C & C welcome, not to mention needed.
Last updated: 3-14-14
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Broken Palace
By: Angela Jewell
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Disclaimer: Didn't own them then, don't own them now . . . pity.
Special thanks to all my wonderful reviewers! Without you guys, I would've gave up on this story chapters and chapters ago: Flameraven1, pursemonger, ToraHimeSama, Clarissa2404, Growing up sucks, O'Donoghue, AkaneKagome, linkgold64, Masayume85, pahlee, ilkane, Teddy's Circus, and BobV. And another shout-out to my wonderful pre-readers: Roja-Cyd, Luna12, Lichan44, and tomboy26. I may not mention them every chapter, but they're always there, helping me make this story better. :)
And again I apologize for the lack of formatting: the mini-flashback at the end is supposed to be indented. *sigh*
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Chapter 12
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It wasn't long before Akane felt the large ship come to a stop, and true to his word, Ranma returned shortly after . . . though this time he wasn't alone.
Konatsu and Akari trailed closely behind, and if Akane hadn't been desperate to talk to him about Ranko, she would've been glad to see them—despite being kidnapping criminals, those two weren't actually that bad. But Ranma had no clue how important it was for them to have a private conversation. So with one final warning not to try and ditch him, he grabbed her arm and escorted her off the ship without another word.
With an audience, bringing up Ranko again proved impossible, and before long, they were surrounded by the rest of Ranma's crew, and Akane noted their names as Ranma addressed them each in turn—Ukyo, Ryoga, Shampoo, and Mousse.
Though one stuck out in particular.
The purple-haired foreigner.
Listening to her now, Akane recognized her voice immediately—it was hard not to—and from there a memory sparked. The last time she'd heard her, she'd been saying "Nihao" as she hung above Ranma's door, and soon after Akane had blanked out, then almost drowned.
Akane didn't believe in coincidences. That girl had tried to kill her.
But like with Ranko, there was no easy way to bring it up. If she accused her publicly, who knew what would happen. Instead, Akane stuck close to Ranma, not letting the other girl out of her sight.
In any case, at least she was setting foot on dry land again. Even that disturbing memory couldn't dampen her spirits as she breathed in the fresh air, the sea mingling wonderfully with the scents from the marketplace as they finally left the ship behind them. To Akane's relief, Ranma's crew slowly began to thin out as some of them went their own way—the Chinese girl among them—until only Ryoga, Akari, and Ukyo remained.
Finally, Akane couldn't stand not knowing any longer. "So, where are we at exactly?" she asked, addressing the question to anyone who would listen.
Ranma answered first. "Sapporo," he told her, realizing she would've found out eventually.
Akane's mouth fell open in surprise, never having expected to find herself so far north, even further than Hokkaido. She had never dreamed of traveling so far.
And yet, the longer they walked, the more Akane began to sense that something about this kingdom wasn't right. In Nerima, the market had been like a second home—everyone was friendly and open, and if you had money, you were welcome. Here, however, it was like no one was welcome.
Except, perhaps, the rats. They could be spotted everywhere.
But, people-wise, despite its large population, she heard nothing—not the noise of bartering, of laughter, of hassled mothers yelling at their children. Children and adults alike were dressed shabbily as they wandered the streets, looking completely miserable. And despite the many street vendors she passed, few customers appeared to actually be buying anything. It was strange and a bit frightening. Akane had seen her fair share of kingdoms while traveling with her father—but she had never seen poverty and depression quite like this.
Just what was going on here?
For a moment she considered asking Ranma, but quickly dismissed that idea. The last thing she wanted to do was insult the place he'd been living for the last five years. Instead, she tried to focus her energy on something else—this time, Sapporo's large sprawling castle that lay far ahead in the distance. It towered above all the little shops in the marketplace—like a dark, oppressive shadow that swallowed everything in its path.
It was forbidding, and Akane very much hoped it didn't look quite as frightening up close. How anyone could actually live there was mind-boggling. Yet, according to what Ranma had said before, it's where he and his family had lived for the past five years. . .
The longer she looked at it, the more uncomfortable she became. Something about that place deeply unnerved her, and at that moment—even surrounded by crowds like they were—the urge to tell Ranma about Ranko was overwhelming. Something so important should never have been put off in the first place; she should've demanded to speak to him the second he told her they were disembarking.
Was it too late, she wondered? If she tried to pull him away to quiet corner, or into an alley somewhere, would he listen? She was seconds away from attempting that very thing—which was why she barely registered the danger.
Too late, she sensed it.
Before she could even turn around to look, Ranma was pulling her towards him—shielding her protectively with his body as he moved her out of the way.
Startled, heart pounding, she looked up at Ranma's face, surprised to see it had gone white. He was looking intently at one spot in particular, right where she'd been standing—and Akane followed his gaze, shocked to see three small throwing knives now imbedded in the street behind her.
She'd been so distracted she'd barely sensed it.
And then, she noticed something else. Aside from Ranma's little entourage, nobody in the marketplace seemed to care. She hadn't heard one scream of terror, no worried cries or surprised stares—they'd all gone about their business as if this sort of thing happened all the time.
But Ranma had noticed. His arms were still around her, and when she tried to move away, he pulled her back, whispering, "Stupid—wait a sec! Whoever did this might still be out there!" Akane followed his eyes as he began to scan the area, trying to pinpoint the attacker's position. He paid special attention to the rooftops of the buildings—and for a split second, Akane swore she saw a flash of green, only to have it disappear from sight seconds later.
Finally, Ranma loosened his grip on her, and Akane took a few small steps away, her eyes returning to the knives. Ukyo, Ryoga, and Akari made a small circle around her, speaking quietly among themselves as they tried to figure out where the attack had come from.
They only knew one thing for certain.
Someone was definitely trying to kill her.
Ranma watched with narrowed eyes as Kodachi disappeared from sight.
The moment he'd glimpsed her aura, he'd known it was her.
It was a revolting, sickly green—the color of jealousy, of envy, and hatred—a cocktail specific to the disinherited heir. But even if Ranma hadn't spotted her, he still would have known it was her. Only Kodachi was crazy enough to launch a reckless attack right in the middle of the day, in a crowded street—it was one of the reasons her brother banished her from his kingdom in the first place. She was brutal, dangerous, and lacked subtlety.
So Ranma couldn't resist the chance to take her under his wing. Knowing he controlled the sister of his enemy—the man responsible for stealing his fiancé and ruining his life—had managed to dull his fury somewhat. But as Ranma had quickly learned, Kodachi was also clingy, possessive, deranged, and much more trouble than she was worth.
He should have seen this coming.
Even so, Ranma forced himself to take a deep breath as he fought the urge to go after her. He could practically feel his hands around her neck, but knew punishing her could come later. His first priority was getting Akane back to the palace in one piece. If he left the tomboy with the others, who knew if she'd still be alive by the time he got back.
Troubled by that thought, Ranma glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
Akane seemed to be taking this whole thing surprisingly well. She wasn't freaking out or clinging to him, or even trying to hide. For a second, it looked like she even planned to pocket the knives—though Ranma put an end to that real quick. Before she could reach them, he snatched them up himself, eliminating any lingering temptation. The last thing he wanted was for Akane to get her hands on actual weapons.
Even now, after saving her life, he could tell she was still angry with him. Their confrontation back on the ship must have upset her more than he'd originally thought.
In fact, Ranma wouldn't be surprised if she was so busy being angry with him, that the shock of the attack still hadn't set in. After all, even if she was an uncute, stubborn tomboy, technically, she was still a girl—it wouldn't be surprising if she was acting tough in order to hide that she was actually scared spitless. So just this once, Ranma allowed himself to show a modicum of concern. If he acted angry and gruff, she might never admit to being afraid.
"You alright, Akane? You didn't get hit or nothing, did you?" As he asked, his eyes ran over her body, looking for any superficial nicks or cuts. Far as he could tell, she was unharmed.
At his show of concern, Akane waved her hand in dismissal. "Oh, I'm fine," she told him, and gave him a light, breezy laugh. "Actually, it's sort of funny, but I think I'm starting to get used to this."
Ranma stared at her blankly. "Err, used to what?"
Akane shrugged. "Well, it's not like this is the first time I've had my life threatened," she explained flippantly. "One more attempt, and I'll set a record!"
Again, Ranma stared at her for a very long time . . . and as her words slowly sank in, for some reason he found himself growing angry. "Wait a minute! What do you mean this isn't the first?" he demanded, grabbing her by the arm so she was looking right at him. "This kind of thing has happened before?"
Akane, looking confused by his outburst, slowly nodded her head. "Well, back home, there were three that I know of, and since I've been with you, this is the second. . ."
The second, Ranma thought, his mind reeling. It wasn't hard to figure out what the first incident must have been, and his body tensed at the realization. He knew something had been off about her back on deck—how could he have been so stupid? "Why the hell didn't you tell me?!"
"I just couldn't," she replied uncomfortably. "There were more important things to talk about, and besides, you never would've believed me anyway."
"More important things?" he returned sharply, his grip tightening. "You idiot! Someone tries to KILL you, and you don't think that's worth mentioning?!"
At his tone, Akane found herself suddenly growing defensive. "Oh, so it's MY fault you're too stupid to realize the obvious?! Or did you really think I was out there *drowning* because I wanted to be?" Crossing her arms against her chest, she seethed. "Honestly! It's not like any of them succeeded, Ranma, so what's the big deal?"
Ranma took a step away from her, trying to calm himself down. He was no longer afraid of one of his admirers trying to do his future wife in. What worried him more, was the temptation that he might just beat them to it. "Do you know who did it?" he gritted out, speaking slowly.
Akane nodded. "That Shampoo-girl, I think. She said something in Chinese before I blanked out, though my mind's still a bit fuzzy on the details."
Ranma had no trouble filling in the missing pieces for himself. Shampoo was known for using underhanded tricks like that, it was part of the reason he thought it would be useful to bring her along. Of course, he never imagined she'd be crazy or suicidal enough to act against him; Shampoo had always been smarter than that.
But it looked like now he'd have two stupid idiots to strangle. . .
"Do you think that was her again, trying to finish the job?" Akane asked him after a moment of silence.
"No. This was someone else," he told her, and didn't bother to elaborate. The betrayal didn't only hurt, it royally pissed him off. "Come on," he replied as he gave the others a sign to continue walking. Now, more than ever, he was impatient to get back to the castle.
He was so over this.
It didn't take them long to reach the castle, though once they had, Akane wanted very badly to be back on the ship.
The palace was even darker and more sinister up close. It was built like a fortress, with towering walls, barracks, and a rusty iron gate that served as its only entrance. And the inside wasn't much better. It was cold and impersonal, and if anything, seemed designed to keep people out. Long rows of columns spanned each side of the room, and that was it. No pictures on the walls, no statues, banners, or even tables to help give it a friendly lived-in touch. The entire place felt abandoned and cold. Rather than a castle, Akane felt like she was standing in a tomb.
This wasn't a home. People couldn't live here.
But they did. She passed maids and servants, busy in the midst of their work as they moved throughout the halls, heads down, not saying a word. And stranger still, she thought she glimpsed several rats darting about in the shadows; a testament to the castle's worsening decay. Yet Ranma didn't look fazed in the slightest by the gloom—he moved through the twisting corridors with an ease that could only be achieved through years of familiarity.
Still, the feeling of discomfort only intensified when they finally reached what she assumed was the throne room. Two large wooden doors that rose all the way to the ceiling barred their way, looking forbidding, but Ranma pulled one of them open with barely any effort and led her inside.
For a long moment, Akane could do nothing but stand there and stare.
In her father's kingdom, the throne room was beautiful. Rare oil paintings lined the walls, five chandeliers spanned the room, and his throne sat before a gorgeous velvet cloth bearing their kingdom's seal. Very rarely was it ever empty. People were always milling about, chatting and laughing during court, as sunlight streamed through a glass roof in the ceiling.
Here, there was nothing but darkness and shadows. It was just like the rest of the castle—deserted and cold; the air, stifling. There was no one to greet them, no one to even announce their arrival. Ranma simply walked her past two large ivory pillars, around a sharp corner, and suddenly they were inside, standing in the very heart of the room.
For the longest time, Akane thought it was as empty as the rest of the castle, and thought for sure Ranma had brought her to the wrong place. All she saw was one single black throne situated in the very back of the hall, looking ominous and unnatural against the room's startling emptiness.
But there, looking dwarfed by the vastness of the royal seat, sat a tiny old man, looking lifeless and bored, a silver goblet held in his hand.
For some reason, the second Akane spotted him, something in her gut began to twist and turn almost painfully—a feeling that only intensified as the old man finally took note of their arrival; his old bones seeming to jump right back to life.
He grinned at the sight of them, and placing the cup on a small stand beside him, shouted happily, "Ranma, my boy, you're back!" Then his eyes fell upon Akane, and like a child looking at a favorite toy, his eyes lit up even further. "Ooh! And you brought a gift!"
In the blink of an eye, he was leaping towards them, his arms outstretched as if to grab her—and Akane, not liking the look in his eyes one bit, darted quickly behind Ranma, using his body as a human shield. Before the strange old man could even reach them, Ranma's fist shot out, dropping him to the floor with one perfectly placed punch.
The ruler of Sapporo looked up at him, his large eyes filled with tears. "H-how can you hit your m-m-master?" he whined pitifully.
Ranma narrowed his eyes. "I'm not about to let you grope my future wife, old man. Master or no."
At his words, all of his tears seemed to dry up at once. "Ahh, so THIS is little Akane-chan, eh?" Akane eyed him suspiciously—though he posed it as a question, something in his eyes told her he knew very well who she was. "Why, hello there, my dear. The name's Happosai—but a cute thing like yourself can call me Happy!"
Akane was too busy trying to make sense of everything to reply. Creepy feelings aside, she couldn't quite believe it . . . THIS was the mastermind?! The old man who'd been sniveling on the floor moments ago was the same man responsible for orchestrating her entire kidnapping—who risked war for one tiny little kingdom?
She couldn't understand it. From what little she'd seen of Sapporo, he could barely manage this own country as it was—the idea that he could want Nerima too was crazy. Yet, regardless of Akane's lingering doubts, something continued to gnaw at her; warning her not to let down her guard; that this man was the ruler of Sapporo, and he didn't get that way by luck.
A dry chuckle escaped his lips, intruding upon her thoughts. "So . . . the quiet type, eh?"
Ranma snorted derisively. "Heh, like hell. Most of the time I can't seem to get her to shut up." For once, Akane allowed his taunt to slide, choosing instead to focus all her attention on the stranger standing before her.
Happosai, or Happy as he liked to be called, still couldn't seem to take his eyes off her. It was more than a little unnerving—the way his small beady eyes lingered over her form, as though trying to stare right through it. So much so, that Akane almost wished Ranma would hurry up and punch him again. But since he didn't, she was forced to keep pace with the old man's gaze, her feeling of unease steadily growing.
For some reason, she just couldn't shake the feeling . . . something about him was off.
Of course, she realized, glaring at him probably wasn't helping much. "Why did you have me brought here?" she asked, as she slowly began to edge away from the protective cover Ranma provided. She doubted the old man would try anything with him nearby, but she still wasn't willing to test that theory by wandering far.
The old man gave her a very slow smile, and instead of answering, turned to regard Ranma directly. "Why don't you leave us alone for a bit, lad. I think me and Akane-chan need to have ourselves a little chat."
All of a sudden, Akane felt her chest tighten. She didn't want to be in the same room with him, let alone be left there by herself! But to her horror, Ranma nodded his head, not looking bothered in the slightest.
"Sure," he replied. "I'll go wait outside."
For a moment Akane's mouth felt dry, and she couldn't seem to speak for the life of her.
"Ahh, no need," Happosai replied flippantly, as he turned and rebounded back to his dark throne. "Why not go greet your mother instead? The poor dear's been worried sick since you left. And don't worry," he added with a wink. "I'll make sure your bride-to-be gets back to you safe and sound."
Ranma gave the smallest bow of his head, and then turned to walk away . . . only to find that suddenly, he couldn't. Akane was holding him back.
"Hey, what gives?" Ranma complained as he glared at her.
"You don't actually plan to LEAVE me with him, do you?!"
Ranma looked at her like she'd suddenly gone mad. "Come on, Akane—LOOK at him. He's as harmless and as stupid as they come. If he tries to touch you again, just punch him in the face and be done with it."
Akane quickly shook her head, her grip on him tightening. "You don't understand a thing," she snapped, her eyes returning to the diminutive figure now sitting on his throne. He was holding that goblet again, and began to twirl it idly between his fingers before taking a long, lazy sip. "Something's not right. . ."
"I know," Ranma said, looking annoyed. "You're acting like an even bigger moron than usual." At her glare, he continued casually, "He ordered you here alive, stupid, he's not gonna knock you off now—not after everything we went through to bring you here. Even if you DO piss him off, which I'm sure you'll manage somehow. . ."
"I'm serious!" Akane snapped back, slapping his arm. "Can't you feel it? Something's wrong, you idiot!"
Ranma stood there, torn between frustration and worry; though anger was quick on its heels. What was her problem anyway? He knew Happosai. The old freak was more likely to fondle a girl than to physically harm one . . . yet the way she was begging him now, you'd think a demon was sitting on the throne in his place. Heck, Kodachi was scarier than Happosai!
But still . . . the look in her eyes troubled him.
The attack earlier had barely fazed her, and yet here she was, practically begging him not to go anywhere. It wasn't like her. It wasn't like her at all. Almost against his will his gaze traveled to Happosai . . . and any fear he'd felt for her safety immediately slipped away.
He was sitting there playing with a damn cup for crying out loud!
Stupid Akane . . . getting him all worried for nothing.
Before he could be swayed again, Ranma wrenched his arm away, refusing to be drawn in; stubbornly, he turned to regard Happosai. "I'll leave her to you then," he said, before turning to walk away.
As he was leaving, he didn't spare Akane another look. But he did hear her voice, quiet and strained behind him: "Ranma, you dummy."
With difficulty, he stalked off—trying like mad to pretend he hadn't heard her.
Akane heard the sound of a door closing in the direction Ranma had disappeared from, and with a sinking heart, realized she was alone. Slowly, she turned to regard her host; now through guarded eyes. He was still sitting there on his throne, smiling broadly as he watched her even more intently than before. "Well now," he said conversationally. "Alone at last."
Akane stayed right where she was, in the very middle of the room, with ample distance between them. Now that Ranma had gone, the place seemed even colder; the air, frigid. Unconsciously she shivered, trying to pinpoint the strange apprehension she'd been feeling ever since entering the room.
She didn't trust this man. Not one bit.
Ranma's motives she could understand—he had a right to hold a grudge against her and her father, no matter how misplaced it was. But why was this man helping him? She didn't recognize him at all—and if she'd ever seen him around the palace, she would've remembered. What could he possibly have to gain from all this?
Nerima. . .?
Even to Akane it sounded ridiculous. She loved her home, and the people in it . . . but compared to the other kingdoms in Japan, Nerima was small, and not nearly wealthy enough to sustain this level of interest. It held no real power in the world order, its land wasn't special, and conquering it wouldn't be a military victory in any sense of the word. So why?
"Why are you doing this?" she asked again, finally putting words to her thoughts. "Why am I really here?"
"You mean you don't remember?" he asked her, leaning his head on his hand, watching her with interest. Once again, Akane felt like she was staring at a different person. Where had the teary-eyed old man who had jumped at her gone; the one who had been taken down by a single punch? Now, she felt like she was staring at a king in every sense of the word—and a dangerous one at that.
"Remember what?" she asked, eyeing him uncomfortably.
"Oh, silly me," Happosai replied, right before he upended the goblet of water he was holding directly over his head. Suddenly, the old man was gone. Now, standing in his place was a young man her own age with curly-blond hair in a side-swept ponytail.
Akane didn't even have time to react. Within seconds, he was moving towards her, the expression on his face perfectly mirroring the one she'd seen on the old man's seconds before, though now with a hint of expectation. Almost without realizing, she took several steps back; heart pounding in silent, steady warning. He had transformed! Right in *front* of her! What kind of magic was this?!
"So nice to see you again, Akane-chan," he told her. "You remember your old friend, Happy now, don't cha?"
The way he looked at her then, like a cat who had finally cornered a mouse, had her ready to turn tail and run. And yet, something held her back. She racked her brain, trying desperately to remember where she'd seen him before—that ponytail, that cocky expression—and pain, red-hot and sudden, exploded within her head, bringing Akane to her knees. . .
The sword was heavy, but somehow Akane managed to lift it anyway.
"Don't move!" she ordered, even as her hands continued to tremble. Despite her threat, Ranko's attacker showed no signs of fear. He laughed lightly, and then an amused smile played across his face.
"Little girls shouldn't play with swords, Akane-chaaan," he told her. And then he was moving closer, his eyes shining with menace, his side-swept ponytail now loosened from its band to fall freely about his face.
All the same, Akane stood her ground . . . even as Happy continued to move towards her.
. . .now, all the locked memories flowed through her like a broken sieve, unfiltered and raw, as Akane recalled all of it. At last she could put a face to the man above Ranko—even heard his voice as he noticed her across the room: "Does Akane-chan want to play too. . .?"
And just like in her memory, Happosai was moving towards her; the good humor gone from his face. He was studying her intently, like a child would examine a bug.
Oh, god, she thought—he could squash me!
"So . . ." he began thoughtfully, "you are starting to remember. A little soon, methinks, but I expected such a contingency—the bottle did only say good for five years . . . the question, my dear, is how much do you remember?"
Akane shook her head, her courage quickly failing her. She felt like she was thirteen again—staring straight into the eyes of a monster she'd tried to convince herself didn't exist. "Nothing," she insisted, choking back a sob as she lied through her teeth. "I don't—I can't remember anything. It's all a-a blank."
"Now Akane-chan," he admonished lightly, though his expression was serious. "It isn't very ladylike for a princess to lie. How much," he said again, his voice harsher, colder, "do you remember?"
This time, she wasn't given a chance to lie. His hand shot out too quickly for her eyes to follow, and a bright red light exploded from his open palms, smashing into her with all the force of a brick wall. It stole away her breath, and Akane clutched her stomach as she bent over in pain; the dizziness overpowering.
Then, to her horror, she could suddenly hear his voice—an unwelcome, commanding presence inside her very mind, forcing her to bend to his will. Akane tried to fight against his presence; to fight against a power she couldn't see or understand . . . but the battle was over almost as quickly as it began. Against her will she began to speak aloud, though the act itself felt far removed.
She told him everything—answering every question he threw her way, leaving nothing out. . .
. . .and Ranma listened to every word. The hand that was clutching the side of the column, strained. His face, white.
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THE END
Chapter 12
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A/N: Just a quick heads-up—I'm still struggling to write anything new, so don't be surprised if the steady, weekly updates stop coming once I get caught up to Chapter 19. I'll keep trying to plug away, but writing new stuff is much harder than revising something that's already written! On the bright side, it's looking like it'll only be around 21 chapters total, so the wait shouldn't be too terrible. And in any case, I have no intention of making you guys wait months and months for those final chapters—probably two weeks at most. But we'll worry about that when we get there! I just didn't want any of you to be blindsided down the road if that does actually happen.
