Being relentlessly persistent as I was in my pursuit of power--something which I suppose I thought would make me feel complete, something which I suppose I thought would quell the inner aching--I never strayed very far from the village. I made a multitude of attempts to steal the jewel, becoming more subtle with time, but they were always met by the young woman who had almost killed me on that first day. Over time, I began to suspect her spiritual powers allowed her to detect my presence.
Which seemed, quite frankly, unfair.
I began to bide my time, thinking up new strategies to try. Short of burning the damn village and killing the priestess herself, however--things I had no interest whatsoever in doing--I didn't seem to have any effective ideas. In the meantime, out of selfish interest, I began to protect the village and the sacred temple from the advances of demons, using the power of my claws to rip them to shreds before they could reach it. Assuming, of course, they couldn't be turned around by reason, much the way I could.
The priestess seemed to appreciate this, however much she continued to look on me with suspicion, and because of that small of trickle of love I detected it became something of a game. Whenever a new demon made its way from the forest or the mountains, I would make sure to be there first, and I would make sure to stay there long enough for Lady Kikyo to observe me. There was something inside of me, something instinctive; primitive; aggressive; sexual; which made me want her attention, something which made me want to impress her. Perhaps more than that, there was something within me which made me want to show her my strength, and my ability to protect the village, and the temple. And so it was that we began to work together, side by side, out of a mutual interest in protecting the jewel.
Things got more complicated from there.
Whereas I had thought my efforts would have made her more trusting of me--whereas I had hoped, in vain, that they would make her let her guard down--she had only grown more suspicious of me. Perhaps she was overcompensating, afraid of becoming too trusting as our relationship--unusual though it was--became more friendly. She grabbed the Shikon jewel from the temple and began to wear it around her neck, hidden underneath the folds of clothing covering her chest. I noticed this late one evening when I headed out. In the most subtle of ways, I made it to the temple--uninterrupted. Something felt off--my subconscious told me this--but I hadn't paid much attention to this, all of my consciousness devoted to the assessment of my environment as I waited, almost with expectation, for the dark-haired goddess to appear at just the right moment.
At just the right moment.
Here it was--
Nothing.
I stopped at the temple entrance, my ears twitching and my nose wrinkled as I sifted through the air for her scent. But it wasn't here.
She wasn't here.
With a mixture of exultation and a surprising melancholia--the latter emotion surprising me--I made my way inside. The torches had been snuffed out, and long shadows were cast over the room. As I made my way inside, one foot before the other, I felt simultaneously victorious and like a traitor. I felt that I had committed the worst act of betrayal, and my heart felt the heavy weight of lead. I stopped inches from the center of the room, my eyes downcast, my awareness directed inward.
Why was my heart beating so?
Why did I feel so sad?
It was a sadness like the sadness I felt when the trees lost their lively green and when the leaves became orange and red. A sadness like that which I felt when the breeze ceased being warm and light and became chilly and autumnal. A sadness like the sadness I felt every day when I saw the sun setting, its bright yellow turning a deep orange, casting its red on the landscape before disappearing beneath the distant mountains.
It was the sadness of saying goodbye to happiness. The sadness I felt at the knowledge that my possession of this jewel would mean a true severing of my humanity, that part of my being that I had for so long hated for the weakness it had infused me with, and thus a loss of whatever connection--real or imagined--I had developed with Lady Kikyo.
Kikyo...
She was human. I turned my attention toward the temple entrance, almost willing her to appear, although I knew the part of me that desired this was going against my longtime wishes. I even moved closer to the entrance, draping myself against the wall, as though calling for her to come and stop me. To stop me from what I was about to do, which was conflicting with a newfound desire.
How I hated the heart. That was the weakness in me...
She didn't come. When the moment of wishing was over, I stood straight and tried to shake off the emotion. I gave the village one last look before I stepped back, turning to face the room.
That's when I realized, with a start, that the Shikon jewel wasn't there.
