InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Kimono ❯ Preparations ( Chapter 4 )
Ushering Mizoshi into the sliding screen doors of the darkened castle, he led her by the elbow in the shadowy interior. Once inside, Mizoshi gasped in fright when she saw a body slumped against the wall. White bleached bones peeked out of a sweeping cobalt and emerald kimono. A tiny hat was still on the former human being’s skull.
“Don’t worry. He died painlessly,” Naraku assured her.
This was not the point.
“Kagura!” Naraku’s voice boomed throughout the connecting rooms. “I require your assistance!”
Smoothly, a woman glided into the view with a sulking expression on her face. Oh. Was this his wife? A mistress? A daughter? All I could see that she was plainly a demon. She was young I could see, around my own age. Also, she was pretty, yet her aggressive demeanor lessened the effect. The woman’s eyes were a startling red like her master’s with a small scarlet painted mouth to match. She wore a lavender kimono with strips of burgundy crossing through the silk fabric. A gold sash was expertly tied around her waist in a complicated bow. Her ebony hair was tied up in formal bun except for her wispy bangs that were allowed to brush the corners of her eyebrows. The style was held in place by twin feathers threaded through her shining tendrils. Turquoise earrings dangled in her ears. And in her hand, she carried a pale pink fan. She was dressed as finely as any noblewoman.
“Yes, Naraku?” There was a loathing in her voice Mizoshi couldn’t name.
“Take our guest to be bathed and dressed in a desirable shade, and bring her to my table. Know this, if any harm comes to her, your fate will become her own. I alone shall decide her immediate destiny, Kagura.”
Kagura bowed her head. “It will be done.” Her full lips arranged themselves into a soft, respectful smile; a smile that turned into a scowl as soon as he turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction. Obviously, the woman cared not for Naraku.
“Come along, girl,” Kagura growled, seizing her arm. “You have more trouble than if your face is dirty or which kimono to wear, I can promise that.”
Following the hot-tempered young woman down the bending corridors, Mizoshi encountered more skeletons. She decided not to even ask about them. Some things were best left unknown. If only that could’ve been true for her dear family…
Kagura led her to a bathing room. The area was so alive with gloom; Mizoshi was hesitant about entering; yet Kagura pulled her along as if she were a stubborn horse. Even the rice paper walls could hardly be glimpsed in the inkiness. The woman in lavender led her to a wooden bathtub that was surprisingly already filled with steaming water.
“Strip,” she ordered simply.
Mizoshi gazed down into the tub. The water was still and black. She could not see the bottom.
“Remove your clothing,” Kagura repeated again slowly as if Mizoshi were a dull wit. “Do not be embarrassed. Your curves do not tempt me.”
Reddening a bit from embarrassment all the same with the added worry of finding poisonous snakes curled at the bottom of the bathing tub, Mizoshi untied her rude, mud-splattered kimono and let it fall on the mat below. She scuttled into the tub quickly to situate herself. She watched as Kagura seized up a washcloth and a small ceramic bowl.
“Will I not wash myself?” she asked, silently admitting the water’s temperature was perfect. It began to relax her in spite of everything.
“Naraku insisted I do it,” Kagura hissed. “Don’t worry, little one. I’m the least of your problems. We are both bound here now.”
“Are you Naraku’s wife?” The question couldn’t be staunched.
“Does it really matter to you?” the woman in lavender inquired nastily. “I am his prisoner. That’s all. You are too.” Her voice was more abrasive than acid.
“What of your master? What does he intend to do with me?”
“Ask him yourself…what is your name, human?”
“Mizoshi, but I’m not a full human. My father was a half demon, and that is why I was driven from my village. Naraku found me.”
“Your bad luck then. As for your heritage, I’d say the same. Since your father was only half, you only have a quarter of demon blood in your veins. Worse than most hanyou, I’d imagine.”
Marveling at Kagura’s bluntness that masked a hidden perpetual rage, Mizoshi let her move the bathing cloth across her back. A scent she couldn’t identify tinged the air, emanating from the mysterious ceramic bowl. The soapy green substance was smeared on her skin, chilling it at first before surrendering to the heat of the bath. It appeared to have the consistency of seaweed. Tears brimmed her eyes when she was reminded of her village that had bordered the seashore.
Continuing the conversation, Mizoshi dared to ask another question. “Does anyone else live here with you?”
“My sister, Kanna. Of course, I’m not counting the vast demon hoards at Naraku’s disposal.”
This shocked her. “Demons?”
“Oh yes. Naraku is one of the greatest powers in the land. Unfortunately. Here, dip your head under the water.”
Reluctantly, Mizoshi did so. When she surfaced, Kagura began washing her hair vigorously with her perfectly shaped cuticles. She chose to remain silent until her hair was rinsed. “Naraku is powerful?”
Kagura snorted. “You know so little, Mizoshi. Yes, he is. Furthermore, he is by far the cruelest man that ever lived. He is pure evil, and I hate sharing my life with him.”
Again, she was so brutally honest. Standing currently, she presented Mizoshi with a towel. “Get out and dry yourself. Treasure now what precious distance you have away from him.
Without comment, Mizoshi stepped out of the wooden tub whereupon Kagura literally threw the brown towel at her. It was big enough to wrap around her body twice. Impatiently, her “bathing attendant” led her to another chamber with a high bench in the center.
“Sit,” Kagura demanded, treating her like some breed of dog. Half-heartedly, Mizoshi obeyed. While her hair dried, the woman in lavender searched in some drawers and cabinets; gathering an item or two here and there. Wonderingly, Mizoshi touched her skin, awed by how soft it was. She was sure she was clean, and that an entire layer had been sloughed in the process. A layer of herself.
Kagura went on to her style her slightly damp hair. Mizoshi knew she would not asked for her opinion. The demoness swept her fine-stranded mane back and began shaping. The result was a low knot at the base of her neck. Braids connected to the sides of her temples. Her bangs had disappeared into the coif itself.
Lightly, she laid something across Mizoshi’s lap. “Try that on. It should fit. You can’t meet your new master looking like an urchin.”
Wordlessly, Mizoshi got up and shed her towel while Kagura happened to have her back turned and tied the crimson kimono around her waist. Red. Could it be any other hue?
Her attendant regarded the disdainful expression on her face. “You don’t like it?” Kagura huffed.
“Red is not my favorite. That’s all,” Mizoshi whispered. She was reminded of blood. And fire. And death. And destruction. She had abhorred the color ever since she witnessed a man striking her mother and calling her a “demon’s whore.” A stream of blood had exited the poor woman’s lips. Yet, this happened many years before. But the memory was still emblazoned in her brain.
“Well, you’ll wear it. Naraku dictated that I was to dress you in a desirable shade, and in his mind, red is a desirable shade. ‘It intensifies a woman’s beauty,’ or so he says. From now on, it shall be your duty to keep him happy.”
Digesting this in silence, Mizoshi held her breath while Kagura slid something into the coils of her hair. The finishing touch. “There. Have a look at yourself.” She thrust a mirror into Mizoshi’s hand. Curiously, she gazed into the glass. She appeared as proper and sophisticated as any in the Emperor’s court. Her beauty certainly was intensified, more so than she would have chosen. She could barely make out this “urchin” she was previously. The unaccustomed crimson blossom of silk riding her tresses proved this.
“Would you like your lips painted?”
She swallowed. “No thank you.”
“No? Oh, well. I suppose it doesn’t matter. The gloss would be smeared away in any case.”
Not wanting to figure out the implications why the cosmetic might be smeared from her lips, Mizoshi got up from the bench and peeked downwards so she could take in her new clothes. She noticed there was a deep border of sable surrounding the hem of the shimmering red garment and that the neckline was lower than she would prefer.
Immediately, Kagura was pulling at her arm again. “Come. Breakfast will be served soon, and you will be taking it with Naraku.” Underneath the selected crimson kimono she felt quite uncomfortable wearing, Mizoshi prayed Kagura did not detect her legs trembling. Why did it seem as if she were a present that had been wrapped according to Naraku’s tastes? Would he dare open it?