Dreamer Awakened

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

 

            Momiji rolled over, snuggling into her pillow, and felt something cold and wet snuffling against her ear.  She slowly opened her eyes, focusing on the little black and white hairy body sitting close to her face.  Kebooru, Momiji thought, and then giggled as she felt a soft tongue lap against her ear.  Momiji sat up then, and pulled the shih-tzu puppy onto her lap.  From the light streaming into her room, she surmised that it was well into morning, and a quick glance at her alarm clock confirmed it, the hands almost sitting on ten o’clock.  Momiji jumped out of bed, feeling guilty for having slept so long.

            “I bet you need to go outside, don’t you, girl,” she said, rubbing Kebooru’s little, fluffy head and then setting her gently to the floor so she could take a shower and get dressed. 

After her shower, Momiji padded back into her room where she thrust her legs into a pair of jeans and put on the same white sweater she had been wearing yesterday.  Then with a feeling of dread, she picked up her brush.  Surprisingly, it was a lot easier to manage since it wasn’t as tangled as it had been when she had first gotten home from the hospital.  Even so, she just barely managed to get the brush through it and left it hanging loose down her back, thinking how glad she would be to get her cast off. 

She made a quick call to her Mom’s house, to talk to Mr. Kunikida, and her mother, after expressing her concern for what had happened last night, told her that he wasn’t in.  Momiji hadn’t really expected him to be, so she just left a message with her mother for him.  She talked with her mother for a few more minutes and told her that she was going to go over to the hospital that afternoon and see Akiko.  Her mother offered to drive her and Momiji accepted since she had yet to replace her car.

            Then Momiji took Kebooru, who had curled up into a little ball in the middle of her bed, downstairs.  It was completely quiet downstairs and on her way through the kitchen to take the little puppy out back, Momiji noted that Kusanagi was apparently still in bed.  She stepped out into the bright sunshine and took a cleansing breath, drawing the fresh air deep into her lungs.  It was cold and windy, but at least the wind had blown away the clouds, leaving nothing but pale blue sky.  Momiji hugged her arms to her body and shivered as she watched the little puppy cavort around the yard.  After a few more minutes, Momiji called her to take her back inside, but the puppy ignored her, her little flat nose twitching as she sniffed the air. 

Momiji gave up trying to get her to come and stepped off the deck, going after her, darting in fits and starts across the yard as Kebooru, thinking it was a game, lead her on a merry chase.  She would stop long enough for Momiji to get close to her, her curly tail wagging madly, and the minute Momiji slowed her own pace to pick her up, Kebooru would be off, bounding away like a bouncing ball. 

This lasted for some minutes, until, finally out of breath, her cheeks flushed from the effort,  Momiji managed to pluck her up from the ground, receiving a lick against her cheek as thanks for such a fun game.  Momiji laughed and carried her back inside.  After rummaging around in the refrigerator for something to feed to the little dog, who sat on her haunches watching Momiji curiously, Momiji made a mental note to go by Akiko’s house and get the puppy some food later today. 

“There you go.  Breakfast is served,” she told the puppy as she put some leftover chicken in a dish and set it to the floor, jumping a foot when she heard Kusanagi’s voice.

            “Geez, Momiji,” he said, a note of complaint in his voice, and she straightened to see him leaning his shoulder against the door, watching her, “How come she gets to eat better than me?  All I got last night was that wet bag of cement.” 

Despite last night’s adventure in the rain, she looked no worse for wear, he thought as his gaze flickered over her, taking in the pink of her cheeks, the sparkle of her eyes and her totally innocent air.  She really had no idea how alluring she was, her chestnut hair aflame in the morning sun’s light and her peaches and cream complexion that looked almost good enough to eat.  He wondered if she would taste as sweet as she looked if he allowed his lips to linger there against her cheek, his body tightening as he felt the urge to find the softness of her lips and feel the warmth of her skin as he had when he had kissed her last night.  He took a steadying breath and shoved the thoughts away almost immediately.  He needed to forget about last night.  It had been a mistake to allow himself to be held in thrall by Momiji’s soft touch, and an even worse mistake to listen to her sweet words of comfort that had sorely tempted his resolve to maintain his obligation to stay away from her.  He knew that if he didn’t pull back now and try to maintain his distance, he wouldn’t be strong enough to fight his desire to take what she so innocently offered to him.

            “Stop with the cement jokes already,” she responded tartly, and frowned in concern when he pushed away from the wall and came towards her.  Kusanagi’s face looked brighter than usual, almost flushed and his eyes were extremely heavy-lidded.  “Are you feeling all right?” she asked anxiously, “you don’t look so good.  Is your shoulder bothering you from last night?  Maybe I should take a look at it.”

            “No, my shoulder doesn’t need to be looked at, and yes, I’m fine,” he told her, moving to the stove and picking up the kettle to put some water in it.

            Actually, he felt far from fine, but he wasn’t about to tell that to Momiji.  It felt like someone had hit him in the face with a sledgehammer and his head was going to explode.  There was a burning sensation behind his nose and eyes, and it felt like someone had shoved their fist down his throat.  He’d never felt like this before.  He had been beaten, battered and bruised more times than he cared to remember.  He’d even been cut in half before - not that he remembered that too clearly - but not once had he ever felt quite like this.  He had often wondered what it would be like to be sick.  It was a novel sensation; one that he now realized he could have lived his whole life without and never missed, and one he wished would go away. 

            Momiji watched him for a minute or two and then shook her head.  “I don’t think you are fine, Kusanagi,” she murmured and walked over to him, reaching up and putting her hand to his forehead while he stood in front of the sink filling the kettle with water.  He jerked away from her, but not before she could tell that he had a fever.  “You’re sick,” she told him.

            He snorted and said dismissively, “I never get sick,” and then sneezed. 

            Momiji watch him turn the water off and go back over to the stove, trailing after him in concern.  He did his best to ignore her, and busied himself with turning the stove on and getting out a mug, and then, tired of being analyzed, snapped at her, “Will you quit looking at me like that!?”

            “Like what?” she asked in confusion.

            “Like I have flowers growing out of the top of my head!” he retorted and stalked over to the kitchen table, slumping into a chair to wait for the water to boil. 

            Momiji watch him sitting there in the chair like a petulant schoolboy and she turned and left the room.  Kusanagi listlessly watched her go, thinking to himself that she had given up awfully easily, but glad to be left in peace, his head pounding.  He inwardly groaned as Momiji returned a few minutes later with a thermometer and a bottle of aspirin.  Oh, god, he thought with dread, she was in one of her here- let – me – help – you – moods.  Kusanagi’s eyes shifted from the thermometer, to her and back to the thermometer again.

            “And just what were you planning on doing with that, Princess?”  he asked in a surly tone, knowing very well what she planned on doing.

            “Well, I thought I would use it to check the water temperature just to make sure your tea doesn’t get too hot,” she bubbled with false brightness and then said more sharply, “I’m going to take your temperature, you fat-head, what else?”

            Kusanagi hastily pushed his chair back and clambered to his feet, backing away from her,  “Leave me alone, Momiji.  I’m fine.” He said in a pained voice.

            Kusanagi held his black gloved hand out in front of himself as if to ward her off, which was utterly ridiculous, thought Momiji, considering that she only came up to his breastbone.  Nevertheless, she proceeded to advance in his direction and he proceeded to retreat until his back was against the wall, literally.  He held his hand up higher then, and turned his head away, saying, “I mean it, Momiji, leave me be,” the pained note gone, replaced by one of warning.

            “Why are you being such a baby?” she asked him, “all I want to do is take your temperature, Kusanagi,” she wheedled, but he remained tight-lipped and unmoving.  “Come on, you’re a big boy, you can handle this,” she stepped closer to him and held the thermometer up to his mouth but he crossed his arms and glared down at her.  She let her arm drop to her side, frustrated and then her face brightened as she got an idea.  She edged even closer to him , and he scowled suspiciously at her.  Giving him a bright smile, she raised her foot and stomped on his toe, grinding her bare heel against it as hard as she could.

            “Owwch!” he cried, trying to remove his foot out from underneath hers and glaring at her, “what did you do that for?” he demanded and promptly found the thermometer shoved between his open lips. 

He reached up to take it out of his mouth and received a stinging slap as she swatted his hand away, saying, “Honestly, Kusanagi, act your age!”

He didn’t say anything but subsided with bad grace, leaning sullenly against the wall his eyebrows drawn into a straight line.  Momiji waited patiently for the thermometer to beep and when it did, took it from him, looked at it and gasped.

“This can’t be right, can it? 105.7?” she said, staring down at the numbers. If a normal human being was running a fever that high, they would be close to convulsions, wouldn’t they?    Looking up at him through her lashes, Momiji shot a speculative look at Kusanagi who was still pouting and didn’t look anywhere close to having convulsions - a conniption, maybe, but convulsions?  No. “What does your temperature normally run, Kusanagi?

Kusanagi pushed away from the wall, shrugged his shoulders indifferently and went over to the stove where the kettle had begun to whistle shrilly.  “I don’t know.   I’ve never had occasion to take it before.”

Momiji watched him pour his tea and then get out another mug for her and fill it as well.  He put it in her hand as he passed her to sit down at the table and Momiji bit her lip in worry.  He really didn’t look good.  She walked over to the table and set her mug down and then put the bottle of aspirin she’d been carrying next to his cup.  Since she wouldn’t be able to open it, she was going to have to try to get him to do it. 

“Will you take a couple of these?” she asked with an entreating look, “please?”

Kusanagi took a sip of his tea, his cat-like eyes studying her over the rim of his mug.  He quirked his lips impatiently and said, “If it will make you leave me alone, then yes, I will take some.” He reached out and snatched up the bottle.  Then shooting her one more, dark look, he opened it, shook a couple of pills into his hand and swallowed them with a gulp of tea.  “There,” he said abruptly banging his mug on the table, “now quit worrying.”

Momiji gave him a relieved smile, sat down next to him, and sipped her own tea. 

“I was thinking of going over to the hospital today to check on Akiko, do you want to come with me?” she asked.

Kusanagi really didn’t feel like it so he shook his head and made an excuse.  “I think I’ll just stay here and work on my portfolio.  I still haven’t got it the way I want it.”

There was a brief knock on the front door and then Momiji heard her mother’s voice calling her.

“In here, Mom,” she called and smiled when her mother came into the kitchen.

Moe hugged her daughter and then gave her a searching look, making certain for herself that she had come to no lasting harm after what had happened last night.  Satisfied by what she saw she turned to greet Kusanagi and was shocked by what she saw.

“Kusanagi, you look terrible!”

“So I’ve been told,” he replied unconcernedly and took another sip of his tea.

“Maybe we should call a doctor – “ Moe began and visibly jumped when Kusanagi sharply cut across her words.

“No!” He stopped and modified his tone, “I’ll be all right, Mrs. Fujimiya, with a little rest,” he got to his feet, wishing to escape the two interfering females, and said, “if you’ll excuse me, I have some things I need to work on,” his gaze rested briefly on Momiji before he left and he said, “I’ll see you when you get back, Momiji.”  And then he was gone, leaving Moe to give her daughter a puzzled look regarding his behavior.

“He doesn’t like being put under a microscope,” Momiji said helplessly, and her mother nodded in understanding.

As they pulled out of the driveway, Momiji couldn’t help looking back over her shoulder at the house, still worrying about Kusanagi.

“You two seem to be getting along pretty well, considering what you told me the night of your wreck,” her mother commented, “has anything happened that maybe I should know about?” she asked, coming to the point in a blunt, mother-like fashion.

“Ummm, no, not really.”  Momiji’s face flamed red as she remembered Kusanagi’s kiss, and she squirmed in her car seat. 

Moe watched her speculatively but didn’t push her daughter.  When Momiji was ready to talk about it, she would let her mother know. 

Moe couldn’t refrain from saying though, “See, Momiji, I told you things would work out, didn’t  I?”

To which Momiji just mumbled her agreement and changed the subject.  Akiko was fitfully drifting in and out of sleep when they arrived at her room.  Her arm and shoulder were heavily wrapped in bandages and she looked pale, but when she woke and saw Momiji, she smiled brightly, glad to see her friend.  Momiji told her what had happened since no one else had been there to witness it.

“The doctors just assumed that I had been attacked by some wild dogs or something,.  Although, they did say I was brought in by some unusual - looking guy half-dressed with green stuff oozing down his shoulder.  I thought that might be your Kusanagi?”  Akiko raised her eyebrows over her spectacles and looked at Momiji who nodded in confirmation.  “I was hoping that he would come with you so I could thank him for what he did,” Akiko continued in disappointment.

“Well, he wasn’t feeling well, but I promise, you’ll get to meet him,” Momiji replied and then asked,  “Akiko do you remember anything about last night?  Anything at all about the thing that attacked you?”  Momiji asked.

“Not really,” Akiko replied after a minute, “I remember I went to take Kebooru outside and I heard a noise behind me and there was this – thing – and it came after me.”  The fear stood out in Akiko’s eyes just remembering it and Momiji was sorry that she had asked, but she had been hoping that she could learn something more about it by talking with Akiko. 

“Never mind, Akiko,” Momiji said hastily, wanting to see the terror fade from her friend’s eyes.  “It’s not important.”

They didn’t stay much longer after that, because Akiko needed her rest.  They stopped by Akiko’s house to pick up some food for Kebooru and found it swarming with Defense Force personnel and some members of the TAC.  Kome was there, now officially dressed in TAC regalia and when she saw Momiji, she broke away from the group of people she was with and approached her.

“Hey, kiddo.  Are you okay?” she asked giving Momiji the once over.  Satisfied with what she saw, she said, “I’m really sorry about what happened to your friend, but she’s really lucky that you and Plant Boy came along when you did.

“I just wish I could have gotten to her sooner,” Momiji sighed remorsefully.

“Don’t feel bad, kiddo,” Kome put an encouraging arm around Momiji, “you saved her life, that’s what’s important.  Did you know that she is the first person to be attacked by one of these things and lived?”

Momiji looked surprised by this bit of information but she didn’t say anything.

“You saw it didn’t you – Ryoko said you did,” Kome said, dropping her arm from Momiji’s shoulder.  Her blue eyes were grave as she gazed steadily at Momiji who nodded her head.  “They say it had a mitama.  Is that true?” she asked tensely and then swore loudly when Momiji confirmed it.  “I was hoping we would never have to deal with those creepy things again.”  She slumped her shoulders and shoved her hands into her pockets, staring moodily off into the distance.

Momiji could have told Kome that she didn’t think that they were dealing with the same kind of Aragami as before, but she didn’t.  Instead, she murmured, “Me too.”  And a silence fell between them.

Kome eventually recovered her aplomb and she looked at Momiji and said, “Kunikida was looking for you earlier.  Did you see him?”

Momiji shook her head and looked around for his familiar, dominant figure but didn’t see him anywhere.  Momiji wished Kome goodbye and went to find Kebooru’s food so she could leave.  It was in the kitchen and Momiji stopped to look out back to see if Mr. Kunikida might be there.  He wasn’t there either, so she and her mother left.   

Mr. Kunikida was waiting in the driveway for them when they got back home, smoking a cigarette and standing by her little grey car. 

He put out his cigarette and waved as they drew up. “I needed to come by and talk to you and Kusanagi, so I thought I would bring your car along,” he told her after opening the door for her.

Momiji looked at the front of the hood in amazement.  It looked like new.  “I didn’t think they would be able to fix it,” she murmured.

“Well, they didn’t,” Kunikida laughing at her artless observation, “this is a new one.”

“What!?  B-but you shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble –“  Momiji stammered.

“It’s no trouble, Momiji,” Mr. Kunikida waved his hand dismissively, “your insurance covered most of the cost, since the other one was practically new and I covered the rest,” and when she tried to object again, added, “Momiji, Ryoko and I wanted to do this, so please make us happy and accept our gift to you.”

Momiji looked at her mother who didn’t say anything and then looked back at her special, foster father and friend and said lamely, “Thank you, Mr. Kunikida.  I don’t know what to say.”

He winked at her and said, “Say that you’ll come and visit Ryoko and I when we go back to Tokyo.” and then he turned the conversation in another direction, “Where’s Kusanagi?”

“He’s in the house,” Momiji responded.

“That’s odd,” Kunikida said, turning to stare at the door, “no one answered when I knocked on the door earlier.  I just assumed that he had gone with you.  I decided to have a cigarette before I left here since Ryoko won’t let me smoke in the car.  Lucky for me that you drove up when you did -  But  I wonder why Kusanagi didn’t answer the door?”

Momiji bit her lip and hurried towards the house, saying over her shoulder, “He wasn’t feeling well when we left.  I hope he’s okay.”

Momiji let herself into the house and called Kusanagi’s name, but there was no answer.  She peeked into the kitchen hoping to find him at work on his portfolio, but the table was clean except for the mug of tea he’d had earlier and the bottle of aspirin she had left sitting there.  Momiji turned and re-crossed the living room just as her mother and Mr. Kunikida came through the door.

“He isn’t down here,” she told them, “I’ll go check upstairs and see if he’s in his room.”

Momiji quietly opened the door to his room and felt relief wash through her when she spotted Kusanagi lying on his bed, fully clothed in his faded blue jeans and black, button-down shirt on the bed.  For a minute, she’d been afraid that she had aggravated him so much this morning that he had decided to flee back to his apartment in Tokyo.  She tiptoed into the room, stepping around a towel bloodied from his wound of last night lying in the floor, and chided herself for giving reign to such a silly thought.  But she forgot all about that as she got closer to the bed and discovered a new worry.

Kusanagi’s breathing sounded ragged in his throat and his color was even higher than it had been this morning.

“Kusanagi?” she called softly, her voice full of concern as she bent towards him. 

She put her hand to his face and alarm rocketed through her.  His skin was hot and dry and his fever felt even higher than it had been this morning.  She straightened back up, her heart pounding heavily in her chest and headed back downstairs.

One look at Momiji’s face told Moe and Mr. Kunikida that something was wrong.  “Kusanagi is really ill,” she told them fretfully.

“Well, have you called a doctor?” Kunikida asked. 

Both Moe and Momiji shook their heads in unison and Momiji said tightly, “He would never let me take him to a doctor, Mr. Kunikida.  They probably wouldn’t know what to do for him anyway.  I wonder if I could get Ms. Matsudaira to come down from Tokyo and take a look at him,”  Momiji wondered aloud.

“You won’t have to,” Kunikida told her, “she’s here in Izumo.  I had her come in this morning to examine the severed arm of the Aragami.  She’s over at the lab right now.  Moe, if youll let me borrow your car I’ll go get her and bring her back here,”  he suggested and Momiji quickly nodded her head in agreement as Moe handed him her keys.

After he left, Momiji turned to Moe and told her to make herself at home, “I’m going to check on Kusanagi one more time.”  She turned and headed back upstairs while her mother went into the kitchen and started to make some tea, waiting for her daughter to return.

As Momiji crossed the room, Kusanagi slowly opened his eyes and she could tell that he was having a hard time focusing on her.

“Momiji,” he said thickly, his voice scratchy and hoarse as he sat up and looked blearily around. “You’re back already?”

“You need to be in bed,” she told him , looking at him in disquiet.

“I am in bed.”  He pointed out, shocked at the sound of his own voice.  God, was that really his voice? 

“No,” Momiji clarified, “I mean you need to put your pajamas on and climb under the covers, Kusanagi.”

“No Momiji, I want to get up.  I’m too hot to stay in bed,” he argued and swung his legs over the side of the bed, “and I have a lot of work I need to do.  Besides I wanted to go back to Akiko’s house and take a look at the -” he broke off as Momiji come rushing over and pushed him off his feet,  “- what the heck are you doing?”

“You need to put your pajamas on and get into bed,” she insisted stubbornly.

“Like hell I do!”  he snapped in an unruly way and tried to stand up again only to have her get in his way again.  This wasn’t right.  How could Momiji, a petite girl with only one working arm run such an effective blockade?  She was never that coordinated on the best of days and it baffled him that she was able to thwart his every effort to get up out of bed.

“You are not getting out of this bed, Kusanagi!” she huffed, pushing at him again, “so  I wish you would just give up and take your clothes off!”

Thoroughly out of temper, and feeling too ill to argue with her anymore, Kusanagi gritted his teeth and dropped his hands down to his pants, unbuttoning them.  At least he could exact a little revenge for her high-handed attitude, anyway, he told himself and he kept one eye on Momiji while he bent to his task, feeling satisfaction course through him at her reaction. 

Momiji jumped back from him, her green eyes starting from her head.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked, her mouth falling open in shock.

“You should be careful what you wish for, Momiji.” He told her as he slowly unzipped his pants and began to slide them down over his hips, thoroughly enjoying her discomfiture, his only revenge for her domineering attitude.

Momiji flung her fingers over her eyes and said jerkily, “you could at least wait until I leave the room!”

            “Now what fun would that be, Princess?” came his hoarse but dry reply, which was spoiled when he sneezed.

            Momiji spun away from him, her chestnut hair billowing out like a cloud behind her, and headed towards the door, saying over her shoulder as she went, “I’ll be coming back up here in fifteen minutes, and you’d better be under the covers!”

            To which he replied, “I’ll be more than ready and waiting for you to keep me company,” in his most suggestive tone just to rattle her further but swore under his breath as her next words reached him from the hallway.

            “Oh, I forgot to tell you, my mother is here.  She’ll be coming with me, so I suggest that you be ready for her as well.”

            Momiji trotted down the stairs and went into the kitchen, the color high in her face.  She gathered up the bottle of aspirin and the thermometer before turning to her mother, who was sitting at the table with her tea.  Momiji handed both items to her. 

            “Mom, would you take these up to Kusanagi for me?” she asked, avoiding her mother’s gaze, “I’ll be there in a minute.  Kebooru hasn’t been out since this morning and I just want to let her out for a few minutes.” 

She also wanted a few minutes to calm her rattled nerves, glad to be able to escape outside where the wind rushed soothingly against her hot face.  Feeling a bit more composed now that the color in her cheeks was starting to subside, Momiji allowed her thoughts to drift a bit which was a mistake because they settled right on the image of Kusanagi unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down his narrow hips, watching her suggestively all the while. 

Her face flared with color again and she wrestled with her troublesome thoughts, a question forming in the back of her mind regarding his provocative behavior. Was it the fever making him behave in this fashion, she wondered.  Or could it be that after last night, he had begun to see the possibility of allowing himself to be a part of her life?  Hope and longing welled up in her at the thought, but she squashed them before they had a chance to grow.

She had wanted to be close to him for so long, but it just didn’t seem possible that he would suddenly change, not after the way he had steadfastly shut her out for the past year – really, the past three years.  The more she thought about it the more bewildered she became.  Even after last night’s kiss, she had seen the conflict in his eyes and had known that he wouldn’t give up his indifferent position so easily, and for that reason, the question surfaced again.  Why had he behaved in such a free manner just now? 

Thoroughly vexed at herself for thinking too much about it and vexed at Kusanagi for giving her something to think about, she pushed her thoughts aside and tried to round Kebooru up.  She went through the same routine as she had earlier, chasing the little puppy around the yard and then, huffing and puffing from exertion, and holding the tiny body against her chest, Momiji went back inside. 

With slow steps, Momiji climbed the stairs and went back into Kusanagi’s room.  Her eyes avoided the bed, and she looked for her mother. 

Moe was standing by the window looking out and when Momiji came in she turned and said, “I thought I heard a car drive up.  I’ll just go and check to see if Mr. Kunikida is back yet.”

            Still avoiding looking at Kusanagi, Momiji kept her eyes pinned to her mother as she turned and left the room.  After her mother had gone, Momiji stared at the open door and nervously fingered the top button of her sweater, wishing that she could think of something mundane to say, to help dispel the awkwardness she felt.

Kusanagi watched Momiji, wondering if her nervousness was due to his earlier actions and felt a fleeting moment of guilt for teasing her so unmercifully.  Her hand fluttered nervously against her chest and he found his eyes drawn to where her slender fingers plucked at the tiny pearl button on her snug-fitting sweater, inches away from her breasts.  He looked away then, but it was too late.  Despite the fact that he felt like hell, just watching her for those few moments made him want her even more than he had wanted her the night before. 

He should have never allowed himself that kiss, he realized with a grimace.  It was like his sterile soul, deprived of the feelings of another for so long, had suddenly become achingly aware of the rush of life that swirled inside Momiji.  And now, the seeds of hunger that had been planted so long ago when he had met her, burst into life, fed by his brief taste of her, and his desire sprang up within him like the green reawakening from winter.  He wondered if he would be able to tame the wildness of the turbulent emotions that surged within him; cut them back until there was nothing left but the barrenness of before.  But more importantly, he thought, did he really want to?  All he knew, was right at this moment, he didn’t want to think about it anymore.  So to take his mind off of his troubling desires, he decided to indulge in his favorite pasttme and tease Momiji some more.

“I have to say I’m disappointed, Princess,” he said in a gravelly voice, shifting onto his side so he could look at her.  “I did exactly what you told me; put my pajamas on and climbed into bed, and you aren’t even gracious enough to acknowledge my efforts.”

            Momiji rolled her eyes and snorted loudly at his words.  “If your head were on fire, would I have to praise you for putting it out?  I would think that such an action would be plain common sense, much in the same way as putting on your pajamas and climbing into bed is common sense when you’re sick,” she pointed out acerbically. 

Momiji twisted her head in his direction as she spoke and noted that he had indeed climbed under the covers.  But she couldn’t see what good it was doing him since he was without a shirt, the bronze skin of his broad chest completely exposed.  He wasn’t even covered properly, she thought, incensed, the sheet hanging carelessly around his hips where she could see the dark waistband of a pair of snug-fitting shorts.  Momiji’s indignant eyes flitted over him, noting the wounds on his shoulder, which were now closed and only slightly pink, were more than half way healed, and she found her gaze drawn inexorably to the contours of his broad chest and the circle of four mitamas centered around his heart.  

If you just looked at his body and not his face, Momiji thought vaguely, he didn’t look sick at all.  As a matter of fact, he exuded such a strong air of masculinity that she felt her breath catch in her throat and she struggled to keep her breathing even.   

            “Have I grown an extra set of ears, or something?” Kusanagi asked her, putting a hand up to the side of his head as if to make sure that that wasn’t the case.

            Momiji jumped a little, realizing that she had been caught standing there, drooling over him like a dog presented with the largest bone it had ever seen, and she let her gaze slide away from him to the nightstand where the aspirin and the thermometer sat.  To distract herself, she walked over and picked the thermometer up.

            “Have you taken your temperature again yet?”

            “What do you think?” he asked in an infuriating manner.

            “Yes?” she hazarded.

            “Wrong answer!” he responded flippantly.

            Momiji heaved a heavy sigh and looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold on to her patience.  He was sick, she thought peevishly, sick people were supposed to be more malleable, weren’t they?  Not Kusanagi, though, unless you counted the thickness of a crowbar as being malleable.  But even a crowbar could be bent, she thought, if you applied a little heat and pressure to it. 

What was required here, she thought firmly, was a little brute force.  She had the little down pat, and, unfortunately, lacked the brute force part, but she would give it her best effort anyway.  Momiji straightened her spine, walked over to the edge of the bed and stared down her nose at Kusanagi. 

            “Open your mouth,” she ordered tartly while he just watched her indolently.

            “Geez, Princess, I think you need to work on your bedside manner just a little,” he informed her hoarsely,  “you don’t make a very good nurse,” he told her and then sneezed, “remind me when I’m feeling better to teach you the right way to play doctor.”

            Heat scalded her face but he had given her the perfect opportunity to apply a little heat.  She looked down at him, her eyebrows raised and murmured uncharacteristically, “Is that a promise, Kusanagi?”  Embarrassed by her own words, the color in her face spread downwards to her neck and even stained the skin that lay exposed above the neckline of her sweater.

Kusanagi’s eyes widened at her sudden bravado, as, for once, the tables were turned.  He was at a loss for words, having expected her to react in her usual shy and awkward manner, and when she hadn’t, found himself suddenly picturing just what it might be like to do a little medical research on her perfect little body.  Before he could stop himself, his gaze swept hungrily over her, a heat flaring through him that had nothing to do with his temperature.  He forced himself to look away, and when she held out the thermometer, he docilely took it from her and put it in his mouth, still not looking at her. 

Heat and pressure, Momiji mumbled to herself.  She would have to remember that, she thought while she waited on the thermometer.  When it finally beeped, Momiji took it from Kusanagi, a frown of worry creasing her brow.  His fever was so high now, that it wasn’t even registering on the thermometer.  Her gaze shifted back to Kusanagi but he had rolled onto his other side, away from her and had closed his eyes.  Momiji looked back down at the thermometer and bit her lip.  She would be glad when Ms. Matsudaira got there, she thought to herself and almost jumped from her skin when Matsu’s husky voice spoke from the doorway. 

            “I hear you’re not feeling too well, Kusanagi,” she observed pleasantly.

            Kusanagi’s eyes snapped open and he jerked his head off his pillow long enough to give Matsu a hostile look and say, “What are you doing here?”

            Matsu crossed to stand next to Momiji and replied, “I’m in Izumo analyzing the Aragami tissue that the TAC recovered last night.  It’s quite fascinating really.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he replied with a heavy frown, his lips twisting sourly.

“You mean why am I’m here to see you?  Momiji asked me to come because she’s worried about you.  And I can see why.  You look terrible, Kusanagi.”  She opened the black bag she had been carrying and took out a few things.

            Kusanagi shot Momiji a seething look but said to Matsu, “You can just pack up your little tool kit, turn right around and leave.  I refuse to be your lab experiment.”

Matsu stopped what she was doing, her brown eyes looking to Momiji for guidance. 

Momiji, in turn, looked down at Kusanagi and said, “She just wants to do a few tests and draw some blood Kusanagi.  She’s the only one I knew I could trust not to treat you like an experiment. “  Kusanagi didn’t say anything, so Momiji leaned forward, her concern for him shining brightly in her green eyes.  “Please, Kusanagi.  You’re fever is getting worse and if we don’t do something I’m afraid of what might happen.”

            Kusanagi didn’t say anything for minute.  He knew that he should probably do something.  He felt like his body was filled with lead and his thoughts were beginning to get fuzzy.  Despite  the fuzziness, though, one fact stood out clearly: if he got much sicker, and the Aragami were to come back, he would be in no shape to protect Momiji.  His face twisted into a scowl, resenting that he had no other options left to him.  He looked from Momiji to Matsu and nodded his head sullenly.

Momiji breathed a soft sigh of relief and stood back to let Matsu do her work. 

“Your chest is clear, Kusanagi,” she told him after she finished examining him, “which is a good sign.”

“But what about the fever?” Momiji asked anxiouly.

Matsu looked at Kusanagi in a considering way and said, “It’s really hard to tell since I don’t have a baseline to work from, but just guessing, I would say it’s still high, even for someone who’s part plant,” she smiled slightly and continued, “It will take me a couple of hours to analyze these samples, and hopefully after that, I will be able to tell you something more,” Matsu told her.  ‘Just try to keep him comfortable in the meantime.” Matsu said looking at Momiji and then continued, her gaze sliding back to Kusanagi, “As soon as you’re feeling better, Kusanagi, I want you to bring Momiji down to the lab.  I should have some information on the Aragami that might help you track them down by then.”

She took the vials filled with green blood and packed them carefully away, promising Momiji that she would start working on them as soon as she got back to the lab.  And then she was gone.

Mr. Kunikida and Moe were quick to follow her and so an awkward Momiji found herself alone with a sullen and moody Kusanagi.

Kusanagi still had his back to her and she gazed uncertainly at him.  “Are you angry?” she asked timidly.

“Just wait until I feel better Momiji,” he promised in his hoarse voice, “I will have my revenge for today’s little piece of work.”

“Kusanagi –“

“Leave me alone, Momiji,” he demanded in a tired voice, “I want to go to sleep.”

Momiji didn’t say anything else, but left his room, biting her lip and hoping Matsu would call soon with the results of her lab work and wondering what kind of revenge Kusanagi would exact from her.