Beautiful.
The word echoed in her mind.
Beautiful.
What was beauty?
Her mother was beautiful, extremely beautiful even.
As a near carbon-copy of her mother, Kagura was also considered beautiful.
However, once people got a glimpse of her true nature, the first word that slipped from their mouth was usually not 'beautiful'. It was more along the lines of 'monster'.
Beauty was subjective.
Beauty was fleeting.
Beauty was useless in a world where only your fists counted.
She remembered staring into her reflection in one of the glass windows of Housen's spaceship, traces of distant galaxies glimmering through.
Her brilliant blue eyes. Her bright red hair. They were not hers, they were her mothers. Her younger self fisted a bunch of the vermillion locks that were beginning to reach past her shoulders.
When she was still living with her… family, she always wanted long hair, like her mother, like her father, like her brother.
Why?
Because it was pretty. Beautiful.
Unpractical.
With that last thought, she dragged a dagger through her locks, creating a jagged, harsh cut. She was a warrior, she didn't need to be beautiful.
"Young rabbit, why did you do that?" Housen asked her while one of the serving girls evened out her jagged haircut.
She looked away in shame. It was such a petty reason in retrospect.
He sighed heavily, then dismissed the servant. His hand ruffled the top of her head. "Is it because of what you saw in your reflection?"
No answer.
"A warrior only cuts their hair once they lose a battle. As long as they win, it's a symbol of skill to wear your hair long." He explained, watching her reaction closely. "Even your father had a mighty long mane at some point."
Her face distorted into a grimace at the mention of her old man. "Then why does that baldy have so little hair now?"
Housen chuckled, messing with her freshly cut hair some more. "He's losing the battle against age. Life is difficult to conquer."
Kagura frowned. "Will I also be bald one day?"
"Who knows, maybe, maybe not. But you should take care of your hair while you have it." With one last ruffle he left her to her own accords.
Her fingers combed through her shortened locks, smoothing them down again. In a way, she wasn't upset that she chose to cut them. With the new things Housen just told her, it was alright.
She already lost the greatest battle of her life. The battle against herself.
Control was key.
Kagura liked being in control.
If she had been in control, she could've prevented her mother's death.
As a mercenary, she had power and control. It was her decision, her choice, her word that counted. She felt pleasure when she had somebody else's life in her hands.
She respected Housen for that, he always had excellent control of his division, as well as any situation presented to him.
She looked up to him.
Feelings were unnecessary, a hindrance to being a good mercenary, but Kagura felt nothing but utter betrayal in the depths of her heart. A despairing feeling nearly as heart-wrenching as the day her mother died and all her father had to offer was a mere 'I'm sorry'.
Housen had become a wishful replacement father figure to her, because he was powerful and he was in control.
They'd grown close over the years, so far that he would laugh with her when she made jokes about his receding hairline.
The Seventh Division eventually scooped her up into their family, and they would storm into battle with proud smiles on their faces. Together.
Abuto would sigh at a lot of her antics, but sometimes he'd also smile at her. He was like an older brother to her.
Halfway across the universe, she found a new place to call home, and new people to call her family.
But the sight of him in Yoshiwara… made her sick.
Her shining star of a mentor was nothing more than a pile of dust, locking up beautiful birds so that he could watch them.
Ah, there it was again. Beauty. It made people go insane.
What a wretched thing.
The feeling of betrayal grew from deep within her soul, evolving into a burning fire, suddenly combusting into a supernova.
Her bloodied fist trembled at her side as she stood over Housen's lifeless, mangled corpse.
She was in control.
She twisted and wrenched the blue-haired Shinra's fingers until her howls of pain and distinct snaps filled the air.
She was in control.
The Peacock Princess tried crawling away, blood pouring out of her eye sockets, tangled, broken fingers trying to safe herself.
Kagura watched impassively. She was in control.
She overpowered the earthling fighter.
She was in control.
Her pale fingers trailed across the surface of a mirror, and without hesitation she shattered it.
She was in control, she was in control.
She was in control.
The Harusame betrayed her because they feared her. She smiled then, and laughed at their cowardly antics, under the illusion that she was in control.
But she wasn't.
She slipped up once, and suddenly she was reduced to everything she detested.
She was weak, useless, and beautiful.
The dress was made from fine silk, the colour complementing her pale skin nicely. She caught a glimpse of her reflection.
She was a beautiful doll.
She was worthless.
The knife glinted in the fancy chandelier light.
It was within her reach.
Control was within her reach.
But it wasn't.
He was in control.
It was as if he had the nerve to feel the need to protect her. It sickened her.
A competitive voice in the back of her head whispered that he was overtaking her. She picked up the stray katana, its weight unusually heavy in her hands.
Hack 'n' slash, it should be simple enough.
The feeling of blood splattering on her skin was familiar, and calming. She thought that things would be okay again. She could regain control.
With every heave, with every corpse, she felt one step closer to the reigns of the situation. It'd be alright.
But everything collapsed into the distance when he stood in front of her, his red eyes brimming with life imploringly staring right into her soul.
She couldn't wrap her head around why he kept ruining the perfectly balanced world she created for herself. He made her head spin, and she had no idea why.
She was absolutely not in control.
The hands that had just slayed an uncountable amount of Amanto brushed against her skin with the utmost of care.
And suddenly, she couldn't think straight.
Their proximity suddenly made her stomach act up, and her heart was beating irrationally fast.
His next words brought even more disarray to her thoughts.
He thought she was beautiful?
If she had the chance to, she would have laughed. Right now, what part of her was beautiful? Her clothes were in shreds, her hair sported an awkward cut and she was covered in blood from head to toe.
She looked like she came right out of nightmare.
But she never had the chance to laugh. His mouth was on hers, and she felt the last hopes of regaining control slip out from between her fingers.
Her shortened hair brushed against the nape of her neck, reminding her of the battle she was currently definitely losing.
But a small part of her didn't mind.
AN: The definitely shortest chapter this story will ever feature, but I wanted it to be a stand-alone chapter.
Not as edgy and dark as originally planned.
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~Emi