InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The History of Hell ❯ The Void ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

He was silent and still as he watched the hanyou through his daughters mirror. The child was just as still, her blank eyes mirroring her fathers face in their lifeless depths. They could not be more different, polar opposites in looks, in temperament, even gender. They shared only an etheric beauty and the fact they were not human.

Kanna watched Naraku gaze at her mirror, seeking, plotting, dreaming… and knew what he did not. It was futile to fight the hanyou Inuyasha. It was impossible to avoid the vengeance of Naraku's enemies. Inuyasha and his allies or Inuyasha's brother Sesshomaru were going to kill him. She had seen nothing in her mirror but blackness after a certain point in time, and knew that when the time came she would die with her father. She looked inward and missed Naraku's crimson eyes flick to her oddly emotion-filled countenance.

“You look unhappy, Kanna.” He breathed softly. Kanna focused on him once more but did not reply. She thought of her sister Kagura, and her brothers; all dead or reabsorbed by their parent. Naraku… she only called him father because he wore a man's flesh at the moment. Mother was more accurate, as she and her siblings had all been born of his flesh and the gathered Shikon no Kakera's powers.

“Kanna, you should explain your emotion to me. Am I not your father? Only I can assist you in anything that upsets you.” His dark voice crept into her ear and warmed her cold empty chest. The sadness returned, but she was… afraid.

“Naraku-sama, I cannot speak of it; I do not miss Kagura enough to want to join her.” Her voice was a whisper, her implication very clear to Naraku. He stared at his child evenly, wondering what could upset her and be a threat to him, or at least something she thought he would punish her for. Finally he rose silently and walked away, his form shimmering and disappearing before he left the room. Kanna remained kneeling, her arms cradling her mirror, her empty eyes filling with sorrow yet again.

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Kagewaki Hitomi had been a beautiful human, and had in a strange way resembled the human Naraku once had been himself. They were not twins, had not looked alike, but Naraku had not been as comfortable with a new face since he was born in the dank cave named for his old self. Kneeling before the mirror in his chambers, Naraku noted his most comfortable and known face; crimson eyes under blue eyelids set in finely sculpted features crowned with rich brunette hair that fell to his waist waves and curls. Pale, smooth, unmarred skin covered his delicate bone structure, which was a marvelous lie actually. He did have bones, but he was as much a shell as the object of his lust. Kikyou filled her shell with pure souls, and Naraku filled his shell with demons.

His head tilted, his hair sliding over his shoulders. Naraku was a fitting name indeed; he was a walking hell, filled with more horrors than any human could imagine. And Kikyou really was no better. She was a golem, a clay vessel filled with souls that were in their own hell, kept from reincarnation, from rest, from their karma. She refused to see it though, claiming her “sacred quest” was important enough to balance out her heinous crime. If he failed in his goal, he would find Kikyou in hell after he was killed, he was certain of that.

“But this is pointless. I need to understand Kanna not Kikyou. She should not feel, yet she does. Her eyes reflected sadness and she claimed to miss Kagura, though not enough to want to die to see her. Not that she would anyway; Kagura had no soul.” He spoke aloud, but he sounded unconvinced. Sesshomaru was certainly upset with the wind dancer's death, and Naraku had seen the youkai standing off alone with a breeze playing with his long hair, a breeze that touched nothing else.

“How touching…” well yet again he was avoiding the problem at hand. Kanna… he needed the girls powers, and he needed her loyalty. Was she contemplating rebellion? No, he could not imagine it. Of all his children, Kanna was the one he trusted implicitly. She was his firstborn, and despite himself, Naraku felt parental pride and affection for the ghostly nullity-youkai. Maybe that was his problem; he did not like to think of his daughter being in pain. Sadness was pain of sorts; to a being who was never supposed to feel anything but self preservation, it must be very uncomfortable.

There was only one thing for it then. He rose and padded to his private rooms, then slid open a secret panel to enter a small room. The room was dark but for two tall funerary jars, meant to hold the ashes of the dead. Instead, these jars held a thick, viscous fluid from which a dark fog rolled forth, and floating in each was a beating heart. They were loud too, thumping slowly despite being attached to nothing, pushing no blood, being encased in fluid and air. Naraku's red eyes stared at the smaller heart for a long time. He remembered that day, the day Kanna was born, and he had plucked her heart out as a safeguard, a way to ensure her loyalty. If he returned it, would she turn against him? Even if she did revolt, what could she do? He was immune to the mirror; it like Kanna herself was made of his essence, and both father and daughter could command its powers… although he admitted she had more grasp of what it was capable of.

Absently he pressed a hand to his chest; he was a rare being indeed, a male who had suffered through birth. Despite being able to take a female form, Naraku considered himself to be male, but in his dark heart he did wonder what in truth he was. Thoughtfully he picked up the jar containing Kanna's heart and stepped from the room, closing the panel behind him. He sat and peered at the small organ as it rhythmically thumped, pushing Kanna's blood through her body despite not being inside her. His eyes lost focus and he went backwards to the days when Inuyasha had been recently awakened by the girl-woman Kagome, the imperfect little priestess who had carried the Shikon no Tama within her, as the story went.

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Kagome had nearly killed him actually. He had battled and beaten Sango the taija with Inuyasha's stolen sword, but the inu-hanyou himself had arrived with Kagome and the hentai houshi Miroku in tow. Being paranoid, Naraku kept the Shikon no Kakera he had collected on his person; this had almost been his undoing. Kagome's untrained holy powers included sensing the Kakera and she'd aimed her bow at him even though she could not see him, and Inuyasha's nose could not scent him.

Her purification had left him bodiless; his head, neck and right shoulder was all that remained of the body Onigumo had bartered the youkai hoard his soul for. He had been unprepared for the incredible vulnerability this left him in. At that time Hitomi's retainers still survived in the castle, and he had retreated into his human disguise to wait for his hurried plot to gain new flesh to come to fruition.

He smiled wryly in remembrance; the human retainers were very fearful for “Hitomi's” life, and had literally stolen a miko to assist him. His shock upon seeing Kikyou of all the miko's in Japan enter his chambers, when he was so weak, helpless in fact… well the chill of terror had not been welcome. His illusory body had almost unraveled he was so panicked. He knew instantly that she had sensed something wrong, something sinister as well, but as she had at that time known nothing about him, she had simply left rather than tend to an undead, bodiless man.

“We do meet under unusual situations, ne my pretty poppet?” Naraku purred, red eyes narrowing with avarice. He had captured Kikyou moments after he had gained his new and even more powerful body, despite the presence of Inuyasha and Kagome when he was remade. He had snatched his prize and fled to his castle, and proceeded to plan how to use her best. He was certain she would escape his power fairly quickly, but he was shocked when she returned of her own free will and handed him almost one third of the Shikon no Tama, fresh from Kagome's grasp. She had taunted him about using puppets to “see” and fight with rather than fight himself, and he had also to endure her voicing his dark secret aloud; Naraku was not youkai, but hanyou. Yes he was powerful and he had skills and abilities few hanyou possessed, but hanyou he still was. His heart and his brain were still Onigumo's, and until he could be rid of them, he was just filth in the eyes of real youkai... or he would be if her were found out.

The thought of Onigumo's name made Naraku's back itch. Curse the man and his damn scar… Onigumo, who had borne a spider shaped burn on his back; Onigumo, whom Naraku had betrayed; Onigumo who would not let go, or be silent or be still in the prison of his own heart. Onigumo still desired Kikyou, and for that desire, Naraku had been forced to watch her, from afar, like a pathetic voyeur. Oh how she had laughed at him for it, how had she taunted him and posed prettily. She had undressed shamelessly and bathed in his sight, she had slept under the very trees he hovered in, as if she had traded one hanyou protector for another. She did not acknowledge him when he did protect her from the occasional youkai seeking to destroy her or feed upon her powers, and she never lifted a finger to save herself when he was nearby. She had endured his touch, and had allowed him to take her body as he had always wanted to do. She had even cried out in pleasure underneath or above him, but she was never with him and he knew it. She never said his name, but she also did not say his name either, something for which he was secretly, pathetically grateful for. Of course, she knew how he felt anyway. She had played him like a samisen, and he still hated her for it, almost as much as he hated himself for letting himself be toyed with by her.

But even before these days of human misery were visited upon him, Naraku had found himself altering thanks to his cursed lover's gift. He had been obsessed with the Shikon no Tama long before the moment she gave it to him and his adoration of the shattered sphere had grown every day. It shone and sparkled, it was warm when he was cold, and it was cool when he was hot; it was restless under its surface just as he was. He would sit and hold it and allow himself to daydream of the future, of when he would be complete and free from Kikyou and Inuyasha and Kagome. He would be whole, and he would own the world. He would have more powers soon enough…

The first stirrings inside him were startling. He knew the very moment Kanna sparked to life within him. It was probably akin to human conception. How ironic that the Shikon had erupted from a woman's breast and that he was born of a man's lust, when the Shikon sired his children within him.

He had been thinking about the taunt Kikyou tossed at him about his limited sight; he needed kugutsu to see beyond his own barriered castle grounds. If only he had a better, more reliable way to see anything he wished to see… then he felt Kanna within him. He had felt her for the first time just as the moon set, a spark of white that blazed behind his breastbone. She had been cold inside him, curled and complete yet too tiny to be seen yet. Not that he had known then what she was, exactly, or even that she was female. He had only known that there was something inside him and it was alive, that it was dependant upon him but would grow and emerge from him when it was ready. Not wanting to be burdened with a wait, he tried to do like he had before, in the times when he let himself unravel, sorting and breeding the youkai that made him. He had tried to open himself and pull the life forth, but this time, he could not do it. The life fluttered and was distressed, and his body screamed in pain as his fingers delved inside. He had jerked back and stared into space, feeling very strange.

He had tried twice to remove it before he gave up and pulled the jewel from his haori. It was warm that night, bright and sparkling pink and green. He sat back and frowned, trying to understand what was going on. He had on occasion ejected youkai that apparently had died or ceased to be useful to him, outside of his seclusion times. This was similar yet different; there was a life inside him this time, not a dead youkai. He rested his hand over the place where the white flash had alerted him of the “conception” and chuckled.

“I wonder what you are and why you are in there…” As soon as he spoke to the creature it began to grow. His back arched and he almost screamed; pain had been almost a lost sensation until this moment. He gripped the Shikon in his left hand and grasped his chest with his right, wincing and panting; the thing was expanding wildly inside his chest, crushing whatever passed for organs within him and pressing against his ribs, threatening to snap them under the pressure. He was going to split open, he could not bear this pain and dizziness much longer. He allowed himself to whimper, even though he could barely breathe. Lurching forward he had crawled to the nearby writing table, where he knew a dagger was to be found. By now his vision was pulsing red in time with the heartbeat of the creature inside him, and his chest was misshapen because of it. He found the dagger by main luck and chuckled breathlessly.

“I don't care if you are done or not, you are coming out now,” he gasped and slit his own belly like a fish. Blood, shouki and a small white body rushed out of his chest and stomach, the relief from the pressure inside was so great he hardly felt the cut at all. He collapsed next to the small body weakly and tied to focus on it, but he was tired and weak now. He wanted to rest, to sleep…

“No, I can't trust it yet… I need power… Can't lay here vulnerably…” he hissed, and the Shikon no Tama, clutched in his left hand, obeyed. Energy surged through him, and his gaping chest began to close and mend itself. His blurred eyes cleared, allowing him a clear view of…

A little girl… Her long thick hair was stained red-black by blood and shouki, and was plastered to her face and shoulders. She was tiny, barely two feet long, a miniature girl-child. He stared in amazement; why had he produced this tiny creature? Slowly he sat up and heard a soft clatter; an ornate silver mirror had emerged with the child. Now he was truly confused yet he refused to worry about it. A strange almost maternal urge overtook him, and he scooped the child up, then stood and headed for the bath. She was cold but alive, her rosebud lips having the faintest hint of pink to them.

He sat and washed her carefully, noting that she was perfect, with all toes and fingers in place. However she was missing something very important; she has no scent. She was a nullity then, a youkai with no scent or youki signature. She would walk without a sound; when she was ready to walk that is. Right now she was so tiny that she seemed more like a doll than a child. The mirror was almost bigger than she was. When he had her cleaned thoroughly, he was not surprised to discover her hair was white as snow, and it was perfectly trimmed, straight along her shoulders. He wrapped her in a soft drying cloth then decided to bathe himself, one eye on the girl as she slept. He was fully recovered by that time, and he placed the Shikon close to the child, but closer to his grasp so he could snatch it up quickly. She might need its energy, and he was certain that the jewel had something to do with her creation.

As he soaked the last of the caked shouki off and eased the last of the mind-numbing pain he had experienced away, he watched the child with fascination. She had begun to grow, expanding at a similar rate to what she had achieved inside his body, and the Shikon was what was fueling her growth. Resting his chin on his hands he watched the girl attain what became her full growth in less than ten minutes. The Shikon glowed brightly every moment of her expansion, and when she was finished it faded, as if exhausted by its efforts.

“I sympathize, my pet.” Naraku crooned as he scooped the jewel up, rising from the water and drying himself. He kept his eye on the child as he formed the baboon pelt around him, then scooped her up once more and went back to his rooms. A few vagrant youkai were lapping at the puddle of bloody shouki on the floor and he pulled them into himself along with the lost fluid, before he sat with the child in his lap.

“What am I to do with you? Humans have taught me that being related means nothing regarding loyalty. How can I command your devotion and still trust you will remain devoted?” he pondered. Then it came to him; some madoushi claimed they could remove their hearts and thus protect their lives. They kept their hearts with those of slaves they captured; if the hearts were found, the madoushi's heart was indistinguishable from the captive hearts around it and destroying the hearts killed the slaves as well as the Madoushi, a fine safeguard against sentimental humans. He cautiously placed the Shikon in her hand and using the same dagger that birthed her, he cut her tender chest open and pulled her heart out. He placed the heart in the funerary jar, along with some of her blood and his own, and then hid it to be safe. His efforts near exhausted him though, and he was trembling when he sat and pulled her into his arms again. He retrieved the Shikon and sighed; what a long strange day it had been…

“Father.” She whispered suddenly, and he smiled in curious delight.

“I am here.” He said, his voice soft.

“Where is my mirror, Father?” her large black eyes opened and peered up at him. They were utterly blank and empty for a moment then slowly, a hint of warmth formed in them, before it faded again, leaving her with a dolls flat black eyes. Her small hand rose and touched his face, resting on his cheek. “You are tired, Naraku-sama. Birthing me must have been hard.” He nodded.

“Hai it was. I was not expecting you.” He admitted. She did not nod, did not reply. She simply waited with her small cool fingers on his face. He leaned back against the wall tiredly and looked at the mirror, still bloody and lying on the floor. The girl saw it too, and crawled from his lap to get it. She padded to the bath, still in her drying cloth, and then returned with the cleaned mirror in her arms, her left under it, the right cradling the top. She knelt and looked at Naraku's chin, her face remote.

“My name is Kanna, Naraku-sama. What would you see in my mirror?”

Naraku's face slowly spread into an evil smile as he eyed his firstborn, then looked lovingly at the softly shining Shikon no Tama. He had needed to see, and the Shikon have given him sight without limit.

“Domo Arigato for this wondrous gift, my pet…” He purred and slid the jewel away into his haori before focusing on the mirror's swirling face as it prepared to show him his glowing future…

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