Disclaimer: Me? Own Ranma ½? Well of COURSE I do, silly! ^_^ Hey look, the Maple Leafs just won the Stanley Cup! In other words, if you did not understand my implied meaning in the bashing of the Leafs (Leaf fans please don't hurt me! My brother is already threatening to beat me over the head with his Leafs hockey stick), I do not own Ranma ½, which is quite a shame, because most of the guys in it (namely Kuno and Ryoga and Mousse) wouldn't be wearing much clothing a lot of the time.
Rating: I think we already know, don't we? ^_~
WARNING: this chapter contains slight yuri (f/f) content, but not a heck of a lot. Most of it's not really MEANT to be yuri, but really just a peek into one of the character's more psychotic traits. Yeah. . . so, uh, just so's ya know.
Author's Notes: Now things are finally starting to pick up - gomen nasai for the extremely slow beginnings. I have a horrible habit of doing that. ^^;; Anyhoot, once again I would like to thank both Naomi and Silver Phoenix for their marvelous ego-boosting and unscrupulous promotion of my fic. I suggest reading both Naomi Athena, Naomi, Silver Phoenix, and Silver Sunshine's fanfics. You will NOT be disappointed.
Okay, this chapter's been tumbling and reshaping itself in my head for a while now. There'll be more interaction with the cast of Ranma ½, and I think this chapter isn't half bad all in all. In fact, I added a new section of it while contemplating why Coke is black. oO;;
So, by the way, I do hope you enjoy Chapter 6 of. . .
Pandora
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The brilliant ball of fire emerged from the earth's crust; its birth illuminating the vast lands stretching before it. Like a parched man in the desert stumbling upon an oasis, the land greedily drank up the sun's rays, absorbing its warmth and radiance and lightening the newborn day in pink and yellow hues.
Yet one household remained as black as the deathly night; at least, on the inside it seemed to be. It was as if the dwelling purposely deflected the rays of the sun, bouncing them away to shed light on some other cheery and safe place where young children would soon be playing and where birds were singing their contented little hearts out, oblivious to the chaos and destruction within the broken homestead that was the Kuno Mansion.
The brave specks of sunshine that did manage to permeate the darkness of the bedroom which had belonged to Kodachi Kuno were soon swallowed up by the puddles of drying blood on the floor, reflected by the broken glass strewn haphazardly around the room, or dissipated slowly as the rays traveled through the grim interior and out into the equally stark hallway. The air was stale; the stench of blood overwhelming, and steam wafting out of the nearby bathroom. The only sound that could be heard in the eerie silence of the bedroom hallway was the hiss of the shower, the steady shoots of water beating against the ivory bathtub's surface.
He sat there lethargically, his head resting against the cool, pearly wall of the shower, allowing the water to pelt his clothed body. His blue yukata was plastered to his skin, as was his hakama, his bare feet poking out of the ends. His legs were bent, resting on top of each other, fitting the bathtub perfectly. The boy's hardened grey eyes concentrated on the watery blood that was swirling around in circles around the drain, hypnotizing him with its bright red colour, penetrating his eyes and affixing itself well into his brain.
Tatewaki continued to watch the blood wash off his clothing, running in a river towards the drain, disappearing and never to be seen again. His stoic and solid expression betrayed no emotion; his thoughts and feelings stayed only as his own thoughts and feelings, keeping everything wrapped up tight within himself.
Not that it would have mattered.
Rivulets of water creased down his rigid features, dripping off his chin to meet with hundreds upon hundreds of other tiny water droplets, forming a puddle, then a river, flowing mindlessly down the drain with the blood, which was still coursing in surprisingly large quantities. Staring at the red life forces of his sister, his love, his enemy, and himself forced his mind to issues he had long since buried and mostly forgotten; issues he wished he had managed to keep entombed and ultimately dead, however the dark side of his mind, which was starting to become more and more apparent with each passing minute, would not allow that. His mind drifted back to the scene he had stumbled upon last night.
Kodachi's bedroom. Destroyed. Bloodied. Askew. It was so much like. . . like. . . so long ago. He was only a child; oh gods he didn't want to remember it, but his mind was forcing him back to the memories. The horrible memories. . .
There was a soft knocking sound on the bathroom door. Kuno's head snapped up, the dream-like - no, nightmare-like - state the boy was about to enter had vanished, and the kendoist was swept back into reality like the blood and water was helplessly swept into the bathtub drain.
"Master Kuno?" was the soft, questioning voice coming through the other side of the door. Tatewaki recognized the voice immediately as belonging to the Kuno mansion's resident butler, Sasuke.
Sasuke was obviously just as distraught as Kuno; the two siblings had been almost like the children he never had. They were the closest family Sasuke had ever had, and losing an important part of it must have come as a great shock and horribly depressing matter. However, Sasuke being Sasuke, the ninja manservant tried not to let it show too much; he still had one of his surrogate children to be strong for. It comforted Kuno to some degree, though it was too minuscule to really feel on the outside; but deep down, Kuno was thankful for Sasuke's actions. It was a hell of a lot more than his real father ever tried to do for his two kids.
Wiping the damp, heavy bangs from his eyes and effectively slicking his hair back in a disheveled and odd manner, Tatewaki stood from the shower on shaky legs, almost slipping as he went to turn off the faucet. After the water had stopped and Kuno found a dry and folded towel stacked neatly near the bathtub, Kuno answered Sasuke.
"Yes Sasuke?" Kuno asked, his voice betraying how mentally and emotionally exhausted the boy truly was. He shuffled about the bathroom, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes and observing his pathetic face in the mirror. He noticed there was still blood on his yukata.
Kuno suddenly had the urge to punch the mirror. Hard. Acting on his abrupt desire, Tatewaki yelled and struck the glass full-force, his balled fist shattering the mirror into pieces, each of them screaming out as they clattered and clanged on the ivory veneer of the sink and counter, the shining pieces looking up at Kuno. His reflection now officially destroyed, Kuno rose his hand to eye-level, which was still balled in a fist. Two particularly sharp pieces stuck out on his knuckles, deep red blood trickling down his hand, to be quickly absorbed by the sleeve of his damp yukata sleeve, the water once again mingling with the crimson blood.
To his surprise and horror, he didn't feel a thing. It was as if his body was numb, his skin and nerves losing all feeling whatsoever; testing this, he plucked the first piece of glass out of his fist quickly, marveling at how the thick red blood coated and was reflected in the shard of a once beautiful mirror. He tossed it aside, throwing it into a sea of glass pieces of all different shapes and sizes. It was a rather minor cut, actually. If it was so minor, why did he find he had tears dripping out of his eyes?
The second piece of glass was a different story. Long, sharp, and deep, pain actually began to register in Tatewaki's mind as he tugged at the mirror shard, trying to slide it out of his hand. With a disgusting slurping sound, the glass finally revoked its claim in Kuno's fist, its elongated and deadly sharp point smothered in red blood. Without thought, the teenager crushed the shard of glass in his other hand, closing his powerful fingers around the fragment. Opening them revealed a mound of sparkling dust and tiny, crunching pieces of glass; he faced his palm to the pile of mirror shards and dumped them unceremoniously onto the substantially fractured mirror.
"Master Kuno??" Sasuke's voice rang out again, this time with much more concern and worry evident in his tone. An empty smile crawled onto Kuno's face. Walking towards the bathroom door, Tatewaki turned the knob and opened it slowly, so as not to startle Sasuke. It opened towards Kuno, allowing the small ninja manservant to see his master in full view.
Shocked at how horrible his Master Kuno looked, Sasuke tried to search his minds for the words to string together a basic sentence, but found none befitting the mansion's current mood. With a deep sigh, Tatewaki rubbed his eyes and stumbled out of the bathroom and towards his own room to find a change of clothing to replace his dripping wet samurai garb, and to fix his hair. It would not do to look so. . . dysfunctional.
"Where are you going, Master Kuno?" Sasuke questioned, watching the retreating back of the young master. With Kuno waving his hand and mumbling, Sasuke drew from his master's quiet and very simple reply that the boy was getting ready for school.
"Are. . . are you sure you're up for school today, Master Kuno?" The ninja watched as Tatewaki slowly turned his gaze to the him, Sasuke looking at him with concerned eyes. Kuno's face was frighteningly devoid of life, and his eyes were like looking into an unpleasant and never-ending abyss.
"What do you mean, Sasuke?" he asked, his voice quiet with an extremely depressed undertone, "nothing's wrong."
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He lithely jumped off the chain link fence as he and his unwillingly named fiancee entered through the gates of Furinkan High. For once, neither of them were stopped by an onslaught of either manic principals, Amazonian delivery girls, bandana clad lost boys, spatula wielding okonomiyaki chefs, or poetry reciting kendoists. From what Ranma could see, said aggressors were nowhere to be found; hopefully, once he inevitably confronted one of the other fiancees or rivals, they would be in good moods. Although fighting was usually quite a fun pastime for Ranma Saotome, he had had a particularly rough start to the day.
Who would have thought Akane wanted to prepare breakfast too? Ranma had risen late that fateful morning and, in his haste, forgot to look at what was on his plate. Although the ungodly stench should have given the chief du jour away, the pigtailed martial artist's stomach was complaining so much he was shoveling the toxicities down his throat at Amaguriken-like speed. His insides were paying the high price for his lateness and carelessness dealing with food cooked within the Tendo prefecture; the welt from Akane's mallet blow to his skull was of no help either.
In any case, the aquasexual boy simply did not want to deal with any other attackers/romantic interests/insane people claiming to be part of the Anything Goes School of Fingernail Painting or Martial Arts Sleeping or some such ludicrous style of fighting. He glanced over at Akane and noticed her fingernails were painted a shade of blue to match her hair colour. In his tired state, he briefly wondered if Akane was the secret leader of the Anything Goes School of Fingernail Painting; although the hack job on her fingernails wasn't really anything to be proud of. Streaks of blue were all over the skin on her fingers, and what managed to remain on the nail was promptly chipping off and leaving big, ugly spots of fleshy-white. His critique on her fingernails was promptly interrupted by an airborne briefcase to his head.
"Stop looking at me, pervert!" Akane shouted at Ranma, snatching up her book case once again and stomping off to some unknown part of the school grounds. Sighing and rubbing at the sore spot on his forehead which began to rival his previous cranial injury in size and pain, Ranma Saotome wandered about the field. He began to realize just how boring getting to school on time without answering the challenge of an opponent and duking it out for an amazed audience was. Ranma looked up at the large clock on the frontal wall of Furinkan High; he had fifteen whole minutes until the bell rang. Pondering how it was possible to get up late and still be insanely early for school, Ranma leaned against the cool cement wall of Furinkan, allowing himself a rare moment to contemplate his place in the vast universe. Autumn was drawing to a close, and the wind was progressively becoming chillier by the day; however Ranma didn't mind, seeing that he wasn't really bugged by the wintry weather.
Ranma suddenly felt the sensation of ice cold water being dumped on his head from up above. In the window, two teachers were debating whether they should have looked below them before dumping out the excess water from the fish tank in the science lab; however the disagreement was soon settled by a promised cup of coffee and cigarette in the teacher's lounge. While the two educators went off, a now female - and soaking wet - Ranma Saotome silently fumed. Since his introspective musings on his extremely mixed up lifestyle was now officially cut short by the fish tank's icy water (the insufferable temperature probably killed the fish, Ranma concluded), the now red-headed girl decided to wander through the halls of Furinkan to find some hot water. The janitor would most likely have some on hand; since Ranma's arrival at the school, the custodian usually had a kettle on the fire, just in case. Ranma's was one of those cases at the moment.
His sopping wet feet squished and echoed in the empty hallways of the high school, leaving a trail of watery footprints behind. Hoping that no one would slip on the water, place the blame on him (which they always somehow did) and sue or demand a martial arts battle royale depending on who they were, Ranma turned the corner in the hallway, scanning the passage for any signs of the school caretaker. So far he found none; the janitor's closet was empty, and he hadn't seen any signs of the old man wandering around the halls.
Ranma sighed in disdain at his predicament and was about to venture back outside when, as if just an afterthought, the most beautiful music wafted down the hallway, carrying lightly on the air to rest in Ranma's acute ears. His curiosity temporarily overriding his desire to find some hot water, his feet seemed to work on their own as he closed his eyes and listened to the music, trusting in his sharpened instincts to direct him to the music's source. The instrument sound like a violin; it was expertly played, never missing a beat. The song itself was beautiful in its melancholic appeal; the notes were sorrowful yet lovely, as if the song were an ocean crashing deep within your soul, burying your conscious thought and allowing the dreaming that reserved itself for sleep to emerge to the surface. For some reason, the song really spoke to Ranma; in turn, Ranma's searching for the violinist was yielding more fruit than his search for the custodian. The music was becoming louder and louder, until finally the red-headed girl stopped in front of a door that was slightly ajar. Gently pushing it open, Ranma was more than surprised at who she found to be creating the harmonious and sad melody.
There stood none other than Tatewaki Kuno, dressed for once in the school's white shirt and blue pants uniform, with his back to Ranma. The violin was sitting comfortably under his chin, the bow gliding across the strings on the wooden instrument as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The pigtailed martial artist's mind partly refused to connect the hauntingly beautiful violin music to the infuriatingly thick headed kendoist playing it, yet he couldn't deny what he was seeing. The sun's rays danced along the polished redwood of the instrument, glinting off and reflecting the boy performing the euphony of notes, accenting his deep brown hair and silhouetting his muscular form in the large window he faced. Ranma watched in amazement as Kuno's fingers expertly wove around and pressed down on all the different strings with incredible speed and accuracy; Ranma went as far to compare it to a martial arts battle between the fingers and the strings. The fingers pressed, the strings pulled, and different results were awarded with different techniques. It was an incredibly breathtaking sight.
With a long draw of the bow on a deep, rich note, the violin's music ceased, filling the room with a resounding silence. Ranma-chan was still entranced with the rather strange scene, even as Kuno carefully set down the instrument and the bow on a nearby desk and walked over to the window, hopping up onto the ledge. He looked out through the glass pane, observing the high school students of Furinkan High chatting away, playing rugby or some other tackle sport, or attempting to get closer to that special someone who, frankly, just didn't concern themselves with the fact that their suitor-to-be existed. They seemed so careless. . .
"Kuno?" Ranma-chan asked, albeit hesitantly, successfully cutting off Kuno's train of thought. Since his introspective was temporarily derailed, Kuno figured he might as well acknowledge the presence that stood across from him; he was a bit curious as to who it was, the distant voice seemed familiar. The kendoist's head turned around to meet the face of an all too familiar person standing the hallway, her hands resting on the doorframe of the classroom.
"Pigtailed Girl!" Kuno exclaimed, half in surprise, half in ingrained reaction. Ranma prepared himself for Kuno to rush over and squeeze the living daylights out of her as per usual, but instead he simply gave her a look that was. . . odd. He was smiling his idiotic and hopelessly infatuated smile one moment, and the next; his eyes flickered, his smile slowly faded, and his face was set into an expression of staidness. It wasn't an angry scowl, it wasn't a lustful grin, and it certainly wasn't an arrogant display either. His face looked worse for wear too; there were dark bags encircling his eyes, and the gash on his cheek stood out nastily against his now pale skin. It unsettled Ranma more than he would've liked.
Letting out a deep sigh, Tatewaki put his legs up onto the ledge of the window, resting his arms on one raised knee, his other outstretched leg filling out the space of the window's rim completely. After a couple minutes, he drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them, continuing to stare out the window to the grassy fields of Furinkan High.
"They look so happy," Ranma heard Kuno murmur, a statement that had obviously meant to be in the mental state only but had escaped the kendoist's lips. Ranma tentatively took a couple steps forward.
"You okay, Kuno?" he asked, his voice at a pitch higher than he would have liked. From what Ranma could perceive, the boy on the window ledge mumbled a reply asserting the pigtailed martial artist that he was indeed fine. Of course, Ranma being Ranma, tact was simply never a part of any of his conversations involving sensitive matters. Nimbly, the boy turned girl joined Kuno on the window sill, his legs casually hanging of the side. His eyes studied the kendoist's surprisingly reserved form, how the window reflected his face and the deep red gash that ran across his cheek, how his eyes looked passive and mournful. It was strange to Ranma; shouldn't he have been up and proclaiming that he was going to smite the evil sorcerer Saotome and claim The Pigtailed Girl and Akane Tendo as his true loves, brandishing his wooden sword as always? Something was terribly amiss.
Ranma mentally berated himself.
'Why am I here anyway? I mean, it's Kuno!' he thought, tearing his gaze away from the other boy and, now looking out the window as well, wracking his brain for the exact reason why Ranma was there in the first place. Ranma and Kuno weren't exactly what you would call best friends - hell, simply friends was a stretch at best - and their relationship was two-sided to the extreme. One moment, Kuno;s attacking the pigtailed boy, blazoning how he would, how did Kuno put it, 'be vanquished under mine blade of justice and sent to meet Hades in the underworld', and a cup of cold water later, the boy's all over his busty, cursed form and proclaiming how they were meant to be together and that she was his one true love. Confusing? Not once it started to become a nigh daily routine; pounding the information into his thick skull didn't seem to faze him one bit, and explaining it only served to perplex the kendoist even more. Truly he was a lost cause.
So why did Ranma stay on the window ledge with him? Ranma admitted that, like many of his rival friends, they had certainly been through strange occurrences together; including being marooned on an island, battling through the Seven Lucky Gods martial artists to rescue Akane from the Chinese kidnappers, martial arts figure skating competitions against a kleptomaniac bent on owning everything she deemed to be "cute"; the list went on and on. Of course, Ranma *did* leave Kuno and the others floating in the Sea of Japan during the Lucky Gods incident; they could've all been dead. . .
'But they aren't. I mean, there really wasn't anything I could do,' he thought, sighing and hopping off the window sill, deciding to leave Kuno with his thoughts. However, he expected the brown haired boy to leap up any minute and glomp him like there was no tomorrow like he always did, showing that, indeed, the whole "deep in thought" was just a front.
No such thing happened. Tatewaki remained on the ledge, stagnantly peering through the window pane with eyes that looked far too metaphysical and drained to belong to The Blue Thunder of Furinkan High. Where was the blissful vapidness? Where was the confusion? Where was the lust? Sighing, Ranma turned to leave the silent room.
"Kodachi. . ." the pigtailed boy-girl heard Tatewaki breath from behind him. Ranma turned his head to face the form of Kuno, still curled up in his fetal position, but with one hand palm-down on the glass, as if he could touch something that was quite distant. Ranma noticed the deep wounds on his knuckles; in fact, they were bleeding profusely, causing red droplets to find their way down the glass and drip onto Kuno's pant leg. Ranma was now absolutely determined to find out what was going on with the boy before him.
"Something wrong with your sister?" the pigtailed martial artist quietly implored, entranced by the idiosyncracy of the situation presented to him. Ranma saw Kuno visibly flinch at the mention of Kodachi from the pigtailed girl, his gaze dropping from the window to stare downwards at himself, withdrawing his bloody hand from the window and looking at it, a mixture of anger and pain washing over the kendoist's face.
"Kuno?" Ranma prodded gently. He didn't really like that expression on Kuno's feature; the term "upsetting" was an understatement. Tatewaki expelled a shaky breath, the sun which was previously glaring in his eyes now hidden behind a passing grey cloud. A fitting turn of events in the sky, Tatewaki thought dryly.
"Kodachi," Tatewaki began, his voice soft and low, "she. . . I don't even know if she's alive or not; oh gods there was so much blood. . ." His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, and the moisture that had been steadily gathering in his eyes began to spill out against Kuno's will, no matter how hard he tried to stop it. The tears mingled with the cut on his face, discharging a watery red liquid that traveled down his cheek and to his chin, where it dribbled down his neck and onto his white shirt, staining it with an off-crimson tinge.
"I don't even know if she's alive. . .!" he sobbed quietly into his arms, his face now hidden from view. Kuno felt ashamed to be crying like a woman in front of his beloved Pigtailed Girl, but no matter how he tried, the tears simply would not cease. Even during his most painful kendo practices he had not cried like this; no broken bone or ugly wound compared to the pain of loneliness he was feeling at the present moment. Surely the Pigtailed Girl would think him weak after viewing him in his pathetic state; he would be even more alone than he was right now, which in turn produced even more drops of salty water that fell on Kuno's already wet face and lips.
At that moment, Ranma felt many emotions flow through him. From what he had gathered from Tatewaki's spoken words, something terrible had happened to Kodachi, something potentially capable of killing her. What it was, Ranma could only guess at the moment; however there was also the matter of the boy before him.
His heart seemed to twist inside his chest, watching Kuno pouring his heart out through the tears dribbling down his cheeks. Ranma wasn't used to seeing Kuno so vulnerable, so deeply hurt; while tugging at his heart strings it was almost frightening at the same time. Something really was wrong; although Kuno was a dramatic person, Ranma could usually tell the difference between over-exaggerated acting and true hurt. Whatever was hurting Tatewaki was very deep; not knowing what else to do, Ranma approached Kuno slowly and deliberately, placing his female hand on the kendoist's trembling back, trying to comfort Kuno as much as he knew how. With the way Ranma was raised, we wasn't familiar with dealing with emotional matters.
Kuno's body was wracked with sobs, the boy doing his best to hide his tears. It wasn't helping him any. Ranma could feel the trembling skin beneath his hand and Kuno's shirt; it felt awful, knowing that somebody was hurting so badly.
"It's okay," Ranma murmured, not sure of what else to say, rubbing Kuno's back in an attempt to be partially comforting. The sound of Kuno crying imbued the empty classroom, each tear dripping painfully audible to both of the boys' ears. Ranma also noticed that a faint, dark blue aura was encompassing the kendoist; which was odd, since Ranma knew that auras where only supposed to show when in battle with someone, when the chi's flame was fanned by the adrenaline and power of a fight. Even under his school shirt, Ranma could feel his skin become progressively colder; the pigtailed martial artist also saw that every breath discharged by Kuno was visible, as if it was below freezing in the room. Blinking in complete surprise, Ranma withdrew his hand from Tatewaki's increasingly freezing back, looking in awe at the minute ice crystals forming themselves on his fingers.
Kuno also noticed something when the tears began freezing mid-way on his cheeks. His eyes wide in horror, Kuno realized what was happening - his power was starting to manifest.
'I can't let it, I don't know how to control it!' the boy thought frantically, doing his best to wipe away the tears before they solidified on his face. Gritting his teeth in determination, Tatewaki squeezed his eyes closed and began to concentrate on something other than the pain and loneliness he was feeling; to keep his mind off what happened to Kodachi. It was torturous, trying to find a happy moment in the midst of the chaos and suffering that wrought his mind, to see a light at the end of the tunnel.
Ranma backed away from Tatewaki, his eyes fixated on the riveting glow that surrounded the boy before him. The pigtailed martial artist had long since recognized the incandescence that encompassed Kuno as not being chi; Ranma had experience with all sorts of battle auras and chi, but whatever Kuno was creating was definitely not of chi origin. Although he was a good couple feet back, Ranma could still feel the bitter cold that enveloped the kendoist bite at his skin, leaving ice crystallites to mark where the aura had scraped him.
Tatewaki, meanwhile, was writhing on the ledge, almost as if in pain. Pushing his thoughts from his mind and trying to separate his emotion from his soul was almost impossible for the poor boy; as if there was a force inside his mind pushing him back. The all consuming desire to just allow his sadness to sweep his mind and fill his body was overwhelming; it would just be easier to let his power take him in whatever direction it wished. Kuno knew, though, that if he did, surely the Pigtailed Girl would be injured; the last thing he wanted was to hurt anybody, especially not his love. This single thought fueled his internal struggle.
Suddenly, the glow surrounding Kuno flared violently in every direction, temporarily blinding Ranma. Shielding his eyes as best as possible while still looking at Tatewaki through a squinted stare, Ranma witnessed the aura flash a mix of white and blue for a split second before disappearing entirely, stunning the pigtailed martial artist for a moment. Faint traces of blue specks were still visible, floating off the shivering kendoist and disappearing into the rays of the sun shining just beyond the reach of the window. His breath still visible and the freezing feeling crawling up his spine and throughout his skin, Kuno's body trembled horribly and helplessly, hugging himself as tightly as possible for any extra warmth. The black dots that started appearing before Tatewaki's eyes didn't help either; he figured the overwhelming black was also the reason his eyelids suddenly felt so heavy. His hands began to loosen around his legs despite his will to keep them there so he wouldn't feel so cold, and his weight began to sink to his right side, which slowly started to pull him off the window's edge.
Ranma-chan, blinking the remainders of the flash of light out of his eyes, saw what was happening. He instinctively began to react to Kuno's impending fall, but was stopped when they made eye contact. Kuno's eyes looked tired beyond belief; and also empty. An emotion quickly flashed through Tatewaki's grey eyes; something that looked almost like a pleading sort of expression. It passed within a second, and the trance Ranma was put in was cut short with the dull thud of Kuno's body hitting the ground. The boy turned girl ran over to the fallen young man, kneeling down and looking for signs of life; putting two fingers under his neck, there was a strong pulse indeed, Ranma figured that he was just in a very deep unconscious state. Sighing halfway in relief and halfway in confusion, Ranma managed to heft the boy up into his arms, thinking all the while how much easier it would be to carry Tatewaki if he had a cup of warm water with him. Putting Kuno in a position that was comfortable for Ranma and hopefully comfortable for the other boy, the pigtailed girl made his way out of the room, down the hallway, and in the general direction of the nurse's office.
Inside the empty classroom, the forgotten violin and bow sat. Although dwindling in glow and physicality, blue sparkles danced along the redwood, being drawn to a certain place on the back of the wooden instrument, cementing themselves into a certain area. The blue intangible sparks wove around a carved section on the back of the violin, swirling and illuminating the letters 'T.K.' engraved lovingly in beautiful, almost calligraphic characters. It flashed wonderfully before the indigo dissipated from existence altogether, leaving the inscribed figures as normal as they were before.
*=*=*
Voices surrounded her; strange voices, ones she did not recognize. In her semi-conscious state, Kodachi was fairly sure that there were two females and a male, judging from their voice tones. A sharp pain in her side forced her into full consciousness, aware of a sickly, sticky liquid-like sensation surrounding her face and body. Her bleary eyes registered the fluid as being blood, which was fast drying to her once completely white silken nightgown, the small black roses attached to the base of the straps encircling her shoulders slick with blood as well. The red life force near her eye was annoying her; attempting to move her hand to wipe it away, Kodachi found she was bound quite tightly to a very cold feeling table; almost like an operating table. Fear slowly made its way through the fog in Kodachi's mind and permeated her essence, the combined cold of the table, thin clothing, and absolute fright of what was to become of her making Kodachi's entire body shiver. Blinking her eyes, Kodachi attempted to focus on the people around her, who were currently engaged in a conversation, however the extremely bright light shining down directly into her eyes forbade Kodachi's view to include that of her presumed captors' faces. The voices around her continued talking.
"We sent you to kidnap her, not mortally wound her," one voice said, a clearly British accent worming its way through her beautiful yet deadly voice.
"And I have done exactly that. The girl is not dead," the other woman's voice replied, this one's edge as deadly as a sharpened katana blade. Kodachi presumed the woman with the cold, hard tone was also the owner of the blood red eyes she had seen in her bedroom. Kodachi was deathly afraid of that woman.
"Was it wise sending this psychopath to complete the job that required finesse and skill?" the male voice asked, obviously German. A cool, calm, and collected tone he had, and obviously resented the woman with the red eyes and arm sickles.
"This 'psychopath' completed the task as required. I would kill you where you stand, however that is impossible, is it not?" the ninja woman who captured Kodachi stated, disdain and just a hint of snideness tainting her articulation. There was a 'hmpf' from the German man.
"Children, stop bickering. I believe our guest is awake," the British woman stated, effectively halting the low-key yet undoubtedly perilous verbal fight that was about to ensue between the ninja and the German man. All three of them turned their attention to the girl strapped to the table. Kodachi attempted to move out of their gaze, though knowing it to be impossible. The movement cause a wave of pain to course through Kodachi's body, the girl emitting a loud and very audible gasp of pain.
"I wouldn't try to move if I were you. If you puncture your lung and die, you're no use to us," the British woman stated coldly, looking down at Kodachi. Turning the intensity of the light down on Kodachi's eyes, the Black Rose could now see who she was dealing with.
The first woman was the British one who was speaking to her. She wore an outfit consisting of only leather, and there wasn't much at that. Her glorious mane of orange hair fell behind her, resting lightly on her back; her aquamarine eyes bore holes into Kodachi's, as if daring the Black Rose to oppose her so she could cut her down to size. Judging by the deadly gleam in her eye, Kodachi surmised that the term 'cut down to size' could mean both physically, emotionally, or most likely both.
The second female she recognized immediately; Kodachi doubted she would ever forget that face as long as she lived. Her crimson eyes were running up and down the bound girl's body, making her extremely uncomfortable. She wore the same outfit she remembered the ninja captor in; the sight of the blood caked all over it made Kodachi want to throw up - she knew for a fact that it wasn't the woman's own blood, but her own.
The man was an interesting sight indeed. He had a mop of brown hair, and wore a slick, black trench coat, covering much of his body. He also wore a jet black shirt underneath the coat, and Kodachi assumed the rest of the gaijin's ensemble was black as well. His brooding face unsettled her; however his features were by no means unattractive. Actually, he looked to be truly handsome, with a defined and chiseled face that was at the same time dark and agonized. His gaze transfixed Kodachi's for a moment.
"Pardon the restraints. We had to make sure you didn't escape, you see," the orange haired woman continued explaining nonchalantly, "for we did go through all that trouble capturing you." The ninja woman cleared her throat.
"Right, Kurai went through all that trouble of capturing you." Looking between the three strangers around her, Kodachi's pretty features soon settled into an all-too-familiar stance of anger and sly resentment.
"Well thank you for going through all that trouble for me," the black haired girl spit out sarcastically, trying to lift her head from the table for an intimidation factor which was obviously not available to her, "but I would rather you hadn't. I demand you return me home now!" Being rich had automatically instilled a sense of authority over others in Kodachi since she was a young girl; money was good for things other than those of the materialistic kind. Kodachi had never really been the quiet, shy, spineless type either, who backed down from a confrontation; actually, she usually disposed of her rivals beforehand by poisoning them in their sleep the day before. Although the usual job of infecting her enemies was not an option in this case, it didn't mean she was going to back down - tied to a cold, sterile metal table with half her body broken or not.
"I'm sorry, but we can't do that Fraulein," the trench coated man told her in his thick accent, resting his arms on the edge of the table, his face now closer to Kodachi's. The ninja woman, Kurai, was silent and watching the man in a begrudged sort of way, not moving an inch. The British woman dressed in leather did much the same thing as the German man.
"That would defeat the purpose of your stay here in the Underground, now wouldn't it?" she purred, her tone low and deadly; Kodachi could feel her breath on her neck, which sent shivers up and down her battered body. The British woman stared Kodachi down, her turquoise eyes embedding themselves into the black haired teenager's mind; this lasted for a few seconds, after which the orange haired female raised her right hand and snapped. Kurai, after remaining stationary for almost the entire time, moved briskly and gripped the edge of the steel table, moving it forwards and past the two other members of the mysterious 'Underground', Kodachi's eyes gazing at the woman with the leather and orange tresses until she was out of sight.
Kurai the ninja woman's walking form was nearly all Kodachi could see the entire time she led the rhythmic gymnast down a very dark, very austere, and very cold hallway, dimly lit by low-powered lights suspended from the ceilings. It was all chillingly sanitary, like some sort of demented hospital carved straight from a hunk of stainless steel. Amazed that the only noise that she could hear was the squeak of the wheels fastened tightly to the legs of the table, Kodachi attempted to distract her gaze from Kurai's piercing red eyes, but found it nigh impossible. The woman was silent and stealthy, like when she had shanghaied the teenager from her bedroom late at night. Eerily efficient, collected, with a psychotic calm. Kodachi wished desperately to be anywhere but with the black haired ninja. Although she kept a very haughty and confident front, Kodachi was scared to death on the inside; the only thought that kept her from outright screaming her lungs out was the fact she knew that her darling Ranma would be coming to her rescue any minute now. She just knew it. . .
Dwelling and drowning in thoughts of the pigtailed martial artist, Kodachi barely noticed when she and Kurai entered a cold and decidedly empty box of a room, consisting of an under-padded floor and overly smooth, metallic walls that smelled of antiseptic and the pure, unadulterated insanity of captors past. Shivering despite herself, the Black Rose spotted blotches of dried blood that had been left caked on, obviously too ingrained in the metal to be removed; perhaps they were simply kept there as reminders to new prisoners of what laid ahead for them, Kodachi could only guess at the moment. The movement of the table the girl was strapped to stopped in the middle of the room, a single lamp hung directly above on the ceiling bathing Kodachi in a macabre sort of light. Kodachi could feel the straps holding her down on the table being loosened; Kurai's delicate hands were making extremely quick work of them.
"Hold still," the ninja woman demanded after removing the last bond. Kurai ripped the right side of Kodachi's once white nightgown, making a slit that reached up halfway between her knee and thigh. Her ivory white hands felt chilly on Kodachi's now exposed leg, which was bent at all the wrong angles.
"This will hurt," Kurai whispered. Kodachi realized with a start what the other woman was planning to do, but failed to respond quickly enough to prepare herself. With a sickeningly audible crack that ricocheted off the steel walls and through the room, Kurai's strong hands brutally set the broken bone back in its original place, which produced a cry of pain from Kodachi. Quickly, Kurai did the same for Kodachi's other leg, also tearing another slit on the other side of her silken nightgown, setting the bone with another loud snap. The Black Rose bit down on her lip so hard it began to bleed, the taste of her own life force dripping onto her tongue and unintentionally sliding down her throat. Such was the same sort of happening for Kodachi's left arm and right wrist.
"Get up," the ninja woman ordered after performing her bone-setting on the rhythmic gymnast. Kodachi tested her legs and arms; to her surprise, they could move almost perfectly, although there was still a fair amount of pain accompanying the movement of the joints. Shakily standing on her two legs, Kodachi found that she was incredibly weak and fell immediately into a heap on the hard floor below her, a rather nasty gash in her side sending out a wave of hurt throughout her physique. Kodachi attempted to bite back the cry that was irking its way up her throat, but failed once she attempted to stand once more and fell against a nearby wall, sliding down pathetically until she was crumpled on the ground, resting on her mostly uninjured side. Although Kodachi heard the table being wheeled out of the room, she really didn't pay much attention to it; rather, her focus was on the woman coming ever closer to her form on the floor.
Kurai knelt before Kodachi's fallen body, tilting her head slightly, her mouth and eyes stoic and expressionless. Kodachi refused to meet the woman's gaze, her own head hanging by her right side, staring at the ground. After a few moments, Kurai's left hand cupped Kodachi's right cheek, gently but forcefully moving Kodachi's face to meet her own, Kurai memorizing every single cut, bruise, line, and feature on Kodachi's pretty face.
"I like you, Pretty," the ninja woman breathed, the two women's faces extremely close, with Kurai's index finger moving slowly up and down Kodachi's cheek, "and I don't wish to hurt you more than is necessary." Kodachi felt absolutely scared; she knew that the woman kneeling in front of her was very strong, and Kodachi was very weak in the time being.
Hovering for a moment in front of her face, Kurai ever so slowly came closer and closer, making Kodachi even more uncomfortable. Pausing for a second, Kurai sighed onto the teenager's face.
"Your lip's bleeding," Kurai whispered, her eyes fluttering and half closed. Before Kodachi could react, the ninja woman's lips had covered hers, sucking gingerly on the bottom part of her mouth. Surprised and startled, Kodachi found herself to be numb through the entire experience; not just from shock, but from pure and simple disbelief of the whole situation.
'This is not happening, this is not happening' Kodachi repeated over and over in her mind, trying to shut her eyes and close herself off from the box of the world she was now in, but found that she couldn't. The ninja woman's eyes were half open, as if in ecstasy, and yet those damned red eyes never left Kodachi's fast watering brown ones for even a split second, not once allowing Kodachi to escape into her mind.
After a few minutes, Kurai's mouth drew back from the rhythmic gymnastic's lips. Kodachi's breath was shaky and labored, her fingers making their way up to the place where Kurai had invaded. Touching her quivering fingers lightly to the lip that was bleeding and drawing it back, Kodachi found that the wound had sealed up completely, and not a drop of blood was to be found. Kurai smiled wickedly, one fang protruding over her crimson lips.
"Welcome to your new home, Pretty," she breathed into Kodachi's ear; the Black Rose's shivering increased. Her malicious smile still plastered onto her horribly pale skin, Kurai, in an almost liquid-like grace, stood and walked from the metallic prison, closing the door tightly behind her. Kodachi heard a few locks clicking into place.
Alone, cold, and beaten bloody on the unforgivingly hard floor, Kodachi couldn't stop the tears that began to flow down her cut face; her sobs heard by no one except herself as they cruelly echoed across the dark and isolated prison.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Now you CAN'T say that this chapter was short. Yes, it's still all shrouded in mystery and such, but it will soon become clearer. I'm sorry that I didn't get this up by the end of January, but my internet up and decided to die on me. _O Gomen nasai for that.
Anyhoot, I'll work as fast as I can on Chapter 7. Thank you to those who reviewed this fic, I appreciate it SO MUCH! So don't forget to R/R, please! ^_^
