Misery Loves Company
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfiction
by Ryan Erik

Part Two: Haunted Pasts
(4 of 4)

Resting his head against the backboard of the hotel bed, Kiyoshi stared at the door to the room. With the comforter bundled up by his feet, leaving only the top sheet to cover him, he controlled his breathing, inhaling and exhaling incredibly slowly. Something within him was bursting, but he firmly held it in check, unwilling to let anything reach the surface.

How was he supposed to feel about this? These emotions were unfamiliar to him. A century of pain was enough to rob anyone of heartfelt pleasure—even the very memory of it. And now, someone extremely close to him, closer than he had been to nearly anyone, someone whom he feared he might reject with these emotions was evoking them.

There was no doubt in his heart, mind or soul that what he was experiencing was love, and yet he did not wish to recognize it. To do so might de-evolve him back into the monster he once was, and he would rather fall straight into hell than repeat that past. Love was only a derivative of lust, and lust is candy to the body, but ultimately torture to the soul, his soul.

And yet, that did not make any sense to him. He did not lust after her. He had not lusted after anyone since his reformation, within his conscious control, and somehow he knew that what he felt for his charge, his new sister, Kimiko was not lust.

What was it then: a love a father might have for a daughter, a brother for a sister? Or was it something more? Kiyoshi simply did not have the experience to discern the answer to his grave problem. Questioning it only brought him more confusion, so he would need to sort through his feelings, and hopefully shed some light on the situation.

On one hand, he truly admired her. Kimiko's perseverance through the worst of situations, and her amazing ability to pull her wits together after something as traumatic as she had gone through were nothing less than astounding. The experience would have killed a lesser person, and it would have probably tried Kiyoshi to the limit as well.

On the other hand, he thought her attractive, inside as well as out. Underneath, he saw the soul forged of steel, as brilliant as it was beautiful. Fighting beside her or against her, he felt the rush of her spirit brushing against him. She was so powerful, and held the ability for so much more, that he could not help but to be tantalized by it. To work with her so that she might reach her fullest potential was enough to keep him living another century or two, if it would be required of him to fulfill it.

Without, she was a beauty as well. From the way she approached a fight, sauntering over to her opponent like a lethal viper, to the time the sun sparkled off her skin when he had taken her to the southern California beaches, he could not think of words to express the anxiety he felt. If not even for that, her smile easily broke past his inner defenses, even occasionally stealing away his wits.

If it had not been for that moment in the car when Kimiko fell asleep against him, he might not have even come to realize what he was dealing with now. She had seemed so helpless in his arms with her hair splashed up against him, and then she had turned to face him, propped up on her left shoulder with her head resting against his right arm like a pillow. It had hit him so strongly when she reached around his waist and hugged him tightly, whispering softly in her sleep. His spine had tingled, and that feeling seemed to have spread all over his body.

Breaking his concentration, Kiyoshi kicked off his sheets and swung his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed. Could that have been love? he wondered. He wondered if fathers had ever felt like that holding their daughters, so close to their child, sharing a bond that defied explanation and logic. Was that it? Could all that he have felt for her merely be a strong attachment he had developed over the year he had been training her?

Although it seemed that way, he did not think it was the complete answer. He was a father to her in some ways, but their relationship was filled with entirely too much mutual respect for each other to simply write off everything with such an explanation. There was definitely something else to the equation. He needed to find out what that was and control it, before it could ever gain the possibility of controlling him. In his life, his profession and with his past, there simply was no room for unsolved mysteries.

Lowering himself off the bed, his feet met the cool, wooden floor. The pant legs of his pajama bottoms fell into place, tickling his ankles. Adjusting his long-sleeved top, he walked to the door and opened it. The small hall was completely dark, because the room to both Kimiko's room and the living room were both closed tightly, and his room was already entirely pitch black.

Cautiously turning the knob to Kimiko's door, he took a deep breath. As he pushed the door open, he quietly tiptoed into the room, and then shut the door behind him. Her soft, slow-rhythm breathing keyed him in to realize that she slept very soundly. Feeling his way through the dark, he found the foot of her bed and walked around to its side.

From the sound of her breathing, he judged her to be in the middle of the bed, so he sat on the edge with his back to her. Reaching to the bedside table, he found the lamp and switched it on. It only shed a soft light with the first twist, and he had no need for any more illumination.

Turning around to face her, he nearly chuckled at the sight. Completely dressed in all but her missing shoes, Kimiko lay on her side with both hands under her head, knees bunched up to her chest, and her mouth slightly open. She looked like she had in the car, so peaceful, innocent and so utterly helpless. A smile shaped on his lips as he watched her sleep.

At times, Kimiko acted just as well as any adult and just as maturely, yet put in a situation with children, she would promptly shift her attitude to coincide with theirs. It seemed as if there was a struggle inside her for dominance, the child that was never allowed to be and the adult she had grown up to become. It was the child inside of her that made him feel like a father to her, and it was the adult within her that confused his emotions.

Right now the child in her beckoned to him. Leaning over, he slid her skirt off and then tossed it over onto the chair in the corner of the room. Drawing upon years of experience, he removed her bra without even ruffling her blouse, and then tossed that on top of her skirt. As she drew herself up into a ball, already shivering from the chill in the room, Kiyoshi sneaked the comforter from beneath her, sliding it to her feet. Lastly, he then covered her with it, tucking her in tightly so that only her head poked out.

Satisfied, Kiyoshi paused at her bedside for a moment. Reaching over, he clicked off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness once more. With a departing sigh, he turned and walked to door. As his hand hovered above the doorknob, he stopped.

"Kiyoshi?"

The whisper came from Kimiko, and he turned back around just as the lamp switched on again. Rubbing her face with one hand, and holding herself upright with the other, Kimiko groggily yawned.

"It's me," he answered, calmly standing by the door. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Don't worry 'bout it," she said, propping herself against the headboard. "Something the matter?"

Taking a deep breath, Kiyoshi wondered about that himself. Was there a real reason why he'd come here, maybe hoping that she would wake for him to speak with her.

"Why don't you sit?" Patting the space next to her, she smiled at him, the same smile that he had thought about earlier. The adult within her was now in control, he could tell. Her easy smile, and the warm look in her eyes radiated comfort, it seemed, and he could only smile back.

Walking around the bed again, he sat where she had indicated with his back to her. Unsure of what to say, of how he could explain his feelings to her, Kiyoshi remained silent in thought.

"You wouldn't have come in here if something wasn't on your mind," she whispered in his ear. Draping her arms around him, she loosely hugged his back and rested her chin on his right shoulder. "Now tell me what's wrong, and don't give me any excuses either."

Shrugging helplessly, Kiyoshi sat in silence for a moment before responding. "I couldn't sleep, so I went to check up on you and tuck you in." He felt bad about not divulging the entirety of his plight, but he did tell the truth. Even knowing she would not buy that as the whole story, he still did not know what he could tell her.


"Thank you," Kimiko told her older brother, fondly tightening her hug for a moment. Even as she loosened her grip, she remained holding onto him. This way, he would not have a chance to escape before answering her question correctly. "I don't even remember falling asleep. You undressed me?"

"Yeah," he replied softly.

"What a nice older brother you are," she teased. Sitting back, she released him and rested against the backboard of the bed. Kiyoshi still faced away from her, staring at the floor. Curious to know what brought him here, she asked him again. "Now tell me why you really came in here. What's bothering you?"

"I really don't even know," he answered, turning his body to half face her. The tone of his voice suggested he was trying to tell her something greater, because it was so serious. "It doesn't matter anyway."

Already feeling rejuvenated from her short rest, Kimiko lifted her leg, and planted her foot squarely on his back with enough momentum to drive him to the floor. Breaking into giggles when his body met the wooden floor, she clutched her stomach.

"Funny," Kiyoshi muttered as he rose from the floor.

Nodding with agreement, Kimiko stopped laughing and only returned his glare with a smile. Sometimes he could be much too serious, and the next moment he would act like a little kid again. She just wished he would make up his mind.

"If you're not going to tell me, at least make up something good. I was having a nice dream for once, and you interrupted it. Now sit down, facing me, and spit it out." Having seriously drawn her line, Kimiko crossed her arms and waited for him.

With his hands indignantly placed on his hips, looking over to the door, Kiyoshi stood silently for a moment. He then shrugged and crawled up onto her bed to the very center where he crossed his legs and sat facing her. His steel gray eyes searched for something around the room, as if he was seeing it for the first time.

Shaking her head, Kimiko pointed directly at his face, taking his attention. "Look here," she told him, and then pointed a finger back at herself. "No evading me like that. Just tell me and get it over with. What are you scared of?"

"I'm scared of many things, Kimiko-chan," he replied stoically, now returning her stare. "But most of all, the fear that brought me here tonight." He blinked, building the drama, and then folded his hands together, interlacing his fingers.

"Well, what is it?" she asked, curious what one of the fiercest martial artists on the planet was afraid of.

"Losing you," he answered so seriously that she had no doubt of the truth of his words.

Blinking in disbelief, she peered at him. "What do you mean, losing me? Come on, that doesn't make any sense. I'm not going anywhere without you."

"That's not how I meant it," he began. "I was thinking more to the lines of losing you spiritually. From what I heard of your last battle, you weren't quite up to your usual standards, and in fact, quite distracted through a great portion of the fight."

Shrugging him off, she began feeling a little defensive. This was definitely not something she felt like discussing, right now of all times. She knew what he was getting at, and it bothered her. Had they not already talked this over once?

"I had a few things on my mind," she admitted, turning her head. "But, I got back in there once I realized Rintaro was so serious. Nothing serious. It's not like I lost or anything." Before he even said it, Kimiko knew his rebuttal would lie around her having fallen unconscious after the fight.

"For all intensive purposes, you did lose. You were not on your mark, you took a beating, and you underestimated your enemy. I thought you were past all these amateur mistakes?" When Kimiko glanced at him briefly, she caught his intense glare.

"Ok, so I messed up," she conceded. "I'll do better next time, big brother." Flashing her eyelashes at him, she giggled when he rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Kiyoshi. You really need to lighten up a little. It's not like my life was at stake." Though she had to admit she had taken it too seriously at the time, she knew he was above harping on a few mistakes she had already realized that she'd made.

"Sorry, but that's not what actually has me concerned."

Here it comes, she thought to herself as the smile faded from her face. "And what would that be, then?"

"I'm sure you already know, little sister," he whispered.

"Enlighten me." If he was going to bring it up, he would have to say it himself. There was no way that she would let him fool her into blurting anything out.

"Akane," he stated. The name itself sounded strange coming from his lips as he spoke it. "You have bottled up your feelings for her, not allowing yourself to grieve."

Ignoring the growing tightness in her chest, she shook her head in fervent denial. She wanted to shout back, and speak every foul word in her vocabulary for both English and Japanese, but she did not because she knew he was right. Her watery eyes were enough to discredit her regardless of what she had to say anyway.

"I'm sorry, love, but I'm right." He closed his eyes and yawned. "Your first love, the woman you were supposed to marry, has taken another, and you can't even acknowledge that you're hurt. Well, you can act like that, but it doesn't change anything, except make things worse for you. And for me. And for anyone who comes within a thirty-meter radius. Don't hide your feelings, especially from me. Otherwise, you'll never recover." He stopped and opened his eyes.

"What would you know about it, Kiyoshi?" She glared at him to prove her point, but instead of the usual jocular, cynical remark or some universal truth that she might have expected, he stunned her with the sincerity and content of his next words.

"I had someone once," Kiyoshi quietly remarked, his voice solemn and serious. The twinkle in his eyes dimmed and the vitality of his manner diminished. He returned her stare, almost indignantly as he prepared to recount a tale long secured in the far reaches of his past, which was lukewarm at best. His steel-gray eyes fell to the side, unable to keep eye contact.

"Really?" Kimiko innocently asked, drawing closer to her benefactor, intensely interested and surprised by his sudden openness. "Please tell me about it. I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"It was a very long time ago," he admitted, resting his arms across his chest. He took a deep, sorrowful breath, but he did not withdraw from her and began a truthful tale. "I was in my early twenties." As he began, his seriousness faded slightly, returning the life previously occupying him, releasing some of Kimiko's worry over the man. "I was young and handsome, and she was only one year my junior, and very beautiful." He toyed with his shirtsleeves, staring intently at them, but his lips curled into a slight grin.

"Handsome?" she asked, grinning smartly.

"Okay, so maybe I wasn't the most attractive person in the world," he gave in, returning her infectious smile. "Or tall, for that matter." She giggled a bit and he let her finish before he continued. "I was about your height now, and though I wasn't the greatest looker in the world, I wasn't ugly either. I met the would-be love of my life then. She was a farmer's daughter, a rich farmer, and I was a poor man's son, an unlikely and unwelcome match for her." The bitterness he expressed was muted by time, but Kimiko still could hear it in his tones. Time could make things hurt less, but it can never fully make things better. "Needless to say, things didn't work out as I fantasized."

"When was this?" Kimiko interjected as he paused, intrigued with the knowledge.

"It was almost twenty years before the first World War," he answered, rubbing his arms nervously. He continued with his tale. For the first time since she had come to know him as he presently was, he truly sounded his own age. Beauty was just a mask he wore, covering an ancient, tortured soul. The coldness of his eyes was warmed by his admission, and the darkness receded from his face. "I met her on a cloudy, starless night a month before the harvest moon. I was running a task for my father when I saw her for the first time. The waxing moon poked through clouds, its light dancing on her pale skin. Her long black hair shone, and her skin glowed. She was unlike anyone I had ever seen. My heart pounded fast in my chest, and my cheeks flushed. I can only imagine how foolish I must have looked, gawking at her as I had as she sat on the edge of the village well."

From his pajama pocket on his left breast, he pulled a white silk handkerchief. Kimiko noted the reverence with which he held it, unconsciously stroking it with his thumb as he held it in the palm of his right hand. He sighed wistfully before he continued. "She did not even spare me a glance, though I gave her my complete attention. Had I decided to concentrate on completing the task set forth by my father, I might have saved myself from love, but instead I gathered my wits and introduced myself." He paused, replacing the handkerchief in his pocket.

"Don't stop now," Kimiko playfully whined.

Kiyoshi nodded with a weak grin. "She looked up at me after I said my name, and she smiled. It sent waves of energy through my body. I knew that smile was meant for me, and then she told me her name. I remarked that it was a nice night and she agreed. She offered me a seat next to her, but I politely protested, saying that I had a task to complete. We bade each other farewell, and I went on my own way." He paused again, rubbing his forehead with one hand. "We kept running into each other after that, but in reality, we finally noticed one another. We lived in a small town, one that her father virtually owned.

"One night, she appeared at my window, her face bruised, blood streaked on her cheeks." Kimiko gasped, completely absorbed within his tale. "I asked her what had happened, but she lied and said that she'd fallen off her horse. I did not believe her, but I kept my opinion to myself. I went with her to a lake that night, and held her until it was nearly dawn."

A tear broke free, spilling onto his cheek. He shut his eyes. "We spent more time together after that, in secret. It was harmless, innocent companionship, and yet love started to bloom. I spent my days in agony, needing her every moment, waiting until I could see her again, and I spent my nights holding her, kissing her, staring into her eyes.

"And like a fairy tale gone bad, it ended one night."

"What do you mean?" Kimiko asked, empathizing with him. "Did she break it off?"

"No," he replied solemnly. "One night, she appeared at my window again. I hardly recognized her out of her silk dresses. She wore a traveler's clothes and had a big pack on her back. Her only words were, 'Come with me.' And so I jumped out my window, having prepared for our tryst. She begged me to run away with her, to put as much distance between our home as we could. I never thought about such a thing before—it just simply never occurred to me." He stopped, his eyes still shut as a few tears streaked down his face.

"You went with her right?"

Kiyoshi opened his red, watery eyes and looked into hers, deadly serious. "No." The word carried like varnish, peeling away her eardrums. "I didn't."

"What do you mean, 'I didn't'?" She clenched her first, staring at him in shock. "You had the love of your life in front of you, willing to travel with you to the ends of the earth if need be, and you said 'no'?" She could hardly control herself as she glowered at him.

"I mean just that. I did not go with her." His eyes stared back, challenging, the darkness returned to him. "I told her that I had to think about it—that there were things I had to do. I couldn't just leave my father like that...since my mother passed on, only he and I remained at the house. Did I have the right to indulge myself like that, at my father's expense?"

"Yes!" Kimiko shouted, screaming in his face. "You had every right to do that!" She sat, regaining her composure, pulling the covers up to cover her up to the neck. "You didn't have a right to turn her down though."

Kiyoshi nodded, glancing at his feet. "You're right of course." He looked back up at her, finishing his tale. "She said she understood, dropped her staff and the handkerchief which I keep in my pocket to this day. She married a stranger that next day. Her father had arranged a marriage for her, and until she met me, she had resigned herself to never love anyone."

He fell silent after that, fingering the scarf in his pocket. Kimiko could not respond, yet she felt the need to offer some sort of comfort, especially after her earlier criticism. She brushed the scarlet bangs from her eyes, and he looked at her, nodding.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, and she looked into his steel gray eyes. They were flushed with tears. Yet he did not shy his face from her in embarrassment as she would have.

"Don't be," he replied calmly as a tear streaked down his right cheek. "It's long past, but wounds to the heart never completely heal. I may not know what you're going through, but I know how it feels to love someone and then lose them." He lowered his head and the tear fell from his face, absorbed by the bed. "I never saw her again after that. I didn't have the courage to face her for my crimes, and it ate away at me until I became the sociopath you knew me to be before." Raising his head, he smiled. "Don't let the pain eat you from the inside out. I became an uncaring monster, and that slowly turned to perversion—I did not care how others felt about it." He paused for a moment.

"I won't," Kimiko lied, as she could already feel the gnawing pain within her, love forever lost, burning away virtue, sparing only vice. Her thoughts returned to her own situation, agony from its poisoned blade seeping into her, coursing through her veins. Still reeling from the news of Akane's new life, she regarded her own. With but a few friends, she had dared to hope to overcome the emptiness.

"Don't even think that life is over just because your fiancée married someone else," Kiyoshi told her as if reading her thoughts. "I know you, Ranma Saotome, and I know you to be a fighter, to the death if required of you." Her name burned in her mind as he continued, "If I were to tell you that the world was going to end tomorrow, and nothing you can do would stop it, would you even try?"

Kimiko considered his question for a moment, and then answered. "Of course. You know how many times I've heard that?" The scowl she did not even know was there dissipated from her face and a lopsided grin took its place.

"Well, now fate is telling you that you will never love another again, and that your life is over. Are you just going to roll over and die?"

"No!" she replied, throwing away the covers in outrage. "Of course I'm not giving up! Not when..." She paused, realizing what she had been about to say. Not when her revenge lay unfulfilled.

"Not when what, Kimiko?" he whispered harshly. "Not when you still have a score to settle with a man who has eighteen years on you? Not when you have to train to be able to defeat him? Now when what? Or not when you still have a life to live, love to find, and friends to be with?"

"I don't know, Kiyoshi," she whispered, gathering the sheets around her again. "I just don't know. I never once imagined my life without Akane. I was so confident that a miracle would pull me through this, and we'd live happily ever after like it's supposed to be." Shaking her head, she continued. "How many times do I have to tell myself it's over? How long must I delude myself like Kunou did? I bet he still wonders where the evil sorcerer Saotome has taken his pigtailed girl, but even he's not crazy enough to think that anything's going to happen after eighteen years!"

"Not unless Gosunguki's heir hits you with a working love spell, and the first person you see is Kunou," Kiyoshi pointed out with a grin.

Staring at him for a moment, she tried to comprehend his words with her anger-clouded mind. Then, she suddenly burst out into laughter, clutching her sides.

"Oh God, that wasn't funny," she hoarsely whispered between gasps for air. "That's why you're a stuffy business man, and not a comedian."

"Hey," Kiyoshi protested. "At least it broke your 'poor me' speech."

"I was not feeling sorry for myself!" Kimiko snapped, frowning. "I was simply saying...oh, you're right." She wiped her eyes with her arm and shrugged. "So what should I do now, all-knowing, super-intelligent leader?"

With an ominous smile, Kiyoshi slid off the back of her bed, still facing her. As he drew backwards, opening the door, he turned. "Go to sleep."

"Ahh!" she cried, throwing a pillow at the door as he shut it behind him. Sitting upright still, Kimiko felt neither the desire nor the need to sleep more. She felt strangely energetic for minimal sleep and an exhausting previous day. Looking at the digital clock by her bedside, she read, "3:54."

Shaking her head, she wondered aloud, "After all of that, he expects me to sleep?"


The neon lights of Tokyo lit the predawn morning, leaving no room for the natural darkness. Something about the city always left him feeling nauseous. Whether the putrid, carbon monoxide-polluted air, the perpetual motion of vehicles through its streets, or the thumping, sickly, out-of-tune music burning his ears, the city always found a new way to disgust him, every time he found his way back. If it had been a choice of his, he never would return, but fate always led him here.

Although not nearly as bad as the day, Tokyo nights were still more busy than most urban centers of the world. Passing more than a few love hotels, the man repressed a shudder just at the thought of the filth which must pass through their doors every day and night.

Could he have found any worse place to be this night? Simply being in Japan reminded him of his family, and that was never a good thing. It was far better to be lost where he did not even know the language, where his concerns only consisted of finding his next meal, or finding shelter to avoid the rain. Here in Tokyo, he had a place, and somehow he always found it.

The streets were devoid of people, except for the occasional neon-armored enforcer. Those were just another reason to avoid this Godforsaken city. They would always demand to see his papers, and even after double-checking them with their magic little portable computer scanners, they would still call into their headquarters for a third check. Even then, they would most likely follow him until they satisfied their tiny little minds that he planned no misdeeds.

An enforcer was approaching him now, the bright red baton lit with stunning electricity, helmet and face shield glowing with enough light to bestow the officer with night vision and a portable computer screen. When his eldest son was no higher than his knee, the child had declared to the world that he would be the "bestest" law enforcer ever. He still thanked the heavens that his son had changed his mind, because it seemed to him that the equipment killed brain cells. Not one of these jokers ever took his word, or even his papers, at face value.

The neon red enforcer held out his baton when the distance between them was only about ten feet. A light, very feminine voice called out to him through the amplification of her shoulder speaker. "What are you doing out here this early?"

"Minding my own business," he replied coldly, provoking her for lack of anything better to do. Maybe this one would try to push her magic wand at him. That would be very much fun, especially when he saw the look on her face when she realized the weight he carried in society.

"Show me your identification papers," she stated neutrally, much to his disappointment. There would be no fight with her this morning.

From an easy-to-reach spot in his jacket pocket, he retrieved the small card and the curfew breach authorization papers, and then handed them to her. Although he did not need to show the papers, since the card contained the information when it was scanned, he carried it anyway, more to show that he had not stolen the identification card than anything else.

The enforcer did not even consider the paper; rather, she simply scanned the card with the bracelet on her wrist. They waited a moment, and then the activity on her red-tinted face shield showed that it was checked with her computer.

"Thank you, sir," she replied cordially, handing him his papers. "Sorry for the inconvenience. Have a nice morning."

With a brash nod, the man walked past the officer, continuing his aimless journey. A huge digital clock on a large tower on his left read 4:37. The city streets were so bright that it could have been noon for all he would have been able to tell, except for the lack of the sun. No clouds shrouded the night sky; but instead there was the glare of a hundred million burning streetlights and buildings, all reflected on the haze of smog. The moon tonight was barely bright enough to be noticeable in the sky.

It would be dawn within an hour or two. Hopefully, he would be out of the city by then, but he doubted it. Something always had to happen before he could leave again. That probably meant going home. If that would be his fate, so be it. He would face his wife and his children, no matter how better off they were without him.


5:12.

Kimiko waited while every second passed by, silently lying in the darkness. Even with the comforter and sheets thrown to the foot of the bed, the enclosed warmth of the room was still quite uncomfortable. Thoroughly plastered to her chest with sweat, the huge shirt she wore made it all the harder to fall asleep. Considering the day before and her lack of rest, she would have thought herself to be sleeping soundly by now. Twisting restlessly, she turned on her side.

It was safe to assume she would not be falling asleep any time soon, so she sat up in her bed, swinging her feet over the edge. She thought about what to do, since there were still several hours until dawn. According to Kiyoshi, Tokyo now had a strict curfew, which could not be broken without legal permission. Although it was still dark, she doubted that it would still be in effect.

"Lights," she whispered, warding the darkness with the voice-activated globe in the center of the bedroom.

Before meeting Kiyoshi, she would never have even conceived of such luxurious accommodations. To say that she enjoyed it was completely off base. For her, someone who was used to the bare minimum in the ways of comfort, the hotel symbolized what she was not and had never had. Having one's own personal bathroom attached to a room, which was bigger than most living rooms, took a little getting adjusting to. As she stood, she was tempted to walk into the hall to find the bathroom, but swiftly redirected herself.

Finding the sink, she put her hands underneath the faucet, activating the cold water. It was so chilled that it stung her skin, as if the pipes were frozen, spitting out fine chunks of ice rather than water. Soap automatically mixed with the water as it grew warm, something which took an even greater amount of getting used to than having her own bathroom; after which, the plain water then coursed out, rinsing her hands clean. As she removed her them from the sink, the water ceased. The wonders of technology seemed to be designed for the lazy.

Stripping to her panties, Kimiko walked to the shower and turned it on. Hot water immediately flowed from the head, steaming as it met with the cool air in the bathroom.

"Cold," she stated.

As she tested it with her hand, the stream of water almost instantly changed in temperature, from tolerably hot to icy cold, just the way she liked it. Shedding the final garment, she plunged herself face first into the near freezing water. After the uncomfortable, sweaty lack of sleep, this was like a breath of fresh air.

Minutes after cleaning properly, Kimiko was dressed in sweats and sneakers ready to take a real breath of fresh air, although Tokyo was hardly the place for it. It felt odd being up so early, especially considering the time she would usually wake. After a brief elevator ride, she walked into the lobby and up to the front desk.

"Madam?" the concierge asked after sipping from a cup of steaming hot coffee.

"If my brother, Kiyoshi Nishiyama, asks where I went," she began, beginning some leg stretches, "tell him I went for a jog."

"Of course, Nishiyama-san," the man replied with a nod. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, and thanks," she concluded, leaving the hotel.

Expecting the darkness of the early morning, Kimiko had forgotten that she was in Tokyo, the most annoyingly bright city in the world. The night felt like day. Heavy clouds covered the sky, illuminated dark purple by the city's lights, masking the moon and the stars, though the latter would have been washed out regardless. The streets were practically devoid of pedestrians, though cars streaked by in an endless chain of shiny metal.

The air was thick with carbon monoxide pollution, but she could ignore the sour odor for a while. When she had asked the front desk about places to run when she had first arrived, the attendant had mentioned a park that was not too far from the hotel, and from his description, she was under the impression that it had cleaner air than the rest of the city and was a pleasant place to exercise. She would have preferred a nice spar with one of the twins—both, if she had not still been sore from yesterday—but a nice run would help with her sore muscles. In fact, Kimiko thought that she even remembered the park.

As she began her jog at a brisk pace across the paved concrete sidewalks, Kimiko read the different neon signs. She was glad to be back in Japan, where she did not have to think about all of the letters before understanding them. Japanese and English mixed about as well as oil and water, but she was beginning to decipher them on paper with similar proficiency. Unfortunately, though, so much had changed in the Japanese language that the Kanji on some of the signs were unfamiliar, sending her right back to feeling like an outsider.

But she was an outsider, technically. According to her visa, she was a citizen of the United States, not Japan. Just speaking the language had not been enough to alleviate the prejudice, and make one an accepted resident of Japan. As of yet, she had not experienced any problems in this regard. Had the city, the people, changed that much?

The difficulty, or lack thereof, seemed inconsequential compared to the reality shaping around her. Just as the streets widened and the skyscrapers became sparse, she wondered if her horizons, her future, had yet been determined. Never a firm believer in any religion, Kimiko had long ago decided to make herself the best person she could in order to avoid the issue of devoting oneself to a particular religion in order save one's soul.

That did not mean she had not looked into a few of the more popular ones. Many were recipes for predestination: the idea that the fate of humans was determined by some divine being or beings; the others called for the free will of humans, undetermined by the divine. The whole idea of it made her want to stop thinking about things that she would never be able to discover while still breathing, though at times she could not help wondering.

Was it fate, some divine presence, that had brought things together as they'd turned out—her separation from the ones she had loved and the subsequent reunion—or was it just a random act set forth by the major players in her life? She could not help but wonder why everything had had to end as it had, forever tearing her from Akane and forever sealing away that part of herself she so desired back.

Stopping at a four-way intersection, Kimiko stood, waiting for the light to change. She looked around, and seeing no one around, she jogged across the street. Not breathing heavily yet, she picked up the pace as she ran across the squared concrete of Tokyo city. Around the corner, the park awaited her.

"Give me your hand, Ranma," Akane had said to her so many years ago at the same spot that Kimiko now intended to visit. The memory seemed locked within folds of metal, each having been slowly unwrapped with every moment she'd spent in Japan and around the Tendous.

"Why?" Ranma had demanded, effectually driving his foot down his mouth.

"Fine, then!" Akane had replied, spinning around and charging into the park. "You can walk by yourself, baka."

"Wait up, Akane! I didn't mean it!"

Realizing that she had stopped, Kimiko cleared her throat and headed in the park's direction. The gates to the only green in a city of metal and concrete stood a block and a half from her, and she began sprinting, as if they would close, forever locking her out.

"Why should I?" Akane's voice had cried out as she rushed through the gates. An almost childlike giggle was what had followed Akane's feigned anger. "I'm going to beat you there, Ranma!"

"No way!" Ranma had yelled, running after her as fast as he could.

Chasing the phantoms of her past, Kimiko gritted her teeth as she ran towards the gates. Even now she could see herself chasing Akane through them. Heedless of her path, she charged down the sidewalk, concentrating on nothing but catching the two, a fleeting memory of a past that was rightfully hers. As they disappeared from her sight, she slammed into the metal bars of the closed gate with her arms extended.

"Wait for me!" Kimiko cried out, shaking the bars with all of her strength. "Don't leave me..."

Footsteps echoed softly, slowly growing louder with the approach of a stranger. She looked up as fresh tears blurred her vision, having yet to slide down her cheeks. An elderly man wearing dreary gray clothes and a wide brown hat stopped in front of her on the other side of the closed gates. He smiled warmly.

"Please, don't cry, miss," he whispered, retrieving a key chain from his pants pocket. With his other hand, he took a handkerchief from the pocket of his gray shirt. Pushing it through the bars of the gate, he handed it to her. "There, wipe those pretty eyes dry."

"Thank you, sir," she replied, drying around her eyes. She handed it back when she finished. "Could you please open the gate?"

"Of course," he agreed, smiling warmly. He selected a key from the mass of metal dangling from the keyring in his hand. Methodically pushing it into the lock, he then twisted it. With a creak, the gate lurched back slightly. "What is your name, young lady?"

Smiling despite herself, Kimiko helped him open the gates. "I'm Kimiko Nishiyama." After bowing to the man, she pushed the gates open until they locked into place.

"I am Hitoshi Yoshida, the caretaker of this garden." Resting up against the gate, he paused. "What brings you here so early, Nishiyama-san?"

Two light posts stood on either side of them, shining down so brightly that the old man was forced to squint, causing his bushy white brows to envelop his eyes. The man had two shadows, both barely visible, like the gray of his clothes up against the white of the sidewalk. They stood pointing away from each other, which if looked at in a certain way, appeared to be shaped as a Y, with Yoshida-san as the base of the letter and the two shadows as the V standing atop of him.

"I was just jogging," Kimiko told him, staring down at her shoes. "I didn't know that the garden closed at all. I'm sorry if I'm early."

"Oh, don't worry," Hitoshi replied, waving her in. "I'm just sorry that I have to close the garden at all. Those with nowhere else to go used to stay here at night, but the authorities did not like that, so they ordered us to close the garden after sundown until dawn." Wiping his forehead with his hand, he shook his head. "It's really a shame. Even the unfortunate should be able to enjoy the flowers, even if they only mean to sleep among them."

The two walked down the gravel path through a thick grove of trees. The park was almost surreal in the midst of such a large city, containing that which had ceased to exist everywhere else. Breathing in deeply, Kimiko enjoyed how sweet the air seemed, almost untouched by the polluters of the city. A light fog crept over their heads as they walked the path, but Kimiko barely noticed in her enjoyment.

"I didn't know they grew flowers here," she remarked, watching each step she took, as her foot rose and fell, kicking up just a bit of dirt with every one.

"When was the last time you visited the garden?" Hitoshi asked as he walked beside her.

"It's been a long time," she admitted, not willing to tell him just how many years it really had been. "I was little at the time, I guess."

"Oh," he replied, stopping as they reached a fork intersection. "Why don't we head towards lake?"

"Okay," she agreed, following his lead.

The sound of a bubbling brook trickling through the thick grove of trees echoed in the distance off to her right as they took the left path. Neatly divided in half by the path, the trees were an obvious addition, because the last time Kimiko had been here, there were only a few. A field of green grass in all directions, with only the buildings in the horizon was the sight that would have been seen here twenty years ago.

"You'll never catch me, Ranma!" Akane had shouted back as she sprinted across the field. Her yellow dress rippled in the wind like a flag flown in the sky above. As Akane held onto her hat, her image raced past Kimiko, shortly followed by the image of her former self. He wore his usual outfit of black pants and a red Chinese shirt. Kimiko looked at the gardener to see if he had seen the specters, but the old man did not appear to notice them.

"I used to own a flower shop," Hitoshi told her, keeping his pace beside her. "Flowers are good for the spirit. Their essence is both physically and spiritually rejuvenating. I owe my health to them." He paused, rubbing his chilled arms. "When my shop closed, I was offered a position here to tend the new flower garden they had planted. That was shortly after they imported these wonderful trees."

Though she had not forgotten about her jog, she was enjoying listening to the gardener talk about the park. He imparted many details about the beautiful place as they walked down the path leading towards the lake in the garden's center.

He stopped as they reached the enchanting lake, surrounded by benches like an encirclement of rocks around the comfortable warmth of a campfire. The lampposts filling the park shone brightly, reflecting of the serene water. With summer's late dawn, artificial light would spew here for hours yet, dispelling the natural feel of the garden.

"Please enjoy yourself here, Nishiyama-san. If you need anything, I'll be in the garden just west of here."

"Thank you, Yoshida-san," Kimiko said. "I'm sure I will."

With that said, the two parted, the gardener to his flowers and Kimiko to jog alongside the memories of her past.

The dirt trail softly crunched beneath her feet with every step she took. Her surroundings blurred as she practically threw herself down the path around the lake. Her lungs burned with each breath of cold air she inhaled through her nose.

Controlling one's breathing was the key to longevity of one's stamina. That she had learned as a small child, her father the teacher, the endless road the obstacle.

Following directly behind Kimiko, a black shadow ran just as quickly as she did, mimicking her steps perfectly. It grew darker as it caught up to her, running beside her. She glanced at it casually, watching it pass her with just as much ease. Lighter and lighter it became as it drifted from her. Just as the first had, a second shadow slowly materialized behind her, running swiftly on her heels. As the second gained definition, the first lost its, slowly vanishing on the dirt trail.

Turning to look at the second shadow, Kimiko accelerated her pace, tearing down the path with abandon. Fated to be caught, she looked down, watching it quickly catch up to her, to run beside her as the first had moments before. Sliding to a halt on her heels, Kimiko stared down at the shadow, which had only a slight lead on her, but it had stopped as well. She turned, barely making out the form of a third shadow waiting to take shape and join the race.

The first shadow had passed her, left her behind and then vanished; it was the past. The second now stood beside her, strong and healthy; it was the present. The third shadow was only an image in the distance, unclear and its shape undetermined; it was the future.

What shape would the third take? Would it be more similar to the first, or the second? Time, it seemed to her, was the enemy, a timer with no pause button, a race with no break or end. There were no breathers for her this time. She could only pray that she would be able to keep up.

But was time really the enemy? She wondered. It could just have been an illusion to keep her from making the right choice.

Lily had warned her of three challenges; what were they? Kiyoshi had told her that something dangerously wrong was approaching. Could that have been what the spirit had warned her about?

As she ran, Kimiko thought of Kiyoshi for a moment, remembering their talks and all the advice her had given her. It warmed her thinking about him, because somehow he had become a part of her life, so entrenched that she could not face her past without him. As much as it wounded her pride to need someone, Kimiko found it easy to swallow when it concerned Kiyoshi. It had only recently occurred to her that it was love that allowed her to do that.

Love was such an ambiguous term to her, especially now that she could feel it without the fear of abandonment. Coming to terms with something like that was difficult, but somewhere along the line, it had ceased to be an issue. 'If' was replaced with 'when', and hesitation with assurance. Fear of being close to Kiyoshi dissipated completely. How could she even think of it when he had opened himself up so fully to her?

Only one real concern remained in her, but it was so deep that she had very little knowledge of it: becoming too close. There were so many factors involved in their relationship. From Kiyoshi's former identity, to her insecurity with her natural, if unaccepted sexual preference, to any number of other things, she knew it would be impossible. Perhaps that was why Kimiko had allowed herself to become very close to Kiyoshi; a closer relationship was a virtual impossibility. She could hug, kiss or sleep next to him without any fear of his intentions.

That casual love relieved immense amounts of stress that had built up on her shoulders. She had never known how good it could feel to be completely accepted by someone, without fear of rejection. Her relationship with Akane had been the opposite, built up on mutual distrust that had only bloomed a few months before Ranma's sudden departure. She could never have told Akane everything as she could with Kiyoshi. One wrong word would have left her pounded to the floor like one Akane's straw dummies.

Laughter echoed from behind Kimiko, causing her to slow, and then stop. She turned around, watching Akane quickly run past her. The teenage Akane stopped only a few feet from where Kimiko stood, panting. Ranma almost barreled into her as he came charging down the way, but managed to halt mere inches from her.

"Told you I'd win, Ranma." The words spoken by Akane carried well and were honey to Kimiko's ears.

"You just got lucky, that's all," Ranma muttered, kicking at the dirt with his foot. He looked up and smiled.

Of course, Kimiko knew that she had let Akane win that day. Seeing the pride on Akane's face had been worth throwing the race.

Slowing her breathing, Akane shook her head. "It wasn't luck, and to prove it, I'll race you to the lake!" She quickly turned and bolted straight through the trees, where an empty field should have been.

"Cheater!" Ranma yelled at her as he ran to catch up.

Kimiko only frowned as she, too, sprinted to follow. Exactly as she had remembered it, Kimiko watched Ranma sweep Akane off her feet and carry her all the way down to the lakeside. Their laughter filled the silence of the early morning park as Kimiko caught up to the couple.

Walking with Akane still held close in his arms, Ranma smiled. Kimiko dashed up to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. Though he did not notice or turn back, Kimiko felt him. She quickly released him in shock, staring as he walked up to the lake and set Akane down. Shaking off her surprise, the redhead leapt to sit beside them, hoping they would not disappear.

"Can you hear me?" Kimiko asked as the two sat by the lakeside. "Please, Ranma, Akane, can you hear me?" Neither responded.

With great curiosity, Kimiko slid to lie next to Akane as the two lay there on their backs, staring up at the sky. Three lay there, but only one saw nothing but darkness and a hazy purple sky. Although a mixture of orange and gray poked out in the east, it would probably take the sun hours to burn away the clouds enough to be spotted. Kimiko only sighed.

"What is going on?" Her words sounded strange, spoken against the silence of everything else. "Why does this stuff have to torture me like this?"

Akane stirred, brushing up against Kimiko's arm.

"Huh?" the dark-haired girl whispered.

"What is it?" Ranma asked, sitting up.

Kimiko looked at Akane with wide eyes as the girl looked straight through her.

"I could have sworn I felt something touch my arm," Akane told him. "Never mind it. Must've been my imagination."

"I was scared it was Shampoo, or Ukyou, or someone," Ranma whispered, laying his head back. "Or worse, Happosai."

Akane still stared through Kimiko. The redhead had yet to take her eyes away from the Akane. Wondering if it would work again, Kimiko drew her finger across Akane's left shoulder slowly. Her heart beat faster than drums in a heavy metal band.

"There it is again!" Akane cried, looking around. "It touched my shoulder this time!"

Ranma sat up quickly and leaned over Akane, swiping his arms at the air, barely missing a dodging Kimiko.

"Nothing," Ranma told her. Still leaning over her, he looked down with a grin.

"What are you smiling at?" Akane asked, looking up at him with shiny eyes.

"Nothing," Ranma sighed, lying back again.

That was the moment Kimiko realized this had not happened to her and Akane when they had been lying by the lake that day. Their moment had ended about ten minutes later when clicks from a camera from behind them soiled the moment, but she did not remember that exchange.

Perhaps Kimiko was changing her past?

More daring this time, the redhead stood and walked around to Ranma. His eyes were closed as the warm sun, which Kimiko could not see or feel, shone down upon him. Akane looked similar, though she occasionally glanced over her left shoulder. Sitting close enough to kiss her former self, Kimiko stared at Ranma's carefree face. Swinging one leg over to Ranma's left, and leaving the other on his right, she held herself, hovering over him with her hands that pressed against the cold grass beside his head. The sticky wetness of dew wedged itself between her fingers as she stared down at him. How would he react to feeling someone on top of him, assuming he felt it at all?

What am I doing? Kimiko thought, teeth chattering above her former persona.

In that very second, Ranma opened his eyes, quickly focusing them on Kimiko who could do nothing but stare. It took no more than a second, but as Ranma sat up, Kimiko felt herself being seized by strong arms.

"Who...?" Ranma's question suddenly cut off as his back arched with a spasm.

There was a moment when even the artificial light from the lamps above her disappeared, leaving her in total darkness. The very next moment, she lay staring up at the bright blue sky. Sitting up slowly, Kimiko looked in amazement over the clear blue lake and the vast fields of green of her memory.

"Ranma, are you okay?" Akane looked at Kimiko with concern, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Looking down at herself, Kimiko saw a set of clothes so lost to her; she had thought the comfortable feel of them would never be hers again. The red shirt and black pants of her past covered her body loosely like they always had. Wrapping her arms around herself, Kimiko felt her body. A flat, muscular chest first met her hands, and she nearly coughed in surprise.

Taking Kimiko's shoulder with her other hand, Akane pulled her so they faced each other.

"What the heck is wrong with you, Ranma?" Mild irritation bubbled in Akane's voice.

"I...I...I..." Kimiko's voice was lost to her as she fought to take control of the emotions bursting within her.

"What is it, Ranma? Tell me!" Concern colored her eyes as Akane stared in Kimiko's eyes.

Pausing, Kimiko found her center, her balance, and her calm. Energy welled up within her as she placed her hands over Akane's. Three words that she had not spoken for such a long time, more heartfelt than she had ever spoken them resounded from her mouth.

"I love you," she whispered to Akane.

It was a sucker punch to the dark-haired girl that she had not seen coming. A month earlier than the original date they had been spoken, the words echoed in Kimiko's mind over and over. God, how she'd waited to say that again. Giving Akane a moment to collect her wits, Kimiko only reached up, brushing her hand against Akane's face.

"Ranma?" Akane's whisper was hoarse, her eyes and mouth wide, face pale.

"Yes, Akane?"

Breaking their eye contact, Akane dropped her arms to her sides and shied her face from Kimiko.

"There's something I have to tell you." A hundred thousand responsibilities seemed to weigh down on Akane's shoulders she spoke. A tear spilled onto her cheek before she continued.

"I'm listening," Kimiko told her true love, burning with passion for the girl in front of her.

"I'm so sorry," Akane said, crawling away quickly, but stumbling as she attempted to stand up. "God, I'm so sorry."

"Wait, Akane! Don't leave!" Kimiko stood, catching Akane in a hug before she could get away. "What are you sorry for?"

Akane could not look up, her eyes turned towards the lake. Her voice was lifeless and barely sounded recognizable. Her words were something else entirely:

"It's too late...I'm already married to Ryouga..."

In one breath, Akane did what no one had ever done before. She totally annihilated every ounce of fight within Kimiko's soul. Even as Kimiko, in Ranma's body, fell to the grass in agony, Akane took off across the ocean of green. The wet dew met her entire body this time, triggering the change.

"It's not supposed to be like this," she sobbed, unable to hold back the flooding emotion. It felt as if her entire soul was tainted by the distorted reality she existed within, but when she finally lifted her face from the grass, she took a deep breath. The warmth of the sun had faded away, leaving her in the wet, early morning dew, wearing her sweats and stuck in the present once more.

Her teeth chattered as she pulled herself to her feet. With tears sliding down her cheeks, she breathed in rapidly, unable to shrug off the after effect of adrenalin, leaving her shaking in her running shoes.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Kimiko demanded, palming her forehead as if to massage a headache.

Relaxing her body and slowing her breathing, she regained her bearings. Standing right where she had imagined herself to be in the past, Kimiko scanned the garden. Trees blocked the way she had come, but the lake lay spread out before her, with the path around it. A bench, no more than fifty feet along one side of the lake, beckoned her. A light post stood next to it on the path, as if a spotlight for whoever would sit on the bench.

Kimiko trudged over to the wooden bench and plopped herself down on the right side of it, causing the flimsy boards to creak in protest. Flopping her right elbow down on the rusted iron armrest, she propped her head on her hand. Exhaling sharply, she closed her eyes against the burning brightness of the light.

"Tell me, Lily," Kimiko began nonchalantly. "What in God's name is going on with me? I can't walk two steps without hallucinating, and it's just getting worse!"

Silence answered her question.

"Come on!" she growled, wiping her face with the sleeve of her left arm. "I'm not talking to myself, you know. I know you're out there, doing whatever it is you spirits do. Show yourself!"

As if she were King Arthur beckoning forth the Lady of the Lake, to claim the magical Excalibur from the depths of its watery sheath, out Lily appeared from the water, glowing with a faint white aura. Kimiko tried to keep her face neutral, as the specter appeared, slowly walking towards her. She could only wonder if Lily had to appear like that, or if it was just for effect. Either way, it intimidated Kimiko very much.

The ghost drew forward, skimming the surface of the water, and then the ground, as if they were frozen over and she was a block of ice sliding across. Sitting up straight, Kimiko froze with her eyes wide. As Lily came close enough to see her form, Kimiko realized that she could barely make out her features, as if she were displayed white on white, with only the fuzzy picture of an out-of-focus snapshot.

When the specter hovered at the edge of the water, she stopped, as if blocked by an invisible shield. With a slow come-hither wave, the spirit beckoned Kimiko.

Suddenly fearful of her choice to summon the spirit, she stood and walked towards her.

"A dark soul comes this way," a voice hissed, seemingly from all directions, although the ghost had spoken the words. "You must—" Her words were cut off, as if she were on television and someone had muted the volume of her speech.

"What, Lily?" she asked, stopping right in front of the ghost. "I can't hear you. Speak up."

The ghost's eyes opened wide and she covered her mouth with her hands in surprise, and then as suddenly as she had appeared, she vanished without a trace. Kimiko reeled at the development. Was the spirit unable to communicate now? She had been so easy to talk with before.

"Lily? Are you still here?" Kimiko scanned in all directions, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. "Okay, I'll look out for this dark soul, but what must I do?" So much for spiritual advice, she thought wryly.

Walking towards the bench, Kimiko shrugged.


Under the shadow of dead angels, he walked. Like a meteorite crashing down from the heavens, unable to stop its descent to shatter the earth beneath it, he traveled Fate's concrete path, without one thought to change it. He did not care in which direction he headed, preferring each destination to be a surprise. Whereas life could get you down, the road never told lies. For a black-hearted man such as he, truthful answers to questions were not ones he would usually give, and the lack of those were bliss for him.

"Why do you always have to travel, daddy?" The words of his children echoed in his mind. "I miss you, daddy!" "Please don't be gone long!" "Daddy, you're back!" "Daddy, I love you!"

How could he reply to that, to those innocent faces, as of yet untainted by the evil within him? Maybe running away made him a coward, but staying would only have endangered those around him.

Why was he fleeing to the road's cold embrace over his wife's warm one? That was a question he could not answer with certainty any longer. Five years ago he might have been able, but today nothing was the same. Only lingering guilt remained, for something that was more of a dream than a reality, paranoia perhaps. Feelings faded, memories blurred and pain vanished during his travels. Except for a few random and very brief appearances at his home in the past week, merely visits to his children, he really had no contact with his life left behind for the last few years. It hurt him to do that to them, the ones who counted most in his life, but something told him that he had to.

Somewhere beneath the flesh of his brain, deep within his subconscious, a dark memory afflicted his life with such pain that he might never recover his family and more importantly, his wife. Somewhere on the edge between of reality and fantasy, something fogged his perception with its teeth sunken into his lifeblood, draining away everything. Light and darkness mixed, creating endless shades of gray, never fully defining one or the other again. It eased the pain, but dimmed the pleasure he once had for life, a time that seemed so long ago.

Traveling left much time for thought, but he had yet to think of one thing since his brief encounter with the enforcer earlier that morning. What could he have thought about? How miserable he was? How much he missed his family? How much he wanted to stab himself in the gut? Dark thoughts led to dark actions, and dark actions led to more pain.

Stopping to look around for the first time in nearly an hour, he tried to regain his bearings, for what it was worth. Trees surrounded him, looming over him like judges at a sentencing. Somewhat sparse, the grove of thick green trees seemed out of place. Although the air smelled fresh and the grass was green, he knew that he had not escaped Tokyo completely.

"Worthless," he imagined them moaning in the wind. He turned his head, and continued walking. He had enough to deal with, without having to listen to a figment of his imagination.

The voices continued, as if the verdict were already in, and they were merely rubbing his nose in another dash of misery before telling it to him, twisting the dagger in his gut before finally finishing him off. "You cause pain to those around, and yet you run away! Run away to avoid more pain! Worthless coward!" For a figment of his imagination, they certainly sounded real, like someone whispering from inside the trees.

"Shut up," he fiercely whispered, sprinting through the grove, as if trying to outrun a train.

"You are a murderer and a thief! You hold nothing sacred except yourself! No one will mourn your death, you pathetic mongrel!"

"Shut up!" he defiantly cried back at them. "I'm doing what's best for my family! NOW GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

His last words still echoed as he realized he was alone, in a sea of grass, the sun shining bright and warm. He felt lighter, happier, suddenly rejuvenated, as if he had been given another chance at correcting the wrongs in his life. When the crystal shine of the lake caught his eye, he experienced an extreme sense of déjà vu. He spun, searching for the grove of trees he had been in, scanning everywhere, but saw nothing but the lake and endless green.

"Where am I?" he asked himself.

"You are in paradise," a sarcastic, deep voice replied. It sounded like the voice of the trees, but without the distant, hollow echo.

Of course, he saw no one as he turned only to face nothing. A growing sense of dread filled him as he stood, staring straight out at the lake, as if that were the origin of the voice speaking to him.

"Why am I here?" He waited without reply, calling out to the spirits again. "Where is this? Speak to me!" Anger began to seethe in him. Pure, genuine rage at those that would crucify him without stated cause, without reason. He burned from within, as if the negative emotions within him had been lit aflame, like a bonfire of wood surrounding an accused witch. His last question was not much more than a whisper, a faint hope that something would answer his plea. "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" the voice mocked, echoing as if all around him. "Who you are, is a better question to ask. Who am I, he asks. Who am I...?" The words faded into an evil cackle, as if he had asked an absurd question. The laughter died shortly thereafter, leaving the rustle of the wind and the silence of an abyss.

"Please tell me why I'm here?" The man stared at the nothingness around him. "You owe me that much! Please?"

"Owe you?" the voice asked. "I suppose I do. You released me after all. You are here to feel anger again, to remember the pain, the love, and the hatred! You will remember everything and nothing! Are you ready? Are you ready for the misery of a thousand years of torture and imprisonment?"

"Fate willing," he replied, ready to meet the consequences of his actions, to taste blind justice at the end of an executioner's axe. He could do nothing but succumb to the will of the supernatural voice, for it held all the cards, and he was just a Jack in the beginning of a straight. If he had to learn the answer to his painful riddle, perhaps it would aid him in repairing the hurt in his soul.

"Fate does not exist," was the beginning of his reply. Each word spoken reeked of anger and perhaps a touch of remorse. "Choices forge the man. Each decision determines whether the soul is harvested, or tossed away. Fate is a cop out, reserved for those who would try to pin the consequences of themselves or others on some imaginary force. There is no almighty God, no divine savior. The men who perform the miracles are still men!

"Open your eyes to the reality around you, for everything is going to change for the worse if you allow it. Death stalks the Earth with its crimson blade, and your name is now on its list."

As the last word was spoken, the traveler, his guise pale, watched two figures cross the sea of grass, one chasing the other. Their path was straight, but it took what seemed to be hours for them to make it to the lakeside. He reeled in surprise as the earth beneath him rose, like the creation of a new mountain watched in fast-forward. Though his new vantage gave him a better view of the couple, the traveler took a few hesitant steps forward, unsure if it was wise to move.

"Go ahead," the voice insisted.

"Go on, daddy!" the voice of his daughter whispered, tickling his ear, its origin seemed so close. The two were shortly followed with a variety of voices, spoken by friends and family.

He still stood there, legs held fast to the ground.

"What are you waiting for?" the voice hissed. "FATE WILLS IT!"

His laboriously slow descent down the green hill granted him a few minutes of peace. The teenage couple had lain in the grass by the lake, serenely staring up at the sky. He wondered what he could possibly learn from them. He could not have been more than fifty feet away when the male sat up and leaned over his partner. The traveler assumed they would kiss, but instead, the child simply waved his hands around the female's shoulder, as if warding a malicious spirit.

"What are you smiling at?" The light female voice echoed from the two's position. The young man's reply did not carry the distance as he lay back down.

When the traveler came to within thirty feet, he had to squint his eyes to make out some hazy shape hovering a scant few inches above the young man. It glowed with a strange mix of red and white, blurring pink in parts, but still retained a vaguely human shape. It had suddenly just been over the young man's body, as if it previously was there, except he had not seen it until now. As he walked across the next five feet, the young man sat up, trying to grab hold of the specter above him. When the two met, a flash of light forced him to turn away and shelter his eyes with his hand.

The traveler quickly turned his head back to see the young man's back arch in a painful spasm, and then fall onto the grass again.

"Ranma, are you okay?" the female asked, putting a hand on her companion's shoulder.

Ranma. The name echoed in the man's mind for a brief moment, as if searching for the right crayon in the box. Ranma. It was a name of a person he had forgotten existed, or had chosen to forget. Either way, the lingering familiarity with the name bothered him. Ranma.

Taking the young man by the shoulders, the girl looked him in the eye. "What the heck is wrong with you, Ranma?"

Having the words spoken like that sparked a memory, or rather a feeling: anger going beyond what words can express. Also therein lay something else, something not quite so hateful as the other, but something worse, hundreds of times worse.

Reeling in the mixed emotions, the man strained to pay attention to what was being played out before him. The girl began to crawl away with tears streaming down her eyes, but the young man caught her in his arms gently. Words were exchanged, but they were spoken too soft for the traveler to hear.

Jumping to her feet, girl began to run towards him, not heeding her direction. The young man simply slumped onto his chest, right before vanishing into the ground as if he had never been. Not noticing the event, the girl merely ran forward, vainly wiping the tears from her eyes.

When ten feet were left between them, Ryouga recognized Akane.


Under a halo of radiant, artificial light, Kimiko sat on the hard wood bench. With no more intentions of finishing her jog, she kicked her feet up and planted them firmly on the dirt below. The cold air bit at her arms, it having already caused goosebumps to rise on her skin. Rubbing them briskly, she stood and took a deep breath, ready to jog back to the hotel.

The moment she stepped out of the ring of artificial lamplight, the dirt path beneath her feet shifted. The earth quaked violently as she was forced to crouch to keep from falling on her bottom. Followed swiftly by burning light all around her, she stared slack-jawed as the sun appeared over her at its zenith, as if it had been there the entire time. What can someone say to such an event...the grass shooting up around their feet, the very earth beneath them rising upwards and the all-too-sudden blast of sunlight?

It was a blow to Kimiko who had expected the hallucinations to be finished. Rising to her feet, she stooped over a valley of infinite green grass, endless but for the lake in its center. She simply was awestruck by the experience. The location of her dream of Akane and herself at the lake had suddenly grown to fantastic measures, truly straight out of some sci-fi movie, probably the only one she had not seen with Sally and her friends back in California.

Pleasant sunlight warmed her chilled flesh as she smiled at the welcome change of scenery, no matter how strange. Kimiko knelt down, running her fingers through the healthy, dry grass. Untying the laces to her sneakers, she looked down at the blue lake glistening in the sunlight like a sapphire. She kicked off her shoes and watched them tumble down the hill.

Squinting her eyes, she spied down the hill and noticed a figure down there for the first time. Though she could not make it out well, she knew it was a tall, darkly-dressed man with black hair. The large pack on his back gave him the appearance of a traveler. He stood down at the edge of the lake, staring into the waters.

With no other choice, she jogged down the hill, savoring the feeling of dry grass between her toes. She quickly passed her shoes and practically leapt to the bottom of the hill. The man did not see her, she noticed. His thick clothes strangely rippled in the warm wind, which could have hardly been considered much more than a breeze.

There could not have been any more than fifteen feet between them when she slowed to a walk so as not to alert him. He did not so much as stir at her approach. His thick black hair was short, obviously self-cut from its jagged, matted look. The thick, dark leather jacket he wore complete with matching pants made him look like someone right out of a comic.

He was much too tall for her short body and towered over her as she approached him. Though he appeared unaware of her, she somehow doubted it.

"Who are you?" His deep, tired voice was passive, totally unlike the image she had originally perceived of him from his appearance. He just looked like one of those playboy, self-asserting types.

Something about the man disturbed her.

The man spun on his heels, letting his pack slip from around him to the ground, all in one quick motion. His eyes flashed with rage, as he held one fist out, completing his stance just as quickly as he had spun. In describing his stance, she was completely at a loss. It was perfectly centered, leaving him totally defended without a chance of being struck. He had the balance and reflexes of a cat, and underneath the thick leather sleeves of his shirt, she could see his bulging muscles. If it had not been for the passivity he displayed, which totally undermined the threat he posed, she might have simply dropped into a guard, prepared to defend herself immediately.

"I'm—" she began, quickly stifling her own words at the strange pitch in which she spoke. Gone was the soft, high pitch it had retained for the past year, as it suddenly sounded very deep to her years. She almost put a hand over her own mouth, but refused to show her surprise, in case he was a threat.

"Ranma?" The man's face softened, his eyes grew wide and he almost completely dropped his defensive posture. He nearly shivered in surprise as he fell to his back leg.

Equally stunned by his reaction, she searched his face for recognition. The light fell upon his coarse face, but only barely. It was as if a veil of perpetual darkness remained over his face.

"Do I know you?" Again, her voice was strangely deep in pitch. With only one blink of surprise and a few skipped heartbeats, she realized the cause. No longer did he tower over her, and no longer were her body proportions the same. Without the black pants and Chinese shirt, she had regained her male form.

"It's me," the traveler told the confused young man before him. "It's Ryouga."

Real or dream, Kimiko had no answer for her former friend. Too many days had been spent trying to forget his existence for her to come to terms with meeting him now. The dark shadows under the man's eyes, and the weathered look of his skin were not nearly enough pain that she had wished upon him.

"Hello, Ryouga," Ranma said. He truly was Ranma now, if only for a few brief minutes before the dream ended.

"But you're..." The darkness returned to Ryouga's eyes, but still he retained his passivity.

Words flowed from Ranma's mouth then. Karma, retribution, was granted to him, even if it was merely a hallucination. Never before had he actually seen Ryouga in any of his dreams before, only other figures such as Akane, his parents, even Kunou once or twice.

"I'm what? I'm dead? Is that what you were going to say?" His demands affected Ryouga deeply, forcing him to fall back a step to the very edge between the narrow shoreline of dirt and rocks and the green grass.

"I'm sorry!" Ryouga screamed, kneeling to the ground in anguish. "I didn't mean for it to happen like that! I swear!"

All feeling except for adrenalin left Ranma's body. He looked down at the man with contempt, and only took one step forward, but that was enough to send Ryouga squirming in the dirt right next to the water.

"Please, I didn't want it to be like that! I didn't want to hurt you!" Actual tears flowed down the Lost One's eyes. He looked up with one pitiful glance, but quickly shied his eyes from Ranma.

"You didn't want to HURT me?" Ranma yelled back. "You knocked me off a cliff, Ryouga! What in God's name did you expect to happen?"

"Not...that..." the man whispered, trying desperately to hold onto the remains of his dignity. "Anyone but you, Ranma..."

Growling like a tiger, Ranma lunged forward and punted Ryouga into the lake. Anger drowned all logic as Ranma leapt in after. Even as he waded into the water, he strangely remained male, but took no notice.

"Do you know what I've been through, because of you?!" He screamed as he took a hold of Ryouga's collar and lifted him, several feet above his head. "Do you know how long I've waited to see you again?"

With empty eyes, Ryouga remained silent.

"Speak up, Ryouga! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" Throwing him over his shoulder, he turned to chase the projectile. Ryouga rolled in the air and gracefully landed on his feet. Less than a second later, Ranma pummeled into him with his fists, next blasting him with a slashing kick across the man's face. Spinning like an out-of-control dreidel, Ryouga fell to the ground.

"Get up!" Ranma yelled. "Fight me like the man you used to be!"

"SHUT UP!" Ryouga cried back as he bounced to his feet so fast, that Ranma failed to catch the motion. "I tried to help you, God damn it! You don't think I brought Jusenkyou water back for my health, do you? You don't think I carried you out of that sleazy bar for it either? Of all the people I've wronged in my life, it's hurting you I most regret! SO STOP HAUNTING ME!"

Ranma was too angry to respond verbally. He pounced upon Ryouga as fast as he could, meeting nothing but air as his opponent simply vanished from him. Overly-dominant foes always seemed to disappear before one's eyes, Ranma knew. He had done it to others so many times himself.

"Don't you think I've seen hell, too?!" Ryouga demanded, barely close enough to strike from Ranma's flank.

"You tried that the first time, P-chan!" Ranma growled, throwing himself shoulder-first at his still-recovering opponent, who merely vanished a second time. "Poor me! Poor me! You never see what you've really got, Ryouga!" Sensing the man behind him, Ranma reversed himself, and extended his leg straight with a snap, meeting the rock-hard flesh of his opponent.

Ryouga gasped as he stumbled back.

Giving him no chance to recover, Ranma brought his left leg up counterclockwise, snapping the blade of his foot against Ryouga's face. It was enough for Ryouga to fall onto his side, but the man had the elasticity of a rubber band, and was back on his feet before Ranma had a chance to follow through with his attack.

Screaming in torment, Ryouga drilled Ranma's chest with a snap of his fist, not hard enough to break anything, but more than enough to send Ranma flying a few feet, causing him to land on his back. Using the momentum of the punch, Ranma rolled back onto his feet, one hand holding his bruised chest.

"I'll not let you take me easily!" Ryouga cried, half raving mad. "You're not Ranma, are you?!" His voice was somewhere between laughing and screaming, as if they were one and the same. "It's ALWAYS you, isn't it?! I HATE YOU!"

"RENZOKUKEN!" Black energy burned around Ryouga's fists as they blurred towards Ranma. Initializing the Chestnut Fist to merely keep pace, Ranma blocked each stinging blow that came with the crazed man's charge. Although his technique did not match the speed Ranma easily achieved to block it, Ryouga continued his blurring assault well after Ranma would have stopped a Chestnut Fist attack.

"DIE!" Ryouga screamed as he pushed his attack forward.

Ranma screamed as Ryouga broke his defenses, mauling his body with countless punches. The force of the strikes sent Ranma flying backwards to plunge into the lake. Quickly pushing himself up, Ranma waded out of the water. Ryouga stood ten feet away, glowing darkly, his brown eyes replaced with black orbs.

"Mouko Takabisha!" Ranma yelled, unleashing his confidence against the swirl of madness around Ryouga, but it merely evaporated on contact.

"Throw away the disguise!" the man yelled at Ranma. "I know it's you!"

"I don't know what you're whining about," Ranma whispered, feeling his body with his hands. "But I don't care. I will get revenge for what you've done to me!"

"Funny," Ryouga commented, his words eerily calm as he drew in waves of black energy. "You look pitiful in Ranma's guise, declaring vengeance. He's not like that. You have NO RIGHT to slight him like that! I'll banish you for both our sakes!"

Although confused with Ryouga's words, Ranma knew that his intentions were blazingly evident.

"Oh God," he whispered before shutting away his fears for another Fierce Tiger Domineering blast. Somehow, he doubted Ryouga's chi-blast would be stopped.

"Renzoku Ki Ha," were the words spoken by the madman before the bolt of dark energy oozed from his body. It seemed to form into shape like slimy oil dripping from a car, and then without warning it surged forward.

"Mouko Takabisha!" The blue energy from Ranma's confidence was enough to deflect the dark blast enough for it to only scathe Ranma's worn body. It skimmed his right shoulder, melting away the clothing and part of his long hair that got in the way. Unfortunately, the dark energy blast kept coming. Ryouga shifted his stance to bring the pillar of energy crashing down into the water. Taking a deep breath, Ranma swam down, putting as much distance between himself and his attacker.

The cold water did not soothe the pain coursing through his shoulder, nor did it sate the burning sensation around his neck, though he barely felt the latter. It was so bright underneath the lake's surface that he could see Ryouga clearly, standing over him at the shoreline. His opponent then leapt up into the air, spiraling downwards as if he were a cruise missile right before plunging into its target.

Cupping his right shoulder with his left hand, Ranma dove out of the way as his opponent stomped where he had been, bringing a tsunami of water crashing onto the lake's shore. It presented the perfect opportunity to return fire.

"Kachuu Tenshin Amaguriken!" Ranma yelled, willing every ounce of energy into his attack. Hundreds of punches collided with Ryouga's plate armor chest, as Ranma drove inwards, focusing his strikes in one area of the man's body.

It did not even faze Ryouga.

Ranma was not even able to see the strike that knocked him back, sending him flying across the lake. It felt like one of his Blast Fists, only without the painless single finger strike. One punch was enough to send him over ten feet before he crashed headfirst into the water. Only a split second and a gut reaction saved Ranma from having his head destroyed by an elbow strike Ryouga used on the water next to him. Crashing down upon their heads, the cold liquid came down like a waterfall, showering them for a second as they floated near each other.

"Why did you come back?" Ryouga asked suddenly, instead of attacking. He sounded angry, but not as furious as his actions demanded. A certain degree of madness resonated in his voice, like a child reasoning with an imaginary friend who had decided to disappear when he needed it most, only in reverse. "You were gone for so long. I thought I had you behind me, but then you called me in again. I hate you. I hate you! Why did you come back?!"

"How can you ask that?" Ranma demanded, utterly insulted by the other man's question. "You threw my off a God damn cliff! Of course I'd come back! What, you think I'd forgive and forget?"

Ryouga inhaled deeply through his teeth making a harsh whistling noise as he had listened to Ranma's retort. With each word he gathered more and more anger. His dark, tanned skin glowed red with his fury. "Stop...using...his...voice!"

Nothing could have prepared Ranma for the swiftness of Ryouga's next attack. It was like something out of a manga, how he suddenly appeared in Ranma's face, slamming him a dozen times without slowing. He heard his body crack under the deluge of punches. He simply had no chance to even look at the finishing move as Ryouga's fist drove into his face. Falling back, as if gravity was unsure of what to do after the attack that defied physics, Ranma slowly touched the water, slowly sinking underneath the lake.

He forced his eyes open and stared up through the clear water. Ryouga's face hovered above him as he saw the man reach down to grab a hold of his neck. Even if he'd had the will to do so, Ranma did not struggle with Ryouga as he was shoved further down, unable to float back to the surface. He had felt the feeling before in a dream once or twice.

Perhaps this was all a dream? He would be waking up real soon, if that were the case. Yes, just a dream. A very scary dream. He would tell Kiyoshi in the morning without leaving anything out. Still staring up at Ryouga's maddened face, he wondered when the dream would end.

As he began to struggle, a thought crossed his bleary mind: What if this was not a dream?

No, it had to be a dream, he thought, trying to breathe, but only taking in water. He was really Kimiko Nishiyama, safe in her bed with her over-sized shirt lent to her by Kiyoshi, her brother. Or maybe she was still safe in his arms in the limousine, without a worry in the world. She would even settle with being asleep in Kenichi's room, sleeping soundly in his bed as he painted her picture. Even if he was a bit of a loon, she liked him. Yes, being asleep in his room would be nice.

Her lungs ached with pain as she felt her eyes burning under the icy-cold water. The dream would not end, but here it was. It has to grow dark before it can get light. Oh so bright, so bright. Morning light, yes, that is what it was. Warm arms, no more chest pain, no more hatred for that man, and no more hatred for anything. She loved everyone...especially Kiyoshi, Akane...Kenichi...Mayako...Rei...ko... Mai...Ryo...sei...

...Father...


"And in further news," a television news announcer began, "a freak storm seems to be brewing over certain parts of Tokyo city, as strong winds have reportedly been the cause of several small blackouts. We'll have more of that with our weather caster—"

Kenichi shut the screen off with a click of his remote, and yawned, exhausted from lack of sleep. He had to leave for work in about an hour, and decided to get up early for a change. It was not as if he could sleep anyway. Something had been tugging at his consciousness all night, disabling any chance he had at sleep, as if someone were calling out to him, begging for help, yet all he could do was roll over in response.

"I wish I were with Kimiko instead," he regretful sighed, half-tempted to skip work and meet with the target of his affections. He wondered what she was doing right now...probably sleeping, in the warmth of her bed, like he should have been.

Dawn approached, heralding the approach of a new day, and yet Kenichi only felt like reliving yesterday...again and again.

End Part Two: Haunted Pasts


It takes a thousand words to do what one picture can show. But it takes a thousand pictures to do what three words say. And it only takes one word to break them both. Until next time, farewell.