The train doors closed, and the woman shifted again, thankfully in the opposite direction, taking her bony elbow with her. How unfortunate that she couldn’t as conveniently take the smell of dead fish with her. Midori could still smell it - and she wasn’t the only one, she concluded, looking around at the pinched expression on the other passengers’ faces. They could smell it too. But she was almost willing to bet that none of them were in danger of vomiting from the smell like she was.

Midori glanced at the station sign. Three more stops to go before she could get off, she thought in desperation. She could feel a clammy perspiration begin to dot her forehead as her stomach pitched around and she swallowed hard. It had been three days already and still her stomach virus persisted. Shouldn’t it be letting up some by now? she fretted.

She wasn’t feeling any better now than she had that first day after Momiji’s wedding. She’d suddenly awoken that morning while it was still dark feeling that same green feeling that had marred her enjoyment of her best friend’s wedding. She’d hardly had enough time to register the fact that Murakumo was still fast asleep next to her before she was scrambling out of bed, barely making it to the bathroom before she vomited. Afterwards, she’d tottered back to bed, feeling drained and washed out and had huddled up against Murakumo’s back, eventually falling into a dreamless sleep.

The second time she’d awoken, the room was full of sunlight and Murakumo’s side of the bed had remained rumpled but he was no longer there. Rolling over and pushing the hair out of her eyes, Midori had cautiously sat up, relieved that while her stomach still felt uneasy, it didn’t seem as unstable as before.

Everything had been so quiet throughout her apartment, she remembered thinking, her hand gripping the train pole tighter, recalling the panicky sensations that had assailed her at that moment as she’d slipped out of bed. It had been so completely still that she’d wondered if Murakumo had gone and left the apartment. But then, before she could work herself into an all out alarm, he’d come strolling through the bedroom door.

Midori had watched him stroll towards her, trying to calm her racing heart. He’d been up for a while from the looks of it, carrying a mug of tea in his hand, even though he wasn’t what she would call completely dressed. He’d slipped on a pair of the baggy trousers she’d hemmed for him while they had still been together in Ise, along with a white shirt, the cuffs hanging loose at the wrists, the shirttails un-tucked and the front completely unbuttoned. He’d looked at home and comfortable, and very, very sexy; not that anything would come of it since she felt like someone had just scraped her out of the bottom of a garbage bin.

"Are you all right? You’re terribly pale." He’d said, stopping short by the bed and staring sharply at her.

"I’m f-fine," she’d replied, self-consciously rubbing her neck. Forcing her feet to move, she turned towards her closet and said over her shoulder, "I was just going to get dressed and… make some tea."

Afraid he would think she was weak, she hadn’t wanted him to know that she’d been sick. After a long, probing look, Murakumo had accepted her response, and opted not to reply. Instead he’d strolled the rest of the way over to her while she’d stood inside the closet door picking out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and held the mug out to her.

"Here," he’d offered in a soft voice and she’d turned her head in surprise, automatically taking it from him.

"T-thank you," she’d stuttered faintly, but he was already on his way back towards the bedroom door and without turning around to look at her, he’d negligently waved away her gratitude. Midori had dressed quickly in the privacy Murakumo had given her, hastily gulping down the tea he’d left, and then just as hastily had made a beeline from the bedroom to the bathroom to throw it up.

Leaning her forehead against the train pole, Midori recalled with chagrin how she had stood in the bathroom five extra minutes afterwards, weak-kneed and shaky as she stood in front of the mirror, pinching her pallid complexion, trying to restore some of the color. Timidly, she had cracked open the door, peeking out while she’d tried to formulate some flimsy excuse to give Murakumo.

Her eyes had widened when she’d spied him leaning against the wall outside the bathroom door with his arms crossed, waiting. The minute he’d seen her one, brown eye, peering at him, he’d uncrossed his arms and pushed away from the wall, his hand coming up to press open the bathroom door.

"Uh, I, uh- ." Midori had inwardly cringed as her hiding place behind the door became nonexistent.

He’s not going to buy any excuse you make, she recalled thinking.

"Midori –" His voice had been soft and gentle. "You don’t have to be so afraid."

Her mouth had dropped open as his fingers had grasped her arm and pulled her towards him, her nose bumping against the warm skin of his chest as his arms enveloped her.

"I’m n-n –" She’d wanted to deny it, but she stopped. What good would lying about it do? "I’m sorry. I haven’t been feeling too well lately." Her voice had sounded thin and wobbly and she’d tried to infuse a little strength into it as she’d added, "I think I have some kind of stomach flu. It’s strange, really. One minute I feel almost normal and the next, I’m throwing up."

"I don’t know much about human illness -" Murakumo had let her go and taken a step backwards to cast a critical eye over her. "- but perhaps it would be best if you were to see a doctor."

"No. I’ll be all right." She’d listlessly waved away his suggestion. "I’m sure it’s just because I’ve been spending a lot of time working – even after I leave the lab –"

Her voice had died out as Murakumo had reached up and rubbed his thumb against the dark circle beneath her eye. "I can see that. You push yourself too much," he’d concluded as his hand fell to his side.

"But it’s for a good cause," she’d responded with a faint smile as they moved towards the living room. "I wanted to get the ceramics formula finished. We’ve been working towards making a new thermal based ceramic that’s more compact to help hide Noa’s presence from the Tengugaki. So far, our attempts have been unsuccessful, but - " she’d raised her hand and held up her index finger as they’d settled on the sofa, her head swiveling in his direction as she’d given him a bright look. "- Ms. Matsudaira thinks what we do have can be used by you and Kusanagi to help amplify your power when you’re fighting." She’d turned and leaned forwards then, preparing to open the laptop sitting in the center of the coffee table as she’d added, "She just needs to do a few more tests to make sure it’s safe."

"Really?" His voice had held a note of intrigue and his gaze had become a bit thoughtful as he’d murmured, "I didn’t realize they could be used that way." His eyes had drifted down in interest to the pile of papers sitting next to her computer. "Is this what you’re talking about here?" He’d asked, leaning over and pointing to a long scientific equation in middle of the top page of her notes.

Midori had stopped in the middle of opening her computer and shot him a startled glance, her mouth slightly agape. "How did you know that?" she’d asked faintly.

Murakumo had shrugged. "Because of the copper oxide base," he’d replied, his eyes narrowing as he studied the page. "It looks like you’ve made a lot of compelling advances with the formula."

Midori had ogled at him for a few long seconds, held speechless by his surprising observations, before she cleared her throat and replied, "B-but how did you know that?"

"I just told you – " he’d replied with a frown, his eyes moving from the paper to her face.

"No. That’s not what I meant. I meant, how – how come you know so much about chemical composition?"

Murakumo had shrugged again. "I don’t, really. I’m familiar with this compound because I had an interest in it at one time."

She’d suddenly understood then and felt like a moron for not having thought of it earlier.

"Oh. That’s right," she’d replied stiltedly. "I - I forgot. I’m sorry."

"Why? Why be sorry?"

He’d sounded surprised and his question had caught her off guard.

"Well, because…" Midori’s voice had petered out. She hadn’t been sure how to proceed, how to address Murakumo’s past.

"Does it bother you?" his voice had been quiet and she’d dropped her gaze away from him, uncomfortable with the probing look in his eyes.

"No, not really. I’m always sorry for saying things without thinking, so I’m used to it," she’d hedged, purposefully misunderstanding his question as she’d reached out and fiddled with the latch that held her laptop closed.

"You know I’m not talking about that." There had been a note of gentle reproof in his voice and Midori had known that he was expecting an honest answer from her. "What I’ve done." Out of the corner of her eyes she’d watched him make a sweeping gesture with his hand. "- the human lives I’ve taken. It must bother you."

She hadn’t known how to respond to that. And so she hadn’t. She’d just sat there, her mouth slightly ajar until words had finally begun to emerge.

"I – I – find it… difficult to… think of you like that."

Her hand had wandered restlessly from the computer up to her face to nervously push away the ever errant strands of hair falling into her eyes.

"Are you saying you don’t believe I did those things? – Because I did do them."

She’d known that had made little since, but it was the only thing she knew to say.

"And how is it that you see me?" His voice had been soft, coming from right behind her even though she hadn’t even heard him move.

"I see you trying so hard. You always –" her voice had melted away as he’d reached up and stroked the soft tendrils framing either side of her face, his fingers brushing gently against her temples.

"I always what?" he’d prompted.

Taking a deep breath, she’d tried again. "You’ve always done what you think is right, no matter what the cost, even when you’ve half convinced yourself otherwise. Like when I first met you. You helped me, even though it infuriated you to do so. You abhorred all humans and yet you would not let me die, even if it meant putting your own existence at peril.

"Knowing that you could have died trying to rescue me – knowing that you put my life in front of yours – this did not match the behavior I would have expected from the lord of the Aragami. All the terrible things I had heard about you – they didn’t match what I was seeing before me. And despite being faced with the knowledge of all the things you did three years ago I couldn’t forget how I’d watched you struggle to save my life. You protected me not once, but twice," Midori had observed, rubbing the scar that ran the length of her hand. "And even though you claimed I was your enemy, it didn’t matter, because I was already –" Midori had stopped herself then, realizing she was again on the verge of telling him that she was already in love with him. She’d still been too afraid to say the words.

"You were already what?" he’d prompted softly.

"I was already convinced that you could never be my enemy," she’d replied unsteadily and as she’d finished speaking, Murakumo had disentangled his fingers from her hair, his arms reaching around to encircle her and he’d softly brushed his lips against the top of her head.

"If that is how you feel, then don’t apologize for bringing up the past. I don’t want you to be sorry for being able to put aside what I’ve done. It’s because of your ability to see beyond that that I’m here. You inspire me to look for a new future, Midori." He’d loosened his hold on her then, one hand coming back up to stroke the silky top of her head, "So never be sorry for that."

Is he... telling me that - he cares for me!? she remembered thinking. Her heart had been pounding so hard then. And despite being on a crowded subway train, recalling it now made her heart pound almost as hard.

Aargh… Maybe remembering it wasn’t such a good thing though, Midori thought with a grimace. Her stomach was suddenly feeling worse, no doubt due to the surge of blood her heart was putting out as it thumped wildly in her chest.

Midori hung her head and swallowed a groan as the train lurched to a halt at the next subway station. As passengers pressed towards the doors, the lady with her bony elbow advanced once more, right back into Midori’s poor ribs. Midori drew her breath in sharply, then wished she hadn’t as she got another nose-full of the pungent fish.

"You poor thing," she heard a soft, warm voice say.

Midori turned her head towards the voice and saw a short, middle aged woman with curly hair staring sympathetically at her.

"I know it’s not much," she said quietly, "but why don’t you switch places with me? I’m a little closer to the door and the air is a bit fresher over here."

Midori gave her a grateful smile but started to decline, not wanting to subject such a sweet lady to the elbow wedged against her. "That’s awfully kind of you, but I don’t think -,"

"Don’t you worry about a thing," the kindly woman soothed, her sharp eyes not missing the elbow. "You’re being much too polite." She smiled expectantly and took a step toward Midori.

Midori didn’t know how to further decline without sounding ungrateful so after a brief hesitation, she too moved forward and the two women exchanged places. Amazingly, just moving those few feet did make a difference, and she was able to take a deep breath without wanting to gag. Physically she felt so much better, but she couldn’t help feeling guilty about switching until she watched the little lady maneuver around for a few moments, blocking the fish woman with her umbrella and her shopping bag so that she was safe from the elbow. After she was securely settled she turned and winked at Midori.

"See? I’ve got the right kind of armor!"

Midori smiled warmly at her. "Thank you so much."

The little lady waved it airily away. "I’m glad to do it. I can remember when I was pregnant with my first born – " she reminisced, "- how ill I would get just from the slightest smells."

Midori’s smile quickly extinguished itself in a look of alarm.

"Oh, no, ma’am," Midori stuttered in a rush, "I think you’ve misunderstood. I’m not pregnant. I’ve just been under feeling under the weather these past few days." Midori’s voice faded out but the old woman didn’t seem to notice.

"Oh my dear, I’m sorry. My mistake!" the lady cried in embarrassment.

"No, no, it’s quite all right," Midori assured in a hollow tone, experiencing a strange icy feeling beginning to trickle through her, "it’s a mistake anyone could have made."

Anyone but me, she thought, the cold sensation spreading. Was it possible? Is that why I feel so ill? she wondered, her hand coming up to clutch at her throat. The train slowed to a stop once more and Midori forced a smile to her lips.

"Well, this is where I get off," she said in an unsteady voice. Her strained smile stayed in place only long enough for her to wave goodbye and exit the train. As the doors closed behind her and the train started up once again, Midori slowly made her way across the train platform towards the stairs leading out of the station, oblivious to the irritated looks of people bumping into her shoulders as they scurried around her on their way out.

Concentrating hard, her brow knit into a frown as she mentally tried to calculate when her last period had been. After a few frustrating moments, she gave up. She just couldn’t remember. She’d always been irregular, so she never kept close track of when it came. She had medication that was supposed help, but she was usually too lazy and too busy to bother with it and would just usually wait until it came on its own. She’d never had any reason to worry about if and when it finally showed up. Not until now, that is.

Dear God, came the silent plea, please don’t let it be true. Her steps suddenly quickened. There was a small pharmacy just outside the station. She would stop and get a pregnancy test, she thought, but with every passing minute the icy dread inside her was intensifying, coalescing into a prickling sensation at the back of her neck, making her feel as if she was being observed. Midori knew it was just her emotions getting the better of her, but she also knew that if she was pregnant, she could be in serious trouble.

Reaching the top of the railway steps, Midori paused and looked up. It was nearly dark. There would be no moon tonight and the TAC had been put on high alert, watching for the return of the Tengugaki. On instinct, she reached into her purse, and pulled out her cell phone, but realized immediately that she couldn’t use it. The battery had gone dead.

After a very short debate, Midori rushed past the pharmacy without stopping. With the coming of night, her safest choice was to get home as quickly as possible. If she wasn’t pregnant, then there was nothing to worry about, but if she was – then a pregnancy test wasn’t going to matter once it got dark…

"Oh yes," Momiji mumbled distractedly, and she slid the piece of paper across the desk, thinking, as she did so, of how glad she would be to get back to the basement where she was shielded from the dark presence of Tengugaki energy.

Stifling a shiver, she crossed her arms in front of her, wondering how Kusanagi could stand being subjected to such an intensely evil energy for so long without it affecting his ability to think and act coolly when for her, being exposed to it for just a few minutes totally unnerved her.

Unaware of Momiji’s preoccupation, the clerk studied her acquisition form for a few seconds and then gave Momiji a puzzled look. "I thought these kinds of ceramic bracelets had been deemed hazardous."

Hmm?... oh, we-e-e-l-l-l… not exactly."

Momiji was slow in responding because she was preoccupied with casting looks over her shoulder to see if there was something lurking down the hall. There’s nothing there, silly, she told herself firmly. This is the most secure location in all of Tokyo. As she turned around to face the clerk, she caught him looking at her strangely and she knew how paranoid her behavior must seem. After a few more surreptitious looks, Momiji finally realized that she was making the clerk uncomfortable, so she deliberately leaned her elbows against the high counter and folded her hands in front of her, making it virtually impossible for her to indulge herself in looking for phantoms that weren’t there.

Pasting what she hoped was a pleasant expression onto her face, she attempted to focus all of her attention into watching as the clerk searched for the correct bin number where the bracelets were housed and cast around for a way to undo the awkward silence her behavior had elicited.

"You know the bracelets on the acquisition form are not the originals," she remarked, feeling a small spurt of satisfaction at sounding so normal despite the clamoring need to turn around and stare in the other direction... "Ms. Matsudaira had a larger pair made from the specs of the smaller ones. She’s done a great deal of quantitative analysis with the data and she’s almost certain that they can be used without any detrimental effects – for a fully developed Aragami, that is."

With a feeling of relief, Momiji watched the clerk pull down a small bin and head back over to the counter. Five minutes, tops, and she would be on her way back to the basement where she knew there were no Tengugaki vibes lurking around.

Carefully placing the bin on the counter, the clerk grunted at her comments. "Almost certain there’ll be no detrimental effects?" he half-snorted. "If it were me, I’d want to be one hundred percent – what if it caused irreversible damage? – I mean, really irreversible, like you’re your head exploding or something? - It’d be too late afterwards to say ‘Oops… guess we should’ve tested them a bit more, eh?’ All I can say is I’m glad I’m not Aragami – speaking of which, who’s the unlucky one to get the role of guinea pig? The dark-haired scary looking guy, or Mr. Kusanagi?" He slid a pink sheet of paper towards her. "Sign here, please," he requested while he waited for her to respond to his question.

Hearing Murakumo being described as scary brought a slight smile to her lips as Momiji scribbled her name across the bottom of the sheet and handed it back to the clerk.

"Kusanagi is the last person in the world to allow himself to be used as a guinea pig; but yes, he’s one of the ones that will be using them. He’s been working alongside the, erm, ‘scary one’ who’ll be using them as well, and I can almost guarantee that if they haven’t made each other’s heads explode just from the sheer frustration of having to be together, I doubt the bracelets are going to cause it to happen either. "

"One can always hope," the clerk sighed and Momiji blinked at his words not quite sure if he meant he hoped that they would or wouldn’t explode. She took it to mean the latter when he added, "Wish Mr. Kusanagi good luck for me!"

"Okay," Momiji replied, as he handed the small plastic bag with the ceramics in it to her.

She thanked him and bade him farewell, waving over her shoulder as she sped towards the waiting elevator. She quickly stepped onto it, pushing the button for the basement with her free hand, and just as the doors closed, her cell phone rang. Digging into her pocket to retrieve it, she answered it and was surprised by the agitated sound of her best friend’s voice.

"Thank god! I was afraid you didn’t have your cell phone with you. I called Matsu, but she’d said she’d sent you to retrieve the experimental ceramics."

"What’s wrong?" Momiji asked sharply, knowing just from the sound of her friend’s voice that something was amiss, belatedly adding, "I just picked them up and I’m on my way back to Matsu now."

"Momiji, I, I need to tell you..." Midori paused in trepidation, and Momiji tensed. "I – I don’t know for sure, but I think I might be pregnant."

Momiji felt her face blanch. Her mouth fell open and for one awful moment her brain ceased functioning.

"You’re… you’re late?" she managed in a hollow voice as she tried to pull herself together.

"Well, I can’t really tell – I’ve never been regular," Midori replied falteringly, "I’ve gone as long as three months without having a period."

Momiji closed her eyes, and with her fingers she rubbed at the crease forming between her eyes. "But how long has it been since your last one, though?"

"Six weeks," Midori replied heavily. "It’s not the longest I’ve ever gone without having one, but it’s long enough for the nausea I’ve been experiencing to be symptomatic of something besides a stomach virus."

"You’re right," Momiji agreed, immediately stepping forward and pressing the button for the lobby.

"M-momiji, what should I do?" The uncertainty in Midori’s voice was tempered with fear, and the shadowy form of the Tengugaki which Momiji had feared since she’d left the basement began to coalesce into a reality.

"Where are you now? Are you at home?" Momiji asked, trying hard to set aside the dark emotions roiling around her insides so she could think.

"Yes. I wasn’t sure what I should do. Should I come back to the lab -?" Midori began.

"No! Don’t do that," Momiji urgently advised, "the subway tunnels aren’t safe, especially now that there’s no moon. When the Tengugaki start to reappear, I’m sure that’s one of the first places they’ll start showing up."

They seem to favor the tunnels over other areas of the city because of their complete darkness. More than once, Kusanagi and Murakumo had tracked them from the city down into the tunnels and if Midori was pregnant with Murakumo’s child, the subway was the last place she needed to be.

"Stay where you are. I’ll come and get you," Momiji told Midori quickly as she tucked the ceramic bracelets inside the pocket of her slacks.

There was a pause before Midori spoke again. She didn’t want to make things sound worse than they already did, but something prompted her to say, "Please hurry, Momiji. I know it’s probably just my imagination, but on the way home from the station, I felt like I was being followed."

"It’s not unusual to feel that way when you’re scared," Momiji struggled to hearten her as she stepped forward and frantically began jabbing the lobby button as if it would make the elevator go faster. "I’m on my there now and as soon as I get off the phone with you, I’ll call for reinforcements. So try not to worry. Everything’s going to be okay..."

Midori quietly accepted her words and Momiji heard her draw in her breath, her voice uneven despite her efforts to the contrary as she said, "Keep your cell phone on, Momiji."

"I will," Momiji replied at once, trying to keep the tone of her voice calm and reassuring.

She hesitated a long moment before hanging up. It was as if maintaining that connection between them would somehow keep her friend safe. But Momiji didn’t have a choice. She needed to sound the alert. She needed to get help. And the two people most capable of helping her at the moment were the most difficult to contact.

She would have to rely on other members of the TAC and pray that they could find Kusanagi and Murakumo since neither man carried any kind of communication device due to the hazardous distraction that a cell phone or pager might create when they needed their concentration the most. Though it hurt to do so, Momiji finally disconnected from Midori and quickly began dialing Mr. Kunikida’s number. He was her best hope of finding the two Aragami men. Even if Mr. Kunikida didn’t know where they were, he could probably find them quicker than anyone else since he was at the head of all TAC communications. Before Momiji could finish dialing the number though, her phone started chirping again.

It was Matsudaira with more disturbing news.

"Momiji, I’ve just received a report from Mr. Kunikida. He’s informed me that Kusanagi is sensing an enormous mass of Tengugaki energy" the scientist began without preamble. "-- Something Yaegashi has just been able to confirm with the TLTS System. At the moment it’s all underground, coming towards where they’ve stationed themselves at Tokyo Bay, just south of the Maihama Train Station. I know the testing hasn’t been completed on the bracelets yet, but we need to get them down to the Bay right away. Have you gotten them from back from Containment yet?"

While Matsu was speaking, Momiji had experienced a short lived sensation of relief as she realized that finding Murakumo and Kusanagi was going to be easier than she’d first expected. But it was almost immediately crushed by the urgency of everything else and the knot that had begun to form in Momiji’s stomach during her conversation with Midori just expanded to twice the size.

"I’m on the elevator now and I have the bracelets in my pocket–" Momiji began.

"Good. Take them to the front desk in the lobby. Someone from the Ground Defense Force should be arriving shortly to get them."

"We have another problem besides that one," Momiji blurted out. "I need to keep the bracelets -"

"- That’s not an option," Matsu returned abruptly, "I’ve already been informed that your orders are to stay here where it’s safe. I need to call Midori and tell her not to leave her apartment as well. I truly didn’t expect things to be happening on such a large scale so quickly. Otherwise I would never have let her go home in the first place -"

"- Midori thinks she might be pregnant, Matsu," Momiji cut in loudly, trying to override the torrent of Matsu’s words.

As soon as Momiji’s words penetrated, the line between them went completely silent, and Momiji thought for a moment that she’d lost the connection.

"A-are you still there?"

"Yes – I’m – here," Matsu replied faintly.

"I’ve got to go and get her, Matsu. She thinks she was followed home from the subway station, and if what you’re saying is true, then the Tengugaki will head straight for her! I need you to try and contact Mr. Kunikida and tell him to warn Kusanagi and Murakumo about what’s happened –"

"No, Momiji!" Matsu refused adamantly. "You must stay here! Those are direct orders from Mr. Kunikida. You can leave the bracelets at the front desk for the Ground Defense Force. I can call up there right now and tell them there’s been a change of plans and have the team member from the Force go and pick up Midori."

"That will take too long!" Momiji argued stubbornly, "I don’t want to sit around here waiting for someone knowing that Midori’s life could be in danger!"

"Momiji Kusanagi! THESE ARE DIRECT ORD –"

Matsu’s strident words were cut off when the phone was jostled out of Momiji’s hand as, with a cry of alarm, she lost her footing and went thudding to the ground. She heard the phone skid across the floor and collide with the wall as the elevator jerked to a halt, plunged into darkness as it lost power. After a dazed moment, Momiji slowly clambered to her hands and knees, and, scuttling across the floor, swept around with her fingers, searching for her phone. She found it at about the same time her forehead bashed into the protective metal guard rail that jutted two inches out from the wall.

Grimacing, with one hand poised over the sharp pain blooming in her forehead, she picked her phone up.

"Matsu?" she called in strangled accents, her voice echoing loudly in the eerie quiet around her. "Matsu, are you there?" There was no response. Momiji pushed the send button on her phone and the lcd panel lit up. It glowed bright blue for about ten seconds before extinguishing itself. "No signal –" she noted, pocketing her phone and scrambling to her feet. "The cell towers must have been affected by the black out."

She was alone; trapped in an elevator. The darkness around her seemed to pulse like a living thing; and the Tengugaki energy surrounding her pressed in on her. Momiji could feel the cold tendrils of panic begin to tighten its grip on her, overriding what little ability she had left to think. She tried to take a deep breath and regain her self-possession, attempting to push aside the whispering thoughts fed by the darkness around her. Don’t give in! she yelled at herself. Forcing her body into action, she carefully moved forward, keeping her hands stretched out in front of her until her fingers brushed against the cool metal of the door. The call box should be to the left, a steady voice from deep inside advised, you can use it to get out of here. Her heart pounding loudly in her ears, she began moving sideways, feeling her way across to the panel of numbered buttons, and then, crouching down, her fingers slid downwards until she felt the outline of the emergency call box. Hurriedly, she fumbled with the latch, yanking it open and grabbing the receiver from inside it to put it to her ear.

She waited for a moment for the line to connect.

"No!" she cried in frustration when she was met with nothing but continual silence.

"This is not happening!" she railed. "This is NOT happening!" she shrieked again through clenched teeth, banging the receiver against the side of the elevator in a fit of temper. After a moment, she heard an odd popping sound and then a clatter as the receiver flew apart under her abuse. "NOW it’s out of order," she breathed heavily, finally letting it go and listening to it clang against the wall as it dangled from its cord.

Breaking it didn’t help her situation any, but it might help the next person that had a need for it. Maintenance wouldn’t be able to ignore its condition now.

Still struggling to stay on top of her panic, she laced her fingers tightly through the hair on either side of her face, tugging hard as she pushed to her feet, trying to think of what she should do next. Stepping to the middle of the elevator she withdrew her cell phone from her pocket once more and pushed the send button. It was useless for making calls, but the blue display was bright enough to serve as a weak light for a few seconds so that she could see. Holding it up over her head, Momiji surveyed the elevator ceiling and spied the trap door at the back left corner before the light went out. Hitting the send button again, she moved to the back of the elevator and peered upwards, estimating the height and trying to formulate a plan of action. When the light went out, Momiji put it back in her pocket and edged farther into the corner, feeling for the guard rail.

It was narrow. Not the best of platforms for standing, she dubiously observed. Especially for someone who had never been the athletic type. But this was all that was left for her to try, and she didn’t have the luxury of failing; Midori’s life depended on her.

Pivoting to the left, Momiji placed her hands against the guardrails for leverage and pushed herself upwards, trying to find the other guardrails along the conjoined wall with her toes. Pushing and kicking, she tried to climb, but the soles of her shoes were slick and any height she got from her kicks was lost as soon as her feet made contact with the smooth surface of the elevator wall. Twice she surged upwards, painfully catching the back of her heel against the thin metal guard rail and twice the soles of her shoes skidded down the wall. Out of breath, a blunt throbbing at the back of her ankle, Momiji stopped for a moment, her hands shaking as she put them over her eyes.

"Kusanagi," she whispered jerkily, with a burgeoning feeling of desperation. "Please, you have to get there…"

If she couldn’t get out, he would be her only hope. But he was preoccupied with the trouble that was heading towards Tokyo Bay, came the tremulous thought, trapped in a far worse predicament that you are. And if the regular phone lines were out the same as the power and the cell towers, then there was no assurance that Matsu would be able to get in touch with anyone from the TAC.

So there was no one else.

She was the only one.

And If she didn’t find a way to do this, then...

The image of slimy fangs and red-slitted eyes flashed through her mind and a shudder racked her body, a strangled whimper rising in her throat.

She couldn’t let it come to that. She wouldn’t let it come to that, she told herself vehemently. Dropping her hands from her face, she sank to the floor and pulled her shoes off. Hastily discarding them she hurriedly rolled her stockings down and clambered back to her feet, barely aware of the chilled linoleum as she felt for the rails one more time. Pushing hard, she managed to get one foot up on the wall this time and she gave a strained cry of success.

Because the bottom of her feet were clammy, they didn’t slide the way her shoes had, so she was able to press her weight against her leg and raise her other foot slowly without skidding back to the ground. By now, her arms were shaking in an effort to keep her body in its awkward, vertical position, her elbows threatening to buckle as she painstakingly moved her leg higher.

She held her breath as the strain on her arms became almost unbearable, the blood pounding in her face as she clumsily caught her toe against the opposing guard rail. Then, with a whoosh, she let her breath out as she quickly brought her other foot up to perch against the rail, not quite believing that she’d managed to get all the way off the floor. Huffing and puffing in a vertical crouch, bent at the waist with her rear the highest point of her body, she shifted, backwards, cautiously balancing the majority of her weight onto her feet, taking a few seconds to let the ache in her arms ebb away before trying anything else.

When the burning in her muscles had eased considerably, she leaned forwards again, trying to keep her weight centered as she moved first one hand and then the other from the rail to the wall. Alarmingly, she felt herself begin to wobble, her body in danger of tilting sideways and she jockeyed around, trying to slide her feet apart to keep herself from falling. A few tense seconds later, she managed it, and was able to use her palms to slowly walk herself up to a more upright position.

Still leaning against the wall, she lifted one arm over her head and felt for the trap door, giving it a firm shove and listening to it clatter against the elevator roof as she managed to dislodge it. A giddy laugh bubbled up inside her. I’ve done it! I’ve actually done it! she thought in elation. Pulling herself up out of the elevator cabin was relatively easy in comparison to standing on the guard rails inside, but she still felt the need to rest a moment as she crawled onto the dusty roof. Sitting back on her heels, Momiji wiped the back of her hand against her brow which had become damp with perspiration and then reached into her pocket for her phone.

Hitting the send button, she held it out in front of her, the blue light feebly illuminating the maintenance ladder in the narrow channel to the left of the main elevator shaft.

"Piece of cake," she muttered, still sweating and breathless.

Slowly getting to her feet and activating the light on her phone one more time to help her find her way, she trekked cautiously across the elevator roof, curling her toes in disgust every time she felt the crunch of old, dried-up bugs beneath her feet as she edged towards the ladder. With what felt like an inch of bug-guts stuck to her feet, she finally swung herself onto the cold iron rungs that scaled the wall. With a feeling of revulsion, she scraped her feet against the metal as she tried to dislodge all the little pieces, wishing that she had had the foresight to tuck her shoes into her pockets.

– Not that they would have fit, she thought wryly, giving up after a few seconds when most of the pieces refused to come off. Knowing that she didn’t have time to be squeamish, she wrapped her fingers more securely around the rungs and carefully made her way down the dark ladder, feeling relieved when she felt cold concrete beneath her feet. Turning in a slow circle with her phone held out in front of her, Momiji found the outer elevator doors to her right and a steel hinged door to her left. She didn’t know if she had the strength to pry open the elevator doors, and thankfully, she wasn’t going to have to try because the door to the left was unlocked.

Yanking it open, she went through it and pulled up short in the pitch blackness that met her, unsure of where she was now. Her little blue light didn’t illuminate anything but a concrete floor in the few feet surrounding her and it took her a moment to realize that she was in the parking garage instead of the emergency stairwell to the lobby where she thought the maintenance door would lead.

But this is good, she told herself. Better than the lobby, because this was just exactly where she wanted to be. The TAC’s mobile unit was down here, and it should have just about anything she might need in it – including a spare set of keys to start it. It took her a few moments to locate the white van, stumbling around in the dark with just her phone light to guide her. It took her a few minutes more once she got inside to locate the keys which where stashed above the driver’s side visor. She didn’t remember jamming the keys into the ignition or starting the van, but before she knew it, she found herself outside on the street and –

Stuck.

Traffic had come to a complete standstill due to the fact that all the traffic lights weren’t working. Pounding on the steering wheel, she yelled in frustration. She didn’t have time for this!! Unbuckling her seatbelt, she ducked into the back of the van and rummaged around. There was a case of hand grenades – which were of absolutely no use to her - a flare gun with four extra flares, some electronic equipment including a two way radio and a nine millimeter handgun with six extra clips. Momiji hurriedly grabbed up the radio, clipping it to her belt, even though she wasn’t sure if she would have a use for it, and then shoved the flare gun and nine millimeter in the waistband of her pants, before scooping up the extra flares and clips and stashing them in her pockets. Returning to the driver seat, she maneuvered the van to the curbside, pulled the keys from the ignition, locked the van up and then scrambled out.

Even though the buildings around her were all dark, the streets were well lit by the headlights of the cars lining the avenues and she was able to begin jogging along the sidewalk looking for a bike without fear of smacking into a signpost or lamppost. But Momiji hadn’t been the only one to abandon her car, and as she continued to move forward, she realized that she wasn’t the only one looking for a bike either – any bike not chained down – and probably some that were – had already been taken by stranded motorists or those that they belonged to.

Still Momiji refused to give up and she kept looking, dodging around the people milling in confusion along the sidewalks. The sound of intermittent car horns punctuated their speculation as to what could have caused such a widespread black out, but Momiji didn’t need to speculate; already knew, deep inside terrified that one of the ones responsible for the darkness was already skulking along the streets, heading, unimpeded, in the same direction that she was trying to go, it’s slimy fangs bared, eager to attain the hybrid child that no one had known about. This thought alone kept Momiji moving, even when the bottom of her feet began to throb from the pounding they were taking and her lungs started to burn from lack of oxygen. But try as she might, she knew she couldn’t keep running when a few minutes later, a stitch developed in her side as she struggled to draw air into her lungs, and her pace became staggered, her muscles tightening painfully, refusing to work any longer.

"I’m – I’m not going to – make it," she gasped, her desperation to get to Midori becoming tinged with despair.

Then she saw him - the biker from hell – and she knew she couldn’t have asked for a more timely gift from heaven.

He was sitting in traffic, his tangled, greasy hair falling around a weather beaten face on which was carved a stoned expression. What parts of his body that weren’t covered in leather were tattooed, pierced or adorned with spiked jewelry and had circumstance been different, she would never have considered approaching him since he looked capable of ripping her to pieces and picking his teeth with her bones. But circumstances demanded desperation, and desperation is what she felt. It was what drove her to make a beeline directly towards this hell’s angel, and what made her open her mouth to brazenly engage him in conversation.

"Can I borrow your bike?" she panted, still having trouble catching her breath.

The biker looked blankly at her, the halogen lights of the cars around them bouncing off the thin circles of gold adorning his ears, nose and bottom lip. "What?" he asked, giving her an incredulous look.

"Your bike," Momiji repeated, her finger pointing to the handlebars, "can I borrow it?"

The last part of her question was drowned out by his raucous laughter and he twisted his wrist, revving up the bike’s engine.

"That’s what I thought you said," he smirked and then, with a nasty look, he sneered, "Get lost, bitch!"

His sneer didn’t last long, however, as she whipped out the nine millimeter from her waistband and held it in front of his nose. His bloodshot eyes rounded in alarm, swinging from the barrel to the determined glint in her eye.

"I’m sorry," Momiji mouthed politely, "but that’s not the answer I need."

The look of alarm remained for a few more seconds before it wavered and his eyes narrowed, hardening again.

"You don’t look like the kind of chick capable of pulling that trigger," he jeered.

"You would be surprised of what I’m capable of when pushed, mister," Momiji said tartly. "I may not shoot you," she retorted, swinging the gun away from his face and aiming it towards the bike, "but I have no problems with shooting your bike if you won’t let me use it." The biker just stared at her in a dazed way and so she added, "look, I really need it – if you won’t lend it to me, at least give me a ride – I’ll make it worth your while –" she bargained, "Sixty thousand yen."

The man’s mouth fell open for a second and then snapped shut as he eyed her cynically. "Let me see the money," he told her.

"I – I don’t have it with me," she said hesitantly, the gun still pointed towards the bike, "but I can get it – "

"Sure you can, sweetheart," he agreed sarcastically.

"I work for the government," Momiji interrupted him, pulling the TAC badge free from her shirt where it was clipped and waving it towards him, "and this is a government emergency. Believe me, I can get it." she reiterated confidently, her gaze remaining fixed on the man’s face as he took the badge from her and looked at it, shooting her a speculative look before handing it back to her. Please, please, please, she silently begged him while he debated and then held her breath when he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"Make it a hundred thousand and you’ve got yourself a deal."

"Done!" Momiji cried, tucking the gun back into its hiding place and reattaching her badge.

"Well climb on," the man said and waited for Momiji to comply.

Momiji clumsily clambered onto the back of the bike, grabbed the rear part of the seat to brace herself and then said, "Okay, go!"

But the biker didn’t go.

"You’re gonna have to put your arms around me, missy, unless you wanna fall off once we get going," he threw over his shoulder at her.

She already knew this, having ridden many, many times on the back of Kusanagi’s bike, but in this case, it was something she had been hoping to avoid.

"Oh… O - okay," Momiji replied reluctantly, dubiously eyeing the expanse of black leather that stretched across the biker’s back. It was scarred with age and looked none too clean, which wasn’t surprising considering the smell that was coming from him. Feeling more than a little strange to be wrapping her arms around the waist of a man other than her husband, Momiji finally breathed in a choked voice, "Okay, I’m ready," as she tried not to get a good whiff of him.

The biker nodded briefly and then revved the bike’s engine, nudging his way out of traffic and onto the sidewalk before asking, "So where are we heading?"