Nihil Credo

Author: Personification of Fluff

Title: Nihil Credo (For those who don't read Latin, the title means 'I believe nothing'; for those who do read Latin, I apologize for my poor grammar!)

Rating: R, or Mature, because of violence, swearing, and other mature content.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They all belong to their rightful creators, among them CLAMP and Rumiko Takahasi. However, the plot and all character who are not affiliated with animes, they belong to me. This has no basis on any worlds at all, merely on the characters with which I am choosing to play God.

Summary: Miroku finds himself becoming linked psychically to the victims of serial killer of possible demonic origins. With each vision he has of another murder, it becomes harder and harder for him to recuperate and deal with the pain. Unless they can find the killer before the government-denied murder kills again, Miroku will surely die. But what happens when his newest partner, Sango, turns out to be either the next target… or the killer?

Relationships: Primarily Miroku/Sango, but there's also some hints of Akane/Ranma, Inuyasha/Kagome, Fuu/Ferio, and whatever other couples I throw in here…

Author's Notes: Fan fiction is my chance to explore different genres. Not that I'm bored of fluff, just that I had a really good idea, and I thought that I would like to try to write a horror/mystery fic. Of course, given that I have never tried doing anything like this before, it's probably more like gross/icky/suspense fic. Which means that there will be lots of cliffhangers.

Eve, thank you. I think that something you said while I was once eavesdropping in on a conversation between you and Aamalie somehow helped to turn this into what it will become, so here's to your immortality. (grins)

And, up until I'm done my exams, I will be stressed from not finding a job for the summer, and I will be stressed from studying, and my hands will be ready to fall of from having to write exams… so, posting will be slow going. I just wanted to see how this is received.

Here's to experimentation! (Cheers!)

Chapter One: The Perverts

"Perverts!"

"Lechers!"

"Damn it!" Ranma swore, dodging another hair dryer thrown at him. He swore he smelled the singed hair of his pigtail. "How'd they find out about us sneaking in this time?"

"Who knows!" Miroku laughed, running along side his friend down the halls of the girl's dormitory. He laughed wildly, as if it didn't seem to matter that girls were throwing objects of various densities and sharpness at them—they had dodged everything from textbooks to hair dryers to socks.

They rounded a corner, the open window from which they had snuck through right ahead of them. Miroku sped up, planning on reaching it first. "Age before beauty, Ranma!" he laughed wildly, racing ahead and managing to climb through the window in one fluid movement.

Ranma Saotome, on the other hand, was seriously debating running through the wall. He dodged a science textbook, and it hit Miroku square in the head. Ranma snickered, climbing through the window just as easily as his best friend had. He heard a crash when Miroku landed on the ground, in a daze from the sudden blow to the head.

Landing easily on his feet and barely crushing the grass under his feet, Ranma grabbed Miroku's collar and hoisted him off the ground as easily as if he were made of paper. Miroku roused a bit, his blue eyes still a little clouded over. "Come on, you idiot!"

Miroku followed, and they managed to escape off campus without having every single girl in the dorm room on their feet brandishing pitchforks and shovels. Breathing heavily, they stopped at the corner of an empty intersection. The two boys looked very similar, but their personalities were sharply contrasting. Miroku was often smiling, and was the more social of the two. He also had more brains, which Ranma would only occasionally grudgingly admit. Miroku loved his women, and Ranma only had eyes for martial arts and becoming stronger. It had been, of course, Miroku's idea to stop studying for their mid term and to break into the girls' dorm room.

Ranma shook his head, trying to clear it, and he laughed a little, clapping his friend so hard on the back Miroku thought that his shoulder bone was broken. "It was great seeing you run like that!" he laughed heartily, starting to walk down the street. His hands in his pockets, his broad shoulders braced and his chin held high, he looked proud. Miroku was glad to see his friend was in a good mood and not busy tearing out his dark hair over the modern Germany mid term they had at the end of the week. "Brought back a lot of memories, Miroku. But it was a little fruitless expedition, don't you think?"

"Hardly," Miroku snorted. He reached into this jacket and pulled out a pair of lacy black underwear. He held it up triumphantly for Ranma to see, and the younger boy thought he was going to gag. "I managed to get these. I always did say I was going to get into Eve's underwear, no matter how much she resisted my charms. I wonder what she'll give me to give them back to her."

He arched an eyebrow and looked at Miroku suspiciously. Sometimes Miroku was a little too devious, even for his friend's tolerance. "Entrapment, Miroku? Don't you have a shred of decency?"

"Of course I do. She lets me warm her bed, and will actually give them back to her as opposed to running them up the flag pole."

They returned to the male's dorm room on the other side of campus, easily sneaking inside. Miroku was still laughing triumphantly about the wonderful steal he had made, and Ranma was patiently suffering through his friend's boasting. Eventually, before he pushed Ranma's buttons too much, Miroku silenced himself and picked up his homework.

Ranma didn't know how he did it. Miroku had an ability to be both the funnest person he had ever met, and the most serious. One moment, he would be laughing, and then he would reach over and put on his glasses and become the perfect student.

He stripped off his shirt, throwing it into the laundry hamper overflowing with clothes. Ranma wrinkled his nose. He knew he had to do his laundry soon, but he couldn't find time. He had a test tomorrow, and he should have studied, but he didn't feel like it. He was too tired. Besides, he never studied, unless Miroku made him. He didn't have the ability to simply put on glasses and then pick up a textbook and read it from beginning to end in one sitting like Miroku did.

The pants he was wearing were thrown in as well. Down in his boxers, Ranma threw back the covers of the top bunk before pulling himself up. He pulled the covers up over his head and closed his eyes.

By the time Miroku was done the book and turning off the light, Ranma was fast asleep. He yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. The textbook went on the nightstand and he looked at the clock, pulling off his glasses. It was four am.

'No wonder I'm tired…' He clicked off the light and reclined in bed, trying to go to sleep. But his eyes wouldn't close. He was lost in a feeling of dread, and he could not find his way back to reality.

It struck him hard. His body turned cold. He began to shiver. His teeth rattled in his head. His muscles tightened and he gasped for breath. His eyes stared up at the bunk over his, blind to it all. Pain lanced down his chest, from his neck straight down to his navel. It burned. It burned worst than anything he had ever felt before. His mouth opened up to scream, and he screamed until his vocal cords cracked and seized, yet no sound came out. Nausea swam around his head. Tears came to his blind eyes. They rolled over his burning cheeks, and still his mouth was open, a look of utmost horror and pain. His knuckles cracked as he tried to reach out for the bed he knew was above him, but chains seemed to bind him, holding him down.

He was going to go insane.

He was going to die.

And then it was gone, leaving behind the pain. Dots of dizziness danced behind his eyes. He coughed up blood, and wiped his mouth, finding more of the red liquid at the corner of his mouth. His whole body was sore, but the stomach felt the worst. He leaned back his head, closing his eyes. His hand covered his stomach, and he breathed deeply. His throat was still hoarse from screaming. The nausea wouldn't go away.

Bolting from the bed, he ran to the washroom as fast as his legs could carry him. He was ill, but quiet. It wasn't the first time Miroku had needed to hide the fact that he was physically affected by the moments of Dread he had. The only one who knew about it was Ranma.

Ranma didn't wake up. He didn't hear Miroku.

The older boy snuck back into the bedroom, moving weakly. His muscles still hadn't quite relaxed, and the episode in the washroom hadn't helped him to feel any better. He pulled out a forty of vodka from under his bed and then slunk back into the washroom. He turned the light on after he shut the door, cursing when the brightness of the blue and white washroom momentarily blinded him again, reminding him of the blinding white lights he had seen as he felt the pain run down his torso.

Opening it up hurriedly, he drank back a shot, nearly vomiting again. But the burning sensation helped to clear his head and wake him back up. Miroku felt he had to be a masochist. Only a masochist would ever think of burning his esophagus and insulting his stomach to make him feel better.

The nausea began to pass as memories of the pain began to fade. The forty shook in Miroku's hand, and he was forced to put it down on the tiled floor. His whole body still shivered a little. Miroku tried his best to control it, but in the end, he took another shot. His body recovered a little bit more.

He considered reporting it. The phone was laying in a secret compartment in the bed. He could phone up the department, let them know what had happened, and Ranma would be none the wiser.

But it hadn't been normal. It wasn't important. It was just a fluke. He had had seen erroneous things before. It wasn't important.

He thought it so often he began to believe it, but he never left the floor of the washroom. The world felt safer in the washroom. The white walls and the blue tiles were plain, and simple. The washroom was fairly clean, for being the washroom of two male university students. It was the only normal thing in his life. Nothing was wrong in the washroom. The world was normal in that washroom. It was easy to make himself believe that he had crawled back after some frat party and had vomited from acute alcohol poisoning, and that he was too drunk to stop drinking, hence the vodka in his hand.

God, all Miroku knew was that he didn't want to go back to bed.

When Ranma woke up in the morning, he found Miroku coming out of the shower, smiling and toweling off his dark hair.

"Morning," Miroku grinned, snapping his towel at the back of Ranma's head and earning a growl from his friend. "Ready for breakfast and then that wonderful modern Germany mid term today? Actually, it's in an hour and a half, so you better hurry."

It was so wonderfully normal, and Ranma was so incredibly sleepy that he completely missed the fact that the washroom was sparklingly clean. Unable to stay awake, Miroku had cleaned the washroom from top to bottom, and then jumped in the shower himself.

Even three hours later, Miroku still shuddered when he saw the bed and remembered the way he had felt chained down, and the pain that had ripped him apart…

'Weimar republic, Weimar republic,' Miroku chanted, trying to remember what he had read last night. He tapped his pencil against his lips, staring off into space. Ranma was a little suspicious. Miroku was almost always focused on one thing or another. When he got that far away look, however, when Miroku was focused on something that seemed far away, that's when Ranma always worried. He was beginning to feel like something was going on.

Someone near them coughed. Both boys turned around to see Eve sitting behind them, glaring at them both. Her eyes darted between the two of them, before deciding that it had to be Miroku. She leaned over the desk. "I want it back," she hissed.

Miroku laughed. The sound was so care-free that for a moment Ranma wondered if maybe he had been mistaken. Maybe nothing was wrong with Miroku.

"You want what back, my darling Eve?"

"You know what, you stupid pervert."

His jaw opened in mock hurt, and Ranma had to try not to laugh. "Oh, Eve. If you can't say it, then how am I going to know what you want back? Maybe I have many things that belong to you. And to hear you call me such names! It makes my heart ache."

She rolled her eyes, and glanced up at the front of the class. The professor was shifting a mountain of papers in his arms. Their tests were pages long. All of them felt nervous. "Never mind," Eve mumbled, leaning back in her seat and beginning to play with her long hair.

Miroku smirked, and was about to turn away, when something around Eve's neck caught his eye. He craned his neck up to see over the desks on the level above him. Dangling around her neck was a black rope, and from it hung a chunk of a light pink rock. His eyes slid up, and he found her staring at her, looking flustered, as if she didn't know to smack him for looking at her breasts—it wasn't his fault that's where the rock hung—or if she was starting to fall for the smug attitude he had caught from Ranma.

"What?" she snapped.

"Oh," Miroku purred, "I was just thinking. You see, it's a very pretty necklace you have there. It sets off your dark hair wonderfully, and brings out the color of your cheeks. But I wonder… do you know what it stands for?"

With his back turned, Ranma rolled his eyes. He'd heard this pick up lines how many times? Didn't Miroku have anything new? Ranma knew he was smart enough to make up another pick up line, and it wasn't like this one worked, anyway.

"It's just a piece of rose quartz," she stammered, as if wondering why a rock could mean anything.

"Not just any rock," Miroku continued, his voice deepening and softening, rolling off of the tip of his tongue. "It's rose quartz. It's the rock of love. Quartz rocks are great for holding mental energy and power. Rose quartz, in particular, is great for holding energy and power regarding love. Sexual power, simple longing, the feeling of being needed…"

Eve rolled her eyes. She should have known that any conversation she started up with Miroku would eventually involve sex in some way. Still, she arched an eyebrow. "How do you know about stuff like that?"

Miroku simply stared back at her, the quiet expression in his grey-blue eyes making her feel a little nervous. She hurriedly continued. "You sound like my cousin, actually. She's the one who gave me the necklace." Even fingered the rock, playing with it, her eyes watching the tests being passed along by students in front of her.

"You seem to speak with her with some longing. Was she close to her? Do you miss her or something. Does she live far away?"

If it wasn't for the sincerity in his voice, she never would have answered him. She nodded, taking a test and passing them along. "She's like a sister to me… we even look like sisters. Now, if you don't mind, I have a mid-term to fail."

Miroku took the test as it circled his row, passing it one to Ranma, who was cursing under his breath in every single language he knew. The blue-eyed boy smiled a little. At least he wasn't the only one feeling nervous about the test.

Tapping his pen lid against his lips, he carefully began reading over the questions. His calculating mind went back to trying to remember what he could about the Weimar republic. He was concentrating so hard that he the words on the page began to blur. 'Weimar… Weimar…. Wei… wine!' His eyes snapped open and he stared at the crisp, white pages. 'I could smell wine, and blood. There was so much blood…'

He tried to pull himself out of the well of power he had accidentally fallen into. He clenched the desk, trying to steady himself, and remain in this world. His head began to swim, the world getting lighter and lighter, blindingly intense, and painfully so. His eyes burned inside his skull, and his furiously beating heart felt like it was lodged in his throat. He gasped for breathe, telling himself to remain calm. He was able to hear Eve starting to scream as the world spun and he slipped form his chair, landing in a tangle of limbs and torso on the floor. He heard Ranma call out in surprise and try to catch him, but not even he was fast enough.

Miroku didn't feel it when he hit the floor. There was no floor. He was lost in the white light. All he could smell was blood and wine. Pain tore through his body, so intense the white-world began to become littered with dancing black spots. He leaned back his head to scream, but his throat was already raw from crying and begging. His cheeks were soaked with tears. Miroku was sure he was going to die again.

"Miroku! Miroku!" Ranma was panicked when his voice had no effect on Miroku. He glanced up, seeing the teacher trying to regain control of the class and worm his way through the people in the row to get to Miroku. He couldn't let that happen. If they did, they'd want to take Miroku to the hospital. Ranma cursed wildly, pulling out his cell-phone and hitting only two numbers. He slipped it back in his pocket before he once again reached out to try and hold Miroku back.

He was always panicked when things like this happened, but this one he knew, had to be especially painful. They had never lasted this long. He knew that he had lost time making that phone call, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't let Miroku be taken to the hospital, where they would be separated and the paramedics would stick needles in him and stuff his body with chemicals… they wouldn't help him. They weren't what he needed.

For a moment when he saw Miroku, he doubted himself. How long would it take them to come and get them? How long would it take for Miroku to snap out of it? "Miroku!" he cried again when he saw that his friend was having a seizure.

People three rows below them, their views hidden by the desks, heard his cry and had shivers run down their spine.

Finally, his shaking body stilled. The professor had finally made it to their spot, and was staring at Miroku's still body wide-eyed. Even Ranma panicked for a moment, watching the blood run from between his friend's chapped lips. Miroku was as pale as stone, and just as cold. Ranma clutched his hand, and then sprung into action. He wasn't thinking about what he was doing. Ranma wasn't the kind of guy to think. That was Miroku's job.

He ripped open Miroku's black dress shirt. Buttons scattered on the ground. His hands felt like fire against his cold skin as they pressed over his chest, beginning to pump up and down over Miroku's heart. "You bastard! You fucking bastard!" he cried, starting to administer CPR, his wide eyes locked on Miroku's pale face. "You're not allowed to do this to me! Don't even think about it, you bastard!" He stopped to actually look square on to Miroku, yelling: "You get back here this moment, you pervert! You get the fuck back here!"

"Young… young man…" the professor chided, stuttering. "Young man, don't use that kind of language…"

"I'll go call the paramedics," Ranma heard Eve say. Finally, someone had the good enough sense to use the phone! The girl behind her passed her a cell phone, so that she wouldn't need to leave.

"Get back here, Miroku!"

"Mr. Saotome, refrain yourself from…"

He didn't understand. That was how he needed to call Miroku back to him. Miroku was lost. He needed to call Miroku back to him, to keep him from passing away, to get him back to where he belonged. It wasn't helping. Miroku's lips were tinged with blue. He wasn't breathing either.

Ranma began to breathe for him. He continued to keep his heart beating for him. He was going to be damned if his best friend and partner was going to pass away while he was right there.

To be Continued…