"The power went out?" she mumbled to herself groggily.

Swinging her legs over the side of the sofa, she leaned forward and propped her elbows against legs, hanging her head and staring blankly at the floor as she tried to gather her sleepy wits. A split second later, she jumped, her head jerking up in surprise when another loud crack of thunder exploded in a bright burst of lightning outside her apartment.

Pushing away the hair that had fallen into her eyes, she drew in a shaky breath.

"Well, I’m awake now," she exclaimed disjointedly, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Glancing towards her patio door, she listened to the rain pounding against the pavement, the thunder grumbling almost continuously now.

"See, Momiji," she murmured to her absent friend. "Susano-oh did wait until after you were married to let it rain. "

A brief smile for her friend’s happiness curled her lips before it flickered and went out and she sighed dejectedly. Small strobes of light continued bursting outside the patio door creating a flicker in the room like candlelight and Midori was able to make out her abandoned mug on the coffee table. Absently she leaned over and picked it up. She took a small sip and immediately regretted it. It was stone cold now and it landed with an unpleasant sensation in the pit of her stomach.

"Not drinking this," she observed flatly.

Making a face, she slowly climbed to her feet and dragged her tired body towards the kitchen to she wash her mug out. Once she got past the dividing counter she stopped for a minute. It was much darker here since there was no window to the outside and she had to get her bearings. There was no way she could miss the sink since it was a straight walk to the back of her kitchen, but she didn’t want to slam her toes into it once she got there. With hands outstretched, she cautiously moved forward until she lightly bumped into it.

Lulled by darkness, eyes half closed, Midori mechanically cleaned her mug, reaching out and feeling around for where she kept the dish towel when she was done. Her fingers had just brushed against it lying on the counter to the right when she became aware of it: the feeling that she wasn’t alone. Her eyes opened wide then, all of her senses suddenly alert. She remained unmoving in front of the sink, facing the wall; afraid to turn around as a prickling sensation skittered across the back of her neck.

It’s just because of the storm and the darkness, she tried to reassure herself, you’re letting your imagination run wild…

But she couldn’t dismiss the odd sensation that there was something or someone in the apartment with her. In fact, she realized, truly terrified now, it was in the kitchen with her. She could hear the sound of soft footfalls behind her. Looking for something to defend herself with, she frantically cast her eyes around the counters next to her, but it was too dark to make out anything clearly.

It didn’t really matter anyway, because she already knew that there was nothing remotely resembling any kind of weapon to be found there. Not on the counters nor in the sink. She kept everything all as clean as possible.

Perhaps this is a good reason for NOT keeping things so pristine, Midori, an agitated voice screeched at her from the back of her mind.

What was she going to do? she thought panic-stricken. All she had was her nice, clean ceramic mug and a slightly damp dish towel. No weapon and no time to think. Midori bit her lip, her hands shaking now. Gathering up the four corners of the towel, she clenched them tightly in her fist and surreptitiously dropped her mug inside. Then she waited, ears strained to tell how close the intruder was.

Just a few more seconds, she thought desperately, her shoulders stiff with tension. Her fingers tightening in a death grip around her makeshift weapon, she silently counted to five and then pivoted on her heel. With a frenzied cry, she swung the towel as hard as she could, aiming it upwards. The weight of the mug pulled against the towel and she knew it connected just a split-second later when the weight went slack. There was a ceramic sounding KATHUNK followed by a loud grunt.

Fully possessed by the rage of self-preservation, she pulled back to continue bludgeoning the intruder but found her wrist imprisoned in a cold, iron grip.

Making a noise similar to a trapped animal, she fought wildly to free herself until she heard a loud voice swear, "Dammit, woman! I think once was enough!"

Her struggles ceased immediately and she was rendered completely silent, her brain reeling in shock.

"M-m- urakumo?" she gasped into the pitch black in disbelief, her heart pounding for an entirely, new reason now.

Before he could answer, the lights flickered back on, and her eyes confirmed that it was, indeed, Murakumo. Midori stood goggling at him, taking in his bedraggled appearance.

"You’re, you’re," she stammered, "so wet," she ended lamely.

"That’s because it’s raining outside," he retorted heavily, still holding her arm aloft.

Dark strands of hair clung against his cheeks and scalp making the pallor of his face seem even starker than usual. This impression wasn’t helped any by the seething look in his eyes, an expression which was mostly likely due to the fact that there was a large gash at his temple, and it was bleeding profusely.

Realizing his wound was a result of her violence, Midori’s face fell into lines of consternation. Guiltily, she watched the thick flow of blood mixed with beads of rainwater trickle down his jaw line. She opened her mouth to apologize as it dripped steadily from his chin onto his coat, staining its light tan color a dark green. But he forestalled her with words of his own.

"What the hell did you hit me with?" he demanded sourly, "a brick?"

Swiping his free hand along the side of his face, he looked at the smear of blood that came away on his fingers. With an outraged look he snatched the towel from her nerveless grasp and then finally let go of her wrist.

"N-no. It was a c-coffee mug," she stammered weakly, pulling her arm back and self-consciously twisting her fingers around the place where he’d grasped her wrist.

With a sharp look at her, Murakumo refrained from replying and stepped around her to the sink. He opened the towel and looked inside, his aggravation growing. No wonder it had hurt hell. She had hit him with such force that the mug had shattered. Compressing his lips, he silently shook the large shards into the sink, grateful that it hadn’t been something as heavy as a brick. Otherwise it might have been his cracked head instead of a cracked mug.

Still standing behind him, Midori watched him turn on the water, soak the towel and then wring it out to place it against his temple.

"W-well, how was I supposed to know it was you?" she cried defensively. "It was dark." Still he said nothing and so she pointed a finger at him and added plaintively, "You know, you shouldn’t go sneaking around people’s homes!"

"I wasn’t sneaking," he snapped, spinning around and turning his frigid grey eyes in her direction. "I came looking for you because you weren’t where you were supposed to be."

He stalked past her to lean against the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. Keeping pressure against his temple he examined her bewildered expression.

Realizing she was being watched, Midori swiveled away from him. Her eyes fell on the fragments lying in the bottom of the sink and she automatically began removing them.

"And just where was I supposed to be?" she asked, putting them in the trashcan.

"On the sofa," he replied succinctly.

Startled by his words, Midori looked around at him, noting that the towel he held pressed against his head was heavily stained with blood now.

"H - how did you know that I was on the sofa?" she stammered.

"I saw you," he told her.

"When? When did you see me?" Midori asked over the strange buzzing noise that began to sound in her head.

"While you were sleeping." Murakumo replied, watching the bemused expression on her face.

"Oh," she replied, unable to think of anything to say as questions began to pile one on top of another within her mind. "I, I have a first aid kit," she mumbled, pointing to the bloody towel. She watched him scowl as she added, "Let me get it."

Moving slowly, she returned to the sink, her mind awash in confusion. How had he been able to see her? From where? Her patio? Of course it had to be her patio, she thought. Look at how wet he was! But that didn’t make any sense, she thought, befuddled. He’d avoided her earlier today, so why would he seek her out now?

"What… what are you doing here, Murakumo?" she asked haltingly when she couldn’t fathom a reason.

Waiting for his reply, she reached into the cupboard above the sink and pulled down the first aid kit, opening it up. This feels so familiar she thought, just like Ise when he’d needed her help with his mitama. He hadn’t much liked it then, either, she thought, recalling his scowl when she’d mentioned the kit. Taking out an analgesic solution and some gauze she wondered if he was going to answer her. When he remained silent, she turned to direct a questioning glance over her shoulder at him, but he was no longer there. Midori’s mouth fell open.

"Murakumo?" she called faintly.

Clutching the gauze in her hand, she trailed out of the kitchen and into the living room where she paused uncertainly, her other hand going the back of a chair. She turned her head and looked at the patio door. It was too dark to see anything and her eyes automatically shifted to the front door. It was still locked from the inside.

If he’d left, it hadn’t been through the front door, she thought. And then her gaze was snagged by a pair of masculine shoes resting just to the side of the door. He’s still here. Turning, she purposefully made her way towards the bedroom, stopping short in the doorway, mouth agape when she saw a shirtless Murakumo standing in front of her closet. He was wearing a new, dry pair of pants, his wet clothes discarded in a careless pile at his feet along with the bloodied towel which, it appeared, he no longer needed, since the gash had already stopped bleeding.

Suddenly all the misery she had been suffering for the past several weeks - all on his account – coalesced into a burning resentment and she crushed the gauze in her fist.

"What do you think you’re doing?" she asked furiously, marching over to where he stood.

He turned and looked down at her, his expression saying, ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’

"I’m changing my clothes," he replied unconcernedly.

Midori ground her teeth together. "Stop!" she snapped, snatching the shirt he’d been holding out of hands, staring disapprovingly up at him. "You don’t just waltz into someone else’s house and start using their things!" she berated him, shaking the shirt at him.

Murakumo’s eyebrow rose at her tone and he said in an almost supercilious way, "I thought these were my things; or am I wrong?"

Midori’s brown eyes burned in fury but she quietly replied, "You’re right, they are. Here," she said, violently shoving it back at him, "take it. Take them all!" she choked, waving the flimsy white gauze towards the closet, "and then get out!"

She turned away from him and took a few steps away before she stopped, shaking uncontrollably, her mind and body in turmoil. She stiffened when she felt him place his hand on her shoulder.

"You’re upset about what happened earlier today," he remarked knowingly. "I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t mean to hurt you," he murmured. "I’m sorry."

Midori’s eyes widened in reaction to his words and she stared sightlessly in front of her. So that was why he was here. Not because he had any particular desire to see her, but because he felt he should apologize. Pain twisted through her chest. She wished he hadn’t bothered to come. She didn’t want his apologies. She didn’t want him to feel sorry for her – it made her feel like she was nothing more than a stray animal to be pitied.

So this is what you meant, Midori thought dully, when you’d said you meant to destroy me.

And so he was doing exactly that. Slowly but surely, he was tearing her heart and soul into little pieces.

"It’s all right if you don’t want to see me," she mumbled numbly. "You don’t have to feel sorry for me. I don’t want you to be. It was a waste of time to come here just to apologize for that, and I would appreciate it if you would just leave."

She made herself move briskly away from him towards the bedroom door and as his fingers slid off her shoulder, she felt another piece of her heart disappear.

Murakumo watched her retreat, unsure of what to say or do. He only knew that as hard as it had been for him to finally come inside to see her, now that he was here, he didn’t want to leave.

Midori stopped at the door and without turning to look at him, she waited tensely for him to comply.

But he didn’t and she paled in shock when he softly murmured, "Let me stay."

Murakumo moved to stand behind her, one of his hands again finding a place against her shoulder as the other softly stroked her hair, tucking it gently behind her ear. "Let me stay, Midori," he repeated in a hypnotic whisper.

A strangled sound escaped her lips, and she asked in bitter anguish, "Why? Why are you doing this to me!? Is this your way of furthering your contempt for humans?" she demanded, "to make me feel…" She stopped, unable to finish her sentence as tears began to crowd her throat.

"No," he whispered. He pulled her back against his chest, one arm reaching around her neck and shoulder to hold her in a loose embrace. "When I am here, I feel less uneasy," he paused, his voice even softer when he said, "You give me… peace. I want to be here –"

"No, that can’t be -" Midori gasped, shaking her head, too afraid to believe him. "that can’t be true! You – you," she stammered in unsteady denial, her words getting tangled up before she could get them out. "- I saw the look on your face after we – that day we slept together" her voice caught on the word ‘slept’, almost breaking, and she barely managed to say, " – you hated me," before her eyes began to sting. "You were angry and disgusted…" Her voice trailed off, her entire face stiff with the effort to maintain her composure.

It was a losing battle and her bottom lip was the first to go, trembling before the deluge about to break. As hard as she tried to hold it back, a tear breached the rim of her eye and fell with a plop onto the arm encircling her neck.

Murakumo felt a warm wetness strike his skin. It cooled almost as soon as it hit, and he abruptly drew back in dismay.

She’s crying, he realized in agitation, looking down at his arm, his finger sliding along the scattered droplets.

The minute he let her go, the rest of Midori’s composure crumbled. She put her face into her hands and began to sob in misery. Shame and humiliation engulfed her. She should be stronger than this, she thought disconsolately. She didn’t want him to pity her, and yet, she behaved in such a pitiful fashion. Why couldn’t she be stronger?

In the midst of gusting sobs and violent hiccoughs, Midori found herself being plucked off her feet. Murakumo, picked her up as if she were no more than a child, his hand gently pushing her face into his shoulder. She didn’t resist him. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut, taking the comfort he seemed to be offering, her arms fastening themselves around his neck of their own volition. His skin was cold, chilled from the rain, and she pressed her burning eyes against the mane of hair that trailed down the slope of his shoulder, the water saturating its length soothing her burning eyes.

Without saying a word, he carried her over to the bed as Midori fought for control. By the time he bent down and deposited her against its edge, she’d succeeded in reigning in her sobs, but her shoulders were still jerking as she tried desperately to regain the rest of her composure, using the gauze she’d brought for his wound to sop up the tears running down her cheeks.

Murakumo remained silent, towering in front of her for several long minutes, looking down at her. And Midori couldn’t bring herself to look at him, too humiliated at how easily she’d broken down in front of him. So she kept her face averted, her hands, clenched around the soggy gauze, resting in her lap.

"You plague me like no other human," he remarked aloud. Surprisingly, his deep voice was neither accusing nor angry. "I cannot count the number of times that I have been here, standing on your patio, fighting the urge to come to you." Midori’s head jerked up, her mouth flying open in disbelief. He had her full attention now. With deliberate movement he sank to his knees, his right thigh next to hers. His attention was drawn to her hands still tightly clenched and he reached out, taking her right one, removing the gauze as his fingers smoothed away the tension, flattening it out so that her palm lay against his. With surprise, he noted that it was actually colder than his own.

"If I hated you, or found you disgusting," he told her, his grey eyes coming back to hers, "I wouldn’t be here. It’s true that I didn’t want to like you. I tried very hard not to, but I was unable to stop myself. That was why I was so angry that day. Because the closer I got to you, the more I was willing to betray my goals."

"But… aren’t you betraying your goals by being here now?" she asked, confused.

"My goals no longer exist as they once did, Midori," he said. "You changed that the minute that you entered the iwatto where I had been sleeping."

"Is, is that a good thing?" Her velvet brown eyes were so wide they almost swallowed her entire face.

For the first time since he’d arrive, Murakumo’s lips curled into a genuine smile. "Yes," he replied easily, "it is a good thing."

Midori almost missed his words, completely caught off guard by his expression. This is it, she thought, the blood rushing to her head as she witnessed the softness in his expression that she had sensed in him at Ise but had never been fortunate enough to see.

"I want to stay." He told her. Turning her hand over, he traced the lingering knife scar that marred her palm before lifting it to place a soft kiss against her skin.

She wanted him to stay too, but she was afraid to let him, afraid that he would again end up leaving her.

"For how long?" she asked cautiously.

"For as long as you’ll let me," he answered without hesitation. "Tell me I can stay," he urged.

There were no soft words of love spoken. But Midori knew that with Murakumo, there would likely never be. She loved him with all of her heart and soul, and he wanted to be with her. It might not be a fairy tale ending, but she would take it, praying that he meant what he said, for she would let him stay forever if he wanted to.

"Yes," she whispered, "please stay."

A wide smile curled Murakumo’s mouth at her acquiescence. He let go of her hand and half rose. Planting his hands against the bed on either side of her, he leaned forward until their lips met. Sparks ignited between them immediately and Murakumo edged his knee between her legs to get closer to her as he deepened the kiss. His hands left the bed, sliding against her shoulders as he continued to press towards her. And he gently tugged at the neckline of her robe, pulling it open as he slowly pushed her into the mattress.

Her feet still on the floor, Midori felt Murakumo relax against her, his hips settling against hers, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. Gripping his shoulders, she closed her eyes as Murakumo’s mouth left hers and began to wander across her cheek and down her neck, drawing in her breath as his hand skimmed across her satin nightgown. He pushed her robe open further to let his fingers move in a circular caress against her midriff before continuing lower towards the short hem of her gown. Despite everything, Midori couldn’t squelch the rising qualms that assailed her as she realized his intentions, and she pushed defensively against his shoulders.

Propping up on one arm, Murakumo lifted his head and looked at her, seeing the troubled shadows in her eyes and the hand against her abdomen became still.

"I – I know you said you wanted to stay," Midori ventured tenuously, biting her lip, unable to forget the terrible experience of their first time together. "but a – are you sure that this is – this is something you want?" she stammered. "I don’t think I could bear having to live through a repeat of what happened before –" her voiced trailed off as he lifted his hand and brushed his fingertips against the dark tendrils of hair at her temple, leaving a draft in the spot on her stomach where it had been only seconds before.

"I didn’t want this to happen," he confessed, softly running his index finger from her temple to her chin, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. "Or rather, I should say, that I hadn’t planned for it to happen. I only wanted to be able to see you again. - But now –" a fierce hunger flared in his eyes as he spoke, "- now that I’m here, I want more than that," he told her.

Demonstrating what he meant, he allowed his finger to wander lower, trailing across the column of her throat to the valley between her breasts. In a deliberate gesture, he let the back of his knuckles brush against the rising slope of her breast, watching as its peak tightened against the shiny blue satin of her nightgown.

How could he have ever thought that she was plain? he wondered slightly disconcerted. It was true that she didn’t have that ethereal quality that Hikaru had possessed, but that very quality, so at odds with Midori’s warmth and directness, made Hikaru’s allure seem cold and frail in comparison.

"You are so beautiful, how could I not want more?" he breathed in a confidential whisper, his face coming a littler closer to hers.

Midori tried to ignore the pleasure that rippled through her when he called her beautiful. She knew very well that she wasn’t, and she couldn’t understand why he would think she was. She opened her mouth to tell him as much, too, but he distracted her by beginning a leisurely assault on her body, as if to show her just how beautiful he thought she was. With his hand, he traced the shifting patterns of light that spilled across the shiny, blue satin covering her chest, letting it lead him to the peak of her right breast where his thumb moved in a circular motion against its tip.

"Your body responds as if it was made just for me," he whispered in a pleased way, cupping her breast in his palm, molding it softly with his hand. "God, you are so very beautiful," he repeated.

He slid the arm he’d been using to prop himself up with beneath her, working his way between her robe and her back, the slickness of the satin making it a fairly fluid and easy motion. Splaying one hand against the middle of her back, he held her tightly for a moment, his other hand still poised against her breast.

"I want to be inside of you; to be a part of you," he told her provocatively, squeezing her a little tighter. "- But only if you want me to be. Do you want me, Midori?" he asked in a seductive purr.

Midori’s heart tripled its beat. She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged, except for a slight wuffling sound as she tried to catch her breath.

"Tell me you want me," he coaxed indolently, his hold on her finally loosening so he could pull back and look at her, his grey eyes urging her to comply. He began to move his thumb persuasively against her breast again, and his lips grazed her chin as he whispered, "You do want me, don’t you?"

Midori squeezed her eyes shut, her entire body quivering. "I – I –" she gasped incoherently.

"Hmm?" The sound resonated smoothly in his throat. "Is that a yes?" he asked.

"Y-yes!" Midori finally gurgled, twisting handfuls of the bed sheets between her fingers. "Yes!" she cried, again, "I want y –" she broke off in a gasp, arching her back as she felt his hips press hard against her.

Finally getting the answer he wanted, all the restraint that Murakumo had been exercising disappeared and he unleashed his hunger, capturing her lips in a searing, urgent kiss. Sliding to the floor to kneel between her knees, he abruptly pulled her to a sitting position. Impatiently pushing her robe off, his lips moved across the silky texture of her shoulders before he disposed of her gown as well, quickly lifting it over her head, his arms encircling her as he buried his face against the exquisite softness of her breasts.

A shiver skittered up Midori’s spine as Murakumo pressed against her, his cold wet hair an unpleasant shock against the warmth of her skin. The mild discomfort was quickly forgotten though when she felt his mouth close over her breast. Her head fell back in abandon and she wrapped her arms around him, arching against him as his tongue traced the hard pink tip before switching to her other breast to do the same.

Soft noises rose in the back of Midori’s throat as a sweet pain built to a crescendo where his tongue teased against her and a deep flush stained her skin. Midori’s breath began to quicken, and Murakumo shifted his gaze to her face. His body was already pulsing with need, but watching her enraptured expression further fueled his desire, driving him to the brink of urgency. He would show her just how much he wanted her and obliterate the horrible memory she had of their first time together he thought fervently.

Pushing one knee away from the floor, Murakumo pressed his hands lightly against her shoulders, urging her towards the mattress. Midori’s hands curled around his forearms, trying to pull him with her, but he gently disengaged them, hovering over her, restraining from pressing his weight against her. Instead he directed his attention to removing the last of the barriers that separated their bodies. Moving quickly he stripped Midori of her underwear and just as quickly removed his pants and undergarments as well.

Finally lowering his body, he wrapped his hands around her waist and eased her hips towards the edge of the bed so the junction of their thighs met. Slowly, he pressed into her, and Midori shuddered as Murakumo curled his hips into her, pushing so deep that he brushed against the opening to her womb. Remaining seated deep inside her, he began to move his hips against her, their bodies never breaking contact. Languorously, he rolled his hips against her in a circular motion and Midori could feel him brushing against her womb with each stroke, slowly igniting a fire in the deepest part of her.

A low, guttural moan broke from her throat as the pleasure tightened to an unbearable level at her core and she cried out, arching wildly against him, her nails tearing at the muscles of his back. The tight sheath of her body trembled and tightened around him, and Murakumo grimaced, the throbbing of his pleasure building as she bucked against him. Following the pulsating beat pounding through his body, Murakumo changed the angle of his thrusts and began rocking his hips harder, his hands sliding beneath Midori’s buttocks to pull her even tighter against him.

The new depth of his penetration caused Midori to explode in release and a few seconds later she heard Murakumo give a strangled cry, his body going rigid as he spilled himself inside her. Panting hard, he collapsed on top of her, his arms on either side of her, his head, resting just above her shoulder. For a moment, the sound of their labored breathing mingled in the room. But as it became quieter, Midori’s brain started up, dredging up the memory of him pushing away from her in disgust. She immediately banished it from her thoughts, forcibly reminding herself that this time was different.

It might be different, but it felt no less awkward, and as Midori stared up at the ceiling, she struggled for something to say. Her tongue remained stubbornly still, and she prayed that Murakumo would say something. But he didn’t. She tensed and heard a sound escape from Murakumo’s lips. It was then that she realized that her hands remained clenched against his shoulders, her nails still embedded in his flesh and with a mumbled apology she made herself relax them.

"Oh, I’m s-sorry," she apologized contritely, jerking her arms back.

Murakumo grunted and after a second, he shifted his body away from her, rolling over onto the mattress next to her and sitting up. Without a word, he leaned over and began pulling the bed sheets back. Midori sat up then too, self-consciously crossing her arm in front of herself. Being naked in front of him and his perfect beauty somehow always made her feel inferior. Avoiding looking directly at him, she reached for her gown, wanting to slip it back on in order to help her regain a sense of poise.

Murakumo’s hand came out and caught hers just as her fingers touched the material and he drew her away from it.

"You won’t need it," he murmured, pulling her towards him as he climbed beneath the sheets.

"But I – I don’t normally sleep in the nude – " Midori protested weakly as he pulled her between the sheets next to him.

Murakumo propped up on one elbow and laughed at her as he watched her pull the sheet all the way up to her chin.

"Who said anything about sleeping?" he asked with a seductive quirk of his lips.

Midori blinked at him. "But I thought… we just… Don’t men normally like to rest after making love?" she asked querulously.

"Do they?" Murakumo replied absently, snagging the sheet and slowly pulling it down, his eyes following the rise and fall of her beautiful breasts. "Perhaps it’s because they lack the motivation to keep going," he observed. His fingers languidly moved from her neck down to her navel before he reached for her hip and pulled her closer to him, his body partially covering hers. Then he took her hand and guided it downwards, wrapping her fingers around his arousal and watched her eyes widen. "You’re all the motivation I need," he murmured as he nudged her thighs apart, "unless of course, you need the rest," he added as an afterthought, pulling back just a little.

"Oh no," Midori assured him vigorously shaking her head. Already her body was arching towards him, eager for his attention and she wrapped her arms around him. "I feel full of energy. It, it must have been that nap."

"How disappointing - I thought it might be because of me," he remarked lightly, reaching down to stroke the sensitive spot between her thighs.

Midori bit her lip, her eyes drifting half closed. "You’re, you’re right," she gasped truthfully, "it is…" She opened her eyes wide then, her gaze fully focused as she stared up at him. "I’m glad you’re here," she told him, her unsteady voice brimming with emotion.

"Tamanasu," a deathly rattle addressed him. "We knew we would find you here."

Tamanasu swung around and dropped into a low bow before Akumakai.

"My lord ," he murmured respectfully.

"It is almost complete now," Akumakai said, stretching the trunk of his body to come closer to Tamanasu. His obsidian eyes flickered between the shadowy form of his servant and the corpse that lay upon the ground. "We anticipate greatly your success against the humans," he told him.

Tamanasu frowned at Akumakai’s words.

"The child’s energy, my lord; it has dwindled away," Tamanasu murmured restlessly and was surprised by the sound of Akumakai’s raspy, hollow laughter.

"They have hidden it away," Akumakai observed in spiteful amusement, his face stretched into a cruel smile. "They think they have saved themselves because we cannot sense it anymore."

"And they have not?" Tamanasu’s words were a question, not a statement.

Akumakai laughed softly, the sound like the hiss of a many headed snake. "We have been listening to the Echoes; the shadows of things to come, and our senses have been stirred by a new awareness," Akumakai turned away from Tamanasu, his trunk elongating and sinking towards the grown as he moved to fondly caress the face of the Sentinel corpse. "We have sensed the anxiety of the gods too," Akumakai told Tamanasu, abandoning the corpse to stare off into the darkness, "for they know we are about to achieve what we desire without the hybrid born of the Child of the Moon."

"Then I am to pursue Kusanagi?" Tamanasu asked ambivalently.

Akumakai looked back over his shoulder, his dark eyes burning with a malignant light. "No," he replied tilting his head to the side in a considering manner, "We wonder if we should tell you or let you discover it for yourself – just as the Nine Sentinels did when they journeyed into the world of the humans."

Tamanasu was a little taken aback by his lord’s manner.

"My lord; my only goal is to serve you," he observed, "I want to succeed, to bring you the souls of the hybrid child so you may be free. But if the hybrid child is beyond our reach, and it is not Kusanagi that I am to pursue; it becomes difficult to know which direction I must take to carry out your wishes." Tamanasu paused and bowed stiffly, "However, if you feel it is better for me to find the path for myself, I will, of course, abide by that decision. I will always do my utmost for you, Lord Akumakai."

Akumakai acknowledged his most powerful Tengugaki’s words with a nod, "We have faith in Tamanasu," and after reflecting for a few seconds, he added, "but perhaps we will refrain from telling you what we know. Before you once again take your solid form as a Sentinel, we would ask that you travel to the Veil of Echoes where the darkness recedes and the shadows rise between the Road of Death and the human world." Turning dismissively, his trunk slithered back around moving towards the darkness, pausing as he passed Tamanasu. Swiveling his head, his dark eyes glittered as he murmured, "It is here that you will discover the way to defeat the humans. We know our secret will please you when you come to understand," Akumakai assured him with the air of one bestowing a great treat, "for it is a surprise worth waiting for."

He waved his hand towards Tamanasu before he glided away into the darkness. As the blackness swallowed his twisted form, Tamanasu heard his voice, becoming fainter as he moved farther away, "We wish we could be there when you discover it for yourself – but we are content knowing that our own journey is not far off now."

Tamanasu hovered, lost in thought for a moment before he too turned and left the developing Sentinel corpse. As he journeyed along the Road of Death towards its Gate, he drifted in and out of the masses of miserable souls trying to escape the many tendrils of Lord Akumakai’s body. More than once, the wails of the souls that had not been fortunate enough to evade the tendrils would draw his attention and he would stare at their outstretched hands and tortured faces as they pleaded for help, silently passing them by. He was completely unmoved as they desperately tried to find escape from the vine-like tentacles that would drain them until nothing remained, erasing their existence forever. They were pathetic in Tamanasu’s eyes; a poor source of energy for Lord Akumakai and after a while, he stopped heeding them, ignoring their calls altogether as he moved onward.

Soon, the darkness began to thin, a sign that he was nearing the Gate and the closer he drew to it, the fewer Akumakai’s grasping roots and tendrils became. As they dwindled in number, conversely, the swell of hollow souls around him began to rise. Like beasts, they wildly shrieked and clawed amongst themselves trying to remain close to the Gates while the newly damned arrived, pushing those seeking to remain outside Akumakai’s grasp deeper into the darkness where they knew they would eventually succumb.

As Tamanasu drew closer to them, they parted away from him, and he was able to approach the Gates and its Guardian without difficulty. As he drifted along, he could sense their fear of him and he heard the whisper of "Tengugaki" rush through them, each knowing that he was a soul eater and loyal follower of Akumakai. Tamanasu’s lip curled in disdain, but he let his eyes drift threateningly to the meager souls around him, cultivating their fear of him even though he would never lower himself to siphon such trash.

At the Gates, he paused, acknowledging the Demon Beast that kept the human souls from escaping and he stepped into the greyness beyond; the quiet nothingness that was the barrier between the Road of Death and the Human world. He did not relish being here without his Sentinel body. For there were other forces that patrolled these mists; Beings of Ether and Light that searched for Their strays to guide them away from the Road of Death and along a different path.

Should They come across him, They had the power to dissolve him into the same nothingness that the damned feared from Akumakai. With his Sentinel body, he could outrun Them, but as he was now, he had no protection from Them. And so he traveled very warily, wondering what it was he was supposed to discover here among the Veil of Echoes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of light and he jerked to a stop, knowing that one of Them was near. He was about to turn around and go back when he felt the faintest shimmer of energy that seemed more like the stirring of wind than energy at all. The flash of light happened again, closer this time, but Tamanasu took little heed, standing stock still, trying to discern what it was he was feeling.

Slowly a triumphant smile lit his face as he recognized the energy signature of another hybrid. Turning, he raced through the grey mists of the Veil of Echoes, heading for the Gates to the Road of Death. So this is what Lord Akumakai wanted me to find, he thought exultantly. Tamanasu passed swiftly through the Gates without stopping, the sound of his triumphant laughter causing the damned to cower even more as he tore past them.

"Tell me that Hikaru’s son is safe," she urged, her upturned green eyes pleading as she reached up to her shoulder and wrapped her cold, tense fingers around the warm strength of his.

"He is," Susano-oh softly assured her with his thoughts, gently squeezing her fingers.

"Then why do I feel like this?" she fretted. Biting her lip, she rose to her feet and turned to face her husband. "Why do I feel this terrible sense of," she gestured helplessly, unable to describe what it was. "I don’t know," she cried, "it’s like a sadness – a fear that I’m about to lose something very important - it clings to my heart making it feel heavier and heavier!"

Susano-oh smiled gently in understanding, knowing there was little he could do to relieve his wife’s troubled expression.

"The sacrifice of one to save another, thus has the balance always been, Sweet Kaede. That is what you feel," he told her obliquely, staring steadily at her as she gave him a searching look.

"Noa is safe, yet another must be sacrificed?" She asked faintly, her thoughts flitting swiftly over her beloved family and friends, the ones that she wanted desperately to protect. "Momiji? Kusanagi?" she demanded tensely, her expression relaxing a little when Susano-oh shook his head. "Not Father," she murmured absently, before inquiring, "Murakumo?" But Susano-oh just shook his head again, and then a horrible thought occurred to her. "Not a – another – child?" she asked fearfully, praying that Susano-oh would shake his head yet again.

With a mournful expression, Susano-oh murmured aloud, "I’m sorry."

"NO!" Kaede exploded in denial. "You must stop it!" she cried in anguish, "You must warn them!"

"I cannot," he silently said with a firm shake of his head.

"No!" Kaede squeezed her eyes shut in rejection to her husband’s decision and turned away from him. "You – you can! Please, I beg of you!" she whispered brokenly, her hands balled into tight fists by her side, "do not let the Tengugaki claim the life of another child," she pleaded, thinking of Hikaru as just a child.

"I cannot," he reiterated gently but unrelentingly.

"Why!" she demanded stridently, jerking around, a look of defiance in her eyes. "You are the God of Storms! You could easily stop it!"

"And if I stopped it; what then?" he asked her, stepping up and taking her trembling hands. "Your family would be forced to continue fighting a never ending battle. As long as Akumakai remains sealed in his hell where he has the resources for creating an infinite army, we can never win. And as resilient as the human spirit is, I do not think that it can withstand the constant beating and abuse of the Tengugaki without suffering. We must let Murakumo, Kusanagi and Momiji fight now, while they are at their strongest," he said staring earnestly down into her eyes. "The Night must fall before it can be sealed away by the Sun, Kaede, and so we must let the Darkness come."

Kaede’s pupils constricted until they were mere pinpoints and she stared up at him out of a whitened face. "But my lord," she gasped, her voice thick with emotion as her bottom lip trembled, "if we let loose this Darkness, I fear that even with the light of a thousand suns, it cannot be overcome."

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