Blue Seed Fan Fiction ❯ Dreamer Awakened ❯ Kingdom for a Sword ( Chapter 24 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Chapter 24. Kingdom for a Sword









Dreamer Awakened


CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR



Darkness spread over Tokyo like a filthy shadow, the glare
from the streetlights, the towering skyscrapers and the constant flux of light
from the streaming traffic thinned the purity of night's ebony color, choking
out the stars and blotting out the deep velvet of the evening sky. Murakumo's
lips curled in disgust, a strand of raven black hair blowing across his face as
he stood overlooking the sparkling brightness of the skyline. His hands were
thrust deeply into his pockets, his eyes hard and condemning, and he saw no sign
of beauty in the artificial shimmer of electricity pulsing through the heart of
the city.
He had known what he would find here. That was why he had
come. He had needed to regain his sense of purpose that seemed to be wavering.
Especially since…he briefly closed his eyes against the heat that flared
through his veins as he recalled this morning with Midori. The satin feel of her
skin, the softness of her lips, the way her body had perfectly fitted around
his; such incredible pleasure. Murakumo's eyes shot open and he ruthlessly
shoved the images from his mind, looking out over the city once more,
concentrating on the unruly mass of humanity that sprawled below him.
This is what he hated about humans, he reminded himself
savagely; their vileness, their selfishness, covering every scrap of green with
asphalt - polluting the air and the earth with their human waste for convenience
sake; uncaring that the air was unfit to breathe and the earth beneath them was
dying. Not one of them deserved to inhabit the land that they defiled, he
silently condemned.
And then the unwanted image of soft brown eyes flashed
through his mind and he heard Midori's hesitant voice again asking: You don't
really think we're all like that, do you?

Pinpoints of the city's lights reflected in the coldness of
his steel grey eyes as he forced himself to focus, finding his answer to her
question sprawling in front of him below. Yes. They were all the same - every
last one of them.

She wasn't like that, came the rebellious and unwelcome
notion.
Murakumo's grey eyes narrowed in a cold fury at the sudden
turn his thoughts had taken.
Impossible! he vehemently disavowed, unwilling to acknowledge
such blasphemy. They were all the same, her included, he assured himself,
again ruthlessly shoving the image of her dark hair and brown eyes out of his
mind.

No. They are not, was the swift and resounding reply. She's
not like that. She saved your life.

Ridiculous! he argued hotly, he would not accept it. He would
have managed without her, he stubbornly maintained. After all, he was Aragami,
and Aragami were not like humans. They weren't as weak, and they could sustain
quite a bit of damage before their lives became threatened. It was unacceptable
to think otherwise, he insisted - she was unacceptable, just another
pitiful human.
But still he could not shake the memory of her body beneath
his and the echoing sound of her voice - 'you don't really think we're all
like that, do you?'
Then that soft and treacherous voice inside his head began
again.

She is different.… She has given to you without condition -
A girl with the means to save your soul, who risked her own life to protect you…She
has put her world in peril for you, for she knows what you are, and what have
you given her in return? You have used her as a convenience, taking what she has
offered for your own sake. Just as the humans that you so despise…she was
right. You ARE no better than the humans…

He turned away and closed his eyes, a laugh of self-derision
rising up, soft at first and then louder until his shoulders were shaking, his
mouth twisting in bitterness.
What was this he was feeling?
Guilt?
Remorse?
For a human?
What a fool he had become! He was letting emotion interfere
with his clarity of mind. Had he forgotten everything that he had struggled for?
The plan that he had so carefully constructed three years ago to re-establish
his Kingdom of the Aragami? Was he going to throw it all away just because of
one human girl? He should have never given into the impulse to lie with her, he
berated himself; for he had only strengthened the hold she seemed to have on
that trifling part of him that defied reason.
It was hard to believe that there was even a part of him that
defied reason, he thought scornfully, but there had to be; otherwise he would
not be - feeling - what he was feeling now. Emotions were for the
weak, he persisted in disgust, baffled because of the strong hold they seemed to
wield over him.
Enough!
Murakumo stiffened and pulled his hands from his pockets, his
mouth thinning into a determined line. Stalking over to the ledge of the roof,
he looked down into Susano-oh Memorial Park where the huge cherry tree stood. He
put his hand up to his chest and lightly pressed. It was still sore, but only
just. It was time to try again, he thought, ignoring the pull of emotion that
coaxed him to give up. Raising his hand, he again concentrated all of his
energy, focusing it, reaching out.
A light sheen of perspiration broke out across his forehead
as his chest began to tighten in protest to the strain he was putting on his
weakened mitama. But he ignored it, the image of Midori's face goading him. He
would NOT let emotions overrule him, he determined, the pain getting worse as he
kept seeking a servant. He closed his eyes and concentrated harder, the pain
rising in a pulsating crest through his chest. Then, just as the pain was
becoming too much, he felt it.
Murakumo's eyes shot open and he smiled in gloating triumph
as he let his hand fall back to his side, suppressing his energy flow once again
and the discomfort in his chest began to lessen. He had done it, he thought
exultantly, dismissing the disruptive feeling of disappointment that assailed
him. Finally, he would begin to put his plan into motion, he told himself as he
looked down into the park, his eyes scanning the gloom for signs of movement.
There, just beneath the shadow of the giant tree, he saw it.
Stepping off the ledge, he flitted down into the park and wandered beneath the
branches to greet his awakened servant.
"Sekage," he acknowledged, watching as the brown
tree lizard began to grow before his eyes. "The rebirth or our kingdom is
almost at hand," he prophesized, "and now I charge you with an
important task. You must find my heir and his - mother - for me."
The giant lizard raised its head, cocking it to the side, and
then bowed before once again shrinking and disappearing through the dead leaves
that covered the ground beneath the giant tree. Its claws made a faint rustling
noise as it scurried away. Murakumo stood listening to his servant depart, until
his ears picked up the sound of something else rapidly approaching him from
behind, its breathing fast and hollow.
He turned and saw it, the same glaring red eyes and black
mitama as the creature that had struck him down inside the iwatto. It leapt
towards him with an echoing roar, its claws stretching to rip through his chest
but he managed to evade it, flitting out of the way so that instead of
inflicting a lethal blow, its claws sliced through the flesh of his arm.
Murakumo ignored the stinging pain as it turned and regrouped, and a white-hot
fury began to burn behind his eyes as the creature approached him yet again.
"Only the lowliest of scum attacks the enemy while his
back is turned," he glowered. "And now that I know you're here, you
will not find me an easy target. I've killed one of your brethren already, and
if you wish to rush headlong to your death, then come ahead!" he snarled
and drew his blades, bracing his legs apart to prepare for the creature's
onslaught.
It stopped moving, its breath hissing through its jagged
fangs, and a calculating look flitted through is slitted eyes as it studied
Murakumo and his blades. Murakumo kept his grey eyes focused intently on it,
watching it for the slightest movement, wanting to be prepared for any special
attack it might unleash.
But it surprised him by turning away from him and burrowing
into the soil, disappearing beneath the earth before Murakumo had the chance to
stop it.
"The hell you say," Murakumo murmured incredulously
to himself, slowly moving forward to the churned up pile of earth, studying it.
A black mitama, but not one from his kingdom, he mused,
feeling dazed and wondering why he hadn't remembered sooner the one from the
first attack. He only recalled it now, after seeing this second one, and he
scowled at such an unforgivable oversight on his part.
It was her fault, he inwardly seethed. If he hadn't
been so preoccupied with her, then he would have remembered it, he thought
harshly.
Slowly turning away, lost in his thoughts, he was pulled up
short by the whisper of a sound from somewhere beneath the barren branches of
the giant cherry tree, and his head whipped around as he stared into the shadowy
darkness. "Your intentions are useless."
"Kaede," he hissed, quivering with rage, his eyes
flitting wildly through the gloom, seeking to find the owner of the voice.
"The mother of your child is dead, Murakumo," came
her words, brimming with accusation.
Murakumo's rage suddenly died and something akin to
disbelief flitted across his face as the image of silver-white hair and the
violet eyes flashed through his mind.
"Impossible," he softly denied, his eyes taking on
a glazed look as he absorbed Kaede's words.
"What did you expect, Murakumo? Did you really think
that she would be able to sleep the sleep of the Aragami without suffering? Her
body was not meant to slumber that long and as a result, the birth of your child
ended her life," Kaede informed him, her voice latent with recrimination.
"And the child?" Murakumo demanded after a long
moment of silence. When she didn't reply, he took a step toward the tree,
making a slashing motion with his hand, his voice becoming harsh, "Answer
me, damn you!"
"The child lives," Kaede told him reluctantly, and
then to his surprise, added, "he is with Momiji."
"The Kushinada," Murakumo said his voice faint with
surprise. He remained unmoving, his mouth slightly agape, reeling from Kaede's
unreserved disclosure. But then his eyes narrowed in suspicion and his mouth
snapped shut to form a hard, thin line. "Why do you tell me this?"
There was no reply and Murakumo thought she had gone when she
finally answered, saying in a quiet voice, "If it were up to me, I would
have never told you. But it matters little, since your kingdom will never
be."
"The hell you say," Murakumo hissed, his face
reddening uncharacteristically and becoming taut with fury.
"You have a new enemy, Murakumo - one that you have
faced twice now," Kaede informed him, her voice more faint than before,
"their numbers are endless and they will devour your kingdom, heart and
soul should you proceed with your plans…so unless you wish your race to suffer
complete annihilation, I would suggest that you put aside your personal
ambitions and concentrate on defeating them instead of the humans."
Her voice trailed off at the end, leaving Murakumo standing
alone under the shadowed branches of the tree, chaotic thoughts churning through
his mind. His child - a son, he mused, and he was with the other Kushinada. It
was not mere chance, but the machinations of Fate that had wrought such a deed,
and Murakumo, carefully mulling over Kaede's words, wondered if he dared
believe her.
A black mitama and yet it had no Aragami soul, he mused.
Could it be that this new enemy had found a way to destroy
the soul without destroying the mitama? If that were the case, then what Kaede
said could very well be true. And if Murakumo tried to resurrect his kingdom
now, he would only be imperiling those that he awakened. But could he trust her?
She had proved traitorous before, so why should he believe any information that
she chose to give him now?

But you have seen them with your own eyes, that
rebellious voice within him pointed out and Murakumo gritted his teeth in
irritation. He turned away and took a bounding leap, moving from rooftop to
rooftop, his face reflecting the turbulence that seethed inside. He couldn't
decide what he should do. And so he decided, that for now, he would do nothing.
He would wait for this new enemy to further reveal itself and then he would
decide if what Kaede had told him was true.
But regardless of his decision, he thought in determination,
he would find his son. Even if he were forced to abandon his plans for his
kingdom at the present, there would still come a day of reckoning between the
humans and the Aragami. He would make sure of it.


His arms crossed over his chest and looking down at his
expensive brown, Italian loafers, Sugishita leaned against the whitewashed
cinderblock wall of the hospital corridor next to the door marked 'Surgical
Waiting Room'. He listened with half an ear to the murmured conversation
between Ms. Matsudaira and her former ex-husband, now once-again husband and
noted with dismay that there was a large wad of gum stuck to the sole of his
shoe.
"Oh, man!" he groaned, pushing away from the wall,
his blue eyes crinkling as a pout pulled the corners of his mouth downward.
Matsu paused in her conversation, her dark eyes flickering
over to him. "What is it?"
Sugishita continued examining his shoe, but waved his hand in
her direction, saying absently, "It's nothing, just a wad of gum. I think
I can get it off if I scrape it against the curb outside."
Matsu rolled her eyes and with a slight shake of her head,
turned back to her husband.
"I'll be back in a minute," Sugi told them,
though neither of them was really listening, and started off down the hall.
Head bent, he didn't bother watching where he was going.
Instead he immersed himself in observing his shoe as he walked, noting that the
gum was making a thwick, thwick sound every time he lifted his foot. How
had he picked it up and not noticed it before now? he wondered in consternation,
feeling the gum squish down and stick as he applied pressure to his foot.
His preoccupation with the Great Gum Debate lasted until he
made it to the emergency ward where it abruptly ended when he overhead the
fragmented speech of two medical staff members inside an examination room.
" -this is the sixth one today. Never seen anything
like it; the skin and hair, all white like that. What the hell is causing it?
-"
Sugishita's head shot up and he stopped mid-stride, the gum
completely forgotten and he crept closer to the door that one of them had
inadvertently left cracked open, being careful to remain unseen.
"Do you think it's some new sort of viral strain or
something?" the other one said.
"Yeah, right," the first one scoffed, his voice
getting louder as if he was approaching the door on the other side, "have
you ever seen a virus chew a man's arm in half like that? Don't be stupid!
It's got to be some sort of experimental animal or something. You know how the
government is always messin' with stuff like that - "
The rest of the conversation was cut off as the door suddenly
snapped shut. But Sugishita had heard all that he needed to hear. Turning on his
heel, he started back up the hallway again, his normally fatuous look of
unconcern replaced with a grim one. The TAC was not going to like this one
little bit. It was beginning to look like the epidemic that they had feared was
about to begin.


Kusanagi jerked awake, and stared unseeing up at the darkened
ceiling, his breathing rapid, as the energy from his souls thrummed through his
body. This feeling… it was - He broke off the thought, the muscles in his
shoulders tensely bunching up at the familiarity of the call. Sitting up, his
eyes flew to the still open window and he tried to slow his breathing as the
feeling began to dim.
Sliding out of bed, he prowled over to the window and looked
out into the night, the somberness of his profile thrown into the shadows. All
was quiet, but he had expected that; the summons had come far from here. The
energy was completely gone now, and in its place was a growing sense of disquiet
that Kusanagi couldn't seem to stifle. If he hadn't known better, he could
have sworn that it had been Orochi's summons. But that was impossible. Orochi
was dead. Susano-oh had killed him three years ago.
But still…
Rubbing the backs of his hands, Kusanagi half turned from the
window and became lost in thought. It had definitely been a summons of some
sort. He was sure of it. But whose? Thinking rapidly, he recalled the green
Aragami blood that Ryoko and Kome had discovered in Takachiho where Midori had
disappeared and then recalled Midori's phone call from earlier in the evening.
The summons hadn't come from there, but what if…?
Perhaps he should make a trip to Takachiho in the morning, he
speculated, just to be sure. And then, if he didn't find anything, maybe even
go further north, towards Tokyo since that was the direction where the flow was
stemming from.
His deliberations were interrupted when the quiet of the room
was broken by a muted sound of distress. Breaking off his thoughts, Kusanagi
turned his head sharply back towards the bed, his cat-like eyes focusing on
where Momiji lay. She had been quiet just moments before, but now she was
thrashing around, the long strands of her hair becoming crushed and tangled
beneath her as her head moved restlessly from side to side on her pillow.
She was having a nightmare, he realized, completely turning
away from the window and rapidly crossing the room to the bed. He crawled across
the mattress and, kneeling beside her, put a gentle hand on her shoulder and
murmured her name. But she seemed unaware of his touch, too ensorcelled by the
unseen visions that haunted her. Her face was drawn into lines of panic and a
strangled cry was caught in her throat, imprisoned by her lips that were clamped
tightly together. Tightening his fingers against her shoulder, he shook her
harder, wanting to free her from the invisible terror that gripped her
With a start Momiji opened her eyes, her lips finally parting
to release the pent up cry as her chest rose and fell rapidly. Unaware of
Kusanagi and the room around her, her eyes remained unfocused and full of fear,
as the wisps of the nightmare faded with a lingering slowness. It was the
iwatto. She had been dreaming of the iwatto again; of Kaede and Kusanagi and
then of Tamanasu, and she couldn't dispel the knot of terror and dread that
she had in the middle of her chest.
"N-no! - Please, come back," Momiji choked, and a
tear slid down her face.
Suddenly she found herself pulled up from her pillow and
wrapped snugly against a warm chest smelling faintly of juniper and sandalwood.
Of their own volition, Momiji's arms came up and automatically encircled
Kusanagi's waist as comforting fingers began to stroke the back of her head.
Pressing her cheek closer against the warmth of his skin, she closed her eyes
and slowly began to relax.
"It's all right now," Kusanagi murmured
comfortingly to her.
Momiji burrowed deeper into his chest and she responded in a
tight voice, "I'm afraid."
"It was just a dream," he reassured her.
"No," she replied brokenly, "I couldn't
protect him, I couldn't save Noa from Tamanasu."
"Tamanasu is dead, Momiji, and you did save Noa,"
he reminded her softly.
"No," she lamented, "Kaede saved him. Not me.
I can't protect him." Suddenly she was sobbing and Kusanagi could feel
her hot tears fall against his chest, her torment over the revelations of her
dreams very real. 'I want to, I told Kaede that I would, b-but - I can't!"
His arm tightened around her willing to give anything at that
moment to make her pain go away. "Why can't you?" he inquired
quietly.
"Because I am not strong enough!" came her
anguished reply, her sobs louder than ever, the picture of Noa and Tamanasu
seared into her memory as if it was a premonition instead of a dream.
"- Then let me be your strength," Kusanagi
whispered to her.
Momiji's sobs ceased, and she snuffled in surprise. She
pulled slightly away from him so that she could look up into his face. Her
tear-drenched eyes were wide as she studied his expression. He returned her gaze
steadily, but it was too dark to see clearly so she stammered, "Wh-what did
you say?"
Kusanagi reached out and cupped her face, his thumbs brushing
away her tears as he softly repeated, "Let me be your strength
Momiji."
Momiji brought her fingers up and curled them around his
wrists. "But you - I didn't think that - what I mean is, I know how
you have suffered because of the Aragami and how much you hate them, Kusanagi.
If I were you, I would hate them too - and even though Noa is not completely
Aragami, his father is… He is my responsibility. Mine and mine alone,"
she told him in a heavy voice.
Kusanagi pulled her face closer to his, leaned his forehead
against hers and closed his eyes. "Not alone, never alone," he
whispered, "I would do anything for you, Momiji. Surely you know that by
now?"
His words created a dizzying effect that left her speechless
so that when Momiji opened her mouth, nothing came out for a moment. When she
did finally did get something out, it was only a stammered, "I - I - I…."
Kusanagi silenced her by pressing his lips against hers in a
soft lingering kiss and Momiji's breath fluttered to a stop in her throat as
her heart beat wildly against her ribs. Finally breaking off the kiss, he let
his hands drift away from her face, wrapping them once more around her body to
pull her unresistingly down on the bed. Stretching out next to her on his back,
his arm beneath her, he pulled her snugly against him until her face was nestled
against his shoulder, and then he grabbed her arm to place it across his body,
so that she held him in an embrace, his other hand going to her face where his
fingers gently brushed the tendrils of hair away from her temple in a rhythmic
motion.
"Go to sleep Momiji," he told her, a lulling
softness in his words.
Momiji's arm briefly tightened around him. "Kusanagi,
I - "
"Shhh," he soothed, "It's okay, Momiji. He'll
be okay. Together, we'll make sure of it."
Momiji heaved a contented sigh and let her eyes drift close.
Almost immediately she fell into a peaceful slumber, blissfully unaware of the
troubled expression on Kusanagi's face. He glanced out the window once more,
thinking about the journey he would make on the morrow and hoped that nothing
would come of it. After a few moments, he too closed his eyes, knowing that he
needed to be rested in case his fears were confirmed and he was forced to fight
a battle with the reawakened King of the Aragami.


The phone still clutched in her hand, Midori sat on the sofa,
her knees pulled up to her chest, and, dropping her head down, she curled into a
protective ball. She squeezed her eyes closed, all too aware of the tense,
burning pain in her chest and not knowing what to do to relieve it. Right now it
seemed as if things couldn't possibly get any worse.
Well, it's your own fault that you're in this mess, she
told herself sharply, trying to fight off the smothering wave of self - pity
that blanketed her. Her fingers tightened convulsively around the phone before
she finally lifted her face from her knees and put the phone back on the cradle.
It was bad enough that you've been secretly harboring an
Aragami from the TAC, she harshly castigated herself - but to actually give
your body to him?

What is wrong with you, Midori?
Midori closed her eyes in misery, replaying in her mind, once
again, her first intimate encounter. She had always thought it would be a
special moment shared with the man that she loved - not some act that was
tainted with shame and sordidness like hers had become, she mused, remembering
Murakumo's reaction after it had all been over.
As she had come crashing back to earth from the intensity of
her climax, Midori had discovered, that despite the persistent warnings sounding
in her head to guard it from him, she had promptly given her heart to a man
whose only intent was to trample on it. And any fragile hope that she had
harbored concerning his feelings for her had been completely shattered when he
had rolled off of her, avoiding looking at her, his face dark and brooding like
he'd been repulsed by what had happened between them. Without a word, he had
dressed, and left the house, leaving Midori to struggle with the enormity of
what she had done, her newfound feelings and his agonizing rejection of her.
He had been gone all day, and Midori glanced out the window
at the darkness, allowing herself to wonder if Murakumo was going to come back.
She dreaded seeing him again; afraid that he would only hurt her more, and yet
at the same time she eagerly awaited his return, wanting to be assured of his
safety.
Sick to heart of the tenor of her depressing thoughts, Midori
restlessly rose from the sofa and wandered into the kitchen. With distracted
motions, she opened the refrigerator and foraged for something to eat even
though her stomach was in knots. But her thoughts continued to circle
unrelentingly around Murakumo's dark hair and grey eyes and completely
destroyed what little appetite she had left.
Why was it now, she asked herself, while he was gone, that
she couldn't forget he was the enemy, but whenever he got close to her, she
couldn't think straight? She might love him, but that didn't mean it was
right to do so. He was her enemy; the leader of the Aragami, and he hated the
human race. Her included.

He will only cause you pain.
How easy it was to tell herself that now, she thought
bitterly, when the time she really needed to remember it was when he was near.
For that was when her heart took over, conveniently forgetting that he was
Aragami and she was his sworn enemy. She let the softness of his touch brush
away all thoughts of protest. And the heat of desire in his eyes set fire to her
senses, further eroding her resolve. It burned away all knowledge of the
differences between them, leaving only her need for him and the overwhelming
desire to mesh with the softness she sensed deep inside of him.
Without removing anything from the refrigerator, Midori
closed it and moved over to the table, wishing that she had someone to talk to,
someone who could advise her.
"Momiji, I wish I could talk to you," she sadly
sighed, her thoughts centering on her best friend.
But that avenue was closed to her, she thought dismally,
since she now knew that Kusanagi was there in Izumo with Momiji. When she had
called earlier, she had been depending on Momiji being alone, and now that she
knew that she wasn't, that changed things drastically. Momiji would never
consciously betray Midori's confidence, and if she had been alone, Midori
wouldn't have worried so much. But she wasn't alone, and Midori knew that by
now everyone was aware that she had gone missing - Kusanagi included - and
because he had answered Momiji's phone, if Midori had asked to speak to
Momiji, there was no way that he would have allowed for Momiji to remain silent
about why Midori was missing.
"You shouldn't be relying on others to solve your
problems for you anyway, Midori, and learn to fix them on your own," she
critically advised herself, and then jumped when she heard the front door slam
hard up against the wall.
All thoughts flew from her mind and her heart leapt in her
chest. Turning, she stuck her head around the kitchen door to see Murakumo
standing there in the living room, a fatigued look on his face and a strange
look in his eyes.
"You've been bleeding!" Midori exclaimed, her
concern for him overriding the memories of this morning and all of her turbulent
emotions. Everything was pushed aside the minute she laid eyes on him and saw
the dried green blood streaming down his arm.
Murakumo watched her flit from the doorway of the kitchen to
where he stood and remained unmoving as she took hold of his arm and began
examining it, his eyes sliding searchingly over the sincere concern written
across her features. Why did she have to be like this, dammit? He thought
harshly to himself and he jerked his arm from her grasp to stalk past her,
heading for his own room.
Midori bit her lip and watched him go, wincing as he slammed
his door shut behind him, the memories of this morning suddenly rushing back to
her. Drawing in a deep breath she turned and slowly reached for the front door,
quietly closing it before returning to the kitchen. She couldn't go back, she
resolutely told herself, so the only choice was to move forward. That meant
putting what happened between them this morning aside as best she could and
dealing with the here and now.
Following that piece of advice as best she could, she reached
for her first aid kit and pulled it off the shelf. Then she turned and left the
kitchen, her feet tracing Murakumo's steps until she stood just outside his
door where she briefly hesitated.
Should she knock? she wondered, and lifted her fist where it
hung, suspended in midair while she tried to decide what to do. What good was it
to knock, she asked herself when his highness would just most likely ignore her,
or worse, snarl at her to go away. So dropping her hand to the knob, she twisted
it instead and slowly pushed the door open.
Poking her head around the door, her brown eyes gravitated to
the bed where he lay with his back to her in his tattered trousers and his
bloodied arm hanging laxly down the length of his body.
Shielding herself off from her emotions, Midori quietly
entered the room and steadily made her way towards him, forcing herself not to
hesitate when he bit out, "Why are you in here?" without turning to
look at her.
She didn't bother to answer until she had reached the
bedside. After letting her eyes critically wander over him, she turned away and
placed her kit on the table, opening it and rummaging through it while she said,
"I came here to help you."
"I don't need your help," he replied harshly.
"So you've told me on numerous occasions, but I've
never let that stop me," she responded evenly, her dark eyes noting the
resentful set of his shoulders.
Picking up her gauze and antiseptic, she moved forward to
examine his arm closer only to fall back a step when he once again jerked away
from her, his head snapping around to look at her. There was an untamed
restlessness in his eyes that Midori had never seen before and she let her hands
drop to her sides, sensing that she needed to tread carefully.
She remained warily silent, watching as he rolled over and
sat up, expecting him to lash out at her, but he didn't. Instead his unsettled
gaze fell away from her and became unfocused. Cautiously waiting for a few more
minutes, she again tried approaching him, relaxing a bit and releasing the
breath she hadn't realized she had been holding when he made no move to
further reject her ministrations.
After a closer scrutiny, she concluded that the wound only
needed to be cleaned, since it had begun to close up which meant that his body
was again resuming its normal functionality of rapid regenerative capability.
"What happened?" She finally dared to ask in a
quiet voice as she doused the gauze with antiseptic.
"Another beast with a black mitama," he replied
laconically.
Midori momentarily ceased her actions and looked into his
face, wondering how he could seem so detached about it. "You mean like at
the iwatto, the creature with the black mitama?"
Murakumo's eyes flitted towards her, but they still had a
vacant look in them as if he wasn't really seeing her. "Yes. A new
enemy," he muttered absently, speaking his thoughts aloud, and when he
failed to add anything further, Midori bent and resumed her task of gently
cleaning his arm.
But she halted again a few seconds later; this time because
his hand came up and clamped around her wrist preventing her from moving. She
turned her face towards his and her brown eyes locked with his grey ones. They
had lost their vacant look and were now sharply focused on her.
"Why do you do this?" he demanded roughly, pulling
her hand away from his arm but not letting go of it.
Midori opened her mouth, and growing uncomfortable beneath
his piercing gaze, she let her eyes slide to the piece of blood smeared gauze in
her hand that remained suspended between them as she tried to think of a reply.
Raising her shoulders in a fidgeting motion, she remained
speechless, her eyes flying back to his face in surprise when he added with
quiet intensity, "Don't you know that I mean to destroy you?"
Her soft brown eyes widened as she looked searchingly into
the steel grey of his, and after a moment she asked breathlessly, "Do
you?"
He didn't answer for a long moment, his gaze wavering
slightly before he replied in a flat tone of voice, "Yes."
His hesitation told Midori what she wanted to know, and her
tongue flickered out, nervously moistening her bottom lip before she summoned up
the courage to tell him, "I don't believe you."
Murakumo's eyes followed the motion of her tongue and she
saw a flame of desire leap in his eyes before he ruthlessly extinguished it,
saying in a steely voice, "You are such a foolish girl to doubt me. Once I
have defeated this new enemy and regained my son from the Kushinada, then I will
begin my plans for re-establishing my kingdom and the human race will be no
more."
His threatening words slid over her, but Midori paid little
heed to them as her attention was caught and held by what he had said about his
son.
"Your son is with Momiji?" she asked in a startled
voice and then winced when he shot from the bed, his fingers biting into her
wrist as he dragged her closer to him and leaned down to glare at her.
"You know the Kushinada? How? How do you know her?"
he hissed furiously, wondering what game Fate was playing now.
"Sh-she is my best friend," Midori stammered,
twisting her wrist to try and free herself, and then grimacing and saying,
"- Please let go! - you're hurting me!"
Murakumo looked away from her and abruptly released her.
Finally free, Midori pulled her wrist to her body and massaged it, watching as
Murakumo's face once again took on that brooding, absorbed look and wondered
what was going through his mind.
"I - I don't understand," she mumbled in a
puzzled sort of way after a moment, and then added, "why would Momiji have
your son? What about his mother?"
At her words, something flickered across Murakumo's face,
disappearing almost before she had seen it, and it was only after he spoke that
Midori realized what it was.
"Hikaru is dead," he intoned in a voice devoid of
emotion, his face just as wooden as his words as he turned his head to look down
at her. "She died giving birth to my son."
Even though he stared impassively at her, his expression didn't
fool her. She had seen his sorrow before he had had a chance to hide it. And
Midori's eyes filled with grief for his loss.
"I'm so sorry," she said, her brown eyes bright
with compassion as she gazed up at him so that Murakumo felt a strange sliding
sensation in the middle of his chest.
Fighting it, he again looked away from her and said frostily,
"Spare me your platitudes, human! I do not need them. She meant nothing to
me."
Midori stared steadily at him for a moment or two and then
sighed, saying nothing as she moved forward to finishing cleaning his arm.
After a few more minutes of prolonged silence, she softly
whispered, "Keep telling yourself that long enough, your highness, and
perhaps you can make yourself believe it."
His face registered no reaction to her words. It was almost
as if he hadn't heard them, but Midori knew better for she felt the muscles
beneath her fingers ripple as his body stiffened. But she was weary of fighting
with him, and only wanted to leave. So she quickly finished what she came to do,
his arm clean and neatly bandaged before she turned away.
"I truly am sorry," she told him softly, stopping
by the door but not turning to look at him, her dark head bent in defeat,
"not just for what happened to Hikaru, but also for what happened this
morning - I know how - it repulsed you, and I just want you to know that - it
won't happen again." Her voice had become unsteady, a note of pain
creeping into it, and so she stopped speaking and drew a steadying breath.
"I'm quite tired, so I think I'll wish you good night, Murakumo."
And then she fled the room, leaving him staring after her,
his face still blank but his steel grey eyes seething with suppressed emotion.
He had taken a step to go after her before he realized what he was doing and
then he forced himself to stop. Turning around, he stretched out on the bed,
still fully clothed and closed his eyes, his mind struggling to come to grips
with everything that he had learned and trying at the same time to suppress
those defiant feelings that made him want to focus on nothing but Midori.
His had been a brilliantly simple plan, he thought
infuriated; a plot worthy of the leader of the Aragami. - So why was Fate making
everything so damnably difficult?