Souls and Shadows

Part 1: A Door Once Opened.

Chapter 3

-12 Years Ago-

Ranma had just turned six years old, and nobody had noticed. Not that it was anyone's fault in particular; it was just that that there were far more important things to worry about than a child's birthday. Money had been tight lately, and there didn't appear to be the prospect of receiving any more while he and his father lived in Osaka. For some reason, this city appeared to have little need for the trades that wandering martial artists employed. There weren't any demons to speak of, they hadn't seen a ghost in months, and what rampaging monsters there were appeared to be keeping a low profile.

As a result, Ranma's gi; that kempo uniform that was his only set of clothing, was patched and too tight, and more than a little frayed. He was aware that he stood out among the better-dressed natives of the city, but shrugged it off with a child's studied lack of embarrassment. He'd gone through times with little food before, and was more than capable of either swiping or scrounging what he needed. And he'd spent more time in tents throughout his life than under a proper roof, so he hardly missed the shelter.

Still, there were some things that even a life trained to privation found reason to miss. And so Ranma stood there, his nose literally pressed up against the glass of the bicycle shop, staring with undisguised longing at the wares displayed in the window. He looked, despite the martial-arts attire and pigtail, very much like a caricature from a Dickens novel.

Sighing, he finally turned away, leaving a visible streak on the glass. He couldn't have explained the reasons for his desire for a bicycle. Though only six, he could already run faster on foot than most bicyclists, and he could easily carry his share of the provisions. Still, being six and having had your birthday passed up was a terrible thing, he thought.

He likewise couldn't have said why he chose to walk back home by way of the school that day. Normally he avoided the more settled native children of the city, partly because his father told him to, and partly because they had a tendency to make cruel jokes at his expense. It was only when he saw the row of shiny bicycles parked out near the front that he realized the purpose of his excursion. Living with Genma for his entire life had already left a mark on his concept of the word 'property,' and simply being six was really excuse enough for being a selfish little bastard. So he hopped the fence, selected a bicycle that he thought suited him, and, after selecting an appropriate rock, began pounding upon the chain that held it fast to the rack.

Even for a boy as strong as Ranma, stone makes a poor weapon against steel. Long minutes past undisturbed while he patiently chipped away at the one obstacle between himself and his new bike. Until he heard the approaching footsteps behind him, it never occurred to him that there would be others. Turning, he found himself confronted by a group of schoolboys. They were older than he was, perhaps eight or ten. He wasn't very good at judging ages. One of them stepped forward, indignation evident on his young face.

"Hey! What are you doing with my bike?" The boy roughly shoved Ranma out of the way as he bent to look at it. "You've scratched the paint up, you butt hole!" The childish insult sent a spike of anger through Ranma's mind. Even then, he'd had something of a temper. He stepped forward, intending to punch the offending kid, when other comments brought him up short.

"Hey kid, why you wearing that gi? Playing Karate master?"

"Look at him, probably hasn't had a bath ever..."

"Naw, look at how torn up it is... Probably his only clothes..."

"Little thief..."

"He's gonna cry! He's gonna cry!"

"...A street kid. No mom or dad, probably."

"Well, who'd want 'im?"

Ranma gave an angry cry. "I do too have a mom and dad!" The laughter increased, and fat tears of embarrassment began rolling down his face.

The first boy, the one whose bike Ranma had attempted to steal, pushed him in the chest, hard. His face was screwed up in something resembling anger mingled with a vicious pleasure available only to the pre-adolescent and to those who never truly leave that stage of life. "Where are they then? Maybe you shoulda waited for daddy before trying to take stuff that doesn't belong to you." He reached forward to push Ranma again. This time, Ranma stumbled back. Someone threw a rock. It missed, but something snapped inside him nonetheless.

He jumped at the first child, snarling. Before his opponent could move, Ranma had already completed a cruel punch to the throat. He tottered backward, clutching at his neck, and leaving himself opened to a flurry of blows to the kidneys and groin. Whimpering, the older child collapsed to the ground.

Still crying, Ranma turned on the others, who were still standing there in shocked amazement. He didn't wait for them to make the first move, to decide that loyalty to their comrade was worth more than fear of a boy at least two years younger than they. He launched himself amongst them, recalling his father's lessons on fighting multiple opponents. Every limb lashed out, giving his foes little time to strike back, or form defenses.

Some attempted to run away from this miniature whirlwind of pain. Precise blows to the back of the knees, or to pressure points in the thighs discouraged this. Ranma was growing more elated by the second. Despite their size, and despite their numbers, none of them could come close to touching him. An open handed blow to the nose of one, and he went down, blood streaming. A roundhouse kick to another, and he fell, stunned or unconscious. His only opponent up till this point had been his own father, and thus he'd never had the experience of fighting an opponent weaker than himself. He found that his anger was almost entirely replaced by the sheer exhilaration of it.

By this time, the small mob of children was in chaos, completely routed by this seemingly elemental force, which stubbornly refused to let them escape. They attempted to break off, to run for cover, but Ranma intercepted each of them, and with brutal efficiency pounded them with fists and feet until they were in too much pain to move.

"Who cryin' now?" he crowed, looking about for more targets. Indeed, tears were flowing in copious amounts from those of his opponents still conscious. Slowly, he became dimly aware that he had an audience. It seemed as though half of the school had shown up to stare in horrified fascination as he humiliated the other boys. A pair of teachers stood at the inner edge of the ring that had formed around him, obviously shocked, but too nervous to approach him.

Still in the throws of bloodlust, Ranma took a step forward, and watched with some pleasure as the crowd moved back, stepping on each other's feet in their haste to get away.

"Aren't you going to make fun of me?" he yelled, clenching his fists. When nobody answered, he moved forward again. This time, he was intercepted.

In front of him stood his father. Ranma instinctively took a step back. This was not Genma as he would be seen many years from now; fat and lazy and disreputable. No, the Genma that Ranma saw then was almost a force of nature; powerful, and wise, and utterly invincible.

Genma looked about, his face blank as he surveyed his son's handiwork. The unconscious forms of no less than a dozen boys lay about the schoolyard. More blood than he cared to see when children fought as well. "Good God, boy... What have you been doing?" His voice was oddly distant.

Ranma suddenly had to fight back tears once more. "Th...They... They made fun of me! Said I got no mom or dad... Said I was dirty 'an poor 'an a thief, 'an... 'an..." His voice trailed off into a whimper.

With one last, despairing look about the schoolyard, Genma reached forward and grabbed Ranma firmly be the collar. Then, with a superhuman leap that carried him over the walls, he was away. They traveled between buildings, and atop roofs, away from prying eyes and faster than a car could afford to go within the city limits until they reached the rooftop where Genma had last night pitched their tent. There, he sat Ranma down. He gave the boy a few seconds to cry, before slapping him across the face so hard that it nearly unhinged Ranma's jaw.

Ranma sat back up from where the blow had knocked him flat, stunned as much by the concept that his father would do such a thing as by the force of it. Genma had struck him many times, but up till now, it had always been in combat, as part of training. Never before had he been hit as punishment. He began to speak, but a second slap cut his voice short.

Genma looked down on him, his face set into a rare, solemn expression. "Boy... Ranma. What you just did can never happen again, understand?" When Ranma shook his head, Genma sighed. He sat down next to his son, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Ranma, the arts that people like you and I practice set us apart from normal people. We are not, and can never be, bound by exactly the same rules. And so there is an agreement between us, between the people like us, who dance across the storm, and those who are chained to the earth."

Ranma nodded, not understanding, but knowing better than to interrupt his father when he waxed eloquent.

"We do things for them that they cannot do for themselves. We fight the foes that they cannot bring themselves to believe in, and solve the problems that they will not allow themselves to see. And because they understand, in a way, that we are necessary, they allow us to exist." Genma sighed heavily. "But there are conditions, understand? We might steal from them, when we need to. We might show them up, and we can certainly defend ourselves from them if we have to, but no more than that. We do not destroy them. We do not kill, as you came very close to doing today." His voice had gone thick, and Ranma realized with a sudden shock that his father was very close to tears himself. Genma removed his glasses, wiped one dirty sleeve across his eyes, and went on.

"Because if we do, they will hunt us down, using weapons we cannot fight, and they will kill us. And our arts will disappear forever. Do you understand, boy? We live because they let us."

Ranma nodded, and found, to his own astonishment, that he did understand what his father was talking about. Far from the elation he had felt earlier, he now felt as though he were about to vomit.

"Boy, I want you to promise me that you will never again do what you did today. Promise me that you'll control yourself, that you won't do that kind of harm to someone, no matter what they've done to you." He stood up, and once again seemed to blot out the sun, at least from the perspective of a six year old. "I won't have my son becoming a killer."

Ranma nodded, fighting back the tears of shame that were even now squeezing between his eyelids. "I promise, dad..."

-12 Years Later-

Ranma walked slowly along the darkening streets between the Tendo Dojo and Tofu's office, rather than running along fence railings or across rooftops; his normal method of travel. Those passersby that saw him attempted to steer clear without making it obvious that they were doing so. Ranma was a bit of a celebrity around there, after all, and they knew enough to recognize the obvious signs of a foul mood. He muttered as he went, grumbling over the general injustice of the world, and specifically its attitude towards him. This did not increase the desire of others to come near to him.

He heard her footsteps rapidly approaching long before Akane caught up to him, and turned to meet her. The cut on her scalp had been more thoroughly washed than he had been able to accomplish, and two neat stitches were visible just below the hairline.

It doesn't make her any less beautiful, he thought, and then gaped inwardly. Where the hell did that come from? True, the sight of Akane had long caused all kinds of odd sensations and thoughts, but rarely had they been so blatant as that. I must really be out of it.

Akane watched quizzically as Ranma stared at her, apparently unaware of what he was doing. "Are you alright?" she asked. He jumped as though startled, causing her to grin. "Well, okay. I'm not distracting you, am I?" She knew she shouldn't play with him like that, but it was a rare bit of humor these days, and she didn't want to pass it up.

"Hmm. Maybe a bit," he said. They continued to walk for a while in silence. The sound of passing vehicles, and the subdued speech of pedestrians filled up the gap normally occupied by conversation.

"So, what did..." began Ranma, at nearly the same instant that Akane said "Well, I talked..."

They both broke off, and stared at each other momentarily, before Ranma gave a wan but still genuine smile. "Hey, you first."

Akane nodded, smiling herself. "I talked to Cologne some more after you left. She seems serious about this."

Ranma laughed. "I bet she is. Too bad for her."

She looked at him severely. "I believe her, you know."

He nodded. "Me too. She's never gone and really lied to us before. Maybe stretched the truth here 'an there, but she ain't lied. If she says demons 'an dark gods 'an stuff like that's coming, I believe her. I just don't give a damn."

Akane eyed him, disbelieving. " You can't be serious. If we're really needed..."

He shook his head. "No. I'll help fight 'em, no problem. But I ain't doing... whatever it was that I did today. Not ever again. And since that's what she wants, I'm not working with her either." His voice was flat, a statement of fact rather than opinion. "And if you knew what it was like, you wouldn't help her either."

She sighed. "Well, I don't know what it's like. I guess it must be pretty awful..."

"Worse 'n cats."

She stared at him. "Wow," she said. There was a long silence as her mind tried to cope with Ranma's statement. Finally, she attempted another overture. "But I guess you become really powerful, right? At least there's that..." Her voice trailed off as Ranma began shaking his head again.

"Hell no. Yeah, I guess I get strong. I snapped Ryoga's arm like it was nothing..." He winced at the faint memory of it. "I can just barely remember it. It was like the whole world was in slow motion." He shook his head again. "But it wasn't my strength. It was this goddamn thing in me." His fist lashed out, and made a small indent in a nearby concrete wall. He stopped walking, attempting to calm himself down. Akane stopped alongside him, fighting the suddenly powerful instinct to comfort him.

"I think I understand..." she began, and then stopped as Ranma looked back toward her angrily. She rolled her eyes, refusing to be intimidated. "I meant that I understand as well as anyone can, alright?" He nodded, grudgingly. She sighed again. "I wonder what we're going to tell our parents, though."

He grunted. "Why do we need to tell them anything? They'll find out soon enough anyway, if demons and things start showing up. And my pop'd probably try to put me through some kinda special training or something. And your dad'd completely freak out."

She looked at him pityingly. "Well, that's true as far as it goes. But what I mean is, don't you think that they might already know what's going on?"

Ranma stopped stock still, and turned towards his fiancée. "What do you mean?" he said.

She grimaced. "Well, this was supposed to have happened to us when we were infants, right? I don't know about you, but my parents never left me alone for very long when I was a baby. So how could Cologne's friends have put these demon souls inside us without their knowing?"

He stared at her for several long moments, completely silent. If she listened hard enough, Akane thought she might have been able to hear outraged thoughts cascading through his mind. A twitch had begun to develop under his right eye.

"Sonofabitch..." he whispered. Then he turned and began running toward the dojo. Akane followed as quickly as she could, although she was badly overmatched by his speed. She attempted to keep up regardless; suddenly certain that for the second time that day, Ranma had murder on his mind.

The Tendo home was relatively quite that evening, despite the presence of Happosai. The withered old master of Anything Goes Martial Arts was currently captivated by a television program involving women possessed of figures that were only of dubious possibility frolicking about a beach in various states of undress. The rest of the household believed that it was worth the pain of having to listen to his undisguised squeals of joy to escape his otherwise interminable attentions.

Soun was, for once, not engaged in a game of 'go' with Genma, and was instead settled at the table reading a paperback novel. Occasionally, he would surreptitiously peak over the battered cover and risk a glance at the same program that Happosai was watching. Genma was busy going over a large stack of financial records with Nodoka; bills concerning the impending reconstruction of their demolished house. Or, rather, Nodoka was busy keeping Genma attentive to the task by means of both persuasive argument and sharp blade.

The abandoned game table sat in one corner, almost contriving to sulk from lack of attention.

Nabiki was in her own room, going over her own set of financial reports, and Kasumi was, as was her wont, busy providing the rest of the family with cups of expertly made tea. Even Happosai was provided for.

This scene of rare tranquility was shattered when Ranma entered, slamming the door open with such force that it flew off its track. Ignoring the quizzical looks of all present, he marched over to his father, gripped him by the collar of his gi, and slammed him forcefully into the wall.

Genma blinked, stunned by the sudden blow. "Something the matter, boy?"

"Damn right there is," Ranma growled. "You sold me again, didn't you? Old bastard, I oughta..." His voice devolved into a frustrated scream, and he shook his father to emphasize the point. Genma's glasses were dislodged, hanging from one ear in a rather comic fashion.

Genma looked across the room at Soun, his face a picture of helpless confusion. Soun returned the gaze, shrugging. "Don't look at me, Saotome. This isn't the first time one of your, ah, 'business deals' have come back to haunt you."

"But I didn't do anything!" protested Genma, attempting to right his glasses. Ranma slapped his hand away, preventing him.

"Bullshit! So you just didn't happen to notice a buncha secret society types coming in and doin' rituals on me when I was a baby? I mean, even you weren't that bad of a parent..." Ranma dropped his father. It was only when Genma's feet touched wood again that he realized that he had been lifted several inches from the floor. "Alright, pop. I want you to tell me exactly what happened. I'll beat it out of you if I have to, but it's been a long day, 'an I'd rather not mess the room up any more."

Genma shook his head, bewildered. "Ranma, what you're talking about just doesn't ring a bell... No! Wait!" he cried, as Ranma stepped toward him again. "I'm telling the truth! I mean, sure, I've sold you before. Lots of times! But I always remembered to get you back!" He gazed around the room for support, as though this were something to be proud of. Soun groaned, Kasumi sighed, and Happosai snickered. Nodoka's face had gone deathly pale, and she was clutching her cloth-wrapped katana for support.

Ranma's eyes narrowed. "Oh, well that's a real convincing argument, pops. Care to try again?"

Kasumi laid a cool hand on his shoulder. "Ranma, why don't you settle down and tell us what this is about? Maybe then we'll understand why you're so upset."

The anger that had built up inside him washed away, as it always did when Kasumi spoke to him. Now feeling only a residue of bitterness towards Genma, he sat down on the floor. "Yeah, fine. Let's see..."

Ranma's introduction to the events of the past several hours was interrupted as Akane finally caught up to him, gasping for breath as she stumbled into the room. Attempting to race her fiancé was an exercise in futility at the best of times, much less when he was as angry as he was now, and she was near exhausted as a result. She looked at Genma, and sighed in relief. "Oh... good... You haven't.... killed him... yet." She sat down heavily, trying to ignore the sweat that was trickling across her cut, causing annoying prickles of pain.

Genma rubbed the back of his head where it had been knocked against the wall. "Not for lack of trying, I think."

Ranma looked up at him, irritated. "Oh, you'll know when I try, you lyin' bastard..."

Souns stood up, interrupting the both of them. "Enough of this. I want to know what's going on here. Akane, what happened to you?" His face was concerned, but had not yet broken into tears. Beside Genma, Nodoka twisted her katana worriedly.

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind knowing myself." Nabiki's voice announced her presence as she strode unconcernedly into the middle of the gathering. "What?" she said, watching everyone's nonplussed expressions. "I heard Ranma shouting, and some thumps, and I decided to come down and watch. It's like having a floor show in your own home." She sat down next to where Soun had been sitting. "So, go on. Don't mind me."

Akane nodded. She'd mostly managed to get her breath back by this time; she was in very good shape, after all. "Alright then. Now, this is what I've been able to figure out about what's happened..." She proceeded to explain a far more coherent version of the events of the day than Ranma had been prepared to give, and as a result he found himself keeping quiet except for when he genuinely had something to add. Despite himself, he discovered that he was growing impressed with her ability to keep calm in the middle of all this.

"And so we think," a nod here towards Ranma which was gratefully accepted, "that for these 'Guardians of the Veil' to have done this to us, our parents must have known something about it. And I think that both of us would like to know why you allowed it." Her voice was still calm, but carried an underlying sense of anger. Ranma's gaze echoed her statement.

For the part of her audience, their reactions were varied. Kasumi showed polite interest during the whole of it, but offered no questions. Happosai became visibly interested when demons were mentioned, Nabiki when secret societies were. Genma began to look ill, and Soun began weeping noisily at the descriptions of the turmoil Ranma was going through, and which Akane would soon have to. Nodoka was shaking near the end of it, staring at nothing.

Ranma noted all of this, but continued to shoot worried glances toward his mother. She was taking all of this worse than he had expected, and he was beginning to suspect that he might have hurt her somehow. The familiar guilt was beginning to worm its way into his gut by the time the story ended.

Genma scratched his head. "Look, this a pretty incredible story, but we've all seen some pretty incredible things. I wouldn't have believed Mount Phoenix if I hadn't seen it myself."

"Thanks for mentioning that, pops..." grumbled Ranma.

"But as sorry as I am for all that's going on," the older Saotome continued, "I still don't remember anything of the kind. I know for a fact that I'd never have allowed anyone to do anything so despicable to my only son..."

"Except you, right?" Ranma's anger was growing again. "C'mon, pop, pull the other one. I know that you had something to do with this!"

Genma began to protest once again, when Nodoka laid a restraining hand on his knee. She licked her lips nervously before speaking. "Ranma... Son. Your father, however dishonorable he may have been in the past, is this once being truthful with you. He had nothing to do with this." Her voice was weak and brittle with unshed tears, and her face was dead white. "I'm afraid that this time the blame lies with me."

He looked at his mother disbelievingly. No way...This isn't possible. She wouldn't have done anything to hurt me...

Nodoka's hands traced a vague pattern through the air, as though she couldn't decide what to do with them. "I'm so sorry, my son..." She began to weep openly, her own tears causing Soun to halt his blubbering, and Genma to awkwardly place his arm around her shoulder, unsure of how to comfort her.

"S...So...Sorry..." she continued, unheeding. "But... but there wasn't any money... Genma hadn't had a job in such a long time, and we were in debt, and... and then came these people..." She placed her hand against her eyes, and tried to choke back her sobs. "They offered me money... more than I could afford to turn away. They said it wouldn't hurt you!" Her voice had become a wail. "What else could I have done? I didn't know this would happen. I watched the whole time... the whole time..." She finally broke down, lapsing into incoherent weeping.

Ranma stared at her, mouth slightly open in astonishment. He moved over to her, and placed his own arm around her, opposite his father's. "Hey, it's okay, mom. It's all right, I promise. We can work through this, 'kay? It'll just take some getting used to..." He was vaguely astonished to hear the lies popping out of his mouth, but he couldn't leave his mother in pain like this.

"Hmmph. You wouldn't have been so forgiving if it had been me," muttered Genma. This earned him a withering glance from his son.

Across the room, Soun absently lit a cigarette. He puffed on it for a few moments before staring again at the broken gathering of Saotomes. "Well... as long as you think that you'll be all right..." He sighed, wondering if that was how he looked during his own crying jags. He turned back toward Akane. "Likewise, I'm afraid that I have to deny involvement in this. Unless your mother was also involved in this business, I can't explain how they got to you." He sighed again. "What a mess. Demons and evil gods, and ancient wars, and all the rest of it. And the old woman wants you to move in with her. I can't say I approve of the idea, not after what she's done to you. Besides, Ranma can handle a few demons without her help."

Across town, death was being dealt. Hoshiro was a small time businessman, a paper pusher at an electronics firm. His life was positively dull for someone who lived in Nerima. He got up every day, said goodbye to his wife and children, and went to work. Then he would come home, eat dinner, interact with his family, and finally go to sleep. Hoshiro's life was placid. Hoshiro's life was ordinary. Hoshiro's life was ending.

My god, my god this can't be happening to me. This sort of thing only happens to the crazies, not people like me. This can't be real, it can't, it can't, it...

His last thoughts trailed off into nothingness as his soul was forcibly ripped from his body, and devoured by the snake-like being that held him in his coils. It consumed the morsel slowly, relishing the terror that suffused it. This ground had been rich for feeding, and its power was growing with each new victim.

The sound of people coming to investigate the man's screams drew closer. It hissed, and melded into the darkness. The people of this world had painful weapons, it seemed, and it did not want to feel their bite again until it was ready. There were plenty of other people who walked foolishly alone in this city. By the time dawn came, it should be nearly up to full power.

Nabiki had excused herself from the others almost as soon as Nodoka had begun crying. It wasn't as though she was truly disturbed by the sight of grief, but all those tears from someone other than her father did make her a bit uncomfortable. And she had work to do anyway.

She'd barely been able to contain her excitement as she listened to Akane's tale. Demons and Angels and possession and invasions were all very interesting, she was sure, and certainly important. What she was truly intrigued by, however, were these 'Guardians of the Veil.'

A secret society founded thousands of years ago, followers of a vanished race of gods! And who even now commanded enough clout to manipulate individuals into living where they chose, without any of them suspecting. And they did more than that too, Nabiki was sure.

She was beginning to put the picture together in her head, even if Akane was unable to do so. Not that Akane was stupid, she reminded herself. She just didn't have the right kind of mind for this. Her mind was all straight lines and sharp edges. It preferred to bulldoze its way through the dirt mounds of life's problems. Nabiki's was a maze of twisted curves. She preferred to make the mounds move themselves.

How much control would a society like this have to have? She thought, climbing the stairs back to her room. Quite a bit, probably. They'd have to have agents across the world to even find these 'children.' Either that, or some kind of magical devices that could do it for them, and that's almost as impressive. And then they'd have to have the monetary resources to bribe the right people. She threw open the door of her room, and flung herself into the chair in front of her computer. It was slim, black, and obscenely overpowered. It was probably the best investment she'd ever made, and she quite liked it. A few clicks of the mouse later, and she'd brought up a collection of files in a folder titled 'Nerima Oddities.'

All the weirdness finally makes sense. Why the news never seems to show the bizarre things that go on here. Why complaints about public property damage never seem to find their way to this house. Why nobody in Japan outside of this town seems to really believe in the supernatural, even though we get them here all the time. Hell, it even explains why a bunch of foreign nationals can just show up one day and set up a business without any warning at all!

Her hand flickered over the keyboard, calling up lists of city and government employees. She began circling the positions that would be essential for such an organization to tap. The people in charge of construction permits. News authorities. Policemen. She sifted through the information, and slowly she began to call forth the patterns in the dross. Placing Cologne at the arbitrary center of the web that was emerging, she smiled.

People often called Nabiki Tendo a mercenary, and indeed she was concerned with money. It bought her nice things, and, when properly invested, allowed her to make even more money.

But the only currency that had ever really mattered was information.

Ranma yawned, stretching his arms high above his head. The strange occurrence of his being genuinely allied with his father in the pursuit of calming Nodoka had been, at first, a bit of a novelty. By the time the two of them, with the aid of Kasumi, managed to put her to bed, however, he was already tiring of Genma's alternately overwrought and venomous behavior. One moment commiserating melodramatically with his wife, and the next implying that somehow all of this was Ranma's fault... His fists clenched hard, causing another uncomfortable pull in his scars.

Akane was standing outside his room waiting for him. She smiled wanly at him as he approached.

"Is she going to be alright?" she asked.

"Dunno. I've never seen her like this. I just hope that pops can get her to tomorrow without doin' something stupid." He shook his head. "Funny, ain't it? I still trust her a helluva lot more than I do him."

Akane grinned, more genuinely this time. "Me too." Her smile faded. "Have you thought about what's going to happen tomorrow? About what we're going to do?"

Ranma shrugged. "Well, I thought we'd go to school. It is Monday tomorrow, right?" Akane nodded. "Right. Well, while we're there, I thought I'd try to talk to Ukyo. Cologne's probably gotten to her by now, an' I'd like to make sure she isn't too freaked out."

He entirely failed to notice that Akane's smile had become brittle, and her right eye was beginning to twitch. He continued speaking, unaware of his headlong rush into certain doom.

"I mean, she's a bit more normal than you or me, right? She never really had to deal with the same weird stuff we did. Taro, an' Saffron, and the rest of that...She might be pretty uspset, y'know?"

Akane voice was tight. "Absolutely. You should probably try to comfort her in her hour of need. After all, nobody else needs you right now."

"Yeah..." He paused. "'Cept Mom. But I think pops has got that end for now." He paused again, and looked at Akane. "You know, you might want to make sure your dad is okay. He seemed alright at the end there, but who knows when he might start up agaiOW!"

Clutching his shin at the point where Akane had kicked him, hard, Ranma performed a rather ungraceful one-legged dance before collapsing to the floor. Akane whirled away indignantly, walked over to her own room, entered, and slammed the door. Ranma pulled himself up by his door handle, still wincing at the twinges of pain shooting through his leg.

"Dammit. Got a kick like a friggin MULE!" He shouted that last part, and was rewarded with an answering cry of "Transsexual Pervert!" from Akane's room. Grumbling, he entered his own room, shut off the lights, and lay down on the futon. Staring up at the ceiling, he waited to fall asleep.

Tomorrow was going to be a brand new day.

And in the hidden shadows of the forest behind Furinkan High School, the serpent slept. It had taken its fill that night, and was content. Away from the glare of street lamps and headlights and shouts and screams, it curled itself around a pine tree, and idly snapped it in half.

This world seemed to be a paradise. Away from its masters, and their instruments of pain, it had found whole arenas of pleasure it never knew existed. The death of these few humans was only the beginning, of course. Here it was, on an unexploited world with none to stop it... The slaughter certainly didn't have to stop here.

It did not think any of this in words. Rather, it dimly perceived this concept of its corpse-filled future as a vague desire running sluggishly through its mind. Thought and planning did not come easily to its breed. Still, it was patient enough. It had taken its fill, and it could sense the residual life force of hundreds in the nearby building. Tomorrow they too could be its prey.