by Momiji Hime

Smooth, flawless pale legs. Cute, little ankles. Curvy, well shaped hips. A thin, petite waist. And he didn't even want to get started on her facial features. Those fine boned, freckled cheeks. That full head of thick, wheat colored hair. That flirtatious, self-confident grin.

She sprawled lazily on an armchair, her long legs stretched out before her, resting on a cushioned footstool. She tapped her well kept fingers on a shapely thigh, her restlessness apparent in her actions. A hand stole upward to irritably brush an annoying lock of hair from her eyes, before resting on her leg again.

Sugishita heaved a sigh. She was too cute.

A he was such an idiot. She was a kid. Albeit a clever, aragami-busting one, but a kid nonetheless.

He rested on a chair opposite her, trying heroically to keep his gaze elsewhere, which was hard, since there was nothing else in the room more riveting than her. The wall hanging just wasn't as

fascinating.

"Sugishita?"

"er-um.." He jerked to attention.

"Do I look okay?"

"Why?"

"You're staring at me. Is something wrong?"

"Wrong.. eh-no. Nothing wrong."

Sakura arched a brow inquisitively. Sugishita could sometimes be a weird one. He was hard to figure out. He'd been staring. She'd been concerned his eyes were going to pop clear out of his head. He was supposed to be clean and composed, but as the last few days had made evident, he wasn't.

Oddly enough, she found this tidbit of information extremely comforting. In the past, he'd had yet to give her a second glance, and Sakura wasn't the type to turn away from attention, and he was giving her plenty of it. Experimentally, she raised a leg, pretending to scratch an itch, and almost snickered as he swallowed a bit audibly.

Sakura liked men as much as the next lady, but she decided overkill wasn't going to fly, and lowered her leg. No sense in tormenting him. Her outfit wasn't overly revealing; she wore a tank top and a pair of shorts, both lifted from Momiji's summer clothes drawer at the bottom of her dresser. Although the shorts were a bit snug, they didn't push anything outward, and Sakura took satisfaction in the fact that her hips were shapelier than the Kushinada's. She'd bet a million that Sugishita wouldn't be drooling if he saw Momiji in them.

She didn't have much more time to think; she could hear the front door downstairs being opened, and shortly after, Momiji's light, quick footsteps, followed by Kusanagi's slower, slightly heavier ones.

"That didn't take long," muttered Sugishita as he straightened in his chair.

A second later, Momiji burst into her bedroom, Kusanagi in her wake. "We're back! What have you been up t- are those my shorts?"

"Yes." Sakura gave her a flippant smile. "What about it?"

Momiji scowled, her gentle features turning to irritation. "Don't you think you should have asked first?"

"You weren't here. And besides, your hips aren't big enough to fill them out properly, so what are you so upset about?"

With reddened cheeks, Momiji shut her bedroom door a little too hard. "They're supposed to be loose! Just because I'm not fat doesn't mean I can't wear them. You're going to stretch them."

"Fat?! Who are you calling fat? The term is shapely. Voluptuous. Maybe you're just too thin. Kusanagi? Does Momiji look a bony to you?"

Kusanagi adopted a look similar to a deer being caught in headlights. "Well, no."

"So she's fat?"

"No!! She's not fat... she's.. in between, or something."

Momiji turned to Kusanagi, tugging on his arm. "What are you trying to say? That I'm almost fat, or almost bony?"

Sugishita snickered. Kusanagi, dragged into a catfight. This was cute.

"No!" Kusanagi looked around desperately, and finding no help in Sugishita, looked to Sakura, who gave him that sly smile she was famous for. "You're not fat, or skinny. I mean, you're in between." He went out on a limb, praying to God that he wouldn't say something to endanger his health. "That means perfect, right?" He put his hand behind his head, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Right?"

Sakura oohed sarcastically. "Aww.. how sweet. Are you two going to kiss again?"

Sugishita nodded his agreement. "Very sweet- wait, they kissed?"

Sakura perched on the arm of his chair, silently agreeing to join forces with him. "And even with all this going on, you still manage to get a little action, Momiji. I commend you." She added a silly grin for emphasis.

Momiji and Kusanagi both blushed furiously.

"I knew you were peeking in on us!" Momiji ground out, clenching her teeth.

The bedroom door opened. "Aren't they adorable, Daitetsu? Just like sisters."

Kunikida grunted. "It sounded like a catfight to me."

"Yes, yes, dear. Sisters do that. They fight all the time."

Sakura pulled out a nail file out of Momiji's vanity drawer, returned to her spot on the arm of Sugishita's chair, and began vigorously evening out her nails. "Sisters? Well, at least we know who got Mom and Dad's good looks."

Momiji stepped none too lightly over to her dresser and yanked open a drawer, quickly producing a change of clothes. "I'm taking a bath," she snapped, stomping from the bedroom.

Kusanagi wanted to follow, but thought the better of it, depositing himself on her bed instead.

"What?" Sakura held up her hands, pleading innocence. "She called me fat!"

Momiji's voice echoed from down the hallway. "She took my clothes without asking! And she called me skinny!" Her comment was followed by the slamming of the bathroom door.

Ryoko smiled, her rioting hormones causing her eyes to mist up slightly. "Just like sisters..."

***

Too many trees... were there this many here before? The whole house was dark, except for two windows, which were still dimly lit, probably from a small lamp or a nightlight, both on the end of the house that he wished to enter. Ah, well.

So close... right through that window was his possession.. his prize.

The figure picked through the bushes and other foliage, gingerly climbing his way up the tree closest to the bedroom window, soundlessly bringing himself closer to his goal. One quick leap was all it took to get himself through the window, and inside the dark bedroom.

Thick, black lashes clouded his vision as he blinked, taking in the scene before him. Thin, billowing white curtains swept along, rhythmically, due to the open window. He parted the soft fabric, rubbing it between his long, pale fingers. Pushing away the material fully, he felt his eyes brighten, his senses becoming more acute, and the scene unfolded before him. A small nightlight also burned, but shed very little more than a soft, dim glow. It, however meager, served it's purpose, keeping the room from being completely dark, and illuminating the bed, and it's occupant.. or rather, occupants. His gaze shifted to the first one, the one closest to the window, to him.

With steps softer than a whispers, He crept to the large bed, kneeling before it. He took in the sleeping girl's pert, upturned nose, her long, light colored lashes, and the scattered freckles upon her cheeks and nose. Her face was partially hidden by her wispy, flyaway blonde locks, but he didn't bother to remedy that; his attention was already beginning to focus on the other girl.

His next stop was the opposite side of the bed, to examine the other young girl. Her hair was drawn back into an pony tail, which only seemed to enhance her charm, for some nutty reason. Her hair was a bit too short to be pulled back completely, so stray wisps of her soft, chestnut hair fanned her cheek, moving slightly as she breathed in and out. The man leaned in closely, so close, in fact, he could feel the sleeping girl's gentle, sweet breath on his own face.

A slight rustle was the only indication of movement, as the intruder managed to remove the thick cover from the girl's body, shoving it aside onto the other girl, who seemed, in her sleep, to welcome the extra warmth.

Her sleeping form was garbed in a light, almost translucent nightshirt, barely skimming her thighs, exposing her well shaped legs. And to think, as many times as she had fallen down, tripped, or ran into motionless objects, her pale legs still remained scar free and without a flaw. It seemed luck had been with her for once.

He appeared almost mesmerized by those long, dark lashes that fanned the delicateness of her cheeks. Her lips were pursed slightly as she slept, and her breath escaped her mouth in small sighs. Her fitting nightshirt clung to her feminine curves beautifully, emphasizing her petite, yet shapely body. He noted the steady rising and falling of her chest as she breathed, the way the girl's eyelids would flutter from time to time.

A long, slender finger reached out, tracing an invisible pattern on her cheek ever so gently, then moved inward, to her mouth. His fingers lingered over the girl's lips, languidly exploring the texture of her skin. The intruder let out a great sigh, his fingers almost absorbing the feel of her lips. They were cool to the touch, slightly moist, and ever so soft.

The sweet little thing. The sweet, innocent... unsuspecting thing.

He leaned over, brushing his own mouth over the sleeping girl's forehead, then down to her cheek. A shiver took over the man's body as he slid lower still, to the petal like softness of the girl's lips.

A foreign spark ran though him, so electric that it threatened to render him senseless. Instead of drawing away at the mind numbing sensation, the kiss was slowly deepened, as the innocent girl's lips continued to be manipulated.

With the utmost gentleness, he leaned over, and gathered her into his arms, pulling her to his chest while he took her place on the bed. He pulled her close, tucking her head beneath his chin, inhaling her scent gently. She smelled so fresh, and clean, but at the same time, heady, threatening to overwhelm him.

He simply couldn't fathom why she was so damn hypnotic, such a shock to his system. Being in her vicinity was weakening, staggering, her nearness wreaked havoc on his senses and body. It must be the bond. Her having one of his mitamas probably would be the valid explanation. She was coincidentally enough, a part of him. Him being more interested in her had to be a side effect of that. Meshing with someone had to have an ass-backwards effect like this.

He kept cradling her with his right arm, the other arm reaching upward, his hand wandering to the top of her nightshirt, easily easing the opening the first three buttons, exposing her chest to his spellbound gaze. His attention wasn't centered on her breasts, however. He was intent on something else.

It reacted almost immediately to his touch, emanating a soft, dim glow. He gently traced the outline of her mitama, formerly his, and sighed. Soon it would be in his possession. And so would she.

He gently returned her to her previous position, arranging her covers back over her body, preparing to depart. He'd remained too long. He shouldn't have been here this soon, anyway. If she had told anyone she had seen him, any number of the TAC could have been on watch, and he wasn't able to utilize all of his abilities yet, and even when he could, they'd be limited until he reclaimed his mitama, and he would be almost defenseless against them.

He exited the way that he came in, thanks to Momiji not having enough sense to close her windows. Silly, silly girl. That was his last thought as he took one more look, then boosted himself from the roof onto a tree branch, leaping to the ground. He disappeared into the darkness, back to his temporary home.

***

Momiji sat ramrod straight, a single trickle of sweat running down her cheek. She couldn't remember the last time one of her dreams had been so vivid, and had affected her so deeply. Her heartbeat was almost painful, the thudding threatening to tear her apart, increasing to frightening speed. Her nightshirt was in disarray, buttons undone, and her bedsheets tangled about her legs. Breath was desperately needed, and she began to wheeze, her hand resting on her chest and she tried to control her breathing.

"..Momiji?" Sakura blinked strangely at her, batting the sleep from her eyes. "What is it?" She was ignored, as Momiji tried to bring herself under control. Sakura reached out with a reluctant hand, grabbing Momiji's wrist to gain her attention, but let go immediately, as Momiji shook it off, and began kicking and struggling to free herself from the tangles of sheets and blankets. She managed to loosen herself, and fell to the floor in her haste.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Sakura whispered fiercely, leaning over the edge of the bed.

She struggled to her feet, her mind no longer hers, and raced from her bedroom, her feet carrying her rapidly to a room at the end of the hall. She didn't take the care to be quiet. She didn't care. Not bothering to knock, she shoved open the door, flinging herself into the semi darkness. A small lamp lit up the bedroom, and the trees next to the window cast frightening shadows onto the walls as the wind tossed the branches every which way.

Assuming Kusanagi was asleep, she hurled herself in the general direction of the bed, then almost fell to the floor as she ran into his chest and rebounded.

"What the hell are you doing up this late?" Kusanagi whispered, gripping her arms to keep her from falling.

She could barely speak. She just looked up at him, her breath coming out in short, frantic gasps. He could clearly see her face in the light, and what he saw did little to bring him comfort. Her eyes were wide, wildly frightened. "N..nightmare.. in my room.."

It was there, in that very same spot, on the floor, where Kusanagi awkwardly held her, running his hand over her sweat-soaked forehead and damp hair, while she fought for her breath. Her skin was clammy to his touch, and he held her closer, the urge to still her shuddering overriding his confusion.

"It's okay," he said quietly, alarmed. "It was just a nightmare." Her breath fell hot and heavy against his neck, erratic and frenzied. "Calm down, it's alright.. come on, breathe."

The overhead light went on, the brightness blinded the two of them momentarily, and then as they both were able to focus, they spied both Kunikida and Ryoko, standing in the doorway.

"Nightmare," Kusanagi explained, attempting to bring her comfort by running his hands over her back.

But closer she huddled, fighting back tears. That had been no nightmare.

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