Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Feeling completely exasperated, Kusanagi landed among the cover of thick trees along the green banks of the Isuzu River and shoved an impatient hand through his greenish black hair, not quite sure what he should do next. Quietly moving forward, he lifted a hand and brushed past the dense, low hanging branches of the cypress trees, and as he walked, the tails of his black coat swirled around his pant legs and the soles of his shoes sank into the softness of the dark, fertile soil. His long strides carried him towards the river and as he approached the water’s edge, he stooped to pick up a worn-looking, flat rock that caught his eyes. His fingers curled around the cold smoothness of it, and he lifted his gaze to stare out over the serene stillness of the dark green waters, a brooding and somewhat puzzled expression knitting his brows together.

Absently, he rubbed his thumb along the unblemished surface of the stone, and then turned, a solitary figure among the green, to begin walking between the line of cypress trees and along the water’s edge. It was so quiet here, he reflected, and he titled his head and listened to the stillness of the natural beauty around him. Kusanagi could find no peace in it though, for his thoughts acted as a tense, uneasy current that kept him from enjoying the tranquility surrounding him.

He knew, without a doubt, that an Aragami had been here. He had felt its energy as he had approached Ise, and he had been almost certain who he would find when he arrived here. He had even been mentally preparing himself for that battle as he’d made his approach. But then, the energy pattern had dissipated. And he knew that it was no coincidence. The Aragami had sensed him coming and had chosen to retreat – something that Kusanagi would’ve never expected the powerful Orochi or the prideful Murakumo to do - And now Kusanagi was left to grapple with the ramifications of such an uncharacteristic action, making him question the validity of whom he thought the Aragami really was.

Dissatisfied with the conclusions he was drawing, he allowed his feet to bring him to a halt and he turned towards the river, trying to force himself to relax. Turning his pensive cat-like eyes towards the water, he watched the small ripples breaking along the glassy surface as a small breeze glided across it, and he let his attention drift away from his dilemma for a moment, his fingers tightening around the stone still clutched in his hand. He lifted his arm and shifted the weight of the stone, now warmed by the heat of his touch, so that it was balanced against the natural curve of his long fingers. With a slight cock of his head, his eyes flickered absently along the curve of the riverbed, until he picked a spot farther up from where he was. And then, with little effort and an expert flick, he sent the stone skipping across the water, three, four then a fifth time before, with a final plopping noise, it sank below the dark green surface and out of sight in almost the exact spot he had anticipated it would.

Kusanagi grunted his satisfaction; a feeling that was extremely short-lived.

What a pity that his calculations concerning the Aragami hadn’t been as precise, he told himself with an annoyed frown. Shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets, he continued to stand, watching the ripples where his stone had landed fan out in an ever, widening circle, his thoughts focusing once more on his elusive quarry.

If the Aragami he was looking for had been Murakumo or Orochi, Kusanagi ruminated darkly, then he would eventually reveal himself; just as soon as the black bastard put into motion whatever plans he had made. But that was if Kusanagi had been correct in the first place; which, unfortunately, he had no way of knowing at this current point in time. Again, the question that had plagued him since he had realized that the Aragami had disappeared resurfaced: if it had been Murakumo or Orochi, then why in god’s name would he have run?

And because Kusanagi could think of no reason that explained it satisfactorily, he couldn’t be sure who the Aragami had really been. The maddening circle of his thoughts only caused his frown to deepen, and he turned away from the river in disgust, prowling back towards the line of trees.

He could try to follow, he supposed, try and ferret out a scent. But he really had no idea in which direction to start looking, with the trail as cold as it was. Brushing through the prickly cypress branches once again, he pushed deeper into the trees and away from the river. He decided that he would make a short search of the area anyway, not wishing his entire trip to be a wasted effort, and attempting all the while to resign himself to the fact that even if he did scout the area, he was likely to find nothing.

Such a disheartening conclusion left him feeling more than a little unsettled, and he found he was having a hard time dealing with that fact. – The possibility that Orochi was running around unchecked made his stomach churn; and although it wasn’t exactly fear he felt, it came pretty damn close to it, he thought ironically. If it were just Orochi, perhaps he wouldn’t feel this way, for he had never been afraid of Orochi in the past. But with the Tengugaki already a threat to humanity, Kusanagi sure as hell didn’t need the added pressure of wondering if and when the eight headed demi-god was going to pop up and try to exterminate them all as well.

But what if it wasn’t Orochi he had sensed? he asked himself.

And Kusanagi would give almost anything to know for certain.

Perhaps the iwatto, where the attack had taken place, would be the best place to start searching, he logically concluded. There at least, he might be able to unearth some clues that would suggest that the fleeing Aragami wasn’t Orochi, which, unsurprisingly, he found himself hoping was the case. But even if he did find evidence there to support the existence of a different Aragami at the iwatto, some demented little part of his brain contrarily pointed out, it would still be almost impossible for him to put aside the memory of the presence he had felt summon him last night. It had just seemed too familiar.

And then a terrible thought occurred to him.

What if there was more than one Aragami?

What if Noa’s birth had signaled the awakening of…

What the hell was he doing? Kusanagi scowled, abruptly cutting off the flow of his thoughts, irritated at the sudden turn they had taken. If he kept going like this, he told himself acerbically, he would have a whole Aragami army resurrected in his mind before he knew anything for sure. With a derisive snort, he pushed his deductions aside and took off, heading for the iwatto. Action was needed now. Anything he found, he could think about later.

Brushing the stray strands of short brown hair away from her cheek, Midori bit her lip and hesitated at the opening to the iwatto. She listened carefully but could hear nothing. And instead of being comforted by this, she found it did nothing to allay her uneasiness. For it somehow seemed unnatural not to hear anything at all. Her initial instinct was to turn around and go back to her car, but she ignored such timorousness, telling herself that she was stronger than that. Instead, she took a deep breath and plunged into the inner dimness and quickly trotted down the well-worn stone steps.

Her shoes made a deafening clicking noise against the stillness and the bottom of her stomach tightened with each step she took. If there was someone or something here besides herself, it was surely aware of her presence now, she thought with a grimace. She shouldn’t have come here, the craven voice in the back of her mind silently lamented. As if trying to persuade her to turn around and leave, it conjured up images of what awaited her at the bottom of the steps: slimy, mottled skin, red-slitted eyes and long fangs, like those of the creature that had been here the day she had found Murakumo flashed vividly in front of her eyes. Just remembering it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Midori tried to dismiss the images, forcefully arguing that that creature was dead – Murakumo had killed it. But the voice that had conjured them was not as easily banished, slyly reminding her that Murakumo had been attacked by another one of those creatures just yesterday. So that meant that there could be another one here as well...

Gritting her teeth, Midori mercilessly suppressed her imagination. She had had to come here, she reminded herself firmly. She had dropped her satchel here that day and all of her things for work were in it – namely her cell phone, her lab id’s and her office keys. And with any luck, they would still be here, and she wouldn’t have to worry about the delay of procuring new ones once she got back to Tokyo; for she planned on immediately immersing herself into work.

She only hoped doing so would help her to try and forget – Midori didn’t finish the notion, knowing that it ultimately led to the heartache revolving around the image of light grey eyes and long dark hair. As if running from her thoughts, she increased the tempo of her steps on the few remaining stairs. She wanted to get this errand over with as soon as possible and get out of here so that she could be on her way back to Tokyo and a normal life.

Hard on the heels of her resolution, she finally stepped into the main chamber of the iwatto and skidded to a halt. Her heart immediately lurched into her throat as her eyes lit on the tall, dark figure looming in the shadows on the other side of the central pool of water.

Oh, dear god! her mind screamed.

She felt her brown eyes widened in terror, and her hands reflexively flew up to cover her mouth which was open. She wanted to scream, but found it impossible to draw air into her lungs or to move for that matter, for the rapidly rising column of fear that was coursing through her chest and responsible for her lack of air, was spiraling outward, turning her legs to stone.

"Midori!?" A puzzled voice echoed in the silence, and then, " - My god, it is you!"

It took several seconds for her to realize that she was being addressed and when she recognized Kusanagi’s voice, her body sagged in relief and she drew in a gasp of air as she was able to breathe again.

"Where have you been!?" Kusanagi demanded and Midori watched as he flitted across the pool in the way that she had only seen him do. As he closed the distance separating them, she could see the concern etched across his features. "Everyone has been so worried about you – " he stopped abruptly, his eyes sliding over the chalky color of her face and added, "are you all right?"

"Oh yes," Midori assured him with a ghost of a smile, "I just didn’t expect anyone to be here, that’s all."

Kusanagi gave her a funny look and then looked around the empty cavern, "What did you come back here for?" he finally asked.

She shot a startled look at him, one, he noted that was tinged with a trace of guilty panic and alarms began to go off in his head.

"I – I," Midori stammered, feeling as if Kusanagi somehow knew about Murakumo.

But that was impossible! she assured herself, struggling to recover her composure.

Closing her mouth, she took a long swallow and forcibly reminded herself that it was only natural for Kusanagi to have known that she had been here. After all, Ms. Matsudaira had asked her to come here and collect samples. And once she had gone missing, the rest of the team would have known that this was the last place she was supposed to have been.

"I came back to get my things," she finally managed in a somewhat normal tone, her eyes dropping away from his when she realized that he was giving her a hard stare.

To escape his probing gaze, she moved away from him on the pretext of looking around for her satchel, and then said over her shoulder by way of explanation, "When I came here to get the rock samples, there was this creature – "

"Tengugaki," Kusanagi inserted, and Midori immediately abandoned all pretense of searching to swing back around to look at him instead.

"You know what they’re called?" she asked earnestly, walking back towards him when he just continued to study her and failed to add anything further. "What are they? Where do they come from? Are there many more of them?" she fired at him, and then muttered, "I’ve never seen anything like it. It had a mitama but it wasn’t like you or –"

She stopped suddenly and could have bitten her tongue out, for she had been just about to speak Murakumo’s name aloud. After a quick look at Kusanagi’s taut expression, she might as well have finished her sentence for he knew that she was hiding something.

"Like me and who else, Midori?" Kusanagi wanted to know, "Orochi? Murakumo? Who else did you see the day that you came here?" Midori didn’t say anything, but Kusanagi could see her getting ready to deny what she knew, so he added tensely, "I know you saw something - Kome and Ryoko found traces of green blood in here - signs of another Aragami - so there’s no use denying that you didn’t see it!"

"But I didn’t! I don’t know who Orochi is or who M-murakumo is either!" Midori contradicted, lying through her teeth and swiftly trying to come up with a way to extricate herself from a situation that was fast becoming too complicated for her liking. "All I saw was that – Tengugaki - creature, " she told him, "that was it! It leapt out at me from nowhere," she gesticulated wildly to demonstrate. " - and then I hit it with my hammer and then, and then… I don’t know how, but I managed to scramble up the stairs and back to my car. It really shook me up, so I spent a couple of days at my brother’s house, trying to pull myself together," she improvised looking away again. "If the green blood wasn’t from the Tengugaki, then maybe this Orochi or the other Aragami that your talking about came after I left."

Finished with her explanation, she shot a look at Kusanagi from beneath her lashes and prayed that it would be enough to satisfy him. She held her breath as he continued to stare dubiously at her for a moment longer before he turned away, shoving his hands into the pockets of his long, black coat.

Silently seething at her lies, he moved away from her, because he was afraid if he didn’t, friend or not, he was likely to throttle her. Why was she hiding the truth from him? He thought, and his irritation only grew. Perhaps if he answered her questions, she might open up a little and tell him what she had seen here.

So in a voice devoid of all expression he said, "To answer your questions, concerning the Tengugaki – they are parasitic creatures made from silicates – malevolent entities that have somehow learned to manipulate the earth into a sort of humanoid form. They use the black mitamas that you noticed to fuel their bodies – storing human souls in the mitama and drawing upon that energy when they need it."

Kusanagi momentarily lapsed into silence as he stalked over to the edge of the pool and looked down into the water, remembering the sound of wailing that had risen from Tamanasu when he had split open the Tengugaki’s mitama. It wasn’t a sound he would soon forget, if ever; like the wail of a thousand lost souls...

Pulling himself from the darkness of his remembrances, he looked speculatively over his shoulder at Midori who stood nervously, her arms crossed self-consciously in front of her breasts, waiting for him to continue. His eyes flickered down to the bandage wound around her hand and his lips twisted in exasperation. Asking her about that would probably prove as pointless as asking her about what had happened to her here had been. What was she hiding? Again the urge to shake the information out of her gripped him and clenched his hands in his pockets. To take his mind off of it, he turned to look back down into the water and finished telling her about the Tengugaki

"At this point the TAC doesn’t really know how many there are, but my guess is their numbers are endless. Their mission, it seems, is to subjugate the human race – and, " he added as an afterthought, "I suspect, the Aragami race as well. Right now, their only apparent weakness lies in their inability to effectively maintain their energy source. But that may all change if they’re able to get their hands on what they’re after."

"And what are they after?" Midori asked.

"A hybrid child – half Aragami, half human – " he broke off as he heard a noise from behind him and turned to see Midori staring at him in an odd, intent sort of fashion.

"A – a hybrid child?" she echoed in a tight voice, trying to hide the frisson of surprised alarm that his words had set off. "I didn’t think that such a thing existed – except for you. But you’re not really a hybrid are you?"

Kusanagi’s lips curved into a slightly bitter smile. "Perhaps at this point in my life I might loosely be considered one. But not initially - initially I was just another normal human - until Orochi found me, that is."

"So if it isn’t you they’re after, then who?" Midori asked, wanting him to tell her more about the hybrid child, trying to discover if it could be Murakumo’s son that Kusanagi was talking about.

"An infant – a male child by the name of Noa," Kusanagi told her, "his mother passed away giving birth to him. She was human so that would make his father an – " Kusanagi trailed off, his eyes fastened to Midori as he watched her try and then fail to suppress the overwhelming surge of restless anxiety that seized her at hearing Kusanagi’s words.

Her face tense and white, Midori found that she couldn’t stand still, and she felt her fingers her gripping her arms so tightly that her nails were digging into her own skin.

"Are – are you all right?" Kusanagi asked taking a step towards her and then stopping when she started backing towards the entrance, her gaze sliding away from him.

"I’m fine," she told him in an unnaturally bright voice, "but it’s getting late and I really need to be getting back to Tokyo," she told him, all thoughts of retrieving her satchel completely gone. "Tell Momiji," she began abruptly changing the subject, and then hesitating as she had trouble focusing her thoughts, "Tell Momiji to call me."

"Wait! Midori!" Kusanagi called after her, but it was too late.

She had already turned and fled up the stone steps, the echoes of her footfalls betraying her haste to escape. With a growl of frustration, Kusanagi listened to the sound fade, a scowl on his face. It had been obvious to him from the moment he had mentioned the child that Midori had already known about Noa. She might not have known his name, he conceded, but she knew of his existence. Kusanagi was certain of it. But what he wasn’t certain of was how she knew.

With another growl, Kusanagi started up the stone steps behind her, not really bothering to try and catch her. What was the use? She wasn’t going to tell him anything anyway! This whole trip had been a complete waste of time, he thought with a snarl. He would have been better off remaining in Izumo. With Momiji. Where he could have spent his morning in a more… enjoyable fashion.

Such a thought only blackened his mood further and when he reached daylight once more, he let loose with a string of obscenities, for Midori was, indeed, completely gone. She might have eluded him for today, he grumbled with a scowl, but she was the only lead he had at the moment, and he was determined to find out what she was hiding. But it was obvious that he would have to find another way of getting the information from her, for the direct approach wasn’t going to work.

Seeing no reason to remain in Ise, Kusanagi turned away, flitting forward to spring into the air. Once he started moving, the cold air pushed against his brow and cheeks and blew the errant strands of his hair away from his face, acting as a natural balm to cool his frayed temper. Taking a deep breath of the crisp winter air, he mentally shrugged off his irritation, looking for a strategy that would make Midori to tell him what she knew. He deliberated for a few moments, and then the image of wide, green eyes and long, chestnut hair wavered in front of his face.

Momiji.

That was the only answer he could come up with, and as he continued to deliberate, images of the outline of her incredible body against the white of her gown and the sweet taste of her lips began to dominate his thoughts. Hell, he thought derisively, this was no good. She was all he wanted to think about now that he was on his way back to her.

With a sigh of resignation he gave up trying to figure it out for the moment, hoping that Momiji would indeed prove to be the answer. Midori was Momiji’s friend, so maybe she would be willing to talk to Momiji about what she knew, he concluded. It was the only viable solution that presented itself to him. He only hoped it would work.

With her folded ceremonial robes clutched to the breast of her wool coat, Momiji stared, glassy eyed at the worn path in front of her, automatically following the curves of the trail that led up to the iwatto. The trees around her were cloaked in silence, and she took her time making the climb, going over the events of the morning in her mind. Despite the sunshine, it was incredibly cold and her breath made little puffs of vapor that hung in the air for a split second before dissipating. But she hardly noticed, too caught up in her thoughts.

Things had not gone well when she had told her mother about Kaede. Momiji bit her lip and a frown creased her brow, remembering how her mother’s expression had been tinged with a look of hope as she had first begun her explanation. Afraid of building up her mother’s hope, Momiji had then tried to hurry her words, thinking that perhaps if she finished quickly enough, she could avoid causing her mother pain.

But despite her haste, it hadn’t helped, and her mother’s pain had been palpable, weighing heavily on Momiji while she watched her mother’s face crumble into despair, her tears falling just as thick and fast as they had the first time she had thought Kaede had been murdered by the Aragami. Perhaps Momiji could have shouldered her mother’s sorrow better if Kusanagi had been there, drawing strength from his presence. She should have probably waited for him, she thought guiltily. She had told him that she would, but then reasonably pointed out to herself that she very well couldn’t - not after Ryoko had called her again this morning.

Ryoko had been highly agitated, hurriedly relaying the information that there had been an alarming string of murders in Tokyo that were most likely Tengugaki attacks. She had then told Momiji that she and Mr. Kunikida were leaving to return to Tokyo. And then she had tried to find out, without coming right out and asking, when Momiji was planning on telling Moe about Kaede.

Momiji could tell that Ryoko wanted it done as soon as possible so she would have one less thing to worry about, and so Momiji had assured her that she would do it as soon as she had gotten dressed - a task which had taken her longer than it should have, since she had been unable to find any of her underwear after her shower.

"I know that I left them in the kitchen sink," Momiji muttered to herself, and then added uncertainly, "at least I think I did…"

But they hadn’t been there this morning, and she had turned the house upside down looking for them; starting with the first place she could think of: Kusanagi’s room. She had been sure that he was playing another one of his perverted "jokes" on her and suspected that he had hidden them somewhere. But after a thorough search, she had been unable to locate them, so then she assumed that the fault was hers, that she had pulled them out of the kitchen sink and had just forgotten where she had put them. So she had tried looking in the laundry room, thinking perhaps she might have shoved them in there. But they weren’t in there either. Nor had they been in her laundry hamper.

Becoming alarmed, she had then torn her drawers apart, searching for a stray pair that might have been mixed in with her other clothes. By the time she reached her last drawer, she had been beyond panicked, thinking that she was going to have to go without. But she did manage to come up with a pair. They had been lodged in the very back of her bottom drawer. And as she had held them up, she had felt not relief, but dismay, noting that they were the ones that had the big red hearts on the back and the words, "I love you Mr. Kusanagi" scribbled across them. Knowing that she had no choice, she had pulled them up her hips, feeling the color wash through her face as she had done so.

"God help me if Kusanagi gets a glimpse of these," she had muttered sheepishly, vowing to burn them just as soon as she could find her others.

But what if she couldn’t find her others? she asked herself as she reached the opening to the iwatto and her footsteps petered to a stop at that thought.

"Better stop and buy some new ones on the way home. Just to be safe," she muttered absently to herself and then turned her focus outwards, looking at the remnants of the yellow tape marker that had been strung across the entrance to the iwatto to block it off.

It looked as if the local authorities had finished gathering their evidence samples. And it had taken them less time than she had thought it would. Momiji had fully expected them to be hard at work when she arrived, turning her away from the iwatto. But there was no sign of anyone, and Momiji didn’t know whether to feel pleased or disappointed. Last night, she had been absolutely certain that she had wanted to do this, but now, she wasn’t so sure. Kaede had not blamed her for what happened, and perhaps she should leave it at that.

But the heaviness she felt inside wasn’t lightened by Kaede’s words, and Momiji knew that she needed to do this, if for no other reason than to talk to her sister one last time. Perhaps if she could do that, then she could finally find what she needed to let go of it. After a last quick look back down the empty path, Momiji turned back and stepped inside the darkness of the iwatto.

She reached the bottom of the stone staircase and with sure steps, moved forward through the blackness towards the solar mirror that she knew to be standing there. Placing her robes on the ground at her feet, she nimbly unbuttoned her coat and placed it on the ledge next to the mirror. Then she raised her arms and turned the mirror to catch the rays of the early morning sun. Immediately the cave was filled with dim light, turning the walls from black to grey. Turning back around, Momiji peered up the stairs to the place where Kaede’s body had fallen and then after a long moment, turned her head to look at the water of the pool.

It had been shimmering brightly that night; an incredible iridescent blue. What a beautiful sight it had been, she mused retrospectively. Even though she had barely had a chance to notice it before things had begun to go wrong. Was it Kaede’s power that had caused it to glow like that? Or was it Susano-oh’s? It didn’t matter, she supposed, and looking at it now, completely still and dark, she would have never believed it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.

Still lost in thought, she crouched down, and picked up her robes, her head turning of its own volition as her eyes sought the nebulous stillness of the pool. Slowly rising, Momiji felt herself pulled to the water’s edge, mesmerized by the difference of how it looked now in comparison to how it looked that night.

It had been teeming with life and energy, but now – now it appeared cold and lifeless; the fragments of light from the solar mirror hitting the glassy surface and bouncing off, making the depths of the pool appear endless, the surface seemingly impenetrable. Tucking her robes beneath her arm, she pulled her shirt free from her pants and began unbuttoning it. As she pulled it from her shoulders, the cool, moist air of the iwatto hit the warmth of her exposed skin, sending goose bumps across her chest and stomach, and a shiver went up her spine.

Quickly unhooking her bra she placed it with her shirt in a neat pile at her feet. Then she shook out the folds of her robes, and as she did so, she felt the weight of a solid object slide against the fabric. The ceremonial blade that her grandmother had given her, Momiji realized, as it clattered loudly to the floor. She had forgotten that she had bundled it inside her robes; forgotten, too, the impulse that had caused her to pick it up from her dresser as she left her room that morning, her mind preoccupied with what she was going to say to her mother.

Momiji lurched forward to try and catch it, the bronze and gold of the chokin images on the scabbard gleaming in the feeble light. But she wasn’t quick enough, and it hit the ground with a metallic clink, the blade jarred free upon impact with the stone floor. Now separated from it’s protective casing, the tantou continued skittering forward and Momiji realized with dismay that it was headed towards the water. With a frantic gasp, she stretched her bare arm outward just as there was a loud PLOP! and the blade disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

Almost immediately a blinding light exploded in front of her and Momiji stumbled backwards, falling to her rear end and shielding her eyes from the intense brightness with her robes still clutched in her hands. There was a rising, rushing sound, and then she felt a wall of warmth press against her body. It lifted her hair from her bare shoulders, caressing her skin as invisible tendrils of air curled around her, wrapping her in their warmth and filtering past her to expand farther into the cavern.

The light expanded too as if it sought to fill every corner with its brilliance before dissolving into a bearable incandescence, and Momiji was able to drop her hands away from her eyes and look up, dumbfounded by what had just occurred. Hurriedly shoving her arms into the sleeves of her robe and belting it at the waist, she scrambled to her feet and cautiously edged closer to the rim of the pool.

The water was glowing again, but this time, the light wasn’t blue. It was gleaming like molten gold, shining with an incredible brightness as the surface moved in slow, undulating waves. And above it, the air was awash with luminous color. A thin veil of gold hung like a delicate mist suspended in midair, where tiny orbs of white, glimmering like diamonds, shifted slowly within the gossamer folds.

Momiji watched, her mouth slightly agape and her eyes following the lazy movements of the orbs as they danced in the air, before she looked back at the pool, still awash with restless movement.

What was going on here? she wondered in awe.

And then her eyes caught sight of a bright object lying against the bottom of the pool. It was the tantou, and its blade was aglow, the steel no longer metallic grey but a golden red.

Momiji fell to her knees and leaned her face close to the surface of the water, holding back her hair to keep it from falling into the pool while she stared intently at the tantou. Was the ceremonial blade causing all of this? she puzzled, looking at the water and the spangled mist that hung above it, before turning her attention back to the knife resting along the bottom of the pool. This power was so different from what she had seen before when Kaede was here, and, Momiji was left to doubt whether or not it originated from Susano-oh. But if not from him, then where and what kind of power was it? she thought uneasily.

With a tentative hand she reached out, her fingertips hovering over the water, almost afraid to touch the surface. She hesitated for a long moment before finally allowing her fingers to quickly skim the surface, jerking them back almost before they had accomplished the task, another jolt of shock running through her. The water had been pleasantly warm, and Momiji, who had been purifying herself in these waters ever since she was a child, knew how unusual that was. But what was even more unusual was what had happened to the tantou when she had touched the water.

It had changed color, the blade going from golden red to pure white, blazing with a dazzling intensity. However, the minute her fingers left the surface of the water, the light had died away, changing back to the gold-red of before, and Momiji’s feelings of trepidation at the strangeness of it all began to grow stronger. Trying to ignore the insistent voice of warning in the back of her head, Momiji took a deep breath and determinedly stretched her hand out once more.

The moisture that remained clinging to her fingertips began to form small, elongated beads that shivered from the tremors shaking her hand as she held it out as far as she could. The drops grew in size, until, with a slight shudder, they were released, falling downwards, immediately swallowed up by the gentle roll of the golden waves. Momiji barely noticed them as she leaned out as far as she could over the pool, her toes dangling over the edge and her balance in jeopardy as she tried to gauge the distance between herself and the tantou.

No matter how much she stretched, she concluded with a frown, it was just too far away for her to reach from where she was. Brushing the remaining droplets of water from her fingers, Momiji clambered to her feet, and hovered uncertainly on the edge of the pool, watching the small will-o-wisps float around, trying to decide what to do.

After a few moments contemplation, she turned and picked up her shirt folding it neatly before carrying over to the solar mirror to put it with her coat. Then she kicked off her shoes, and peeled off her stockings, but left her pants on without bothering to put on her hakama, knowing that what she was about to do was insane. But she could see no other alternative. She needed to get that knife, she thought irresolutely. Her grandmother had entrusted it to her. She had believed that it contained a special power.

Well, Momiji thought wryly, she was right about the power part. But, Momiji seriously doubted that her grandmother had ever imagined anything like this when she had told her it was a formidable weapon. Momiji moved towards the pool again, momentarily stopping to pick up the tantou’s scabbard from the ground as she went and tuck it between her robe and her belt. Her fingers curled around the engraved chokin images at her waist and as she straightened, she found her movements momentarily arrested when she realized that perhaps, just perhaps, Grandma had known.

Grandma knew a lot of things that she never told anyone about. So perhaps she had known that this kind of power would eventually manifest itself. If Grandma had known, Momiji thought with a flash of irritation, the least she could have done was warn Momiji about it. Momiji’s thoughts sputtered to a halt as she found herself once again standing on the edge of the pool. Without giving herself a chance to back out, she plunged her toes into the water and stood, her feet resting against the rocky bottom, feeling the warm currents soak through her pants and move around her ankles and shins in an almost caressing manner.

She slowly moved through the buoyant waves. The water around her legs seemed to propel her ever forward, and the little orbs of light bobbed and weaved around her head, floating away from her almost as if they knew they were in danger of colliding with her as she approached them. After a few feet, Momiji came to a stop, despite the insistent gentle push of the water that continued to urge her onwards. The tantou was now mere inches away from her, and it was glowing white again. Momiji could feel its raw energy pulsating against her legs, and something deep within her resisted picking it up, fearing the power flowing out of it, and the power that it was seeking.

Trying to dismiss her feelings as overactive imagination, she bent, her left hand convulsively clenching into a fist, and slid her right hand into the water to retrieve the blade. Just as her fingers curled around it, Momiji’s head snapped up at the faint whisper of sound, like a high-pitched chirping, that began to fill the air, rising in intensity as she pulled the glowing blade free from the water.

The hilt on the tantou grew hot and began to vibrate, sending shockwaves through Momiji’s hand and up her arm, and great beams of light shot out from the blade along with a sudden thrust of hot wind that whipped Momiji’s hair away from her face and made her eyes water from the intensity of it. With a cry of fright, Momiji tried to let go of the knife, but her fingers remained fastened securely in place.

And the orbs that had been bobbing so slowly and gracefully only seconds before, began zooming around, their excited chirps growing louder and louder as they formed a loosely cohesive pattern that encircled the chamber. They moved with increasing velocity in a swirling ellipse that began to condense, coming closer and closer to Momiji’s body, like a galaxy collapsing in on itself with Momiji as its center. Soon they had formed a churning vortex around her, moving with such force that her robe flapped violently around her legs and her hair whipped around her head, blinding her.

Momiji didn’t have to see them to know that the orbs were pressing in on her, and she clenched her eyes shut in terror as their sound reached an almost unbearable keening. Again she tried to force her fingers to let go of the knife, and again she failed. Her hand remained stiffly outstretched in front of her and it ached from the amount of pressure that she was involuntarily exerting upon the hilt.

Someone, please help! Momiji silently cried.

Then the vortex exploded inwards, and the small spheres of light sank into Momiji’s flesh, striking her like a thousands needles. She screamed, and in a gesture of self-defense tried to draw her body in on itself, but found that she couldn’t move. A glow began to permeate the air around her and as the last of the spheres were absorbed into her, Momiji began to lose sense of her surroundings.

A myriad of voices began speaking in her mind, their sounds overlapping one another, whispering in a strange language she couldn’t understand. And then she felt a tingling sensation along the back of her neck and she lost total control of body, listening in helpless incredulity as the whispering voices rose and combined with her own, ringing out in the surrounding stillness.

"Hitoandi kaeru dota Anjin," she heard herself say loudly in a tone devoid of all inflection.

As she spoke, she felt her left hand rise, and her index and middle fingers lightly brushed against her lips before moving outward in a sweeping gesture in the air in front of her. Then her hand dropped to curl around the exposed blade that her right hand had raised in front of her face. The whispers became more insistent as she touched the tantou, and Momiji was unable to keep their words from becoming hers.

"Ikutian alo sasaryu dego alo Athamos," her voice continued in the same, emotionless way, and she felt the blade bite into her fingers as she tightened her grip around the glowing steel.

Momiji was desperate to stop herself and yet she could do nothing, locked within her mind as a passive witness to the events that were unfolding. With a quick jerk, her hand slid upwards and the blade sliced open the skin of her palm and the bends of her fingers. Momiji tried to look down at the blood she could feel beginning to trickle down her wrist, but her eyes remained locked straight ahead. Then the whispers began again, and she gave voice to their words once more.

"Desunde kaeru dota Samai." Momiji could feel the beads of blood begin to shiver and tremble against her wrist growing in number, and another string of foreign words pushed passed her lips, "Tionan sankaigiran endota alo hitora dego Ichija."

Still not in control, Momiji’s head dipped and her eyes finally focused on the crimson droplets pooling at her wrist. They began to elongate, pulled by the force of gravity and the voices began clamoring at a fever pitch. And even though she couldn’t understand what they were saying, an overwhelming sense of terror began to fill her when she felt her lips begin to form the next words as the drops finally fell free, heading towards the water.

"Ta Sonandiendo dego miesunde – " her voice began forcefully, and Momiji’s knees began to tremble as she sensed something about to happen.

And then from the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of white cloth and a hand shot into view, catching the droplets of blood before they hit the water.

"Stop! Release her!" A familiar voice commanded and Momiji felt the Ceremonial Blade of Sacrifice being pried from her fingers.

The voices suddenly ceased, as if her link to them had been severed, and her body was once again her own. Finally free, Momiji took a great shuddering gasp of air, her body feeling extremely heavy.

"I am sorry Kushinada," came the soft apology of Lord Susano-oh.

The chokin scabbard was removed from in between her robe and belt and then Momiji heard the sound of a firm metal click as the blade was deposited back inside its scabbard. Swaying on her feet and feeling disoriented, Momiji turned her head and tried to focus on Susano-oh, whose dark eyes were staring at her, filled with concern.

"I did not know that it still existed," his soft voice echoed into her thoughts, and he put steadying hands to her shoulders as she started to fall backwards.

He gently pulled her up against his chest to keep her in an upright position, knowing that her confrontation with the Souls of the Blade had drained her.

"I thought the Blade had been destroyed. But now," Momiji vaguely heard him say as she struggled to pull herself together, her face nestled within the folds of his robes, "Now …. It could drastically change things. The pool of Restoration has modified its nature, allowing the Souls of the slain Kushinadas a moment of freedom and giving them a voice to express themselves. Not only that, but it appears that the Blade’s power has intensified over the centuries. But it’s dangerous to you, Kushinada, and I do not think that we can use it unless the Souls can be made to understand that the time of Sacrifice has changed, and that we seek to break the cycle. Otherwise, they will only consume you."

Carefully pushing her away from him, Susano-oh held Momiji at arms’ length in front of him so he could stare down into her wide green eyes, a slight smile curving his lips. "Let us forget the Blade for a moment," he murmured, his hand coming up to gently cup her cheek in a paternal fashion, "You heart is troubled, and I can sense you came here seeking someone, did you not?"

With his words the walls of the iwatto began to dissolve away, replaced by the sound of water and a deep blue sky. A warm breeze caressed Momiji’s cheek as Susano-oh stepped away from her and Momiji looked around herself. She was standing beside a lazy, babbling brook on the edge of a field of wildflowers, and a few feet away sat her sister in deep contemplation, a look of sadness on her face.

Momiji quietly approached and as her shadow fell across her sister, Kaede looked up in surprise, her eyes flitting quickly from Momiji to Susano-oh, who stood just behind her, and then back to Momiji again.

"Momiji," she mumbled, dumbfounded, "how…? What are you doing here?"

Momiji sank to her knees at her sister’s side and earnestly replied, "I needed to see you."