Kusanagi turned his head slightly, slanting a swift, shrewd look behind him as he heard the telltale crunch of the leaf being crushed beneath Murakumo’s shoe. His brow fell into a frown and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his new, long overcoat, slowing to a stop as he waited for the long haired man behind him to catch up. He knew the moment that Murakumo drew abreast with him, although neither man looked at the other. Despite the fact that they’d been in each other’s company for the past three weeks almost constantly - whether it was at a distance or in close quarters, like now, they rarely looked at each other.

"So?" Murakumo pointedly asked, and Kusanagi made an impatient noise.

"Can’t you think of something different to open your conversations with?" he asked irritated, staring off into the distance. "As perfect at you claim to be, you really suck at conversational openers."

Murakumo felt his spine begin to stiffen in annoyance, but he refused to let the little bug standing next to him get to him.

"I’m not here for your conversation," Murakumo informed him coolly. "I’m here for one reason and one reason only: you can sense the Tengugaki and I cannot."

"Well then, why the hell do you have to follow me around, dogging my steps all day?" Kusanagi flared up. "That flawless intellect of yours should have kicked in by now and informed the slower parts of you about the Tengugaki’s nocturnal habits. They’re more active in the evening hours than they are during the day." Kusanagi turned his head and looked into the alleyway they were standing next to, absently searching for any abnormal movement. "It bother’s me to feel you skulking in the background, like some kind of thief or mugger," he grumbled lowly as his cursory investigation turned up nothing, just like he knew it would. Heaving a sigh, he began moving forward again, and after a heartbeat, he heard Murakumo fall into step behind him. This inflamed him even more and he jerked to a halt exclaiming, exacerbated, into the air in front of him, "Every time I look over my damned shoulder, there you are! Can’t you find something to do on your own, at least until the sun goes down?"

"What’s the point of my wandering alone around this filthy city when there is little hope of stumbling across a Tengugaki on my own? It’s better that I stay close to you and your colleagues, since you have a better chance of finding them; even if the chances are far more diminished during the day than at night."

"Well then, why not bother one of the TAC members for a change? They have their TLTS system now – " Kusanagi suggested heatedly. "Give me a break and go tag along with Kome – She can use you more than I can – you’d make a hell of a target for bazooka practice."

Murakumo chose to ignore the sarcastic part of Kusanagi’s suggestion and replied, "Their little digital toys can’t compete with the tracking ability Kaede the Kushinada loaned to you, which is why they aren’t here now."

Kusanagi couldn’t suppress the ironic twist to his lips at Murakumo’s choice of words. It had really irked him that Kusanagi had an ability that he didn’t and when Kusanagi had let it slip that it was something Kaede had given to him, Murakumo never lost the opportunity to point out in some way or other that it was not an innate ability.

"-Not only that, but they are too slow for my taste, moving at the sluggish pace of a snail. By the time they’ve locked onto a signal, the Tengugaki is aware of their presence and already submerging back underground again. You, on the other hand, while still in serious need of some tactical fighting skills, are quicker on the strike. We’ve been able to take out the majority of the nine while the TAC has only managed to take down one."

"The TAC’s main function is to keep civilian casualties down, which is what they’ve accomplished, as well you know," Kusanagi retorted. "It’s been our job – yours and mine - to actually try and take out the Tengugaki. That might have been done a lot quicker if you were helping them instead of me, since we would have two fighting fronts instead of one," he pointed out blackly.

Murakumo negligently shrugged it off, "Whatever," he replied carelessly. "I will not trail behind a group of bumbling humans. It is beneath me."

"You are such a royal jackass," Kusanagi informed him in clipped tones.

"You think I care about what you think of me, Kusanagi?" Murakumo drawled in a supremely bored voice.

His apathetic response drew Kusanagi’s gaze directly to him for the first time since the two men had been standing there, and Kusanagi spun around to shoot him a knowing look.

"No, I know you care far more than you let on; although I’d never expect you to admit it." His acerbic remark received no response from Murakumo; not even the slightest flicker of an eyelid, so he smoothly added, "You see, Murakumo, I know where it is that you go at night, after our raids are over." Gazing steadily at him, Kusanagi took a step closer so that when he whispered his next words, Murakumo would be sure to hear them. "I’ve seen you sitting there - on her balcony more than once – " he didn’t bother clarifying who "her" was, since there was only one person whom he could be talking about anyway. " - and in the morning before you set out to join me, I’ll bet that’s where you are as well."

Murakumo’s jaw tightened, but he refused to break his silence. Instead he curled his hand into a fist and thought strongly about splitting Kusanagi’s nose open with it. The only thing keeping him from doing it was the knowledge that Kusanagi was his only viable way of tracking the Tengugaki. They only had a few days left to find the last one so he still needed the irritating fool.

Kusanagi might be unaware of the thoughts that seethed behind Murakumo’s hard, cold eyes, but he didn’t miss the tension of the other man’s clenched fist. He should probably leave well enough alone, but he was heartily sick of seeing that haughty expression. So he continued on, testing the limits of Murakumo’s disdain.

"Momiji’s spoken to Midori; so I know you haven’t made yourself known to her, even though you go there every single night. I wonder why you haven’t approached her, since it’s quite obvious that you want to." Kusanagi quirked an eyebrow at him and drawled, "Of course, the obvious conclusion is it’s because you’re afraid of what people would think." He emphasized the word ‘people’ before adding, "Being the king of Aragami, it would gall you to let us humans think that you give a damn about any one of us, wouldn’t it?"

Kusanagi snorted then and looked away in disgust. "You know what I think?" He gave a hard laugh and muttered, "Oh, that’s right; you’ve already told me that you don’t care what I think." His gaze shifted again, and he shot a fulminating glance at Murakumo. " - Well, I’m going to tell you anyway. I think that what your grandiose, detestable, Aragami pride amounts to is nothing more than cowardice." His lips compressed into a thin line and he scowled, "It dictates your actions, telling you that emotions make you weak, and so you suppress how you really feel." Murakumo couldn’t keep the flash of surprise from his face. "You seem startled, Murakumo," Kusanagi commented, "but you really shouldn’t be. Despite how much we hate each other, you and I do share one thing in common – well," he ironically amended, "maybe two things – but the one thing I was referring to, is the fact that we share Orochi’s Aragami souls. On some levels I can sense your emotions. Your hatred for me is what I feel most," he acknowledged with a grin and then added, "but there, lurking in the darkest corner of your heart to where you’ve banished them are your softer emotions – the ones that make you care about your half human son, and draw you to a dark balcony every single night."

Kusanagi stopped and examined the bemused expression on Murakumo’s face.

"In the long run, I guess I should be glad that you’re too caught up in your pride. You would only hurt her more with your arrogance if you stopped standing on the balcony and actually went in to see her," Kusanagi concluded dismissively. Turning away, he added quietly, "But then again, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her any unhappier than she is right now…"

He let his voice trail off into Murakumo’s unrelenting silence and was surprised when Murakumo asked, "And the other thing we share?"

Kusanagi gave him a considering look and against his better judgment replied, "A burning need for the soft smile of a giving heart."

Sure that he would only receive rejection for such a statement, Kusanagi turned away before Murakumo could react. He was more than ready to end this conversation anyway. His original intent had been to goad Murakumo with his observations, but it had ended up being something else. Why did Midori care for such an autocratic snob anyway? he asked himself grumpily. With an impatient jerk of his head Kusanagi shook away the thought. He took several steps ahead before he found himself shuffling to a reluctant stop, grimacing as he remembered what Momiji had made him promise he would do.

Turning on his heel, he swung around and faced Murakumo again.

"By the way," he muttered tersely, "if you’re going to follow me during the day tomorrow, be warned that it will be to my wedding. You should…" Kusanagi’s throat instinctively tightened to keep the words from spilling out. He would rather get down on his hands and knees and lick the pavement than do this, he thought. But Momiji had pestered him constantly about it all week, and he knew that she would be angry – no; not just angry, she would be livid - at him if he didn’t keep his promise and do what she wanted him to do.

Taking a deep breath he blurted out in his most belligerent voice, "You should consider yourself invited."

As he watched Murakumo’s eyebrows soar he experienced a rancid taste in his mouth akin to having actually licked the pavement. Perhaps he should have just saved himself the trouble and done so while issuing the invitation.

"Don’t think you’ll hurt my feelings if you decide not to come," Kusanagi hastened to assure him with a sour look. "I, for one, have had enough of seeing your pasty face over these past three weeks that I would rather not be subjected to it on my wedding day. But Momiji seems to think that you might come if you know that Midori is going to attend – despite the fact that I keep telling her otherwise," he concluded with a scowl. "So do me a favor, and don’t come."

Instead of getting the response he was hoping for, Murakumo failed to turn down his offer. But then again, he failed to accept it as well. It was as if he was ignoring it altogether which, for some reason, irked Kusanagi even more.

"I hardly think that now is the time for a wedding," Murakumo finally intoned coldly after a long moment. "You do realize that in just a few days, the moon will have completely disappeared?"

"Of course I do," Kusanagi retorted stiffly.

Murakumo’s lip curled. "And having a wedding is more important to you than killing the Tengugaki?"

"Yes," Kusanagi replied curtly, "- and no."

Murakumo cocked an enquiring eyebrow at Kusanagi. For a long moment silence reigned between them.

"Have you stopped to think about tomorrow at all?" Kusanagi finally asked him, and at the look on Murakumo’s face he made an impatient noise, "I don’t mean tomorrow ‘tomorrow’, but the future. What it will be like…"

"Of course," Murakumo replied loftily but Kusanagi snorted and shook his head.

"All you think about is your kingdom, and the way you want things to be – but the reality – it’s far different." Kusanagi muttered turning on his heel and trudging forward again, pulling up his collar as a bitter gust of wind hit him in the face. "We may be hunting the last Tengugaki Sentinel at the moment, but how long will that last?" he demanded darkly, and then threw over his shoulder "until the new moon, right? And then what? Tamanasu returns, that’s what. And my guess is he won’t be returning alone either." Kusanagi stopped to stare down another alleyway, searching the lengthening shadows more carefully since dusk was beginning to set in and the presence of Tengugaki was becoming a little stronger now. "As long as their Arch Daemon, Akumakai, remains beyond our reach, we will never win," he predicted bitterly. "It will be one long bloodbath if we can’t find a better way to stop them. Especially if what Zan Kazai said was true – if they gather enough power to increase their numbers, then you and I are not going to be enough to stop them." Nothing was moving in the alley and he turned and moved on. "That’s why this wedding is so important to me," he explained, not really caring if Murakumo was bored by all this or not. "Momiji is…" his voice petered out. He was reluctant to put into words exactly how he felt about Momiji so that Murakumo could mock him or make light of how he felt. "she is special," he finally settled for saying, "giving me something to fight for; a reason to keep going, to keep hoping that together we can find the end." He finally looked over his shoulder at Murakumo and was surprised to find him looking thoughtful instead of playing the disdainful aristocratic lord as he usually did.

"You’re wrong, about my kingdom – the way I want things to be." Murakumo finally responded in a low, toneless voice, "When I think of tomorrow, I think only to survive to see another sunrise. As long as I survive, and my son survives, then I have done my best. But for the future of my kingdom – I do not know anymore. " he stopped a heavy silence falling between them. "I no longer have a clear view of what lies beyond the survival of tomorrow –" he murmured mostly to himself as he became immersed in his thoughts. "My kingdom was a hollow dream. I know that now," he murmured in subdued tones which became focused and sharper as he declared, "Even so, I will not turn my back on my own race and help the humans to corrupt the earth."

He glared defiantly at Kusanagi who calmly returned his gaze.

"No one’s asking you to," Kusanagi said, "but humans have a right to live as much as the Aragami do. And your son, Murakumo – he may be Aragami, but he’s also half-human," Kusanagi replied.

"What are you implying?" Murakumo demanded with a frown.

"What I mean is that if you try to turn him against the humans, you are in danger of destroying him since he is also human." Kusanagi looked away then and stiffly added, "If you have any feelings at all for your son, you will not try to keep him from embracing his human nature. He needs to understand that part of himself." Kusanagi was suddenly very uncomfortable. Why was he saying these things? he thought in dismay. Perhaps it was the memories of his own barren childhood that caused it, he concluded. At least that’s what he attributed to when, with horror he heard himself mutter, "More than anything, you need to find him a mother."

"The hell you say?!" Murakumo choked in fury.

The hell is right, Kusanagi berated himself. His wits had totally gone lacking. Even with the excuse of his own lousy childhood he could find no reason why he would say such a thing. Noa deserves every right to happiness - the happiness you’d never had, came a thought from deep within him, and the unconditional love of a mother; something every child needed.

A nauseating presence tugged sharply on Kusanagi’s conscience pulling him away from his wayward thoughts and his body reacted immediately by tensing. He whipped his head around and, Murakumo, in tune with his change, came to stand beside him, his face tense as well, their incongruous conversation immediately pushed aside.

"Is it here?" Murakumo asked in a low voice, his grey eyes scanning the empty zigzag of narrow alleyways where they were standing.

"Yes," Kusanagi muttered with trepidation, beginning to move stealthily ahead, and then quickening his pace. "But it’s sensed us as well. I think it’s going to try and run!"

"Not if I can help it," Murakumo hissed, and then, "which way?" looking to Kusanagi for direction.

Kusanagi pointed towards the right, while he himself flitted forward at a forty-five degree angle. "If you go that way, we may be able to cut it off."

"How does it look?" Momiji asked anxiously, looking up from her data sheets, her fingers still poised over the keyboard.

"Mmm," Matsu breathed vaguely, "so far so good. How many sets are there left to enter before you’re finished?"

Momiji turned and glanced down at her sheets, her eyes sifting through the scribbled notes in the margins, checking for any data sets she might have inadvertently left out.

"Looks like there’s only three more now," she responded.

She began to key them in one by one, conscientiously double-checking them. Just one error could make it seem like the ceramics were doing their job when in reality they were useless. And even though right now, it wasn’t that important, - since Noa was staying in a room with ceramic coated floors, ceilings and walls it would be in the future. If for any reason it should become necessary to move him, these smaller ceramic bracelets would be crucial for his safety since the ceramic walls of the room couldn’t be moved.

"Done!" Momiji finally piped when she was sure there were no mistakes.

"Excellent. Now just let me check a few things," Matsu murmured, her grey eyes never leaving her computer panel.

Sitting up straighter, Matsu reached out and began making some adjustments to the knobs and switches and Momiji took that moment to push back her chair so that she could stand a stretch her back. Reaching high over her head, Momiji linked her fingers together and flexed, sighing as she felt her stiff muscles begin to loosen. Dropping her arms back down, she looked through the long observation window that was right behind their computer station and into the room beyond.

It was comparatively small, and despite the nursery furniture, it had a sterile quality about it. Along the back wall was a metal rack from which hung the clothing Momiji had brought from Izumo and right next to it a doorway which led to a small bathroom. The middle of the room was cluttered with a baby crib, a changing table, a rocking chair and two cots that she and Kusanagi had used for sleeping quarters from the day of the room’s hasty construction – their third day back in Tokyo. Before that they had stayed at Mr. Kunikida’s house, and upon his request, in separate rooms until this room’s walls floor and ceiling could be coated with the required ceramics.

Mr. Kunikida had wanted to assign a special watch to take care of Noa once the room had been completed, but Momiji had refused. Kaede had wanted her to take protect Noa, so she had adamantly insisted on staying with him. Tonight, the night before her wedding, would be the first time since she had taken up her guardianship that he would be watched over by someone else. Her wedding. Momiji felt her breath catch at the thought as the nervous excitement that had been simmering in the background all day flared to vibrant life. She and Kusanagi hadn’t had much of an opportunity to spend time together since returning to Tokyo. Almost every waking moment of her day was focused on taking care of Noa and helping with the research on ways to keep him safe once the Tengugaki began to search for him again. And every moment of Kusanagi’s day was spent tracking their unrelenting enemy. Just a lingering kiss that he would press against her lips while she was still lying on her cot and the few whispered words they exchanged before he pulled away to begin his grueling hunt was the extent of their time together these days. He was long gone by the time she finally arose to begin her day and was still gone when she stretched out on her cot at night, trying her best to keep the darkness that surrounded her from creeping into her thoughts.

Despite the quietness of the tiny room, it often took Momiji a while to fall asleep since her worries would always come to the forefront of her mind during these dark hours. As the synthetic peace settled around her, she would lie there, thankful that the ceramic walls were shielding her from feeling the energy pulse of the Tengugaki, while her imagination tortured her with images of all the terrible things that could be happening to Kusanagi at that very moment. She would struggle to suppress these thoughts but then others would creep in behind the first and she’d end up fretting over the future, and how fragile the shield was that kept Noa safe from the sharp talons of the Tengugaki. So much depended on Kusanagi and Murakumo’s strength. She wanted to be strong too, to be there for Kusanagi in case he needed her. She had tried several times to stay awake until he returned to her, but the stress of her worries coupled with the fact that Noa’s hungry cries still woke her several times a night was too much for her body, and she would eventually fall asleep long before Kusanagi returned.

Sometimes, if she were lucky, Noa would wake her a few hours before sunrise and she would look over at Kusanagi’s cot to see him lying there. She’d be so relieved that he’d returned safely that she sometimes felt like weeping. During those rare times, she’d sit in the rocking chair and feed the baby, watching Kusanagi sleep and note how his handsome face would be drawn into deep lines of exhaustion. It worried her and she longed to reach out and touch him, to wake him so that she could hear him tell her everything was okay. But he needed his rest more than she needed reassurance, and so she never did. He was pushing himself to his limits for her – for them all and she forced herself to be content with the knowledge that at least he came back to her each night and touched her with his warmth each morning before he left.

For now, it was enough she told herself as she came back to the present, her green eyes focusing on the quiet, dark-headed girl ensconced in the rocking chair behind the observation window. Midori didn’t even have that, Momiji thought sadly, her eyes moving over her best friend’s pale countenance, noting the gentle smile the curved her mouth and the warmth that lit her brown as she looked down at the baby cradled in her arms. No one loved Noa more than Momiji did – except for Midori. Momiji watched Midori intently for several long seconds before she reached down and flipped the speaker switch on the computer panel. Midori’s voice crackled to life inside the observation booth.

She’s singing to him, Momiji realized, feeling a knot forming in her throat. It was a familiar childhood melody, and Midori sang it sweetly, but for Momiji it was hard to listen to. She felt like Midori was slowly slipping away from them. The only time her friend showed any animation was when she was with Murakumo’s son. It was Midori’s driving determination that had seen the completion of the chemical formulas for the smaller ceramics. Her spirit was unflagging when she was focused on the baby boy and more than once Matsu had had to force Midori to quit working and go home. The minute that she stopped pouring over the equations on her computer screen or returned Noa to Momiji’s waiting arms and said her goodbyes, all of the life would go out of her, and she would transform right in front of Momiji. A lost, bereft look would fill her eyes and her shoulders would droop in defeated weariness. The unnatural pallor of her face would become even more pronounced and the smile pasted on her face for Momiji and Matsu’s benefit wouldn’t even fool a child.

Concerned by these radical changes, Momiji had tried to talk to Midori about Murakumo and the results had been more painful than fruitful. Midori had finally confided in Momiji about what had passed between her and Murakumo in Takachiho, even relating to Momiji in misery the humiliation of their bedroom encounter. Momiji’s heart had gone out to her friend, and after recovering from the initial shock over the fact that Murakumo had seduced her shy friend, she came to the conclusion that the Aragami Lord cared for Midori. Momiji might have even gone so far as to say that he loved Midori, but, Momiji thought ruefully, it was hard to imagine the cold, methodical Lord Murakumo harboring that emotion for anyone.

Feeling a reserved optimism, Momiji had tried to encourage Midori about Murakumo, but Midori had refused to pay any heed to her.

"I know he’s grateful for my help," she had murmured in a subdued voice without looking at Momiji, "he told me so before he left. But –" she’d stopped then, the short strands of her hair quivering around her face as she’d tried to suppress the quake of her voice. "- I don’t think I’ll ever forget that look on his face after we – after he left me that night. He was repulsed, Momiji." Momiji had been speechless then, not knowing what to say, feeling helpless when Midori’s gaze had finally found hers and she’d announced, "It was the worst day of my life, and I – I really feel it would be best if I didn’t talk about him anymore. He’s gone now, and I have to move on, just as he has moved on."

Momiji had mutely nodded her head in agreement even though privately, she’d known that Midori hadn’t moved on. She might say that she was moving on, Momiji thought as she continued to watch Midori rock Noa. She might have even convinced herself of it as well. If that were the case, then she was the only person that believed it. That was why Momiji had insisted that Kusanagi invite Murakumo to their wedding. If he came, then perhaps it would help to rejuvenate Midori’s spirits somewhat. That was if he came, which he most likely wouldn’t do since he and Kusanagi still couldn’t stand each other’s company.

The singing had stopped and Momiji realized Midori had looked up and caught her staring. Pinning a cheerful smile on her face, Momiji raised a hand and waved to her friend before stepping forward and pushing at the glass door that separated the booth from the room. As she closed the distance between them, she noted that Midori watched her nervously, almost as if she was afraid of anyone examining her too closely. Reaching her side, Momiji kept her smile in place, and, trying to put her best friend at ease, began to talk about how excited she was about tomorrow.

It did the trick. Some of the tension left Midori’s shoulders and her face relaxed into a less rigid expression.

"Sounds like you’re all ready for tomorrow," Midori observed, gently patting Noa’s back.

"Yes, I think so," Momiji beamed, her expression dimming somewhat as she added, "I’m just hoping that the weather reports for tomorrow are wrong. Otherwise I might be holding an umbrella at the altar."

Midori looked a little disconcerted at that and then she laughed. "I haven’t heard that it was supposed to rain!" she said.

"Yes," Momiji sighed resignedly, crossing her arms, "that’s what the weathermen keep predicting." And then she grimaced, "I guess that’s what I get for not sticking to my original plan of having the wedding at Mr. Kunikida’s house. But the thing of it is, when I found out that the Great Cherry Tree in Susanoh-oh park was blooming, I knew that I had to have it there. It was like Lord Susanoh-oh was telling me that he approved …" Momiji’s voice trailed off uncertainly before picking back up again. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was just a coincidence."

"I don’t think so," Midori remarked softly, drawing Momiji’s attention back to her. "With everything that’s happened, Momiji, how can you not believe that this is his way of blessing your union with Kusanagi?" Momiji’s cheeks flushed a little at that and she smiled. "Don’t forget too," Midori added as she shifted Noa and rose from the chair to move towards his crib. "Susano-oh is god of storms. There’s no way he would let it rain on your wedding. - No matter what the weathermen say." Midori gently laid the sleeping baby in his crib, pulling a blanket up over his shoulders. His little fists were drawn up close to his face and her fingers momentarily touched the small ceramic bracelet encircling one of his wrists. She pulled away when she felt Momiji come to stand beside her. "Are you still planning on staying the night with Mr. and Mrs. Kunikida tonight?" she inquired with a sideways look at her friend’s face.

Momiji rested her hands against the smooth wooden rails of Noa’s crib and nodded her head. "Mom called me a few hours ago. She just got in from Izumo. She’s staying with them as well. We’re all having dinner later this evening."

"What about Kusanagi?" Midori wanted to know.

"He’s still out with Murakumo," Momiji tried not to notice how Midori tensed when she his name so she rushed on, adding, "I don’t think he’ll be coming.

"Is he also staying with the Kunikida’s tonight?" Midori asked trying to stave off the awkwardness that began to rise between them.

Momiji shook her head and replied, "He’s staying with Kome and Yaegashi tonight." Picturing the three of them together made her laugh a little and she added, "Neither Kome nor Kusanagi are too thrilled about that. He told me that he’d rather come back here and stay with Noa, but Mr. Kunikida vetoed that idea, saying it was his right to do so since he and Ryoko are acting as our Nakodo for the wedding. He insisted that Kusanagi spend tonight thinking about the commitment he would be making tomorrow, and felt Kusanagi would have more time to do so if he didn’t have to take care of an infant." Momiji grinned then recalling the martyred look on Kusanagi’s face. "I don’t think he’ll get much reflecting done while Kome’s around though. Knowing Kome, she’ll want to have a long heart to heart conversation with Kusanagi on my behalf. He’ll be lucky if she doesn’t whip her bazooka out and threaten him with it," she twinkled.

"No wonder he doesn’t want to go," Midori replied amusedly, "I wouldn’t want to go either."

There was a pause in the conversation and striving not to sound too anxious, Midori finally asked, "Has it been decided, then, who will be staying with Noa tonight?"

Momiji slid Midori a sympathetic smile and replied, "I think Matsu said she was going to do it." Midori tried to keep the disappointment off of her face as Momiji explained. "I know you wanted to do it, but you’ve been working so hard on getting the new ceramics finished that you’ve neglected everything else. Matsu just wants you to get some rest." Momiji wanted to say more, to voice her patent concern for Midori’s welfare, but one look at Midori’s face told her that such remarks would be unwelcome.

Midori interpreted the troubled look on Momiji’s face as one of pity and she turned away. She didn’t want pity, she told herself, her heart nothing more than a stone in the middle of her chest. She just wanted to forget…

"Girls," Matsu called to them, her head stuck through the half open glass door.

Both Momiji and Midori turned to her, relieved by the distraction.

"You can take Noa’s bracelets off now," she informed them and then beckoned to them, "And them come take a look."

Momiji waited while Midori reached down inside the crib and gently removed the ceramic bracelets and together she and Momiji shuffled toward the observation booth in awkward silence. Matsu was already back in her chair, sitting in front of the computer. As they entered the booth, she beckoned them closer and they crowded closer to her chair to look get a look at what she wanted to show them.

"I thought you might be interested in the results of the testing we’ve been doing on the ceramics," she said. After a few rapid keystrokes, she hit enter and a set of oscillating waves appeared on the screen. "You see these?" she asked the girls, using her pencil to point to the two different wave patterns. "This is the energy wave pattern for Noa’s mitamas and this is the one for the old thermal ceramics that we used to construct this room. From previous testing, we already know that their amplitude and frequency cancel each other out, resulting in the ability to mask Noa’s mitamas." She glanced up a moment to see both girls studying the wave patterns before she continued. "Now look at this," she murmured, typing a few more keystrokes and then hitting enter. "This is the wave patterns for the new ceramics. It looks very similar to the wave pattern of the old ceramics, except for the period of wave motion. It’s shorter."

"So what does that mean?" Momiji wanted to know with a blank look.

"It means the ceramics don’t work," Midori said wearily.

"No," Matsu interjected, turning to survey the two girls, her grey eyes traveling between them, "that’s not necessarily what it means." Turning back to her keyboard she began typing again and as she hit enter she said, "The wave of the new ceramics does just what it’s supposed to." She pointed to the motion of the waves, "it causes interference and masks Noa’s mitamas, but if you explore its cycle, it does more than that. It actually begins to change the mitamas’ energy wave."

"Change?" Midori asked, leaning forward to get a better look. "How?"

"The frequency becomes shorter and the amplitude begins getting bigger, creating a higher concentration of wave motion."

"Is that bad?" Momiji wanted to know.

Matsu hesitated before answering, "I’m not certain if you could call it bad or good. What it amounts to is a build up of concentrated energy. It would be like powering up the mitamas. The ramifications are quite staggering if you consider using it for Murakumo or Kusanagi. It would enhance the power of their mitamas ten fold. I think I’ll talk to Mr. Kunikida about using the remaining ceramics to create adult size bracelets, just to test them. However, these," she took the bracelets that Midori was holding and placed them in a small, plastic lab receptacle, "I don’t think should be used for Noa. We can’t say what effects they would have on his developing system."

"Hey!" Momiji exclaimed as full meaning of Matsu’s words sank in, "Are you saying that you think that these new ceramics might help Kusanagi and Murakumo to defeat the Tengugaki more easily? That would be so great!"

"Wait before you get too excited, Momiji. I know having Noa wear them is not a prudent idea, but even for Kusanagi and Murakumo – " she shook her head a little dubiously, "I’m not at all certain what the prolonged effect would be if they’re worn for any length of time. These ceramics could actually do more harm than good. What if they caused the mitamas to become unstable or even worse, what if they overloaded the mitamas and caused them to burn themselves out? Theoretically, that could result in death for both Murakumo and Kusanagi." Her words quickly doused Momiji’s enthusiasm so she reached out and gave Momiji’s arm a light squeeze. "I don’t think you need to be quite so glum about it," she said bracingly. "These new developments are a good thing, Momiji. It’s just we need to be a little cautious with our optimism until we know more." Momiji nodded her head in agreement, and Matsu’s grey eyes shifted to Midori who was standing, pale and solemnly silent by Momiji’s side. "You should be very proud," she offered with a smile. "It’s because of you that we may have a new powerful tool in our arsenal of weapons against the Tengugaki. I think a couple days off are in order for such a brilliant piece of work, Midori!"

Time off!? Midori thought, dismayed. She didn’t want it. Working was her only solace. It kept her thoughts occupied and the long hours helped to ensure that her mind was too numb to think about anything when she finally did go home at night.

"Oh, but, I -" Midori protested but Matsu waved away her protestations with a cheerful smile.

"No buts," she said, "you more than deserve it. It’s the least I can do for all of your hard work and dedication."

Midori’s brown eyes stared beseechingly at Matsu who didn’t seem to notice. Momiji was going to be off for the next couple of days because of her wedding. Surely Matsu could use her help here? Midori reasoned desperately.

She voiced as much, but the scientist just firmly set aside her words by saying, "I think I can manage on my own for a day or two. You have really given it your all these past few weeks and the rest will do you good."

Midori wished there was some way that she could make Matsu change her mind. Perhaps if Momiji were to help persuade her, Midori might have a chance. But after their conversation in the other room, Midori knew that Momiji would only side with Matsu in this instance. It seemed she had no choice in the matter, she realized with futility.

"T-thank you," Midori mumbled a trifle glumly.

Ms. Matsudaira smiled warmly at her and she managed to dredge up a wan smile that wobbled and disappeared as Matsu looked at the clock and then said, "I know it’s a bit early, but I think we’re done here for the day." Her gaze pivoted back to Momiji and Midori and she said, "Why don’t both of you take the rest of the day off?"

And so it was with lagging steps that Midori found herself shuttled into her coat, trundled up the stairs and expelled out of the building with Momiji by her side. As they reached the pavement, Momiji took a deep breath of cool air and looked up at the setting sun.

"It’s the first time in three weeks that I’ve actually left this building while it’s still light out," she declared. "I know it’s the same for you too," she said as she examined Midori’s whitened cheeks. She looked even paler in the natural light than she had under the artificial glare of fluorescent lighting. "You are coming tomorrow, aren’t you?" Momiji blurted out.

Midori shot her a surprised look.

"Of course I am," she said and wondered how she had let herself become so distanced from everything and everyone that her best friend was forced to ask such a question. "Nothing could stop me from being there, Momiji," she assured her, and found herself enveloped in a tight hug.

"It’s going to get better," Momiji whispered to her, "I promise."

Their eyes met in the mirror and they shared a smile. Despite the anxious expression that sat upon her face, her youngest daughter was radiant. Momiji had chosen to forgo the traditional coiffure of Bunkintakashimada, choosing instead to pull her hair into a loose bun at the back of her crown. It suited her, Moe thought, noting that a few soft wisps had fallen free to frame her high cheeks. Momiji was dressed in the same Shiromuku that Moe had worn at her own wedding. The heavy white satin of the bridal kimono was a crisp contrast to the rich mahogany color of Momiji’s hair and it intensified the verdant color of her eyes. The trailing folds draped to perfection around Momiji’s slight frame and Moe felt pride well up in her at what a beautiful person her daughter had become – inside and out.

"You look so beautiful," she murmured, reaching out and adjusting one of the Kanzashi ornaments that were nestled in the loose bun of her daughter’s hair.

"Thank you, Mother," Momiji murmured and then rose from her stool and anxiously inquired, "It’s not raining, is it?"

Moe hooked her arm through her daughter’s as they left the room together, moving slowly since the Shiromuku restricted Momiji’s movement. "Not yet," her mother informed her patiently as if it was the first time and not the fifth or sixth that she had been asked that question. "The skies are still overcast, but I think it will hold off for a little while longer - just long enough," she said, squeezing her daughter’s arm, "for you to get married."

"Is she ready yet?" Kunikida’s voice called up the stairs, interrupting their conversation. "We’re going to be late!" he cried in agitation and they could hear Ryoko’s softly chiding voice trying to calm her husband down.

"We’re coming!" Moe called and shot Momiji a conspiratorial look. "Honestly, I think Mr. Kunikida is actually more nervous than my own father was at my wedding!"

Despite Momiji’s fears and all the dire predictions of the weathermen, not a single drop of rain fell during her and Kusanagi’s wedding ceremony. They were showered instead with the delicate pink cherry blossoms that drifted silently from the boughs of the great tree in Susano-oh Memorial park as the Shinto priest purified all those present and then offered his prayers to the gods. When the heart of the ceremony began and despite the lack of wind, the petals continued to rain down, settling softly in Momiji’s hair and against Kusanagi’s broad shoulders. To Momiji, it seemed almost as if Susano-oh himself were honoring them, touching them and blessing them with the rain of blossoms and she wondered if Kusanagi felt the same as he prepared to speak their words of commitment.

Momiji tensed, her heart fluttering in sympathy for the nervousness she sensed in her husband-to-be. He could have chosen to have Mr. Kunikida read their commitment aloud since it was a common custom to allow the Nakodo to do so. Momiji had even offered the suggestion to him since she knew how he struggled with putting his emotions into words. But he had refused, and Momiji had been secretly pleased when he’d told her that he wanted to make the vow himself.

Turning her eyes to him, at that moment, amidst the falling petals her wedding took on a dream-like quality as he began to speak. She stared in awe at the tall, handsome man dressed in pin-striped hakama and black kimono over which he wore a haori held fastened together with a black braided cord and could hardly believe that this was actually happening: he was actually committing himself to her, Momiji Fujimiya, in front of her family and close friends.

"Together, Momiji and I take this pledge," he began, his voice uneven at first but becoming steadier as he continued, "from this day on our lives shall be lived as one. Her destiny I take to be my own, and I willingly share my destiny with her. To never walk alone, to stand hand in hand through the seasons of life, to drink from the same cup, bitter or sweet – this we offer as our bond before heaven and earth."

As he finished speaking, his voice which had been loud so that everyone attending could hear faded somewhat and his eyes softened as he looked down at Momiji. She gave him a huge, tremulous smile. He returned it with a wide one of his own before carefully reaching for the smallest of the nuptial cups filled with sake that sat on the altar before them. Taking a sip, he then turned and solemnly offered it to Momiji so she might do the same. Twice more, he repeated the ritual, each cup larger than the one before, and twice more Momiji drank from the cup before they exchanged rings and made their offering of Sacred Tree sprigs to the gods. Then they turned away from the altar to the sea of faces behind them and another pledge was made by all over cups of sake. Momiji’s gaze swept fondly over the familiar faces as each drank to signify their union of family bonds through the marriage of Kusanagi and Momiji. Usually only close family members were allowed to attend a Shinto wedding, but because Kusanagi had no family to speak of, they had invited all of the members of the TAC. Each had claimed it an honor to represent Kusanagi’s family and as Momiji watched them performing this last ritual of their wedding, she felt closer to each one there.

"Who did we miss?" Kusanagi asked her.

"Midori," Momiji replied with a frown, trying to recall the last time she had seen her friend. It had been during Mr. Kunikida’s speech, she thought. Midori had seemed agitated, and looked as if she felt unwell. Momiji had missed half of what Mr. Kunikida was saying because of the furtive glances she kept darting Midori’s way. After a few minutes Midori had murmured something to Kome and then risen to her feet. Momiji had leaned a little forward then, as Mr. Kunikida, becoming more impassioned in his tribute to Momiji and Kusanagi had inadvertently stepped in her line of vision. Kome had observed Momiji crane to watch her friend and the red head had silently mouthed the words "ladies room". Feeling a little relieved that that was all it was, Momiji had nodded and then turned her complete attention back to Mr. Kunikida.

But now that the reception was over, thinking back, Momiji couldn’t recall ever seeing Midori return to her seat.

"Here," Momiji murmured to Kusanagi, pushing the little bag towards him, "I’m going to go see if I can find her."

Momiji left the reception hall of the hotel and headed for the bathroom. Pushing the door open, she peeked inside. There, in the little retiring area, sitting in one of the armchairs beside a small table with a lamp was Midori. Her head was tilted back against the wall and she was fast asleep. Momiji slid past the door and made her way to Midori’s side. Touching her shoulder, she watched as Midori’s eyes shot open, a blurry, confused look in their dark depths as she struggled to remember where she was.

"Oh no," she cried in dismay as she saw that Momiji had changed her Shiromuku for a different bridal gown as was custom during the reception and was now wearing a more westernized one of satin and lace. "It’s not over is it?" and when Momiji gave a small nod, she said in a faint voice, "I’ve been asleep that long?" Feeling mortified, she rapidly rose to her feet and then almost fell over as a wave of dizziness assailed her.

Momiji quickly reached out and caught her friend, putting her arm around her shoulders.

"It’s okay, Midori. It’s no wonder that you went to sleep. You’ve exhausted yourself working so hard at the lab. You really need to go home and rest," Momiji urged her as she watched the embarrassed color drain away from her friend’s features to leave her looking not just pale, but a sickly green color as well. "You don’t look well," she remarked worriedly. "Why don’t you let me get Kusanagi to take you home?"

Midori rapidly shook her head, and after a few deep breaths she managed to stand on her own. "I’m fine," she told Momiji with a stiff smile. Momiji and Kusanagi were supposed to be starting their honeymoon and there was no way that she was going to interfere with their plans by having Kusanagi drive her home. "I was feeling a little… out of sorts," she explained. She omitted the reason she felt that way, not wanting to talk about it what. In fact, recalling why she felt that way made her stomach begin to churn and she tried to push the upsetting recollections away. "- I came to splash some water on my face and then I sat down for a little while to try and collect myself. I – I fell asleep. I’m so sorry," she said contritely.

"Don’t be sorry," Momiji told her bracingly, "there’s no reason to be. It’s not your fault for getting sick -"

"I’m not sick –" Midori broke in to protest, and then, as if to prove just how much of a liar she was, she felt her stomach lurch into her throat. Covering her mouth with her hand, she scrambled from the retiring room and into the main part of the bathroom where she promptly emptied out all the contents of her stomach into pristine toilet of one of the bathroom stalls.

No wonder this is a five star hotel came the irrelevant thought even as she leaned forward and moaned in misery. She didn’t think bathroom porcelain in a public facility was capable of having such a spotless appearance; but then again, she’d never really had a chance to examine a specimen of it this up close and personal before. But enough of that, she thought weakly, closing her eyes on the sparkling fixture before her.

"Oh, god," she mumbled in misery as her stomach pitched about, refusing to settle down. She kept her head lowered and after a few, long minutes, the sick feeling finally began to subside.

Sensing some relief, Momiji stuck a moistened towel over Midori’s shoulder and she gratefully took it, blotting her face with it.

"Are you feeling better now?" Momiji asked anxiously, squeezing into the small stall to assist her as she saw Midori rising unsteadily to her feet.

"Yes," Midori breathed in relief, adding, "I thought last night’s curry chicken tasted a little sour. I probably shouldn’t have eaten it."

She staggered a bit as she exited the stall after Momiji, still feeling a little lightheaded.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" she asked faintly, as she spied Kusanagi sitting with his legs crossed out in the retiring area in the same chair she had been in earlier. It had seemed fairly large to her, but it barely contained his muscular frame and he had his elbows awkwardly pulled in close to his body because of the lack of room.

"You shouldn’t be in the ladies room," she mumbled, feeling sheepish for stating such an obvious fact.

The chair creaked ominously as Kusanagi unbent himself from it and crossed over to Momiji and Midori, his eyes flitting from Momiji’s face to carefully study Midori’s.

"I won’t tell anyone if you won’t," he told her with a charming smile and then more seriously, "Momiji was really worried about you so she came to get me – and I can see why," he moved even closer and she could see the concern in his eyes. "I’m taking you home," he declared firmly as he stepped towards her side and grabbed her arm.

"Midori opened her mouth to protest, but Kusanagi had already swept her towards the door and all she got out were a few unintelligible syllables before she was whisked outside.

"I’ll be back as soon as I can," Kusanagi said, looking back over his shoulder at his wife. "Ask the concierge at the desk for the key to our suite," he told her, "he should have it ready and waiting."

Momiji nodded. She watched the door swing close behind them, standing quietly for a moment, biting her lip and worrying about Midori before she finally left the bathroom as well.