This is quite possibly the darkest thing I've ever written. It's also
on a topic that's very important to me, so I actually managed to
finish this on Christmas Day and not feel too bad about it.

Warning: this installment contains graphic descriptions of violence
and child abuse. Any psychic damage done due to nightmares or "Mama's
Hand" flashbacks are not my fault.

Oh, yeah, I don't own the characters or something like that. Whatever.
=^_~=

And yet another thing: since I'm on vacation from the FFML, please
send any responses to me at mitama@yahoo.com. Thanks.

*~* Hidden Fires *~*

Chapter 3: Stigmata / A Soul in the Embers

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

   "Shattered, adolescent
     Bearer of no name
     Restrained, insane games
     Suffer the children condemned

    "Nightmare, the persecution
      A child's dream of death
      Torment, ill forgotten
      A soul that will never rest

    "Innocence withdrawn in fear
      Fires burning can you hear
      Cries in the night . . . . "

                                  - Slayer, "Silent Scream" 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

	"*It's not working, Matsudaira!!!*" Kunikida roared over the din. His
hands were clamped one over the other so tight that his knuckles were
pure white; his brow dripped with sweat as he rhythmically pressed his
fists into Kusanagi's chest, forcing the blood through the man's body.
Takeuchi was crouched beside him, her mouth clamped over the young
man's own, propelling vital air into his lungs. The constant,
high-pitched whine of the flatlined heart monitor reverberated
throughout the room, adding to the urgency of the people inside. "Do
something!"
	Matsudaira rushed to the bedside, hurriedly tapping the air bubbles
out of a large syringe. "Move out of the way!" she ordered, shoving
her boss aside. Her graceful fingers prodded the man's ribs until she
found a spot not far from a weakly throbbing mitama; she plunged the
hypodermic needle through his skin, between the ribs, and straight
into his heart. "Keep working at it, Takeuchi! Yaegashi, get me
another - "
	A single, abnormally rounded heartbeat blipped on the monitor. "Come
on," the scientist urged, injecting another round of stimulants into
the IV shunt. "Help me out here, Kusanagi - " 
	A series of the irregular heartbeats flashed across the monitor.
Within seconds, the rounded marks began increasing in speed and power
until they were flying across the monitor in a blur, sounding off
another alarm. "Damn! He's gone into V-tach! Koume, get the paddles
*NOW!*"
	Koume came flying across the room, pushing a huge machine in front of
her.  She plugged the contraption in; Matsudaira snatched two huge
paddles from the front and rubbed them together. The paddles in her
hands crackled and sparked, teeming with electricity. "Yaegashi,
charge this thing to half-power!" she bellowed, placing the paddles at
ninety-degree angles from each other on Kusanagi's torso. "CLEAR!"
	Everyone jumped back from the bed as she pressed the paddles into his
chest; the young man's body shuddered as the electric charge surged
through him. The reading on the monitor slowed for a brief second,
then sped up faster than before. "Three-quarters power! Ready . . .
CLEAR!" The machine whined as Kusanagi's unconscious frame recoiled
from the shock. The monitor readings spiked once, then flatlined.
	"Charge it as high as it will go, Yaegashi!" Matsudaira shouted over
the uproar. "If this doesn't work, we'll probably lose him!
*CLEAR!!!!!*"
	The crackling charge swept through his body. His mitamas flashed an
intense white from under the paddles; the added charge raised him
almost a foot off the bed as his body was enveloped in a blinding
light.  Momiji, who had been shoved aside in the confusion, screamed
as her mitama flared into life. The corona seemed to reach out with
long, beckoning tendrils that enveloped her body and lifted her from
the floor. Time stopped as the two floated in the air; then, as
suddenly as it had come, the light flickered out of existence. Momiji
fell against Yaegashi and Koume, panting heavily; Kusanagi collapsed
into the bed with a thud and did not move.
	The heart monitor beeped softly, silencing its previous alarms. One
small, weak, but normal heartbeat thumped onto the monitor, followed
by another, until his heart was beating at a slow, regular rhythm. His
mouth parted slightly; the ragged sounds of his breathing accompanied
the tone of his heartbeat. Matsudaira dropped the paddles back into
their slots and sagged against the machine, suddenly exhausted. "He's
all right," she said softly, incredulously. "He's going to live."
	Momiji looked up at the older woman from the floor. The color had
bled from her face, leaving her deathly pale. "Is he . . ." she barely
made out, having to lean up against Yaegashi for support.
	Kunikida stepped towards her, his bloodstained hands reaching out to
comfort her. "It's going to be all right, Momiji," he told her softly.
	The teenaged Kushinada nodded once before fainting dead away.

*~*

	Murakumo staggered through the woods, clutching at the mitamas on his
chest. The sickly light emitting from them was a harbinger, a warning
that something was going wrong.  He groaned as the pain began to
spread throughout his body, intensifying with each passing second.
"Damn," he swore through his teeth. "What's . . . happening . . . . "
He reached out to grab hold of a tree branch to steady himself; his
hands crushed the wood into splinters as another wave of searing pain
ripped through him. "That imperfect soul," he snarled. "This is coming
. . . from him . . . . "
     "Murakumo? Is everything all right?"
     He jerked upright, forcing his voice into a more steady tone.
"Everything . . . is fine, princess Kushinada. Is our lord Susano-O
well?"
     "He's fine." Kaede stepped forward towards him. Her face was
darkened with concern. "Are you sure you're all right? I felt
something . . . an odd sort of feeling, just a minute ago. I don't
know if it was - "
     "I'm sure that everything is going according to our plans,
princess. You need not concern yourself." Murakumo turned towards her;
the pain was easing now, and he could easily hide his discomfort under
a mask of impassiveness.
     She nodded slowly, the moonlight casting a faint glow onto her
face. One hand reached out and touched his shoulder. "I suppose you're
right . . . but if something *is* wrong, tell me, okay?" 
     "I - yes. Of course." Bewildered, he watched her tramp back to
the shrine. His hand strayed to the place where she had touched him.
"Of course . . . . "

*~*

	"What the hell happened in there?"
	The TAC had gathered together in front of the small infirmary to try
and make sense of what had happened. Momiji was fast asleep on a small
cot in the corner; the only ill effect the 'attack' had had on her was
exhaustion. Still, Matsudaira had clustered a few monitors around her
as a precaution.
	The team's main focus, however, was on the central mass of IVs and
monitors in the room. After the strange aurora had enveloped him,
Kusanagi's health had actually *improved* slightly. The raging fever
that had taken him was lowered greatly; his breathing was not quite as
labored as before. Looming beside him, however, was the defibrillator,
ready at a moment's notice in case his heart stopped again.
	Matsudaira sighed and leaned back into the couch, her face troubled.
"I don't know," she finally admitted.
	The group stared at her, startled by her confession. "What d'ya mean,
you don't know?" Koume asked. "You're the Aragami specialist around
here, aren't you?"
	She shot the younger woman a dirty look before continuing. "When I
used the defibrillator on Kusanagi that final time, his mitamas
reacted somehow with the electrical charge. I don't know if that has
to do with how the mitama works within the human body, since the only
subject I've been able to study is Momiji, or if it was an instinctive
call for help."
	Kunikida raised an eyebrow. "A call for help? Why Momiji? Why not
some other Aragami?"
	The scientist shrugged and sipped at her tea. "According to Momiji,
it was the Yamata-no-Orochi itself who gave Kusanagi his seven
mitamas. Orochi was also the same Aragami that appeared in Izumo after
Kaede disappeared. It stands to reason that it only had one mitama
left after giving up seven - "
	"So in other words, Momiji's mitama came from the same source as
Kusanagi's," Takeuchi exclaimed.
	"Probably so," she agreed. "It's the mitamas that give him his
powers, including his incredible healing factor. If they are what is
keeping him alive, then they may have been trying to call on the
eighth and final mitama for more power." 
	Yaegashi spoke up from the corner where Koume had relegated him. "And
it worked, didn't it? He's doing a lot better now - "
	"Maybe he's doing better now," Kunikida said, "but we all saw how
much it took out of Momiji to sacrifice that power to him. We can't
afford to have her get sick to save him - and we don't even know if
the effects will last. He could take a turn for the worse at any
minute."
	There was a long pause. "Something else about this bothers me,"
Matsudaira said.
	Takeuchi looked over at her. "What is it, Matsu?"
	She looked up at the group, her face set in concern. "I still haven't
found a cause for this illness Kusanagi has. My studies all come to
one conclusion; this is some sort of auto-immune disorder. And if his
mitamas can control how ill he becomes, what is there to say that it
isn't the mitamas themselves that are causing it?
	"And if that's true, then with his and Momiji's mitamas sharing such
a close bond, is there a chance that she herself may acquire the same
disease that's killing him now?
	"If that happens, then - "
	The worried faces of the team were a mute answer.

*~* *~* *~*

	"Get back here, you little thief!"
	A young boy, about eight or nine years old, leaped away from the
yakitori chef as he chased him down an alley. His eyes, hidden under
his shaggy hair, glittered with amusement as the man made another
clumsy swipe at him. "What's wrong, old man?" he asked, trying to keep
the laughter out of his voice. "Can't keep up?"
	The older man lunged, panting heavily, and nearly fell on his face.
Again, the boy danced away smiling; he waved the stolen skewers of
chicken just out of the chef's reach. At this point, a small crowd was
beginning to form around the two. Some chuckled at the boy's
insolence; two businessmen went forward to catch the old man before he
fell. "Just wait until the police catches you!" he huffed, his face
turning red from exertion. "You shame your parents and your family,
boy!"
	The child paused for a brief second, then shrugged. Pulling down his
lower eyelid in a gesture of contempt, he leaped into the air- and
disappeared. "Thanks for the food, old man!" his voice echoed through
the alleyway.
	The crowd dispersed as three policemen arrived late on the scene; one
businessman, however, lurked behind after the cursing chef had been
led away. He idly ran a hand over his beard as he studied the deserted
alley. "Tell me," and he turned towards one of the cops, "who was that
boy?"
	He shrugged. "We don't really know, sir. We've gotten complaints
about a kid matching his description several times before, but there's
no way to track a kid down through all the schools here in Tokyo and
the surrounding areas." The policeman paused. "I'd just like to know
what kind of a parent lets his kid dye his hair green."
	The businessman nodded and began to walk away. "I'd like to know the
same thing," he said softly, pulling out his cellular phone. "And I
think I do know . . . ."

	Kusanagi stopped amid a clump of trees outside of a private school
and sat down heavily in the branches. "Just in time," he said to
himself, reclining back. He eagerly began devouring the yakitori
skewers as he scanned the area, finally fixing on one window. Inside,
rows of children were fidgeting in their seats as their teacher
scribbled on the chalkboard. his eyes picked out a familiar face in
the front row; satisfying himself that everything was all right, he
tossed an empty skewer to the ground and began on the other. "Don't
know why I gotta watch the stupid Kushinada anyway," he grumbled
through a mouthful of chicken. 
	As he watched, the school bell rang to end classes for the day.
Children began pouring from the building, happily laughing and
chatting with friends. Kaede, the Kushinada, was right out among them.
The boy leaned forward, watching her dance about. She was happy and
carefree, and for just a moment he was with her, sharing in the joy.
	She looked up towards the tree with a huge smile, and his heart
nearly stopped; Orochi had made it abundantly clear what would happen
to him if Kaede was to ever find out about her protector, and Kusanagi
was none too eager to relive the experience. Her smile faded a bit as
she continued to look around. Finally, she just shrugged and ran to
catch up with her friends.
	The spell of joy was broken. He slumped back against the tree and
folded his arms over his T-shirt. "Don't know what *she's* all excited
about," he muttered. This was the part of his duties that he hated
most; watching his peers leading relatively normal lives brought up
emotions he couldn't even name (Hatred? Loneliness? Longing? Fear? Or
were all these emotions so tightly intertwined that they couldn't be
distinguished?). The boy shoved the feelings back into a corner of his
mind to fester and continued his endless watch of the young girl below.
	Suddenly, the branch he was sitting on shook violently. He looked
down to see a young man around his own age angrily punching the tree
base. The boy wore a heavy backpack over his shoulders, and had his
tousled black hair held out of his face with a yellow bandana. There
was something else, too; Kusanagi could sense it even from his
elevated distance. It was a tangible anger . . . and loneliness. Like
himself. He watched as the other boy finally backed up and shouted to
the sky, "Where am I at *now*???"
	The young Aragami paused and glanced towards the Kushinada. The head
of the TAC was down there now, picking her up, so she would be safe
enough for the time being. His mind wrestled for a moment; Orochi's
directives on interacting with humans were incredibly strict, and he
knew what the punishment would be should his master find out, but . .
. he wanted a friend. He had always just been an outside observer,
never able to experience any of the joys of childhood; here, however,
was his chance to change that.
	He easily leapt down to the ground. "Takada Elementary," he said
softly.
	The other boy whirled around. "Huh?"
	Kusanagi shrank back a bit. "You said you wanted to know where you
were, so . . . you're right behind Takada Elementary School. In Tokyo."
	To his amazement, he grinned in joy. "Really? I'm back in Tokyo? I'm
not far from home!" He paused. "I'm Hibiki Ryouga. Who're you?"
	He stared at the ground nervously, suddenly thankful for the itchy
gloves that Orochi made him wear to hide his mitamas. "I- I'm, um . .
. Kusanagi Mamoru." 
	Ryouga smiled at him. "Thanks a lot, Mamoru! Wanna be friends?"
	He stopped and looked at him in wide-eyed disbelief. "Wh- what?"
	"Do you want to be friends?" Ryouga was still there, standing in the
dust under the maple tree with a lopsided smile on his face. There was
no malice or bad humor, just an open invitation.
	"I- I'd like that," he finally said, smiling with real joy for the
first time in his life.
	Neither boy noticed the dark figure looming in the bushes.

	Kusanagi quickly learned one thing about his new friend: he had
absolutely *no* sense of direction whatsoever. They were supposedly
headed for his family home in Juuban, which Ryouga was telling him
about, but he could already see that getting there was going to take a
while. He kept wandering every few minutes without realizing it.
"You're going the wrong way again, Ryouga," he said gently, tugging on
his knapsack.
	"Oh. Well, let's sit down for a minute; I'm getting hungry." Ryouga
sat down just inside an alley and began rummaging through his
backpack. Soon he yanked out a small bentou smelling deliciously of
broiled fish and vegetables. "I bought this at the train station just
before I ran into you, so it's still good. You want some?"
	"No, thanks," the young Aragami lied; his stomach began grumbling in
protest. He flushed in embarrassment. "Sorry."
	Ryouga shrugged. "I got enough here for both of us. Here," and he
began dishing out a small portion on the bentou lid, "the fish is
really good with the shiitake mushrooms. Go ahead, Mamoru, it's okay."
	He hesitated, the took it gratefully and began shoveling the food in
with his hands, muttering a brief 'thanks' with his mouth full.
"Anyway," Ryouga continued, "like I said before, my mom and dad are
martial artists, but my dad runs a museum most of the time. He says
it's a lot of fun, but I think it's boring. All he does is hang around
really old pots and stuff all day. Maybe if they had some swords or
something, it would be more fun. So what does your dad do?"
	Kusanagi choked on a bite of fish. "My . . . my father?" he rasped
when he could again breathe.
	"Yeah. You know, your dad, the guy you live with. What does he do for
a living?"
	He sat down his empty platter, pondering the question. "Well, I- I
guess that Orochi is my dad now," he said to himself, shuddering
slightly.
	"Orochi? That's a funny name. Your dad really lets you call him that?
And what do you mean, 'now'?" Ryouga leaned forward, openly curious.
	"Yeah, well . . . I think my parents died when I was a baby," he said
softly. "Orochi's never told me what happened, so I don't know for
sure."
	"Oh." The other boy was quiet. "I'm sorry, Mamoru."
	He shrugged. "It's okay. I haven't seen Orochi in over two weeks, so
I don't really know what he's doing now; he left to watch the new TAC
base at Kyoto- uh oh." He froze in fear and glanced about him
worriedly. "I wasn't supposed to say anythin' about that," he said,
dropping his voice to a whisper. "Don't tell anyone, okay, Ryouga?
Orochi'll get real mad at me if he finds out I told you 'bout it."
	"Okay, I promise," he swore, a concerned look on his face. "Will you
be okay?"
	Kusanagi stood up and said with exaggerated bravado, "Sure I will!
Orochi's miles away; he won't find out about it. He couldn't find his-
Ryouga?" The boy paused and looked around. "Ryouga?"
	His friend had disappeared. He glanced down the alleyway anxiously
and caught a flash of yellow turning the corner. "Ryouga! You're going
the wrong way! Wait for me!"

	It didn't take long for Kusanagi to find his friend; three older
boys, probably in their early teens, had backed him into a corner and
were dangling his backpack in front of him. "Come on and jump for it,
kid," one of them teased, laughing as Ryouga lunged towards him.
	The boy stumbled and fell to his knees, tearing his pants and
skinning the flesh. He had to bite his lip to keep from crying. "Aww,"
mocked another, "did the widdle bitty baby fall down? Does him want
his mommy to kiss his boo-boo and make it all betters?"
	"Not 'till she kisses mine first!" the third crowed, sending his
friends into gales of laughter. He could see Ryouga balling up his
fists, shaking with shame and anger.
	That was enough for Kusanagi. "Hey, stupid! Turn around!"
	The group, still laughing, glanced back at him. "I said turn around,
you- you stupid humans!"
	One of the teens turned towards him. "Well, looky who's here!" He
crossed his hands over his heart and sighed. "Oh, I'm sooo scared! I
just can't stand up to- what the *hell*??"
	The mitamas on Kusanagi's hands began glowing through the gloves. He
yanked them off, not caring who saw the blazing souls, and threw them
to the ground. "Back off and leave my friend alone," he growled.
	A bokken suddenly appeared in the main bully's hands. He grinned as
his group began picking up trash and rocks for ammo; one of then
abruptly sat on Ryouga, trying to keep him down. "Make me, you dumb
little shit," he snapped back. "Go for it!"
	Cans, broken glass, and rocks began whizzing past him as they began
their barrage; he rapidly began dodging the projectiles.  His speed
was incredible, but not enough. A jagged bit of glass hit him in the
cheek, tearing a long gash into the flesh. Green blood began to ooze
from the wound and run down his face. "Oh my god," the leader gasped,
pointing. "The little freak ain't even human! He's some kind of
monster! What are you waiting for; get the brat!"
	That was the breaking point. Kusanagi had spent all of his life being
insulted and attacked, and this was the first time he was actually
able to lash out instead of having to put up with the abuse. Furious,
he screamed and launched himself at the group. Blades burst from the
flesh of his forearms; his hands were enveloped in an eerie blue glow.
One blade pierced through the shoulder of the lead bully, shattering
the bone and making him shriek in agony; the other hand launched
several ki blasts that bowled the teens over. He wrenched his arm
blade free and leapt at another of them, still incoherently screaming
his rage. He didn't even notice his friend Ryouga crying for him to
stop; his focus was on hurting them, making them screech in agony as
he himself had done so many times before-
	-and as suddenly as it had begun, the fight stopped. The young boy
who had so suddenly went beserk had just disappeared before their
eyes. Groans began to echo through the alley as the gang members began
to realize their wounds. Sirens had begun to wail in the background;
the sound of footsteps grew louder, and the voices of adults could be
faintly heard. Ryouga slowly let down his guard and leaned forward,
his bloody knees forgotten. "Mamoru? Mamoru? Where are you?"

	Orochi flung Kusanagi into the far wall of the cavern angrily, its
lone red eye glaring bright through the darkness. *I told you to keep
yourself hidden!*
	The boy fell on his hands and knees to the floor and lay there,
trembling. Orochi had come back from his mission much sooner than was
thought, and now he had been caught openly disobeying orders. "I- I-"
he whimpered, bowing until his head hit the ground. "I'm sorry, master-"
	*You're sorry,* it mocked. *You failed to follow the Kushinada, you
let yourself be seen by humans _despite_my_orders_, and now the TAC is
investigating because of your stupidity! And you say you're _sorry_?*
	Kusanagi began shaking with fear, not daring to look up at the
monster before him. He reflexively curled up into a tight ball, as if
making himself smaller and more defenseless would somehow spare him
from his master's wrath. "I didn't mean to-"
	*You _idiot_!!!* A long tentacle grasped him by his shaggy hair and
lifted the six-year-old from the floor. *I warned you what would
happen if you disobeyed me, boy,* it growled, shaking him like a dog
does a rat. *I told you what I would do-*
	He grabbed the appendage holding him aloft, trying to keep from
crying out in pain. *Stop your sniveling and let go of me!*
	"I'm sorry!" The child shook his head furiously, clutching it even
tighter. "Please, I'm sorry, pleasedon'thurtmeI'msorryI'm-"
	Another tentacle backhanded him, busting back open the partially
healed wound on his cheek. *Shut up with your whining,* it snapped.
*Crying is for the weak, the inferior. I said _stop_it_!*
	Still reeling from the blow, Kusanagi bit back his sobs and nodded
hesitantly. His eyes still begged the Aragami, hoping against hope
that obedience would lessen the punishment. His master drew him closer
until he was barely a foot away from the monster's lone eye. The furor
glowing in that eye quelled all hope for leniency. 
	*I told you to stop sniveling, little toy.* Orochi lowered him to the
floor. *Against the wall,* it ordered, shoving him across the chamber.
	The child's eyes grew wide with horror as he realized what was coming
next. "Please, master, I'm sorry-"
	*Not _half_ as sorry as you're going to be when I'm through with
you,* it promised. *Now _face_the_wall_!!!*
	Before Kusanagi could even begin to comply, thin tentacles wrapped
themselves around his wrists and ankles, pinning him to the rock face.
All hope left him; his small hands instinctively grasped hold of the
jutting stone and tensed, waiting -
	The first blow slammed him into the rocks; he began sobbing, verdant
blood beginning to trickle from the scrapes on his face. *I said stop
whining!* Orochi roared, lashing out again. The whip cracked, tearing
into his shoulders, ripping through the thin cloth of his shirt into
the flesh. *Stop-*
          -crack!- 
     *-whining,-*
          -crack!-
     *-worthless-*
          -crack!-
     *-bastard! Do you understand me?*
	Kusanagi's chest hitched once, twice, three times. His teeth were
gritted together tight against the pain; the rocks he had been
gripping were now shattered into dust. "Yes . . . master," he finally
grunted, struggling to keep from crying out.
	Orochi paused, the whip-like tentacle dangling over him. *And why
should I even let you live?* It sneered at him in disgust. *You . . .
look at you, puling on the floor like a _human_! You're worthless,
_stupid_, a waste of my time!*
	It was several seconds before he could find the strength to speak. "-
I- I'm sorry I'm dumb . . . .  I know I'm not- not worth-" He choked
back a sob. "-not worth anythin'-"
	The whip came down again, slashing his legs. He hardly noticed; his
whole body seemed to be seared in agony. *Then beseech me,* and its
voice mocked him with sadistic humor, *beg me . . . _beg_ for my
forgiveness like the bastard you are.*
	The child's cheeks burned with shame. "I . . . please . . . . " He
whimpered softly as he was struck again.
	*What do you want to tell me, boy?*
	"Please . . . please, master . . . . " Hot tears rolled down his
cheeks, stinging the open wounds. Another blow came down, and his
knees buckled under him. The boy fell noiselessly to the ground, into
the small pool of verdant blood that was collecting underneath him. "
. . . please forgive me . . . . "
	The Aragami brought the whip down one final time, completely ripping
the shirt from the child's body in a spray of blood. His little frame
shook with unvoiced sobs; he could no longer keep up a facade of
strength. For all his hope, he was still just a child, still too young
to even understand anything beyond what he was told. "I'm sorry," he
whispered into the dirt. "I'm so sorry . . . . "
	Orochi's voice was rich with contempt. "You got off easy this time,
boy." There was a rustling noise as it slithered out of the cavern.
"Next time . . . I won't be so lenient."
	A full twenty minutes passed before the boy dared to even move.
Slowly, whimpering with each movement, he dragged himself into a
corner of the cavern. There were no more tears; he had no more tears
left to shed. He wrapped his arms around himself as he sat on the hard
ground. "I'm sorry . . . . "
	And in the forgotten shadows, the child known as Kusanagi Mamoru
curled up into a ball and cried himself to sleep.

*~*

	Momiji woke up several hours later to the sounds of someone moaning.
She blinked and yawned, trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind
before rising. "Mrs. Matsudaira?" she asked softly. "Is anyone there?"
	She heard the moaning again; the young woman looked across the small
room and shot to her feet. "Kusanagi? Are you awake?" She walked over
on unsteady legs and sat next to him on a stool. He was tossing and
turning on the bed; the sheets had been shoved aside by his insistent
thrashing. The teen leaned against the railing, concern etched on her
face. "You'll be all right, Kusanagi," she whispered as she began to
adjust the sheets back around him. 
	He suddenly stopped moving at her touch. His face was contorted in
pain and sorrow; he began murmuring something over and over like a
mantra. The young man's hands weakly gripped the bed railing as if
bracing against it. Momiji leaned forward, straining desperately to
hear what he was saying. 
	" . . . I'm sorry . . . I'm so sorry . . . . "
	A single tear, tiny and sparkling, slipped from one eye and slid
along the contour of his cheek before dripping down onto Momiji's
hand. Another soon followed, and another, until there was a steady
flow of shimmering tears flowing down his chiseled face. "Oh,
Kusanagi," she murmured quietly, touching the droplet to her lips. It
twisted her heart to see him suffering; she could only guess as to
what was tormenting him. Slowly, she leaned down and, hesitating,
brushed her lips against his forehead. "I'm here for you, Kusanagi. I
promise, I'll never leave you . . . ."
	The constant beeping of the monitors was her only answer.



Author's Note: Unfortunately, scenes like the ones above are all too
common in today's society. Child abuse is a crime which haunts
everyone, from the victim to just those associated with him/her,
forever. So if you think I'm being melodramatic, go read some of the
histories of abuse that others have gone through. There are far worse
scenarios than what I have written out here. But if this makes you
think, then I've done my job.

Jess, the LilTigre =-_-=




==
Romantic Gesture #345: Packing your boyfriend's severed arm with you
       wherever you go. Just be sure to keep it in a cooler.

               *~* Tora-chan Productions, Ltd. *~*
      -Proudly presenting BlueSeed fanfiction since 1997!-
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