Dreamer Awakened
CHAPTER TWETNY-SEVEN
Midori rolled over, her short, dark hair falling into her eyes, and groaned. She moved to push the hair away and grimaced at the sharp jab of pain that shot through her hand. It was so stiff, she could barely flex it, and her arm felt even worse. It had been bothering her all night, making it impossible to find an easy position. And to top it all off, there was the soreness between her legs – she didn't even want to think about that one, she told herself with a grimace, since it was an indirect result of why she was awake. All night long, she had tried to keep the dark hair and steel grey eyes of the man who slept in the room down the hall from dominating her thoughts; an task that she hadn't even remotely succeeded at.
Midori slowly opened her eyes and with a sigh looked at her clock. Five a.m. – only half an hour later than the last time she looked. And apart from the bright red, luminescent numbers of her digital clock, the room was shaded in darkness. The stillness around her was so complete that it felt as if the entire world was holding its breath; waiting, for Midori knew not what. All she knew was, instead of soothing her, she found the quiet heavy and oppressive; the same as the images and emotions that had plagued her during the course of the long night. Finally tired of lying there, she pushed herself up and out of the bed, her body protesting with every step she took.
She should take a shower, she silently advised herself, but she felt too weary to make the effort just now. So she moved to the closet instead and got dressed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a baggy, soft blue sweater. She needed the extra room in the sleeves so that the fabric didn't constantly rub against her extremely sore arm. Running a quick brush through her shiny brown hair, she tucked the short strands behind her ears, her stomach beginning to knot up as she picked up the solution for Murakumo's mitama that she had left sitting on her nightstand, before she headed out her bedroom door.
Trying not to think too much, she padded down the hall to his room, looking at the bottle clutched tightly between her white-knuckled fingers. Seeing how tense they were, she made herself relax them, stopping just outside his door to take a calming breath. In and out; make it quick, she told herself as she opened the door.
She took a small step into the dim room and pulled up short when she saw that the bed was empty. The coverlet was only slightly wrinkled from where Murakumo had been lying on top of it earlier, but the sheets hadn't even been pulled back. Surely he hadn't gone again? Midori speculated in dismay. The room felt frigidly cold and she pulled her arms around her body as the crispness of fresh air brushed against her face and filled her nostrils with the smell of winter. The window was open, she realized with a start.
Her gaze automatically shifted to the left and she saw the blinds had been opened and the sheer curtains fluttered ever so slightly from the air currents coming through the wide open sash - but there was no sign of Murakumo anywhere.
He had gone again, came the appalled thought, and she rushed over to the window and stuck her head out, jumping out of her skin when she heard a voice from behind her. It surprised her so badly that she whacked her head against the wooden frame.
"Looking for me?" came Murakumo's soft voice.
WHAM!
"Agh!" Midori jerked her head in from outside and put her bandaged hand to the back of her head along the line of pain that now radiated against her skull. She spun around and looked at him standing close behind her, an enigmatic expression on his pale face. "Where were you?" she demanded, trying to keep her voice level even though her brown eyes were accusing, irked at him for not being where she had expected him to be.
"Over there," he told her.
Her expression turned sheepish as she followed his pointing finger to the small computer desk and chair that was positioned behind the door. She hadn't even thought to look in that direction when she came in. When she had seen that his bed was empty she had automatically focused on the open window, the possibility that he still might still be in the room had never once crossed her mind.
Midori saw Murakumo give her a searching look, his eyes sweeping critically over her face, which she had found, while she had was brushing her hair, looking plainer than ever due to her fatigue. He must have thought so too, for he abruptly turned away from her and returned to the desk chair. She watched him straddle it with his legs so that his arms were propped against the top. He leaned forward then, his hands dangling over the back, and let his eyes return to her, his gaze piercing and disturbing. She found it hard to meet his gaze and so she let her eyes drop to his long white fingers, completely unaware that she had been occupying a good portion of his thoughts for the last five or six hours – along with the other portion that had been taken up with sorting through what had occurred between he and Susano-oh.
"Why aren't you in bed?" she asked his fingers awkwardly.
"Why aren't you?" he replied, his eyebrows soaring over his eyes in a challenging way when Midori's eyes skittered back to his face when he turned the question back on her.
He rattled her so easily, she thought in irritation as she felt a dull flush creep across her face. She turned away from him then, gazing out of the window while she struggled to regain some of her lost composure.
"I brought the solution for your mitama," she explained stiffly. "It really needs to be applied."
"No, it doesn't," he retorted and she swiveled around as if to argue with him but he didn't let her speak as he continued, "the mitama has been completely repaired." At her look of disbelief, he gave a snort of laughter and unwound himself from around the chair, standing and pulling his shirttail free from his trousers as he slowly walked back in her direction. "Here, see for yourself," he told her.
He pulled the shirt up and over his head catching up the long strands of his hair inside of it so that when he finally pulled free of it, the jet black waves came cascading haphazardly back down, some falling across his face, obscuring one of his eyes, and the rest, tumbling down his shoulders to brush again his chest. Midori watched his approach wide-eyed, trying not to let his nearness affect her as he came to a stop just inches from her, but it was useless. Her heart began to thump heavily in her chest anyway.
Murakumo kept his eyes pinned steadily to her, a slight, knowing smile curling the corners of his mouth into a slight smile when he saw the trepidation in her expression. He finally understood what it meant. She was not afraid that he would hurt her, she was just afraid that he would touch her.
And so she should be, came a small voice from the back of his mind, and his smile widened ever so slightly.
Before Midori could react, Murakumo reached down and grabbed her hand bringing up to his chest and placing it against his mitama, letting it stroke against the unblemished smoothness of its surface.
"Do you feel it?" he asked lowly.
Midori jerked her hand away from him, a frown marring her face, not quite comprehending the predatory look he was giving her. What was he trying to do, she wondered, bewildered, when it had been clearly obvious from yesterday's fiasco that she repulsed him?
"I – I can see quite plainly that it no longer has any cracks in it," she told him sharply. "- But I just don't understand how…" Her voice trailed off in a puzzled fashion.
"Magic," he told her with a cryptic smile.
Midori snorted and turned away, thinking that he was making fun of her.
A gust of wind came through the window, making the blinds scrape back and forth against the glass pane before it hit her in the face and a shiver went up her spine. She clenched her teeth together to keep them from chattering, and realized that even though she had only been in the room for a few moments, she was already frozen solid. She shot a quick look over her shoulder at Murakumo, her eyes flitting down to his bare chest and wondered how he could seem so unaffected by the iciness of the room. Was it because he was Aragami that extreme temperature didn't bother him?
"Don't you get cold?" she asked him diffidently, turning back around to face him and wrapping her arms tighter around her body.
"Yes," he replied and she waited for him to add something further, but he didn't.
He just continued to stare at her in that unnerving fashion and she stuck her tongue out and moistened her suddenly dry lower lip, tensing as he suddenly took another step closer, bringing him too close for her heart to feel safe.
She turned back to the window then, but threw her next words back over her shoulder, her voice sounding nervous and edgy in her own ears, "Well, if you're cold, then you won't mind if I close the window, will you?"
She put the bottle she had been carrying on the windowsill but before she could reach up his voice stopped her. "No, leave it open. I like the smell."
"The smell?" she repeated faintly, a note of inquiry in her voice. She felt him press even closer to her then, so that if she leaned back just a fraction of an inch, she would come into contact with the warm skin of his chest.
"Can't you smell it? The trees and the earth? The clean scent of nature at rest?" he wanted to know, "or are you humans incapable of…"
Suddenly angry beyond all reason, she rounded on him, a militant gleam in her eyes.
"Why do you have to think you're so superior to everyone!?" she demanded shrilly. "You think that I'm not capable of understanding or sensing the changes in the earth just because I'm human? You think that because you're Aragami that makes you the only one in this room capable of appreciating the sky above and the earth below, and all of the facets of nature in between? It doesn't! I understand all of that, too! I understand it better than you, in fact," she stormed wildly poking a finger into his chest, " I'm not the one trying to destroy an entire species! - You are!" she added with another poke.
"- And contrary to your opinion, Murakumo, there is nothing wrong with being human!" she continued defiantly, trying to bring her voice down to a normal decibel level. "Besides that; I think I'm a pretty darn good person, even for a human!" She punctuated her defense of herself by stoutly thumping herself in the chest with her good hand, her brown eyes brightly illuminated with her ire.
Midori watched Murakumo's face, her breathing rapid and her mouth pulled into a tight line, expecting his expression to darken like a thundercloud at any moment. It didn't. Instead, his mouth twisted into a wry grimace and he gave a harrumph of laughter.
"For a human, " he told her softly, "You 're quite amazing."
Midori's mouth fell open in utter astonishment, too shocked by his admission to try and pull away when he brought his hand up and cupped her face, his fingers warm and gentle against the chill of her skin. The bright anger in her eyes died out and her expression clouded over, once again becoming bewildered, as she was unable to reconcile his sudden softness with his complete and utter rejection from yesterday.
"You defy what I know and what I have seen of your kind, Midori. But I have ceased trying to understand why you behave the way you do. Instead I must try and understand what it is that I have failed to consider, - " he stopped abruptly, a tense expression on his face.
Midori sensed he was struggling with something and she expected him to withdraw from her, but he didn't. If anything his steel grey eyes became more probing, sliding over her face with a fierce intensity. " – It is hard to let go of what I know," he told her, "- but not impossible…"
Midori just looked more confused than ever, and she felt his fingers glide from her cheek to the back of her head, applying a gentle pressure to bring her closer to him as he leaned down. She wondered if he was going to kiss her, but he didn't. He just continued to speak, his voice softly mesmerizing.
"It's not impossible," he whispered, his light grey eyes boring into her dark ones, as if he found the answer to a hard fought conclusion in their soft velvety depths, "because of what one silly girl has shown me… Because of this, I must now depart from what I have accepted as truth, depart from the path of my father and seek to find my own way. The gods have deemed it necessary, and I – I now demand it of myself."
Still not understanding, Midori struggled to make sense of what he was telling her, going over it in her mind.
"Then I guess… what you're saying is… that with your mitama completely healed, you'll… you'll be leaving?" Midori asked slowly, torn over how she hoped he would reply.
Murakumo let go of her then and pulled back a little, not saying anything at first, looking almost surprised that she had asked him that question. It was almost as if he hadn't given much thought to the issue. And then, before he could respond, they were interrupted by the sound of a blood-curdling scream coming from somewhere else inside the house. Midori's head jerked around and her eyes widened. She recognized that high-pitched wail.
"Oh, no!" she breathed and pulled away from Murakumo heading towards the door, leaving him standing watching her curiously.
It was Yuji, her brother.
What was he doing home? She thought, panicked. She listened to the sound of hysterical laughter and followed it into the kitchen, her heart dropping to her feet when she realized what it was he was so upset about: his hardwood floor. He must have seen the mess she had made of it.
Midori flew into the kitchen and skidded to a halt, staring at her brother, her remorseful look tinged with long-suffering. She adored her brother, but his love of his home and all his little gadgets and toys he filled it with sometimes bordered on the fanatical. He was so very possessive about his things, guarding them almost like they were his children instead of mere objects. And he had always been that way too. Even when they had been kids. Midori had learned early on to steer clear of anything that could be broken, bent or scratched. She had discovered that it was the best way to keep her otherwise mild mannered brother from sliding into an apoplectic fit.
She watched him now; his hands clutching fistfuls of hair on either side of his head, hopping up and down like an energetic jumping bean. His moans of lamentation were broken every so often by an outburst of hysterical laughter. He was making so much noise, that it took him a moment to realize that she was there, despite the fact that she had called his name at least three times.
When he finally did see her, enough of the insanity gripping him faded so that he could utter her name with some semblance of normality. For a brief moment he was her beloved Yuji before the ravening beast took over and he was once again sucked into the heart of his frenetic tirade.
"Midori," he mumbled in surprise, "I saw your car, but I didn't think you'd actually be here. Do you know mother and father are worried sick about you?" he asked her, and then before she had a chance to say anything, he vice turned shrill, becoming hysterical. "My beautiful floor!! It's ruined, totally ruined! Look at this! Did you see this!?" he railed at her, and before she realized it, his hand shot out and he snagged her by the arm, dragging her ruthlessly towards him, his fingers made unintentionally harsh by the strong emotion gripping him. "What the heck happened here, Midori? Did you do this!?" He demanded giving her arm a rough shake.
Midori felt all of the blood drain from her face, and she sucked in her breath as searing pain rushed up her arm and exploded. Her stomach suddenly began churning with the intensity of it, her brother's fingers continuing to bite cruelly into her lacerated wound, and she made a gagging sound, unable to control the tumultuous pitch of her insides. Yuji didn't even notice. He was too distraught over the damage to his floor to pay any attention to his little sister's sudden, sickly green color.
Little black spots began to swim before Midori's eyes and she felt her knees begin to buckle, her brother's voice coming from a distance now. She was just seconds from making a resounding splat against the floor when she heard an order issued to her brother somewhere over her head.
"Let go of her, you pathetic little worm, before I rip your arm off!" Murakumo snarled menacingly.
What was he doing? Midori thought in horror as she heard her brother's screech of alarm. Midori wanted to snap at Murakumo not to threaten her brother, but the words wouldn't come. It took her a moment before she could get her mouth open without gagging, and when she finally managed it, all that came out was a low moan as her knees finally gave way and she headed for the floor, a wave of black engulfing her senses.
She opened her eyes a few minutes later, disoriented, her body stretched out the full length of the sofa, staring at the plasterwork of the ceiling. Her stomach was still churning, but not quite as badly, and her arm felt heavy; throbbing with a dull fire that had been burning uncontrollably only just moments before. She felt a slow, wet trickle down her arm and realized that with all of the mad jostling, the gash had reopened. It would need to be re-bandaged now she mused, fuzzily, blinking several times, before she tried cautiously sitting up, still woozy headed, to see her brother propped up on the armchair across from her.
At least he was no longer practically foaming at the mouth, Midori thought with relief, noting with that he seemed curiously subdued; much more so than was normal for him, as a matter of fact. And then she realized why. There was a look of abject terror settled across his features as he stiffly sat on the edge of his chair, his eyes glued to the end of the sofa not two feet from her.
Midori didn't have to wonder what had him so keyed up. She knew even before she turned her head, following Yuji's line of sight what she would find. Sure enough there was Murakumo, now once again fully dressed, his hip propped against the edge of the sofa, his arms crossed, and a threatening scowl on his handsome face as he glared at her brother.
"Stop that!" Midori snapped at him in a thready voice, not quite recovered.
At her words, Murakumo's head turned in her direction, but his glare did not abate. If anything, his expression became even more severe, now focusing his anger on her instead of her brother.
"Stop what?" he inquired arrogantly, looking down his nose at her, noting that her face still had a greenish white cast to it.
"You know very well what!" she retorted tartly, her eyebrows inching together over her dark eyes. His haughtiness riled her and lent strength to her voice, despite how puny she felt at the moment. "You're trying to intimidate my brother in your usual high-handed fashion!"
"Oh really?" Murakumo replied coolly, one eyebrow soaring at her accusation. Without stirring from his casually negligent pose, he swiveled his basilisk stare back to Yuji. His cold grey eyes locked with Midori's brother's brown ones and he inquired icily, "Have I said anything to intimidate you in the few moments that Midori had been unconscious?"
Yuji looked like he wanted to scream YES! But instead he clamped his lips together, as if he were afraid that any sound that might slip past them would mean certain annihilation, and he violently shook his head back and forth. Murakumo turned his head, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
"There, you see?" he told her with a wave of his hand, "I have done nothing. Other than save you from splitting your head open on the kitchen floor when you passed out. - Which I wouldn't have had to do if this -" he paused and shot a nasty look at Yuji, making the petite man shrink back into his chair, as if trying to disappear completely, "- this pathetic little muckworm that you call 'brother' hadn't treated you so violently."
"You're doing it again!" she complained. She resisted the urge to put her hand against the throbbing wetness slowly trickling down her arm under sleeve. Instead she rose unsteadily to her feet to step between her brother and Murakumo, trying to block Murakumo's view of Yuji.
"I am doing nothing but stating the facts," he fumed. He pushed away from the sofa so that he could tower over her, and Midori was too short to hinder him from shooting his black looks over the top of her head towards her brother. After a moment however, his gaze pivoted from Yuji back to Midori.
Murakumo looked down at her, his mouth pulled into a forbidding frown and Midori stared back up at him, her frown becoming just as fierce. Their gazes locked in a stalemate.
He may have said that he had given up trying to understand her, and yet as she stood there, once again trying to defend the indefensible actions of another; he found that a part of him just couldn't let go of trying to analyze that extremely irritating part of her. But his irritation didn't last long when he was forced to ask himself: why she was it. Was she doing it because it was her nature to defend others? Or was it simply because she felt the need to defy him, struggling against the feelings he had seen in her face the night before?
Suddenly he wanted - no - he needed to know if that was the case and so after a moment, he demanded, "Why do you take his side, Midori? How can you dismiss so lightly the pain that he was causing you?"
"How was he to know he was hurting me?" Midori continued, defending her brother hotly.
"All he had to do was take one look at your face and he would have known. It was clear to see that you were close to collapse – but he was too busy shaking the fool out of you and cursing the gods about the damage that had been done to his floor to see that you were seconds away from unconsciousness! His callousness," Murakumo replied, his voice taking on a distinctively cutting edge as he looked over the top of Midori's head to where Yuji stood, "is just what I have come to expect from your kind."
Thoroughly disgusted, Murakumo dismissively turned away then, and prowled over to the window to watch the sun rise, the sky gleaming gold with pale streaks of crimson clouds, trailing outward against a darker blue-grey.
"Your kind?" Yuji echoed, perplexed, his dark eyes, so much like his sister's, flickering briefly to the tall stranger standing by the window before focusing on his sister. "What does he mean by 'your kind'?"
"Oh, well," Midori stalled, biting her lip and twirling the short lock of hair lying against her cheek around her finger, desperately trying to think of something to tell her brother, "he just… means… siblings – brothers and sisters. – Murakumo is - an only child," she stuttered hastily. She shot a nervous look over at the broad shoulders of the object of their conversation and wondered if what she was telling her brother about him being an only child was the truth or a lie… "He has never really understood the, er, complexities of the bond shared between a brother and a sister."
"I see," Yuji replied after a moment's cogitation, his gaze sliding uncertainly from his sister's tense face, to Murakumo's back and then back to his sister's face again.
"Yuji, I'm really sorry about your floor," Midori started apologizing, feeling that it needed to be said. "It was an accident - I was doing a little research for work and –"
"Never mind," Yuji said, looking a little shamefaced, his eyes showing his concern for his sister. "What I want to know is what happened to you?" he pointed to the heavy bandage wrapped around her hand as he spoke, " and what you're doing, hiding out here?"
Midori started at his questions, her eyes widening apprehensively and her expression becoming nervous.
"Hiding? Ha! Ha-ha!" she forced a laugh, hoping her brother wouldn't notice how insincere it sounded. "Whatever gave you the silly notion that I'm hiding?"
"Come on, Midori," he responded quietly, trying not to notice that the tall, dark and brooding stranger had turned from the window and had rejoined them. Yuji shot a sideways glance at Murakumo before edging nervously away from him. Then he focused his attention back on his sister, trying very hard to forget the existence of the disturbing man. "Mother called me, beside herself with worry. She told me that no one knew where you were – not even that girl from the TAC –"
"Momiji," Midori automatically inserted when he hesitated, groping for the name.
"- that girl, Momiji, that you've become such good friends with – " he obediently repeated the name, "Mother said Momiji had called, worried about you; although, she tried to hide it from Mother – and Mother received phone calls from several other members of the Terrestrial Administration Center as well. They were all worried that something terrible had happened to you," he informed her sternly, "I was too. That's why I came home early. I caught the first plane from New York back to Tokyo as soon as I could – and even though your car was parked in the drive, I never dreamed that I would find you here with – " Yuji refrained from adding 'someone', but Midori could feel the unspoken word hanging between them before he changed it to, "- with, with… without telling me that you were going to be here while I was gone. It's not that I mind you staying here, Midori," he reassured her, not wanting her to think she wasn't welcome in his home, " you know that. But the point is, you should have told someone where you were."
As he finished speaking, Midori watched her brother's eyes surreptitiously slide back to Murakumo, trying to figure out what her sister was doing with such strange and overly hostile individual. Warning bells began going off inside her head. She was going to have to think of something to tell him, and quick; otherwise, her brother would end up divulging Murakumo's existence - not that it really mattered anymore since he was fully recovered. But because she loved him, Midori couldn't keep herself from wanting to continue to protect him, despite the fact that he had told her he would destroy her, and was now probably powerful enough to do so.
"Well you needn't have bothered rushing back home on my behalf, Yuji," Midori assured him, "I'm fine. I just needed a little break from the tedium of work and decided to crash at your place for a while."
"Still," Yuji insisted, refusing to let it drop, "- it's not like you to just disappear without a word to anyone, Midori. "
"There was a reason, Yuji," Midori told him, giving him a meaningful look.
She had hoped he would understand the lie she was trying to imply and save her the humiliation of having to spell it out with Murakumo standing right there at her elbow. But the implication was completely lost on her brother as he simply stood there and blinked stupidly at her, waiting for her to explain just exactly what that reason was.
"I can't think of any one occasion where you would need…" Yuji began and trailed off into uncomfortable silence as he watched his sister lean towards the dark haired stranger and slide her arm around his waist, her face going from pale white to fiery red in a matter of seconds.
Midori prayed that Murakumo wouldn't jerk away from her as she nervously slid her hand around him. She quickly tipped her head to look up at him, her eyes pleading for him to understand, and saw the flash of surprise in his eyes before that bored, arrogant expression was once more in place and he turned to look challengingly at Yuji.
Midori thought it would have been more convincing if he had moved to put his arm around her as well, but he didn't. But apparently the look he was giving Yuji was enough, for her brother's gaze dropped to the floor then, a dull color creeping across the ridge of his cheekbones, and he awkwardly cleared his throat.
"I would think it was, er, obvious, Yuji," Midori explained softly, her embarrassment making her voice sound muffled in her own ears. "I wanted to be alone with Murakumo," she hesitated, trying not to choke on his name. "But I knew that Mother and Father would hardly approve, so – I decided to take some time off for a while. I haven't been gone that long, so, I don't know why everyone's so worried.
And as you can see, there isn't anything for them to worry about – and this is nothing," she added, raising her bandaged hand up when she saw her brother's dubious gaze swing downwards and become even more skeptical, "I, er, burned my hand while cooking. But other than that, I'm perfectly fine. Now that you're back, though, I think it's safe to say that my vacation is at an end. I don't want to impose on you, so I think it's time that I return to -" she began, but broke off when she felt Murakumo's body suddenly jerk and stiffen. Midori slid a sideways glance up at him, but he had focused his attention on the wall, his eyes moving over it, staring intently at it as if there was something more there besides the white paint.
"Y-you don't have to leave, Midori," Yuji began, not wanting his sister to feel like he was kicking her out, but not thrilled with the idea of having her… companion remain as well. The idea of having to sit down to dinner with him was a bone chilling one, enough to make Yuji want to stop eating altogether. So he tried not to think about it as he continued offering his hospitality in a dogged fashion, "you know you're welcome to stay –" he began, unable to keep his eyes from sliding fearfully to Murakumo.
"I must leave," Murakumo interrupted abruptly, pulling away from Midori.
Midori watched him, her mouth open in dismay as he went to the window and looked out, and she couldn't stop herself from saying, "Right now? Right this minute?" even though she knew how desperate it sounded.
Murakumo turned and gave her a distracted look before hurriedly moving towards the front door, "Yes, right now," he threw over his shoulder while he pushed his feet into his shoes and yanked the front door open.
"W-wait!" Midori called, ignoring the look on her brother's face at their odd un-lover like behavior as she hurried after Murakumo, shoveling her feet into her own shoes and scooting out the door after him.
Murakumo heard Midori's voice but he ignored her for the moment, continuing to move forward, his eyes intently raking the sky. He had been sensing the presence of another Aragami soul approaching, but it wasn't until just a few moments ago that he realized that it was not Sekage's soul, the servant he had sent to find his son, but the souls of Kusanagi, that he felt. Kusanagi must have felt his summons too, Murakumo concluded, and was now coming to confront him.
Never in his life had Murakumo run from a battle.
Until now.
And even now, it went against his nature to do so. Kusanagi had always been his enemy. And the hostility and hatred for the half human's rebellion from the Aragami kingdom still burned with a furious intensity inside Murakumo, urging him to stay and face the half breed. Yesterday, he would have heeded the blood lust that sang through his veins. He would have drawn his blade in welcome for the green-haired man fast approaching and would have taken any opening to defeat him. And had Murakumo been successful, he would have watched with intense satisfaction as the life's blood flowed away from the imperfect soul who had become the thorn long embedded in his side.
But today, he could do none of those things. For after a long night of struggle, the sunrise had brought a death to Murakumo's past, slaying his shadowed memories and loyalties with the brightness of its rays, dissolving them and revealing them to be built upon a truth that had never existed. And now all that remained were his unresolved feelings of antagonism that would serve him ill in any confrontation if he were to stay and await his… brother. He must leave now if he wanted to ensure that the energy trail from his souls had dissipated enough to avoid having Kusanagi follow him.
Murakumo sprang forward then, taking to the air, anxious to be away, but Midori's voice called to him yet again.
"Stop!" she cried breathlessly, "Murakumo, please!"
Every nerve in his body told him he had no time to lose, but he found himself hesitating, unable to ignore the note of entreaty in her voice. He remained hanging motionless in the air, staring off into the distance for a moment longer before returning to the ground with an exasperated sigh.
He waited with strained patience for her to reach him, irritably wishing that she would hurry and say whatever it was she wanted to say. But when he turned and looked over his shoulder at her, some of his impatience died at the lost expression on her face, and a foreign emotion grabbed his stomach and twisted it into a knot.
"I – I," she began and stopped, her mouth still working but no sound coming out.
Now that she had his attention, she didn't know what it was she wanted to say. What was she going to do, wish him luck? she asked herself perversely. That would be rather stupid! Especially since she was well aware that his goal was to destroy humanity. So why had she run out here after him, desperate to stop him before he left?
To tell him goodbye, a voice whispered to her, to see his face one last time, perhaps. Because after today, her life would resume its normal course, and for a while - at least until she heard rumblings from the TAC regarding any trouble that Murakumo might be stirring up by then – things were going back to the way they should be. But instead of feeling happy or relieved about it, Midori wanted to cry, the ache in her chest so heavy that it threatened to suffocate her.
She would never have another chance to speak to him, never have a chance, she realized, the ache intensifying even more, to see that part of him that she had longed to see. For it had never manifested itself clearly enough for her to see here in Ise, and now she knew that it never would…
"I wanted to say goodbye before you left," she managed to mumble numbly.
Without realizing it, she had reached out and wrapped her fingers around his arm as she had spoken to him, looking up at him, her heartache clearly reflected in her brown eyes.
But Murakumo wasn't looking into her eyes. He was looking at her hand and seeing the crimson stained band of her sweater sleeve. Pulling free of her grasp, he grabbed her arm with both hands and gently shoved the material up her arm to her elbow, leaving a trail of smeared blood along her forearm. He swore softly under his breath and Midori tried to pull her arm away, but he held it firmly in his grasp so she was unable to break free.
"I know what you're thinking," she told him and bit her lip when he finally turned his furious eyes upon her face.
"Do you?" he challenged softly.
"But it's not his fault, Murakumo – he didn't know," she reiterated, adding rather hurriedly, "and it doesn't hurt any more – at least not much, so it doesn't matter – "
"You're wrong," he cut in, "It is his fault, no matter how much you may try to excuse him – and it matters to me."
He gave a gentle yank on her arm as he spoke the last word, not enough to cause her any pain, but enough so that she stumbled against him. As Midori toppled into him, she found herself trapped, anchored in place by his other arm that had come up and wrapped itself around her waist and she heard his voice start up again somewhere over her head.
"If I had time, I would make sure –" he began in a threatening manner, but stopped abruptly when he felt her stiffen against him. He tried to relax and took a deep breath so that when he again continued speaking, his voice was softer, as he tried his best, despite the urgent need to be away, not to hurt her. "I cannot stay, Midori," he told her. He finally let go of her arm so that he could stroke the palm of his hand against the softness of her hair, and she pressed her face into his chest, closing her eyes tightly against the sting of tears. "I feel an old enemy approaching. I cannot fight him. Not now, at any rate, so I must leave before he arrives."
His arm tightened around her briefly before he finally loosened it and held her away from him. He looked down into her eyes for a long moment and then leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers in a soft, lingering kiss.
"Thank you, Midori," he whispered as he let his lips drift away from hers, his face still inches from hers and his eyes still closed, "for saving me."
Midori felt the warmth of his embrace slip away, and she kept her eyes closed, trying futilely to stop the pool of tears from slipping free. When she did finally open them, Murakumo had disappeared from sight.
Midori looked at the early morning sun that had just peaked over the horizon; the signal to the beginning of a new day, and the end of her time in Ise. She heard her brother slip out of the door and, with tentative steps, approach her. He called her name, but she didn't say anything for a moment, trying to get her emotions back under control.
"You know you are welcome to stay as long as you like," he told her, anxiously looking sideways at her distraught expression.
Midori gave him a watery smile before she embraced him, saying, "Thank you, dear brother. But I think it's time for me to return to Tokyo."