Disclaimer: Bwa ha ha ha! As secret leader of the special revitalizational organization known simply as ACROSS, it is quite natural that I would own everything in this fanfic, including all the characters! Yes, soon the world shall be rebuilt in my vision and it shall be perfect and we shall laugh and dance and sing and generally look very attractive whilst doing it and. . . waaaaaait a minute, I'm not Ilpalazzo. . . well gee, in comes my schizophrenia again. Oh hello nice men in white coats! Tut tut, you're slacking off, took you 15 minutes to track me down this time! Escaping has become so easy as of late; oh my, was that an injection you just put into my ar-gaaah. . . *thud*



Rating: R. This chapter has been closed captioned for the thinking impaired; parental discretion is strongly advised due to its violent content. In other words, if you get screwed in the head permanently because of my writings, it ain't my fault. Nyah.



Author's Notes: Okily dokily, according to Mr. Calendar the date is Friday, August 23rd. So this is when I start the fanfic. Fanfic starting now. Gotcha. I shall try to make the chapter come out in LESS than two months (eh heh heh. . .), but I'm not gonna promise anything. School is starting soon, but my first semester schedule is relatively easy, so I may be able to get some chapter stuff done. The story is really beginning to pick up now, so I'll probably find it easier to write too. ^.^

Awright then, thank you guys for reviewing! For those who have already reviewed, but only once (if you're still reading the story, that is. o_O), I really do love if people review every chapter. I am very much a review whore. ^_~



So blah. Now that my li'l introductions are done, please feel free to continue with the readingness of the story that is widely known as. . .



~*~

Pandora

~*~





"Yakitori!"

'Ah, so that's what I was smelling upstairs,' Nabiki thought as she made her way into the dining room, faintly amused by Ranma's need to exclaim the food's name before consuming it. She supposed it was a standard action for the boy; he was obviously a disenchanted youth, all he had left besides his dashing good looks and hordes of women chasing after him were the names of various foodstuffs. Well, actually no, he had his inane obsession with martial arts, but that just made Ranma's main focus in life look ever so much more idiotic. He probably hadn't even waited for the others to sit down to begin stuffing his face.

She paused in the doorway for a moment; true to her thoughts, there Ranma sat, his cheeks puffed in a not too dissimilar manner of how chipmunks look after cramming assorted nuts into their mouth for storage. Speckles of food littered his lips; the word "napkin" was obviously an extremely foreign concept to the young man, and Nabiki pondered exactly why in the name of Allah, Buddha and God so many girls liked him. Sure he was a looker, and yes, a six-pack could get one far in this day and age, but his manners and personality could make his handsome appeal completely null and void.

Besides, she had already seen Ranma naked; Kuno had him beat in a lot of ways in that category.

She startled herself with this particular comparison. Nabiki pretended her mind did not conjure up that particular thought and, with a slight shake of her head, she kneeled before the table in her normal spot beside Kasumi. The steaming plate of food before her provided adequate distraction and looked tremendously inviting; Kasumi had a gift when it came to food preparation, and the eldest Tendo daughter certainly spared no expense when it came to the art of dinner.

"Are you sure Tatewaki won't be joining us?" Kasumi asked Nabiki, her hand at her cheek once more, "there is quite a bit of extra food, and I'm sure he must be hungry."

"I'm sure he's fine, Kasumi, don't worry," Nabiki replied nonchalantly, picking up her chopsticks, taking off a piece of chicken from the bamboo skewer it was cooked on.

"Besides, those harpies over there'll clean out the extra food before he got a chance anyway," the brunette concluded, motioning with her chopsticked chicken over to where Ranma and his father, Genma, had not come up for a breather from inhaling their meal. Kasumi chuckled in a good-natured manner; although, her being Kasumi, there would be no other conceivable way for her to chuckle. The maternal girl seemed content with her younger sister's answer, and so she herself began to eat, although in a much more dignified way. However, comparing eating habits of your every day average Joe to that of the Saotome's could make a three-year-old child look good, so really, it wasn't saying much.

A few moments later, a slightly less irate Akane descended the stairs, entering the eating vicinity. Nabiki lazily noticed that her younger sister was cradling that black pig in her arms that she adored so much; what was his name, P-Chan? Yes, she concluded, if memory served its purpose, it was. The pig looked worse for wear; tired, circles under his eyes, generally happy to be carried around by Akane and fed by her.

Akane took her usual spot between Nabiki and her father; she was pointedly avoiding Ranma, however since it was such a normal occurrence, no one really cared anyhow. Well, that is, except for Ranma, who noticed that his fiancee was toting the small barn animal with the unmistakable bandana around its neck. He glared at both Akane and P-Chan, pausing his food-shoveling for a short period of time.

"Well, hello Mr. P," he said with a hint of disdain, propping his head up with his hand, his elbow resting contentedly on the table. With is other hand, he fiddled with his food with his chopsticks, for lack of anything else for his opposite appendage to do; he continued to stare at both his fiancee and the black piglet she held, said girl uttering soft cooing sounds to the bundle of black in her hands. P-Chan responded with pleased little squeals, especially when Akane ran her fingertips over his sensitive belly, tickling him, issuing from him short 'bwee'ing sounds that sounded strangely like laughter.

From what Nabiki could tell, the display made Ranma more than a tad disgusted. What Ranma ever had against Akane's pet piglet was completely beyond her, however Nabiki never believed Ranma to have the stablest of all psyches, so she wasn't too nonplused by his behaviour. Sighing, she turned her attention away from the two, where an argument was sure to start up.

"Stupid pig. Why d'you always carry him around whenever he shows up?"

"Because P-Chan is kind, sweet, and absolutely adorable, unlike *some* idiots I know."

"You're saying that a pig is more desirable than me??"

"I'm just stating the facts, you stupid pervert."

'Right on the nosey' the middle Tendo girl thought, mentally patting herself on the back for a premonition well-done. This in itself really wasn't a very big deal, seeing that putting Ranma and Akane in the same room will likely result in having the two at each other's throats after a short period of time. Despite this, Nabiki still felt she should at least commend herself somewhat, the timing really was impeccable.

Predictably enough, the small feud between the engaged teenagers ended with Akane somehow physically harming Ranma, and that was that. After the pigtailed martial artist recovered, muttered incomprehensible words under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'macho tomboy', a temporary truce, of sorts, was soundlessly communicated. Akane was busy with feeding and fussing over her dear P-Chan, and Ranma resorted to simply glaring with hatred at the tiny pig. Eventually, though, hunger won the young martial artist over, and that plate of yakitori was just so inviting. . .

There were a few moments of silence, save the slurping, gulping, all around cacophonous noises that the Saotomes were creating whilst partaking in the meal known as dinner. For some reason, the noises seemed to drive into Nabiki's brain like a jackhammer, annoying her to no end - a distraction would certainly be nice and welcome. Even Akane and Ranma's miniature war was more entertaining than this.

"Daddy, I'm going to turn on the T.V., alright?" Nabiki informed her father, who had just sat down at his place at the head of the table. He had won his game of shogi with Genma today, so spirits (and blood alcohol level) were high in the Tendo patriarch. Smiling kindly, Soun Tendo turned to his daughter.

"Of course Nabiki, whatever makes my little girl happy!" he assented, brushing a stray piece of long, black hair behind his ear. Nabiki simply rolled her eyes at her father's rather jovial state of mind; her entire family could be so over-emotional, and it became aggravating after a while. After a couple moments of searching, Nabiki found the remote control laying haphazardly close to the nearby couch; she flicked the television on, which displayed for Nabiki and all present the picture of two rather good-looking people in an embrace.

"Shinji. . ."

"Yes, Amiko?"

"I'm. . . I'm carrying your brother's child!"

Cheesy music leapt from the speakers as the camera focused on the male, or Shinji, as he was called in the program, attempting to zero in on his over-dramatic expression of shock. The scene faded to black and was soon replaced for a commercial endeavoring to sell cat food.

"Aw, it's a rerun," Nabiki lamented, disappointed that the newest episode of 'The Loved and the Lovelorn' had not made its tacky debut as of yet. In this particular episode, Amiko Sashiki, fiancé of Shinji Kinatori, confessed to sleeping with and, consequently, being pregnant with the baby of, Shinji's brother Tome. However, little does Amiko know that Shinji knew of this, but was pretending not to so that he could look innocent when he fooled around with his busty American secretary from work, Chalandra. Now, this all came together in a neat little package when Shinji's father, Hanagata, was discovered not only to be the father of both Tome and Shinji, but Amiko as well, so the marriage would be null and void anyway. Besides, Nabiki always thought Amiko would be so much better off with that hunky construction worker Koshi, despite the fact that he had a terminal illness and was promised to that evil, scheming Minako, at birth.

Every woman is entitled to at least one soap opera, Nabiki figured.

Sighing resignedly, but determined to find *something* good on T.V., Nabiki flipped through the channels at a pace slow enough to digest at least a bit of information from each station. Her findings displeased her; a couple reality shows with concepts a two-year-old could readily think of, an exposé on a washed up Norwegian movie star (she was surprised that Norwegian movie stars lasted long enough to become washed up), a new shoûjo anime about Super Beautiful Gorgeous Pretty Beauty whatsherface to make girls think that anorexia is the cool way to fight evil, and some other shows not even worth mentioning.

" - so I've chosen to vote Makoto out of the moderately-sized penthouse apartment - "

" - and that's when I realized that it wasn't about acting, it was about the money and selling out - "

" - GEM POWER! TRANSFORM ME INTO SUPER BEAUTIFUL GORGEOUS PRE - "

" - it gets rid of unwanted acne AND facial hair! - "

" - dn't have bothered to carve 'Aaah!' if he died while writing it - "

" - more on that at eleven. Tragedy struck the small prefecture of Nerima early this morning, when police received a phone call, concerning what was later to be deemed a brutal case of assault and kidnaping. Kodachi Kuno, aged 16, was victim in this attack; police reports say that the kidnaper forced their way inside her room at approximately 2:20 a.m., savagely beat her, and abducted the girl, managing to destroy her bedroom in the process."

Now *this* caught Nabiki's eye. Managing to snap herself out of the shock that struck her for a moment, Nabiki turned back to the shenanigans taking place behind her; Akane and Ranma had called their silent truce to an end and were once again exchanging tiresome verbal insults with each other (not to mention P-Chan was trying to take a sizable chunk out of Ranma's arm), Genma was taking this opportunity to steal his son's food, Nabiki's own father was simply delighting in how well his daughter and his best friend's son were getting along, and Kasumi was currently out of the room, most likely cleaning the kitchen. What was presenting itself on T.V. was sincerely more important than all of this put together.

"Hey guys!" Nabiki called out, attempting to grab her family's attention. Of course, this did not happen; the youngest Tendo daughter and her ever-loving fiancee were having an all out, oral, battle royale, and their voices were reaching decibels not yet recorded by mankind, effectively drowning out her own voice. The short-haired girl tried to shout again, however Akane and Ranma's arguing voices still managed to make her own vocalizations disappear within waves of anger that sparkled between the two.

She really didn't want to resort to this, but. . .

Taking what was left of the pork bun on her plate, she chucked it at Ranma's head. True to her aim, the half-eaten confection impacted against the boy's head, severing him from the train of insults on a runaway course, trundling through his mind. Blinking once and turning to face the person who would dare try to assault him with a pastry, Ranma was more than surprised to see Nabiki sitting in the direction from whence the bun had flown, looking annoyed.

"Nabiki? What the heck was THAT fo-"

"Watch the T.V., trust me on this one."

Giving Nabiki a look that could be considered odd, the boy swivelled his head, his eyes meeting the television screen. Flashing before him were images of what seemed to be a room in complete shambles; furniture was broken, even completely shattered in some areas, and most disturbingly of all, splatters of blood littered the area.

Akane, taking a cue from Ranma, turned also to see what Nabiki was talking about, as did the other members of the Saotome and Tendo clans.

"Obviously there was a struggle here; she fought the attacker off as best she could, Kami bless her," a police officer stated, his face ragged, with an expression on his face conveying the fact that he had seen things like this far too often in his career. Everyone seated inside the dining area watched this in silence.

Quiet notwithstanding, those around the dinner table didn't hear the soft pad of bare feet on wood slowly come to a halt in the entryway to the dining room; he placed a hand on the wooden frame of the sliding door, which was already open. He watched, engrossed, with a morbid sense of sickness welling up in the pit of his stomach.

"The blood spilled was caused by a bladed weapon of some sort; with the amount of blood and the way the puddles are positioned, there's no way a gun could've done this. Whoever the kidnaper was, they knew what they were doing too," the officer continued, "because we've yet to find any evidence that could incriminate someone - no fingerprints, no hairs, no nothing. Hell, there wasn't even a coherent ransom note. It doesn't make sense; why kidnap a girl this rich, and not be in it for the money?"

The scene cut abruptly from the hardened cop to a female reporter, standing on what was later concluded to be the front lawn of the house, some feet away from the commotion going on behind her. Her brown hair, bunched in curls at her shoulders, were tousled by the wind blowing outside, swaying along with it the branches of the large trees that overshadowed all the people in the picture on-screen. Behind the rather well-dressed woman, police were congregating near the entrance to the home, behind a barrier of 'POLICE LINE - DO NOT CROSS' tape that stretched about the entrance. The reporter spoke.

"Police have yet to confirm the motives of this crime, as no ransom note has been found at the present time. Constable Iwara, leading the investigation, said that with no evidence, no leads, and no witnesses, the most brutal case of kidnaping ever recorded in the history of the Nerima prefecture will be a tough one to crack. Currently, attempts to notify family members of this crisis have failed; however we here at Channel 25 News would like to offer our condolences and sincere hope that Kodachi Kuno will be recovered safely. Updates on this case will be aired as the investigation continues. This is Michiru Ayasugi, reporting for Channel 25 News."

The scene once again switched, this time from the live broadcast to that of the news anchors, who began to report on what tomorrow's weather would bring.

For the first time in her life, Nabiki was stunned into speechlessness. Apparently, her family and the Saotomes were too; in fact, not even Akane's pet pig was making a sound. They sat in shocked quietness, the only movement being made by Nabiki to switch the television off.

"Gods," Akane whispered, more shocked than anything else by the transgressions viewed on the T.V., her eyes staring at nothing in particular. She unconsciously tightened her hold on P-Chan, who made a bwee-ing sound so soft it was barely audible.

"Who could do such a thing?" gentle Kasumi asked, her voice much quieter than usual, and slightly choked. Her hands were wringing the apron she perpetually wore, clenching and unclenching in a show of nervous shock; Soun tried to calm her somewhat, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Kasumi was a rather fragile creature when it came to hard-hitting matters such as these, and if there was one thing that nobody wanted to see, it was someone as good-natured and loving as Kasumi Tendo cry.

Nabiki, meanwhile, was lost in thought, looking at those surrounding her in the room, each person in various states of shock. Akane was absently scratching behind P-Chan's ears, biting her lip; her fiancee was looking down, fiddling with the material of his pants, contemplating something. Glancing slightly to her left, she saw her father consoling Kasumi; both were holding it together remarkably well, considering Soun Tendo's ability to overreact to situations, and Kasumi Tendo's amazing capability to feel empathy for anything. She continued her visual sweep of the room; Genma Saotome looked stoic, as he always did in these types of situations, with his arms crossed over his chest, gazing forward to some unseen point on the wall. Kuno, standing in the doorway, looked rather pale and drawn, which was really to be. . .

. . . wait, Kuno?

Nabiki stared at Kuno, who didn't seem to notice this; his grey eyes were resting on the television screen, which now showed nothing but a void of black. She observed small rivulets of water dripped from his bangs, plastered to his forehead, his hair wet from the bath he just had; his hand gripped the wooden side of the entrance to the eating vicinity, tight enough to make his knuckles turn white. Swallowing so her unbecomingly dry throat could regain its moisture, Nabiki Tendo bit her lip in indecision for a moment, before deciding to open her mouth.

"Kuno-baby?" she said quietly, her voice slightly above a whisper. Slowly, though perhaps not deliberately, the boy's gaze shifted from that of the empty T.V. to the eyes of the girl who said his name. Their eyes locked for a moment, concerned brown with surprisingly clear grey ones; his pools of silver translated to Nabiki more clearly than any of his previous ramblings, speeches, or rants had.

She found it quite amazing, to see such unblemished fear in someone's eyes. She continued to watch as the boy opened his mouth, as if to speak; it closed almost as soon as his lips parted, words dying on his tongue. By this time, everyone else currently residing in the Tendo residence had taken notice of the stricken-looking young man darkening their doorway.

His cloudy eyes scanned the room slowly, unwittingly drinking in each detail; he realized, with no surprise, that he was currently the centre of attention for all those seated around the dinner table, his tall form dwarfing the seated families. Everyone remained silent.

"I. . ." Kuno managed to croak out, his breathing becoming a tad shallower. He bit his lip, looking down. In a swift movement, he turned around, beginning to walk away; everyone in the house could hear the resonating sound of his bare feet slapping against the wooded floors. Silence reigned once more.

Nabiki, fidgeting on her kneeling pillow, found the sound of the nothingness to be quite irksome for some reason. She was just as confused as everyone else, which was certainly a rarity in most situations - due to this fact, she knew she had to remedy it somehow. The only person who could possibly know any answer as to what was going on would be the one person who'd just padded away.

The middle Tendo daughter rose to her feet, mumbling something to her family about 'getting some sense out of him'. Nobody questioned her as to why.



=*=*=*=





The Tendo Dojo was not a very large house; ergo the ease in which Nabiki found the man that she was looking for. After a quick search in the foyer, she rounded about to the porch in the backyard, which could be a fairly quiet for those wishing to enjoy peace and solitude for scant few moments. Silently opening the sliding paper door, she peeked her head out; there he was, leaning on the wooden railing, gazing intently at the koi pond. A fish jumped out of it, the droplets of water sparkling in the scattered rays of moonlight that illuminated both the grass and the boy, ghosting over his features. The pale iridescence seemed to suit the rather glum mood that he was in.

Of course, he had good reason to be in such a state of mind.

Nabiki listened to her footsteps creak on the old wood of the deck, despite the fact she was treading relatively lightly. She continued towards Kuno, whose back was turned to her; she covered the distance between them quickly, resting her arms on the guardrail, turning her head to face him. His profile was apathetic, save for his eyes, which were terribly morose. She could clearly see the moon reflect in his pools of grey.

"Kuno-baby, are you alright?" she asked, berating herself immediately afterwards. 'Gee, of course he's alright, just look at how frigging peachy he is.'

The only reaction Kuno made to Nabiki's question was a slight shift in posture, his back slouching a little more, his gaze never breaking with that of the entrancing moon. Nabiki took the time to look at it for a moment; it hung, bright against cloak of night that had encompassed them. Stars twinkled and danced around it, forever in a cosmic waltz; encircling the lunar object was a ring of yellowish-orange, creating an almost intoxicating glow.

"I should have. . ." he murmured, his voice much softer than usual, flowing through the velvety night, swallowed up by the abyss of blackness that purveyed the town of Nerima. Nabiki's attention quickly focused back entirely on Kuno.

"I should have been there. She would not be gone if I was," he stated, still continuing to stare at the large sphere of rock that hung in the earth's orbit, his voice continuing to be infuriatingly mellifluous. Though she knew he was only uttering words from what was, undoubtedly, an inner soliloquy, Nabiki knew exactly whom he was speaking of. It disturbed her how much Kuno made it sound like she was dead.

"Kuno-baby," she began, honestly meaning to say something after the nickname she had so proudly given him many years back. However, so captivated was Nabiki by the torrent of emotions that played across her classmate's face, she allowed the words to be stillborn upon her lips.

Anger came first.

"I am such an idiot, to have allowed this to happen!" he exclaimed, though his voice was still relatively hushed. He threw his hands up, gesticulating perfectly his frustration.

Then came confusion.

"Why would somebody do this? I have not enemies I know of that would do such a thing, and if it were for money, surely they would have left detailed instructions," he managed to say, all in one breath. He removed his frame from the railing, and nervously began to pace around.

Then came sadness.

"Kodachi, my only, little, beautiful sister, how could someone do such a thing to you?" His pacing remained slow, his tones low and even. He continued to step, but in silence; after a few moments, his pacing eventually slowed to a complete halt in front of Nabiki. He turned to her.

. . . then came fear.

"What. . . what if they have. . .?" he asked quietly, his voice now rather small and frightened, his eyes wide and imploring.

At this moment in time, Nabiki was faced with something of a predicament. While she herself was one who didn't show the entire spectrum of emotion that a human being was capable of, the majority of those around her managed to, somehow. She was used to dealing with only certain emotions though; confusion, which could be easily manipulated to gain profit, was one. However, never was she confronted with a situation so serious, or so vexing, for that matter. Though it was, ipso facto, quite easy to feel sympathy for Kuno, Nabiki always had found it rather frustrating to express her feelings adequately. Indifference worked for her, and well at that; at this point in time, she had no desire to change it.

However, Nabiki condemned her apathy as well. It was obvious that Tatewaki needed somebody to say it was going to be alright; how the hell was *she* supposed to do it? He could go bug Akane, or his 'pigtailed girl', for all she cared.

'But I was the one to follow him out here,' her conscience reminded her, the nagging thought like an annoying, stubborn brat of a child that clung to her to fulfill its insecure needs. Dammit, she knew it wasn't going to leave her alone, either. Sighing in resignation to her fate, she looked down a bit, scratching at the wood on the handrail. She felt it collect under her fingernails; Nabiki flicked the particles of the stuff out, as her scraping of it wouldn't cease. She continued her tiny mantra of raking the hardwood for a bit before answering.

"Kuno-baby, I'm sure she's alright. She's a good fighter, so I'm sure she's fine."

Gods, the words sounded worse coming out of her mouth than they did in her head. This was exactly why she couldn't keep a boyfriend for very long; get past the physical part, and she was at a loss for things to do and say. Tatewaki turned his head slightly, looking at her oddly.

"Nabiki Tendo, as appreciative as I am that you are attempting to console me, your words are hollow, therefore meaningless," he replied, his flowery vocabulary seeming to be quite fitting to counter Nabiki's short, clipped responses. Despite the fact Nabiki's expression never changed, his words stung, just a little bit. Well, maybe she *was* bullshitting a little, but it was for his own good. He certainly didn't need to hear her say 'Oh yeah, I agree completely, no chance of survival for her, let's start the funeral preparations just for some fucking fun'.

The Tendo girl summed up all her thoughts on his response in a deft sigh.

"I'm just saying you shouldn't think the worst. You're always jumping to conclusions, this time's no different," the girl stated.

"No," he breathed out, vapour puffing from his mouth, "it *is* different." Kuno walked back to his original place on the deck, leaning once more on the wooden support rail, however looking at Nabiki this time.

"When I went up to her room, there was blood everywhere. Believe me when I say that I am not embellishing this - blood covered *everything*," he began, his voice steady enough, "and the mattress of her bed was completely destroyed. It too was. . . w-was stained red." He swallowed heavily, tearing his gaze away from Nabiki's face back to the sea of green that was the Tendo's backyard.

"The worst part was that I was not even there to be able to protect her," he whispered, his head hanging. Though concerned for the boy, Nabiki was also curious.

"Then where were you, Kuno-baby? The news reporter said that it happened in the early hours of the morning," she inquired uncharacteristically softly. Nabiki saw Kuno visibly flinch.

"It. . . it would be hard to explain to you, Nabiki Tendo. All that matters is that I was not there when Kodachi needed me the most," he stated, his hands trembling a bit.

"Gods, she m-must have been screaming terribly. If I would have been there, I w-would have heard her. . . cries f-for help. . ." Kuno's voice, which had been becoming progressively more choked and soft, died on his last few words. He turned his head from Nabiki's view, his breath beginning to hitch; his back quivered somewhat, and it was obvious that he was trying to hide the fact that he was becoming more emotional than he wanted. Nabiki, watching this, felt a rather harsh tug on her heartstrings; as such, she did the only thing she could really think of at the moment. Placing her comparatively small hand on Kuno's back, she rubbed it in what she hoped was a soothing manner.

"Hey. . . Kuno-baby, it's alright, just calm down," she said quietly, her hand still stroking up on down on the material of Kuno's yukata. In a stunning turn of events, Nabiki's understated actions had a pacifying effect on the wound-up kendoist; his breathing slowly began to even out as he took in deep lungfulls of the crisp, autumn air. Kuno rested the side of his head against the wooden support beam, looking at Nabiki out of the corner of his eye.

"Nabiki, it is not alright," he explained softly, moonlight glittering on the unshed tears in his eyes, "it. . . it just is not alright." To escape the girl's own prodding brown orbs, he closed his eyelids; he was rather disheartened to find a droplet escape from its prison, slowly trickling down his cheek.

Her mind reeled for a moment, scrabbling for a foothold in the, as of now, smooth and slippery rock face known as logic. Wringing her hands together, she found herself entranced by the boy before her. For everything that he had said and done in the past, and for all his stubborn, macho, arrogant, idiotic masquerading, he was just suddenly so. . .

. . . exposed. No emotional shield was presented to her this time; no sort of delusional tirade, no barriers. With a start, Nabiki realized that this wasn't some sort of an act or overly-dramatic show. This was a window into his true self. This recognition nearly bowled her over completely. Again, her mind grappled with the words in her syntax, trying to force her tongue around them in order to say something that would make this right, that would hammer sense into all of this.

However, something in the back of her head managed to kick at the jumble of logic until it began to bleed empathy. The cascading lifeblood of pathos, rather than poise, seeped through the crevices in her mind, filling in the gaps where logic simply could not permeate. This time, instead of trying to manipulate, control, and fix, she found herself wanting to just be there for him. It scared and, in an odd way, excited her, this feeling of enigma.

Warily stepping forward, she reached out with her left hand, placing it on Kuno's shoulder. At her touch, he opened his glistening eyes, immediately locking them with Nabiki's. Biting her lip, her hand slid behind Kuno's back, smoothing over the fabric of his yukata. With her hand pressed against the boy's back, her right arm encompassed his waist; she had only slight hesitance when she began to pull him upwards.

Nabiki was surprised, not entirely unpleasantly, when Kuno's strong arms wrapped around her own body, accepting the hug she had cautiously offered. She felt his body sink onto hers, and again she found herself amazed by the amount of trust Tatewaki had for her.

They stayed that way for what seemed to be an eternity, with the lonely moon watching over her uncharacteristic show of tenderness, and his foreign display of vulnerability.



=*=*=*=



It was good to be able to spar with another skilled martial artist after such a dry spell of seeming inactivity. Tonight, Ranma had only counted on practicing his katas; however, since P-Chan showed up, a kettle of hot water later and he was exercising his moves in a veritable blur with his opponent. The two boys exchanged blows, both of them looking to be about evenly matched; however, if one were to look closer, or were to have a vast knowledge in all that was martial arts, they would see that while the pigtailed boy was faster, his adversary had more force behind his moves. Of course, anyone sub-expert in the ways of the Art would only be able to see distorted shapes of red, black and yellow zipping across the dojo floor.

After a few more minutes of such attack and defense, the sparring match began to slowly die down. The blur of colours started to take comprehensible shape, individual limbs and assorted body parts became visible, and suddenly, you could distinguish the two boys from each other. They said nothing, the only sounds to be heard in the wooden dojo being their slightly laboured breathing; for now, nothing really needed to be said. Communication between the two boys through punches and kicks was as natural as the spoken word, if not more descriptive on both their parts.

As the plateaus of battle energy slowly descended and leveled out, Ranma Saotome and Ryoga Hibiki both paced a bit restlessly around the room; they both still had enough enthusiasm to walk and jog a bit, however they were both sparring like there was no tomorrow. Even for both their high levels of endurance, it was something of a tough workout.

Then again, everything just seemed so much heavier today.

Managing to catch his breath, Ranma walked over to the open door of the dojo, stepping outside into the refreshingly cool, nearly wintry air. Cold zephyrs met heated skin, biting in something of a rejuvenating manner; he expelled a cacophonous breath, watching the water vapour from his mouth swirl around his face before disappearing. The boy closed his eyes, amazed by the fact that he could listen to himself breathe and be quite amused.

He felt footsteps approaching his still form, his eyes remaining steadfastly closed. The old wood of the dojo porch creaked under the influence of the new weight, whining under the second boy's step. Ryoga walked over to the railing, leaning on it, eyes wandering over the grounds of the place that he often found himself calling home. The pair bathed in the eerily strong glow of the moon, no words coming to their lips.

After a few moments, Ranma opened his indigo eyes, resting on the form of the only man he ever seriously considered his rival. Ryoga's head turned slightly, the profile of his face now visible to Ranma; his mahogany eyes were sad and melancholy, weighed down by something. Ranma could guess what it was; Ryoga Hibiki had the ability to feel sorry for just about anything walking the earth, except for a certain pigtailed adversary. Even then, there were times when he and Ryoga seemed to understand each other's troubles somewhat; usually it didn't last, and ended with Ryoga proclaiming his trademarked "Prepare to die, Saotome!" line, or perhaps a slight variation on it.

However, none of that mattered right now. What they had both seen on the television was certainly disturbing; while neither of the boys were close to Kodachi, or even liked her very much, to have something like that happen to a person you knew could really shake one up. It didn't help matters that Kuno was skulking somewhere in the Tendo abode.

Ranma temporarily tore his gaze away from Ryoga's face to stare at his shoes, which were much less distracting than the lost boy's eyes. What bothered Ranma the most was that Kodachi wasn't the helpless maiden that she usually schemed to be in order to win over her object of affection; the pigtailed boy had fought Kodachi in his girl form in a martial arts rhythmic gymnastics competition before, and it took him everything he had to beat her. It was an understatement to say that she was skilled. Whoever had kidnaped her was not only skilled, but ruthless - a dangerous combination, if there ever was one.

Sighing deeply, the black-haired martial artist took a few steps forward, eventually to stand beside Ryoga. The night air was carried to them on a soft breeze, wrapping around the two boys like a chilly security blanket, tousling their hair. Trees swayed gently; the faint rustling sound it created acted as something of an understated background song, making a comfortable lull. Still, the boys remained quiet.

"So," Ranma began, his voice cutting through the thick of the silence like a hot knife through butter, "did you actually manage to find your way here, or was it dumb luck again?" Ryoga, on his part, scowled at the boy beside him.

"None of your business," he responded sharply, his tone as edgy as usual. Ranma smirked at this.

"Was it because of Akane, pig boy?" he taunted, knowing he'd dig a reaction up from his rival. As he predicted, Ryoga's face turned a fetching shade of red, turning his head away from Ranma's form quickly.

"I said it's none of your damn business, Ranma!" the lost boy shouted before biting his lip to forcefully quiet himself, one fang protruding over his mouth. Ranma grinned in a knowing fashion, happy that normality had been established. The quiet was really beginning to upset him.

"Alright, fine, I'll leave it alone. Geeze, you have the funniest hissy fits, Ryoga," the pigtailed martial artist remarked, watching Ryoga intently as he fumed.

"Ranmaaaa-!"

"Hey, I said I'd leave it alone! Honestly!"

Instead of lashing out at the young man with the red Chinese shirt as usual, Ryoga contented himself with expelling a discordant huff of objection. At this moment, he really didn't feel like getting in another petty battle; he had just finished sparring with the guy anyway, so it was inherently pointless.

"Fine. Like I care, stupid," Ryoga lamented in a low voice, quieted by thoughts that concerned more than just insults to throw towards the pigtailed boy. Ranma, for all his stunning moments of ignorance, picked up on this fairly quickly. Swallowing audibly to signal an end to the verbal taunts that had not even begun, the cursed boy looked at his surroundings. They seemed quiet, but there was no place of solitude like the roof of the Tendo home.

"Hey P-Chan, follow me," he uttered, elbowing Ryoga lightly in the arm. After a second's hesitation, Ranma leapt like a gazelle onto the wood of the railing in front of him, then equally as quickly to the nearby rooftop. He waited there, and not long after, the familiar figure of Ryoga Hibiki sprung up to land neatly on the shingles of the roof, taking a few steps to stand beside Ranma.

"I thought you said you were going to leave it alone, Ranma," Ryoga muttered gruffly, sitting down on the miraculously comfortable rooftop. Confused, Ranma took a seat beside him.

"Whaddya mean, piggy?" he asked, tilting his head. This elicited a growl from Ryoga.

"The insults, idiot!" he exclaimed, becoming angry once more. This was not a hard feat for the perpetually lost martial artist, however.

"*Now* who's being insulting, bacon butt?" Ranma quipped, greatly enjoying the reactions he was milking from Ryoga. In spite of this, a small voice at the back of his mind kept nagging him, telling him to stop acting childish. While they usually exchanged derogatory comments with each other that ended with everybody kung-fu fighting (and making references to tacky 70's songs, apparently), this was a completely different matter. Ranma honestly needed to just *talk* with Ryoga this time, not degrade or fight.

"Ranma, you jerk! If you just called me up here to make fun of me, so help me I'll punch you so hard that you'll have to eat through a straw for a month!" Ryoga threatened. The rather disturbing thing was that Ryoga could probably do that to anybody just by lightly tapping their jaw. Ranma thanked the gods that he wasn't just 'anybody'.

Gritting his teeth together, Ranma forced down the slew of abusive words that were attempting to burst out of Ranma's mouth. For once in his life, Ranma didn't want to have to deal with foot-in-mouth disease.

"Okay, okay, sorry Ryoga," Ranma mumbled, sighing once more, "really, I need to talk to ya." Ryoga eyed the boy suspiciously, not quite believing him. Trust was something that did not come easily to the lost boy, especially when it involved a certain chick-magnet of a martial artist. After a few seconds of intense scrutiny by Ryoga's wary eyes, Ranma was relieved when he saw the bandana'd boy relax a bit.

"Alright. Ryoga, you saw what I saw on the T.V., am I right?" Ranma inquired, resting his chin in his hands and his elbows on his bent knees. Ryoga puffed out a quiet breath, watching it billow around like a cloud in front of his face for a few moments.

"Yeah, I did," the lost boy began, crossing his arms over his chest, looking down, "how could somebody do something like that?" Ranma clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

"I dunno; man, they gotta have been pretty damn heartless. Kodachi may not have been my favourite person to hang around, but *nobody* deserves something like that happening to them," he stated, looking up at the night sky in thought.

"Whoever did it had to have been pretty skilled to leave no evidence, but get the job so. . . so brutally done," Ryoga eked out.

"That's what really worries me. I mean, the cop even said that it was done with a sword or somethin'. Judging by what he said, to have been able to sneak into Kodachi's room undetected and be able to do that much damage to her has to be pretty good in martial arts," Ranma explained.

"It still doesn't make sense, though. Why just that without a motive, or something?" Ryoga asked quietly, clenching and unclenching his fists. Ryoga himself didn't know Kodachi terribly well, but he did know that she could take care of herself quite aptly in a fight. Putting that aside, though, she was still a woman. Whatever sick bastard could hurt a woman like that deserved to have their face re-arranged, the lost boy surmised.

"I don't know. What I *do* know is that, whoever this guy is, he's really dangerous, and needs to be dealt with. I mean, if they have no problem hurting a girl like that, who knows what the hell else he could do?" the pigtailed martial artist lamented, feeling a bit frustrated with the whole situation. The last thing he wanted was for anybody else to get hurt.

Then there was the whole matter with Kuno, which was confusing as it was. He was acting so bloody weird; granted, with something like that happening to his sister, some strangeness was alright. However, what Ranma had seen in that empty classroom the other day, and his skin being burning hot. . . he had to be connected with what happened to Kodachi somehow. The unusual events coincided much too neatly for them to be separate.

'Wait a minute. Last night, when I bumped into Kuno on the street, he had that scar under his eye, and. . . and he was covered in blood. The cop on the T.V. said that Kodachi had put up a fight. . . gods, he couldn't have! He's acting way too upset for that to be right. Or is it just acting? G-gods, would he be psycho enough to do that to his own *sister*?'

Ryoga, who had noticed Ranma's rather lengthy period of silence, cleared his throat. Snapped out of his thoughts, the pigtailed boy shook his head, his revelation more than a bit unsettling.

"Ranma, what is it?" Ryoga asked, knotting his eyebrows in somewhat of a distressed way. The boy beside him looked as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Ryoga, I think. . . I think Kuno did it," Ranma said quietly, more or less speaking his thoughts aloud, rather than just addressing Ryoga. If the lost boy wasn't confused before, he certainly was now.

"Wait, isn't that Kuno guy Kodachi's brother?" Ranma nodded. "What the hell are you talking about, why would he do that to his own sister, for Kami's sake?"

"No, you don't understand! He's been acting really weird lately; I mean, he's had these strange auras, and he's just been more of a looney than usual." Before Ryoga had any chance to tell Ranma that of course the poor boy would be acting differently, his sister was just kidnaped, Ranma silenced the lost boy by raising his hand in front of Ryoga's face.

"Last night, Akane kicked me outta the house for some stupid thing I did. So I was wandering around, and I just happened to run right into Kuno; who, get this, was covered in *blood*," Ranma finished dramatically, looking at Ryoga square in the eye. The pigtailed martial artist saw Ryoga's chestnut eyes widen slightly.

"Covered in blood?" Ryoga repeated, his mouth agape. Ranma nodded once, before continuing.

"He was acting even weirder then, too. Ryoga, it makes sense! Why else would he be drenched in blood? The only cut I saw on him was under his eye, and the officer on T.V. even said that she put up a fight!"

Silence loomed once more, as Ranma's ludicrous explanation suddenly seemed the exact opposite of ludicrous.

"Gods. . . Ranma, I really don't wanna believe you on that," Ryoga whispered, looking down and away, "but with everything you said, it makes sense."

"You see?" he spouted. It was at this moment that a rather important detail struck the pigtailed boy like a freight train barreling down the tracks at full speed.

"Gods Ryoga, he's staying overnight here too!!" Ranma exclaimed, his eyes wider than before. Ryoga stood up suddenly, his face pale.

"What if he tries to hurt Akane??" he asked worriedly, getting more than extremely worked up. Ranma stumbled to his feet, his face also becoming a visage of alarm.

"We gotta stop him! Follow me, and don't get lost!" Ranma shouted, deftly jumping down from the roof, with a drastically frightened lost boy hot on his heels.



=*=*=*=



He watched, extremely amused by the antics he had just witnessed on the rooftop of the Japanese home. Smirking and chuckling, the man found it quite hard not to be entertained by the distressed teenagers that had just jumped off the roof of the house.

'Children of this day and age are so foolhardy,' he thought, running a hand through his dark brown hair, crouching on the tree branch, completely enshrouded by the foliage and the sweeping darkness of the night. His long, black trench coat kept him hidden almost completely, his pale skin covered wholly in black clothing, save his hands and face; he sighed softly, vaulting deftly from the branch to the ground, with speed that, by all human standards, was impossible. As he landed, his long, black coat plumed about him, creating the illusion of intimidation.

He stood at his full height, his tall form still blanketed by the sacred ebony of night. His steely gray eyes closely studied the home before him; his vision, which was more accurate than that of a hawk, made special note of all the windows and doors that the abode had to offer.

The man reached into his trench coat, pulling from it a silver, magnum handgun, moonlight glinting off the barrel. Quickly checking his magazine of bullets, he saw it to be full.

Excellent.



~*~*~*~



And would you look at the October-ness of it all. I'm so sorry, it was another friggin' two months. _-_ I've been a lot busier than I thought I would be, and I've been suffering quite severely from writer's block. This chapter didn't even end the way I wanted it to, grah.

But anyhoot, enough of my complaining. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please remember that my existence depends on your reviews. See Chibikat. See Chibikat have no life. Write, Chibikat, write.

*coughs* . . . right. Until next time, yay for cliffhangers. =D

~Chibikat