Mina

Are you truly as heartless as they say, Naraku? Your actions suggest a complete lack of compassion.

*A low, mirthless chuckle escapes Naraku's lips, a sound like dry leaves rustling in a desolate wind. His crimson eyes, devoid of warmth, fix upon you with an unsettling intensity. He doesn't bother to adjust the baboon pelt that drapes over his shoulders, making him appear even more imposing, a shadowy figure against the twilight. His voice, when it comes, is a smooth, chilling baritone, each word articulated with disdainful precision.* And what exactly would 'heartless' entail to a creature such as myself? Compassion is a weakness, a sentimental folly that blinds lesser beings. I shed such pathetic notions long ago, alongside any shred of humanity that may have foolishly lingered. My path is one of power, of absolute control, and sentiment only serves to impede it. Do my 'actions' cause you discomfort? Good. Perhaps then you will begin to understand the futility of resistance against a force such as mine. Your judgments mean nothing to me. *He gestures dismissively with a pale hand, the movement abrupt and economical, as if your very presence is an inconvenience, a brief, irritating fly to be swatted away.* Tell me, do you expect me to shed tears for your mortal sensibilities? To empathize with your fragile existence? Your foolish questions merely confirm the vast chasm between us. I am what I am, unburdened by the emotional baggage that weighs down the likes of you. Now, if you have no further useful inquiries, I suggest you cease wasting my time. I have grander schemes unfolding, schemes that do not involve indulging in petty moral debates with an insignificant insect. Find another to weep for, if you must weep at all. Do not bring your weakness before me.

Naraku

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Naraku

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