InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Kimono ❯ Musing ( Chapter 1 )

Naraku stared out his palace window over the greenery of Japan, seemingly melting into the darkness around him. If one chanced to look up from below, they would have seen impenetrable velvet shadows beyond. Yet, as soon as they would turn their back, two crimson sparks would glow in the gloom when Naraku chose to open his eyes again. He smelled the delicious damp evening air. There was no moon, but the silver stars were still too bright for him. The dark empty pools of pure night between them were what interested him.

Oh, stars. Precious little things. Little jewels suspended in the air that even Inuyasha couldn’t gather. They guided and fascinated people. Humans anyway. Lovers claimed they saw stars when they kissed. Utterly ridiculous. On the other hand, he knew nothing of love anyway. Only lust.

What was real love exactly? A chemical reaction? An emotional connection that tugs at the heart? Naraku did wonder about this. He knew humans literally died for it. They craved it for completion. What was real love exactly? A chemical reaction? An emotional connection that tugs at your heart? Naraku did wonder about this. He knew humans literally died for it. They craved it for completion. But really, how much of it was a simple hormonal response? The handsome gentleman married a beautiful maiden while the oojisama married a female of royal blood. Were these foundations really built on this phenomenon of romance?

Could a woman ever love him? Considering they were stupid enough to try. Let’s see. The infamous Kikyo hated Naraku with all her soul. Onigumo’s fierce desire would have to go unfulfilled. No, he needed someone more…tangible. Let’s see. The girl propelled centuries from the future, Kagome, clearly loved the mongrel, though he himself never returned her affections. An unrequited, one-sided romance it seemed. Kagome was the reincarnation of Kikyo herself. Except, Kagome behaved like the Kikyo from before. She bore no resemblance to the icy, bitter, wandering spirit Kikyo had become. Kagome was kind, gentle, and innocent. She laughed openly under the shady trees, the sun glinting off her dark, shiny locks. Her optimistic, sparkling brown eyes always fixed upon the sky. She acted akin to a kodama; connected to nature itself. As amusing as it would be to corrupt her virtuousness, Naraku decided to set his sights elsewhere.

What about Sango? Sango, the warrior that longed for Miroku, the monk. This relationship prospect too went unacknowledged. Her resentment was such a charming quality. She could easily be lured to darker forces if given the chance whilst being driven by her own despair. And, she was admittedly beautiful. Her swirling tresses would flow like a black waterfall around her delicate swan neck once released from its restrictive ponytail. It longed to feel the caresses of a man’s fingers. Miroku’s possibly. All Sango needed was love. All females wanted was love.

So, what accounted for this strange emotion? Yearning? Impossible hopes? Unfulfilled wishes? What good was it? Inuyasha couldn’t bear to let himself get too close to Kagome, and Miroku, the flirtatious monk had apparently never heard of the term. What fools.

Naraku smirked, his pointed teeth flashing in the shadows; brighter than any star could be. He wouldn’t have rejected them. No. He would have invited them into his arms, leading them to his chambers where they would get to know each other better. In the morning, any woman would agree that he was the best they ever had. That was the essence of love, wasn’t it? Mating? Sensuality? Lust and love. Was there any apparent difference between the two? After yearning for the girl and after consummating this fervorwhat else was there left to do? The fires were burned out, and one was left with cold ashes. Is that why Inuyasha and Miroku did not express their feelings? The chase was more rewarding than the eventual capture?

Naraku mused about this while heavy storm clouds drifted over the heavens and blotted out the stars. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Love. There had to be more to it than nights of frenzied passion. Yet, once these acts of pleasure had been performed, what remained? At dawn, the lady would stir, rub the sleep out of her eyes, and gaze questioningly at her lover from over the top of the embroidered silk bed sheet. What could he say? What should he say? What more did the woman implore?

Still, Naraku sensed there was more to it than simple sexual activity. If only someone was daring or foolish enough to show him what it is to love. But then he’d never understand it anyway.