by Momiji Hime

Dull, muted footsteps fell slow and measured on the floor, accompanied by a slamming door.

His long black jacket was the first item shed; he wiggled his arms free, then tossed it to the floor. The man shrugged out of his fitted black shirt, and it dropped to the floor behind him. He paid his fallen garments no heed as he sank to the comfortable bed that seemed to beckon to him.

It was a fairly large enough bed, big enough to hold Kusanagi's large form, but hardly big enough for him and another, and Murakumo wondered absently if Kusanagi planned on bringing Momiji here to use it any time soon.

His teeth clenched behind closed lips. The very thought turned his stomach. He planned to act before something to that extent occurred. The scene he had witnessed this evening cinched it for him. Peeking into Momiji's bedroom window, and finding only one occupant curled up in that bed had driven him to do a more thorough search. Lo and behold, he'd found the object of his recent obsession curled up in the arms of that unworthy bastard, fast asleep. Kusanagi had held her in a tight embrace, nestling her against his wide expanse of a chest, both their breathing slow and even. He hadn't been able to emotionally handle the view, the sight of Kusanagi's dark, ugly face partially buried in Momiji's thick swath of chestnut hair, his hard arms gripping her body. He'd almost become sick. Although his insides had rioted against the sight before him, he'd remained at the bedroom window for quite some time, just staring in combined outrage and shock before retreating for the night.

His plan had to be executed, and soon. But how? In theory, the idea seemed flawless. In reality, it sucked, big time. He knew what he wanted to do, what he had to do, but he was at another being's mercy. It was both bad and good, simultaneously. Bad, because he detested taking orders and putting someone else’s interests before his own. Good, because in order to obtain what he wanted and needed most, he'd have to get assistance from some sort of outside power.

The situation threatened to make one's head ache. It didn't make total sense to him either, but it would, all in good time.

He rose restlessly to his feet, and paced the perimeter of the apartment, his footsteps quiet. However, the person that was seemingly in charge of the whole situation hadn't spoken to him since he'd been sent back to Tokyo. Murakumo had been left cold and sick in the dirty city streets, with only the standard, "Don't call me, I'll call you" bit. But even that hadn't been so horrible. Though he had been cold, sick, defenseless, and temporarily humbled, it at least meant that act one of the plan had been executed. He'd known most of the terms when he had been sent back. Or so he had thought.

It seemed that this.. infuriating woman was planning on playing with him during this whole thing. He hadn't anticipated a free ride, or a flawless plan, but he hadn't planned on so many complications. He had a lot of obstacles to overcome, and in the end, there would be payback.. to her.

He sank back onto his temporary bed with a sigh, leaning back against the pillows. His hands folded themselves upon his bare, muscular chest. Indeed. She was screwing with him first. Truthfully, Murakumo wasn't surpassed. Reviving the long dead didn't happen unless one promised a favor, or something kind of reward. That would simply be impolite. Murakumo was a gentleman.

But how many games would he have to play? The lies had been the first, the reassurance that Momiji would be easy to influence, to manipulate. Gods, what a crock. He'd arrived, expecting the same girl that he had left; immature, airheaded, and lost.

Instead, he had found a young woman, who although still unsure of herself, had a major support group of people to draw on, not to mention a demon of a man as a bodyguard. The TAC, and maybe even Kusanagi, would be easy to dispose of, had he his normal powers.

He clenched his fists suddenly, seized but another bout of frustration. Damn her. The splitting of his very self, and the giving of it to someone who wouldn't know in the least what to do with his powers. His mitamas made him who he was, gave him his very power. Without all of them, or just one of them, he was almost useless. He was virtually incapable of doing anything he had once done with ease.

His hands unclenched, and returned to their resting position on his chest. His breathing slowed, and his eyes closed.

He knew how this had all come to pass. When he'd agreed to this little game. He'd wanted this, with all the longing one could posses. And he'd see it through, until he got what he wanted. He wouldn't lose.

His eyelids fluttered briefly as he allowed himself to recall, to remember...

"Your powers are divided now, Murakumo. Into your mitamas."

Murakumo was nonplused at the prospect of having his powers and abilities tampered with. His words were spoken calmly and carefully although his inner thoughts betrayed his tone. "Am I still able to use them all?"

"It's a little more complicated than that, I'm afraid." A slight rustling sound accompanied her descent to his side. She deposited herself before to him, folding her legs underneath herself, and arranging the thin material of her gown around herself. "You need to disrobe for this, at least your chest. Let me show you something."

Her thin, busy fingers tugged at his wrap, working open the tie, and easing apart the fabric. Murakumo's arms hung uselessly at his sides, as he watched her undress his upper half. Any healthy man with a certain appendage between his legs and a healthy appreciation for women would have thought this sensual, but his blood continued to run cold, and he sat quietly, letting her do as she would.

"This one," she said lazily, outlining one of his mitamas on the left hand side of his chest, "houses your self healing ability. This isn't your most powerful ability, but it's still there."

She moved to the right, lightly touching the one farthest to the right. "This one is the weakest of your powers. It houses the power to read other's minds, and a bit of empathy."

Murakumo looked down at her hand. "I've never been able to read minds, or anything of the sort."

"Exactly.. like I said, it's the weakest of your powers. You have the potential, but this is one of your least used abilities. This mitama, in the middle of your chest, below this other one, holds your Energy."

"Energy?"

"Yes. The power to release energy. This is one of the strongest of your abilities. You know that already, though... this is one power you used frequently when you were among the living. Your bursts of energy come from it. Most of your combat abilities don't stem from your strength."

She laced her fingers through the fingers of his left hand. "This is the mitama where your strength comes from. Again, one of your weaker spots. You don't use your strength very often. But you don't really need it, because of this one.." She then, switched his left hand for his right. "Your speed. Pretty self explanatory. Speed was usually on your side, you'll remember."

She pointed to his legs. "No, no need to take off your pants. The mitama on your left knee is for coordination, which you're also adept at, and the right is your flying ability, which you also used quite often."

Murakumo cleared his throat. "And this other one on my chest? What's that one for?"

"Oh, unimportant. It doesn't house any type of ability, mainly just there for decoration. That's the one that'll have to go when you get sent back."

"It has to go?"

"Well, yes. It's really of no use to you anyway. I can send you back to Japan, but there's just one hitch.."

"Which is..?"

"If I sent you back like this, you'd probably just die."

Murakumo blinked as he drew the ends of his wrap together. "Which would put quite a damper on an otherwise perfect plan, wouldn't it?"

She nodded, her wispy hair falling into her eyes. "Sad, isn't it?"

A long silence ensued.

"But.. that's where this extra mitama comes in, right?"

"Right you are, little one." She beamed, looking pleased at him stumbling upon the solution himself. He was such a good boy.

Murakumo inwardly frowned. He was sure she'd planned this whole conversation out hours ago. She didn't have oodles of great power for nothing. But as long as jerking him around made her happy, he'd let her continue, so long as he got what he wanted.

She hopped to her feet, and swept around him, before stopping directly in front him, batting a stray lock of hair from her face. "What I'm going to do is bond you."

"Clarify, please."

"With pleasure." She flopped down in front of him, and said brightly, "Like I said, sending you back will just kill you, so I've got to get you bonded to someone living, preferably young and healthy, and easily influenced, so that you'll have a fighting chance while you regain your strength."

"How long will that take?"

"Who knows? Don't worry about it. Your bond is your mitama, this little one here on top. Sending you back will be quite traumatic-for both you and your bonded-at first. You'll be very weak, but your self-healing will kick in, and hopefully it won't leave you traumatized for long. For now, all I want you to is concentrate on recuperating after you arrive. Everything else will begin to fall into place later."

"Where am I supposed to stay?"

She frowned. "Oh, right, right. Once I send you back, I should give you a food allowance and book you four star reservations at the Tokyo Hilton, too, right? You're being awful picky. I had no idea you were so high maintenance."

Upsetting her would do no good. But he had to admit, sarcasm became her. "I'm not asking for the world, but what will I do once I get there? How will I live, especially if I'm supposed to be weak once I'm sent? Where will I stay?" This wouldn’t have been a problem before, but if he couldn't fend for himself, he'd be at everyone's mercy. It was almost as bad as being human.

"That's not my problem," She snapped hotly, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I've done everything. I split up your powers, I've found someone to bond you to, and I'm in the process of sending you back. I'm giving you all the necessary resources and energy when you need them, as much as you need, and you have the nerve to demand more of me? Figure it out yourself! I've done my part."

Oh god. Murakumo swallowed his immense pride, his slitted eyes peering into smoky gray from his kneeling position on the clean floor. "I apologize. Please."

She actually chuckled, her face abruptly changing as she tossed a handful of thick heavy hair over her shoulder. He voice was once again light, and held the tone of teasing. "I do believe you're begging me. Please, do go on."

"Yes," He ground out. "I'm begging you. Anything you ask, it's yours."

She raised her eyebrows, appearing to actually be pondering the possibilities. "I suppose.. but of course, I never once doubted payback. We'll work that out later. Just remember. You owe me, big time, little one."

He balked at being called 'little one'. How insulting. "I prefer my real na-"

"I'm sure you do." The woman presented him with another brilliant smile. "But beggars can't be choosers, and you're in no position to tell me what to call you, or anything else, for that matter." A long, skinny finger caught his chin, tilting his head upward. She purred her next sentence, her thumb idly stroking his icy skin. "Are you, now?"

He shook his head, releasing his chin from her grasp, inwardly disgusted with himself as well as this willowy being before him, but desperate to please. "No."

"Good, as long as we're clear."

That stupid, stupid woman. The memory ate at him, and his anger built again. Since he'd been back, since he'd healed, he had been unable to use any of his powers as efficiently as he once had. She'd been toying with him, playing around. The very moment that top mitama had disappeared, he'd felt different.. almost foreign. His powers were still there, but they lay almost.. dormant.

He couldn't tap into any of them, except when he saw Momiji.

That night when he had visited her, when she had been posed in sleep, oblivious to his presence, he'd felt more alive than he had in almost two years. Something deep inside him had kicked in, and he'd been more sensitive. He could see the vague scattering of her dreams when he had first touched her, visions of people he'd never seen before, places he'd never been. It had been very brief; it had almost immediately blacked out, but he'd felt a rush, knowing his powers weren't totally depleted and infinitely far from his grasp.

Gah.. his master. She'd made his new life hell. She had seemingly done more harm that good. He saw her face in his mind; those wide, smoky gray eyes, that thick swath of rich black hair that bathed her shoulders in darkness. He remembered how she would dance around him, her long, thick gown swishing around him as she moved. Her light, flirty little laugh. Her teasing voice. Her overall beauty.

Only one thought graced his mind as he drifted into sleep.

God, he hated her.

***

Momiji had always thought that good morning kisses would be a little less than pleasant. The idea of smooching in the wee hours of the morning, both voices hoarse, scratchy, and husky, irritable temperaments, and minds still muddled hadn't particularly appealed to her.

Kusanagi towered above her, one arm pressed to the bed, and the other holding her up, keeping her elevated as her arms made their way around his shoulders.

As far as good morning kisses went, Momiji couldn't categorize it as anything but beautiful. She wasn't accustomed to his affection, but she'd learn to deal with it, and quickly. Finally, an easy task.

"Bad dreams?" he asked quietly, and instead of waiting for an answer, resumed his assault on her lips.

"mmph.. no..just good ones," she managed to mumble against his mouth, before giving up in order to continue greeting him good morning.

"Well, well.. good morning to both of you. And a splendid morning it is, I see."

*bang*

Kusanagi's arm went slack, and Momiji went down, slamming the back of her head against the wooden headboard with a painful crash.

"Oh god.. oww.."

Sakura leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "Did I interrupt?"

Momiji propped herself up, waiting for the throbbing pain to fade. "I don't see how it matters now."

"Have you ever heard of knocking?" Kusanagi frowned murderously, pushing himself to a sitting position.

Sakura blinked innocently. "Pardon me. I just spent the last half hour pleading your case to Kunikida-san. He was rather outraged at the idea of you two sharing a bed, but I successfully convinced him that it was important for Momiji's well being. No no, don't bother thanking me."

Momiji scowled. "Don't worry. I wasn't going to."

Sakura flounced out, slamming the door behind her.

Kusanagi couldn't be too irritated with her. After all, if it hadn't been for her, Momiji would still be stumbling around blindly, refusing to rest. Sakura had done her part, and well. Aside from interrupting something that could have fast went out of hand, she'd been a big help.

He turned to Momiji, who was still rubbing the back of her head. "You two really do act like sisters, you know."

Momiji glared at him irritably, massaging the painful spot, and said something completely out of her own character, something that made her think of Sakura. "Oh, bite me."

A maddening grin lit up his lips as he leaned over for another kiss.

"mmph.. ouch!"

Momiji held him tightly, and made a mental note to watch what she said in the future, in case Kusanagi decided to start taking everything she said literally. She briefly wondered where his new-found boldness had come from, but more pressing tasks caused her mind to wander elsewhere.

***

It was still raining, but instead of the torrent of water and wind that had graced them before, it was more of a gentle pattering, just reminding everyone that autumn wasn't yet complete.

It was rather pretty, Momiji had to admit to herself. The trees and grass held a silvery shimmer, and the drumming sound of the rain on the roof eased her nerves. Her eyes slid halfway shut, and she lazily brooded, as the image of the tree branches and bushes became smaller and smaller around the edges. Burrowing deeper into her window seat, she wrapped a blanket around her legs, settling herself more comfortably.

It had been a peaceful day thus far, quiet and uneventful, thankfully. Because of the rain and clouds, the sky had dramatically darkened, though the day was still early. She grasped her forearms, rubbing them to create more warmth.

This had to be the first normal day she'd had in quite a while. Sakura had went home for the afternoon, but as for what she was up to, it was a mystery. She was expected back at any time, and Momiji was enjoying having her room all to herself for just a little while. Kusanagi was off doing whatever Kusanagi did during the day normally, unable to locate for hours. Momiji supposed he was tired of being cooped up, and had went outside, or back to his apartment. He'd been pushed far enough as it was, and it was only natural that he seek some privacy. Kunikida had spent most of the day in the nursery-to-be at the end of the hall, armed with two paint rollers, several small paint brushes, and two cans of paint, one in a soft powder blue, and the other a muted shade of green. He had forbidden Ryoko entrance into the room while the paint was still fresh; he demanded that she rest, and she had remained true to her word, lolling around in her bedroom all day, with the exception of cooking.

Sugishita had been in and out of the house periodically that day, and Matsudaira had stopped by to conduct a routine checkup. Koume and Yaegashi were, of course, at his mother's house, enduring her fussing and cooing.

Momiji leaned back. It was almost perfect. She was surrounded by people coming and going, and constant visitations. She hadn't felt this safe for quite some time either. It was welcome.

"I'm baaaaack!"

"Great..." So much for having her own room back. Momiji slowly unfolded herself and stood, collecting the blanket hat had pooled at her ankles and folding it neatly.

Sakura dropped her bulging backpack onto the bed, and beckoned to her roommate. "Come here a sec, will you?"

Momiji actually complied, depositing herself onto the bed and dragging the pack to her. She cradled the bag on her lap, testing it's weight. "You're just sleeping here.. what did you pack?" Shoving the bag off her legs and onto the bed, she began to fumble with the zipper.

"Nope," Sakura chirped, sweeping her hair into a bun. She flopped down onto the bed and with one swift tug, made an attempt to un-snag the zipper.

"What are these?" Momiji stared at the countless books Sakura dumped out of her bag and deposited messily on the flowered blankets. Most of them were hardback, and looked older than dirt. Many of them still carried traces of dust and dirt, indicating they didn't often get checked out from their national library.

Sakura flopped down in bed next to Momiji, and crossed her legs. "Books."

"I know that. You know what I mean."

"Most of them are books on incantations. The rest are on wards." She watched as Momiji hefted on the larger books onto her lap, letting out a startled noise at the sheer weight. "If you think it's heavy, imagine how I managed to get them home on my bike. I had to stop twice to pick them up, since my bag kept falling over. Those things weigh a ton."

"What are they for?" Momiji searched the dusty, pale green cover for some sort of title, and found nothing. She managed to heft it over, searching the back.

Sakura slid closer to Momiji, and pulled the book partially out of the girl's lap, so that they could both peruse the huge volume more comfortably. "Well.. I was laying in bed thinking last night, because I couldn't sleep. I figure that the only way we can protect you is to do some sort of incantation, and put up a few wards. Besides asking for the TAC's help, this is the only thing that came to mind."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. Although you know what my first choice is.."

"You know why I can't, Sakura."

"Not exactly. You're scared, but with their help, well.. you could probably rest a hell of a lot easier.. There's nothing that the two of us could possibly do that could rival what we all could do. You'd have everyone on your side, including Kusanagi, which would be a big plus. I don't understand why you can't just tell them the truth."

"What could they possibly do, besides try to keep him away from me? You forget, we're bonded. I have one of his mitamas. There's some kind of link there, no matter how scary or weird."

Sakura rolled her eyes. "That's exactly my point, you stupid sacrifice girl. If you have one of his mitamas, that means he only has seven. In combat, Kusanagi could win, hands down."

"And that's exactly my point! Kusanagi <I>could</I> win! If Murakumo ends up dead, where does that leave me? We're linked. If Kusanagi kills him, how do you know that I won't die with him? There's a chance that whatever happens to him will have an effect on me. Maybe you don't care, but I don't want to die just yet."

Sakura rubbed her temples. "Right, right." She flipped open the cover of the book resting in both their laps. "Which means, the only choice we have is in these books."

"I guess. What are we looking for?"

"Protective wards. Not too obvious, or else the TAC will suspect something's up. We have to keep it low profile. If anyone figures out that we're hiding something, we're both dead. This isn't just about you anymore... I feel like an accomplice or something."

"I know. I'm sorry.. I shouldn't have said anything."

"You had to tell someone, I guess. At any rate, I already know, and I can't just let you worry about this by yourself, no matter how much I don't like you. Let's start looking for something we can use."

"Thanks, I think."

The half hour was silent, as the two of them flipped through a few of the books.

"What about this one? This ward might work."

Sakura snorted. "That's for spirits.. you know, dead people. Murakumo's kind of alive these days, isn't he?"

"I suppose. This one? It says it's just to keep the object of the ward at a distance.

"Let me see that." Sakura pulled the book into her own lap, and scanned the page's contents quickly. "Hey, that might work. It requires a sort of spell, though. Most of the stuff we need is downstairs, but we probably need to get some candles, and a few other things."

"We have candles. Plenty of them."

Sakura grabbed a sheet of paper, and began to scrawl down a short list, along with the page number of the book. "This calls for a specific type of candle. We'll need to go to the store." She looked to Momiji, apparently planning. "We can go on my bike."

Momiji nodded, and reached for her jacket, which hung from one of the bedposts.

"What for?" The bedroom door slid open, and a familiar, tanned face was visible.

"Don't you knock, Kusanagi?" Sakura leapt forward in record time, standing at the foot of the bed in an attempt to disguise their intentions. Kusanagi's eyes narrowed as he stared at the blonde, opening his mouth to reply, and Momiji took the opportunity to grab at several books within her reach, attempting to shove them underneath the bed. The rest she hastily covered with the edge of the blanket.

"That's my line, and since when do I need to knock?" Kusanagi put his hands on his hips, droplets of rain clinging to his skin, and his hair holding the slightest sheen of rainwater.

"Of course you don't need to knock!" Momiji hopped up from bed, and kicking at the books that still peeked from under her dust ruffle. "We just needed to go... well, to get some feminine products. Sakura's running low, I don't have any, and Kunikida-san doesn't keep any in the house right now. Where have you been? You're soaked!"

Kusanagi ignored her question.

Sakura feigned a pout. "Pregnant women have all the luck."

Momiji nodded her agreement, then repeated her question. "Where have you been, Kusanagi?"

"Outside," he said, apparently perplexed. "You shouldn't go out.. especially you, Momiji."

Both girls inwardly groaned. Momiji looked to Sakura helplessly, but apparently, the other girl had something else in mind; she let her eyes tear up a bit, and grabbed Kusanagi's arm, sniffling loudly.

"Then you've got to go! I'm down to my last one." Sakura let a note of pleading creep into her voice, and Kusanagi jerked his arm from her grasp, lacking the grace to keep the disgusted expression from his face. "I don't need a big package, just enough to tide me over for the next few days. And make sure you don't get me those real thick ones. They're really uncomfortable. Can you hurry, though? Like I said, I only have one left."

"Oh no you don't. Don't even think about it." He looked from left to right, first taking in Momiji's sheepish face, then Sakura's. He let out an exasperated growl, then snatched the jacket out of Momiji's hands holding it up and shoving her arm through one of the sleeves. I'll walk you there, and wait outside. There's no way in hell I'd be seen buying those."

"Thank you." Sakura gave one last sniffle. "You're a lifesaver."

***

"Go get a handcart."

"Why do I have to get it?"

"Just get the darn thing!!"

Momiji grumbled, but retrieved a small red handled basket. As they began to weave their way through the supermarket, Sakura barked out the orders, and Momiji scowled, but complied rather than voice her complaints. They grabbed their few essential items, along with their decoy product before Sakura began to muse.

"There are a couple of.. um.. specialty stores that have a lot more stuff that we could use for wards and spells."

"None of that stuff really works, does it?"

"Some of it. It's only junk if you don't know how to use it. The few who do go to stores like that all the time. But it's not like we can go anyway, with Kusanagi waiting outside."

"Whatever." They approached the checkout counter, and a short middle aged woman gave them a curios glance before ringing up their items slowly. She gave them their total, and Sakura turned to Momiji expectantly. "Well?"

"Sakura...."

"I seem to have left my purse at home."

"Sometimes I can't stand you.. Let's just get this stuff and get home."

The two of them headed home, a mystified Kusanagi in tow. He followed them slowly, completely baffled by their behavior. However, he chalked it up to their being girls, and was happier not inquiring.

"Chicks.."

***

"Momiji, will you calm down? You need to breathe.. living people breathe."

Kusanagi had been banned from their room; Sakura had pleaded stomach pains, stuff that he wouldn't have the slightest bit of interest in. Without one argument, he retreated to his room. Momiji had been beside herself that entire evening, her hope riding frighteningly high on this small possibility.

Sakura held up a thick stack of tiny papers by their corners, each with the same unique marking, and began to wave them back and forth, attempting to dry the ink a little faster. "All done. First, we put up the wards."

"Where are we putting them?"

"Around the house mostly, to keep him from getting inside." She shook her head. "And to keep him from peeping. Why do villains have to be such perverts?" It was a rhetorical question, but they both gave it a bit of thought.

Momiji sighed. "I suppose we should get this over with. We're weirding Kusanagi out. It's a wonder he hasn't figured it all out yet."

"Heh. The way we both acted today, we may not need anymore excuses to keep him away from us."

"True." Momiji raised a hand to her forehead. "I hate lying to him, though."

"I know."

"But you do know why, right? You understand?"

"I don't agree with you, but I understand, I guess."

"He wouldn't take the news sitting down. I can't let him do anything violent, and even if I tried to stop him, he wouldn't listen. Besides Murakumo coming after me, they were enemies before this. The only outcome would have to be Murakumo dead... so wards it is." She sat on the edge of the bed, chewing her lower lip.

Sakura sat in an armchair across from her, staring her in the eye. "C'mon, don't look so sad. After tonight, we might just be able to get rid of him."

"I hope you're right.."

A gust of wind disturbed the peace, and Momiji shivered. "It's getting really cold out there."

"It would be warmer in here, if you'd just learn to close your window. When are you going to figure that out?" Sakura blinked at the Kushinada.

"No, no, it's your fault this time. I closed it before we left." Momiji began to shrug back into her clammy jacket. "Let's get this over with."

In an instant, the room was bathed in darkness, and a short silence followed, before Sakura opened her mouth. "The power must have gone out."

Momiji readily agreed. "It doesn't make a lot of sense, though.. it's barely raining outside. It's just cloudy."

"Yeah, that's why it's so dark.. and it's only, what," Sakura glanced at the illuminated numbers on Momiji's bedside clock, "a little past six... is your clock right? It seems later than that."

"My clock? Sakura, the power's out."

Sakura didn't answer, but Momiji could hear her exaggerated breathing, but over that, she could hear something else, something incredibly low, almost like some sort of humming.

It was a chuckle.

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