Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER TWENTY – TWO

The sun was going down, Ryoko noted idly, the sky going from a burst of orange and crimson to the deepening purple of twilight. The very edges of the horizon beyond the purple were showing the coming tide of night, and with it, the wash of crystalline stars that floated upon the swirling currents of the darkness were like grains of sand twinkling beneath the surface of rolling water.

How could it seem so beautiful, so idyllic, she mused sadly, when it was really nothing more than a mockery in light of everything they had been forced to witness? The blood that had been spilled stained Ryoko’s thoughts a brighter crimson than the sky, and she could not forget even in the face of such natural beauty, the sacrificed lives and the new evil that had surfaced that threatened them all.

Ryoko turned her dark head away from the window as if to reject her thoughts, her eyes swinging over to the opposite side of the desk where her husband was, and concern for him clouded her eyes. With the top buttons of his shirt open, and his tie askew, he sat hunched over a pile of paper work, a heavy frown furrowing his brow, seemingly immersed in the dossier in front of him. He looked close to the breaking point, she observed worriedly; noticing the tired lines in his face, and she wished that there were something she could do to relieve the grief he was feeling.

He’d been sitting there like that for quite some time now, staring down at the same page. And Ryoko knew that he wasn’t really seeing the paper in front him, but she had yet to say anything to him about it. She should probably take him home, back to Mrs. Fujimiya’s, and yet she was afraid to suggest it, knowing that Mrs. Fujimiya still had to be told of what had happened to Kaede, and Ryoko didn’t want Daitetsu to have to be the one to tell her.

"Would you stop that?" Matsu exclaimed, and the irritation and exasperation in her voice caught Ryoko’s attention.

"What?" Sugishita replied in innocent tones, "I was just looking at it."

"For the last time, Sugishita," Matsu remarked impatiently, pulling the brightly illuminated, fluorescent phosphoric solution from his fingers, "it’s not a toy!"

She glared at him and carefully placed the flask on the table in front of her. Feeling her patience tried beyond endurance, and hoping to hear news that would put an end to Sugishita’s interference, she turned her head, casting a desperate look over her shoulder at Yaegashi who was sitting at the table in the middle of the room in front of his computer.

"Yaegashi!" she called plaintively, "are those numbers finished yet?"

Her hopes were doomed to disappointment by his answer, however.

"Not yet," he replied, pushing his glasses up his nose and shooting a sympathetic look in her direction, "just a little while longer though."

A little while longer? Matsu thought acidly, shooting a dark look at the handsome young man standing at her side. A few minutes more and she was liable to commit murder, she grumbled blackly to herself her jaw tightening as she watched Sugishita pick up her mortar and pestle and begin to play with them, knowing that his eyes were still glued to the brightly lit flask just inches away.

Reaching over, she jerked the marble instruments out of Sugi’s hands and resisting the urge to chuck them at his sandy blonde head, thunked them down on the table instead, muttering beneath her breath.

"Please try to hurry, Yaegashi," she urged looking over her shoulder one more time.

"I’m doing my best," came his diplomatic reply.

With a sigh, Matsu returned her attention towards the table in time to see Sugishita once again reaching for the phosphoric solution.

"I said no, Sugishita!" she reiterated harshly, a forbidding expression sliding across her features.

Sugishita glanced up and away from the prize he had set his eyes on and saw her frown. His fascination briefly palled in light of her irritation and he gave her a hurt look.

In his most sulky manner he mumbled, "I don’t see what the big deal was, I was –"

"I know," Matsu cut in repressively, "you were ‘just looking at it’! But since when do you use your fingers to see?" she demanded, grabbing his hand and looking at the yellow staining his fingertips. "You’ve been ‘just looking at it’ for the last forty five minutes, and not only have you gotten it on your fingers – and it doesn’t come off, by the way - but you’ve managed to spill it on the table as well." She pointed to the bright yellow drops on the lab table with an accusing finger. "Now, because of you, it needs to be re-measured!!" she complained.

Sugishita looked from her beleaguered expression, to his fingers, then to the drops on the table and he looked confounded.

"It’s just the tips of my fingers, so what’s the big deal? And why would you need to re-measure it when it’s just a few drops that you’re missing? You still have plenty left in the flask," he remarked reasonably.

He was about to pick it up again when there was a sharp SMACK! and he whipped his hand back, feeling chastised more than truly hurt. But that didn’t stop him from crinkling his nose as he opened his mouth in a silent ‘ouch’ while he gingerly rubbed the back of his hand where Matsu had slapped him.

"I swear, Sugishita, you are worse than my son, Jun!" she complained, her nostrils flaring in irritation. "When I tell you to leave something alone, I mean it!" She reached over, picked the flask up, and with one last remonstrative glance at the now subdued Sugishita, placed it on the other side of her and out of his reach. "This solution is highly unstable and it takes a long time to titrate. I don’t want to have to redo the whole thing because of your curiosity over the way it glows! – Oh, and don’t blame me when the tips of your fingers start to turn black! It’s your own fault!"

A look of alarm slid over Sugi’s face and he looked down at his yellow-stained fingertips, trying to rub the color off. "Black? They’re going to turn black? Why didn’t you tell me!?"

"I told you not to touch it," Matsu remarked in an I-told-you-so fashion, "but you just wouldn’t listen. Now you’ll be forced to live with black fingers for the next couple of days – And maybe the next time when I tell you something, you’ll listen a little better," she informed him, sounding very much like his mother.

"But –" Sugi began, still looking down at his fingers when Ryoko interrupted him.

"Sugishita!" she called to him, and Sugi’s eyes shifted to where she sat in the metal framed, plastic - seated lobby chair. Next to her was Kome, who occupied the high-backed chair behind the desk where she was still holding Noa. "Leave poor Matsu alone and let her finish what she’s doing!" Ryoko ordered in a no nonsense fashion.

As she spoke, Ryoko arched her back, trying to work out some of the kinks and the stiffness that had settled in it over the past few hours from sitting in the uncomfortably hard chair. Gosh but her rear end was numb, she thought, making a wry face as Sugishita strolled over to her. Well, look at the bright side, she told herself; at least her butt was too numb to feel the pain that Sugishita’s presence usually engendered in that general region of her body whenever he was near.

Knowing that she had just been rescued, Matsu’s brown eyes turned in Ryoko’s direction and she gave the blue-eyed brunette a grateful look. Ryoko acknowledged it with a small smile while inwardly groaning. Despite her numb posterior, she couldn’t decide which was worse, the uncomfortable chair or Sugishita’s company. And as Sugi slid her one of his practiced grins, Ryoko gritted her teeth and settled on the notion that he was far worse than any chair could ever be - even one with nails in it.

"You look beat, Ryoko," Sugi told her cheerfully as he came to a stop beside her chair and propped his hip on the corner of the desk, his blue eyes sweeping over her tired face and stiff back.

"Always the charmer, eh Sugi?" Ryoko commented dryly and then lapsed into silence.

"Why don’t you take your old man home," he suggested after looking over his shoulder at Kunikida who still sat hunched over the same piece of paper, oblivious to everything around him, including the white sheaf on the desk. "He looks worse than you do."

At his words, Ryoko’s eyes slid once more to her husband and she bit her lip, but didn’t say anything.

"Mrs. Fujimiya still doesn’t know, does she?" Kome murmured perspicaciously after taking one look at Ryoko’s distressed face. "But why should you have to be the one to tell her?"

Ryoko’s startled eyes flew to Kome’s face, "What do you mean?"

Kome shifted the sleeping baby slightly before answering, propping him more securing against her shoulder, the soft down of his hair brushing against her cheek. "Well," she began slowly, "I’m wondering if maybe the news should come from Momiji."

"But, Kome – " Ryoko began.

"Think about it, Ryoko," Kome reasoned, breaking into Ryoko’s protestations, "Momiji is her daughter. It would be hard on Momiji to have to tell her, but I think it would be a lot easier on Mrs. Fujimiya – hearing it from Momiji rather than you or Mr. Kunikida."

Ryoko didn’t say anything for a moment, but her eyes returned to Daitetsu and she knew that it would ease her mind and remove a heavy burden from her husband’s shoulders if he didn’t have to be the one to tell Kaede’s mother. But still she hesitated, not wanting to lay such a terrible task at Momiji’s door either.

"Why don’t we call Momiji and ask her what she wants to do since this involves her as well," Kome suggested, perceiving Ryoko’s struggle over the issue.

Ryoko nodded her head in agreement, but before they could make the call, the light on the phone panel lit up as an incoming call came through, and the phone began to chirp.

"I’ll get it," Yaegashi volunteered, reaching over and picking up the phone sitting next to his computer. "TAC, Izumo facility," he said, and then, ‘she’s right here – Matsu, " he called and held the phone out to her, "it’s your husband."

Matsu turned and looked over her shoulder, a sleek eyebrow raised in inquiry. Yaegashi just shrugged his shoulders so she left her table to come and take the phone from his outstretched hand.

After a few minutes of disjointed conversation she pushed the disconnect button, her pupils dilated in shock, and she just stood there, the phone still clutched between her nerveless fingers.

Ryoko took one look at her and rocketed out of her chair to hurry over to her. "What is it, Matsu? What’s wrong?" she asked urgently, reaching out and touching her friend’s arm.

"It’s Jun," Matsu said numbly, her eyes staring through Ryoko, not really seeing her. "There was a fight at school," she explained in a curiously detached way, "Two boys - one of then was Jun’s friend - they were fighting and Jun tried to stop them. The other boy pulled a knife and Jun got in the way –" Matsu stopped, her eyes finally coming into focus as she heard Ryoko’s dismayed gasp and she looked at Ryoko’s concerned face. "They’ve taken him to the hospital. My husband says that the blade penetrated between his ribs and punctured his lung –"

"Dear god," Ryoko breathed.

"- He’s stable and they have taken him to surgery…" her voice trailed off.

"You should go," Ryoko urged her gaze flickering briefly to Sugishita as he came to stand beside them, his expression sober for once.

"Come on," he told Matsu, "I’ll drive you to Tokyo."

Matsu nodded her head, removed her lab coat and grabbed up her pocket book and winter coat. As she was walking out the door she abruptly turned and blurted out, ‘But what about Noa! I was supposed to take him with me – "

"Don’t worry about the baby," Kome reassured her, "Yaegashi and I can take him for the night."

At his wife’s words, Yaegashi’s head shot around and his eyes reflected his misgivings over Kome’s offer.

"Are you certain?" Matsu said, one foot already out the door, a relieved look on her face when Kome nodded her head reassuringly. "All right then, I’ll probably be gone less than twenty-four hours. – Just long enough to make sure that he’s okay."

"Don’t be silly," Kunikida replied gruffly, speaking up for the first time, as he unfolded his big frame from the chair and approached the scientist, his eyes intense as he said, "he’s your son, Matsu. He’s more important than any lab experiment and he should come first. Anything you’re doing here can wait."

"But the radioisotopes," Matsu objected.

"They’ll still be here when you get back and I’ll have Yaegashi do some more computer analysis on what you’ve already uncovered while you’re gone. We can manage until you get back," Kunikida assured her.

Matsu finally nodded and she and Sugishita swept from the room. After they were gone, Yaegashi finally spoke up, his words directed to his wife.

"Kome," he began reluctantly, "I don’t know if our taking the baby is such a good idea…"

"Why not?" she demanded, her deep blue eyes glinting challengingly at Yaegashi. "’We’re the only logical choice," she informed him, "the Fujimiya household is already over crowded. - And you don’t really expect me to call Sakura to come here and have her do it, after today’s earlier debacle, do you?"

"No," Yaegashi replied reluctantly after a long moment, "I suppose not. But what about Momiji?"

"Poor kid," Kome murmured, "she’s been through enough for one day, Yaegashi. Don’t you think that she deserves a little bit of a break before permanently taking charge of him?"

Yaegashi sat, his mouth opening and closing, wishing he could come up with some pretext that would keep them from taking the baby home, knowing that it was useless. He eyed his wife’s determined countenance and felt his heart sink. She was determined to do this, no matter what excuse he supplied to the contrary, and he wasn’t about to expose the real reason, knowing how sensitive Kome was on that subject.

"Speaking of Momiji," Kome said her eyes moving from her husband to Ryoko as she turned the course of the conversation to another topic to hinder any further comments from Yaegashi, "weren’t we going to call her about her mother?"

Ryoko nodded her head and re-crossed the room to the desk.

"Do you want me to do it?" Kome asked softly when Ryoko stood staring at the phone without picking it up.

Ryoko shook her head. "No," she said in resignation, finally picking it up. "I’ll do it."

Momiji frowned blearily down at the bottom of her empty cup, her green eyes wide as she tried to focus them. That had been her third cup of hot sake, she thought in frustration, and apart from feeling slightly woozy headed, it hadn’t done a darn thing to help relax her enough to try and get some sleep.

The still too vivid memory of Kusanagi’s lips was the culprit, she thought in irritation. Putting a tentative finger up and rubbing her lower lip, she remembered the feel of Kusanagi’s lips against hers and was unable to shake the restive sensation that burned in the middle of her chest. Letting her hand fall to her side, Momiji scowled impatiently at herself.

Why couldn’t she just push it from her mind? She asked herself. She would have thought that three good doses of sake would have at least helped to take the edge off of the memory of it, but it hadn’t. She was still as restless as before if not more so.

"Maybe one m-m-more cup will do the tr-r-ick," she mumbled to herself and climbed unsteadily to her feet.

Tiredly weaving her way over to the stove, Momiji picked up the kettle and held it over her cup, waiting patiently for it to be filled. But nothing came out. Staring blankly at the kettle, it took a moment or two for her addled brain to realize that it was empty, and only then after she had taken the lid off and stuck an emerald orb over the top of it to stare down at its shiny bottom.

"Hmm," she mused aloud, "I th-thought I put more in there th-than that. Oh well," she sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

She tipped the kettle back into its upright position and poured a little more sake into it. Then turning the stove on, she reached up and was putting the bottle of sake away when the phone rang. With a yawn, Momiji turned and shuffled her way across the kitchen and entered the living room, absently wondering why the bottom of her feet felt so funny. Before she had a chance to further analyze the strange sensation, her sleepy eyes were yanked wide open as she somehow stubbed the toe of her slipper against the floor and went careening to the ground, her arms flailing in the sleeves of her robe and her hair flying out behind her in a billowing cloud.

She hit the floor with a hard THUD! and then an Oof! as the wind was knocked out of her. Scrambling to her knees, she tried to stand, but found that gathering herself up off the floor was proving more difficult that getting down there had been. Her arms and legs were tangled in the bulky folds of her nightgown and robe and every time she tried to rise, she was pulled up short when she stepped on either one or the other. Making a noise of frustration, Momiji finally circumvented the problem by throwing her arm over the back of the sofa and hauling herself to her feet that way. Flustered by the her lack of coordination and subsequent struggle, Momiji hurriedly stretched for the phone before her answering machine picked it up and promptly dropped it to the ground. Dipping down once more, Momiji swept the phone up and finally managed to answer it in a breathless, harassed voice.

"Momiji, is that you?" Ryoko’s voice crackled in her ear.

"Unh-huh," she replied with a grimace, trying to catch her breath, "I f-f-fell b’fore I goto the ph-phone," she mumbled.

"What was that loud noise?" Ryoko wanted to know.

"Well, after I f-f-fell, I d-dropped the ph-phone," Momiji explained vaguely, not really wanting to go into it.

"Oh, I see," Ryoko replied not really seeing at all. There was a slight pause, and then she added, "Momiji, have you been? – are you all right? You sound… a little funny."

"Mmm," Momiji stalled, giving her brain a chance to catch up with Ryoko’s words, "I’m f-f-fine, just a li’l ti-ired is all."

Again there was a slight pause as if Ryoko was trying to decide what to do and then, "I needed to talk to you about your mother, but perhaps, now is not a good time."

"W-wait! - What about my mother?" Momiji asked abruptly, her thoughts suddenly coming into sharp focus.

"Well, we haven’t told her about – Kaede – and I wasn’t sure what to do. Do you want me to -?" Ryoko began formulating the question, but Momiji’s voice broke in.

"I’ll do it," Momiji responded somewhat woodenly.

"Are you sure?" Ryoko asked hesitantly, suddenly feeling horrible for asking.

"I’m sure," Momiji affirmed, passing her hand over her face, trying to erase some of the fuzziness she was feeling. "But not ‘til t’morrow," Momiji temporized, the haze of alcohol and fatigue once again dulling her senses. "I’ll do it t’morrow, ‘kay, Ry-y-yoko?"

"Okay," Ryoko agreed, and then before Momiji could hang up, she lowered her voice to a whisper so that no one could hear her and asked, "Momiji…have you been - drinking?"

‘Jus’ a li’l bit," Momiji whispered back even though she was in the room alone, "I yam re-e-ally ti-ired but I yam having tr-rouble sleeping, s-s-so, I th-thought a li’l s-sake might help. But," Momiji was shaking her head regretfully as if Ryoko was standing there looking at her, "all it did was make the bottom of my feet go numb."

"The bottom of your feet are numb?" Ryoko repeated and there was a ghost of a laugh in her voice.

""Yep," Momiji nodded her head emphatically, "I think th-that’s the r-r-reason I f-fell when I came to get the ph-phone."

"I see," Ryoko replied again in a carefully neutral sort of way, "well, Momiji, I don’t think you should have any more sake if it affects the bottom of your feet. Otherwise you might not make it up the stairs to bed."

"Mmm," Momiji stalled again for her brain’s sake and then finally added, "you’re prob’ly right. N-n-no more s-s-sake for me tonight then. But p-please don’t s-say anything to Mom about Kaede, Ryoko," Momiji entreated, her voice despite the obvious slur, very serious, "I w-want to be the one to tell her. I think it would be better that way."

"All right, I promise I wont say anything to you mother," Ryoko vowed and then hung up shortly afterwards.

Momiji put the phone down, and then jumped out of her skin when a shrill whistle sounded from the kitchen.

"Crap!" she muttered and bolted into the kitchen, tripping twice on her way.

She had forgotten all about the sake on the stove and it had started to boil. Grabbing a tea towel, she turned the stove off and snatched the copper kettle from the hot burner to keep the liquid contents from spewing out of the spout. As she lifted it, she felt the scalding wetness of the steam bite into her wrist, and she juggled the kettle between her hands until she managed to turn the spout outwards and away from her.

"Momiji?" came a sudden, loud voice from behind her. "I thought you were in bed. What the heck are you – Yiaahhhh!" Kusanagi ended in a yelp of pain as Momiji, startled by the close sound of his voice, spun around on her heel, tipping the kettle in the process so that hot sake was slung from the spout and splattered across his bare chest.

Kusanagi jumped back, his hand over his chest and a string of curses filled the air between them. Momiji’s eyes rounded in dismay and her mouth flew open as she watched big angry welts begin to rise on the smooth skin of his chest.

"Oh, m’gosh," she breathed contritely, her hand going to her mouth, "I’m s-so sorry, Sk… Sk… - K’sanagi."

Kusanagi, who had been clenching his jaw and looking down at the damage he had received, looked sharply up at the sound of Momiji’s slurred speech, his eyes sweeping critically over the unfocused green of her eyes, and the flurry of color that stained her cheeks.

"Have you been drinking?" he asked her accusingly.

Momiji’s mouth shut with a snap at the acrid sound of his tone. "No, I have not!" she bristled indignantly, a glint in her emerald green eyes, and her back ramrod straight. But then, too tired to maintain the pose for longer than a second or two, she immediately slumped over and the glint clouded to a dull shimmer as she nibbled on her bottom lip, "well, not a lot, anyway. J-just some atsukan"

Kusanagi blinked disbelievingly at her several times and then frowned. "How much is ‘not a lot’?" he wanted to know, trying to ignore how adorable she looked standing there, bundled up to her ears in her fluffy robe, staring owlishly up at him.

"Jus’ 'th-three cups," Momiji informed him, "but they were s-small."

She took a step toward him, and held her fingers up in a pinching motion as if to demonstrate just how ‘small’ small was, the kettle of hot sake still grasped in her other hand tipping at a precarious angle as she moved. Kusanagi’s eyes dipped in alarm from her face to her hand, which was level with his waist, knowing that she wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing, and knowing, too, that if she spilled anymore it was going to burn a much more sensitive area than before.

"Whoa, there, Princess," he said, his gloved hand shooting out, grasping her by the wrist and raising it upwards until he could safely remove the kettle from her fingers without having boiling sake poured down his groin.

Giving her a speaking glance, he brushed past her, leaving the smell of sandalwood in his wake as he took the kettle and carried it to the sink, pouring out the contents and then rinsing it clean. As he passed her, Momiji breathed in deeply, fully appreciating the scent that clung to him and her head swiveled around, following his motions with keen interest.

Feeling slightly useless to be standing there with nothing to do. Momiji’s fingers fluttered restlessly to the belt of her robe while she watched him, and she began tugging at the knot she had made, loosening it so that the ends trailed along the floor. She was unaware of that fact however, too caught up in admiring the object of her affections

Gosh, but he looked so nice, she thought breezily, a dreamy smile curving her lips as she let her eyes move over the back of his dark, green - black hair that was still slightly wet from his shower and range across his broad shoulders. He was superbly built, she mentally drooled; her eyes following the broad tapering line of his back down to his waist where they came to rest on the only piece of clothing he was sporting at the moment.

Ooh! He was wearing his black shorts, Momiji noted with interest, and then hard on that thought came another more interesting realization. Kusanagi’s rear end looked rather nice; very pleasing as a matter of fact, the tight black fabric of his shorts defining the lean shape of his backside. And that thought was followed by an even more intriguing one, as Momiji suddenly wondered what he would look like without them.

Dear god, just what was she thinking!? a voice somewhere in the back of her addled brain shouted at her. Feeling her ears begin to burn as the color rose from her neck all the way to her forehead, Momiji managed to rip her eyes from Kusanagi’s derriere and just in time too, as he chose that particular moment to turn around and give her a discerning glance.

Momiji kept her eyes wide and tried to assume an innocent expression, but knew that she had failed, for he took one look at her face, his eyes narrowing, and demanded, "Okay, Momiji, what did you do?"

"Do?" she echoed vacuously, "I dunno what you mean. I din’t do anything."

"Then why are you blushing?" he demanded his eyes narrowing even further as the color in her face grew brighter and brighter.

Unable to stop them, Momiji’s wayward eyes flicked downward over Kusanagi’s body, drawn like a magnet by the black color of his shorts, but they were snagged short by the blotches of fiery red that stood out brightly even on his bronzed skin instead, and she stepped towards him, a look of concern etched across her face.

"Oh gosh, I’m so sorry," she apologized again, "I should prob’y get s-something to put on that."

"It’s all right, Momi – ungh!" Kusanagi’s voice was clipped off as Momiji’s toes got tangled in the trailing ends of her belt and she torpedoed towards him out of control.

Her forehead speared him in the middle of the chest, and her nose smacked against the solid wall of muscle so hard that it brought tears to her eyes.

Kusanagi quickly put his arms around her and pulled her close to keep her from bouncing to the floor and grimaced as the fabric from her robe rubbed against the burns on his chest. With strained patience, he waited for her to find her feet and was getting ready to let go of her when he felt her arms come up and circle around to his back.

As Momiji pressed closer to him, he stiffened involuntarily, the discomfort in his chest increasing. Biting back a curse, he tensed and gritted his teeth against the pain needling across his skin as the softness of her robe continued to grate against his chest. But he forgot all about that when he felt Momiji’s fingers begin to tentatively explore the bare flesh of his back, sending an electrical jolt through his body as they began to feather softly along his spine.

Now Kusanagi tensed and gritted his teeth for an entirely different reason as he felt the lower part of his body begin to respond to her touch, immediately and inconveniently stiffening in the cramped quarters of his black shorts. Apparently his long cold shower had been neither long enough nor cold enough to even dull the effect that she had on him.

In fact, it seemed as if his senses were even more heightened than usual, and he was now almost fully erect, just from the feel of her hands lightly running up and down his back. Becoming alarmed, he reached around and untangled her arms from behind him, bringing them forward and then gently nudging her away, until she was no longer touching him. Momiji looked slightly hurt at his rebuff, but there was little he could do, for he was not in the mood for slow torture, which is what her close proximity to him was akin to at this point.

Once she was at a safe distance, relief and frustration swamped him at the same time and Kusanagi struggled to keep his conflicting emotions from showing, knowing that whey would only further confuse Momiji’s already fuzzy logic. But looking into her hazy green eyes, he found he couldn’t dismiss her wounded look, and a disturbingly heavy sensation began to press against his chest the longer he was aware of it.

Suddenly he needed to touch her, to try and make her sadness disappear and to alleviate the strange feeling in the middle of his chest. So he reached out and softly traced her cheek with his thumb, the corners of his mouth tipping up into a slightly strained smile as he stared down into her sleepy eyes.

"You really are a klutz," he teased lightly, and chuckled when he heard her indignant snort.

"I yam not," she denied, and then made allowances for her momentary lapse of coordination by adding, "it’s jus’, right now, the bot-tom of my feet are a bit numb."

Feeling embarrassed and knowing somewhere deep inside, far beyond her sleep deprived state, that she sounded like an idiot, Momiji’s eyes shifted away from his amused expression and she began to self-consciously pick at the fluff of her robe, a small furrow forming above her nose as her lip jutted out in a childish pout.

All four of Kusanagi’s green brows soared high over his cat-like eyes at Momiji’s mumbled confession and her childish expression and he watched her lip inch out even further when he responded to her by murmuring sardonically, "Are you sure that it’s just your feet? Because it sounds like your tongue is a little numb too, Princess." And then after a slight pause, he added, "Just how much did you drink, Momiji?"

The pout evaporated into a look of deep thought, and Momiji’s sleepy eyes swung back to Kusanagi’s face.

"I thought …din’t I tell you already?" Momiji asked him, looking slightly confused now, and Kusanagi rolled his eyes.

"I think it’s time to say goodnight, Princess," he told her taking a step towards her.

"Oh no, but I can’t – you s-s-see, I’m not ti-ired yet," she protested, earnestly waving her hand in front of her to keep him at a distance, "an’if I try to go upstairs now, I’m not g-‘goin’ t’be able to s-s-sleep -"

"I find that highly unlikely, Momiji. You look ready to drop," he observed, noting her dropping shoulders and cloudy green eyes.

He didn’t doubt that Momiji had only had three cups of sake, but their effects had been greatly magnified by her fatigue. In fact, he doubted very seriously that, if had she been fully rested, she would be quite as…relaxed in mind and body as she was now even after the same three cups that she had drunk tonight.

But as things currently stood, she would be lucky to make it out of the kitchen, much less up the stairs under her own power. Especially if her feet were…numb, he thought wryly. And no matter what she said, she truly did look as if she could go to sleep standing on her feet; her protestations striking him as those of an overly tired child who has been told it’s bedtime and who was fighting to stay awake with all her might just to prove otherwise.

Unsurprisingly, Momiji’s behavior continued in the same vein, and having been told something she didn’t wish to hear, she ignored Kusanagi’s statement and instead told him, "- And b’sides th-that -" she pointed a vague finger in his direction, "- I n-n-need to fix you up."

Kusanagi’s face registered comical dismay at the idea of allowing her anywhere near him in her uncoordinated inebriated state, and he hastened to reassure her, "No, no, that’s completely unnecessary, Momiji, I think I cant handle things on my own – "

"No, Sk… - Sk… - K’sanagi," she mumbled, shaking her head emphatically, swaying on her feet because the movement made her dizzy.

She abruptly quit speaking and would have keeled over right then and there had Kusanagi not reached out a steadying hand to keep her upright. With amused exasperation, he waited until she regained her balance and after her mumbled, ‘thank you’ let her go, waiting with exaggerated patience for her to finish what she was saying.

After a few moments of restless fidgeting, Momiji’s green eyes swung back to his face, and her chestnut brows furrowed in concentration as she struggled to pull her thoughts together and recall what it was she had been saying. Then a look of delighted triumph flitted across her face and she raised a finger and used it to punctuate her thought as she finished it.

"It is nesra- nesra- nesracessary," she stumbled over the word, unable to get her tongue around it, but forged on anyway, "it w-w-was my fault, so it’s the least I can do," she explained and then added, "- to help fix you, that is."

Kusanagi waited to make sure that she was finished speaking, and he stared quietly at her in secret amusement while she stood there in dazed oblivion, happy with herself that she had thoroughly explained things in a completely satisfactory manner. Kusanagi could feel the smile he had been trying to hide begin to curve his lips and he stifled the urge to chuckle at the expression on her face, knowing that his amusement would be misinterpreted and would only serve to rile her. - And considering the unpredictability of her current mood, riling her could be a very dangerous thing, indeed.

The silence stretched on between them and Momiji began to wonder why Kusanagi didn’t say anything. Slowly her feelings of warm satisfaction began to disintegrate into uncertainty. And as she peered up at Kusanagi, his look of inquiry told her that he was waiting for her to continue, but Momiji couldn’t think of anything to add, so she cleared her throat and folded her hands in front of her and tried not to look too self-conscious.

"Are you finished, now, Princess?" he asked quizzically, staring at her with an unfathomable smile.

"Um, yes, I th-think so," she replied slowly, trying to figure out what the smile meant.

"Good," he replied the smile widening before she had had a good chance to analyze it, and then he swooped forward, and ignoring Momiji’s surprised squeak, lifted her off her feet, one hand going beneath her knees and the other around her shoulders.

After a moment of delay, which was necessary for Momiji’s brain to cogitate what was going on, she began to push and squirm, her struggles causing razor sharp pains to shoot through the burns on his chest and Kusanagi drew in a sharp breath and clenched his jaw.

"Will you stop that," he demanded in strained accents, tightening his hold on her as he quickly carried her from the room and up the stairs.

"Put me down, Suk!… -Suk!…" she stammered.

"Suk-suk?" Kusanagi asked. His breath tickled against her cheek and Momiji felt goose bumps break out across her neck and arms as he continued speaking. "Who the heck are you talking to, Princess?" he teased.

"You kn-know very well, I’m speaking to you, Suk! – Suk! -" Momiji stopped and growled in frustration before managing to spit out, "Kus –a – na – gi!"

"Wow, I’m impressed," Kusanagi told her, turning his head and grinning broadly down into her stormy eyes, "you actually remembered my name – and without any help from me, too. That’s quite and accomplishment, Princess!"

"Suk!… Kusanagi!" Momiji sputtered angrily.

"Wow! The whole word that time," he chuckled, climbing to the top of the stairs now and turning towards her room. "You just keep getting better and better. I bet you’ll be able to say a whole sentence with my name in it in another minute or two!"

By now they were in her darkened room, the twilight having long faded so that what light there was spilled into the room from the hallway behind them.

"W-w-would you puhlize put me d-d-down!?" she gritted out and then was surprised when he obliged.

"As you wish," he murmured, gently setting her to her feet in front of her bed and watching her gaze flit around the darkened room before settling back on him, a protest forming on her lips. "I know you want to help me, Momiji, but I can take care of myself," he assured her smoothly. "Now lay down and go to sleep," he ordered firmly, his words softened when he put his hands up and cupped her cheeks.

Even in the semi-darkness, he could see the shimmer of her eyes and he felt their pull on him as she stared up at him. Unable to stop himself, Kusanagi leaned forward and lightly brushed his lips against hers, wanting to feel her warmth for just a moment before he left her. He kept his touch light, resisting the urge to pull her closer. He was preparing to end the kiss when she sighed and leaned into him.

Kusanagi felt a wrenching sensation in the pit of his stomach at her unconscious gesture of wanting more and without realizing it until it was too late, he had moved his hands away from her face, allowing his arms to snake around her and pull her tightly against him. Barely noticing the small stabs of pain from the burns on his chest, he increased the pressure of his kiss, his mouth opening over hers and his tongue slipping inside her mouth as his desire flared out of control. He was aware of nothing but the feel and the taste of her until she reached her hand out and touched him and then he jumped back in pain, abruptly releasing her.

"Sk…Sk… Kusanagi," she stuttered breathlessly, realizing that she had hurt him, "I’m sorry."

She took a step towards him and watched him retreat a step, his hand still clutching the burns on his chest.

"I think it would be best if we said goodnight," Kusanagi told her, his voice roughened by strong emotion and the pain roiling through him.

He reluctantly fell back, not wanting to leave but knowing that if he didn’t he wasn’t strong enough to control his reactions to her. If she had been just a little more sober, he thought, and then clamped down on that forbidden notion, knowing that if she had been just a little more sober this probably never would have happened.

Momiji watched as he slowly turned away from her, his hand still clutched tightly to his chest and felt guilt and remorse lodge in a lump in the middle of her throat. Once again she had managed to hurt him with her thoughtless actions.

Why did she have to be so clumsy? She silently lamented, wishing that for once she could do something right.

Kusanagi continued moving away from her until he was framed within the doorway, where he stopped and looked back over his shoulder at her one more time.

"Good night, Momiji," he murmured quietly.

Momiji stood where he left her until she heard him enter his room, and one thought brightly crystallized like the sun burning through the clouds: she had to help him. No matter what he said, she couldn’t not help him, knowing that the pain he was feeling was entirely her fault.

Filled with purpose, her feet began churning forward, but before she had taken two steps, she once again tripped on the trailing end of her belt. This time she managed to remain upright, staggering half way across the room before she regained her balance. Jerking the belt free, she glared at it and tossed it back on her bed before slowly plodding from her room and down the hall.

"This w-w-would be a heckuva lot easier," she muttered crabbily to herself, "if I could f-f-feel the bottom of my feet."

Finally making it to the bathroom, Momiji went inside and flipped on the light, immediately reaching for her first aid kit. Putting it on the counter, she removed the tube of burn ointment that Kusanagi had purchased for her.

"I guess this won’t go to waste after all," she murmured before she replaced the kit on the shelf.

Clutching the tube in her hand, she flipped the light out and veered towards Kusanagi’s room, her mouth pulled into a straight line of determination. She would help him, she thought tenaciously, even if it killed him.