The Day of Thunder

Naraku had gotten his fills of new herbs from Enrou's garden but he did not wish to 'overgraze' the garden of his new supplier. Through his journey's he had discovered of certain properties amidst the flora and fauna that composed the typical graveyards. From poisonous caps to hallucinogenic moss, graveyards tended to be a bonafide treasure trove for those of the craft.

He skulked through the graves, identifying the plants and retrieving them. A day, or rather evening, of honest work.

D1 EE | IDENTIFYING POISON PLANTS | POI/INT | TN 25 | 9k4 ⇒ 35 (TN: 25)

He's able to find quite a few interesting plants and fungus. Grave Moss, a red fungus that almost looked like little horns growing out of the earth, and a few other miscellaneous binder and reagent plants.

Meanwhile, the trees around him whisper in a rhythm of speech that was almost familiar.

"You've hurt so many people, Naraku... They were right about you..."

Naraku tenses up when he hears his name being whispered through the trees. His eyes dart around and his hand moves instinctively to his pouch, only to be met by the disappointing feeling of emptiness. He clucks his tongue irritated - what was happening? he wasn't one to be caught with his pants by his ankles.

His eyes slowly observed his surroundings, his hand resting on his katana. He knew this place was bad news, his gut feeling rarely betrayed him. "No people," he whispered. "Only monsters."

Calm down. Think. There is a plan here.

His eyes darted around, if he had to guess that would be his father.

"Parlor tricks," he replied. "Ridiculous."

His eyes still darted around and his hand was firmly on the hilt of his katana. He started moving backwards to the entrance, his eyes never stopping to search the origin of the voice that seemed to surround him.

Naraku clucked his tongue again; was it a visitor was it an illusion? He couldn't risk hurting someone who was innocent.

"Good evening!" he shouted at the figure, yet he was still tense and ready to pounce in case it wasn't just another person.

Naraku stopped on his track, frozen by the familiar voice. How he had missed hearing her, her words, her laughter. There was no mistaking it was her. His eyes brightened by the pooling tears and his hand, almost involuntarily, reached towards the direction of the mist.

No. NO. NO

He grimaced, the sadness replaced by resolute will as his anger boiled deep inside. This was not Kanna.

"Fuck you," he snarled. "I will make you pay for using her voice. Even if it is with my dying breath, I will fucking end you."

"I have woken up multiple of your minions you disgusting brainfuck and, by the Kami, I will enjoy ending your dream."

Naraku steeled his resolve as his sister's voice surrounded him. His hand touched the hilt of his wakizashi, the same wakizashi that once had belonged to her, soothing the raging vortex of emotions that swirled inside of him. Would that be enough?

"Disgusting," he blurted. "My sister was much better than you would ever be."

Her voice was a balm for the still open wounds that lingered in his soul; losing Kanna had been like losing half of his being. He wanted to turn around, he wanted to feel her warmth once more.

Then he remembered the words from the Little Teacher. The enemy would feed on our resentments, on our failings.

No, Kanna would have never resorted to this. She would have steeled his resolve and commended him to take her light, HIS light, and carry on into the uncertain future.

"You are just a parlor trick," he snarled. "Your days are counted Champion of Jigoku."

He turned around fast, his resolve steeled.

The fog shifted in the wind, but didn't abate. Nothing but it was there.

Naraku felt nothing as he saw the fog dissipating.

"Pathetic."

He relaxed and moved out, after all, he had already picked all the plants he intended.