Chapter 6
It was well into night, about the time when daytime people settled in their beds and nighttime people came out of theirs. As for Ranma, he did neither. The thick blackness enveloping him in its protective blanket, he soared into the sky. He closed his eyes as he was suspended in the air, floating for a millisecond, feeling weightless and free.
It was the same hazy sensation that he had felt when he buried his nose into Akane's hair at her nape, underneath the streetlamp sometime ago. Had it been the same with Ukyo? The first memory he had lost of her was her voice. Months after, he had forgotten her scent and, after that, her touch. Only a vision remained in his memories, like age-old, weathered out, snapshots.
He descended his way back down from gravity's selfish pull and nimbly landed on the tiled roof of his home.
The thick silence was jarred by a car entering the gates of the Saotome property. Cruising easily on the gravel driveway to the front of the house, Ranma watched from the roof as it slowed to a stop. Servants streamed out of the house, lining up from the car to the front door. He continued to watch through half-lidded eyes from his position up above as Genma heaved himself out of the automobile followed by a dramatically slow and graceful exit of Xian Pu.
He sneered and looked away, losing interest. Had he watched longer he would've noticed Genma climb back into the car, driving off, and leaving his mistress at the Saotome home for the night.
…
Akane thought she had been alone in the backseat. However, the pungent smoke of a cigar seared her nose, signaling another presence. A large figure sat hidden in the shadows with only a thin stream of streetlight filtering in through the car window, silhouetting his bulky profile. He shifted slightly turning his face towards her, and she instantly recognized the blue eyes.
It was an older, fatter, bald version of Ranma.
She would've laughed if it wasn't for the glaring fact that this ginormous man was the shateigashira of the Yakuza. He could have her head with a lift of his finger. And that was no laughing matter.
Those beady eyes glued to her, she sat petrified and put all the distance possible between them. She imagined, just like in those movies, the female lead would start whimpering and blubbering, crocodile tears dripping down her face, and she would beg to be set free, claiming whatever innocence in the matter at hand. But Akane was not a female lead in some cheesy gangster movie.
"Uh…" She said smartly.
Genma chose that moment to look away, preferring to see the passing scenery from within the car. He showed no intention of saying anything to her but merely puffed his cigar. Granted, she was terrified; however, she did not feel any danger emitting from the suavely tuxedoed old man next to her.
The car cruised down the high-end street of Ginza, an area that never slept and was always bustling with people of wealth and riches. Elite bars, café's, and shops lined up both sides of the two way street. This was the place of European brand names and five star hotels. Despite her predicament, Akane felt a rush of excitement tingle her nerves as she hungrily stared out the window taking in the bright lights and sparkling store windows exhibiting items she couldn't even dream of owning.
They stopped in front of a particularly grand and ornate boutique with its salespersons already on the sidewalk waiting for the arrival of Genma's ride.
Akane followed him out nervously and still clueless as to what she was 'kidnapped' for.
Inside the gold and white Victorian themed boutique, a group of women in pink smocks engulfed her and dragged her into a large fitting room, bigger than her own bedroom back at home. They began to undress her, prodding at her hair, her skin, her waist and her legs. She felt obtrusively violated, and she pushed their hands away quite rudely.
But they were strong, vicious and willful, and somehow had managed to wrap her in a body-hugging, strapless, pink satin gown that had her feeling like a stuffed sausage. A glance at the full-body mirror confirmed her suspicions. Ignoring her protests, they pushed her out to the lounge area of the store where Genma sat like a king in the ornate Victorian sofa. She clasped her hands in front of her timidly. He shook his head once, and she was dragged back into the fitting room by ten pairs of hands.
After being tossed back and forth ten times wearing ten different outfits and playing model for him, in her latest dress standing in front of Genma once more, she stomped her delicate heels and refused to budge.
"WHAT is going on here?" She cried, looking defiantly at the most dangerous man on this side of Tokyo.
He said nothing but instead, his eyes lingered down her form, glazing over with emotion she didn't want to identify. She shifted uncomfortably in the black and silver cocktail dress, embellished with faux diamond studs and wispy silver patterns curving down its length. Her hair was pinned up by a single white rose and strings of pearls hanging down from the flower, brushing against her cheek. An inch-wide band of diamonds encircled her slim neck, cold against her skin. And open-toed high heels, with thin black straps around her ankles, adorned her feet. She stomped her dainty shoe again.
"This is great and all, but I don't always get kidnapped and pampered on a regular basis. So would somebody please throw me a bone here and tell me what is going on?" She snapped and flashed livid brown eyes in Genma's direction.
Genma nodded, "This will do." He stood up and walked out of the store.
Akane cried out in outrage at the blatant negligence of her extremely upset state. But she was promptly led out after Genma and back into the car with him. Once in the vehicle again, she turned to the uncooperative man with clenched fists.
"I don't care who you think you are, but if you don't tell me what is going on this instant, I'm going to raise hell!"
She was sure her life expectancy was cut to her delicate age of 21 when his eyes narrowed at her. Anticipating a swipe from a sword or a shot from a gun, she closed her eyes, waiting for the final blow. Several minutes passed, and sweat perspired on the surface of her forehead.
Finally, he delivered, not a sword or a gun, but an answer, "We're having dinner."
Back at the Saotome estate, Ranma jumped from his spot on the roof and strolled into the house through the front door. His mother absolutely hated it when he jumped in through the windows like a thief. Upon entering, his eyebrows furrowed at the lack of activity in the household. Usually with the arrival of his father, the servants would be running amuck from room to room to serve that fat-man's every needs. But tonight, everything was at a standstill…and it made him extremely wary.
He opened his mouth to call out for his mother but stopped remembering Xian Pu's presence lurking somewhere within these rooms. It wasn't often, but sometimes Genma brought his mistress to the house for one reason or another, mostly his own sick pleasure, but when he did, Nodoka locked herself away in her private room, refusing to step out until his mistress was out of the house.
A few months ago, the situation got out of hand where Genma let his mistress stay for more than the usual one-nighter. She stayed for three days causing Nodoka to remain in her room for three days with no food. On the third day, Ranma broke the door down and took her to a hospital. He came back the next day and blew up at his father which led to a physical fight.
And as per usual, Genma won the upper hand only by a sneak attack that he kept up his sleeves for moments precisely like this one. The risk, however, was that Genma wouldn't be able to perform the move again because, being the prodigal martial artist, Ranma had the gifted ability to learn and adapt moves with one demonstration.
An apology to his wife was never issued, but he had never brought Xian Pu back to the house, until now.
Ranma was, to say the least, upset.
"Oyaji!" He called out, echoing down the downs. "Goddamn filthy old fart," he added under his breath.
After scouting the entire first floor, he rushed upstairs in search of his father. He nearly crashed into the womanly figure standing at the top of the stairs in all her glory, a silky red robe wrapped snugly around her.
"He's not here," she said plainly. She leaned against the wooden railing, swiping her luscious locks behind her shoulder.
"I can see that," he bit out and passed her to enter his bedroom.
"Ranma!" She called after him.
Against his will, he stopped and turned to face her. He regarded her mutely.
She smiled and sauntered slowly around him, brushing her curves against his tense muscled form. "It's rare that Genma leaves me alone in your presence. He knows I'm quite…fond of you," she whispered close to his ear and let her fingers slide across his shoulders and down his arm. "Why don't we make the best of this, hm?" Her lips briefly slid over his barely making contact. But it was more than he could stand.
He pushed her away roughly, knowing a little force would not harm the one-time martial artist from China. She crashed against the wall and scowled at him, marring her pretty face.
"Don't touch me ever," he bit out with a grimace. He spun around and proceeded to walk away.
"I know where that stupid old man is," she pulled out her trump card.
Indeed, he stopped in his tracks. "Where?"
"A kiss," she demanded. "Just one kiss, and I'll tell you."
"You make me sick."
But she only smiled again, knowing he would fulfill her request to get her answer, "That doesn't matter."
She only saw the electric blue of his eyes before he crashed his lips against hers in a bruising kiss that made her knees weak. She fell against the wall once more, clutching the front of his shirt desperately. A weak moan escaped her throat from the pain, from the pleasure, from the desire consuming her overwhelmingly. And just as brutally as he kissed her, he ripped himself away from her in the same fashion, wiping his mouth roughly with the back of his hand. Her laborious breathing could be heard in the space between them. Large violet eyes peered at him with an emotion akin to hope.
"Where is he?"
Disappointed, she looked away, biting her bottom lip in frustration. "He went out to dinner… with another woman."
"With who?" he asked perplexed. Did Genma pick up another mistress?
At this, Xian Pu shrugged indifferently. "I didn't get a good look at her since it was only a picture. But it was some plump brat with short blue hair, and I think brown eyes. She was rather plain if you ask me, but I'm not complaining."
His head ducked in thought, his bangs shading his eyes. Only one person came to mind. "Where is he taking her?" Ranma demanded in a low voice she had never heard from him before.
She blinked. "Do you know her?"
"If I have to ask you again, I'm going to force it out of you," he threatened. He was never known for being a patient person, least of all with his father's mistress.
She assessed him through unfazed, half-lidded eyes, and turned away impassively, "I don't know where."
She hadn't thought it was humanly possible to have the speed that Ranma accomplished. In a blink of an eye, he had his hand wrapped tightly around her throat and up against the wall so that only the tip of her toes touched the wooden floor. Her own hands automatically came up to wrap around his wrist.
"Tell me where he took her or I swear you'll never see your beloved China ever again," he growled out. She watched in horror as his beautiful blue eyes darkened to black with the promise of death. For the first time since her captivity in Japan, she felt fear course into her rapidly pumping heart.
Ranma was never the one to harm a woman, she knew. Everybody knew. However, to what degree was he willing to bend his own rules? And for who was he willing to sacrifice it all? She began to see spots growing around the edge of her vision. "Probably at his regular restaurant," she choked out, "in Ginza. It's called Beige."
He let go abruptly, and she collapsed to the floor at his feet, gasping for breath. She could only sit and stare at his shiny black shoes as he calmly walked away and out of the house.
Beige was a costly, fancy French restaurant located in the Chanel building in Ginza. Its classic French theme with a modern flair and its four star French chef attracted all the elite from around the area, and often, customers bought little 'souvenirs' in Chanel on their way in and out of the restaurant.
Grand sparkling chandeliers crafted from genuine crystals and gold frameworks loomed over the dining patrons. Silverware and porcelain plates clinked among the murmur of conversations. A live orchestra played jazz and classical music in the center of the carpeted floor, and a moat of wood floor encircled the musicians for the patrons to waltz around the music.
Akane's mouth hit the floor, her eyes greedily taking in the posh setting. She looked across the table over the candelabrum at Genma. "I still don't understand. Why am I here?" She paused in thought, "Is this about your son, Ranma?"
Genma sipped his wine and leaned back comfortably in his cushion chair. "Incidentally, this has nothing to do with Ranma," he said, "but more with you." He took another sip. "You look ravishing tonight, Akane." He smirked briefly
Her eyes widened in alarm, "Me?" Disregarding his compliment, she asked earnestly, "Why me? What do you want from me?"
He simpered a smile so sinfully enigmatic she found it difficult to maintain eye contact. "Absolutely nothing," he said, "just you."
What little appetite she had just went down the drain, and when her salmon dish was placed in front of her, despite its mouthwatering smell, she could only poke it around with her fork. The man across the table, however, had no qualms eating everything in sight. She imagined he'd eat the candle like a carrot stick. And what a beautifully carved candlestick it was.
In fact, the entire restaurant made her feel like Cinderella at the Royal Ball, the clock about to strike 12 at any moment. The cellos, violins, harps, flutes, and the grand piano completely made of transparent glass, wove their song hypnotically down her bare skin, through strands of her hair, into her head, and into her chest so that her heart pumped in beat with the classic jazz. Lights glittered and reflected tiny rays of imperceptible rainbows throughout the room from the hanging crystals of the chandeliers, almost as beautiful as the stars. Akane wanted to reach up and encase her hand around one, maybe to make a wish.
She felt gorgeous. She felt rich.
She tried to imagine having this surreal feeling for the rest of her life.
Her vision of lights was blocked by Genma who stood in front of her with his hand outstretched.
"Dance with me."
Her hand mindlessly drifted to land gently on his, and the rest of her numb body was slowly tugged off her seat to follow him to the dance floor. All the while the silver sparkles of her dress attracting many eyes in the restaurant. The people murmured, they whispered, they watched, and some even joined them on the dance floor. Akane shivered in the thrill of being the center of attention. People who joined the dance floor, nodded and smiled at her, treating her like one of them – the aristocrats.
She didn't even notice her feet automatically fall into a quick-paced waltz lead by Genma.
Was this what they meant when they said 'being swept off your feet?'
Was this what they meant by 'being treated like a queen?'
She closed her eyes, and her head arched back slightly, to simply take in the atmosphere. In the midst of her champagne-filled, music-seduced mind, she realized Genma twirled her around adding to the rush of sensation. Her long dress flared out, the single long slit revealing her smooth creamy leg. And she felt wonderful.
From the soft taps of women's heels on the wood floor, to the classical instruments in the center of the room, and the silverware, the crystal champagne and wine glasses, Akane could only hear and breathe the enchantment of high society.
And she kept spinning and spinning.
……
She didn't know how long they danced, she didn't know how many glasses they shared, and she didn't know how many hours have passed. All she was aware of was that the clock never rang at midnight and her dress remained in place.
But her bones were weary, her limbs like boneless rubber, and her spine whined in pain. If not for the intake of wine and champagne, she was sure her head would've been pounding, similar to being beat by a hammer. Akane was vaguely aware that she was held firmly against Genma's chest by his strong arm around her waist and her head rested against his chest, over his heart. She blinked tiredly and tried to put some space between them, but his arm was unrelenting.
Dead tired was an understatement.
Considering the day she's had, it was really not her fault. Her day started out with an early morning class at school, that ridiculous energy-sapping fight with Ranma, the long four-hour shift at the hospital, and now, this – Genma's irrational, sick, demands.
This was just about all that she could stand.
"Excuse me, uh, sir, but I really think I should get going, now," she lifted her head and tried to look assertive even with her head lolling from side to side from her drunk tired state.
He looked down at her, a small knowing smile on his face that made her stomach churn. "Shhh," he shushed her and his hand pressed her head against his chest once more.
She ducked from his hand and lifted her head again, "No, really. I want to go home. I'm very tired." A slice of reality cut through the fog surrounding her mind, and she blinked rapidly as a tiny spark of rationality returned her to her normal state. She pulled away, trying to free herself from his locked-tight arm. Her hand pushed at his chest. "Let go."
But he kept dancing, spinning her around the dance floor to the never-ending music and ageless patrons with their diamonds and gold.
"I said, let go!" She raised her voice a notch, causing only the nearby dancers to look their way.
He only tightened his hold further. "Be a good girl and stay silent, Hitomi," he murmured.
Akane froze upon hearing the name.
"What did you call me?" she asked barely above a whisper. A thousand denials swam in her mind, and her skin crawled with disgust. A chill ran down her back, and the temperature of the room dropped drastically. The lights weren't so warm anymore, and the music wasn't so inviting anymore.
When he didn't answer, she pulled away with more vigor, and fisted her hands to hit him on the chest. "I said let go you freak!"
Some people gasped and stared in their direction but she didn't care. She wanted to escape as soon as possible from this crazy web she was lured into. "I'm not my mother, you sick fuck! Let go!"
And he did. She fell to the floor.
She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind but was distracted by a familiar voice from the entrance of the restaurant.
"Outta my way!" A pigtailed boy flipped over the blockade of waiters and ran in her direction with the maitre d' trailing after him, begging him to calm down. "Akane!" His head whipped around the room and finally landed on her fallen form on the floor.
"Ranma!" She cried out before she could stop herself.
Men in suits and sunglasses appeared from the corners and ran towards him trying to hold him back. It was like watching water flow around the black figures of Genma's bodyguards. Ranma evaded, blocked, and moved like live liquid, flowing gracefully and forcefully around his opponents. Akane couldn't help but admire his form, the strong leg that sprang up in the air, kicking a man in the face, the tense arm that shot forward, catching a man by the throat and throwing him to the floor.
I wonder what it would be like to dance with him.
The cocking of numerous guns caught her attention, and she looked up to see Genma gone and, in his place, a group of men with weapons aimed at Ranma. At that moment, other patrons ran and screamed in havoc, desperately exiting the restaurant.
Time slowed like tar, she spun to cry out at him, to warn him of bullets that were impossible to dodge, but when she turned he was already a foot away from her, his hand reaching out to grab her. She gave no resistance when he wrapped an arm around her and leapt behind the liquor bar. That's when the gunshots rang out deafening her world. The liquor bottles lined up against the wall behind the bar, popped and burst from the bullets, and Ranma completely wrapped her with his body to shield her from pieces of flying glass. She huddled close to him and covered her head with her arms.
When the last of the ammo ran out, and silence filtered in from the group of men refilling their artillery, Ranma shoved off his coat and wrapped her with it before jumping out of the bar to take advantage of the pause. From behind the bar, she could hear the sounds of guns falling to the ground, men crying out, tables breaking, glass shattering, and silverware spilling onto the floor.
Feeling left out, she peeked above the bar and instantly locked her eyes on the pigtailed boy. Two suited men were left, and they advanced on him simultaneously from both sides. He used a table for leverage, lifting himself with a jump, and spun around performing a flawless round-house kick, knocking out both men.
Akane noticed another man creep up behind him, but before Ranma could turn and finish the pathetic man off, an unbroken bottle of vodka crashed against the side of the man's head, and he crumpled to the floor. Surprised, Ranma glanced at Akane who was still behind the bar with a rather large grin on her face.
He shook his head ruefully. "Such a hellcat," he uttered.
Picking up a cracked bottle of hard liquor, Ranma grabbed her hand and rushed out of the restaurant. She picked up a bottle of her own on her way out, knowing she'll need it later on.
……
There was actually nothing funny about their predicament, and there was nothing funny about the number of people who either got injured or killed. But the two laughed into the night, running and tripping to their destination, their hands never letting go of each other. They took large swigs of liquor from their bottles, spilling it everywhere on them and on the street. Once, they had to stop moving completely because she was laughing too hard to breathe. Ranma, snickering himself, handed her his bottle, scooped her up bridal style, and hopped on the rooftops to the University dorm.
He snuck them into Yuka's room through the window to avoid confrontation with any students that might still be up and roaming the hallways. Gingerly, he laid a dozing Akane onto the bed, and her arms slipped down from around his neck. He rubbed the pad of his thumbs across the dark circles underneath her eyes, and brushed her bangs from her forehead. Even in sleep, her worn out expression did not ease from her face.
He unpinned the rose in her hair, laying it on the table beside the bed. Her glowing silver dress shimmered with every movement she made in her sleep. He had to admit she looked stunning in it. Unconsciously, his hand ran down her smooth bare arms, and his eye caught sight of a bare leg that escaped the slit of her dress.
Ranma wished she was awake again to yap at him and distract him.
"That bastard," he seethed. He had no idea what Genma's intentions were but 'pure' they were not. Standing up, he had half the mind to go search out the stupid man and resume their unfinished fight, if only to satisfy his thirst for a brawl.
He didn't care what Genma did with Xian Pu or other under-aged girls, but fooling around with Akane was taking it a step too far. She had nothing to do with their business and their family.
Just an innocent girl, tutoring him and basically making his life a living hell.
Akane turned in her sleep, mumbling, "Ranma."
He was down by her side in an instant. "Akane?" Her regulated breathing and lightly close eyelids told him she was still deeply slumbering.
"Stay," she breathed out in a soft whisper.
He could do nothing else.
……
The figure with his trademark pigtail hanging from the back of his head stepped out of the dorm building. Shifting only his narrowed eyes, he surveyed the area. It was still early in the morning, the sun barely peeping over the low hills and landscape of small apartment houses. One or two students were out strolling the campus, and a single car zoomed by, its engine echoing in the far distance.
He slipped on his black Armani sunglasses. Ranma idly fixed the collar of his opened sky-blue shirt, continuously keeping an eye on his surroundings. Cuffing his sleeves up to his elbows, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his khakis, and walk away with long easy strides.
……
"Have you seen Akane?"
Ranma looked up in surprise at the question and at the person who asked it. "Not since yesterday," he answered, a hint of boredom lurking in his expression.
Ryouga, who had been lounging on the grass next to him, perked up with interest. Despite their luxurious position in the cool dark shade of a large oak tree, the boys squinted, crinkling their noses, as they peered up at two girls standing over them.
Nerima University boasted its campus green, a large lawn spread in the dead center of the campus. Various department buildings surrounded the 'green,' as students fondly called it, and it was the place for activities, get-togethers, lounging, studying under the sun, and tanning. Two or three Frisbees flew across the lawn now and then, with the occasional soccer ball.
MIA Students were usually found wasting away under the various trees on the 'green' – students like Ranma and Ryouga.
"We haven't heard from her all day," Yuka sighed, "And she never misses class! She would call one of us if there was an emergency." The girls settled themselves comfortably, sitting Indian style, on the shaded grass. "Hi, Ryouga," she added.
He smiled briefly at her before his eyebrows furrowed again. "Who was the last person to see her yesterday?"
"Probably her family," Ranma shrugged. He sat transfixed at the sight of a red ant crawling across his hand.
"Actually," Yuka rolled her eyes at him, "She never made it home. I told them you were the last person who saw her."
"What!" He cried out. The ant was brutally flung off his hand a yard away. "Why did you have to go and do that!" He flopped back to the grass, burying his face in his hands. He moaned pitifully. "Now the Queen Bitch will be up my ass until the little runaway decides to come home!"
"Wow, how many brain cells did you burn to deduce that correctly?" Nabiki's voice filtered into the group. Like a desert mirage – not quite an oasis but more like a stone well without a bucket – the classy sharply-dressed young woman walked up to them and crossed her arms across her chest, ready to reprimand the delinquents.
"None, it hardly requires any thought," he replied dryly. He passed her a sloppy mock salute. "Tendo."
"Where is she, Saotome?" She demanded. Akane's friends marveled at her direct approach, cutting through the frivolous introductions and friendly buildup. When she wanted answers, she wanted answers.
"I don't know," he emphasized each word. "I'm not her fucking babysitter."
"No, she's your fucking babysitter," she drawled. "Where is she?"
"No idea," he shrugged. "Besides, I'm quite amused by the fact that the great Nabiki Tendo doesn't know something – and it happens to be the whereabouts of her own kid sister." A Cheshire grin stretched slowly across his face. "Losing your touch, are you?"
"Eat shit."
"Are you recommending it from experience?"
"Eat shit and die, asshole."
"Such a potty mouth." He smiled smugly at his double-entendre to his own amusement. The rest of the group members, sans Nabiki, listened to the tête-à-tête with trepid fascination.
It was like watching a praying mantis battle it out with a killer bee. They just wanted to jump to the part where she was supposed to rip his head off…without the mating ritual, of course.
She snorted, "Talk about the pot calling the tea kettle black."
"GUYS!" Yuka cut in loudly. "Focus, guys, focus! This is not bringing Akane back!" Sayuri and Ryouga sighed tiredly, feeling the early warning signs of a headache. Why was it, that none of the Saotome's and Tendo's got along?
Nabiki glared at the girl, before returning her attention to Ranma. "Where is she! Last warning!"
"Or else what?"
Silence settled over the group, unable to imagine what horrors Nabiki would conjure up against the idiotic boy. There were two entities that were not to be tested in the Nerima district of Tokyo. One was, obviously, the Yakuza. And the other was, ultimately, Nabiki Tendo. She knew the deepest darkest secrets that not even the owner was aware of. She knew one's fears before he could experience it. (And if he didn't have a phobia, she gave him something to fear.) And worst of all, she held no reservations in using all this information to fit her needs, victims be damned.
Nabiki Tendo was pulling out the big guns.
"Or else," she paused, "I tell our new circle of friends, present company included, about you-know-who."
It was a shiny, big, bazooka.
Sayuri spoke for the first time, cunningly asking, "Who?"
Nobody answered her innocent query. Everyone else shifted uncomfortably, itching with curiosity and yet terrified to know. After all, only Ryouga knew what the two had going on between them, and he looked ready to dig a hole into the ground and stuff his head in it.
While it was obvious that Ranma Saotome would have a few skeletons in his closet, maybe some still decaying, the more shocking issue at hand was the leverage Nabiki had over him because of a few buried bones. Being who he was, people expected Ranma to have a notorious past. Perhaps, some even expected him to brag about it.
Ryouga grimaced. Despite the festering tension, in his honest opinion, the two of them were being a tad overdramatic. Mentioning Ranma's past with you-know-who doing you-know-what during you-know-when hardly concerned Yuka or Sayuri. In fact, he doubted they would've even cared much.
However, irrational Ranma was adamant in keeping his past in the past any way possible. Ryouga didn't know much about psychology, but he suspected Ranma was utilizing repression. He didn't have to be a shrink to know that it was unhealthy in the long-run for the pigtailed boy. One day the boy would have to regurgitate his past demons and let it all out – like an exorcism, but worse.
In a serious tone, rarely heard from him, Ranma stood up and spoke to the Tendo sister succinctly, "I don't know where she is. I suggest we split up and look for her. If any of us find anything, well, we all have cell phones."
Nabiki nodded.
"I'll go with Ryouga!" Yuka volunteered loudly, stepping up beside him. He looked down at her in shock. She smiled harmlessly, and started to physically drag him in a random direction.
"Uh," Sayuri moved towards him but stopped herself when the two disappeared behind a building. "I'll…I'll go see if Ryunsuke has heard anything," she paused, "though, I doubt he would help me." Her shoulders slumped over and she went off in her own path, leaving Ranma and Nabiki.
"Whatever," Nabiki shrugged, turning around to go back where she came from, "I'll look for her down this area."
He waited till she was out sight. Hiding a gleeful grin, he blew out a short monotone whistle. Almost immediately another man his age appeared beside him.
The man, also a student of the University, took off his non-prescription eyeglasses and nodded respectfully at him.
Ranma patted him lightly on the shoulder.
"Good job, Hiro," he said, and he headed for the dorm once again.
…
Nabiki cursed under her breath, digging her delicate heels viciously into the grass as she walked. Her primly manicured hand searched her handbag roughly moving the contents around inside. Victoriously, she brought out a cigarette pack, sighing contently at the sight.
She wasn't really big on smoking, but during high-strung stressful moments like these, a quick smoke was as effective as a hammer – it nailed the spot.
With a flick of her wrist, she flipped the pack upside down to her waiting palm. Not one slim cancer stick fell out. She furrowed her slim, pristinely plucked eyebrows, and crushed the empty pack with her hand. Emitting a growl that would've had Akane proud, she threw it back into her bag, bringing out a cell phone, instead.
She punched a few buttons with her long glossy cerulean nail. Flinging her hair from her ear, she brought the phone to her oval face. The first ring hadn't finished its round when it was picked up on the other end.
"Yeah, it's me. I'm on the south end of the 'green.' Bring me a pack of fucking cigs, now."
Snapping her slick silver phone shut, Nabiki plopped herself onto a nearby bench. She wouldn't have been half as angry as she was if she didn't know that someone had lied to her. Somewhere, in her questionings, someone, some ass-picking dipshit, lied to her – to her.
And nobody lied to Nabiki Tendo.
She was well aware that Ranma had blatantly lied to her. But he was as untouchable as she was, and bugging him about it would only end in a stalemate with empty threats and poisoned words. And he knew it. That filthy mongrel knew it.
The family was worried. Kasumi had been a mess in the morning from lack of sleep, and their father had skipped both dinner and breakfast – nibbling away on his celery sticks – moaning and whining about his missing "baby girl." If Akane remained missing for the rest of the day, they would have to report it to the police tomorrow. She was as good as dead if it came to that. The police never found any missing persons.
But, that was not their problem since Nabiki knew Ranma had the whereabouts of her sister. The bastard was just not sharing the information with anyone else. And if Nabiki didn't know any better, she would've guessed that sly weasel Hiro had lied to her under Ranma's orders.
Hiro had been in the most unfortunate position between the two most feared people on campus, and he had been forced to make a stand. He chose Ranma. Which was understandable, Nabiki reasoned. After all, what was one's reputation when his fingers were at stake?
Of course, the Yakuza was past such silly tortures and rituals, but the more inveterate, like Genma and mostly likely his son, probably kept up with traditions, such as collecting fingers.
Oh, well, she thought, everyone needs a hobby.
A lanky thin boy slowly sneaked his way next to her on the bench. He ducked his head, shaggy hair covering his eyes, and he held out a pack of cigarettes. His uneven breathing and disheveled clothes clearly confirmed that he ran as if the hounds of hell were after him.
Without even sparing him a glance, she reached over and snatched the pack, opening it immediately. Seconds later, a white stick dangled between her shiny rouge lips. The boy dug into his pocket and brought out a lighter, sparking it to life under the tip of the cig. Once a thin stream of white smoke drifted from the end, she waved him away carelessly, never once looking in his direction.
She hated cigarettes. Nabiki deeply took in the bitter acrid taste, feeling her insides burn and melt all the stress away. Above all else, she hated smokers.
A while later when her cigarette burned up halfway, she twisted her head to see the shaggy-haired boy still standing alert next to the bench.
"Do you have something to tell me?" She asked.
"Uh, no."
"Then, get lost."
He edged away, glancing at her dubiously.
"Scram."
….
Yuka carefully eyed her reflection on the window of the pastry shop as they walked by. Seeing that everything was in place and orderly, she returned her attention back to Ryouga with newly acquired confidence. They had been walking for some time around the edge of the campus, and he hadn't said a word to her except for the random "this way" or "that way." Frankly, she was starting to feel a bit put out.
"So, tell me about yourself, Ryouga," she tiled her head cutely, her ponytail swinging to and fro, like a puppy's wagging tail. Despite her plain look and average style, she played it up as best as she could, using all the sass and cuteness she could muster. The head-tilt was the trick.
He avoided her eyes, shrugging, "There's really not much to say."
She pouted. Hell if that wasn't discouraging…
Tell me everything, she thought, tell me why you look so sad all the time, why you only smile genuinely for Akane and Sayuri, why you keep to yourself with your silent ways. Tell me what you dream of every night, what you want for the future, what you wake up for every morning. Tell me if you look for stars in the twilight of the setting sun, which one you wish upon, what you wish for. Tell me what you fear, what I can do to keep you safe, what keeps you strong. Do you like walking in the spring rain? Do you like sugar and milk with your coffee? Do you think love lasts forever? I want to know about you.
"Do you believe in love at first sight?"
She almost smacked herself. You stupid, stupid girl!
His step faltered almost unnoticeably. One problem with girls was that they asked unnecessary questions. They had an uncanny knack for digging under a guy's skin and knowing exactly what buttons to push to make him react to their wishes. Even the girl with unwashed hair, thick nerdy glasses, thick bushy unibrow, and yellow buck teeth, knew by instinct how to ask that one question to make a guy sputter either in surprise, or in this case, horror. And Yuka was anything but a girl as such.
With her head tilted over in just the right angle and those large hazel eyes blinking at him with misty long eyelashes, she was cute enough to snuggle.
Then again, it had been a long time since a girl tilted her head in his direction. Most of his years were spent watching from the sidelines as all of the female population tilted their airy little heads at Mr. Hotshot Ranma.
"I guess," he finally answered.
Her smile blossomed in full bloom, and he felt his cheeks burn up. Another problem with girls was their smile. Somehow, a smile beautified a girl a hundred-fold to make a guy's knees weak and wobbly. With a smile, these vixen creatures could seduce any unsuspecting guy to wilt under their command. Even the girl with unwashed hair, thick nerdy glasses, thick bushy uni-brow, and yellow buck teeth could smile and manage to look, marginally, acceptable. It was all in the smile.
Her thick black eyelashes forming rainbows as she smiled her pearly whites, spreading those glistening pink lips, she was cute enough to kiss.
But a vision of short stands of sparkling sapphire hair, followed by melting milk-chocolate eyes glowing with hidden raw passion and simple innocence, made him walk into a telephone pole.
"Oh my god!" Yuka cried out, reaching for his arm. "Are you okay?" A few pedestrians snickered and pointed as they walked by, and she glared daggers at them.
She quickly ushered him in an alleyway between buildings, and rested him against the wall. Gently removing his hand from the bump on his forehead, Yuka inspected the bruise creasing her forehead. In a feathery touch, her fingers glided over the injury across his head, her face leaning close into his.
"Silly Ryouga," she murmured affectionately, and his heart clenched.
"Yuka," he nudged her away only an inch, afraid to hurt her physically and emotionally.
She giggled, like small golden bells in his ears, and she flipped around to rest her back against the brick wall beside him. "You'd think as a gang member, you'd have more skill and experience with the girls. You're as shy as a freshman boy."
"Yuka," he tried again to no avail.
"But," she coyly scraped the gravel floor with the toe of her shoe, ducking her head bashfully, "I like you that way."
He mirrored her move, toeing the ground and ducking his head, unable to say anything.
He felt like an asshole. Now was the time to tell her honestly and candidly that he liked someone else. Specifically, her friend. He shouldn't hesitate to set things straight and do her a favor by telling her now before anything feelings grew. He would be the scum of all scums if he didn't tell her right at this moment. Now, Ryouga!
But he paused. How many girls looked his way lately? When was the last time a girl confessed to him in such a sweet manner, bringing his high school dream to life? (Never mind the fact that he was now in college.) He would have to be complete moron to let this opportunity slip from his grasp.
God, he really was an asshole, no better than Ranma.
"Yuka," he sighed, "I'm not, uh, there's…that is…I…" He couldn't finish the sentence.
An uncomfortable silence reigned over them regardless of the honking cars and bustling people outside the alley. Yuka tried to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. Tears were for losers, her father always said, and she wasn't someone to give up so easily. Perhaps she had already known it would turn out this way. For some reason, she wasn't all that surprised.
"What is it?" She feigned ignorance.
"Nothing," he forced on a smile, which she returned in the same fashion.
"Well, anyway, let's get back outside and look for that runaway brat. This is probably an act for attention, as if she doesn't get enough of it already," Yuka rolled her eyes heavenward as she started for the entrance of the alleyway. "I hope Ranma has had better luck since he was the last person with her. Honestly, he could've shown a bit more concern for his missing tutor." She grumbled.
Ryouga followed her out, coughing to the side. "Actually, he wasn't the last person with her."
She halted in the middle of the sidewalk, turning to look at him curiously.
He coughed violently to the side under her gaze. "I was."
……
Ranma rapped on the door, looking down both ends of the hallway in the dorm. A few doors were left wide open, and students roamed from dorm room to room, procrastinating and mucking about. The door in front of him edged open and a single brown eye appeared from behind the thin crack. The rest of the door was swung open to reveal a pitch black room with closed curtains… which suited him just fine.
He idled by the doorway as Akane drifted around the room, picking up random belongings. Gathering the simmering silver cocktail dress and matching diamond studded shoes, she stuffed everything in a bag. She looked back, giving the room a once over to make sure nothing was left behind, and he followed her out.
Despite recent events, they had a difficult time bringing up something to talk about. It didn't help that the whole situation seemed a bit taboo, though not quite. The elevator ride down had been stiff and numbingly soundless except for the ding of the bell upon arrival.
Akane was dolorously surprised to find that the sun was still out, if low, but still up and shining in the afternoon. She clenched her eyes shut and retracted back a few steps as she left the building. A pained moan escaped her lips catching Ranma's attention.
Something cool brushed against her face and she opened her eyes to see the world a shade darker than before. He had slipped his sunglasses on her face. Dazedly she touched the glasses with her fingertips, staring up at him in wonder.
He looked elsewhere, scouting the area, and with his hands loosely in his khaki pockets, he started for his house. "Let's get this tutoring thing done early today."
Akane ran a few steps to catch up with his long strides, "Why?"
"So you can go home earlier."
She pouted. "But I don't want to go there," she said weakly.
"Stop dawdling," he snapped, "he's not at home anyway."
"Why can't we just go to my house?" She inquired.
"Too much noise in your house," he frowned, "makes it impossible to study."
"You? Study?" Akane halted her gait and stood bewildered. "Now there's something you don't hear everyday," she mumbled to herself.
"Cute," he said deadpanned, "real cute."
They took some time to reflect, walking peacefully and briskly. She didn't understand why he was in such a hurry. But then again, she wasn't up for another argument. So in a rare moment of acquiescence, she pleasantly kept up with him, shoulder to shoulder.
Then again…
"Well, how do you know it's loud?" She perched her hands on her hips. "You've never been there."
He scoffed, "It's obvious for all you big households. Nabiki will be typing on her keyboard with that click clack sound and occasionally yap on her cell phone. There'll probably be some kind of noise from the kitchen, pots banging, knives chopping, water running. And your dear old pop will watch a game show with the volume up high due to his gradual loss of hearing."
Slowly, her hands slid down from her hips and she petulantly slumped her shoulders, her lips still forming a pout.
They stood in front of the famous Saotome gates, and she finally spoke, "You really thought this out, didn't you?"
She never received an answer. Instead, the iron gates moaned open for the two awaiting entrants. He walked her up to the front door and inside without a word. Already late in the afternoon, the rays spread orange-red hues into every crook and cranny within the house, however all lights were remained off. Not a single lantern was lit, and not a single sound was made. And Mrs. Saotome was no where in sight.
"Hey," she searched the living room as they walked by, "where's your moth–"
She stopped abruptly spotting a scantily-clad, abundantly curvaceous, young woman with amethyst strands of hair, crowning her head in a loose bun and small curls drifting down her face and neck.
Akane started when she felt Ranma grab her hand between them. She glanced at him, but he was staring hard at the lovely woman standing in front of them in the hallway. The lady, who had her eyes solely on him, drifted her gaze down to their intertwined fingers. Feeling terribly self-conscious, Akane pulled her hand trying to free herself from his iron grip. It was like Chinese handcuffs – the harder she pulled the stronger his grip got.
"Let go, jerk," she hissed at him, tugging more nonetheless.
"Ranma," the woman called out accusingly at him, meanwhile surprising Akane unnoticeably.
Akane had been expecting a low, sultry, sensuous voice, not the melodic, child-like lilt. It didn't quite suit her, and Akane felt comforted in knowing that her own voice complemented her persona just fine.
"Who is this?" The woman asked and fixed an adorably indignant and confused frown on her delicate, doll-like face.
Feeling understandably put out, Akane spoke to answer the question, gathering as much of womanly pride as possible, despite appearing like a stumpy, geeky, pre-pubescent, 12 year old in the other lady's presence. "Hi, I'm Akane, Ranma's –"
"—girlfriend," Ranma finished.
She sputtered and whipped her head to face him in disbelief.
A wan smile grew on his unrelenting face, and an arm came up to perch across her shoulders, its grip tightening meaningfully. His eyes flickered on her before returning back to the stunned woman in front of them.
Akane forced on a smile of her own, resembling a scowl instead, and she answered with a weak puny laugh, "Yeah, girlfriend… I guess." Her eyes rolled to the side and glowered at him.
Ranma and Akane heard a sound from behind them, and they glanced over their shoulders to see Ryouga standing in the hallway, his eyes wide with shock.
……
AN: this freakin chapter is 21 pages which is way over my regular quota. Sorry if it was such a drag to read. I don't like to read long stuff either. But I hope it was entertaining. Hey! Since it was a long chapter you'd better leave long reviews:P pahaha, nah, just kidding. You're welcome to flame me for writing such a long and boring chapter. It's no skin off my back. (grin)
……
Artichokes are like humans: you have to go through so much to get to the heart. Kathy Good