In the pitch-black night, Naraku stood silently outside the door, spying on the miko he had imprisoned there. Kikyo's beautiful face remained as still as a deep well. Nothing Naraku did could leave the slightest mark on her face or her heart. Just as he was about to leave in silence, the miko suddenly raised her head, as though she sensed him. Across a thin paper door lay fifty years of silent battle and inextricable entanglement. Naraku could almost imagine the contempt in those clear, dark eyes that always regarded him with indifference. In the end, he did not slide the door open and enter. Instead, he hurried away as though defeated, as though some vicious beast were chasing him. In truth, the miko had not moved at all. What drove him away was nothing more than his own heart.
"Kikyo..." Her name escaped Naraku's dark lips in a barely audible whisper. His pale fingers pressed tightly over his chest, but that filthy Onigumo's heart would not release him. It kept beating, beating.
Sooner or later, I will cast this heart away completely.
I, Naraku, will never be controlled by a human heart.
The handsome monster, his thick, curly hair like seaweed, thought this without expression. The hem of his robe drifted with his steps like heavy storm clouds, laden with oppression and resentment.
"Kagura!" Leaving the inner room where the miko was confined, Naraku called his creation's name with a grim face.
"Yes." Kagura stepped silently out from behind a corridor pillar and bowed submissively before him.
"Among the humans, there appears to be a Black Miko named Tsubaki who excels at the Curse-Killing Technique. Bring her here."
"Do you intend to use her for something?" Kagura straightened and asked cautiously.
"That is none of your concern. Bring the