A/N (from when I first posted this story)sigh Read on, but beware: This is NOT one of my happier fics. Keep in mind, this is written with Kodachi's thoughts in mind, so things like "crazed obsession" turn into "loving thoughts", etc, etc, ad infinitum, ad nauseum...

Black Days
by Jai-kun

She watched the sea roll beneath her in slow motion, blurred at the bottom of her vision. Her long, black hair blew backward in the strong breeze, exposing her face despite her desire to hide within the safety of her locks, to do that which no one could see, or confirm, with visible evidence. Instead, she fought a battle with her soul, a battle she had won time and again before.

A battle that she was determined, even now, in her despair, to win at any cost.

Her head tilted back, but the accustomed laugh, the peals of joy that usually erupted from her lips, were replaced by barely muffled sobs. She would win this battle, too. She must.

Memory, cruel, cold memory, resolved to lose the battle before it began. She forced it down, but it came stronger. She screamed it away, yet it persisted. She lashed out angrily in her thoughts, and it met her ethereal attack in stoic, relentless persistence.

Finally, closing her eyes and allowing the tears brimming on the surface to flow over the lids, she mentally whimpered, 'no, please, don't make me remember it, don't make me acknowledge it, for just a while longer.

Her memory met the plea as it met the attacks, and, weakened, her mind unfolded the scene as it had played out scarce two days ago...

"NEVER!"

The ribbon lashed out expertly at the short-haired girl, who, for once, was panicked and off balance.

"YOU WILL NEVER CLAIM MY RANMA FROM ME! YOU, WITCH, SHALL DIE AT MY HAND!"

She remembered never having felt such fury, that this... this... uncultured loudmouthed WENCH would dare to publicly announce her engagement to Ranma Saotome. Her rage spurred her actions, and her ribbon had already slashed the unclean woman's dress multiple times. She was pleased to see tinges of red within some of those slash marks.

Akane dodged and weaved, eyes wide, not able to determine which direction to jump, to move, because the ribbon was everywhere. Her prey cornered, she began the slow, methodical act of the kill.

The ribbon arced high, and her quarry ducked, as she was expected to. Akane's widened eyes as she slammed backward with the tip of the floating weapon around her ankle brought forth a chorus of raucousness from her foe.

Kodachi stepped forward, knowing Akane could not stand, her razor sharp hoop gleaming in her hand, the instrument chosen to win Ranma from this... this... harridan!

She was six feet away, walking slowly, relishing the terror in Akane's usually over-confident eyes, five feet, murmuring words in low, deep, throaty tones that only her alto voice could manage as Akane struggled to loosen the ribbons grip, four, and now raising the hoop, too far away to strike cleanly, but wanting Akane to KNOW, to REALIZE what her fate and far-too short future held, three, and...

...halted by the long shape in the sunlight, the tenor voice quietly commanding, not pompously ordering at was it's wont.

"Halt, sister, or you shall face my wrath."

Kodachi glared at her brother, the tip of his ever-present sword extended toward her in a manner usually reserved for enemies, opponents... even her beloved Ranma.

The anger at his continued mistreatment of HER Ranma, HER love, HER intended fueled her resolve.

"Out of my way, 'brother dear'."

The voice, as richly trained as his, was a growling, animal contrast to

his calm command. Her eyes did not waver, even as he stepped forward within striking distance.

So. It was battle he wanted. Very well... on my terms.

Kodachi lowered her hoop, dropping it to the ground, and allowed her lip to quiver. "T-Tachi... you... you don't understand..."

She saw the fire leave his eyes, too readily, too easily, and nearly lost her resolve.

"I do, sister... Dachi, I truly do, for Akane has chosen another as well. But to attack her... it would not win your love for you, Dachi-chan...

His silken voice nearly soothed the anger in her breast, and she had to replay his mistreatment of Ranma, his choice of the unworthy "pig-tailed" one, and of the hated Akane Tendo. The thought of his choice of the latter was all that was needed to fuel her fire at him again, nearly overwhelming her feigned tears. She waited as he closed the distance, dropped his sword, and moved to embrace her. Her web trembled, and the spider reacted.

He hand flew up into his chin even as her other palm rocketed into the middle of his chest, beneath his ribs, driving air from his lungs unexpectedly. To aid the torment that would distract him, she had waited until he began to inhale and forced the air going in back out.

Let no one believe Kodachi Kuno had no training in the martial arts. The focus of Martial Gymnastics was an equal focus, a true sum of both of it's parts.

Tatewaki Kuno fell hard, his head ringing, his lungs gasping for air, his eyes closed to all but that one need... he would live, but he would not move in time to save the hated witch.

But he had given Akane the time she needed. She was standing now, her body coiled in a defensive stance, her face a mask of anger and defiance. She favored her left leg, the leg that was wrapped in the ribbon, which even now had a circle of blood around it. Her hands shook, bloody fingers trembling with the stress and pain of being sliced while picking off the ribbon. She stood, she would fight, but she would fall. And everyone knew it.

None, by the look in her eyes, more than Akane Tendo herself.

Kodachi smiled, then chuckled, then laughed her insane laugh, causing the others to wince around her, and lighting the terror that Akane was fighting. She brought her razor hoop up, kicked a few times, mere feints to position her rival for the killing blow. When the opportunity showed itself, she struck down. Akane screamed. Kodachi closed her eyes and laughed...

Until her arm stopped, short of the goal. Her eyes flew open, and before her was her dream, her goal, holding her arm, his slate-gray eyes filled with...

ANGER

The look shocked her, barely bridled fury burning beneath his beauteous eyes, his muscles trembling, not with the effort of holding her, for she relaxed as she realized his face, but with the strain of holding back...

Holding back against her.

His body was coiled, efficient, beautiful in its muscled grace, his right arm holding hers, his left back to protect Akane...

Protect Akane... he had stopped her... he was angry... he was protecting her enemy...

Kodachi's heart stopped even as she spoke his name, her own confusion curling the word up into a question.

"Ranma-sama?"

Ranma's eyes didn't soften to her, didn't look resigned, or happy, or smile, or any of the things she desired, cried out in her mind for him to do. The fury blazed brighter for a brief second, and he threw her hand away in disgust.

His quiet, trembling voice struck her harder than any fist could.

"Don't call me that." He looked her in the eyes, unrelenting, refusing to let her go, as he continued. "Don't you dare call me that after what you were gonna do!"

Kodachi found her voice, but it could no longer be as strong as it was.

"Ran... but... I love you... and you me, I know it! You saved me, you were kind to me, you..."

"I hate you. And I don't ever wanna see you again." He let her go then, picked Akane up, and walked her curled form away from the scene of battle. Kodachi could not stop him, could not call to him.

His words had shattered her heart.

She didn't see her brother rise. Didn't hear him speak in the same soft voice, apologizing, soothing. She didn't feel him finally pick her up, or walk her home. The next morning, when anything resembling coherent thought returned to her, she was in her bed, staring at her wall. The poster of Ranma had been taken down, or torn down. Just as he had torn himself from her life, leaving only the raw, pulsing wound that had become her heart.

Now, two days after, tears flowed freely down the noble face. She did not reach up to wipe them away, she did not try any longer to muffle the sobs, she let them come, lost herself in them. But she stood, tall and proud, sobbing and broken, a contrast in life. She stared out from the rim, down the cliff, down to the raging sea. There. There was the only place left for her.

She stared down. It would be so easy. It would end so much hurt, so much pain.

"Goodbye, Tachi, Oyaji. Goodbye, Ranma-sama."

Her foot left the safety of the ground, swung out into empty space.

She was surprised. She thought there would be fear.

Then she pitched forward. And there was TERROR.

"KODACHI!!"

She teetered now, caught by the arm in a strong grip. Her mouth refused to scream as she stared down at her dangling feet, and below, the rocks and foam of the ocean.

She was lifted. Saved. She turned to see the face of her rescuer.

Kami... no... not HIM.

Slate gray eyes locked onto hers again. This time there was no fury. There was only concern.

It hurt worse, now that he had rejected her, than the fury did before.

"Go, Ranma. Leave me."

"Not until you tell me what in the hell you think your doin'!"

She turned away, not to hide her tears, but to keep her eyes off of the face she still loved, the face she still wanted

The face that no longer wanted her.

Or, she realized to her hearts further torture, never did.

"I am fulfilling your request. You will never see me again."

She tried to pull away, but his gentle grip held her more fast than iron ever would have.

"I didn't MEAN it, Kodachi. I was angry, yeah, but I didn't want you to die."

She turned as far away as she could. "You hate me."

"No. I just don't love you. I was pissed, yeah, but I don't hate you."

Her eyes closed, her head bowed. She whispered, knowing how he'd react. "I love you."

He opened his mouth, then closed it, looking away from her. His reluctance, his saddened eyes, told her everything she needed to know, even after he softly, caringly intoned, "Lemme take ya home, Kodachi... Ya just need to sleep a little... It'll be OK tomorrow..."

She smiled sadly, head down, and whispered, just so he could hear, "No, Ranma. No it won't."

He stopped, looked at her, and gave her the smile, that smile that set her heart to pounding even now.

She knew what to do. One last trap, and it would be over.

"Thank you, Ranma, I can find my own way." She smiled up at him, the gentleness on her face belying the redness in her eyes. Dropping her ribbon from the sleeve of her dress, she pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek, took a step back...

And pushed herself off the ledge, just out of his reaching hands.

"NOOOOOOO!!!!"

Ranma reached, then flung her dropped ribbon down, faster, faster, almost reaching her... she felt the fleeting desire to reach, to accept salvation, if only to erase the stinging tears from his eyes... but no... the ribbon snapped at the end of it's length, and fell limp, just barely touching her arm with it's feather-soft tip... and another scream followed Kodachi's falling form.

She was silent on the way down. The laughter had ended long ago, and was inappropriate now. Then, as the water enveloped her, and the shock brought it's blessed black, she was silent forevermore.

The casket was lowered, the black rose bouquet resting atop it. Kuno watched, stonily silent. He didn't know how... but he would survive. Nabiki had selflessly offered her assistance with the finances, as father was... no longer able. Kasumi-San had brought many a meal already. The only thing he had left to do was mourn, and that he had, in abundance.

The downpouring storm was only appropriate.

The rain did nothing to hide the tearful eyes watching him, but he could only tear his eyes away from his too young sister's grave to stare at

the form that he knew he should hate, no matter that the shape the person was in had been his obsession until recently. But how could he? He had tried, Kuno knew. He had tried his best.

Near the site, Akane held the red-headed girl, comforting her, ignoring her own tears and whispering words meant to soothe.

The only answer she received was Ranma Saotome's wracking sobs.