Chapter 5
Sleepless Night
She slept fitfully. The events of the past few hours had troubled gentle Kasumi greatly. She awoke several times during the night until she had finally decided what she needed was some warm milk. She stood and threw a robe on before leaving her room. No telling if anyone was up and about, and she didn't want to appear in anything improper, although her night gown was floor length and long sleeved.
She made her way to and through the kitchen without the need of light. She knew every detail of that kitchen like it was her own body. She got the milk, a small pan and heated it in no time. She was going to return to her room with her cup when she heard something from the back porch.
Slowly, half-fearful, she entered the living room and saw a small light coming from the porch. A candle was burning mournfully on the porch. It cast it's light defiantly, fearlessly fighting off the darkness of the night. The moon and stars were covered by thick clouds, so the candle had a lot of darkness to fight. She stepped onto the porch and saw Ranma sitting with his back against a column, facing the candle.
"Ranma?" she asked quietly. "You should be asleep."
"Ranma is asleep," he replied. He spoke Japanese with only a slight accent, although he spoke every word properly, with no hint of word shortening that Ranma usually used. He opened his eyes and Kasumi saw that they were brown. She took an involuntary step back.
He let out a soft laugh and shook his head sadly. "I scare you," he said. There was remorse in his voice. He stood up slowly, almost painfully. He turned and walked away from her, into the back yard. He stood with his hands in his pockets and shoulders slumped, staring into the pool. It was a lonely sight, and it touched Kasumi in it's sincerity.
She stepped off the porch and followed him out into the backyard. Slowly, she reached out to touch his shoulder. He flinched from her touch and she retracted her hand.
"Do you know how it feels to be torn from everything you have ever known and thrust into a barely known world that is so similar to your own, yet completely different?" he asked quietly. She couldn't begin to guess at the pain he must be feeling. "A place where, because of how you were raised and how you ended up as an adult makes everyone who might have trusted you fear you instead? I've seen how you, and Akane, and Soun and the rest look at me. I know fear when I see it. I have seen too much of it. When Ranma and I talk, I can hear the anger and mistrust in his voice. Can you know how that feels?"
She had no idea of how to respond. The pain, loneliness and depression she heard in his voice was almost palpable. She was a kind-hearted woman, and didn't like to see anything in pain. She reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and this time he didn't flinch away from it. His shoulder shook slightly under her hand and she could feel his ragged breathing.
"I am a cold man," he said just as quietly as before, "but I feel pain just as much as the next man. Pain, loneliness, depression. I have felt them all in abundance. I am tired of it, Kasumi. Tired of it all. The hate, the loneliness, the depression, all of it. I want it to end, but I am not myself here. I am stuck in the body of a boy a decade younger than I really am. Would that I could end it, you know? Would it be better in the end or worse? These thoughts are my companion now, and I would rid myself of them if I could. But in this world, I cannot." He laughed bitterly and the pool rippled as a tear fell into it.
She felt tears roll down her own cheeks. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and held him as he wept quietly. She didn't say anything because she didn't know what to say. She did what she thought was needed. She stood there, holding him, rocking gently. Her cup of warm milk was forgotten, laying in the grass at her feet.
"Thank you," he said and then sniffed loudly. He laughed weakly. "I guess I needed that." He turned to face her and she saw that there were still tears unshed in his eyes. He smiled tentatively and she returned it. She was glad she could help, though she really didn't do anything. He looked into her eyes and his smile slowly disappeared. He reached up and gently caressed her face. It was a gentle touch, but not one someone would give someone who was only a friend. He seemed to realize this as his eyes got wide and he stepped back, embarrassed.
He coughed. "Uh, yeah. Anyways, I thought I'd get some meditation done. That's why I was here with the candle. Why are you awake?"
She was blushing furiously and she looked away. The night air was cool against her heated face and she needed that.
"I couldn't sleep," she said after a moment. "I thought some warm milk would help. Oh!" She suddenly realized that she didn't have her cup in her hand anymore and she looked around for it. She saw it and bent to retrieve it at the same time Daniel did. Their hands met over the cup and they both looked up. She gazed into those eyes, the eyes that looked completely different now than they did when they had first met earlier that day. She had the urge to reach out and touch his face as he had done hers, but she had to remind herself that this was Ranma's body, her sister's fiancé, but the urge was strong.
She stood up quickly, the cup still laying on the ground. "I have to get back to bed," she said hurriedly. She took a step back. "Good night." She didn't want to be impolite. She turned and walked quickly back into the house. She rushed to her bed and climbed in, still in her robe. Her mind was awhirl with different and conflicting thoughts. Sleep did not visit her again that night.
*****
He admired the way her hips moved as he hurried into the house. She was a comely woman, he had to admit. He smiled. He deserved an Oscar for that performance. He couldn't believe he had actually managed to shed some tears. He hadn't cried in years, but he was able to dredge up the memory of how to fairly easily.
He sighed as he ran the events that just happened again in his mind. He really had come out on the porch to meditate and try to reach some level of calm equilibrium, and he had always found that focusing on a candle had always helped before. He didn't expect anyone to wake up, and he definitely didn't expect it to be Kasumi, although he was glad it was. His plans had been set in motion earlier than he had wanted, but that couldn't be changed now. He told her the plain truth, though, and that always felt weird. He was unaccustomed to telling the whole truth. He was much used to half-truths and partial truths, and sometimes mostly-truths. He really was a cold, depressed, and lonely man, but that had never bothered him before. He had embellished a bit, and had added some self-pity to his voice, but the overall affect was just as he had desired. He had planted the seeds of chaos this night, and he hoped the fruit would be as delicate as he hoped.
He sniffed the air. He could still smell her perfume. It was a pleasant smell, really. An odd idea occurred to him. Maybe he could kill off everyone who knew Ranma and then destroy the Ranma that was still in his mind during the confrontation of the great evil that was always the source of problems in these stories. Then, he could come back and stay with Kasumi. She was pretty enough and kind enough to need protecting, and he was good at that sort of thing. He pondered it for a moment, then promptly discarded the idea. He was not a fan of happy endings, and besides he had something to do first, after he got back home anyways, and whoever put him here would not be happy. Not happy at all.
"Good night, Kasumi," he said, for anyone who might be listening and he had the feeling that someone was. He had added just enough uncertainty to his voice to lend credit to the whole notion that something might be budding between the two.
He walked back to the porch and looked at the candle. He briefly considered trying to meditate again, but he was too tired. That nap hadn't been enough, he needed more sleep. He blew the candle out and the darkness rushed in to occupy the area where the light had been.
*****
Ickzil flew through the tangled, twisted forest of his master's home. His shoulder was healing rather nicely and a new arm had started to grow back. It was good to be home. He passed all sorts of demons as he flew, some that slithered, some that walked, some that flew and some that had a form of locomotion that there were no words for. The trees were stunted, twisted and diseased. The water, brackish, black and foul. It was good to be home.
He flew through the forest, following the familiar path. He always took the same path. Even though demons were chaotic creatures, they were also creatures of habit, and taking this path was Ickzil's habit. He flew and flew, the distance always changed when traveling in the home realm of demons, very little was constant. Soon, he saw his master's citadel.
It stood like the imploring hand of a drowning man in the middle of the blighted forest. It was made of the bleached white bones of countless creatures, as well as the sinew and tendons of said creatures. It was constantly being added upon, as more and more creatures died at the hands of the demon host and their corpses brought back for feast. Demons rarely wasted parts of a corpse. Ickzil guessed that if it were to be allowed to continue, the whole body that the hand belonged to would be made.
The five finger-like towers stretched into the green tinted sky and dark flames erupted from them at random intervals. Those were the lord's machine shops and invention labs. Very few things actually came out of those five rooms, but the screams were nice. The towers leading to those rooms were where captives were kept, as well as guest, when they arrived and survived and didn't displease the lord overmuch. There were such enjoyments to be found in those towers. Every vice imaginable, and unimaginable were to be found there. Everything from sexual torture to the frigid death of an arctic winter. It was a paradise that Ickzil didn't like to leave.
The imp entered at the base, or wrist of the citadel and flew through the twisted, random hallways until he came to the doors to his lord's private bedchambers. He knew his master was most likely here instead of the throne room. His master had a new mistress, a succubus named Lina, and from the whispers he heard, she was quite a good mistress.
Ickzil didn't bother knocking, he just barged on in, and it just so happened that his lord was in there, as well as his new mistress. She straddled his lord and he could clearly see the pale, milky skin on her backside and back. Her blonde hair was sweaty and stuck to her back and shoulders as she leaned forward, her hands on his lord's chest. He could clearly see how her large, firm breasts bounced with each of his lord's thrusts. Unfortunately, for Ickzil anyways, his lord wasn't quite finished with his amusements when he burst in.
His lord stopped in mid-thrust and turned his baleful gaze towards the imp. The imp immediately prostrated himself on the floor, groveling. His master was a large creature, when standing, he was over eight feet tall, with huge bat-like wings. His body was superbly muscled and his hands ended in long black talons. His face was a combination of an ape's and a lizard's, using the worst aspect of each. His body was covered with a fine layer of coarse, red hair and his muzzle was filled to the brim with sharp, jagged teeth. All in all, he was a very unappealing looking creature. Unless you were another demon, or a lust-driven succubus, that is.
"Ickzil," the demon lord growled. It had a deep, but strangely cultured voice. "I do hope you have sufficient reason to barge in here while I'm entertaining a guest, hmm? If you do not, I'm afraid that when I'm done here, there won't be enough left of you to put in an atom smasher." He began, again, his rhythmic thrusting into the succubus, to which she readily reacted. The moans and screams she made almost drowned out the screams coming from the towers.
"My lord," Ickzil began, "I did not meant to interrupt your pleasures. You know I would only disturb you with the utmost news, and even then it would have to be very important indeed." He was speaking the language of the demons, which, thankfully, didn't entail any of that "thee" and "thou" crap he had to put up with in the human tongues.
"Yes, yes," his lord said, sounding quite bored with the intrusion, "get on with it, already. I am in the middle of something right now."
"Yes, my lord. I found him!"
The demon lord sat up straight, knocking the succubus over in his haste. He didn't notice. He looked at the imp which continued to try to press himself into the floor.
"You what?" he demanded incredulously.
"I found him, my lord," the imp repeated, mistaking the demon lord's surprise for anger. "I found the one who banished you from the mortal realm. I know where he is. I can lead you there. I have even found a summoner foolish enough to attempt it." Ickzil hoped he would live through this encounter.
The demon lord swung his goat-like legs over the edge of the bed. He sat there, his member still erect and dripping, a thoughtful look on his face. The succubus, far from satiated reached around the lord and started caressing his chest, hoping to elicit more attention. He growled and casually reached behind him to engulf her head in one huge hand. She thought he was playing. He wasn't. The remains of her head splattered for quite a distance.
"You have found a summoner who is stupid enough to summon the likes of I?" the lord asked the mewling imp.
"Yes, master. He is proficient with the spells, but he is not too smart with his orders. He seeks immortality, and power." The imp unintentionally barked a small, contemptuous laugh. "What fool human does not?"
"Very true, Ickzil my pet, very true. You have the means to contact him?"
"No, master, but since I was injured by the followers of the one you seek, I told him to summon me again in one days time. I will be healed by then and I told him I'd have many demons to help slaughter his enemies. He is a foolish one, master."
"No doubt he is," the lord's tone was distant. His thoughts were not totally with his servant. He was remembering a time when a master of the arts martial had banished him from his fun in the mortal realm. He was still very pissed about that, even though it had happened over a hundred years ago. "How is this summoner's circle set up? It binds you, but will it bind me?"
"It will not master. It bound me, yes, but I am nothing compared to your might."
"Enough sucking up, Ickzil. Give me the details of your time in the mortal realm."
So Ickzil did. He told his master everything, including why he followed Ranma and what he learned before he was attacked. He was even stupid enough to tell him of the power he sensed in the one possessing Ranma, and he told him his theory of how strong that power was. After that, the succubus's arm wasn't attached to her body anymore and Ickzil was nursing a shattered face as well as a shattered shoulder.
"You have done well, Ickzil. I am pleased. You may go and feed off the essence of one of my other servants to speed your healing. When it resist, use the rune of agony of it. You have my permission." The lord was well pleased indeed! It was not everyday, or hell even every century, when he allowed an imp to use the rune of agony, let alone feed off of another demon.
Ickzil scampered out of the room, closing the door after him. The demon lord was newly excited by the news that in less than one mortal day he would extract his revenge on the man who had banished him. He looked at the corpse of the succubus and shrugged his large shoulders. She would be better this way anyways, he figured. She moved too much for his tastes alive. She'd be much more pliable now that she wasn't. He continued what he was doing when he was interrupted long into the night, and by our standards, it was not a pleasant act.
*****
Happosai sighed wearily as he stared at the cloud covered sky. He felt old, and he was bone tired. He had heard the conversation between Daniel and Kasumi and he knew trouble was brewing. He was old and cynical, but he knew what he heard, and what he heard didn't bode well for the rest of the family. If Daniel were trapped permanently in Ranma's body, then things would become even more complicated in Nerima.
He sighed again and shook his head. Things were supposed to be simpler as one got older, not more and more entangled. He reached into his shirt and pulled out one of the few treasures he had managed to procure before the incident at the Furinkan. It was a padded, silky bra. He ran his hands all over it, not looking at it. They always made him feel better, his treasures. But now, though, they didn't bring the solace he had hoped they would.
He dropped the bra and sighed for the third time. He moved his thoughts from their present, gloomy course to something more immediate. Like, how to arrange it so no-one killed each other with their new and unexpected visitor. There was definitely something dark about the man called Daniel. He didn't know quite what it was, but Happosai would keep his eyes open. He didn't know if he trusted the stranger or not, but he would need watching. He was too mercurial to be fully trusted, but after what he heard not long ago, he knew that he was also one who needed what support he could get in this place.
He shook his head and gazed again at the cloudy sky. Patches of stars could be seen where some of the clouds had broken up, but he didn't hold much hope of tomorrow being a sunny day. He was too old for this kind of thing.
*****
The summoner awoke from a horrible dream, screaming and drenched in sweat. He shook uncontrollably for a moment, before where he was sunk in. He was in his own room above the pastry shop he had opened. He wiped a hand over his pale face and sighed raggedly as the dream began to break up in his mind.
When the images were gone, he lay back down, hoping to sleep some more, but sleep was long in coming. He felt a sense of foreboding that he couldn't explain, and he didn't know from whence it came. It was there and wouldn't let him go until long into the night. The rest of his dreams were untroubled.
*****
Kuno couldn't sleep. The events of the day weighed heavily upon the young man. He stood in the dojo in his family's palatial house and practiced his swordsmanship. He was sweat drenched and exhausted, but still sleep was denied to him. His stomach hurt abysmally from where Saotome had hit him, and his back was sore from where he landed after said punch.
He huffed and puffed as he exerted himself beyond the norm. He couldn't get the images of his beloved Akane cradling Ranma's head in her lap out of his head. He also couldn't get the face of the one called Daniel out of his mind, either. The look on his face was one that Kuno never wanted to see directed at him again. It was a look that should have been carved onto a samurai's face mask, it belonged on the face of an oni, or an akuma. It was a horrible face to have directed at him, and it scared him more than he'd ever admit to anyone, even to himself.
So he practiced. He practiced to exhaust himself physically and mentally. He practiced so that maybe he could sleep. He practiced to forget.
*****
Ryoga looked up at the sign. How the hell had he ended up in Tokyo? He sighed and shouldered his umbrella. It would take him quite some time to get back to Nerima. He was resigned to the fact that he got lost easily, and he was resigned to the fact that the only way Akane enjoyed his presence was when he was P-chan. Not that he really liked being a pig, but it was better than nothing.
He looked up at the sky and prayed to whatever god or spirit might be listening that it didn't rain. It would take him long enough to get back to Nerima at his usual pace, but as a small pig, it would take too long.
*****
Cologne looked at the sleeping form of her great-granddaughter. She slept soundly, though Cologne did not. The small woman had been distracted all day, since she felt the hate that started, grew and then disappeared all within the space of five minutes. It disturbed her, but she didn't know why. It wasn't directed towards her, or Shampoo, but it unsettled her nonetheless.
She sighed and turned from the doorway and nearly ran into the kneecaps of Mousse. She glared up at the young man but he didn't notice. He was too busy crying. He stared at Shampoo and cried, and Cologne was tempted to break his knees for peeping on her granddaughter while she slept. Instead, she took her staff and cracked him over the head with it.
He didn't make a sound, but grabbed his head and looked down at Cologne, seeing her there for the first time. He started to stammer out a response, but just gave up in favor of turning bright red and running for his own room.
Stupid boy, Cologne thought as she closed the door to her granddaughter's room. She walked to her own room and left the door open a crack. She would make sure Mousse stayed in his room this time, if her mind wasn't so preoccupied. Sleep would be denied to her that night as her concerns and unanswered questions tumbled around in her mind.
*****
Ranma sleep was undisturbed, but it was not all that peaceful. He dreamed strange things of a strange world that was like his, but at the same time completely different. He dreamed of a midnight rendezvous with Kasumi, one that didn't end with her almost running back into the house. He dreamed of strange demons having sex with mutilated corpses. He dreamed of strange men having stranger dreams.
He dreamed of many things, but would remember none of them in the morning.
*****
Daniel slept soundly in his room in Ranma's mind. His dreams were peaceful and uneventful. He seemed to be the only one of the major players who slept well that night, or any night thereafter.
Sleepless Night
She slept fitfully. The events of the past few hours had troubled gentle Kasumi greatly. She awoke several times during the night until she had finally decided what she needed was some warm milk. She stood and threw a robe on before leaving her room. No telling if anyone was up and about, and she didn't want to appear in anything improper, although her night gown was floor length and long sleeved.
She made her way to and through the kitchen without the need of light. She knew every detail of that kitchen like it was her own body. She got the milk, a small pan and heated it in no time. She was going to return to her room with her cup when she heard something from the back porch.
Slowly, half-fearful, she entered the living room and saw a small light coming from the porch. A candle was burning mournfully on the porch. It cast it's light defiantly, fearlessly fighting off the darkness of the night. The moon and stars were covered by thick clouds, so the candle had a lot of darkness to fight. She stepped onto the porch and saw Ranma sitting with his back against a column, facing the candle.
"Ranma?" she asked quietly. "You should be asleep."
"Ranma is asleep," he replied. He spoke Japanese with only a slight accent, although he spoke every word properly, with no hint of word shortening that Ranma usually used. He opened his eyes and Kasumi saw that they were brown. She took an involuntary step back.
He let out a soft laugh and shook his head sadly. "I scare you," he said. There was remorse in his voice. He stood up slowly, almost painfully. He turned and walked away from her, into the back yard. He stood with his hands in his pockets and shoulders slumped, staring into the pool. It was a lonely sight, and it touched Kasumi in it's sincerity.
She stepped off the porch and followed him out into the backyard. Slowly, she reached out to touch his shoulder. He flinched from her touch and she retracted her hand.
"Do you know how it feels to be torn from everything you have ever known and thrust into a barely known world that is so similar to your own, yet completely different?" he asked quietly. She couldn't begin to guess at the pain he must be feeling. "A place where, because of how you were raised and how you ended up as an adult makes everyone who might have trusted you fear you instead? I've seen how you, and Akane, and Soun and the rest look at me. I know fear when I see it. I have seen too much of it. When Ranma and I talk, I can hear the anger and mistrust in his voice. Can you know how that feels?"
She had no idea of how to respond. The pain, loneliness and depression she heard in his voice was almost palpable. She was a kind-hearted woman, and didn't like to see anything in pain. She reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and this time he didn't flinch away from it. His shoulder shook slightly under her hand and she could feel his ragged breathing.
"I am a cold man," he said just as quietly as before, "but I feel pain just as much as the next man. Pain, loneliness, depression. I have felt them all in abundance. I am tired of it, Kasumi. Tired of it all. The hate, the loneliness, the depression, all of it. I want it to end, but I am not myself here. I am stuck in the body of a boy a decade younger than I really am. Would that I could end it, you know? Would it be better in the end or worse? These thoughts are my companion now, and I would rid myself of them if I could. But in this world, I cannot." He laughed bitterly and the pool rippled as a tear fell into it.
She felt tears roll down her own cheeks. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and held him as he wept quietly. She didn't say anything because she didn't know what to say. She did what she thought was needed. She stood there, holding him, rocking gently. Her cup of warm milk was forgotten, laying in the grass at her feet.
"Thank you," he said and then sniffed loudly. He laughed weakly. "I guess I needed that." He turned to face her and she saw that there were still tears unshed in his eyes. He smiled tentatively and she returned it. She was glad she could help, though she really didn't do anything. He looked into her eyes and his smile slowly disappeared. He reached up and gently caressed her face. It was a gentle touch, but not one someone would give someone who was only a friend. He seemed to realize this as his eyes got wide and he stepped back, embarrassed.
He coughed. "Uh, yeah. Anyways, I thought I'd get some meditation done. That's why I was here with the candle. Why are you awake?"
She was blushing furiously and she looked away. The night air was cool against her heated face and she needed that.
"I couldn't sleep," she said after a moment. "I thought some warm milk would help. Oh!" She suddenly realized that she didn't have her cup in her hand anymore and she looked around for it. She saw it and bent to retrieve it at the same time Daniel did. Their hands met over the cup and they both looked up. She gazed into those eyes, the eyes that looked completely different now than they did when they had first met earlier that day. She had the urge to reach out and touch his face as he had done hers, but she had to remind herself that this was Ranma's body, her sister's fiancé, but the urge was strong.
She stood up quickly, the cup still laying on the ground. "I have to get back to bed," she said hurriedly. She took a step back. "Good night." She didn't want to be impolite. She turned and walked quickly back into the house. She rushed to her bed and climbed in, still in her robe. Her mind was awhirl with different and conflicting thoughts. Sleep did not visit her again that night.
*****
He admired the way her hips moved as he hurried into the house. She was a comely woman, he had to admit. He smiled. He deserved an Oscar for that performance. He couldn't believe he had actually managed to shed some tears. He hadn't cried in years, but he was able to dredge up the memory of how to fairly easily.
He sighed as he ran the events that just happened again in his mind. He really had come out on the porch to meditate and try to reach some level of calm equilibrium, and he had always found that focusing on a candle had always helped before. He didn't expect anyone to wake up, and he definitely didn't expect it to be Kasumi, although he was glad it was. His plans had been set in motion earlier than he had wanted, but that couldn't be changed now. He told her the plain truth, though, and that always felt weird. He was unaccustomed to telling the whole truth. He was much used to half-truths and partial truths, and sometimes mostly-truths. He really was a cold, depressed, and lonely man, but that had never bothered him before. He had embellished a bit, and had added some self-pity to his voice, but the overall affect was just as he had desired. He had planted the seeds of chaos this night, and he hoped the fruit would be as delicate as he hoped.
He sniffed the air. He could still smell her perfume. It was a pleasant smell, really. An odd idea occurred to him. Maybe he could kill off everyone who knew Ranma and then destroy the Ranma that was still in his mind during the confrontation of the great evil that was always the source of problems in these stories. Then, he could come back and stay with Kasumi. She was pretty enough and kind enough to need protecting, and he was good at that sort of thing. He pondered it for a moment, then promptly discarded the idea. He was not a fan of happy endings, and besides he had something to do first, after he got back home anyways, and whoever put him here would not be happy. Not happy at all.
"Good night, Kasumi," he said, for anyone who might be listening and he had the feeling that someone was. He had added just enough uncertainty to his voice to lend credit to the whole notion that something might be budding between the two.
He walked back to the porch and looked at the candle. He briefly considered trying to meditate again, but he was too tired. That nap hadn't been enough, he needed more sleep. He blew the candle out and the darkness rushed in to occupy the area where the light had been.
*****
Ickzil flew through the tangled, twisted forest of his master's home. His shoulder was healing rather nicely and a new arm had started to grow back. It was good to be home. He passed all sorts of demons as he flew, some that slithered, some that walked, some that flew and some that had a form of locomotion that there were no words for. The trees were stunted, twisted and diseased. The water, brackish, black and foul. It was good to be home.
He flew through the forest, following the familiar path. He always took the same path. Even though demons were chaotic creatures, they were also creatures of habit, and taking this path was Ickzil's habit. He flew and flew, the distance always changed when traveling in the home realm of demons, very little was constant. Soon, he saw his master's citadel.
It stood like the imploring hand of a drowning man in the middle of the blighted forest. It was made of the bleached white bones of countless creatures, as well as the sinew and tendons of said creatures. It was constantly being added upon, as more and more creatures died at the hands of the demon host and their corpses brought back for feast. Demons rarely wasted parts of a corpse. Ickzil guessed that if it were to be allowed to continue, the whole body that the hand belonged to would be made.
The five finger-like towers stretched into the green tinted sky and dark flames erupted from them at random intervals. Those were the lord's machine shops and invention labs. Very few things actually came out of those five rooms, but the screams were nice. The towers leading to those rooms were where captives were kept, as well as guest, when they arrived and survived and didn't displease the lord overmuch. There were such enjoyments to be found in those towers. Every vice imaginable, and unimaginable were to be found there. Everything from sexual torture to the frigid death of an arctic winter. It was a paradise that Ickzil didn't like to leave.
The imp entered at the base, or wrist of the citadel and flew through the twisted, random hallways until he came to the doors to his lord's private bedchambers. He knew his master was most likely here instead of the throne room. His master had a new mistress, a succubus named Lina, and from the whispers he heard, she was quite a good mistress.
Ickzil didn't bother knocking, he just barged on in, and it just so happened that his lord was in there, as well as his new mistress. She straddled his lord and he could clearly see the pale, milky skin on her backside and back. Her blonde hair was sweaty and stuck to her back and shoulders as she leaned forward, her hands on his lord's chest. He could clearly see how her large, firm breasts bounced with each of his lord's thrusts. Unfortunately, for Ickzil anyways, his lord wasn't quite finished with his amusements when he burst in.
His lord stopped in mid-thrust and turned his baleful gaze towards the imp. The imp immediately prostrated himself on the floor, groveling. His master was a large creature, when standing, he was over eight feet tall, with huge bat-like wings. His body was superbly muscled and his hands ended in long black talons. His face was a combination of an ape's and a lizard's, using the worst aspect of each. His body was covered with a fine layer of coarse, red hair and his muzzle was filled to the brim with sharp, jagged teeth. All in all, he was a very unappealing looking creature. Unless you were another demon, or a lust-driven succubus, that is.
"Ickzil," the demon lord growled. It had a deep, but strangely cultured voice. "I do hope you have sufficient reason to barge in here while I'm entertaining a guest, hmm? If you do not, I'm afraid that when I'm done here, there won't be enough left of you to put in an atom smasher." He began, again, his rhythmic thrusting into the succubus, to which she readily reacted. The moans and screams she made almost drowned out the screams coming from the towers.
"My lord," Ickzil began, "I did not meant to interrupt your pleasures. You know I would only disturb you with the utmost news, and even then it would have to be very important indeed." He was speaking the language of the demons, which, thankfully, didn't entail any of that "thee" and "thou" crap he had to put up with in the human tongues.
"Yes, yes," his lord said, sounding quite bored with the intrusion, "get on with it, already. I am in the middle of something right now."
"Yes, my lord. I found him!"
The demon lord sat up straight, knocking the succubus over in his haste. He didn't notice. He looked at the imp which continued to try to press himself into the floor.
"You what?" he demanded incredulously.
"I found him, my lord," the imp repeated, mistaking the demon lord's surprise for anger. "I found the one who banished you from the mortal realm. I know where he is. I can lead you there. I have even found a summoner foolish enough to attempt it." Ickzil hoped he would live through this encounter.
The demon lord swung his goat-like legs over the edge of the bed. He sat there, his member still erect and dripping, a thoughtful look on his face. The succubus, far from satiated reached around the lord and started caressing his chest, hoping to elicit more attention. He growled and casually reached behind him to engulf her head in one huge hand. She thought he was playing. He wasn't. The remains of her head splattered for quite a distance.
"You have found a summoner who is stupid enough to summon the likes of I?" the lord asked the mewling imp.
"Yes, master. He is proficient with the spells, but he is not too smart with his orders. He seeks immortality, and power." The imp unintentionally barked a small, contemptuous laugh. "What fool human does not?"
"Very true, Ickzil my pet, very true. You have the means to contact him?"
"No, master, but since I was injured by the followers of the one you seek, I told him to summon me again in one days time. I will be healed by then and I told him I'd have many demons to help slaughter his enemies. He is a foolish one, master."
"No doubt he is," the lord's tone was distant. His thoughts were not totally with his servant. He was remembering a time when a master of the arts martial had banished him from his fun in the mortal realm. He was still very pissed about that, even though it had happened over a hundred years ago. "How is this summoner's circle set up? It binds you, but will it bind me?"
"It will not master. It bound me, yes, but I am nothing compared to your might."
"Enough sucking up, Ickzil. Give me the details of your time in the mortal realm."
So Ickzil did. He told his master everything, including why he followed Ranma and what he learned before he was attacked. He was even stupid enough to tell him of the power he sensed in the one possessing Ranma, and he told him his theory of how strong that power was. After that, the succubus's arm wasn't attached to her body anymore and Ickzil was nursing a shattered face as well as a shattered shoulder.
"You have done well, Ickzil. I am pleased. You may go and feed off the essence of one of my other servants to speed your healing. When it resist, use the rune of agony of it. You have my permission." The lord was well pleased indeed! It was not everyday, or hell even every century, when he allowed an imp to use the rune of agony, let alone feed off of another demon.
Ickzil scampered out of the room, closing the door after him. The demon lord was newly excited by the news that in less than one mortal day he would extract his revenge on the man who had banished him. He looked at the corpse of the succubus and shrugged his large shoulders. She would be better this way anyways, he figured. She moved too much for his tastes alive. She'd be much more pliable now that she wasn't. He continued what he was doing when he was interrupted long into the night, and by our standards, it was not a pleasant act.
*****
Happosai sighed wearily as he stared at the cloud covered sky. He felt old, and he was bone tired. He had heard the conversation between Daniel and Kasumi and he knew trouble was brewing. He was old and cynical, but he knew what he heard, and what he heard didn't bode well for the rest of the family. If Daniel were trapped permanently in Ranma's body, then things would become even more complicated in Nerima.
He sighed again and shook his head. Things were supposed to be simpler as one got older, not more and more entangled. He reached into his shirt and pulled out one of the few treasures he had managed to procure before the incident at the Furinkan. It was a padded, silky bra. He ran his hands all over it, not looking at it. They always made him feel better, his treasures. But now, though, they didn't bring the solace he had hoped they would.
He dropped the bra and sighed for the third time. He moved his thoughts from their present, gloomy course to something more immediate. Like, how to arrange it so no-one killed each other with their new and unexpected visitor. There was definitely something dark about the man called Daniel. He didn't know quite what it was, but Happosai would keep his eyes open. He didn't know if he trusted the stranger or not, but he would need watching. He was too mercurial to be fully trusted, but after what he heard not long ago, he knew that he was also one who needed what support he could get in this place.
He shook his head and gazed again at the cloudy sky. Patches of stars could be seen where some of the clouds had broken up, but he didn't hold much hope of tomorrow being a sunny day. He was too old for this kind of thing.
*****
The summoner awoke from a horrible dream, screaming and drenched in sweat. He shook uncontrollably for a moment, before where he was sunk in. He was in his own room above the pastry shop he had opened. He wiped a hand over his pale face and sighed raggedly as the dream began to break up in his mind.
When the images were gone, he lay back down, hoping to sleep some more, but sleep was long in coming. He felt a sense of foreboding that he couldn't explain, and he didn't know from whence it came. It was there and wouldn't let him go until long into the night. The rest of his dreams were untroubled.
*****
Kuno couldn't sleep. The events of the day weighed heavily upon the young man. He stood in the dojo in his family's palatial house and practiced his swordsmanship. He was sweat drenched and exhausted, but still sleep was denied to him. His stomach hurt abysmally from where Saotome had hit him, and his back was sore from where he landed after said punch.
He huffed and puffed as he exerted himself beyond the norm. He couldn't get the images of his beloved Akane cradling Ranma's head in her lap out of his head. He also couldn't get the face of the one called Daniel out of his mind, either. The look on his face was one that Kuno never wanted to see directed at him again. It was a look that should have been carved onto a samurai's face mask, it belonged on the face of an oni, or an akuma. It was a horrible face to have directed at him, and it scared him more than he'd ever admit to anyone, even to himself.
So he practiced. He practiced to exhaust himself physically and mentally. He practiced so that maybe he could sleep. He practiced to forget.
*****
Ryoga looked up at the sign. How the hell had he ended up in Tokyo? He sighed and shouldered his umbrella. It would take him quite some time to get back to Nerima. He was resigned to the fact that he got lost easily, and he was resigned to the fact that the only way Akane enjoyed his presence was when he was P-chan. Not that he really liked being a pig, but it was better than nothing.
He looked up at the sky and prayed to whatever god or spirit might be listening that it didn't rain. It would take him long enough to get back to Nerima at his usual pace, but as a small pig, it would take too long.
*****
Cologne looked at the sleeping form of her great-granddaughter. She slept soundly, though Cologne did not. The small woman had been distracted all day, since she felt the hate that started, grew and then disappeared all within the space of five minutes. It disturbed her, but she didn't know why. It wasn't directed towards her, or Shampoo, but it unsettled her nonetheless.
She sighed and turned from the doorway and nearly ran into the kneecaps of Mousse. She glared up at the young man but he didn't notice. He was too busy crying. He stared at Shampoo and cried, and Cologne was tempted to break his knees for peeping on her granddaughter while she slept. Instead, she took her staff and cracked him over the head with it.
He didn't make a sound, but grabbed his head and looked down at Cologne, seeing her there for the first time. He started to stammer out a response, but just gave up in favor of turning bright red and running for his own room.
Stupid boy, Cologne thought as she closed the door to her granddaughter's room. She walked to her own room and left the door open a crack. She would make sure Mousse stayed in his room this time, if her mind wasn't so preoccupied. Sleep would be denied to her that night as her concerns and unanswered questions tumbled around in her mind.
*****
Ranma sleep was undisturbed, but it was not all that peaceful. He dreamed strange things of a strange world that was like his, but at the same time completely different. He dreamed of a midnight rendezvous with Kasumi, one that didn't end with her almost running back into the house. He dreamed of strange demons having sex with mutilated corpses. He dreamed of strange men having stranger dreams.
He dreamed of many things, but would remember none of them in the morning.
*****
Daniel slept soundly in his room in Ranma's mind. His dreams were peaceful and uneventful. He seemed to be the only one of the major players who slept well that night, or any night thereafter.