Okay…

I must address this. I thank each and every one of you who has reviewed my work. Words cannot describe how much it means to me. Due to your responses, I will now explain my thoughts on Murakumo.

I have always kind of liked him…but that's me. I usually like the bad guy, I don't usually root for him, but I do think said antagonist is usually pretty kick ass. Murakumo seemed to me like the kind of guy who, if in the right circumstances (ie sans Aragami), would be "the cool kid on the playground". You know him…he's the one that's good at everything, suave, sexy and seemingly unattainable. However…he's usually an emotional black hole as well, with some terrible dysfunction of some kind or another…social phobia…abuse…a desperate need for attention…you name it. Everyone seems to know this…yet this cool kid still has the power to make you believe you are subhuman in some awful way…and you come crawling back for more. (and of course I don't mean you…I mean…eh…you know what I mean). He's fun to write about…for me anyways. I would have liked it if he were in the series more.

I know this doesn't help those who detest him already…but I thought I could maybe shed some light on the reasons I chose him for this piece.

I have decided against a soundtrack for this chapter, and all chapters to follow unless I am requested to post another one. It's just too much work timing the reading and all, since I don't think anyone is actually using it. It was kind of a silly idea to begin with I suppose, and now the chapters can be posted faster because there isn't as much post-production.

And with no further ado…Chapter 4…

Murakumo looked up at Momiji. "Are you uncomfortable?" he asked her as he began shifting pillows around.

"Yes…but not like that. I can't…do this. It's wrong"

Her words were slow, like she was forcing each one through her lips. Murakumo knew this…he could smell it…like fear.

He gripped her waist and yanked her towards him. He spoke into her neck, his voice low and smooth. "Does it really feel that wrong to you Princess?"

Before Momiji had time to respond he had worked her down so that she lay on her back. He loomed over her, his arms planted on the couch at both sides of her. He looked so primal…like a cat skulking over to its prey. Momiji felt like that prey…scared out of her mind, but unable to take her eyes off of the means to her own destruction.

Somehow, she managed to writhe out from underneath him and get to her feet. "Look Murakumo, I can't…I won't…and if you give a damn about what I think…you'll just let me gather my things and leave." She let out a deep breath, glad the words had left her.

Murakumo sat up and ran his hand through his hair. Neither of the two spoke for what seemed like a very long time. Finally, without a word, he stood and sauntered over to table in the corner. He took out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag and letting it out slowly before speaking. "If you need to go…go"

"Thank you"

Momiji began to gather her things in haste and made her way to the door. She stopped just short of the handle and turned around to face him "Hey…I…um…"she trailed off. She realized she didn't know exactly what it was she wanted to say and stepped out of the apartment.

Once outside Murakumo's line of vision she leaned against the door and began to slide down until she came to rest on the floor. She began to weep. The hand that covered her mouth did not shield a few of the salty tears that made their way past her fingers and onto her lips. After a few moments she stood and wiped her face and began to make her way home.

Murakumo sighed. He had hoped this night would end on a different note. He put out his cigarette and released the last bit of smoke from his lungs before swiping his shirt off of the floor and putting it back on. He felt his insides nagging at him. He knew…somewhere…that he missed her…that he wanted her to come back…that he was lonely. He shook the thought away…it made him weak. He wasn't so much opposed to human emotion these days, but he figured that if he couldn't have it…and he wanted it…and the lack of it caused him any pain…it didn't exist. He picked up his phone and dialed a number after flipping through the black book the phone rested on to find said number.

"Tara….hi"… "yes I know what time it is"…. "well I just thought you might want to come and keep me company"… "you know who this is"… "its Murakumo"… "hello?"

"Bah! Sleep it is then…" He headed to his bedroom for some well needed rest pissed off, painfully aroused and with a lump in his throat that seemed to go hand in hand with the stinging in his brain he tried so hard to ignore.

Momiji walked slowly towards home somewhat disoriented. She was barefoot, with her heels hanging from her fingers. Thoughts bounced in her head like rubber balls from one wall to another. Murakumo…his body…her shame…her want…Kusanagi…her guilt…his anger….their love…

Without really making a conscious decision to do so she took off running at full speed. Her arms flung open letting all of her belongings fall to the ground to be left behind. Her hands were reaching out to something….somewhere….her eyes welled with tears…she ran. She knew not where. She was angry at herself for losing control…she was angry at Murakumo for evoking things in her she didn't know what to do with…she was angry at Kusanagi for not being the one to evoke them.

She reached a park and fell to her knees. There, with the sun coming up behind her in the desolate stillness of early morning she let out a long cry.

The sun was coming up. Kusanagi sat on the roof of Miyun's apartment watching in silence. He'd left her a note thanking her for listening to him and giving him place to stay.  She would have made a good friend under dissimilar circumstances. He was wondering to himself what he would do next. His whole life had revolved around the Kushinada, and later Momiji lost that title in his mind and heart. His life revolved around her because he loved her, irregardless of her birth right. He decided to take a walk. He had no interest in being around when Miyun woke up. He really didn't feel like going through all of the formalities of departing. The "well call me sometime"s…the "what're you doing next week"s ….He did, however, opt to leave her his jacket. It was scorching hot outside, and she mentioned how much she liked it. It was one less thing to worry about. Hopping down from the roof, he headed towards the park.

Momiji managed to collect herself. She couldn't explain why…but she felt like everything was going to be alright. She wasn't sure where credit was due for her rapid mood change, but lying in the grass with the new sun on her face she felt like she was okay. This wasn't a state to be underestimated. After a feeling of total despair, okay is often welcomed with open arms.

"Maybe I just need a break" she said aloud to herself as she sat up. She got on her feet to head home, still smiling, when she saw him. He looked like a knight walking toward her with the sun behind him. "Kusanagi!!" she yelled.

Kusanagi heard his name. 

"Momiji"

He was ready to rush to her and hold her as tight as he could when he stopped suddenly. His mind was overcome with thoughts of the past two days. Then the guilt set in. He couldn't face her after what he'd almost done. He couldn't face her and know she wasn't his anymore…maybe she never had been. He decided to leave. But before he got the chance she was facing him.

"Kusanagi….hi" she felt stupid for not tackling him and telling him everything she'd been thinking for the last few hours, but couldn't manage to form a single word. She just kept on smiling.

"Momiji…I…you look like hell…what happened?" He noticed her bare feet, messy hair and how her make-up looked like she slept in it…which she never did.

"I was with Murakumo and when I left I came through here and…" her explanation was coming at such a speed she hadn't put much thought into the order of her words and didn't get any farther before Kusanagi turned his back to her.

"I see" Her appearance made sense to him. "Look 

Momiji…take care of yourself okay?" And he was gone.

"Kusanagi….Kusanagi!" she yelled after him. "Please…let me explain!"

It killed him to leave her. But he thought it easier than subjecting himself to her "let's be friends" speech. He heard her calling after him, but did not turn around. He held onto his resolve with an iron fist. It was all he had left.

 He decided to go by her house. He knew she couldn't get there before him and he wanted to stand on the porch one last time. He'd become fond of it having waited there for Momiji on many occasions. He arrived at his destination and approached the steps. He saw something there. It was a large paper bag with a note.

Murakumo couldn't get any sleep. He finally gave up trying and got up to walk it off. He figured he could maybe find something to take his mind off of all of this with a walk through the city. "Maybe I'll get a dog"… "No. no. No furry animals." It disgusted him how accustomed to this life he was becoming.

He started out onto the street. He was enjoying his walk as much as he could with a clouded mind when he stepped on something. It was Momiji's purse. "I suppose my Princess dropped all her things in her escape" he mused to himself. He picked up her shoes, purse and jacket and took them into a shop with him where he asked for a bag. He couldn't decide whether he hoped she'd be home or not. He felt a need to see her, yet he was not sure he could fully cope with rejection. He decided to take his chances.

He knocked on the door. No answer. He almost knocked again and chose against it. He would have to continue his day and find something else…anything else…to occupy his mind. He left her things there satisfied, for the moment, with just returning them to her.

Kusanagi read the note aloud. "Thought you might need these. Love, M." He opened the bag. Inside he saw Momiji's purse, shoes and jacket. His fears were realized. What he'd only assumed earlier he now knew. He felt the tingle behind his eyes again. He crumpled the note in his hand and tossed it to the side. He walked away from the house…Momiji and his life as he knew it. Any semblance of peace he thought he'd achieved crumbled. His anger and hurt came rushing back to him like a tidal wave with a target.

He headed home. He wanted to forget his life had ever happened. He wanted to find the edge of the earth and leap away into nothingness. But for now, some sleep would have to do.

Kusanagi opened the door to his tiny apartment. He hadn't needed much space. He spent most of his time at Momiji's house. His house might as well have been a shrine to the girl that was the Kushinada. There were pictures of her everywhere. At every turn there was something reminiscent of Momiji. He tried to ignore it all. He tried to calmly make his way to the bathroom and then the bed to fall into a peaceful rest.

Not in this lifetime.

He got in two steps towards the bed before turning to the picture on the wall. It was a simple candid. A 5x7 snapshot of the two of them sitting together smiling. Momiji had Kome's baby girl on her knee. It was taken two weeks after the child had been born to Kome and Yagashi. He'd framed the photo and put it on his wall because it always made him smile. It made him think of what it would be like when they would have children. They looked so happy…it looked like it was their family…and it made him sick.

Kusanagi lunged at the picture with his fist, smashing the glass with a powerful blow and knocking it into the floor. He kicked the bent frame under the bed. He couldn't stop now. The fuse had been ignited on her doorstep and now it was time for the explosion. He swept his arm over the table at his bedside, sending everything on it crashing to the floor. In the bathroom he kept a small basket of her things. Things she'd forgotten, things he'd gotten for her…things he kept forgetting to give to her. He reached it, dumped the contents onto the floor and threw the basket into the wall. Screaming, he picked up the items one by one and tossed them in the general direction of the wastebasket. A bottle of perfume, half gone "trash!" a hairclip "garbage!"…a photo. It was the one she kept in her wallet. The one with her rear in the air. He looked at it with a look on his face that was a strange hybrid of sadness and rage. He relocated to stand in front of the mirror at the sink. His eyes lifted up to see his reflection. He saw the red in his eyes and the tear stains on his cheeks. He snapped his eyes shut. "Fuck" he cursed to himself through gritted teeth and took his fist almost instinctively and shattered the mirror. He slumped to a heap on the floor with his back against the cabinets under the sink amongst the broken glass. The blood ran down his arm as he reached up to grip his head in his hands. He felt like a child… but didn't care. He sat there until sleep overtook him.

Short chapter, I know, but I am writing everyday and I have to stop at some point to get some rest. This way I can go ahead and post the chapter and begin work on the next. As of this after note I am currently half-way through chapter 5. There will be more…soon…very soon…I promise. Please review. And thank you again for taking the time to read my story and put up with my awkward writing at times. This is my first fic.

See you soon,

Reika