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Her body was unaffected by the warmth or cold. She was merely a husk of a person after all; a doll fueled by only hatred and a sickening love underneath it.
Her memories from life were hazzy, but she could recall most vividly days of warmth, days spent with the man she had fallen so deeply in love with…Kikyo could almost imagine the warmth of the sun on her skin, the smell of flowers, and the sounds of the busy villagers, blissfully unaware what their beloved guardian was up to.
She could remember so vividly the color of Inuyasha's eyes, the way his ears twitched when he got embarrassed, and despite the wall he had tried to put up between them at first, how vulnerable he sometimes allowed himself to be around her and she to him.
She could recall days of bliss, of feeling that maybe a normal woman's happiness wasn't unattainable for her, that maybe she could someday be free to love…
But it was fleeting.
Gentle warmth turned to fire, to rage. She remembered the feeling of claws ripping into her skin; first was the searing heat, then the shock and pain She remembered looking up from the ground, shaking with pain and fear…
…And saw his face, smirking down at her. In his hands, dripping with her blood was the jewel…
She died full of wrath, full of hatred towards him for his betrayal! It was that hatred and those fleeting but all too vivid memories of that sickeningly sweet love she once felt that kept her going even without a soul.
She was only a shell of a person; this was all she had. Even when learning the truth of that day, she wouldn't let go of this feeling. She couldn't get rid of this feeling.
It was all she was now.
She wanted to wrap her arms around Inuyasha and feel his warmth; she wanted to wrap her hands around his throat and feel him take his last breath. She wanted him to reassure her, to whisper words of love to her; she wanted to tell him all of her worst curses, to break his mind with her words. She wanted him to love her as she loved him…even as she dragged him down to Hell with her.
It was vile, this feeling…and she realized with a humorless laugh, there was only one person who truly understood it. How horrid; Onigumo, or rather, Naraku truly got what he had wanted in the end. He dragged her down to his level, tainted her in his same filth.
"What is it?" The half demon demanded, clearly irritated by his "hostage's" sudden amusement. His fingers, running through the ends of her long hair, clenched into a fist and he forcefully pulled on it when she ignored him.
Unbothered , Kikyo showed him a now rare smile, her eyes cold with disgust. "How vile it is," she explained, "that the two of us have so much in common..."
Her loveless eyes stared back into his own, so full of that disgusting mixture of emotions she knew all too well.
"Is this what you wanted, Onigumo?"