A Ranma 0.5 fanfiction
The Three-fold God
By Kijin
====*====*====
Chapter 2
====*====*====
Past :
Shadows. So many shadows.
The sun slept once again, bowing down to his sister, the
Moon. Dusk spread her cold embrace on the populace. Where the
city lay, now a sea of blinking neon lights appeared. They
shone brightly through the dark night sky, perhaps to spite it.
But the artificial brilliance of halogen light bulbs could never
fully extinguish what lay behind each darkened alley, each
seamy room. The shadows would always be part of the city, and
part of life.
Part of _my_ life.
Must it always be so?
I have been part of the shadows for far too long. I feel
tremors of anxiety whenever the comforting blanket of the night
fails to graze me. I can never resist its allure, no matter
how I try. To some, the shadows are the enemy. To be feared.
To be loathed. To be despised. To be destroyed.
But how can one destroy The Dark?
Without Fear, there can be no Courage. Without earth,
there can be no sky. Heaven, without a hell. Joy, sadness.
God, the Devil. Dusk, for the Dawn. Hope, and Despair.
Light. The Shadows.
Humanity is defined by opposites. In my admittedly short
life, I have found this to true. Existence is given shape by
by conflicts, that which give rise to different schools of thought.
Why would people deny this adage, this basic tenet of survival?
Have we become such hypocrites that we divert our attention
from what truly holds much importance?
They have left the true enlightenment of knowledge in
the blessed decay of ignorance. The Fools. My head turns from
side to side. As I watch the various night creatures stalk
across the streets of the City, I cannot help but sigh at their
insistence in continuing this...farce. A facade of
obliviousness to the point of being criminal.
Ignorant ones, would you ignore that which I see? Or
did rather, choose not to see. Have you ever wondered if your
day is always filled with Happy faces, and Shining smiles?
What about us, those who live in the shadows? Those who _are_
the shadows. Would you ignore us then, when our duty tells
us to visit you?
No. I cannot let myself become this petty. No sympathy
is needed for one such as I, nor do I need to. Let the babes
play in the mud. Let them be the Children of the Sun. I shall,
and always remain, Child of the shadows.
Tainted, you say? I am not, far from it, in fact. What
you see as evil is but a facet of side your kind despises. You
see only one side to the coin. Do you not know that NOTHING has
a single dimension? Before it is too late, use the sight that
our pagan gods have given us! Use the...
Ahh. I laugh at myself at this unexpected turn in my
so-called introspection. Truly, I have changed. Or perhaps
regaining that which I...lost some time ago. Perhaps I am not
so indifferent to the lure of the light, as I believed. Yes,
perhaps I even envy your ignorance. Hopeless it might be.
Yes. Live and laugh. Eat and drink, and breath. Children
of the Sun, cavort and sate yourself in midst of your Bacchanals.
The balance would still be maintained. Children of the light.
But never forget your siblings. We are your opposites. Yet we
deserve the right for our existence, as well. We are Siblings,
you and I.
I smile at the sights below me, and turn back to the
dark recesses of the suite, the highest available. It is our
turn now. Our turn to play in the sandbox of conflicts.
The shadows have come. THE Shadow has come.
====*====*====
The swordsman stood atop the cliff, poised in a majestic
Chudan-no-kamae stance. The katana was held in two hands, tip
angled just above the eyebrows. His eyes were closed, focused
on something that only he could see. Silence ruled the air, the
rush of the waterfall providing a background for the swordsman's
concentration. He remained at that pose for minutes, waiting for
the right moment to strike.
His eyes snapped. With a loud Kiai, he swung down in a
powerful stroke, the air cleft by the strike.
Then, silence reigned once more. To be broken only by
the arrival of another hakama-clad warrior. The new arrival
was older, and carried a samurai's traditional weapons, the
Daisho. The resemblance between the two was unmistakable.
"How goes your training, nephew?"
The younger of the two relaxed from his stance, and
turned to face the other swordsman.
"Very well, Uncle. Thank you for your concern."
He nodded at his answer. "Good. You have truly become
a powerful practitioner of the Kuno school of Kenjutsu. Soon,
you shall inherit the Title of Grandmaster of our school."
"Yes...the Grandmaster..."
"Was it really necessary to skip school, though? You
might have come back few times, but only to contact this...
Nabiki character. A Samurai must be well-educated as well as
chivalrous. It would not do for a Kuno to be ignorant,
Tatewaki."
The younger Kuno stared at his uncle with blazing eyes.
"I must train to humble the foul Saotome!" He raged. "He has
been a thorn at my side for far too long! Such insults must be
avenged! My sword demands it!"
The man sighed for what seemed the hundredth time for
the day. He knew about his nephew's obsession, blaming this to
his rather...temperamental...sensibilities. He would turn a
little thing into a monstrous fiasco by a sudden flight of
fancy.
'Must have come from his father's side.' He thought,
ignoring Tatewaki for a moment.
But family was family. If his errant nephew wanted to
study the higher forms of the Nine-skills School, who was he
to deny him? All he could do was hope for the best.
"Have you mastered all written on the scrolls?"
"Of course! The techniques written should most useful for
vanquishing the Foul Saotome. This time, he will not survive
our encounter!"
"Tatewaki," The elder Kuno tried to reason with slightly
deranged young man, "Is it really necessary for the boy to die?
Duels of Honor are no longer tolerated in this era, you know?
You could end up locked inside a cell. And the family's honor
will be strained." He hardened his gaze. "I will not have the
Kuno name dishonored, Tatewaki."
Tatewaki flinched back. He wasn't frightened by his
uncle, of course not! "Of c...course, Uncle. The Peasant's
life is too inconsequential to risk a sentence from the plebeian
courts..." He was merely indulging an aging man's request.
His glare had not fallen off. "See that he...lives,
Tatewaki. And to make sure there aren't any...accidents, I
shall accompany you in this endeavor."
"Uncle, this is most unnecessary! I assure you that
Saotome shall live through this encounter! You have my word
on it!"
"Of course you do. But I also want to see this...Saotome
boy for myself." He replied. "You are very good at Kenjutsu,
nephew. So good, that I think there are very few in Japan,
mayhap in the world, that can match your Swordsmanship. That is
why I am puzzled that a boy younger than you can actually
defeat you bare handed. That's speaks of great Skill."
Curiosity was not the only reason he would watch the duel,
though. The name, Saotome, sounded very...familiar. He belonged
to the highest of social classes in Japan. The affairs of the
state, including the Emperor's, were well-known to him. If he
remembered correctly, there was some mention about a new agent
in the ranks, one under the personal command of the Emperor,
himself...
"Skill?" Tatewaki snorted. "Ha! Base trickery, I say! He
resorts to sorcery most foul when it is apparent that I, the
Great Kuno Tatewaki, would rise supreme!" Thunder echoed in
the background.
The man narrowed his eyes. "You have too much pride,
Tatewaki. That will be your downfall, as with all warriors.
Have your manservant pack your bags. We shall be leaving
tomorrow. 7 weeks of training should be enough."
As the Middle-aged man walked away, Kuno Tatewaki
plotted his nemesis's defeat.
'Soon, Saotome. I have finally acquired the means for
your downfall. You shall be humbled, and laid low, as I show
the true power of the Kuno Kenjutsu Ryu!'
====*====*====
"An excellent meal, Kasumi! Your cooking never ceases to
lose its appeal!"
"T-thank you Ranma. It means a lot, coming from you."
One girl, however, did not take this well.
"You pervert! Stop hitting on my sister!" Guess who that
was.
"Unfortunately," Muttered Nabiki.
"Look, why don't you get off my case already!"
"Off your case?! Is that what you think I'm doing?"
"What else would you call it? Oh, I know : Nagging!"
"Why you!"
Before things could go downhill, Kasumi halted the spat
with a few words. "Please, not in front of the dinner table!"
Ranma and Akane turned away shamefacedly. "Sorry, Kasumi.
I'll try not to...aggravate Akane again."
"Hmmph!" Akane just snorted.
Kasumi smiled sunnily. "That's all right Ranma. I'm sure
you didn't mean it."
Ranma smiled in return, and Akane once again glared
angrily at the pig-tailed boy.
"So, Ranma-kun," Nabiki ventured. "How have you been,
lately?"
Ranma glanced warily at the brown-haired girl. Experience
had been a hard teacher. "Not much, really. Ryouga's been lost
for two months, Mousse disappeared somewhere, so did Kuno. Last
I heard, the 'Blue thunder' went to his uncle's home in the
mountains to do some training. Don't know where, though."
Nabiki shook her head. "I didn't mean that. I was talking
about your...social status. Chosen the lucky girl yet?"
Ranma shook his head. "Not really. Relationships are too
much of a hassle, anyway. Girls bring nothing but trouble."
He chuckled.
"Oh really, Ranma-kun?" She smirked lopsidedly. "Your
opinion seems a bit biased to me. Girls do _not_ want to
bring you trouble. They do, however, want other things,
things only you can provide."
He leaned back on his heels. "I said girls, Nabiki. I
didn't say anything about _Women_. "
"Oh really?" 'Perhaps you aren't so easy to crack,
Ranma.' "Are you implying that you want not a girl, but a
_Woman_? And how would you define one, Ranma-kun?"
Ranma smiled, leaning forward across the table, directly
in front of Nabiki. His expression became sultry, if the word
could ever be used to describe a man. "Wouldn't you like to
know..."
"Oohh, somebody learned how to be subtle!" Nabiki laughed
delightedly. When did Ranma learn how flirt?
Soun and Genma merely went about their shogi, happy that
their children still got along. Nodoka sighed in pride, at the
obvious (or perhaps imaginary?) skill her son had at seduction.
Kasumi gazed longingly at the pig-tailed boy-no, man- and
wished she could play as well as Nabiki could with words. Akane,
on the other hand, turned redder and redder at the pervert's
audacity.
"Really, Ranma. What would you consider an ideal woman?
What traits set her from the standard schoolgirl, pray tell."
"Well, for one thing, a woman doesn't worry about
appearance, because she _knows_ she is desirable. The vagaries
that plague a girl fall on the wayside for her."
Unnoticed by anyone, Kasumi lowers her eyes to the floor.
But Nabiki plows through, drawing a bit closer.
"And?"
"A woman trusts a man, even if it is only for a day. This
Freudian theory of trust and companionship holds true, after all.
Even in the most platonic of agreements, trust is an inherent
commodity most important in all compromises."
He drew closer to Nabiki until their faces were only a
few inches apart. "But most important of all," He whispered
softly, though not so low, as he could be heard by all, "A
woman knows how to please a man. In oh-sooo-many delightful
ways." He licked his lips suggestively.
Nabiki shivered in response. Was it getting hot in here?
"Perhaps you should...should hold that thought, Ranma. Who
knows, maybe someone might indulge you soon." she murmured .
"Are you trying to say something, Nabiki-chan?" he
breathed. Nabiki was nearly rendered insensate. "Perhaps...to
volunteer?" He laughed richly, a deep, baritone rumbling in
his chest. "I assure you, if you do, I'll make it worth your
while."
Everyone froze. Akane nearly exploding in anger, Nabiki
by her libido, and Kasumi with no small longing, and a bit of
embarrassment. Nodoka glowed with pride at her manly son. She
was merely content to observe the interaction of the younger
generation.
Thankfully, the lull in the conversation was broken when
Soun interrupted.
"By the way, Ranma, I think I found some of the things
you left when you moved." he announced. "We found some bags
that had your name on it. Kasumi, please get the things you
found earlier."
"Yes father." Kasumi climbed up the stairs to retrieve the
said items.
"Things?" Ranma was puzzled. As far as he knew, what
meager possessions he had was already at the Saotome residence.
He could have sworn that everything were accounted for.
"Hah! Check, Tendo!" Genma crowed, having rearranged the
pieces when Soun was distracted.
"Eh?" Soun looked back at the board. "Ah. I couldn't see
that reversal. A fine match, Saotome."
Ranma turned to Nabiki. Akane was incensed at this insult.
Imagine, the perverted baka's ignoring me! Why, most boys
would kill for the chance to even speak with her!
"Did know what Tendo-san was talking about, Nabiki?"
Nabiki shook her head. "Beats me."
"But I could have sworn that I brought everything with
me when we moved out. What could I have possibly left behind?"
"Hmmpph! I bet he probably left some nudie pictures!
You Probably hid them somewhere where we couldn't find,
hentai!" Akane declared, hoping for a reaction.
Ranma continued to ignore her.
"Perhaps a change of clothes? Or maybe some martial arts
paraphernalia, maybe?" Nabiki suggested. "After all, you never
were the most astute of people, Ranma-kun. You could have
forgotten something."
He raised his eyebrows. "Forget?" he answered matter-of-
factly. "I have a very good Memory, Nabiki."
Her own eyebrows rose at this deadpan delivery. "Awfully
sure about yourself, aren't you?"
"Is there any reason I shouldn't be?" this brought on a
series of chuckles around the table. All except for one.
"Hey! Stop ignoring me, you..."
Ranma suddenly whipped towards her. His eyes held utter
seriousness, brooking no nonsense. Akane found out that she
could not tear her eyes away from his own.
"And then what, Akane? Have you spitting like a viper
for not agreeing with you? Or blowing up for some imagined
insult to your glorious perfection?" he all but glared at the
girl.
He continued with his tirade, this time softly. "You
would have blown up for every little thing I said, Akane. I
can't hold even a decent conversation with you anymore. You
argue and contradict every little thing I say. Do you have to
be angry all the time, Akane?"
The short-haired girl was a bit speechless. She never
thought Ranma would talk _somewhat_ logically in response. How
much had he changed since he left the Tendo household?
Ranma sighed. "I'm not trying to be insulting, Akane, even
if I seemed a bit rude for not paying you any attention. But I'd
rather not have this gathering turn ugly because the two of us
couldn't agree on a few things. Please understand."
Contrary to her name, Akane managed to restrain her
considerable temper in check. She didn't like to admit it, but
the baka was right. 'This time', she conceded. So he made a
point. That didn't mean she had to like it, of course.
"Wow, I'm impressed, sis! I didn't think I've ever seen
you reign yourself that quick. It seems like you've learned
_some_ things."
"Shut up, Nabiki." she mumbled.
Everyone in the room turns around to the sound of footsteps.
It was Kasumi, coming down to bring a few bundles in her slim
arms. The things didn't look heavy, but they had the distinct
impression that they weren't all that light.
"Finally, you're here, Sis! So, what are they?" Nabiki
could barely contain herself.
Kasumi handed out the parcels to the pig-tailed boy.
"Here you go Ranma-"
"Huh? This is it? What the heck..."
"-kun. I never knew you owned a few swords, and expensive
ones, if I'm to judge."
'Expensive?' Nabiki had perked up at the magic words.
'Since when did Ranma own such things? And swords?'
"Oh, great! I never thought you'd sink so low. But it
seems you're going to turn into another Kuno!" Akane sniffed.
Nodoka got curious. Katanas? Her son had one? Why?
"Ranma-chan, where did you get that? Was it given to
you?" If it was, he'd have to send it back. After all, he was
supposed to inherent the Saotome Family Blade.
As their eyes fell on him, they showed different amounts
of surprise. Ranma sat on his heels, bowed down as if praying.
His hands carried the two cloth-wrapped, cylindrical objects,
cradling them gently. He treated each with the gentlest of
reverence. In fact, his gesture would not have been totally
inappropriate in holding a newborn baby.
"Ranma-kun? Are...you...?" Kasumi inquired tentatively.
Ranma kept on cradling the weapons. His eyes were closed,
and a suspicious moisture collected at the corners of his
lashes. What was going on here?
"Ranma?" even Akane was unnerved. She had never, not even
once, had she seen Ranma in this position. He'd always been
fiercely introverted, hiding all forms of external emotions from
the public eye. He usually regarded such displays as unmanly
before, so why now? Granted, it wasn't much, but still...
Nabiki decided to attempt to rouse him from his present
state. "Hey, Saotome. You in there?" she shook him a little,
just a bit, not wanting to startle him.
Slowly, Ranma raised his head, just enough to conceal his
eyes beneath his bangs. He sighed deeply, as if in deep thought.
He remained silent for a few moments, before answering their
unspoken question.
"I...remember these. I thought I would have forgotten
by now. But little things, smidgens of...they just don't let
themselves fade away..."
"Huh?" came the collective response.
"You don't understand? Well, it's not really important."
He brightened, losing interest in the weapons. He lay them at
his side. "Ehh, what now?"
"What isn't important, Ranma? Come on, don't leave us
in the dark, here." Nabiki spouted.
Nodoka had a nasty suspicion, but preferred to keep
her silence.
"So, you're playing with swords now, Ranma? Since when
did you start carrying one? And by the looks of it, you have
been, for a long time." Akane voiced her own opinion.
"For sometime. Can't quite remember, though." Ranma
muttered in a low, smooth voice. A tone they'd never heard
him adopt. "Must have been a few years ago."
"Can I see it, then? The sword, I mean." Kasumi asked.
Ranma whipped up his head in surprise. Kasumi? The
others had similar thoughts. Since when had she been so
interested in swords?
Kasumi blushed rosily and ducked her head. "Uhm, I'm
just a bit curious, that's all. They don't feel like the
regular Japanese Katana. They're a bit heavier, for one thing."
They didn't notice the two old coots stop their game, to
listen at their conversation. What was puzzling, though, was
the fact that Genma stared with an unblinking gaze, Not even
paying attention to Soun absently shifting the pieces around.
Wordlessly, Ranma held out one of the swords to her,
keeping the other hidden behind his back. Kasumi gingerly took
the object out of his hand, idly caressing his digits almost
absently. Nobody noticed, but Ranma did. Beet-red, he whipped
his hand back quickly, hoping that no one had seen _that_.
But that was strange. Why would he be acting so jumpy around
Kasumi?
Kasumi held the sword a foot away from her, firmly
gripping the handle in her right hand. She frowned a bit at
the weight, wondering why it felt like so. Putting it off
for a moment, she slowly unsheathed the blade, left hand
behind the ornate horse carving. Light glinted off the
silvery metal blade, revealing-
"No edge?!" Akane had jumped out of her seat, boggling
at the sight. The rest showed similar signs of confusion
and disbelief.
If anything, Genma's expression turned a bit darker.
Ranma laughed a bit nervously. "Ha ha ha, I didn't
think anyone would notice..." He trailed off, realizing how
stupid that sounded.
Nodoka examined the blade herself, paying attention to
the most minute details. "The weapon is quite well-made, very
well crafted, in fact. Perfect balance, wrong weight though.
It doesn't seem unfinished, but deliberately created this way.
Almost like a bokken, with its rounded edge, but thinner."
She turned to her son. "Tell me, Son. Why carry around
something like this, when you already have the Family's
Honor Blade?" She wanted to tease him. He was so cute when
he was flustered, reminding her of times long gone, back
when he was just a toddler.
Shockingly, his grey-blue eyes darkened to a nearly
purple shade, as if absorbing the light from the ceiling
lamps. An aura of menace could be felt around him. The room
froze in an enigmatic silence, and all could not find the
strength to break it. Nobody uttered a word. All waited for
an answer that might not come. And that prediction just might
come true, by the looks of things. Ranma chose to keep his
counsel, his eyes unfocused. Turned inwards to view
recalcitrant memories, perhaps.
This did not bode well. Nodoka shivered, unknowingly
mirroring Genma. There wasn't any admonishment present in
her voice, but her son acted as if scolded. What started as
a congenial inquiry pertaining to her son's quirks degenerated
into a macabre parody. At least, that's how it seemed to the
concerned mother.
Nodoka cursed herself for being too inquisitive. Not that
anyone could blame her. She was only concerned for Ranma's
well-being. But sometimes, her protectiveness went too far. As
it did tonight. It seemed like there was no hope of salvaging
this affair.
Nabiki wasn't stupid, and the same went for Kasumi.
Ranma rarely showed anything other absent-minded cheerfulness
and good-natured arrogance. Due to his forgiving nature, it
was easy to underestimate his congeniality as foolishness.
Challengers could knock at their door, every Dick and Tom could
attempt to beat the crap out of everyone's favorite pig-tailed
martial artist, and still Ranma considered such occurrences as
normal as breathing. It wasn't easy to get a rise out of
anything resembling seriousness from the former aquatransexual.
But nearly everyone knew when to back down from him, even
Ryoga and Cologne. When asked why they vacillate, they only
said one word.
"Jusendo."
Even Soun and Akane knew when hold back. His ability to
take abuse was legendary-but so was ability to dish them out.
Both of them knew Ranma had been partly responsible for tearing
apart Mount Horaisan, in a battle with Herb. For someone to
carry such power...
You could only kick a sleeping dragon a couple of times
...Before it woke up and swatted the annoying bug that dared
disturb its slumber, into so much paste.
Surprisingly, it was Genma who saved the day. "Hey, I
remember! Soun, you said Kasumi baked an entire batch of
chocolate-chip cookies? I can't wait to take a bite out of
them!" He rubbed his hands gleefully.
"Ehh?" Ranma glanced up with a slightly confused
expression. "Oh right, I remember! Your dishes are always a
delight to taste! Come on, let's get some!!" He brightened
a bit, losing the hardness in his eyes.
He was a bit surprised when no one commented on his
appetite. Usually, mentioning his desire for Kasumi's cooking
was enough to set off a round of remarks about the 'Bottomless
Pit' he called a stomach, basically Nabiki wryly answering,
and Akane responding with her Mallet.
'Must a record or somthing.' he thought.
Everyone heaved a sigh of relief, except for the Fathers.
Disaster had been averted by the timely intervention of Genma's
incorrigible gluttony. Who ever knew his stomach could save the
day?
'Once again, another round went to Saotome's.' thought
Nabiki.
As the group trooped towards the engawa for enjoy the cool
night and Kasumi's cookies, Nabiki could not help but notice
Genma's glance at his Son. It had anything but greed in it.
Instead, his expression had been stony. Calculating, even. She
hit upon a startling revelation. It had not been an idle remark
on his part, but a deliberate attempt to defuse the situation.
By the looks of things, a situation he had seen before, and had
not like in the very least.
Nabiki did not like thing she could not figure out.
Something was obviously going on with the Saotome's, Father
and Son, at least. Nodoka could be ignorant of the factors,
and was the likely possibility. It was Ranma who was the enigma.
As they filed out one by one, everybody noticed that the
pig-tailed boy had not let go of packages. If anything, he
clutched them a bit tighter than before. But he gave no
indication that he even knew their presence, swinging them
around his back with practiced ease. The whole effect was
unsettling.
Kasumi contained her relief as she served glasses of
milk along with saucers of cookies, absently noting
Genma-ojisan's loss of appetite. Despite his earlier statement,
he seemed anything but enjoying the meal. In fact, the same
went for everyone. She was sure it had somthing to do with
Ranma's peculiar behavior.
As everyone nibbled on Kasumi's culinary delights,
Ranma absently put a cookie on his mouth, chewing slowly. The
moment Kasumi had given him the parcels, he seemed to have
lost track of the time, only remembering the moment when
Oyaji mentioned dessert. Wait a minute-what did Kasumi give
him again?
He looked down at his hand. There it was. wrapped in a
piece of heavy linen. The covering was sufficiently thick
that it took a bit of time to figure out what it was, but
Ranma was fairly certain one of them was a batterred pack.
Now, how about the others?
He grabbed and squeezed the long ensemble, trying
to figure their identity by touch. It took some time, but
eventually, he got a bit of idea upon what the package held.
It was rather obvious, after all.
His eyes widened, unfocused. This did not escape
everyone's notice.
Suddenly, Ranma lost his appetite. The cookies did not so
great anymore.
====*====*====
{{{ ...It started with a scream, only to end in a gurgling
protest reminiscent of that of a drowning man.
The nameless bodyguard, clad in a business suit, slid
down to the cold, damp floor. His fingers twitched feebly,
perhaps in an unconscious protest to his impending demise.
Perhaps his last thoughts were of the possibility that he could
muster his defenses to hold off his death?
HE eyed the fallen man with a cold eye. Attempting to
stave off one's mortality, especially when one faced HIM, was
a foolhardy effort at best. They would know no redemption, no
salvation. Not from their allies, friends, or their individual
gods.
HIS soft-shod shoes patted silently across the darkened
hall. Slowly, unerringly, they would bring HIM towards HIS
'client'. HIS lips curled slightly. It would be an honor many
had received, but few would enjoy for long. Too bad.
The place was quite well guarded, for a Yakuza lord's
demesne. Traps of all sorts, a few pitfalls, Dozens of thugs,
some hi-tech alarm systems, and assorted sellswords all combined
to form a formidable defense for uninvited guests, like HIM.
But it wouldn't be enough. Not nearly enough to even slow
HIM down.
'the Main Office...' HE paused for a bit. All of the
security cameras were broken. Emergency power had been shut
down. Perimeter defenses up to the top floor of the building
were rendered non-functional. And not a single man in sight.
Pathetic.
The huge double door stood ominously in front of HIM.
Made from tempered titanium alloys and other synthetic composites,
It had proven itself impenetrable to regular police
demolitionists.
The barest hint of a frown appeared. Was this the reason
why this...errand...was assigned to HIM? Something so whimsical
as a strong gate? HE would find out soon.
Acute senses, powerful enough to shame those of bestial
predators, extended itself from their normal restraints. Every
sensory detail, from the most obvious visual clues to the tiniest
auditory disturbance were stored and analyzed. Finally he came
to a conclusion. HIS client lay beyond this very doors. And he
wasn't alone.
Perhaps he'd get a bit of workout tonight.
'Let's see how good his 'guardians' would be...'
HIS blade flashed. A soundless shriek echoed unnaturally
in the corridor. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then,
slowly, the door fell inwards in several pieces.
The door revealed an huge room that stretched for several
dozen meters. Black and white vinyl tiles alternated on the
floor, set in eerie hexagonal patterns. Gothic buttresses(?)
decorated the walls, somewhat out of place in the shadowy expanse.
A single fluted chandelier provided a dim illumination for entire
space.
Near the very end, between two suit-clad men, sat HIS
target.
Ah, there he was. And he had some company, too.
"Impressive, most impressive. I did not think anyone could
penetrate my stronghold, much less a single man."
A tiny curl of the upper lip. All were silent, bound in the
spell of atrophication.
--------------------------------------
The Oyabun tried to act nonchalant, but couldn't not hide
the slightest of shivers that escaped from his shoulders. He was
afraid, very much so, and had every right to be. He exactly who
his visitor was, if only by reputation. He doubted if he would
live through the night.
But he wouldn't go without a fight. He had hired the very
best of guards for the duration of the week. They would stop this
assassin. Perhaps, even kill him...
The Oyabun shivered once again, this time in delight. If
he managed to do exactly that, his reputation would rise among
the ranks in the Underworld, and many would fear his own self,
instead. The idea was very attractive.
His visitor had not moved from where he stood, as if waiting for
something. This suited him just fine. His guards were in the
process of completing their preparations, hidden deep among the
shadows of the room. Finishing this, then would they attack in
concert, sure to slay they slayer. He laughed silently at the
irony of it all.
Still no reaction from the assassin. Did he know about his
guards? It made no difference if he did. The Oyabun decided to
engage him in a simple conversation.
"So, what brings you to my humble abode? Business,
perhaps?"
There was no answer, nor did he expect one.
He shrugged. Oh well, at least he tried.
"You are quite an interesting fellow, don't you know?
And very secretive as well. Almost everyone in the world of
Shadows has some form of knowledge, in one form or another, about
you. You've become a legend, a modern-day Boogie-man for us
Humble Merchants." He smirked. His aide had signaled. 'They
are finished. It is time for them to act.'
He finished with an evil smile, directed at the silent
man in front of him. "And soon, you shall become a myth, then
will your name fade into the mists of fables." He laughed once
again.
He gestured grandly. "Do what is necessary. But do not harm
his face. I want to see what how our guest really looks."
-------------------------------------
There was a slight whistling sound, and a couple of shurikens
imbedded themselves in front of the assassin.
Movement. All around HIM, from several sources. Moving
faster than ordinary people could see, but due in part to the
darkness. Dressed in tight-fitting tunics, and wearing assorted
bladed and edged weapons, they were easily recognizable.
'Ninjas. Around ten of them. How quaint.'
The ninjas had stopped their motion, and now stood still in
the shadows. They probably thought they'd be invisible. 'Hhmpp,
as if.'
"Like them? I asked for their assistance a few weeks ago.
The very best from Iga, and I've personally seen their abilities.
I've had some trouble in the past, but they've taken care of it
quite easily before. Just like they'll take care of you."
The ninjas remained still for a while, thinking they could
use their visual and numerical advantages. They've of heard of
this particular assassin only from the tales of a few of their
recent employer's hired guns. But from what they've seen, this
would be a walk in the park.
HE glared coldly at the assorted shadowy figures trying to
remain concealed. But their efforts would be all for naught,
especially from someone like HIM.
HE could wait. Until their amateurish displays were
finished, HE would wait patiently. HE snorted as HIS gaze swept
through the room. The shadow warriors of Japan's Iga and Koga
regions were vastly overrated. Their importance in underworld had
been blown all out of proportion. Where a once proud, if somewhat
paranoid (and rightly so), Clan of spies and assassins prospered,
it had been replaced by a collection of scheming, second-rate
thugs. The proverbial 'Fall from grace' had only begun. Only the
dregs were left, not even worth HIS while.
It was a pity, really. The decline had started only in the
late years of the Reign of Tokugawa Ieyasu, just before the Meiji
restoration. Now all that was left were little more than performers,
strutting around for the enjoyment of tourists.
Several 'shaken' imbedding themselves on the floor in front
of HIS feet shook HIM from his reverie.
"You know, It would be easier for all concerned if you just
gave up. You ARE outnumbered. Even a man of your obvious talents
will be hard-pressed to even survive for the night."
The Oyabun's voice took on a low undertone. "Or perhaps you
could join me? The rewards would be most pleasing, I assure you. We
could change the flow of power around this country. My sources can
attest to that."
Finally, for the first time since his arrival, HE answered.
A whisper, but one that carried his dulcet tones to the farthest
corners.
"...Your convictions concern me not, dog. I am only here
to deliver..._Tenchu_..."
The words were received in anger. "Then die like the fool
that you are!!"
All at once, the shadow warriors converged as one.
--------------------------------------
The concerted assault began. Weapons had been unlimbered,
not having been far from their hands in the first place. Bodies
flew in an unerring flight towards HIM. HE was almost amused at
their lack of subtlety. Perhaps they thought HE would be easy
pickings? They didn't know how wrong they were.
So the melee, despite HIS opponent's efforts, began and
ended in moment. For the ninjas, their last few nanoseconds
stretched into an entire lifetime. They could see everything in
crystal clarity, as HIS blade swung faster than their reflexes
could follow. A sense of absolute helplessness filled their beings
as they felt the icy coldness of steel flash in their wake.
Powerless. That was all they were. Just as they should be,
in HIS presence.
HE sheathed HIS blade slowly, ever gentle and smooth in
motion. They had surrounded HIM, all standing in various
threatening poses. HE straightened, to look at HIS true target
right in the eye.
One by one, miniature geysers of blood spurted from nearly
every superficial artery of the standing ninjas. The air turned
to red, the salty scents filling his nostrils. Then, just as the
crimson fountains ended their display, various body parts began
sliding off from torsos, to splash in the pools of blood that
now dotted the floor.
Yes, HIS errand was nearly at an end. All obstacles had been
eliminated, leaving HIM a clear path to HIS goal. Quite a
predictable climax in his evening actually. There really couldn't
have been any other conclusion.
Slowly, HE approached the Oyabun, steps slow and measured.
there was no hurry. The little lordling would die soon enough.
"Wait! Please, mercy!"
HE ignored the plea. The Oyabun had fallen to his knees,
hysterical from fear and frustration. No quarter will be given.
Such was the price of one who broke from the shelter of anonymity.
"...Please..."
It was his own fault, really. The Underlord had grown too
sure of his own influence that he had attracted the wrong kind
of attention. There was strength in secrecy, and he chose to break
the cardinal rule.
"...It's not fair..."
When was life ever fair? Destiny threw all sorts of pitfalls
for one to trip upon. All one could truly do was soften the
landings, and tend to the wounds. It was a lesson HE learned a
long time ago. Back when...back when...
"...No...no..."
"It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"
The sobbing man looked up to his executioner.
"Stay sharp, the evening is still young." heh.
"...Huh?"
"Oyasumi..."
A flash, of silvery metal, and refracted light. A head fell,
to roll towards the far corner. Another crimson pool formed
before him, HIS blade still unstained since the beginning.
Curiously, HE stared at the puddle upon HIS feet. Before it had
congealed, the flood flowed into a nearly perfect oval of blood.
Dim lights reflecting from various corners, the puddle had
become a makeshift mirror. Tilting HIS head just so...
There. A face stared back at HIM. One so familiar, yet...
different, too. A pair of blue eyes shone several shades darker
than normal, framed in a face that couldn't have been more than
a decade and a half old.
HIS reflection tightened a few facial muscles, and soon a
very tiny smile could be seen. One that was sure to send many
a person to unreasoning fear, towards the depths of insanity.
"You can't sleep forever..." }}}
====*====*====
Toda Ichiro was scared.
Yes, scared. Very, very scared.
Walking down the forbidding hallway, a set of folders
in hand, did nothing to ease his fear. He was about to meet his
superiors for his monthly report, as he had been doing for the
past 6 years. He'd been in this job for so long, his perception
of reality had become a bit blurred at late. He hoped this
momentary lag from the real world wasn't permanent.
He clutched at the plastic folder with clammy palms, sweat
dripping. Today would be the day. He hoped that his network was
wrong. There would be others presenting their cases, but his
would be the last. An the most crucial. And from what he could
infer from the information gathered, heads will roll before the
day was over.
The hallway ended in a smooth wall. Featureless, it belied
the secrets that eh knew lay beyond. Steeling himself, he raised
his left hand to press on a unremarkable part of the wall. Like
an incantation, he pronounced a few words out loud.
"Toda, Ichiro. Chief administrator, Informations."
The section where his palm was pressed glowed briefly,
then a rectangular tile raised itself. Another section, this one
directly in front of his face, slid open. The receptacle spat
out a peculiar device somewhat similar to a binocular, and
positioned itself over his eyes. A mechanical voice began its
inquiry.
"**PURPOSE?**"
Toda answered. "Report, periodic presentation. Access :
Athena-3054."
"**STATUS?**"
His voice trembled a bit as he spoke. "O-operational
parameters : code yellow. Defcon...2."
There was a slight pause. The low hum of hidden machinery
filled the air for a few moments. Finally, the once plain black
wall split in the middle to reveal a passageway leading to an
elevator.
"**ACCESS APPROVED. THE COUNCIL WILL SEE YOU NOW.**"
Toda nodded to himself. The prospect of meeting his
superiors once again, as he had done so for several years, turned
his bones to water. But he would conduct himself with as much
dignity as he could muster. That was all he could do.
He walked towards the elevator, and the darkness swallowed
him.
====*====*====
The Council. Half a dozen of faceless puppet masters who
pulled the strings that bound Japan and most of the world. The
were composed of people of varying racial states. As to why they
chose Japan as their seat of power, he would never know. They sat
in a circle, all facing a low podium where Toda stood, prepared
to give his Report.
Toda's nervousness grew to new heights. Despite having a
lot practice, nothing could really eliminate the unreasoning fear
he felt every time he faced the council. Perhaps it was the
feeling that he was being interrogated by a collection of
executioners, all waiting for him to make a mistake. The fact
that he couldn't see their faces heightened this sense.
One of the Council member stirred slightly, to address the
quivering man.
"Your report, Administrator Toda."
Toda steeled himself for his oratory, however brief it
might be.
"Sir. Casualties : 2. 1 subject, M.I.A. 1 quarantined
and restrained at the A-Base for an onset of mild neuropsychosis.
All the rest are at their specific Branches, awaiting further
instructions pending the Inoshishi Incident. Medical and Security
crew have no reported anomalies or such."
"Continue."
He took a deep breath and started again.
"Research & Development requests additional funding for
the upgrading of the restraining matrices for the B-subjects.
Further investigation of the Halcyon process yielded negative
results for approximately 93.43% of the B-subjects. Each of their
life readings are on a steady incline downhill, Sir. The Project
Director hopes for the best, but chances of survival are
practically nil."
A collective sigh of resignation could be heard. A
querulous inquired almost hesitantly.
"Is there no hope for them, Administrator?"
Toda was surprised. This was the first time he'd ever
heard any of them show any sign of concern for their general
welfare. Perhaps they weren't so indifferent after all.
"The Director's team is still working 24-7, Sir. But all
calculations prove that the subjects would not survive for
another week. 10 days at most."
All were silent, perhaps slowly digesting this last fact.
But Toda knew that there communication between the Councilmen
on some level. He was pretty sure they were discussing what to
do in order to alleviate the loss. After all, manpower,
especially one so lucrative, was hard to find. Or create.
"We have decided to approve the request from R&D, for the
duration of the month. The department can ask whatever they want,
within reason."
Toda nodded. One notch added to his billboard.
"Is there anything else you'd like to share,
Administrator?"
Toda gulped. This was the hardest part yet. Despite it's
brevity, the information they've decoded from the encrypted
messages could very well shake the foundations of Japan. This
last bit would certainly have an impact all that were
concerned.
As steadily as he could, Toda began to repeat what his
officers decoded a few hours earlier.
"This message came 2 hours and 30 minutes ago, from one
of our Agents stationed near the Izanagi prefecture."
He could see nearly every Council member lean forwards,
barely able to control themselves in anticipation.
"Message reads : 'Ragnarok nears. The Pantheon is active.'"
====*====*====
"Where on earth am I now!?!"
The scream echoed back and forth across the valley,
gradually fading in strength. The thick canopy of trees screened
out most of the sunlight, despite it being high noon. Bright
rays streamed out and danced in a shimmering display that was
sure to elicit the delight of many. Assorted avians chattered
their songs in the branches of trees, adding a soothing background
for it all.
This didn't do a damn thing for a certain Lost Boy, though.
Right now, Ryoga's main concern was how to get back to
Nerima, and how in the world did he get here in first place.
He looked around and acquainted himself with his
surroundings. Try as he might, he could not could find any
familiar landmarks. Not that it would have done him any good.
His directional sense still showed no signs of improvement. The
best he could do now was have his lunch, then wander aimlessly
again. He hoped he'd have a better chance this time.
He took out a kettle out of his ever present pack, some
instant cup ramen, and his canteen. Gathering a few dry sticks,
Ryoga set them up on a small pit in the ground, aligning them
for the best positions. He prepared himself, focusing on
gathering his ki to light up the firewood. Extra care had to be
taken in order to control to wellspring of depression he used to
power the tiny ki blast. One mistake, and he could spiral into a
vicious circle of negative emotions, blowing up more than the
pile of firewood. It was hard enough to make the blast hot
enough to combust the wood.
Depression, he knew, wasn't the best of emotions to be
Used in a Ki attack. Neither were the rest of them, actually.
Fear, jealousy, rage, depression - these emotions were too random
And unreliable to be used in a battle, though that didn't stop
Him from using it anyway. Emotion powered attacks like these
drained the willpower, and the subsequent loss of brain power and
decision-making abilities definitely had their downsides. Besides,
his own attack, the Shi Shi Hokodan, wasn't as effective as he
wanted it to be.
The Shi Shi Hokodan was given to him as a scroll,
originally as a mining technique. His first ki attack, the Iron
Cloth, and later the Bakusai Tenketsu, weren't enough to beat his
most hated rival. So it was just a stroke of luck that he came
upon such a technique to employ against Ranma. A physical
manifestation of his spirit, an explosion of solid force, that was
what the ki-attack truly was-a soul bomb. And Ranma shrugs it
off in a regular basis.
'Ranma...even now that name provokes such irrational
flickers of...something. Rage..?' he grimaced.
Yes, even his most powerful technique to date was not enough
to gain the upper hand in their battles. He had thought for sure
that it would be enough for victory. But once again, he had fallen
short of his goal.
Ranma had somehow...learned the basics of the attack. Yet
the pig-tailed boy found that he could not hold on to his
depression for very long. It simply did not suit his temperament
well. very So in a brilliant stroke of genius, adapted the attack
to another form, using the one emotion he had never thought
possible.
Pride.
And Ranma was sure to have plenty of it. Oodles and oodles,
perhaps.
And why shouldn?t he? He had every reason.
Ranma had everything. The looks, the body, the girls, and
the brains(whenever he felt the need to use it, anyway).
Though Ranma wasn't well-to-do, he and his father managed
to scrape up a living whenever they went. Unlike him, they didn't
have the bank accounts to use whenever they went short on
supplies. They seemed to be able to live freely wherever they
wanted, whenever they wanted. Ryoga envied their freedom.
Why didn't things ever go his way? He was financially well
off. He had been born to a pair of loving parents, though they
had been directionally challenged just like him. Every physical
and emotional need had been sated. So couldn't he be ever
happy? Why?
He almost didn't notice the sickly green glow coming from
his body. But he managed to reign himself once again. Things
could have gotten worse.
'Dammit, why have I never won decisively against the
bastard? What does he have that I don't?'
He shivered as he remembered the last time they
encountered each other. Things had not been pretty to begin with,
and they went downhill even further after a few hearty insults
to their honor, ancestry, and the possibility of conceiving
children.
And Ranma had responded with an increasing apathy, his
attention seemingly elsewhere. In all their fights, unless he
had an invincible new technique or something similar, the
pig-tailed boy would respond with an exaggerated nonchalance,
weaving in andout of his blows like an eel. But he'd always
leave a part of his attention on the fight, if only to throw a
few insults to the mix.
Not this time, though. Ranma began to respond a bit too
slowly, all the while mumbling inconsistent fallacies. And he
meant to capitalize on that, while the opportunity presented
itself. Jabs and knees slipped through more and more. Blows
that should have been easily evaded hit more often than not.
And his rival's answering attacks were surprisingly halfhearted.
Ryoga could barely restrain his glee. This time, the last laugh
would be his!
One blow; perfectly executed, carrying behind it all the
considerable power he had at his command. Ranma flew back at
incredible speed, crashing through a wall on an abandoned
construction site(thank god for small mercies). And he remembered
laughing hysterically, euphoric at his apparent victory.
His giggles died down, though, when his hated(?) rival
strode out of the hole with nary an injury. His clothes had
seen better days, but he was practically unharmed. A series of
slow, sure steps revealed total the absence of injuries
whatsoever.
*'No way...'* he remembered saying out loud.
Ranma had graced him with full attention now. And no, it
wasn't pretty, especially with his eyes glowing with an inner,
icy flame. The fact that he had no visible battle aura sought
to unnerve him even more.
*'You are beginning to lose your entertainment factor,
Hibiki-san. You are far more annoying than amusing nowadays.'*
He could not truly explain the turmoil he felt at hearing
those words. But he was sure that one unfamiliar emotion had
become dominant, overpowering everything else. In the end,
Ryoga could only howl out an inarticulate response.
*'Ranma, prepare to DIE!!'*
He clenched his eyes shut, determined to stave off the
memories. What had followed was a brutal fight-no, a fight was
not the way to describe it. It was a merciless beating, savage
and deliberate. Ranma had not spared an inch on his body,
covering him with bruises everywhere. And all the while, showing
no emotion whatsoever.
Oh, he tried to make a token resistance. He might not
have his rival's inhuman speed, but his strength was almost
unparalleled. With the Bakusai Tenketsu training, Ranma's slow,
measured hits should not have hurt like they did. Yet his best
efforts were all for naught. The Pigtailed boy plowed through
his best defenses like they weren't there. Every time an opening
was revealed, Ryoga was hit by a single, jackhammer blow. The
strength behind those attacks was mind-boggling. How could
Ranma have gained such power?
After what seemed like a lifetime, it finally ended. His
ordeal was over. He lay bleeding and broken on the cracked
pavement, desperate to lapse into the sweet embrace of
unconsciousness. His breath came in short, painful gasps. But
Ranma was not nearly finished, not quite so. As a brutal
culmination to the day, Ranma approached his battered body,
still revealing nothing in his features. The pig-tailed boy
knelt close, whispering to his ear...
*'I can end your pain, Hibiki-san,'* he had hummed
sibilantly in his ear. *'I can do easily, quickly. You would
not even notice the journey through the veil of death.
Would you desire such an existence as you live now?'*
In retrospect, Ryoga wouldn't have thought that as a bad
idea, especially in the midst of firing a Shi Shi Hokodan.
The whispering continued. *'...Alone, friendless, without
anything to call your own, plagued by unfathomable urges? To
wander in search of an intangible...thing, that you might never
find?
Ryoga stared back with glazed, not really comprehending
most of what was said. He tried to say something, anything. But
his throat was too dry, raw from all the hoarse screaming he
had done earlier, from his roars of rage to higher-pitched cries
of pain.
*'What have you been searching for, all these years,
fallen one? Whatever had possessed you to throw aside some of
the comforts of civilization, for the your own invisible need?
Are you tired of such an existence, of being the repository
of such despair? Tell me, Hibiki-san. Just say the word, and
I shall grant to you...freedom...'*
Such darkness...such coldness in those eyes. For how long
had such inhumanity lain hidden beneath the once innocent,
cerulean orbs? Had the darkness always been there, merely
hidden behind an iron curtain, or had spontaneously sprung
forth in conjunction with the aftershocks of being
disillusioned?
He had been tempted. So tempted, that he had considered
his offer, if only for a moment. What would he say to him? What
should he say?
*'No...no. Not..yet...'* He managed to croak out.
Imperceptibly, Ranma had nodded, much to his relief. He
idly noted that it was already dark.
*'Good. You still have your spirit.'* He had nodded once
again, this time more to himself than anything else. *'Then you
shall live. Live, to do as you wish. For now'*
He could do nothing but gurgle in reply. Ranma straightened,
an arm outstretched, pointing in his direction. For one
terrifying moment, he thought Ranma would launch a blast that
was sure to kill him in his weakened state. His eyes widened in
disbelief as a soft glow enveloped his body, coaxing his body to
heal itself. As Ryoga felt his injuries gradually repair itself,
he grew drowsier and drowsier, until he could no longer keep
his eyes open. Before he could lapse into slumber, he had heard
Ranma whisper once more :
*'I will not be so...lenient next time. Oyasumi...'*
The next time he woke up, it was already light outside.
Only a night had passed, and most of his bruises had started to
fade already. Gingerly, he felt around for his pack, and had
begun his decade-old practice of wandering aimlessly once
again. But the turmoil would leave him, the memories of the
previous night stuck deep inside his subconscious...
What had he felt in those few minutes of brutality? He
asked himself. What was the prevalent sense that had nearly
overpowered his sensibilities, freezing him in stasis, like he
had never faced another warrior in combat before? WHAT had he
felt?
.........
.........
Strange. Unfamiliar. Disturbing. Very much so.
.........
.........
Oh, yes. Now he knew. No matter how hard he felt about
denying it. He had no choice but to be honest, hard as it is to
be done.
.........
Fear. Pure, unadulterated Fear.
====*====*====
Ranma woke up restless and exhausted. He glanced at
the phosphorescent dials of his wall clock, the timepiece
telling him he had awakened 3 hours earlier that usual. He
probably wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, now that
he thought about. It was surprising. He was sure he had
dreamed, but he wasn't sure what the dream had been all
about. All he knew was that when Morpheus lost his tenuous
grip on him, he found himself holding the items he had
recieved last night.
He sat cross-legged upon his futon, clad only in his
boxers, cradling the swords like newborn babes. Ranma stared
out into the darkness, searching...for what? He himself did
not know. Perhaps it would come if he thought about it hard
enough.
His mother's voice echoed in his mind, gentle and
curious. Asking for an reply he did not know how to answer.
Or maybe, did not _want_ to answer?
Why had he carried these...artifacts...before? He could
not remember a time in which he had used a weapon at any given
length of time, despite his proficiency in them. Yet he must
have, but the memories eluded him.
He must have used the pair, one time or another. He
could not remember much, almost as if parts of his mind
was a blank slate, that had a section wiped clean. But his
finger caressed the weapons in a hauntingly familiar manner.
He drew one of the blades from its scabbard. It slid
out of its confinement with a soft hiss, grateful, he
supposed, of its freedom. Twisting his wrist slightly,
moonlight reflections shifting all across the room, Ranma
once again marveled at its beauty. Such beauty, such
perfection. Perfectly suited to cut the air with least bit
of resistance, or...
-cutting through flesh and bone like a hot knife
through butter, flashing blade spraying crimson droplets
all around in its wake, an elegant display of-
He staggered a bit at the mental picture. Where
the hell did it come from? He shook his head to clear
it, his eyes gradually drawing back to the hypnotic play
of reflections on the sword. _HIS_ sword...
-unstoppable, both by steel or sinew. Unhampered
by the physical constraints as dictated by the ignorant
fools that comprised most of the _Lambs_. How easily had
his weapons sliced through-
His fist slammed into his forehead with enough force
to send shockwaves, rattling the window frames of his
room. It would leave a nasty bruise, but Ranma felt it
was worth the effort. Besides, he knew from experience
that the bruise would disappear in a few minutes, an hour
at most. What was important was that it accomplished its
purpose.
Ranma stood up, staggering a bit as he did. Where
in he world had these images come from? It couldn't be
coincidence-he had enough experiences with the bizarre
that things like these never happened without a reason.
It just was a matter of finding out what. The reason might
even turn out as petty as a bread feud...
'Why?' Ranma wondered silently. 'What's happening to
me? Why can't I remember some things?'
It was back to square one. Why had he carried these
blades before? What purpose had these served in the past?
Why? Why?
-lack of a sharpened edge never deterred the weapon
from its purpose, destiny shaped by its wielder. Skill directed
its force, behind it, the will of one who knew no master.
Rebirth and Death, they were as-
He cried out in anger and frustration, his fist once
again connecting with a sorely abused cranium. This time, the
thin dermal layer between his knuckles and head split, and
blood seeped from the wound. There would be no hiding this one.
It would a couple of hours before the wound closed up.
Ranma gasped heavily, despite the lack of exertion. He
tottered towards the window, opened because of the heat. 'Why
must I be tormented so? What could I have ever done to deserve
this? Why?!?'
-Why?!? You ask why...Why...-
He opened his eyes painstakingly, as if afraid to see
the darkened sky. He glanced at his fist, resisting the urge
to slam it once again on his noggin. Answers will not come,
simply because he wanted to. It just wasn't that easy, he
supposed.
He sat back heavily on the futon, a hand over his coldly
wet fingers. Fingers, wet with...
-blood. Blood as red as the deepest crimson. Coating the
floor, the bodies, the walls, but never on the blade. Immaculate
as ever since the day it was forged. Blood could never touch
it, no matter how much it had spilled in the service of-
He could do nothing, nothing at all. All he could do
was pray for deliverance. And at the same time, he was sure
it would never come, not until all had been revealed.
Blood. He had never spilled blood before. At least,
not before Jusendo, and the Battle with a winged nemesis. But
he knew that he could never do that, not until that fateful
day, for as long as he could remember. Remember..
-nothing. There would be nothing, no memories to be left,
nothing to hold on. Nothing must be left, to protect the-
He could do nothing. Nothing.
At least, now, one of the questions had been answered.
Ranma now knew, with absolute certainty, why he 'carried' these..
he could find no word unflattering enough to describe the
weapons, these...unholy implements.
'The Saotome Family Sword is a weapon of honor, used as
the clan's insignia...and occasionally, as a weapon in duels of
honor, long ago...'
He breathed heavily, as he sought to push through the fog
clouding his mind.
'These...they've never carried any sort honor...' his eyes
glittered darkly. Darker than even the shadowy room. Darker, it
seemed, than the deepest purple shade. A sight that would have
startled all that knew him.
'Their only purpose...were as harbingers...of death...'
====*====*====
End chapter 2.
====*====*====
Damn, this stuff's been in hiatus for so long. I blame myself
(mostly), and other assorted idiots close to the branches of my
family tree. Finally finished the damn thing too. Chapter three's
mostly done, but I'm not making any promises. Learned that the hard
way. Sorry, but this part's too introspective, not enough gratuitous
violence for my taste.
Don't worry, things are about to heat up soon. And some nasty
revelations are about to be uncovered. Oh, this doesn't include
revealing the plots. Heh, expect Cameos galore!!
The Three-fold God
By Kijin
====*====*====
Chapter 2
====*====*====
Past :
Shadows. So many shadows.
The sun slept once again, bowing down to his sister, the
Moon. Dusk spread her cold embrace on the populace. Where the
city lay, now a sea of blinking neon lights appeared. They
shone brightly through the dark night sky, perhaps to spite it.
But the artificial brilliance of halogen light bulbs could never
fully extinguish what lay behind each darkened alley, each
seamy room. The shadows would always be part of the city, and
part of life.
Part of _my_ life.
Must it always be so?
I have been part of the shadows for far too long. I feel
tremors of anxiety whenever the comforting blanket of the night
fails to graze me. I can never resist its allure, no matter
how I try. To some, the shadows are the enemy. To be feared.
To be loathed. To be despised. To be destroyed.
But how can one destroy The Dark?
Without Fear, there can be no Courage. Without earth,
there can be no sky. Heaven, without a hell. Joy, sadness.
God, the Devil. Dusk, for the Dawn. Hope, and Despair.
Light. The Shadows.
Humanity is defined by opposites. In my admittedly short
life, I have found this to true. Existence is given shape by
by conflicts, that which give rise to different schools of thought.
Why would people deny this adage, this basic tenet of survival?
Have we become such hypocrites that we divert our attention
from what truly holds much importance?
They have left the true enlightenment of knowledge in
the blessed decay of ignorance. The Fools. My head turns from
side to side. As I watch the various night creatures stalk
across the streets of the City, I cannot help but sigh at their
insistence in continuing this...farce. A facade of
obliviousness to the point of being criminal.
Ignorant ones, would you ignore that which I see? Or
did rather, choose not to see. Have you ever wondered if your
day is always filled with Happy faces, and Shining smiles?
What about us, those who live in the shadows? Those who _are_
the shadows. Would you ignore us then, when our duty tells
us to visit you?
No. I cannot let myself become this petty. No sympathy
is needed for one such as I, nor do I need to. Let the babes
play in the mud. Let them be the Children of the Sun. I shall,
and always remain, Child of the shadows.
Tainted, you say? I am not, far from it, in fact. What
you see as evil is but a facet of side your kind despises. You
see only one side to the coin. Do you not know that NOTHING has
a single dimension? Before it is too late, use the sight that
our pagan gods have given us! Use the...
Ahh. I laugh at myself at this unexpected turn in my
so-called introspection. Truly, I have changed. Or perhaps
regaining that which I...lost some time ago. Perhaps I am not
so indifferent to the lure of the light, as I believed. Yes,
perhaps I even envy your ignorance. Hopeless it might be.
Yes. Live and laugh. Eat and drink, and breath. Children
of the Sun, cavort and sate yourself in midst of your Bacchanals.
The balance would still be maintained. Children of the light.
But never forget your siblings. We are your opposites. Yet we
deserve the right for our existence, as well. We are Siblings,
you and I.
I smile at the sights below me, and turn back to the
dark recesses of the suite, the highest available. It is our
turn now. Our turn to play in the sandbox of conflicts.
The shadows have come. THE Shadow has come.
====*====*====
The swordsman stood atop the cliff, poised in a majestic
Chudan-no-kamae stance. The katana was held in two hands, tip
angled just above the eyebrows. His eyes were closed, focused
on something that only he could see. Silence ruled the air, the
rush of the waterfall providing a background for the swordsman's
concentration. He remained at that pose for minutes, waiting for
the right moment to strike.
His eyes snapped. With a loud Kiai, he swung down in a
powerful stroke, the air cleft by the strike.
Then, silence reigned once more. To be broken only by
the arrival of another hakama-clad warrior. The new arrival
was older, and carried a samurai's traditional weapons, the
Daisho. The resemblance between the two was unmistakable.
"How goes your training, nephew?"
The younger of the two relaxed from his stance, and
turned to face the other swordsman.
"Very well, Uncle. Thank you for your concern."
He nodded at his answer. "Good. You have truly become
a powerful practitioner of the Kuno school of Kenjutsu. Soon,
you shall inherit the Title of Grandmaster of our school."
"Yes...the Grandmaster..."
"Was it really necessary to skip school, though? You
might have come back few times, but only to contact this...
Nabiki character. A Samurai must be well-educated as well as
chivalrous. It would not do for a Kuno to be ignorant,
Tatewaki."
The younger Kuno stared at his uncle with blazing eyes.
"I must train to humble the foul Saotome!" He raged. "He has
been a thorn at my side for far too long! Such insults must be
avenged! My sword demands it!"
The man sighed for what seemed the hundredth time for
the day. He knew about his nephew's obsession, blaming this to
his rather...temperamental...sensibilities. He would turn a
little thing into a monstrous fiasco by a sudden flight of
fancy.
'Must have come from his father's side.' He thought,
ignoring Tatewaki for a moment.
But family was family. If his errant nephew wanted to
study the higher forms of the Nine-skills School, who was he
to deny him? All he could do was hope for the best.
"Have you mastered all written on the scrolls?"
"Of course! The techniques written should most useful for
vanquishing the Foul Saotome. This time, he will not survive
our encounter!"
"Tatewaki," The elder Kuno tried to reason with slightly
deranged young man, "Is it really necessary for the boy to die?
Duels of Honor are no longer tolerated in this era, you know?
You could end up locked inside a cell. And the family's honor
will be strained." He hardened his gaze. "I will not have the
Kuno name dishonored, Tatewaki."
Tatewaki flinched back. He wasn't frightened by his
uncle, of course not! "Of c...course, Uncle. The Peasant's
life is too inconsequential to risk a sentence from the plebeian
courts..." He was merely indulging an aging man's request.
His glare had not fallen off. "See that he...lives,
Tatewaki. And to make sure there aren't any...accidents, I
shall accompany you in this endeavor."
"Uncle, this is most unnecessary! I assure you that
Saotome shall live through this encounter! You have my word
on it!"
"Of course you do. But I also want to see this...Saotome
boy for myself." He replied. "You are very good at Kenjutsu,
nephew. So good, that I think there are very few in Japan,
mayhap in the world, that can match your Swordsmanship. That is
why I am puzzled that a boy younger than you can actually
defeat you bare handed. That's speaks of great Skill."
Curiosity was not the only reason he would watch the duel,
though. The name, Saotome, sounded very...familiar. He belonged
to the highest of social classes in Japan. The affairs of the
state, including the Emperor's, were well-known to him. If he
remembered correctly, there was some mention about a new agent
in the ranks, one under the personal command of the Emperor,
himself...
"Skill?" Tatewaki snorted. "Ha! Base trickery, I say! He
resorts to sorcery most foul when it is apparent that I, the
Great Kuno Tatewaki, would rise supreme!" Thunder echoed in
the background.
The man narrowed his eyes. "You have too much pride,
Tatewaki. That will be your downfall, as with all warriors.
Have your manservant pack your bags. We shall be leaving
tomorrow. 7 weeks of training should be enough."
As the Middle-aged man walked away, Kuno Tatewaki
plotted his nemesis's defeat.
'Soon, Saotome. I have finally acquired the means for
your downfall. You shall be humbled, and laid low, as I show
the true power of the Kuno Kenjutsu Ryu!'
====*====*====
"An excellent meal, Kasumi! Your cooking never ceases to
lose its appeal!"
"T-thank you Ranma. It means a lot, coming from you."
One girl, however, did not take this well.
"You pervert! Stop hitting on my sister!" Guess who that
was.
"Unfortunately," Muttered Nabiki.
"Look, why don't you get off my case already!"
"Off your case?! Is that what you think I'm doing?"
"What else would you call it? Oh, I know : Nagging!"
"Why you!"
Before things could go downhill, Kasumi halted the spat
with a few words. "Please, not in front of the dinner table!"
Ranma and Akane turned away shamefacedly. "Sorry, Kasumi.
I'll try not to...aggravate Akane again."
"Hmmph!" Akane just snorted.
Kasumi smiled sunnily. "That's all right Ranma. I'm sure
you didn't mean it."
Ranma smiled in return, and Akane once again glared
angrily at the pig-tailed boy.
"So, Ranma-kun," Nabiki ventured. "How have you been,
lately?"
Ranma glanced warily at the brown-haired girl. Experience
had been a hard teacher. "Not much, really. Ryouga's been lost
for two months, Mousse disappeared somewhere, so did Kuno. Last
I heard, the 'Blue thunder' went to his uncle's home in the
mountains to do some training. Don't know where, though."
Nabiki shook her head. "I didn't mean that. I was talking
about your...social status. Chosen the lucky girl yet?"
Ranma shook his head. "Not really. Relationships are too
much of a hassle, anyway. Girls bring nothing but trouble."
He chuckled.
"Oh really, Ranma-kun?" She smirked lopsidedly. "Your
opinion seems a bit biased to me. Girls do _not_ want to
bring you trouble. They do, however, want other things,
things only you can provide."
He leaned back on his heels. "I said girls, Nabiki. I
didn't say anything about _Women_. "
"Oh really?" 'Perhaps you aren't so easy to crack,
Ranma.' "Are you implying that you want not a girl, but a
_Woman_? And how would you define one, Ranma-kun?"
Ranma smiled, leaning forward across the table, directly
in front of Nabiki. His expression became sultry, if the word
could ever be used to describe a man. "Wouldn't you like to
know..."
"Oohh, somebody learned how to be subtle!" Nabiki laughed
delightedly. When did Ranma learn how flirt?
Soun and Genma merely went about their shogi, happy that
their children still got along. Nodoka sighed in pride, at the
obvious (or perhaps imaginary?) skill her son had at seduction.
Kasumi gazed longingly at the pig-tailed boy-no, man- and
wished she could play as well as Nabiki could with words. Akane,
on the other hand, turned redder and redder at the pervert's
audacity.
"Really, Ranma. What would you consider an ideal woman?
What traits set her from the standard schoolgirl, pray tell."
"Well, for one thing, a woman doesn't worry about
appearance, because she _knows_ she is desirable. The vagaries
that plague a girl fall on the wayside for her."
Unnoticed by anyone, Kasumi lowers her eyes to the floor.
But Nabiki plows through, drawing a bit closer.
"And?"
"A woman trusts a man, even if it is only for a day. This
Freudian theory of trust and companionship holds true, after all.
Even in the most platonic of agreements, trust is an inherent
commodity most important in all compromises."
He drew closer to Nabiki until their faces were only a
few inches apart. "But most important of all," He whispered
softly, though not so low, as he could be heard by all, "A
woman knows how to please a man. In oh-sooo-many delightful
ways." He licked his lips suggestively.
Nabiki shivered in response. Was it getting hot in here?
"Perhaps you should...should hold that thought, Ranma. Who
knows, maybe someone might indulge you soon." she murmured .
"Are you trying to say something, Nabiki-chan?" he
breathed. Nabiki was nearly rendered insensate. "Perhaps...to
volunteer?" He laughed richly, a deep, baritone rumbling in
his chest. "I assure you, if you do, I'll make it worth your
while."
Everyone froze. Akane nearly exploding in anger, Nabiki
by her libido, and Kasumi with no small longing, and a bit of
embarrassment. Nodoka glowed with pride at her manly son. She
was merely content to observe the interaction of the younger
generation.
Thankfully, the lull in the conversation was broken when
Soun interrupted.
"By the way, Ranma, I think I found some of the things
you left when you moved." he announced. "We found some bags
that had your name on it. Kasumi, please get the things you
found earlier."
"Yes father." Kasumi climbed up the stairs to retrieve the
said items.
"Things?" Ranma was puzzled. As far as he knew, what
meager possessions he had was already at the Saotome residence.
He could have sworn that everything were accounted for.
"Hah! Check, Tendo!" Genma crowed, having rearranged the
pieces when Soun was distracted.
"Eh?" Soun looked back at the board. "Ah. I couldn't see
that reversal. A fine match, Saotome."
Ranma turned to Nabiki. Akane was incensed at this insult.
Imagine, the perverted baka's ignoring me! Why, most boys
would kill for the chance to even speak with her!
"Did know what Tendo-san was talking about, Nabiki?"
Nabiki shook her head. "Beats me."
"But I could have sworn that I brought everything with
me when we moved out. What could I have possibly left behind?"
"Hmmpph! I bet he probably left some nudie pictures!
You Probably hid them somewhere where we couldn't find,
hentai!" Akane declared, hoping for a reaction.
Ranma continued to ignore her.
"Perhaps a change of clothes? Or maybe some martial arts
paraphernalia, maybe?" Nabiki suggested. "After all, you never
were the most astute of people, Ranma-kun. You could have
forgotten something."
He raised his eyebrows. "Forget?" he answered matter-of-
factly. "I have a very good Memory, Nabiki."
Her own eyebrows rose at this deadpan delivery. "Awfully
sure about yourself, aren't you?"
"Is there any reason I shouldn't be?" this brought on a
series of chuckles around the table. All except for one.
"Hey! Stop ignoring me, you..."
Ranma suddenly whipped towards her. His eyes held utter
seriousness, brooking no nonsense. Akane found out that she
could not tear her eyes away from his own.
"And then what, Akane? Have you spitting like a viper
for not agreeing with you? Or blowing up for some imagined
insult to your glorious perfection?" he all but glared at the
girl.
He continued with his tirade, this time softly. "You
would have blown up for every little thing I said, Akane. I
can't hold even a decent conversation with you anymore. You
argue and contradict every little thing I say. Do you have to
be angry all the time, Akane?"
The short-haired girl was a bit speechless. She never
thought Ranma would talk _somewhat_ logically in response. How
much had he changed since he left the Tendo household?
Ranma sighed. "I'm not trying to be insulting, Akane, even
if I seemed a bit rude for not paying you any attention. But I'd
rather not have this gathering turn ugly because the two of us
couldn't agree on a few things. Please understand."
Contrary to her name, Akane managed to restrain her
considerable temper in check. She didn't like to admit it, but
the baka was right. 'This time', she conceded. So he made a
point. That didn't mean she had to like it, of course.
"Wow, I'm impressed, sis! I didn't think I've ever seen
you reign yourself that quick. It seems like you've learned
_some_ things."
"Shut up, Nabiki." she mumbled.
Everyone in the room turns around to the sound of footsteps.
It was Kasumi, coming down to bring a few bundles in her slim
arms. The things didn't look heavy, but they had the distinct
impression that they weren't all that light.
"Finally, you're here, Sis! So, what are they?" Nabiki
could barely contain herself.
Kasumi handed out the parcels to the pig-tailed boy.
"Here you go Ranma-"
"Huh? This is it? What the heck..."
"-kun. I never knew you owned a few swords, and expensive
ones, if I'm to judge."
'Expensive?' Nabiki had perked up at the magic words.
'Since when did Ranma own such things? And swords?'
"Oh, great! I never thought you'd sink so low. But it
seems you're going to turn into another Kuno!" Akane sniffed.
Nodoka got curious. Katanas? Her son had one? Why?
"Ranma-chan, where did you get that? Was it given to
you?" If it was, he'd have to send it back. After all, he was
supposed to inherent the Saotome Family Blade.
As their eyes fell on him, they showed different amounts
of surprise. Ranma sat on his heels, bowed down as if praying.
His hands carried the two cloth-wrapped, cylindrical objects,
cradling them gently. He treated each with the gentlest of
reverence. In fact, his gesture would not have been totally
inappropriate in holding a newborn baby.
"Ranma-kun? Are...you...?" Kasumi inquired tentatively.
Ranma kept on cradling the weapons. His eyes were closed,
and a suspicious moisture collected at the corners of his
lashes. What was going on here?
"Ranma?" even Akane was unnerved. She had never, not even
once, had she seen Ranma in this position. He'd always been
fiercely introverted, hiding all forms of external emotions from
the public eye. He usually regarded such displays as unmanly
before, so why now? Granted, it wasn't much, but still...
Nabiki decided to attempt to rouse him from his present
state. "Hey, Saotome. You in there?" she shook him a little,
just a bit, not wanting to startle him.
Slowly, Ranma raised his head, just enough to conceal his
eyes beneath his bangs. He sighed deeply, as if in deep thought.
He remained silent for a few moments, before answering their
unspoken question.
"I...remember these. I thought I would have forgotten
by now. But little things, smidgens of...they just don't let
themselves fade away..."
"Huh?" came the collective response.
"You don't understand? Well, it's not really important."
He brightened, losing interest in the weapons. He lay them at
his side. "Ehh, what now?"
"What isn't important, Ranma? Come on, don't leave us
in the dark, here." Nabiki spouted.
Nodoka had a nasty suspicion, but preferred to keep
her silence.
"So, you're playing with swords now, Ranma? Since when
did you start carrying one? And by the looks of it, you have
been, for a long time." Akane voiced her own opinion.
"For sometime. Can't quite remember, though." Ranma
muttered in a low, smooth voice. A tone they'd never heard
him adopt. "Must have been a few years ago."
"Can I see it, then? The sword, I mean." Kasumi asked.
Ranma whipped up his head in surprise. Kasumi? The
others had similar thoughts. Since when had she been so
interested in swords?
Kasumi blushed rosily and ducked her head. "Uhm, I'm
just a bit curious, that's all. They don't feel like the
regular Japanese Katana. They're a bit heavier, for one thing."
They didn't notice the two old coots stop their game, to
listen at their conversation. What was puzzling, though, was
the fact that Genma stared with an unblinking gaze, Not even
paying attention to Soun absently shifting the pieces around.
Wordlessly, Ranma held out one of the swords to her,
keeping the other hidden behind his back. Kasumi gingerly took
the object out of his hand, idly caressing his digits almost
absently. Nobody noticed, but Ranma did. Beet-red, he whipped
his hand back quickly, hoping that no one had seen _that_.
But that was strange. Why would he be acting so jumpy around
Kasumi?
Kasumi held the sword a foot away from her, firmly
gripping the handle in her right hand. She frowned a bit at
the weight, wondering why it felt like so. Putting it off
for a moment, she slowly unsheathed the blade, left hand
behind the ornate horse carving. Light glinted off the
silvery metal blade, revealing-
"No edge?!" Akane had jumped out of her seat, boggling
at the sight. The rest showed similar signs of confusion
and disbelief.
If anything, Genma's expression turned a bit darker.
Ranma laughed a bit nervously. "Ha ha ha, I didn't
think anyone would notice..." He trailed off, realizing how
stupid that sounded.
Nodoka examined the blade herself, paying attention to
the most minute details. "The weapon is quite well-made, very
well crafted, in fact. Perfect balance, wrong weight though.
It doesn't seem unfinished, but deliberately created this way.
Almost like a bokken, with its rounded edge, but thinner."
She turned to her son. "Tell me, Son. Why carry around
something like this, when you already have the Family's
Honor Blade?" She wanted to tease him. He was so cute when
he was flustered, reminding her of times long gone, back
when he was just a toddler.
Shockingly, his grey-blue eyes darkened to a nearly
purple shade, as if absorbing the light from the ceiling
lamps. An aura of menace could be felt around him. The room
froze in an enigmatic silence, and all could not find the
strength to break it. Nobody uttered a word. All waited for
an answer that might not come. And that prediction just might
come true, by the looks of things. Ranma chose to keep his
counsel, his eyes unfocused. Turned inwards to view
recalcitrant memories, perhaps.
This did not bode well. Nodoka shivered, unknowingly
mirroring Genma. There wasn't any admonishment present in
her voice, but her son acted as if scolded. What started as
a congenial inquiry pertaining to her son's quirks degenerated
into a macabre parody. At least, that's how it seemed to the
concerned mother.
Nodoka cursed herself for being too inquisitive. Not that
anyone could blame her. She was only concerned for Ranma's
well-being. But sometimes, her protectiveness went too far. As
it did tonight. It seemed like there was no hope of salvaging
this affair.
Nabiki wasn't stupid, and the same went for Kasumi.
Ranma rarely showed anything other absent-minded cheerfulness
and good-natured arrogance. Due to his forgiving nature, it
was easy to underestimate his congeniality as foolishness.
Challengers could knock at their door, every Dick and Tom could
attempt to beat the crap out of everyone's favorite pig-tailed
martial artist, and still Ranma considered such occurrences as
normal as breathing. It wasn't easy to get a rise out of
anything resembling seriousness from the former aquatransexual.
But nearly everyone knew when to back down from him, even
Ryoga and Cologne. When asked why they vacillate, they only
said one word.
"Jusendo."
Even Soun and Akane knew when hold back. His ability to
take abuse was legendary-but so was ability to dish them out.
Both of them knew Ranma had been partly responsible for tearing
apart Mount Horaisan, in a battle with Herb. For someone to
carry such power...
You could only kick a sleeping dragon a couple of times
...Before it woke up and swatted the annoying bug that dared
disturb its slumber, into so much paste.
Surprisingly, it was Genma who saved the day. "Hey, I
remember! Soun, you said Kasumi baked an entire batch of
chocolate-chip cookies? I can't wait to take a bite out of
them!" He rubbed his hands gleefully.
"Ehh?" Ranma glanced up with a slightly confused
expression. "Oh right, I remember! Your dishes are always a
delight to taste! Come on, let's get some!!" He brightened
a bit, losing the hardness in his eyes.
He was a bit surprised when no one commented on his
appetite. Usually, mentioning his desire for Kasumi's cooking
was enough to set off a round of remarks about the 'Bottomless
Pit' he called a stomach, basically Nabiki wryly answering,
and Akane responding with her Mallet.
'Must a record or somthing.' he thought.
Everyone heaved a sigh of relief, except for the Fathers.
Disaster had been averted by the timely intervention of Genma's
incorrigible gluttony. Who ever knew his stomach could save the
day?
'Once again, another round went to Saotome's.' thought
Nabiki.
As the group trooped towards the engawa for enjoy the cool
night and Kasumi's cookies, Nabiki could not help but notice
Genma's glance at his Son. It had anything but greed in it.
Instead, his expression had been stony. Calculating, even. She
hit upon a startling revelation. It had not been an idle remark
on his part, but a deliberate attempt to defuse the situation.
By the looks of things, a situation he had seen before, and had
not like in the very least.
Nabiki did not like thing she could not figure out.
Something was obviously going on with the Saotome's, Father
and Son, at least. Nodoka could be ignorant of the factors,
and was the likely possibility. It was Ranma who was the enigma.
As they filed out one by one, everybody noticed that the
pig-tailed boy had not let go of packages. If anything, he
clutched them a bit tighter than before. But he gave no
indication that he even knew their presence, swinging them
around his back with practiced ease. The whole effect was
unsettling.
Kasumi contained her relief as she served glasses of
milk along with saucers of cookies, absently noting
Genma-ojisan's loss of appetite. Despite his earlier statement,
he seemed anything but enjoying the meal. In fact, the same
went for everyone. She was sure it had somthing to do with
Ranma's peculiar behavior.
As everyone nibbled on Kasumi's culinary delights,
Ranma absently put a cookie on his mouth, chewing slowly. The
moment Kasumi had given him the parcels, he seemed to have
lost track of the time, only remembering the moment when
Oyaji mentioned dessert. Wait a minute-what did Kasumi give
him again?
He looked down at his hand. There it was. wrapped in a
piece of heavy linen. The covering was sufficiently thick
that it took a bit of time to figure out what it was, but
Ranma was fairly certain one of them was a batterred pack.
Now, how about the others?
He grabbed and squeezed the long ensemble, trying
to figure their identity by touch. It took some time, but
eventually, he got a bit of idea upon what the package held.
It was rather obvious, after all.
His eyes widened, unfocused. This did not escape
everyone's notice.
Suddenly, Ranma lost his appetite. The cookies did not so
great anymore.
====*====*====
{{{ ...It started with a scream, only to end in a gurgling
protest reminiscent of that of a drowning man.
The nameless bodyguard, clad in a business suit, slid
down to the cold, damp floor. His fingers twitched feebly,
perhaps in an unconscious protest to his impending demise.
Perhaps his last thoughts were of the possibility that he could
muster his defenses to hold off his death?
HE eyed the fallen man with a cold eye. Attempting to
stave off one's mortality, especially when one faced HIM, was
a foolhardy effort at best. They would know no redemption, no
salvation. Not from their allies, friends, or their individual
gods.
HIS soft-shod shoes patted silently across the darkened
hall. Slowly, unerringly, they would bring HIM towards HIS
'client'. HIS lips curled slightly. It would be an honor many
had received, but few would enjoy for long. Too bad.
The place was quite well guarded, for a Yakuza lord's
demesne. Traps of all sorts, a few pitfalls, Dozens of thugs,
some hi-tech alarm systems, and assorted sellswords all combined
to form a formidable defense for uninvited guests, like HIM.
But it wouldn't be enough. Not nearly enough to even slow
HIM down.
'the Main Office...' HE paused for a bit. All of the
security cameras were broken. Emergency power had been shut
down. Perimeter defenses up to the top floor of the building
were rendered non-functional. And not a single man in sight.
Pathetic.
The huge double door stood ominously in front of HIM.
Made from tempered titanium alloys and other synthetic composites,
It had proven itself impenetrable to regular police
demolitionists.
The barest hint of a frown appeared. Was this the reason
why this...errand...was assigned to HIM? Something so whimsical
as a strong gate? HE would find out soon.
Acute senses, powerful enough to shame those of bestial
predators, extended itself from their normal restraints. Every
sensory detail, from the most obvious visual clues to the tiniest
auditory disturbance were stored and analyzed. Finally he came
to a conclusion. HIS client lay beyond this very doors. And he
wasn't alone.
Perhaps he'd get a bit of workout tonight.
'Let's see how good his 'guardians' would be...'
HIS blade flashed. A soundless shriek echoed unnaturally
in the corridor. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then,
slowly, the door fell inwards in several pieces.
The door revealed an huge room that stretched for several
dozen meters. Black and white vinyl tiles alternated on the
floor, set in eerie hexagonal patterns. Gothic buttresses(?)
decorated the walls, somewhat out of place in the shadowy expanse.
A single fluted chandelier provided a dim illumination for entire
space.
Near the very end, between two suit-clad men, sat HIS
target.
Ah, there he was. And he had some company, too.
"Impressive, most impressive. I did not think anyone could
penetrate my stronghold, much less a single man."
A tiny curl of the upper lip. All were silent, bound in the
spell of atrophication.
--------------------------------------
The Oyabun tried to act nonchalant, but couldn't not hide
the slightest of shivers that escaped from his shoulders. He was
afraid, very much so, and had every right to be. He exactly who
his visitor was, if only by reputation. He doubted if he would
live through the night.
But he wouldn't go without a fight. He had hired the very
best of guards for the duration of the week. They would stop this
assassin. Perhaps, even kill him...
The Oyabun shivered once again, this time in delight. If
he managed to do exactly that, his reputation would rise among
the ranks in the Underworld, and many would fear his own self,
instead. The idea was very attractive.
His visitor had not moved from where he stood, as if waiting for
something. This suited him just fine. His guards were in the
process of completing their preparations, hidden deep among the
shadows of the room. Finishing this, then would they attack in
concert, sure to slay they slayer. He laughed silently at the
irony of it all.
Still no reaction from the assassin. Did he know about his
guards? It made no difference if he did. The Oyabun decided to
engage him in a simple conversation.
"So, what brings you to my humble abode? Business,
perhaps?"
There was no answer, nor did he expect one.
He shrugged. Oh well, at least he tried.
"You are quite an interesting fellow, don't you know?
And very secretive as well. Almost everyone in the world of
Shadows has some form of knowledge, in one form or another, about
you. You've become a legend, a modern-day Boogie-man for us
Humble Merchants." He smirked. His aide had signaled. 'They
are finished. It is time for them to act.'
He finished with an evil smile, directed at the silent
man in front of him. "And soon, you shall become a myth, then
will your name fade into the mists of fables." He laughed once
again.
He gestured grandly. "Do what is necessary. But do not harm
his face. I want to see what how our guest really looks."
-------------------------------------
There was a slight whistling sound, and a couple of shurikens
imbedded themselves in front of the assassin.
Movement. All around HIM, from several sources. Moving
faster than ordinary people could see, but due in part to the
darkness. Dressed in tight-fitting tunics, and wearing assorted
bladed and edged weapons, they were easily recognizable.
'Ninjas. Around ten of them. How quaint.'
The ninjas had stopped their motion, and now stood still in
the shadows. They probably thought they'd be invisible. 'Hhmpp,
as if.'
"Like them? I asked for their assistance a few weeks ago.
The very best from Iga, and I've personally seen their abilities.
I've had some trouble in the past, but they've taken care of it
quite easily before. Just like they'll take care of you."
The ninjas remained still for a while, thinking they could
use their visual and numerical advantages. They've of heard of
this particular assassin only from the tales of a few of their
recent employer's hired guns. But from what they've seen, this
would be a walk in the park.
HE glared coldly at the assorted shadowy figures trying to
remain concealed. But their efforts would be all for naught,
especially from someone like HIM.
HE could wait. Until their amateurish displays were
finished, HE would wait patiently. HE snorted as HIS gaze swept
through the room. The shadow warriors of Japan's Iga and Koga
regions were vastly overrated. Their importance in underworld had
been blown all out of proportion. Where a once proud, if somewhat
paranoid (and rightly so), Clan of spies and assassins prospered,
it had been replaced by a collection of scheming, second-rate
thugs. The proverbial 'Fall from grace' had only begun. Only the
dregs were left, not even worth HIS while.
It was a pity, really. The decline had started only in the
late years of the Reign of Tokugawa Ieyasu, just before the Meiji
restoration. Now all that was left were little more than performers,
strutting around for the enjoyment of tourists.
Several 'shaken' imbedding themselves on the floor in front
of HIS feet shook HIM from his reverie.
"You know, It would be easier for all concerned if you just
gave up. You ARE outnumbered. Even a man of your obvious talents
will be hard-pressed to even survive for the night."
The Oyabun's voice took on a low undertone. "Or perhaps you
could join me? The rewards would be most pleasing, I assure you. We
could change the flow of power around this country. My sources can
attest to that."
Finally, for the first time since his arrival, HE answered.
A whisper, but one that carried his dulcet tones to the farthest
corners.
"...Your convictions concern me not, dog. I am only here
to deliver..._Tenchu_..."
The words were received in anger. "Then die like the fool
that you are!!"
All at once, the shadow warriors converged as one.
--------------------------------------
The concerted assault began. Weapons had been unlimbered,
not having been far from their hands in the first place. Bodies
flew in an unerring flight towards HIM. HE was almost amused at
their lack of subtlety. Perhaps they thought HE would be easy
pickings? They didn't know how wrong they were.
So the melee, despite HIS opponent's efforts, began and
ended in moment. For the ninjas, their last few nanoseconds
stretched into an entire lifetime. They could see everything in
crystal clarity, as HIS blade swung faster than their reflexes
could follow. A sense of absolute helplessness filled their beings
as they felt the icy coldness of steel flash in their wake.
Powerless. That was all they were. Just as they should be,
in HIS presence.
HE sheathed HIS blade slowly, ever gentle and smooth in
motion. They had surrounded HIM, all standing in various
threatening poses. HE straightened, to look at HIS true target
right in the eye.
One by one, miniature geysers of blood spurted from nearly
every superficial artery of the standing ninjas. The air turned
to red, the salty scents filling his nostrils. Then, just as the
crimson fountains ended their display, various body parts began
sliding off from torsos, to splash in the pools of blood that
now dotted the floor.
Yes, HIS errand was nearly at an end. All obstacles had been
eliminated, leaving HIM a clear path to HIS goal. Quite a
predictable climax in his evening actually. There really couldn't
have been any other conclusion.
Slowly, HE approached the Oyabun, steps slow and measured.
there was no hurry. The little lordling would die soon enough.
"Wait! Please, mercy!"
HE ignored the plea. The Oyabun had fallen to his knees,
hysterical from fear and frustration. No quarter will be given.
Such was the price of one who broke from the shelter of anonymity.
"...Please..."
It was his own fault, really. The Underlord had grown too
sure of his own influence that he had attracted the wrong kind
of attention. There was strength in secrecy, and he chose to break
the cardinal rule.
"...It's not fair..."
When was life ever fair? Destiny threw all sorts of pitfalls
for one to trip upon. All one could truly do was soften the
landings, and tend to the wounds. It was a lesson HE learned a
long time ago. Back when...back when...
"...No...no..."
"It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"
The sobbing man looked up to his executioner.
"Stay sharp, the evening is still young." heh.
"...Huh?"
"Oyasumi..."
A flash, of silvery metal, and refracted light. A head fell,
to roll towards the far corner. Another crimson pool formed
before him, HIS blade still unstained since the beginning.
Curiously, HE stared at the puddle upon HIS feet. Before it had
congealed, the flood flowed into a nearly perfect oval of blood.
Dim lights reflecting from various corners, the puddle had
become a makeshift mirror. Tilting HIS head just so...
There. A face stared back at HIM. One so familiar, yet...
different, too. A pair of blue eyes shone several shades darker
than normal, framed in a face that couldn't have been more than
a decade and a half old.
HIS reflection tightened a few facial muscles, and soon a
very tiny smile could be seen. One that was sure to send many
a person to unreasoning fear, towards the depths of insanity.
"You can't sleep forever..." }}}
====*====*====
Toda Ichiro was scared.
Yes, scared. Very, very scared.
Walking down the forbidding hallway, a set of folders
in hand, did nothing to ease his fear. He was about to meet his
superiors for his monthly report, as he had been doing for the
past 6 years. He'd been in this job for so long, his perception
of reality had become a bit blurred at late. He hoped this
momentary lag from the real world wasn't permanent.
He clutched at the plastic folder with clammy palms, sweat
dripping. Today would be the day. He hoped that his network was
wrong. There would be others presenting their cases, but his
would be the last. An the most crucial. And from what he could
infer from the information gathered, heads will roll before the
day was over.
The hallway ended in a smooth wall. Featureless, it belied
the secrets that eh knew lay beyond. Steeling himself, he raised
his left hand to press on a unremarkable part of the wall. Like
an incantation, he pronounced a few words out loud.
"Toda, Ichiro. Chief administrator, Informations."
The section where his palm was pressed glowed briefly,
then a rectangular tile raised itself. Another section, this one
directly in front of his face, slid open. The receptacle spat
out a peculiar device somewhat similar to a binocular, and
positioned itself over his eyes. A mechanical voice began its
inquiry.
"**PURPOSE?**"
Toda answered. "Report, periodic presentation. Access :
Athena-3054."
"**STATUS?**"
His voice trembled a bit as he spoke. "O-operational
parameters : code yellow. Defcon...2."
There was a slight pause. The low hum of hidden machinery
filled the air for a few moments. Finally, the once plain black
wall split in the middle to reveal a passageway leading to an
elevator.
"**ACCESS APPROVED. THE COUNCIL WILL SEE YOU NOW.**"
Toda nodded to himself. The prospect of meeting his
superiors once again, as he had done so for several years, turned
his bones to water. But he would conduct himself with as much
dignity as he could muster. That was all he could do.
He walked towards the elevator, and the darkness swallowed
him.
====*====*====
The Council. Half a dozen of faceless puppet masters who
pulled the strings that bound Japan and most of the world. The
were composed of people of varying racial states. As to why they
chose Japan as their seat of power, he would never know. They sat
in a circle, all facing a low podium where Toda stood, prepared
to give his Report.
Toda's nervousness grew to new heights. Despite having a
lot practice, nothing could really eliminate the unreasoning fear
he felt every time he faced the council. Perhaps it was the
feeling that he was being interrogated by a collection of
executioners, all waiting for him to make a mistake. The fact
that he couldn't see their faces heightened this sense.
One of the Council member stirred slightly, to address the
quivering man.
"Your report, Administrator Toda."
Toda steeled himself for his oratory, however brief it
might be.
"Sir. Casualties : 2. 1 subject, M.I.A. 1 quarantined
and restrained at the A-Base for an onset of mild neuropsychosis.
All the rest are at their specific Branches, awaiting further
instructions pending the Inoshishi Incident. Medical and Security
crew have no reported anomalies or such."
"Continue."
He took a deep breath and started again.
"Research & Development requests additional funding for
the upgrading of the restraining matrices for the B-subjects.
Further investigation of the Halcyon process yielded negative
results for approximately 93.43% of the B-subjects. Each of their
life readings are on a steady incline downhill, Sir. The Project
Director hopes for the best, but chances of survival are
practically nil."
A collective sigh of resignation could be heard. A
querulous inquired almost hesitantly.
"Is there no hope for them, Administrator?"
Toda was surprised. This was the first time he'd ever
heard any of them show any sign of concern for their general
welfare. Perhaps they weren't so indifferent after all.
"The Director's team is still working 24-7, Sir. But all
calculations prove that the subjects would not survive for
another week. 10 days at most."
All were silent, perhaps slowly digesting this last fact.
But Toda knew that there communication between the Councilmen
on some level. He was pretty sure they were discussing what to
do in order to alleviate the loss. After all, manpower,
especially one so lucrative, was hard to find. Or create.
"We have decided to approve the request from R&D, for the
duration of the month. The department can ask whatever they want,
within reason."
Toda nodded. One notch added to his billboard.
"Is there anything else you'd like to share,
Administrator?"
Toda gulped. This was the hardest part yet. Despite it's
brevity, the information they've decoded from the encrypted
messages could very well shake the foundations of Japan. This
last bit would certainly have an impact all that were
concerned.
As steadily as he could, Toda began to repeat what his
officers decoded a few hours earlier.
"This message came 2 hours and 30 minutes ago, from one
of our Agents stationed near the Izanagi prefecture."
He could see nearly every Council member lean forwards,
barely able to control themselves in anticipation.
"Message reads : 'Ragnarok nears. The Pantheon is active.'"
====*====*====
"Where on earth am I now!?!"
The scream echoed back and forth across the valley,
gradually fading in strength. The thick canopy of trees screened
out most of the sunlight, despite it being high noon. Bright
rays streamed out and danced in a shimmering display that was
sure to elicit the delight of many. Assorted avians chattered
their songs in the branches of trees, adding a soothing background
for it all.
This didn't do a damn thing for a certain Lost Boy, though.
Right now, Ryoga's main concern was how to get back to
Nerima, and how in the world did he get here in first place.
He looked around and acquainted himself with his
surroundings. Try as he might, he could not could find any
familiar landmarks. Not that it would have done him any good.
His directional sense still showed no signs of improvement. The
best he could do now was have his lunch, then wander aimlessly
again. He hoped he'd have a better chance this time.
He took out a kettle out of his ever present pack, some
instant cup ramen, and his canteen. Gathering a few dry sticks,
Ryoga set them up on a small pit in the ground, aligning them
for the best positions. He prepared himself, focusing on
gathering his ki to light up the firewood. Extra care had to be
taken in order to control to wellspring of depression he used to
power the tiny ki blast. One mistake, and he could spiral into a
vicious circle of negative emotions, blowing up more than the
pile of firewood. It was hard enough to make the blast hot
enough to combust the wood.
Depression, he knew, wasn't the best of emotions to be
Used in a Ki attack. Neither were the rest of them, actually.
Fear, jealousy, rage, depression - these emotions were too random
And unreliable to be used in a battle, though that didn't stop
Him from using it anyway. Emotion powered attacks like these
drained the willpower, and the subsequent loss of brain power and
decision-making abilities definitely had their downsides. Besides,
his own attack, the Shi Shi Hokodan, wasn't as effective as he
wanted it to be.
The Shi Shi Hokodan was given to him as a scroll,
originally as a mining technique. His first ki attack, the Iron
Cloth, and later the Bakusai Tenketsu, weren't enough to beat his
most hated rival. So it was just a stroke of luck that he came
upon such a technique to employ against Ranma. A physical
manifestation of his spirit, an explosion of solid force, that was
what the ki-attack truly was-a soul bomb. And Ranma shrugs it
off in a regular basis.
'Ranma...even now that name provokes such irrational
flickers of...something. Rage..?' he grimaced.
Yes, even his most powerful technique to date was not enough
to gain the upper hand in their battles. He had thought for sure
that it would be enough for victory. But once again, he had fallen
short of his goal.
Ranma had somehow...learned the basics of the attack. Yet
the pig-tailed boy found that he could not hold on to his
depression for very long. It simply did not suit his temperament
well. very So in a brilliant stroke of genius, adapted the attack
to another form, using the one emotion he had never thought
possible.
Pride.
And Ranma was sure to have plenty of it. Oodles and oodles,
perhaps.
And why shouldn?t he? He had every reason.
Ranma had everything. The looks, the body, the girls, and
the brains(whenever he felt the need to use it, anyway).
Though Ranma wasn't well-to-do, he and his father managed
to scrape up a living whenever they went. Unlike him, they didn't
have the bank accounts to use whenever they went short on
supplies. They seemed to be able to live freely wherever they
wanted, whenever they wanted. Ryoga envied their freedom.
Why didn't things ever go his way? He was financially well
off. He had been born to a pair of loving parents, though they
had been directionally challenged just like him. Every physical
and emotional need had been sated. So couldn't he be ever
happy? Why?
He almost didn't notice the sickly green glow coming from
his body. But he managed to reign himself once again. Things
could have gotten worse.
'Dammit, why have I never won decisively against the
bastard? What does he have that I don't?'
He shivered as he remembered the last time they
encountered each other. Things had not been pretty to begin with,
and they went downhill even further after a few hearty insults
to their honor, ancestry, and the possibility of conceiving
children.
And Ranma had responded with an increasing apathy, his
attention seemingly elsewhere. In all their fights, unless he
had an invincible new technique or something similar, the
pig-tailed boy would respond with an exaggerated nonchalance,
weaving in andout of his blows like an eel. But he'd always
leave a part of his attention on the fight, if only to throw a
few insults to the mix.
Not this time, though. Ranma began to respond a bit too
slowly, all the while mumbling inconsistent fallacies. And he
meant to capitalize on that, while the opportunity presented
itself. Jabs and knees slipped through more and more. Blows
that should have been easily evaded hit more often than not.
And his rival's answering attacks were surprisingly halfhearted.
Ryoga could barely restrain his glee. This time, the last laugh
would be his!
One blow; perfectly executed, carrying behind it all the
considerable power he had at his command. Ranma flew back at
incredible speed, crashing through a wall on an abandoned
construction site(thank god for small mercies). And he remembered
laughing hysterically, euphoric at his apparent victory.
His giggles died down, though, when his hated(?) rival
strode out of the hole with nary an injury. His clothes had
seen better days, but he was practically unharmed. A series of
slow, sure steps revealed total the absence of injuries
whatsoever.
*'No way...'* he remembered saying out loud.
Ranma had graced him with full attention now. And no, it
wasn't pretty, especially with his eyes glowing with an inner,
icy flame. The fact that he had no visible battle aura sought
to unnerve him even more.
*'You are beginning to lose your entertainment factor,
Hibiki-san. You are far more annoying than amusing nowadays.'*
He could not truly explain the turmoil he felt at hearing
those words. But he was sure that one unfamiliar emotion had
become dominant, overpowering everything else. In the end,
Ryoga could only howl out an inarticulate response.
*'Ranma, prepare to DIE!!'*
He clenched his eyes shut, determined to stave off the
memories. What had followed was a brutal fight-no, a fight was
not the way to describe it. It was a merciless beating, savage
and deliberate. Ranma had not spared an inch on his body,
covering him with bruises everywhere. And all the while, showing
no emotion whatsoever.
Oh, he tried to make a token resistance. He might not
have his rival's inhuman speed, but his strength was almost
unparalleled. With the Bakusai Tenketsu training, Ranma's slow,
measured hits should not have hurt like they did. Yet his best
efforts were all for naught. The Pigtailed boy plowed through
his best defenses like they weren't there. Every time an opening
was revealed, Ryoga was hit by a single, jackhammer blow. The
strength behind those attacks was mind-boggling. How could
Ranma have gained such power?
After what seemed like a lifetime, it finally ended. His
ordeal was over. He lay bleeding and broken on the cracked
pavement, desperate to lapse into the sweet embrace of
unconsciousness. His breath came in short, painful gasps. But
Ranma was not nearly finished, not quite so. As a brutal
culmination to the day, Ranma approached his battered body,
still revealing nothing in his features. The pig-tailed boy
knelt close, whispering to his ear...
*'I can end your pain, Hibiki-san,'* he had hummed
sibilantly in his ear. *'I can do easily, quickly. You would
not even notice the journey through the veil of death.
Would you desire such an existence as you live now?'*
In retrospect, Ryoga wouldn't have thought that as a bad
idea, especially in the midst of firing a Shi Shi Hokodan.
The whispering continued. *'...Alone, friendless, without
anything to call your own, plagued by unfathomable urges? To
wander in search of an intangible...thing, that you might never
find?
Ryoga stared back with glazed, not really comprehending
most of what was said. He tried to say something, anything. But
his throat was too dry, raw from all the hoarse screaming he
had done earlier, from his roars of rage to higher-pitched cries
of pain.
*'What have you been searching for, all these years,
fallen one? Whatever had possessed you to throw aside some of
the comforts of civilization, for the your own invisible need?
Are you tired of such an existence, of being the repository
of such despair? Tell me, Hibiki-san. Just say the word, and
I shall grant to you...freedom...'*
Such darkness...such coldness in those eyes. For how long
had such inhumanity lain hidden beneath the once innocent,
cerulean orbs? Had the darkness always been there, merely
hidden behind an iron curtain, or had spontaneously sprung
forth in conjunction with the aftershocks of being
disillusioned?
He had been tempted. So tempted, that he had considered
his offer, if only for a moment. What would he say to him? What
should he say?
*'No...no. Not..yet...'* He managed to croak out.
Imperceptibly, Ranma had nodded, much to his relief. He
idly noted that it was already dark.
*'Good. You still have your spirit.'* He had nodded once
again, this time more to himself than anything else. *'Then you
shall live. Live, to do as you wish. For now'*
He could do nothing but gurgle in reply. Ranma straightened,
an arm outstretched, pointing in his direction. For one
terrifying moment, he thought Ranma would launch a blast that
was sure to kill him in his weakened state. His eyes widened in
disbelief as a soft glow enveloped his body, coaxing his body to
heal itself. As Ryoga felt his injuries gradually repair itself,
he grew drowsier and drowsier, until he could no longer keep
his eyes open. Before he could lapse into slumber, he had heard
Ranma whisper once more :
*'I will not be so...lenient next time. Oyasumi...'*
The next time he woke up, it was already light outside.
Only a night had passed, and most of his bruises had started to
fade already. Gingerly, he felt around for his pack, and had
begun his decade-old practice of wandering aimlessly once
again. But the turmoil would leave him, the memories of the
previous night stuck deep inside his subconscious...
What had he felt in those few minutes of brutality? He
asked himself. What was the prevalent sense that had nearly
overpowered his sensibilities, freezing him in stasis, like he
had never faced another warrior in combat before? WHAT had he
felt?
.........
.........
Strange. Unfamiliar. Disturbing. Very much so.
.........
.........
Oh, yes. Now he knew. No matter how hard he felt about
denying it. He had no choice but to be honest, hard as it is to
be done.
.........
Fear. Pure, unadulterated Fear.
====*====*====
Ranma woke up restless and exhausted. He glanced at
the phosphorescent dials of his wall clock, the timepiece
telling him he had awakened 3 hours earlier that usual. He
probably wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, now that
he thought about. It was surprising. He was sure he had
dreamed, but he wasn't sure what the dream had been all
about. All he knew was that when Morpheus lost his tenuous
grip on him, he found himself holding the items he had
recieved last night.
He sat cross-legged upon his futon, clad only in his
boxers, cradling the swords like newborn babes. Ranma stared
out into the darkness, searching...for what? He himself did
not know. Perhaps it would come if he thought about it hard
enough.
His mother's voice echoed in his mind, gentle and
curious. Asking for an reply he did not know how to answer.
Or maybe, did not _want_ to answer?
Why had he carried these...artifacts...before? He could
not remember a time in which he had used a weapon at any given
length of time, despite his proficiency in them. Yet he must
have, but the memories eluded him.
He must have used the pair, one time or another. He
could not remember much, almost as if parts of his mind
was a blank slate, that had a section wiped clean. But his
finger caressed the weapons in a hauntingly familiar manner.
He drew one of the blades from its scabbard. It slid
out of its confinement with a soft hiss, grateful, he
supposed, of its freedom. Twisting his wrist slightly,
moonlight reflections shifting all across the room, Ranma
once again marveled at its beauty. Such beauty, such
perfection. Perfectly suited to cut the air with least bit
of resistance, or...
-cutting through flesh and bone like a hot knife
through butter, flashing blade spraying crimson droplets
all around in its wake, an elegant display of-
He staggered a bit at the mental picture. Where
the hell did it come from? He shook his head to clear
it, his eyes gradually drawing back to the hypnotic play
of reflections on the sword. _HIS_ sword...
-unstoppable, both by steel or sinew. Unhampered
by the physical constraints as dictated by the ignorant
fools that comprised most of the _Lambs_. How easily had
his weapons sliced through-
His fist slammed into his forehead with enough force
to send shockwaves, rattling the window frames of his
room. It would leave a nasty bruise, but Ranma felt it
was worth the effort. Besides, he knew from experience
that the bruise would disappear in a few minutes, an hour
at most. What was important was that it accomplished its
purpose.
Ranma stood up, staggering a bit as he did. Where
in he world had these images come from? It couldn't be
coincidence-he had enough experiences with the bizarre
that things like these never happened without a reason.
It just was a matter of finding out what. The reason might
even turn out as petty as a bread feud...
'Why?' Ranma wondered silently. 'What's happening to
me? Why can't I remember some things?'
It was back to square one. Why had he carried these
blades before? What purpose had these served in the past?
Why? Why?
-lack of a sharpened edge never deterred the weapon
from its purpose, destiny shaped by its wielder. Skill directed
its force, behind it, the will of one who knew no master.
Rebirth and Death, they were as-
He cried out in anger and frustration, his fist once
again connecting with a sorely abused cranium. This time, the
thin dermal layer between his knuckles and head split, and
blood seeped from the wound. There would be no hiding this one.
It would a couple of hours before the wound closed up.
Ranma gasped heavily, despite the lack of exertion. He
tottered towards the window, opened because of the heat. 'Why
must I be tormented so? What could I have ever done to deserve
this? Why?!?'
-Why?!? You ask why...Why...-
He opened his eyes painstakingly, as if afraid to see
the darkened sky. He glanced at his fist, resisting the urge
to slam it once again on his noggin. Answers will not come,
simply because he wanted to. It just wasn't that easy, he
supposed.
He sat back heavily on the futon, a hand over his coldly
wet fingers. Fingers, wet with...
-blood. Blood as red as the deepest crimson. Coating the
floor, the bodies, the walls, but never on the blade. Immaculate
as ever since the day it was forged. Blood could never touch
it, no matter how much it had spilled in the service of-
He could do nothing, nothing at all. All he could do
was pray for deliverance. And at the same time, he was sure
it would never come, not until all had been revealed.
Blood. He had never spilled blood before. At least,
not before Jusendo, and the Battle with a winged nemesis. But
he knew that he could never do that, not until that fateful
day, for as long as he could remember. Remember..
-nothing. There would be nothing, no memories to be left,
nothing to hold on. Nothing must be left, to protect the-
He could do nothing. Nothing.
At least, now, one of the questions had been answered.
Ranma now knew, with absolute certainty, why he 'carried' these..
he could find no word unflattering enough to describe the
weapons, these...unholy implements.
'The Saotome Family Sword is a weapon of honor, used as
the clan's insignia...and occasionally, as a weapon in duels of
honor, long ago...'
He breathed heavily, as he sought to push through the fog
clouding his mind.
'These...they've never carried any sort honor...' his eyes
glittered darkly. Darker than even the shadowy room. Darker, it
seemed, than the deepest purple shade. A sight that would have
startled all that knew him.
'Their only purpose...were as harbingers...of death...'
====*====*====
End chapter 2.
====*====*====
Damn, this stuff's been in hiatus for so long. I blame myself
(mostly), and other assorted idiots close to the branches of my
family tree. Finally finished the damn thing too. Chapter three's
mostly done, but I'm not making any promises. Learned that the hard
way. Sorry, but this part's too introspective, not enough gratuitous
violence for my taste.
Don't worry, things are about to heat up soon. And some nasty
revelations are about to be uncovered. Oh, this doesn't include
revealing the plots. Heh, expect Cameos galore!!