Dreamer Awakened

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

 

            Momiji didn’t think that she would be able to sleep at all that night.  Not after what had happened between her and Kusanagi.  But much to her surprise, the minute her head hit the pillow, she was sound asleep, her body tiring easily as it struggled to heal itself.  Her peaceful slumber did not last though, becoming plagued with troublesome dreams and visions.

Outside the rain began to steadily increase in intensity through the night, pattering against the roof and windows and so did the voices of her dreams, and Momiji writhed, trying to escape them, the cries of terror and pain twisting inside her.  Beyond her window, there was only the rain, but within her mind, there was a roar like thunder and Momiji was jerked awake.  She lay panting, her body bathed in perspiration, her eyes staring unseeing up at the ceiling.

            “It’s coming,” she mumbled breathlessly, her eyes glazed in fear, she sat up, unaware of her surroundings.  “Oh, god, it’s coming,” she said again, her voice full of terror and dread as she slid from her bed and crossed the darkened room. 

            Momiji moved automatically, her fear driving her forward as her mind closed in on itself, hearing only the cries of anguish and the roar that caused them.  Momiji skittered down the stairs and opened the door.  Stepping out into the cold rain in her bare feet, she moved forward, leaving the door open behind her, drawn by some unseen force.

            “It’s coming,” she whispered frantically, unaware that she spoke.   

Unfeeling of the rain that drenched her flannel nightgown and the cold ground beneath her feet, Momiji began to run.  Her chestnut braid slapping wetly against her back, she veered from the street into the trees.  Her breathing became sharp and painful and the stony ground cut into her feet, and yet she felt nothing.  She was jerked to an abrupt halt by the sound of a scream rending the air, the same scream she had been hearing in her dream.  It was followed by the fury of a roar and as it echoed around her, Momiji became frantic, her legs mechanically jolting forward toward the sound.

“Too late,” she sobbed, as the screams ceased, leaving nothing but the roar.  “No!! No!!! Akiko!!” she shrieked in denial.  She stumbled, tripping over a stone and fell, sliding down a steep sloping embankment that came to an end near the back yard of a small house. 

Panting hard, Momiji lay face down against the rain soaked ground, her gown ripped and torn, bleeding from the cut above her eyebrow that had reopened when she fell.  She could hear it, the sound of its hollow breathing as it readied itself to feed upon its victim.  In the background, Momiji could hear the sound of a small dog, Kebooru, barking just a few feet away from where her master lay.  Momiji tried to push herself up, but her arms and legs were shaking, too weak to support her weight and she subsided against the ground, closing her eyes.  The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she felt it sense her presence, and she experienced the same feeling she had had that day at the iwatto.

Run! Her brain screamed at her, but Momiji’s body was spent, unable to obey the command.  Still gasping for air, she raised her head with effort, the blood from her cut stinging her eyes as it trickled downwards to mingle with the rain dripping down her face in rivulets.  Squinting through the rain and darkness, she saw Akiko lying bloodied and motionless on the ground, and next to her,  the hunched over body of a creature.  Momij’s mouth went dry with fear and her stomach twisted at the sight of it. 

It wasn’t human, but humanoid in form, with long arms and legs and an emaciated body.  Its skin was a mottled yellowish brown like that of rotting leaves and it shimmered in the rain.  It had a elongated, skeletal head with long horns curving sharply towards its back.  Its skin was stretched taughtly across its face, which appeared gaunt and hollow, with nothing but slits for a nose and a wide, gaping mouth.  It’s sunken eyes were cat-like, red with black slits, and centered in its forehead was a black mitama.  It bared its bloodied fangs at her and hissed, turning away from Akiko.  It slowly stalked her, moving on all fours, until it was just a few feet away.  Then it crouched low to the ground, readying its strike.  Raising its arm, it flexed its long claws,  threw back its head and with a roar leapt forward.  Its cry reverberated around her like the crash of thunder.   

“Kusanagi!” Momiji screamed, covering her head with her arms, as the claws came sweeping down, arching towards her face.

 

“How can this be?  I don’t understand,” Kaede said, distressed. 

Susano-oh tried to soothe her, but knew that the situation was grave.  “Its powers grow,” he observed solemnly, “I had not expected it to be able to summon the others so quickly.”

My lord,” Kaede’s agitation became more marked and she grabbed her husband’s arm, “what is she doing?  Momiji!” she called, but her sister was beyond her hearing, driven by the strong need to protect.  “Lord Susano-oh,” Kaede begged, desperate, “you must stop her!”

Susano-oh closed his eyes and concentrated, seeking the flow of power from the blue souls.  He dared not do more than this now that there was more than the one.  He must leave it to Kusanagi to protect her this time.

“Call to him, Kaede,” he whispered as his soul reached out and touched those he was seeking.  “Help him to find her.”

 

 

Kusanagi sat up, the sheet falling from his bare chest to his waist.  His body was on fire, his mitamas glowing brightly in the darkened room.  “Not again!” He groaned, doubling over, but straightening almost immediately as the pain subsided and the glow faded.  “What the hell?” he muttered. 

Throwing off the sheet he climbed out bed.  He had been dreaming about Kaede.  Why?  He thrust his hand through his sleep - tousled hair, and rubbed at the tensed muscles at the back of his neck. Kusanagi hadn’t thought about Kaede - hadn’t dreamed about her in over three years.  Yet when he had awoken, her image had been clearly etched in his mind.  Why?  The answer came swiftly and unexpectedly as if it had been whispered to him.  Momiji.

Kusanagi turned then, and, dressed in nothing but his shorts, quietly left the room, heading straight for Momiji’s room.  He stopped in her doorway and swore softly.  She wasn’t there.  Turning swiftly and re-crossing the hall, he headed for the top of the stairs, yelling her name.  There was no answer.  He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down into the darkness below.  All was quiet and unmoving, a cold draft drifting up from the room below and settling in his chest right around his heart.  He called her name again, and again there was no answer.  With swift steps his feet carried him down the steps where he stopped dead, looking at the open door.

“Oh, god, Momiji.”  He breathed, going to the door and looking out. 

She was nowhere to be seen.  As quickly as he could, he was back up the stairs in his room, throwing on his black jeans, not even sparing the time to put on a shirt.  He climbed out the window and jumped to the soggy ground below.  He called her name, his voice echoing through the silence.  A panic began to rise inside him.  He had to find her, and quickly.  His fear was blocking his ability to sense her and he tried to control it, but couldn’t, knowing the only reason she would have come out here was if something had drawn her here.  He swore again, setting off toward the trees at the back of the house. 

“No.” 

Kusanagi stopped and whirled around, expecting to see someone standing behind him.  There was no one.  He turned again, but was stopped yet again, this time, the voice more distinct, more familiar.

“No, Kusanagi.”

Kusanagi jerked around, his eyes darting around him.  “Kaede!” he yelled, knowing her voice.  “Where is she, Kaede!”

Nothing but the sound of rain in the silence met his demand, and then, coming from the distance, as if to show him, he heard Kaede’s voice answer, “This way.”  He shot forward, moving quickly, his feet barely touching the ground, following Kaede’s voice into the street and then through the trees.

“She is not far now,” the voice urged him on, “you must hurry, Kusanagi!” and then the voice was gone, another sound rising up in its place.

It was the sound of a woman’s scream and the feral growl of an animal.  Then he heard Momiji’s voice, screaming his name and Kusanagi moved even faster, following the sound of her voice through the trees and down a steep slope.

 

Momiji’s body trembled tensely and she closed her eyes, feeling the creature’s lunge and not wanting to see it as it bore down on her.  She whimpered and felt strong hands jerk her up by the waist, pulling her from the ground and then away from the path of the creature. 

“Kusanagi!” Momiji’s voice trembled as she looked up into his furious face.

“You stupid little fool!”  He lashed out, setting her to her feet near the fallen body of a young woman, where she promptly slithered to the ground, her legs still too weak to support her.  “What the hell are you doing out here?”  He didn’t wait for her answer but turned away to face the creature, its gaze centered hungrily upon him.  Kusanagi stepped in front of Momiji, and flexed his hands, the blades in his arms becoming unsheathed.

Kusanagi stared at the creature with the black mitama, watching it rise from all fours to stand on its legs.  It extended its arms, flexed them in much the same manner that Kusanagi had, its skin stretching outward, a ridge of hard, serrated spikes appearing from its wrist to its elbows.  Its red and black eyes stared at Kusanagi and it made a gurgling noise as if it was laughing at him. 

“What the hell kind of Aragami are you?”  He said in disgust and bolted towards it his blades extended, ready to strike.

It was quicker than he had anticipated and it evaded his blow easily, jumping to the side as Kusanagi skidded to a halt and turned to face it again.  Its mouth twisted, and it bared its teeth, showing two rows of sharp fangs, one set inside of the other. Bloodied saliva dripped in long strings from its mouth and it made that gurgling laughing sound again, its breath rasping loudly in its throat.

Then it spoke, surprising him, its voice a multiple layer of sounds.  “Come and kill me if you can, little man,” it taunted, crouching low to the ground. 

Kusanagi sneered, his face twisting in hatred, “It will be my pleasure!” 

He leapt forward again, his arm slashing sharply downward towards the creature’s body, but all his blade met with was air as the creature again evaded his attack, quickly sliding by him towards where Momiji lay.   Kusanagi cursed.  He had made a grievous error in allowing it to get past him and now Momiji lay exposed, vulnerable with nothing between her and the creature. 

Instead of lunging after Momiji, however, the creature turned its back to her and gazed with red eyes at Kusanagi.

“You are not all you appear to be, little man,” it laughed softly, “you are not completely human.”  It took a step towards Kusanagi, its eyes bright with hunger.  “I smell the power of our evolution flowing though your veins.  Come!  I shall claim that power for myself!” it snarled, leaping forward, its claws slicing through the muscle of his shoulder before he could dodge it.

“Kusanagi!”  Momiji screamed, seeing the green blood running freely down Kusanagi’s arm and chest.

“Like hell, you will!” Kusanagi sneered, turning even as the claws ripped across him and struck a blow that the creature could not avoid, slicing cleanly through its arm.

The creature reared back, its horns almost touching its back as it howled in pain, dark blood pouring from its severed arm.  Holding its truncated arm against its body, it leaped away from Kusanagi as he tried to strike a lethal blow, landing near the steep sloping bank.  Kusanagi started after it, but it retreated out of his reach, crouching down and quickly burrowing into the soft, muddy soil.  Kusanagi held his hand against his lacerated and throbbing shoulder, and watched it disappear, the earth closing up after it.  He walked to the soft mound of earth and touched it with his bare toe, a frown of frustration on his face.  He couldn’t go after it. 

Instead he turned, his face dark with fury, and stalked over to Momiji, who sat cradling the head of the fallen girl in her lap, a little wet rat-of-a-dog sitting next to her whimpering.  Momiji was crying in anguish, rocking back and forth and Kusanagi felt his anger drain away.  Kusanagi crouched down next to her, and looked at the girl.  He had never seen her before, but knew that Momiji knew her, for she kept calling her name. 

“Akiko,” Momiji cried over and over, and then looked up at Kusanagi, her eyes spilling over with tears of pain.  “I tried to get here in time,” she sobbed, “but I couldn’t!  I couldn’t stop it!”

Kusanagi looked closely at the girl.  The Aragami had mangled her badly, her arm bearing a grisly wound where it had been ripped open by the Aragami’s teeth and deep gashes running across her stomach from the creature’s long claws.  Blood oozed from the deep wounds across her stomach and seeped down covering Momiji’s lap.  The girl was still alive, but barely.  Kusanagi gently picked her limp body up and looked down at Momiji.

“I need to go for help.  Can you stand on your own?” Momiji nodded and clambered shakily to her feet while Kusanagi issued her some orders, “Go into her house, and lock the doors.  Stay there until I get back.”  Momiji nodded her understanding, and jumped a little when he said sharply, “I mean it, Momiji.  You’d better be locked in here when I get back,” he snarled, afraid that she might take some hare-brained notion and go wandering off again.

 Momiji nodded again, picked up the little dog and scrambled towards the door.  Kusanagi waited until the door was closed and he heard the bolt slide into place before he took off.  Momiji put Kebooru to the floor and  watched Kusanagi leave, praying that he would be able to save Akiko.  Momiji began to shake all over, finally feeling the wet and the cold.  She looked down at her flannel teddy bear nightgown and fingered the grimy material.  It was drenched from the rain, covered in Akiko’s blood and mud from her fall down the embankment, and shredded in several places up to her knees.  Momiji dropped the material from her fingers and it slapped wetly against her thigh. 

She really should call Mr. Kunikida, she thought to herself and on numb feet, she stumbled over to the phone and dialed her mother’s number, hoping that he was there.  He was and their conversation was brief and to the point.  Shortly after she hung up she heard a car pull up outside the house.  It was Mr. Kunikida and Ryoko.  She opened the door for them.

Kunikida took one look at her at said, “My god, Momiji, are you all right?”  he asked, taking his coat off and draping it over her shoulders.

Momiji mumbled that she was fine and went on to  tell him what happened as they made their way to the kitchen and out the back door where the attack had taken place.  As she spoke, Mr. Kunikida walked around the yard, noting the soft pile of earth near the embankment and stooping to look at the severed limb of the Aragami.

“So Kusanagi was right,” Mr. Kunikida noted, again looking at the soft pile of earth, “this thing can travel underground.”

Momiji shot a startled look at Mr. Kunikida.  “You mean Kusanagi knew about this? How?”

Mr. Kunikida stood up, and said reluctantly, “I told him.  He met me yesterday afternoon at another attack site in Wakasa.  I needed his opinion as to what it could be.”

“He didn’t tell me,” Momiji said faintly and then, in a more accusing manner, “you didn’t tell me.”

Mr. Kunikida came towards her, regret written on his face, not because he had failed to tell her, but because she had found out anyway.  “I’m sorry, Momiji.  Kusanagi and I thought it would be best to keep it from you until you were stronger. “

Momiji didn’t say anything, feeling too upset.  They should have told her, she thought, feeling left out and betrayed.  Mr. Kunikida took her arm and walked her back towards the kitchen where Ryoko was making some phone calls. 

“Come on,” he said, “let me take you home.”

Momiji didn’t resist, stopping only long enough to pick up Kebooru and then followed Mr. Kunikida out to the car.  They didn’t speak on the short drive to her house.  He would have lingered had Momiji let him, to make sure that she was okay, but Momiji knew how important it was for him to get back to Akiko’s and so she gave him back his coat and made him leave, assuring him in a firm voice that she would be fine on her own. 

Still he hesitated so she said, “As soon as you leave, I’m going to go upstairs and go back to bed.  I feel pretty washed out.” 

That got him moving, and he left after she promised to call him in the morning to let him know that she was okay.  She closed the door on his back, put Kebooru to the floor and, instead of heading upstairs like she had told him, she went into the kitchen to wait for Kusanagi to return.  Shuffling over to the kitchen table, she  collapsed in a chair, strong shivers suddenly wracking her body.  She clenched her teeth tightly together and huddled in the chair trying to generate some warmth. 

Hearing a whine, Momiji looked down and saw Kebooru sitting forelornly at her feet, her little flat face turned upwards towards Momiji.  She looked like a wet mop of muddy hair, and she shivered much in the same way that Momiji did.  Momiji bent down and picked her up, her little body generating a patch of warmth next to Momiji’s skin. 

“I need to go and change my clothes,” Momiji mumbled through her chattering teeth, but she stayed where she was, feeling too tired to move.  Still shivering, she dropped her head to the table and closed her eyes.  She felt so sleepy.  Perhaps if she rested for just a minute, she could muster up enough energy to go upstairs and put on some dry clothes. 

Momiji had no idea how long she had been sitting there slumped over the table, but the next thing she knew she had been removed from her chair and was being violently shaken.

“Stop, stop!” she tried to say but all that came out was a groan.

“Momiji?  Can you hear me?”  It was Kusanagi’s voice and it sounded panicked.  He shook her again, and she opened her green eyes and slowly focused on his alarmed face..

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice tense but still a little sluggish,  “Is – is Akiko going to be okay?”

“Dammit, Momiji!” he growled at her, yanking her hard against his bare chest, “I didn’t think you were going to wake up.”

“I-I’m okay,” she stuttered, and he thrust her away, still holding on to her to keep her from sliding to the floor since her legs didn’t want to seem to work properly.

“Like hell, you are!” he countered harshly, his eyes sliding from the cut on her forehead, to her white complexion and down to her tattered nightgown.  He picked her up and carried her from the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom, dumping her in the chair next to the window.

“Is Akiko going to be all right?” Momiji asked again.

Kusanagi didn’t answer her; instead, he glared down at her and pointed his finger at her. “Stay there.” And he turned and left the room, going towards the bathroom.

“Kusanagi!”  Momiji called his name several times in frustration, wanting to know about Akiko.  “Answer me!” she almost shouted, her head starting to spin from the effort.

Still there was no answer, but Kusanagi appeared a few seconds later carrying a thick fluffy towel.  

“Is she going to be okay?” Momiji asked for the third time. 

But Kusanagi still didn’t answer.  Instead he went over to her chest of drawers and began yanking open the drawers finding, first a pair of underwear covered in pink teddy bears and then in the second drawer a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants.  He slammed the drawers and stalked back over to her.  Holding up the panties he couldn’t resist saying, “so your nightgown did come with matching panties,” and was rewarded by watching the pink flood back into Momiji’s face. “Take your underwear off,” he ordered watching the color intensify in her face.

“I will not!” Momiji said in her feistiest tone and Kusanagi just rolled his eyes.

“Do you want to catch pneumonia?” he asked her impatiently, “take them off.  Now, Momiji!” and threw the panties into her lap.  He turned his back to her and heard her rustling movements as she struggled to do as he told her.  She was shaking and panting for breath by the time she was through. 

He turned back around when he heard her subside back in the chair and said, “Don’t sit back down,” reaching down and pulling her to her feet, “your gown will just get your underwear wet again.”  He handed her the towel, sweatshirt and the sweatpants, and turned back around waiting for her to use them.  Momiji managed to run the towel down her wobbly legs.  She stood back up and looked down at the thick sweatpants clutched in her fist .  She didn’t think she would be able to get them on without falling over, her knees were shaking so badly.  But what else was she supposed to do?

“Is there a problem?”  Kusanagi asked when she didn’t move, his back still to her.  “Do you need some help?”

“No!” Momiji replied quickly and lifted her right leg to slide them on. 

Just as she had feared, she went crashing to the floor, her right leg to weak to bear the entire weight of her body alone.  Kusanagi heard her hit the ground and swiveled back around, looking down at her.  She had landed on her hip and she quickly sat up, still clutching the pants in her hand and feeling extremely foolish.

“That’s going to leave a bruise,” she grimaced, rubbing her hip.

Kusinagi crouched down next to her, took the pants from her fingers, and started pushing her gown up to expose her legs.  Momiji resisted him, shoving uselessly at his hands as he shifted her gown up past her knees and stopped.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded furiously.

“I’m helping,” he stated as if it was obvious, and then, just to irritate her, “it’s not like I haven’t seen your bony legs before, Momiji.  When you wear shorts, you expose more of them than I’ve exposed just by pushing up your gown.”

“Bony!?”  Momiji breathed, outraged, “my legs are NOT bony, you jerk! – The only bony thing is this room is YOUR HEAD!!”

While she was yelling at him, he used the distraction to slide the pants onto the bottom part of her legs and yank them up to her knees.  Then leaning back, he asked dryly, “When you’re through shouting at me, princess, do you think you could manage the rest on your own?”

Momiji’s mouth compressed into a thin line, her eyes shooting daggers at him.  Taking that as a yes, he stood back up and turned his back to her.  A wicked grin curled his lips when he heard her mutter between grunts as she struggled to get the pants all the way up, still incensed, “my legs – ugh - are not – ugh – bony!” 

While his back was still turned, Momiji slid the gown over her head and dropped it to the floor where it landed with a wet thwap!  She quickly dried her chest and back and slid the warm sweatshirt over her head, then climbed back into the chair and let him know she was done. 

He turned back around then, and examined her critically.  Becoming uncomfortable under his gaze, Momiji looked away from him and, still worried about her friend, asked him about Akiko one more time.  Kusanagi didn’t say anything as he reached down and picked the towel up off the floor.  He came over to her and knelt by the chair, turning her face in his direction with his hand so that he could blot at the cut above her eye. 

She didn’t think he was going to answer her, but he eventually said, “I don’t know Momiji.  I couldn’t exactly stick around to find out – not with my shoulder the way it is.”

There was bitterness in his voice and Momiji understood then.  Green blood.  Of course he couldn’t stay.  He would have become an object of speculation; people wondering who he was or worse yet, what he was.  That was something that he would avoid at all costs.

Momiji let her eyes drift over him as he worked, noting how wet he still was and how the deep grooves in his shoulder were still oozing blood, much more so than the minor cut over her own eye.  He should be attending his own wound and not hers, she thought and she tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her.

“Be still,” he ordered, his fingers tightening on her chin.

“But you’re still bleeding,” she said, managing to twist her chin free, “let me find something to bind the wound with,” she murmured and made to stand, but found herself pushed unceremoniously back down on the chair.

“I’ll be fine,” he told her flatly, glaring starkly down at her, “unlike you.  You look like hell.”  Momji made a sour face at his words but he ignored it and continued his sudden tirade.  “You almost got yourself killed tonight.  What the hell did you think you were doing?”

Momiji opened her mouth to defend herself, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

What had she been doing?  It was a good question, and she didn’t have a very clear answer herself.  “I had to try and stop it,” she mumbled by way of explanation, her statement inflaming Kusanagi’s temper even more.

“I can’t believe you would do something so stupid as to leave the house in the middle of the night dressed in nothing but your nightgown, chasing after something that can easily slice you to ribbons. -  Are you completely nuts?” he shouted at her, his brows drawn together in a heavy frown. 

  “Well, look at you!” Momiji shrieked back, bouncing up off the chair only to be pushed right back down again, “At least my body was completely covered!  You’re not even wearing a shirt!  And I don’t see any shoes on your feet either!”

“I’m dressed this way, because I came looking for you, you stupid, little fool,” he spoke through clenched teeth, “I didn’t exactly have time to dress at leisure when I found you’d gone missing.  Hell, Momiji, don’t you realize that if I had stopped to dress in my shirt and shoes, that I might not have gotten here in time to stop that thing?”

She managed to make it to her feet and remained standing this time as she met Kusanagi’s glare with one of her own. “Well maybe if I you and Mr. Kunikida hadn’t tried to hide its existence from me, I wouldn’t have gone after it in the first place!”

“Are you saying that this is my fault!?” he demanded furiously, leaning forward, his face inches from hers and his eyes blazing with anger.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, but if you had told me about what you knew, maybe I wouldn’t have felt compelled to do what I did.”

He pointed his finger at her and snarled, “You are saying this is my fault!”

“NO I’m NOT!” she shrieked, balling her hand into a fist and squeezing her eyes shut, trying to gain some self-control. “I’m not a little girl any more, Kusanagi, despite what you and Mr. Kunikida think!  I don’t have to be coddled and protected like some kind of infant!”

Her words further enraged him and he whipped his head back, stalked away from her, and literally tore at his hair with both of his hands.  “Well if you don’t want to be treated like a baby, then quit acting like one!  Do you think tearing out of the house in the middle of the night is the responsible act of an adult!?” I swear, Momiji, your impulsive actions are enough to kill a man!” 

His words took all of the wind out of her sails and her shoulders slumped forward.  “You’re right,” she said quietly and she felt the tears start to pool in the corners of her eyes, “I can’t expect you to think of me as an adult when all I do is cause you trouble.  I didn’t even know what I was doing at first.  All I knew was that something terrible was going to happen to Akiko if I didn’t try and help her.”

Kusanagi watched in dismay as Momiji’s anger crumbled into tears.  He hated it when she cried.  It always made him feel like such a heel.  “Momiji, I –“ he began uncomfortably, but she just sniffled and turned away from him to hide the hot tears that had begun to slide down her face.

Momiji felt him put a hand to her shoulder and turn her towards him, pulling her into his embrace.  She put her cheek to his chest and closed her eyes, listening to the strong, steady sound of his heartbeat as he dropped his face against the top of her head and let his hand caress the back of her head.

“Akiko is still alive because of you, Momiji,” he said against the top of her head, “and you’re right.  I should have told you about the Aragami.  But that doesn’t change the fact that you should have never left the house on your own.”  He let her go then and stared earnestly down into her face.  “And now that we know that the Aragami have reawakened, I want you to promise me that you won’t do anything so impetuous again.”

Momiji gave her promise and sat down on her bed saying, “but, somehow, I don’t think its Aragami.” 

“I’ve never seen Aragami like that before,” he admitted, “it had a black mitama, and its blood is different than mine,”  he commented remembering the darkness that splattered across the ground when he had severed its arm.  

Kusanagi ran his hand through his hair and sat down on Momiji’s bed next to her.  He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and staring at nothing in particular, muttered,  “It was completely different from the ones we’ve fought in the past, but it has to be Aragami.  What else could it be?”

“I – I don’t know,” Momiji stammered, “but I’ve felt its presence before.”

“What?” Kusanagi asked turning sideways to look at her, “when?”

“On the day of my wreck,” she admitted thinking back to that day.  “I had gone to the iwatto to take some samples and when I came out, I felt it watching me,” she shivered a little as she remembered it, and then said slowly, as she remembered its presence that rainy night for the first time since her wreck, “I felt it again, in the car, right before I saw the priest standing in the road.  There was a great flash of light and I saw something moving across the road and into the trees.  It was big, but I never got a clear look at it.  After it ran away, the priest appeared.”

As she spoke the images of that night flickered through her mind, seeing again the blue lightning, the fleeing mass and Susano-oh standing in the road.  He must have been protecting her from it, Momiji mused.  Knowing that it had been after her, he must have frightened it away.  Did that mean that it was Aragami or was it something else?

“I know it has a mitama,” Momiji continued in a thoughtful manner “but it doesn’t feel the same as the Aragami to me.  Could you feel it in your mitamas?” she asked looking up at Kusanagi.

 Kusanagi considered her question and then slowly shook his head.   He looked down at his hands, remembering how the mitamas had woken him up from his sleep and how he had found Momiji missing.  Had they been glowing then, in response to this new creature, this new kind of Aragami?  Or was it something else that had caused them to glow, he wondered, remembering his dream of Kaede and the voice that had seemed to lead him directly to Momiji. 

His mitamas had definitely woken him up, but they hadn’t responded at all when he had confronted the creature.  Was it Aragami?  He had seen it with his own eyes, seen its mitama and yet standing in front of it, he had not felt the energy from its mitamas the way he should have.   What did it mean?

“Kusanagi,” Momiji said hesitantly breaking into his thoughts and he looked down at her.  She fidgeted uncomfortably for a few seconds, twisting her fingers in the hem of her sweatshirt, “I wanted to tell  you – I wasn’t sure if – there’s something that –“ she babbled and he cut across her words.

“What is it, Momiji?”

She clenched her teeth and grimaced, knowing that now was the time to tell him, but she was still afraid to tell him; afraid of how he’d react.  “ Do you remember when you asked me about the priest?” he nodded and she continued, “well, I kinda…sorta…it was Susano-oh,” she finally managed, and cringed, waiting for his reaction.

He got up off the bed, and went over to the window.  “I wonder what it means,” he murmured.

Momiji’s eyebrows shot up and she asked in a squeaky voice, “You mean you’re not angry?  Gee, you’re taking this so well,” she said with a relieved smile, “after all, the last time you saw Susano-oh, you were trying to kill him.”

Kusanagi just grunted and didn’t say anything.  Actually he probably wouldn’t be taking it so well if it hadn’t been for Kaede.  If it hadn’t been for Kaede, he would never have found Momiji in time.  And that meant that Susano-oh wasn’t their enemy this time.  Did that mean that the Aragami also weren’t the enemy this time.  And if they weren’t the enemy, then who was?

Kusanagi turned away from the window and looked back to where Momiji sat drooping tiredly on the bed.  “Get some rest, “ he told her and started walking towards the door, “or you’re going to get sick.”

“But, Kusanagi,” she protested watching his retreating back go through her bedroom door.

“We can talk about it in the morning, but not if you’re sick, “ he threw over his shoulder, “now go to bed.”

“All right,” she said, and then, “good night Kusanagi,” but he was already gone.