Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Yaegashi slowly shadowed Kome into the apartment building, and followed her onto the elevator. He held his silence, but every time he glanced at his wife, his uneasiness grew to a new level. He pushed the button for their floor and felt his stomach drop to his shoes as the elevator began it’s upward ascent, leaving his stomach behind on the ground level as he shot his wife another sideways glance and saw the enraptured expression on her face. Inside the panic began to build and he quickly looked away from her, knowing that his expression clearly reflected the discomfort he was feeling.

Why he bothered trying to hide it, though, he didn’t know, he thought, grumbling to himself. She was so wrapped up in the baby that he could be dancing the Flamenco naked in front of her with a rose clenched between his teeth and she would have never noticed. He felt a dull throb begin to pulsate against his temples when he thought about the next twelve hours and his gaze slid apprehensively back to Kome, knowing that, for her, this was a taste of what she had been longing for.

He could see it written across her face as she stood quietly next to him, her red head bent and her deep blue eyes focused on the crown of the sleeping infant nestled against her, a soft smile tipping the corners of her lips. It was a side of her that she rarely exhibited, a side that he enjoyed seeing and one that would become more frequent if things were different – but all it meant for now, was that heartache lay ahead.

Damn! he grumbled to himself, feeling his jaw clench involuntarily.

He knew that this had been a bad idea. His resentful gaze speared the sleeping bundle before he once again looked away and made himself relax. His stomach finally caught up with them and settled somewhere in the region of his toes as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. It wasn’t the baby’s fault, he reminded himself as they left the elevator and continued down the hall to the small, furnished apartment they were renting while staying in Izumo.

He slid his key into the door and Kome spoke to him for the first time.

"Yoshiki," she murmured quietly, "I think I’ll let you take Kishiru out for his nightly walk tonight."

Yaegashi’s gaze swiveled back to her as he automatically turned the knob and began opening the apartment door.

"But, Kome," he protested, dismayed, "you know how he is – " Yaegashi broke off as he thought about the lumbering saliva factory awaiting them on the other side of the door.

Who would have guessed that the tiny puppy that Kome had rescued from those mutant Aragami dogs so long ago could have grown into such a massive behemoth? Yaegashi was fond of him, but he liked to be fond of him at a distance, since Kishiru, despite his big body, still thought he was a lap dog. And taking him out for a walk was like to being drug around while tied to the bumper of a small car. Or at least it was for Yaegashi, since Kishiru would only obey commands from Kome.

"Why don’t you let me watch the baby for a while and you walk Kishiru," Yaegashi suggested desperately, already knowing what the answer would be.

"I don’t feel like it tonight," Kome made the excuse as Yaegashi opened the door the rest of the way.

Any reply that Yaegashi felt like making was sabotaged when he heard the THUMP! THUMP! of Kishiru’s tail whacking the open door as the small mountain of white and beige fur launched himself at Yaegashi, causing him to stagger backwards, out into the hallway under the dog’s weight.

Kishiru might only obey Kome, but he had a particular affection for the soft speech and gentle hands of his bespeckled master, and he felt obligated to show it each time he saw him.

"Down boy!" Yaegashi managed in a strained boy, trying to push the huge paws from his chest and pat Kishiru’s head at the same time.

"Here," Kome said, thrusting Kishiru’s leash into Yaegashi’s hand before he could get back inside the apartment. "Try not to keep him out too long," she told him.

Yaegashi made a wry face and replied as he bent and snapped the leash onto Kishiru’s collar, "Who are you talking to? Me or the dog?"

"You, or course," she laughed.

"I think you would be better off talking to the dog, since he’s the one driving," Yaegashi grumbled his voice jerking to an end as Kishiru darted forward, towards the elevator, almost yanking Yaegashi’s arm from its socket.

Yaegashi turned and looked back over his shoulder, grinning sheepishly at his wife. Kome returned his smile and he raised his hand in a farewell salute as the dog finally came to a stop, sitting on his haunches, his tail thumping enthusiastically against the ground as he waited for the doors to the elevator to open.

"Be back as soon, hopefully," Yaegashi called.

Kome nodded and watched Yaegashi get dragged into the elevator, her smile widening affectionately when she heard his voice raised in squeaky protest as Kishiru moved restlessly around the elevator, entangling Yaegashi with the leash before the elevator doors closed on them, cutting off his words.

He would make such a great father.

The words bubbled up through her thoughts before she realized it and her smile faded. Pushing the unwanted thought away, Kome turned and entered the apartment, closing the door behind her.

As she moved further into the room, she glanced down at the sleeping face of Noa and let her hand trail down the silky softness of his dark hair. She kicked her shoes off and quietly carried the baby to the bedroom, switching the lights on as she went, her thoughts completely focused on the baby. Carefully laying him in the center of the bed, she surrounded him with pillows to protect him and then sat back to watch him sleep.

She wasn’t aware of how long she had been sitting there until she heard Yaegashi come back into the apartment and she looked at her watch. He’d been gone for forty-five minutes, she realized with a start and wondered what he had been doing. As she pondered what could have kept him so long, she heard him start talking to Kishiru. She couldn’t tell what he was saying, but his voice sounded exasperated and it piqued her curiosity even further.

A few minutes later, he came through the bedroom door and stopped short his eyes settling on Kome, not missing the fact that she was curled up next to Noa.

Kome’s jaw came unhinged, her mouth falling open as he stood there, and she stared at his disheveled appearance. Slowly she got off the bed and approached him, her stunned blue eyes moving from the grass stains on the shredded knees of his slacks, to the ripped sleeve of his shirt, before climbing upwards to his face, where she noted the long streak of dirt down one cheek and the abrasion on his chin before finally reaching his dark hair which had little bits and pieces of dead leaves stuck in it.

"What happened to you?" she asked faintly with barely a trace of a laugh in her voice as she started to pick at the dead leaves.

"What does it look like?" Yaegashi asked her irritably, pushing her hand away and unbuttoning his shirt as he moved further into the room. "Kishiru decided that I made a good plow," he told her in acrid tones as he tossed his shirt in the wastebasket and began to remove his pants, noting with regret that they were beyond repair as well – and they had been one of his favorite pair too. "I must have churned up a good acre of dirt before your dog decided that he was tired of chasing the little brown bunny he had spotted, and finally gave up." He ignored Kome’s chuckles as he gathered up a fresh changed of clothes and turned towards the bathroom clad only in his boxers now.

"Why didn’t you just let go of his leash?" Kome asked, her voice liberally laced with amusement now.

Yaegashi reached the door adjoining the bathroom to the bedroom and stopped at her words, bristling in irritation with himself for not having enough sense to do the obvious.

Feeling extremely foolish, he ignored her question, turning instead to throw a frown over his shoulder at her, saying moodily, "That’s the last time I walk him, Kome. He won’t listen to me, and I refuse to eat any more grass because of his enthusiastic romps."

With as much dignity as he could muster standing there in his underwear, he exited the room. He had barely made into the bathroom when he heard Kome burst into gales of laughter and felt a small answering smile crease his face as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He knew he looked silly – and god knew he felt silly - and he really didn’t mind walking the dog.

But what he did mind was sacrificing part of his wardrobe to do it; and Kome truly was much better at handling Kishiru than he was. Yaegashi quickly showered and dressed and then reentered the bedroom to find his wife in the same position as before, sitting vigilantly next to the sleeping baby on the bed, her eyes pinned to his small form.

Trying to ignore that niggling of unease he felt, he moved towards the bed, stepping around Kishiru who had stretched himself out at the end of the bed, an innocent look on his canine face.

Yaegashi stopped briefly and snorted at the expression, muttering to the dog, "You can’t fool me with that look. I was with you, remember?"

The dog raised his head and gave a slight whine and Yaegashi bent down and rubbed his ears before moving on until he came to standstill beside his wife, inquiring, "Are you hungry? I can make us some dinner."

Kome heaved a deep sigh.

"Isn’t he beautiful, Yoshiki?" she asked quietly, completely ignoring Yaegashi’s question about food.

Stifling a sigh, Yaegashi obediently transferred his gaze to the sleeping baby and he gave him a considering look.

"He looks a lot like Kusanagi to me," Yaegashi said and was surprised at how ruffled Kome got at his observation.

"He does NOT look like that pesky Plant Boy!" she replied heatedly, finally turning her head to shoot a frown up at her husband before looking down once more at Noa. "Noa is a little angel and there is nothing angelic about Mamoru Kusanagi!" she insisted firmly, her tone daring him to argue with her.

"If you say so," Yaegashi replied noncommittally, privately thinking the same thoughts as before, "but how do you know that Noa is an angel when you’ve been with him for less than a day?"

Kome took her time answering that one, but finally said, "I just know. A woman can tell these things, you know." And then she started to add the words that Yaegashi had been dreading ever since they had left the TAC laboratory, her voice taking on an uncharacteristic vulnerability as she began, "I just wish – "

"Kome," he interrupted quietly trying to avoid what he knew was coming.

Sitting on the bed next to her, he took her hands in his, trying to get her to look at him, but she kept her gaze, staring at Noa. There was a stony expression on her face, but Yaegashi knew better than to believe what he saw. She couldn’t hide the pain she was feeling from him. Damn, he cursed inwardly. He had known this was going to happen.

"Kome, please," he begged her, "give it time –"

Kome wrenched her hands away from him and flew up off the bed to pace to the window where she pulled back the curtains to look out into the darkness, over the shadowed branches of the barren trees below.

"It’s already been over a year now," she told him in a low tone, "how much longer am I supposed to give it? Most women would have been pregnant by now," she muttered bitterly, "but then again, I’ve never been like most women, eh Yoshiki?" her laugh held a note of self-derision and she turned her blue eyes to stare broodingly at Yaegashi who had come to stand quietly behind her. "I’m not a woman - I’m ‘the Hurricane!’ - Reliable Kome, as tough as they come – tougher than most men," her lips twisted bitterly and Yaegashi clenched his hands at his sides, determined not to interrupt her until she had finished her tirade, "Hell, I might as well be a man, considering that I’m not even feminine enough to be able to bare a child!"

She looked away from him, her shoulders slumped, and she moved away from the window into the center of the room where she stared unseeingly at the bed where the tiny infant lay.

"Are you finished?" Yaegashi asked her furiously. Startled by the anger in his voice, she turned her head sharply , her blue gaze flying back to his face to see his mouth drawn into a tight line and his eyes glinting behind the thin metal rim of his glasses. "This isn’t just about you Kome; this is about us," he seethed. "I’m sick of seeing you denigrate yourself because you can see nothing worthwhile in the woman you are. I didn’t marry you because I wanted a manly wife! I married you because I fell in love with the girl that you are, not just your physical strength but also that side of you that you hide so well, the one that is shy, that cares for others and wants to protect others. Being able to bare a child doesn’t make you more or less of a woman, Kome, and being vulnerable doesn’t make you less of one either.

"So you haven’t gotten pregnant within the last year. So what? " he told her moving towards her and putting his hands on her shoulders, his brown eyes staring into her deep blue ones, "It doesn’t mean we have to stop trying. And if it comes down to our not being able to have children – it won’t be the end of the world."

"But, Yoshiki –" she began.

"No!" he enunciated firmly, removing his hands from her shoulders and turning to stalk a few feet away before swiveling back around to look at her. "I knew that bringing this baby home was a bad idea, I knew that you should have let Momiji come and get him."

"I couldn’t have done that," she defended in outrage and then repeated her reasoning from earlier, "She’s been through so much already."

But Yaegashi just gave her a hard look from behind his glasses and replied, "That’s not why you insisted on bringing him here. Momiji is a lot stronger than that, and you know it. She has to be because she’s the Kushinada, and if you had called her and told her that she needed to come and take the baby, then you know she would have been more than willing to do so. The reason that you didn’t call her is because you didn’t want to," he accused.

There was a moment of silence before Kome replied.

"Okay, I admit it," she flared at him and threw her arms out in a wild gesture, "are you happy now? I admit that I want to have a baby more than anything! I would even give up the Self-Defense Force and the TAC for it! Is that what you wanted to hear me say?"

Her voice had risen to a shriek and she was close to breaking down.

Yaegashi walked back over to her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her face against the warmth of his neck, and didn’t say anything for a long moment. Kome closed her eyes and wound her arms around Yaegashi’s chest, pressing close to him, drinking in the acceptance that she always found within his arms.

"Bringing him home isn’t going to make him yours," Yaegashi told her quietly, smoothing his hand down the flame red length of her hair. "All it does is serve to remind you of what you so desperately want. Just like I knew it would."

Kome didn’t answer but just squeezed him tighter.

"Give it time," he whispered against her hair, "it will happen. You just have to be patient."

After a moment, Kome nodded and finally pulled away from him, and an unexpected chill ran up her spine as the temperature seemed to rapidly drop. Suddenly, Kishiru, normally about as threatening as a lamp shade, shot up from his dormant position, his hackles raised and his fangs bared in a menacing way that neither of them had ever seen before.

Both Kome and Yaegashi watched his perplexing behavior as he emitted a feral growl, looking towards the window behind Kome, and they turned to glance out the darkened panes. Moving closer to the window, the frigid temperature began to increase and Kome thought the she could even see her breath forming a faint cloud in front of her face, which was impossible, of course.

"What is it boy?" Kome asked, stepping closer to the window, her skin crawling and an irrational fear welling up inside her.

It felt like someone had just walked over her grave, she mused, and tried to brush away the uncomfortable feeling. Crossing her arms over her breasts against the frigid coldness, she narrowed her eyes and looked through the darkness, but still was unable to see anything.

Yaegashi came up behind her and peered over her shoulder, murmuring, "What does he see? Do you think it’s another Tengugaki?"

Kome shook her head and shrugged, her hands dropping to her sides as the chill passed. "I don’t know," she replied looking back at the dog, now silent, just sitting there and staring at them. "But whatever it was, it’ appears to be gone now."

So the Kushinada was going to take possession of the child, Zan Kazai mused speculatively. Momiji – this was the name of the Kushinada. Once you knew its name, it gave you power of it, came the insidious thought. The word Momiji sunk into the depths of his twisted mind and brought forth an even more twisted smile as an idea began to form and take root.

Akumakai feared the power of the Kushinada, Zan Kazai told himself. Why? Because the Arch Daemon was vulnerable to her as long as he was without the hybrid child.

So what was to stop him, Zan Kazai, from utilizing the power of her name and killing the Kushinada, thus disposing of Akumakai’s power and then taking the child himself? With Tamanasu out of the way, it would be too easy! It was the perfect plan, he thought smugly, and his smile widened at his own brilliance. His pale eyes flitted to the two humans standing at the window in front of him, staring through him without seeing him, for he was not ready to be seen as of yet.

But soon, that would change, he reflected; just as soon as the Kushinada exposed herself to him and took possession of the child, then everything would be within his grasp. With her death, he would banish Akumakai and he would rule the Underworld. And then with the power of the hybrid child, he would have unlimited access to the Over World as well. His pale eyes filled with a malevolent hunger at the thought, and he retreated even further from the window, but not so far that he would lose sight of his target. He could be patient. He could wait. He would have all that he wanted soon enough.

Kusanagi rolled over onto his side and tried to ignore the gnawing hunger in his still tight body, and the dull, burning pains that needled across his chest. He closed his eyes, and the image of Momiji’s green eyes shimmering in the darkness filled his mind, followed by the memory of her softness and the taste of her lips, and he became fully aroused within a matter of seconds. His eyes shot open and he grimaced in aggravation. Dammit! he growled to himself, his brows pulling into a harsh frown over his catlike eyes. Without turning on the light, he pushed himself off the bed and prowled over to the window with feline grace.

This was ridiculous! he scowled to himself, pushing impatiently at the stray locks of greenish black hair that lay against his forehead. He was so ensnared by her that he couldn’t even control his own body! He had become accustomed to that fact when he was around her; but hell, he railed silently, surely he should be able to control it when he wasn’t with her!?

He reached out and unlatched the window, tugging sharply against the sash to open it so that cold air wafted into the room and flowed across his fevered skin. Leaning his bare shoulder tiredly against the window frame, he closed his eyes on a weary sigh and let the air glide soothingly over the burns on his chest, even managing to relax a bit as the tightness in his groin began to lessen.

His eyes still closed, he let his mind wander, but tried to keep it from straying to the green eyes siren in the room down the hall, when a sudden memory of Susano-oh’s words surged over him and he found his breathing become erratic as chaotic emotions swirled through his chest, making his heart beat wildly.

Kusanagi opened his eyes and stared at the small sliver of the crescent moon that hung in the cloudless sky overhead.

"My gift to you," he mumbled, and then asked himself, "what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

But deep inside he already knew what it meant. He pushed away from the window and with long, quiet strides re-crossed to the bed. Stretching out onto his side once again, he continued to look towards the window, still able to feel the draft of cooling air coming from it, but not as well as before.

My gift to you. The gift of a god. To him. A man that wasn’t worthy of such a prize. Dare he accept what had been offered? God knew he wanted to. Before he could think about it further, he became aware of another presence in the room with him, and a shadow fell across the bed as the light from the hall was blocked carrying with it the smell of honeysuckle.

Momiji, he groaned silently with dread.

He rolled over to look at her, but found himself pinned, mid-roll onto his back, as she pelted with amazing agility and speed across the room, before suddenly skidding onto the bed and then bouncing across it to land hard on top of him . Kusanagi made a slight whooshing sound as all of the air was pushed from his lungs upon the impact of her body, his head jerking back when her forehead smacked into his chin with a numbing blow.

"Wh-wh-whoops!" she gasped, struggling to sit up, her body astride his as she rubbed her forehead and looked through the darkness at him in apology. "S-sorry ‘bout that. I tr-ripped – didn’t m-m-ean to land with quite such f-f-force." And then her face scrunched in irritation and she mumbled something that sounded like, "I sh-sh-should have changed."

Momiji looked down at her legs and tried to move. But they were ensnared restrictively within the shroud like folds of her robe and gown, and she found she was suffering from the same problem as earlier when she had fallen in the living room and been unable to rise, penned in place by her own clothes.

"Th-th-this just won’ work," she mumbled tiredly to herself, forgetting about Kusanagi for a moment as she tried to solve her dilemma and missing the puzzled look he shot her.

There was no sofa here to aid her in escape, so she stuck her tongue out in a concentrated grimace and began to tug and squirm, trying to pull the fabric loose from beneath her.

Kusanagi’s face registered shock and immediately stiffened beneath her, feeling, quite clearly, the effects of her gyrations against the part of him that he had taken such pains to try and subdue. Clenching his jaw, he looked up at her face as she continued to maneuver around and knew that she was completely oblivious to the state of affairs directly beneath her.

God help him, he thought, his mouth pulled into a toothy grimace as he brought his gloved hands up and clamped them around her waist to arrest her movements.

"You’re killing me," he breathed in a choked whisper and Momiji stopped tugging to look down at his shadowed face, her eyes wide.

"Hm?" she said, sitting back so that Kusanagi bit back a moan, feeling the weight of her body press invitingly against him. Momiji stifled a yawn, and not having clearly heard his words, she asked him with a sleepy look of inquiry, "wha’ was that you said?"

Kusanagi took a deep, shuddering breath and managed in a strained voice, "What are you doing here, Momiji?"

Momiji’s face lit with determination as she recalled why she had come, and, letting go of the bunched up fabric in her fist, she exposed the tube of burn ointment, holding it close to his face so he could see it through the darkness.

"I kn-knew you wouldn’t do anythin’ ‘bout your-r-chest, so I came to f-f-fix you up," she chirped brightly.

"I don’t need you to fix me up!" he all but shouted at her and watched her jump a little at the unexpected violence in his voice, a slightly hurt look on her face.

Kusanagi immediately regretted his words, but it couldn’t be helped, he thought resolutely, hanging on to his restraint by a mere thread. He had to get her up and off of him before he died from sexual frustration.

"Please get up, Momiji," he requested calmly, trying to keep the strain out of his voice.

Momiji sat quietly eyeing him in the darkness, as if she was trying to discern the expression on his face. Then after a long minute she finally responded, but it wasn’t the response that Kusanagi had been hoping for.

"I’ll’l get up if y-y-ou’ll stop acting like s-such a beast and lemme help you," she bargained quietly.

Kusanagi was about to respond with a resounding ‘Hell, NO!" when her attention abruptly shifted away from him. Apparently she was still concerned with how confined she felt and she began squirming again, yanking at her gown and robe at the knees and grinding her body against his inflamed groin. Kusanagi’s fingers tightened against her hips but he was unable to hold her completely still.

"Gggggg…" a gurgling sound choked out between gritted teeth. His eyes closed, he resisted with all his strength the urge to pull her tighter against him, trying to deny the need to feel the cleft of her body against his rigid hardness. "Okay!’ he panted, "okay, Momiji!" h

Momiji smiled in surprised pleasure at his capitulation, immediately ceasing her struggles to look at his face, noticing for the first time, the tiny beads of sweat the clung to Kusanagi’s forehead, despite the chill of the room.

"I’ll let you ‘fix me up’- I promise -," he assured her, still huffing a little, "but first….just let me…sit up…okay?"

"Are you f-f-feeling all r-r-ight?" Momiji asked him in a sleepy voice, trying to lean forward and feel his head, a bolt of alarm shooting through her when Kusanagi moaned as she did so. "You’r-r-e not r-r-running a fever, again, ar-r-e you?"

"God! Please stop!" he ground out, his face scrunched up in what looked like a grimace of pain and Momiji’s alarm grew.

"Oh, no!" she breathed, leaning closer to his face, "wh-wh-wha’s wrong, Sk- Sk – K’sanagi?"

She put a tentative had to his forehead and a puzzled frown creased her forehead. His brow was cool to the touch if a little damp. Momiji leaned back and her frown deepened as Kusanagi jerked reflexively with her movements. She felt his fingers tighten around her waist - another action that she interpreted as a sign of some kind of distress he was experiencing.

"Hmm," she ruminated, her sleep blurred eyes struggling to focus on him, "you don’ haf a f-f-fever. But –"

"If you will just GET OFF OF ME!" he growled none too pleasantly, his cat-like eyes popping open to glare at her, "I will feel MUCH BETTER!"

Momiji shot him a look of reproach and said repressively, "Well you don’ haf to be s-s-so cr-r-rabby ‘bout it!"

She made to rise, but didn’t get very far before she stopped and then subsided against him, causing him to shudder once more.

After the shockwave passed, Kusanagi gave her a look that seethed with frustration, and hissed between gritted teeth, "What are you waiting for?"

Momiji pointed to her waist and said in a whuffly, prosaic way, "I’m stuck. I can’t get up ‘til you let go, Sk – K’sanagi."

"Oh," he replied stupidly.

Kusanagi’s gaze shifted to his fingers, which were cemented into place, and he found that he had a difficult time persuading them to release her. It seemed that they were firmly convinced that he was enjoying being tortured by Momiji’s unwitting movements and were more than happy to let it continue – maybe even escalate; something that his brain refused to let happen.

After a brief internal struggle, mind overcame matter and he managed to rip his fingers away, quickly rolling from beneath her and sprinting over to the window to feel the blast of frigid air before Momiji had managed to emerge from her own battle, finally shedding her robe to rid herself of part of her problem.

After a few moments, she followed him, coming up behind him, shivering as the winter’s night air seeped through the thin cotton of her nightgown. Perhaps she should have left her robe on, she thought hazily as her teeth clacked together, and she moved closer to Kusanagi, letting his body act as a blockade against the cold. After a few seconds, Momiji reached out and touched his shoulder with a tentative finger, but he didn’t move.

He just continued to stand there, his back to her, framed by the window, and she wondered how he could stand such extreme cold without flinching. She also wondered if being exposed to it was what had elicited his strange reactions earlier on the bed. If so, it probably wasn’t a good idea to be standing there like that, she concluded with fuzzy logic.

With that thought in mind, she moved around him and squeezed in next to him, raising her arms and grabbing the sash. Before she could pull it down, Kusanagi reached out, his hands wrapping around her wrists to stop her.

"What are you doing?" he quietly demanded against her ear and Momiji shivered, unsure if it was from the cold air rushing unimpeded against her body or the heat of Kusanagi’s breath against her neck.

"I’m goin’ to close th-th-the window," Momiji mumbled.

Another shiver ran up her spine when Kusanagi pulled on her wrists, causing her to lose her grip, and he slowly brought her arms closer to her body, his arms acting as a cage, encircling her. Momiji felt a dizzying wave of pleasure begin to flow over her and she would have leaned back against him but he suddenly let her go and stepped away.

"If you’re cold, then move away from the window, but I want it left open," he told her in an expressionless voice, moving across the room in lithe strides to switch the light on.

Momiji narrowed her tired eyes against the sudden brightness and she slowly moved away from the window, being careful to keep herself from staggering.

Kusanagi watched her approach, and knew from her movements that she still couldn’t feel her feet. A flicker of amusement flitted across his face at that realization and abruptly vanished as his eyes flitted downwards across her body towards her feet, never making it to their destination.

Where in the hell was her flannel thingy? he bellowed in shock to himself.

He balled his hands into fists and tried to keep his chin from hitting the floor as she moved towards him. It might not be flannel, his mind tried to reassure him, but it was the next, best thing, logically pointing out to him that it was long and voluminous and it covered her from the neck all the way down to her toes.

But no matter how sound the logic of his brain’s reasoning might be, the rest of him didn’t buy it, for his body was busy responding to what the sheerness of the ‘next best thing’ revealed that flannel did not as his eyes were able to clearly make out the curves of her body, reaffirming the fact that Momiji’s body was no longer that of a child but of a woman – a fact that he had known for some time, but one that had never been made as blatantly obvious as it was now.

He should have left the light off, he silently lamented, his eyes devouring the sight of the rounded curves of her breasts before moving down to her tiny waist and then to the flare of her hips before finally swinging upwards again, coming to rest on her chest. Kusanagi broke out in a sweat and struggled to breath evenly as Momiji slowly came ever nearer, and he glimpsed the faint blush of pink where the swell of her breasts brushed against the sheer, white fabric. He was in serious trouble, he thought.

With monumental effort, he forced his staggered gaze back to Momiji’s face as she finally came to a stop in front of him, staring at him from sleepy, innocent eyes. And he wondered how she could be so oblivious to the effect she was having on him.

"It w’would probably be better on th’bed," she told him and Kusanagi blinked at her words, not quite following her train of thought, a fact which wasn’t helped by the fact that his gaze kept trying to slide to her breasts.

‘I – I –" he stammered unintelligibly before finally saying, "what the heck are you talking about?"

Momiji held up the tube of burn ointment.

"If I yam going to f-fi-fix you, it would probly be more c-c-comfortable on th-bed." Sh replied, omitting the fact that, because she was suddenly feeling so tired and dizzy, she might topple over if she had to stand there much longer.

Without waiting for him to respond she swiveled around, swaying precariously, but managing to maintain her balance without any assistance and trod carefully to the bed where she promptly sat down, a look of relief on her face. Then trying to get comfortable, she fiddled with the long row of buttons that ran the length of her nightgown, pulling along the sides of them to free the copious amounts of fabric tucked beneath her legs before she once again transferred her gaze to Kusanagi.

He remained frozen in the spot where she left him until she shot him an expectant look.

"C’mon," she demanded, "you promised, Sk… K'sanagi."

Kusanagi finally began moving forward on leaded feet, his gaze sweeping from her to her discarded robe, desperate to find something to help him resist temptation.

"I thought you were cold?" he asked her, hoping that perhaps he could get her to put the robe back on.

"When?" she asked, her sleepy brain unable to think beyond the moment.

"Over by the window," he replied, now standing directly in front of her, looking down at her, but making no move to sit beside her on the bed.

"No," she replied after a moment, her gaze swinging to the still open window before coming back to him. "I was a li’l worried that you might be getting s-s-sick."

"But you were shivering," he pursued with dogged determination, and watched mystified at the color that suddenly flooded her cheeks as her gaze slid shyly away from him.

"Well, that was jus’ b’cause, um," Momiji hedged, looking at her toes peeking out from beneath the hem of her nightgown and remembering the feel of his arms around her, "- I might have been a li’l cold over there, but I’m f-f-fine now. I jus’ don’ want you to get sick. You may think you in-in-invisible, but I know that you’re not."

Kusanagi’s brows shot up, momentarily diverted by what she said. "Invisible?" he repeated.

"In-in-invisible?" she echoed in a puzzled way, her gaze pivoting from her toes back to his face. "What are you talking ‘bout?"

"You just said that I thought I was invisible," he repeated again and watched her shake her head insistently.

"No. Tha’s not what I said," she disputed with Momiji-like certainty, "I said that you think th-th-that you’re in-in-invis – invis- " she stopped in frustration unable to get her mouth to work the way that she wanted it to and then settled for, "you th-think that you can’t be beaten, that l-l-life’s rules don’ apply to you, but I kn-kn-know diffriendly, Mr. Sk – Sk- K’sanagi. You war just a human bean."

"A human bean," Kusanagi echoed again, and then added with a bit of a dry not, :yes, I guess you could call me a human bean."

"Wha?," Momiji looked at the wry twist of his lips in confusion, unable to ascertain what he found so amusing. She shook it off, though, refusing to be sidetracked and said, "Ne’er mind," and patted the side of the bed next to her, "come siddown."

But Kusanagi balked, his gaze flickering from her face to her nightgown and back again. "I don’t think that’s such a good idea," he told her and she immediately pokered up.

Her mouth tightened into a mutinous line and the bridge of her nose wrinkled as her chestnut brows drew together over her sleepy eyes and she complained in an accusing voice, "You promised! A promise isa promise, Sk – K’sanagi. Now come siddown!"

She kept a baleful eye on him until he finally capitulated against his better judgment. But still trying to maintain his restraint, he positioned himself so that there was a good bit of distance separating them and he kept his eyes straight ahead, to keep them from straying to the sheer bodice of her nightgown.

The minute he was situated Momiji immediately slid over so that she was jammed up against his side and he silently groaned as she leaned forward, putting one hand on his thigh close to his groin for support, her breasts brushing against his arm as she tried to apply the ointment to his scalded chest.

"Would you please hurry," he urged in a strained voice and was rewarded with an exasperated sigh from her.

"Would you quit r-r-rushing me!" she demanded tiredly, leaning back and frowning at his profile. "I can’t d-d-do a good job if you war rushing me!"

Kusanagi didn’t say anything. He just gritted his teeth as she leaned forward again and made another effort to apply the ointment. After a few seconds of prolonged silence in which she continued to press against him, trying to reach the burns and Kusanagi sat, silently suffering all too aware of her, she finally sat back.

"This isn’ working. You’re going to have to t-t-turn around so I can r-r-reach you," she informed him and put her hand out giving his arm a tug.

Kusanagi turned automatically, just wanting to get it over with, bringing one leg up on the bed and crossing it in front of his body as Momiji critically examined his chest.

Her eyes moved over him, as she squeezed the little tube so that the white ointment slid out in a blob onto her finger. There were several burns that she had already managed to attend to, but the biggest one, which was to the left of the circle of mitamas in the center of his chest, still needed attention. Reaching up, she gently applied the ointment, her fingers moving in a slow, circular motion so as not to irritate the already inflamed skin. As she continued to spread the soothing ointment across his skin, her eyes slid to the bright blue mitamas, and without realizing it, her fingers slid away from the burn to touch the bottom most mitama, the tip of her index finger tracing around it.

"This one was mine, wasn’t it?" she asked softly, her attention completely focused on the blue seed so that Kusanagi’s silence went unnoticed. Using her thumb she rubbed it slowly over the smooth surface and a soft smile curved her lips, pleased with the notion that he carried a small part of her with him always. Momiji felt strong fingers wrap around her wrist, hindering her movement and Kusanagi’s unexpected reaction caused her green gaze to shift to his face.

"Don’t," he said heavily, a look of aversion on his face, and Momiji knew it was because he hated them.

With her free hand, Momiji touched his that held her other hand captive, her gaze dropping to their combined hands, focusing on the black leather that encased his hand, and she asked, "Why do you w-w-wear these all the time, K’sanagi?"

He didn’t answer, and Momiji hadn’t really expected him to. She let the fingers of her free hand glide over the smooth black leather, until she reached his wrist and then she wrapped her fingers beneath the edge, lifting it away from the bronze of his skin. Kusanagi’s other hand immediately shot up and captured hers, and Momiji’s sleepy gaze again returned to his face, and she saw the wariness in his expression.

"You w-w-wear them so you w-won’t have to see them, don’t you?" she prodded.

"It doesn’t matter why I wear them," he responded diffidently.

"Take them off," she whispered to him, moving a little closer to him.

"What?" he asked, surprised at her request registering in his cat-like eyes.

"Please," she entreated sliding her hands free from his grasp and pulling at the leather of one of his gloves, "I want you to t-t-take them off."

Amazingly and despite her inebriated state, she managed to remove one before he could stop her.

"Why? Why do you want me to take them off?" he demanded in a strained voice, unable to summon up the will to stop her from removing the second one.

Momiji’s didn’t saying anything as she dropped the gloves to the bed, letting her sleep-laden gaze wander with fascination over his exposed hands. With the tips of fingers she slid her hands down the long lengths of his fingers, suddenly noticing, how strong and graceful his hands were. He had the hands of a pianist, she mused dreamily, and then she took one of them and turned it so that the palm was facing upwards, letting her index finger lightly trace the lines she found there.

"You have such s-s-strong hands," she told him before she turned it back over and looked at the back, her fingers feathering down its length while her thumbs brushed softly against the blue mitama. "And you sh-sh-shouldn’t be ashamed of these," she whispered, letting her hands glide up his wrist before she added, "they give you the power to protect. Wh-where’s the shame in th-th-that?"

Kusanagi didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He found Momiji’s simple actions feeding the part of his soul that hungered for acceptance, the part that was vulnerable to her special warmth and kindness, and so he stared at her, helpless to pull away.

Momiji returned her sleepy green eyes to his cat-like ones and she guided his unresisting hand to her face, resting his bare palm against her cheek. Her eyes slid closed in contentment and a small sigh escaped from her.

"S-S-Susano-oh told me that you war my destiny, you know… I keep hoping he’s r-r-right," she whispered sleepily as if in a dream, unaware that she had uttered the words aloud.

"How would he know?" he muttered doubtfully, making a last ditch effort to resist her.

"Well he is a god," she replied, a sweet smile curving her lips. Suddenly feeling beyond tired, Momiji opened her eyes with great effort, the room taking on a hazy quality around her, and everything slipped away from her senses except the feel of his warm hand against her face. Her eyes drifted half-closed in contentment and she rubbed her cheek against his palm.

The feeling faded somewhat when she looked up and saw the look of intense struggle and pain in Kusanagi’s eyes. Giving him a searching look, she forced her eyes all the way open, raising her hand to his face, and brushing the tips of her fingers softly along his cheek. She wanted to comfort him, but knew that she could not offer him the solution that he craved. She could not make his blood run red. So instead she offered him the only thing she had, and hoped that it would be enough.

"Th-th-they don’t matter to me. They never have," she told fiercely and he knew she was talking about his mitamas. "N-n-nothing matters to me, except you." Her fingers dropped tiredly away from his face and she closed her eyes and whispered softly, "I love you, Kusanagi."

Kusanagi felt something give way in the middle of his chest at her words, and every ounce of his resistance crumbled. Leaning forward, he gently brushed his lips against hers, his hand sliding from her cheek to lace through the silky chestnut strands of her hair, enjoying the feel of it without the barrier of his gloves.

Momiji’s felt her heart lurch in her chest as Kusanagi’s lips moved across hers, first gently, then with increasing pressure, and she opened her mouth when she felt his tongue touch her lips. Momiji felt her breath catch in her chest and her senses began to swim dizzily as Kusanagi wrapped his arms around her, dragging her close to his bare chest before rolling her over so that she lay beneath him on the bed without breaking their embrace.

Trapped within a dreamlike haze Momiji surrendered herself to the swirling vortex of sensation rising within her, her fingers fluttering restively across the smoothness of Kusanagi’s chest and shoulders as his lips left hers, trailing down her cheek and neck before continuing to move lower. Momiji bit her lip and moaned as she felt his mouth close over her breast through the thinness of the fabric of her gown. His tongue moved in lazy circles, causing her to arch against him as a liquid heat began to flow through her veins.

Kusanagi continued to nuzzle her and she was almost unaware that he had moved to slide the buttons of her nightgown free, until he had finished and pushed it open, exposing the length of her body to the cool night air seeping through the open window. Before she could become chilled, though, he shifted, so that she was blanketed by his warmth as he moved his body on top of hers. His lips trailed along the column of her neck and he gently cupped her naked breasts in the palms of his hands, using his thumbs to brush against the pink hardening tips, and she shivered in response.

"Are you cold," he whispered moving his lips against her neck, and his breath sent another shiver along her spine.

"N-n-no," Momiji moaned, sliding her hands restlessly down the smooth skin of his back and across the black fabric of his shorts, her fingers tracing the outlines of what had so captivated her earlier in the kitchen.

Her shy exploration fueling his own hunger, Kusanagi reclaimed her lips in a deep kiss and he let his hands drift lower, sliding across the flat of her stomach until he reached the flare of her hips and the silk of her panties. Hooking his fingers in the waistband, he slowly slid them downwards, letting the palms of his hands trail along the silken softness of her thighs and her calves until the panties were all the way off, and then he discarded them carelessly in the floor.

Settling himself against her once again, he reached down and began to stroke her, his fingers sliding against her, creating a strange tension deep inside her. Momiji moaned into his mouth and moved restlessly against his hand as the sensation grew, her fingers pressing against his buttocks as she arched her back against him in an instinctive gesture.

Sensing that she was on the edge of release, Kusanagi pulled back, getting ready to remove his black shorts when the unthinkable happened and his eyes shot open in fury and disbelief.

The phone rang.

Kusanagi began to swear loud and long, knowing that he couldn’t ignore it. It could be about the Tengugaki, after all. He raised his head and looked helplessly into Momiji’s sleepy eyes. She slowly dropped her hands away from him and when he pulled away from her, she rolled over onto her side, shyly pulling her gown together to hide her nakedness. Without a word, Kusanagi rolled off the bed and snatched up the phone, ready to tear into whomever was on the other end.

His snarled hello was greeted by silence and then a hesitant voice said, "Kusanagi?"

Kusanagi stiffened, his body quiveringin shock as recognition rocketed through him.

"Midori?" he breathed, his anger dissolving into surprise.

"Oh, god," she said, sounding wretched, "I – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called –"

"No! Wait! Where are you?" he cried, but it was too late; she had already hung up. "Dammit!" he growled in frustration, slamming the phone down.

He turned back to the bed where Momiji lay, and stiffened in disbelief once again, forgetting about Midori in the wake of a more immediate problem.

Momiji was fast asleep.

His mouth hanging open, Kusanagi moved to the side of the bed and stared down at her, his frustration reaching new heights.

Perhaps she wasn’t really asleep, he thought desperately to himself and put out a hand to give her a gentle shake.

Nothing.

She was dead to the world.

"Dammit!" he growled again shoving his hand through his hair and looking down at her peaceful expression before sliding to her open nightgown. Crouching down and with shaking hands, he began to refasten each and every button, saying a curse for each one that he slid back into place. As he finished, he dropped a light kiss against her cheek and pulled the covers over her. Standing straight once again, he found his eyes drawn to the flimsy white fabric of her discarded panties lying in the floor next to him and he scowled.

They were going to have to stay there, for there was NO WAY IN HELL that he was going to put himself through the torture of trying to put them on her. Having made that decision, he turned and stalked around to the other side of the bed, seething with pent up frustration as he climbed onto the mattress next to her, his back to her, facing the window.

Kusanagi closed his eyes, and despite his frustration, he felt a sense of calm invade him as he realized what tonight had meant.

The words echoed through him and the feeling of peace increased. Kusanagi smiled to himself, for he had finally made his decision, and it was one that he could happily live with. He would accept the Storm god’s gift whether he was worthy or not, knowing what a precious and wondrous gift Momiji’s love was and knowing too that he would love her in return for the rest of his life.