Souls and Shadows
Part 1: A Door Once Opened
Chapter 6
It was early morning, and united by a new common purpose, the collection of young martial artists collectively and colloquially known as the Nerima Wrecking Crew were already training hard in preparation for their great mission.
'United' might have been overstating the situation a bit.
Currently Shampoo, Ryoga, and Akane were watching as Ranma and Mousse sparred, tearing up the hard-packed ground of the Nekohanten's yard in their exertions. It was obvious that Mousse was not holding back; his continual deployment of chains, blades and throwing implements was being utilized to its fullest. Ranma was many things, but not invulnerable, and the prospect of six inches of steel in his gut kept him at his distance.
It was equally obvious that the Master of Hidden Weapons had no chance of winning the match. Despite the almost impossible skill of their wielder, not a single blade came close to hitting its mark. Each chain was dodged with a kind of casual precision that made Mousse snarl in aggravation. And Mousse was beginning to tire.
Finally, Ranma seized hold of a chain that had flown by about six inches to the left of his ear; one that his observations had told him was neither bladed nor spiked along its length. Pulling sharply, he managed to unbalance the other boy, hurling him to the ground. Before Mousse could react, Ranma had his fist at Mousse's throat in a classic finishing move. There was a small grin on his face.
Shampoo broke into enthusiastic applause at Ranma victory, which was accepted with a florid bow, much to Akane's consternation. Mousse scowled as he righted himself, fully aware that there would have been no applause if he had somehow managed to win. The fact that he was likewise unlikely to do so did not escape him either.
Despite Mousse's continual efforts to prove his superiority to Ranma, he knew full well that he wasn't quite in the same league as the Japanese boy. Mousse was strong, quick, and skilled enough at his esoteric form to fight the village champion, if not the elders, to a standstill, something almost unheard of for an Amazon male. He also knew that he had never yet achieved a legitimate victory over Ranma, and understood that the reason behind it was that while his own skill was legendary, Ranma's verged on the mythic.
It had been embarrassing to learn that even with a broken arm, Ryoga was capable of fighting him to the point that had required Cologne's intervention, though.
Ranma was mostly oblivious to this as he danced back into position. "'Nother round, Mousse?" He couldn't help the hopeful expression on his face. Mousse wouldn't have been his first choice for a sparring partner, but Ryoga was out of commission, and he didn't really want to fight any of the girls. He had requested a few matches in the hopes that he'd be able to loose himself in them, and forget the events of three days ago, when he had come close to killing both Ukyo and Hiroshi. Surprisingly, it seemed to be working fairly well.
Since that time, he and his companions had been living at the Nekohanten, with greater or lesser degrees of reluctance. None of the new arrivals felt much joy in the arrangement, and Mousse at least echoed their feelings from the other direction. Shampoo seemed happy enough, and had taken every opportunity to show it during his stay. Consequently, the number of superficial injuries he had sustained was somewhat higher than would normally have been expected, even considering the amount of sparring he was doing.
He'd have to talk to Shampoo about that, once he figured out what in the world he'd say to her.
For now, he lost himself in the renewed flurry of combat as he and Mousse began exchanging blows once more.
Akane watched them, her feelings a complicated mess as usual. On the one hand, she was glad that Ranma seemed to be recovering well, although she was certain that if he'd quit being stupid and just talked about it with her, he come out of it faster. On the other hand, his constant proximity to the other girls meant keeping a close watch on him, which was aggravating in the extreme. He'd suffered a number of blows on her behalf as reminders that...
Her mind shied away from that comment instinctively, but it was more a feeble reflex action than anything else. Two years of habitual thinking were proving difficult to break.
...that he shouldn't do that. That he shouldn't let them hang all over him, not when he had her there, perfectly willing and able to listen to his problems and help him through them no matter that he claimed he didn't want to talk about it...
She shook her head. At least she'd managed to keep him from falling into one of his bleak moods. While normally she would have been happy to see Ranma engaging in a bit of introspection, it seemed that his version of such was more akin to a serious bout of self-recrimination than anything else. They weren't suited to him, and went against everything she... ...loved about him. The word floated through her mind, and for once she didn't shy away from it.
She didn't mind Ryoga, complete with chronic depression, as a friend. She was more than a little unwilling to accept either him, or the near-clone that Ranma seemed in constant danger of turning into, as a fiancé.
And on the other hand... She grinned for a moment at the mental image of her holding up a third hand full of conflicting emotions. ...On the other hand, as she watched Ranma once more casually lay Mousse out on the ground, then stop to help slap the blind boy back into consciousness, she couldn't suppress a spike of jealousy toward him.
It had always been like this, of course. Even when they had first met, Ranma had been so fast, so skilled, that Akane had been unable to touch him, short of one of her anger-fueled surprise attacks. And watching him now, she was very conscious of the fact that if Ranma somehow went back in time to fight his past self, his previous incarnation would have been defeated with even greater ease than she had once been.
She wasn't really a bad martial artist, she knew. She'd won enough competitions to know that. She was ridiculously strong, and fast enough to view most people as though they moved in slow motion, and skilled enough to easily defeat dozens of unskilled attackers at once. The Tendo School of Anything Goes Martial Arts didn't give out dan rankings, considering them to be worthless pieces of accreditation. What mattered was how good she was, not what title she held. But she estimated that she'd probably be sixth or seventh dan if it did give out such things.
Ranma could blow up smallish mountains, though. And that was before the bizarre power that this demonic transformation granted him. It didn't seem fair that he received yet another power boost on top of everything else he already possessed.
Her fists clenched tight as she attempted to keep her displeasure from her face. Danger be damned, she hoped that her own transformation came soon. Being possessed couldn't possibly be worse than being useless.
Ukyo was cooking. This was not in and of itself unusual, since she made her living as a cook, was quite skilled as a cook, and in fact habitually defined her existence as being that of a cook. It was, however, the first time she had done so in several days, and the first time she had ever had the occasion to do so at the Nekohanten.
Currently she was using her small portable grill. It was too small to service anything like a real restaurant crowd, even ones the size of those she usually go in her own tiny restaurant. It was, however, perfectly suitable for her basic needs. On her own insistence, her full-sized grill was being moved from Ucchan's, but would probably not be installed for several days.
Idly, she wondered exactly where they were going to put it. The buildings on either side of the Chinese restaurant had been purchased, she knew, and were already in the process of clearing out their things. The Clothier's to the right had almost completed their move; they'd been paid extra to ensure their speedy departure, so that Tofu could move in his clinic. And new construction was already going up to link the three buildings together.
The small professional center on the other side was going to be converted into a dormitory, she thought. No sense in keeping the 'children' in the command center, where they might be underfoot.
She thrust her spatula under the browning okonomiyaki with something more than the necessary force, causing it to nearly slide off the grill. Yelping, she barely managed to catch it before it hit the ground.
Close, that. I guess I'm still a bit upset. If only Cologne wouldn't treat us like...her internal monologue faltered. She wanted to say 'children', but the word that really kept coming to mind was 'soldiers'.
The last three days had certainly begun to reinforce that opinion. Cologne woke all of them at six o'clock, sharp, and expected them to be ready for training fifteen minutes later. Breakfast with the entire group present had been something of a novelty at first, but the old woman's insistence on a kind of peace treaty between the romantic rivals meant that conversation was markedly subdued. Neither she nor Shampoo attempted to sit next to Ranma, even though she almost ached with the proximity. From the yearning look in Shampoo's eyes, the Chinese girl felt the same.
No, Ranma sat next to Akane. And the worst part was, he looked as though he was doing it on instinct, as though that was simply the place where he fit into the world.
She sighed. It was bad enough losing out to Akane, but losing out to Ranma's own nature was nearly intolerable. It implied that the great contest that she'd devoted nearly a year and a half to had never even existed. There was no race to be run, no judges, and certainly no prize.
Of course, the training helped keep her mind off of that. After breakfast, the lot of them would file into one of the back rooms of the restaurant, and would seat themselves inside a series of what she liked to think of as 'mystic circles.' At least, that's what they looked like to her.
Cologne said that the truth was more complex than that, but Ukyo was of the opinion that the old woman would say anything to make her little soldiers hold her in awe.
From then until lunch, training was what Cologne termed 'directed meditation.' Ukyo though that was a very pleasant euphemism. When she though of those words, thoughts sprang to mind of pleasant incense, and a conductor who would gently guide the trainees with practiced words toward the correct state of mind.
She shouldn't have been so surprise the first time, when she had felt Cologne's powerful ki clamp down around her own, forcing her mind and soul into particular patterns. She had fought it instinctively, forcing the matriarch's presence from her mind... only to find Cologne glaring balefully at her from across the room.
"This will only work if you allow it to. I do not have the ability to control your mind, or even enter it against your will. So if you would care to stop wasting all of our time, stop resisting." The old woman's eyes narrowed, and Ukyo could clearly read the thoughts behind the expression. If you don't, I'll give you a hiding like you've never experienced, girl.
After that, none of them offered more than instinctual resistance, which they quickly stifled. Even Ranma was oddly subdued and compliant throughout the process.
In the last few days, all of them had been brought to the point of feeling the demon-essence inside them. It was... Well, Ukyo wasn't sure what it felt like to the others, but to her it seemed like an iron-hard knot inside her soul. It was perfectly smooth, with neither flaw nor opening, and though it was somehow connected to her, she couldn't for the life of her figure out what to do with it.
Not that any of the others had been having any more luck. Ranma in particular didn't appear to want to have anything to do with attempting to activate the demon-essence within him. His recalcitrance had, so far, cost him one of the allotted 'free times,' normally spent from dinner till bed doing whatever suited their fancy. That time, he'd spent it hauling lumber for the construction workers. While in girl form.
His willingness to try had improved markedly after that.
From lunch to dinner had been spent in martial training. She supposed that the sparring was helpful, and was certainly useful for keeping their minds from wandering to the less pleasant aspects of their residence at the restaurant, but Ukyo wished that Ranma would let it go at that. Instead, he seemed to think that his 'free time' was best spent continuing the sparring sessions. And, since everyone else seemed to like a good show, she was left alone.
Not that she particularly minded, but...
The door opened. Akane entered the room, her face fixed in it's accustomed scowl. Ukyo grinned slightly at the sight. Despite the girl's obvious concern over Ranma, Akane appeared to have been the least affected by all of this. Heck, at times she almost seemed happy to be here. Now, however, was obviously not one of those times.
Akane approached, then hesitantly pulled up a chair and sat down in front of the grill. A few moments passed without either of them saying anything. Ukyo continued her preparations as the silence stretched into the realm of the terminally uncomfortable.
Finally, Akane broke, as Ukyo knew she would. "So... what are you making?" she said, not quite meeting her eyes.
Ukyo replied in the same fashion. "Okonomiyaki."
Akane frowned. "I can see that. What kind?"
The chef shrugged as she flipped it over again, the oils in the food sizzling as they touched the hot grill, giving off a delectable and somewhat spicy aroma. "Dunno yet." She looked up and grinned at Akane. "I'm sort of just grabbing ingredients without looking; the ones that feel right to me when I put my hands on them... It's like zen cookery." She laughed at Akane's suddenly concerned expression.
"Um... Ukyo, are you sure about that? I'm told... Well, it's just that people tell me that that's one of the reasons..." Akane's voice trailed off.
"Mm Hmm..." Ukyo nodded, breaking out a jar of sauce without looking at the label. "That's one of the reasons that your cooking ain't so good. One of them." She grinned again as Akane's face once more resolved into a look of anger. "But it's a little different for me. When I try it, they usually come out pretty good. I like to think of it as releasing recipes that have been trapped inside me." She flipped the completed food item off of the burner and onto a plate with one easy motion. "Here, go ahead."
Akane eyed it nervously. She was familiar enough with her own disastrous attempts at 'zen cookery' to be wary of anyone else's. And she wasn't sure that she recognized half of the ingredients. Hesitantly, she cut away a portion of the Okonomiyaki, and lifted it to her mouth.
It was delicious, of course. Ukyo's creations always were. And somehow, that was far more depressing than if she had gotten a mouthful of inedible slime.
"So, how was it?" Ukyo appeared genuinely curious.
Akane swallowed. "Good, I suppose." She was careful to keep the despondent note out of her voice.
"Really? Great! I was a little distracted while I was making it, so I though I might have screwed up a bit. It was a good thing you were around to take the bullet for me."
Akane watched Ukyo incredulously as the other girl began preparing a second okonomiyaki. She used me as a guinea pig! That's... That's... Her mind warred with itself, her outrage battling the insistent idea that other people's cooking wasn't quite as dangerous as her own.
Finally, she calmed down, without throwing either an insult or a punch. She was actually rather proud of that. "Well, it's not too much of problem." Her hands twitched in her lap. Just one punch? She shook off the desire. "Ukyo... I wanted to talk with you a bit."
Ukyo blinked, gave Akane a speculative glance. "Sure. Nothing wrong with that."
Gray was busy learning all about the world, and the city of Tokyo in particular. Normally such an endeavor would have been accomplished by living in the city, or at least by reading books and periodicals containing the knowledge of people who did. In the interests of expedience, Gray had decided to speed things up a bit.
The hiker barely gave a gasp as he was flung back to the ground. His mind, just recently occupied with thoughts of how nice it was to get away from the urban sprawl for a change, gibbered insensibly, scrambled beyond hope of reclamation by the demon's invasive mental probes. He'd lived in Tokyo all his life, and had been a veritable treasure trove of information about its day-to-day existence.
"A pity you knew nothing about governmental or military workings, though," murmured Gray, wiping his hands across the front of his fog-colored robe. "Just a salaryman. Typical, unfortunately."
His partner, dressed in a robe of shimmering white, stood slightly off to one side, frowning. The consternation on his face was visible even beneath the cowl that shrouded it. "Don't you think that it be better to hold off on killing the natives? You've received some knowledge of the weapons that they possess by now. If they discover what we're doing, and come in force..." His complaint stopped as Gray held up a restraining hand.
"It won't happen." Gray smiled; an easy, pleasant expression. He often smiled, being often pleased by life and the way things worked out in it. "There were some deaths a few days before. Probably committed by that rogue Shandago. But after that, there were no reports of any relevant kind. The deaths have stopped, but there are no reports of monstrous creatures being slain or captured. What does that say to you, junior partner?"
White scowled. He disliked being referred to in that fashion. "That someone is controlling the information sources? If the Shandago were still alive, it wouldn't have stopped feeding. So someone must have kept mention of the creature away from the media, if our own 'sources' hadn't heard of it."
Gray's smile grew wider. "And the reason for this?" He cut off White just as the other demon was about to speak, causing his mood to slip down another notch. "I'd be willing to bet that it's because they're afraid to bring this little war onto an open battleground." He shook his head. "Foolishness. That means that we can do what we wish, as long as there aren't any witnesses." His smile dropped for a moment as he pondered, then resumed. "I believe that it's time we established a base of operations."
"So soon?" The doubt was evident in White's voice, and caused a small chuckle from Gray's direction.
"Absolutely. There's certainly no reason not to, and think of how much more we'll be able to learn once we have access to a full equipment suite." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "I always feel better when I have a command center. It makes the whole endeavor seem so much more... real, don't you think?"
White sighed. There was no denying his senior's intelligence; Gray had a brilliant reputation, and was one of very few Lieutenants that had the authority to implement his own programs without consulting Dis. But the way that the older demon treated the entire business as some sort of game was almost... insulting. "I think that we may attract notice if we simply stroll into town. If there is an organization capable of controlling the information flow, it won't take them long to become suspicious of two foreigners with no papers attempting to purchase the kind of space we'll need."
Gray laughed. "What, you thought I meant in the city itself?" He shook his head. "Of course not. I was thinking, perhaps, one of those." He pointed to the north, where a number of medium sized farms sat, plying their trade in the shadow of the metropolis. "Our 'sources' haven't had much information on them. That indicates that they don't interact much with the inhabitants of the city. It may be possible to take over without anyone becoming informed."
White pursed his lips nervously. "There are a million things that could go wrong with that."
"And it will be ever so much fun dealing with those things, won't it?" Gray laughed again at the expression on his junior partner's face, and began walking toward the north, leaving no footprints behind him.
Nabiki sat frowning at the computer as she sipped from her diet soda. In the background, the sound of Kasumi vacuuming mingled discordantly with latest hit single from... whomever. She wasn't paying much attention to either. The information that she'd been collecting was coming along nicely; she had a fairly extensive information network to draw on, and was doing so to the fullest extent.
The majority of those she knew woefully misunderstood her, she thought. They believed her to be a petty information broker and supplier; powerful enough in her own circle, but not much of anything as far as the greater world was concerned. People paid her, and she delivered those items of satisfaction as were sought by schoolchildren.
They never seemed to question what she did with the money. Except for a few small indulgences, she never seemed to spend anything. Her abilities at getting others to cover her expenses were legendary. And that was, of course, the secret.
Most people believed that the majority of her cash income was spent on paying for the massive insurance rates that the dojo inflicted on her family. That was true, up to a point. More specifically, her money was largely spent on making sure that her family did not need to pay insurance.
She had an understanding, conducted through letters and electronic mail, with some of the more powerful figures in organized crime. The understanding went something like this: My family and I are off limits. I know who you are, and where you live, and I am not bound by the same rules that the police are. If you cross my boundaries, I can send Ranma and company to your doorstep.
I don't think that he ever figured out how many of those 'muggers' were actually Yakuza enforcers... she thought, taking another sip. They learned their lesson pretty quick, though. She smiled. If it weren't for Ranma dropping into her life, she probably would still be a petty information broker. Being bright and resourceful were all well and good, but if one wanted to compete with giants, one needed big rocks.
Her smile melted away, replaced again by a frustrated scowl. That brought her to her current problems, actually. The first was aggravating, but not insurmountable: While she had a pretty good idea by this time about who in Nerima was beholden to these 'Guardians,' she had very little ability to trace their activities outside the city, and particularly outside the country. She could always attempt to activate some of her foreign assets, but that was risky. They weren't bound to her network the way the locals were, which meant that they would require payment, probably in the form of the ubiquitous 'favor.' Favors could get awfully pricey.
Still, she could do it. But that ran her straight up the nose of the second problem: Why?
She'd begun this attempt to uncover the mysteries surrounding Nerima with enthusiasm, only to find it taper off even as she reached a genuine body of information. What good could it do her? Blackmail was out of the question; they'd amply demonstrated their ability to bend the media to their own ends, and if she even tried... Her frown deepened. Ranma and his ridiculously powerful friends had been her trump card for some time now, but even discounting the fact that they now appeared to working for these 'Guardians'... She sighed. It was doubtful that Cologne was the only impossibly deadly weapon they could field in response. She might even be enough by herself.
The dangers obviously outweighed any possible reward. And yet... Curiosity. A frivolous, wasteful emotion, but that was what it ultimately came down to. She wanted to find out who was behind this, and why they had decided to target her baby sister.
Well, maybe not just curiosity, she thought, as the surge of animosity ran through her. Something about this whole 'secret society in charge of saving the world' explanation just rang a bit false with her, and she wasn't about to let her own flesh and blood swim in untested waters. Especially when the swimmer was Akane.
The sound of the vacuum silenced for a moment, followed by a knock on the door. "Nabiki? May I come in?" Kasumi's voice was quiet and polite, as always. It'd probably take a lot more than ghosts and demons to change that, thought Nabiki.
"Oh, sure. Come on in." Nabiki fiddled idly with the mouse for a few moments, then dropped it with a sigh as Kasumi entered, dragging the vacuum behind her. The older Tendo daughter paused briefly, looking at Nabiki with some concern.
"Nabiki, are you alright? The last few days have been tough on everyone, I know. And you've hardly left your room..." Her eyes focused on the screen. "What is it you've been working on up here?"
Nabiki shrugged. "Oh, I'm fine. Just dandy. I've been digging up the local structure of these 'Guardians' for a couple of days now, and just now realized that it might have been wasted effort. That's all." She gave a minute snort of disdain. "I don't trust them. Maybe I'm crazy, but what I've heard of them just seems to be too mythic for real life."
Kasumi nodded. "I quite agree with you, I think." She reached down for the electrical socket, and plugged in the vacuum. She was about to begin cleaning when Nabiki stopped her by the simple expedient of grabbing her wrist. The middle daughter's face suddenly bore a curious expression.
"You agree with me? Why?"
Kasumi gave one of her trademark tiny smiles. "Well, I hardly think that inflicting innocent children with such horrible fates would be the work of the good people. And even more than that..." She sighed, the smile dropping away. "An organization like this could have done so much good in the world, don't you think? Especially having existed for so long. And yet, they've done nothing to help feed the hungry or protect the helpless." She shook her head. "They're obviously dedicated to their goal, but dedication is only a virtue when it does not come at the expense of what is right." The smile returned, although somewhat more wan than before.
Nabiki stared at her sister blankly for a few moments. She wasn't used to hearing such cogent analysis from her sister, whom she frankly thought of as being a bit on the dim side. "Right..." she said, slowly. "So, given that these 'Guardians' may not, in fact, have our best interests in mind... What do we do about it?"
Kasumi shrugged. "Don't you usually... ah, 'persuade' people by..." She waved a hand vaguely. "...well, by threatening to..." She trailed off.
The younger sister grinned. "It's called blackmail, sis. And yes, I do. But the biggest problem with that, is that I can't think of anyone who the guardians would give a damn about if they knew."
Kasumi seemed to ponder this for a moment, and then shrugged again. "Not anyone? Oh dear..." She switched on the vacuum, and began cleaning the room; slow, even sweeps that left not so much as a square inch of the room untouched. Her voice rose slightly in order to speak over the noise. "Well, maybe you'll just have to look further abroad."
Nabiki nodded absently, concentrating on the screen again. After a while Kasumi finished with the carpet and exited the room, leaving Nabiki alone with her thoughts once again.
Further abroad...
Her face broke out in a sudden grin. Perhaps there was a group that the Guardians would care about if they were to gain a list of their operatives... And it wouldn't make her a traitor, not per se, not as long as she didn't have to actually give up the info. The threat itself didn't tarnish her...
She suppressed a small laugh. All she had to do now was figure out a way to contact them.
Ukyo winced as the door slammed shut behind Akane, almost bouncing off of its runners from the force behind it. While she was still pretty sure that Cologne wouldn't make any of them responsible for repairs to the place, she didn't want to test the theory by inflicting too much property damage.
The conversation between her and Akane had not gone well.
At first, it was hesitant and nervous, as most conversations between her and the Tendo girl were these days. After a bit of initial probing, Akane had finally confessed that she wanted to talk about their bindings. Ukyo didn't, but had acquiesced regardless.
Then Akane had begun pouring out her usual slew of vacillating, conflicting viewpoints on the issue. About how awful Ranchan was taking it, and how she felt sorry for him, but how he obviously wasn't working hard enough to bring it under control. About how she herself was actually looking forward to her own transformation, regardless of what it did to her, and it couldn't possibly be entirely bad, could it? After all, it had made Ranma finally express himself toward her....
There had been a rather long pause at that point, as both of them remembered the public kiss that had taken place between the Changed Ranma and Akane three days previous.
Akane's face had reddened in embarrassment as she attempted to claim that she hadn't meant that, of course. Ukyo had asked what she had meant, then.
And from their negotiations had broken down entirely.
Ukyo shook her head. She wasn't proud, really of the things that she had said. Intimating that Akane was an actual failure as a fiancée for not supporting her partner through this time was probably a bit harsh, even if there was some truth to it. But dammit that girl was infuriating.
Her hand tightened around the haft of her cooking spatula. Everything that she wanted, Akane possessed without thought of effort. And worse, she didn't even seem to want what she had. Akane was going to marry Ranma someday, Ukyo knew, unless something truly bizarre happened. That was painful enough. But it might be a bit less so if the other girl would start acting like she had won something worth the contest.
Ranma had kissed Akane.
She'd seen the picture, of course. Ranma, curled up in Akane's lap, in the full throws of the Nekoken, kissing her gently. It somehow didn't have the same impact as seeing him pull her to him like a character out of a cheap romace novel...
She grimaced. That wasn't an image she really wanted to think about.
Ranma had kissed Akane, while Changed. He had called her 'beloved.'
That was something to think about, wasn't it? It implied that Ranma, even while changed, was still himself, somehow. At the very least, it seemed as though whatever he was while Changed possessed the same memories, and the likes and dislikes. He did still appear to love Akane, after all. And he appeared to think of Ukyo, dear sweet Ukyo, as his 'best friend.'
Damn him, she thought.
But that was fairly disturbing. Because all of that meant that if Changed Ranma and normal Ranma were the same person, however twisted, there was some part of him that was capable of torturing friends to death, as he had almost done. Capable of coming very close to killing her, in fact.
She attempted to shake off the disturbing line of thoughts, and came close to tipping the jar of seaweed over onto the grill. Pausing to right it, she began repeating to herself what had lately become almost a mantra.
It's not him, not really. It's not how he'd really act. Even if they are the same person, they're two different faces. The same person, but different sides. Once he learns to take control of it, it'll be different. He'll learn; he always does...
She idly flipped over the Okonomiyaki, noting with some satisfaction the perfect fried crispness of the side she had just completed.
Her eyes widened, and for a moment she stood frozen, staring at the grill. Oh wow... she thought. Is it really that simple?
Once again, Ranma threw Mousse to the ground. This time, it took rather longer for the Chinese boy to get up. He groaned slightly, wiped some of the dirt from his face with the sleeve of his robe, and levered himself back into a standing position. It was obvious that he was tired, and in some amount of pain from the beatings that Ranma had been giving him. Mousse glared as his opponent danced back into position.
"C'mon, Mousse, you're not done yet, are ya?" Ranma too appeared to be suffering some ill effects from the extended melee. He'd not yet been struck, but a pair of rips across the chest of his shirt attested to the fact that some of Mousse's attacks had been close calls.
Mousse grunted as he righted himself. "Oh no, not yet, Saotome." He grinned, hidden by the sleeve of his robe. There was still one trick he had left, one that he'd been saving for just this moment. He lowered his hand, and took up a combat stance once more.
From the sidelines, Shampoo groaned. "Ahh, stupid Mousse! You no can beat Ranma! He show you many-many times already, yes? So often, and still you know learn..." She shook her head sadly.
Mousse's eyes narrowed at her comments. Damn you, Saotome. If it weren't for you, she'd be singing my praises. He remained silent, however, and simply launched into his usual routine of attacks.
Only seconds later, it was already clear that his opponent was growing bored with him. Mousse hadn't bothered to introduce any innovations into his attack pattern, and Ranma had already defeated several sequences like this. Impatience was already beginning to show on his face. Perfect.
"So, Saotome," said, Mousse, his voice deliberately casual. "I hear some fairly interesting stories about what happened a few days ago." He was rewarded with a flash of irritation in Ranma's eyes, and a sudden spike of anger in his aura.
"Don't wanna talk about it, Mousse," growled Ranma, effortlessly deflecting a series of strikes from a previously concealed tetsubo.
"So sorry. Still, some of those stories have really captured my attention. I was hoping that perhaps you could shed some light on them..." Mousse barely managed to dodge a vicious roundhouse kick as a look of unadulterated rage came over Ranma's face.
"I told you to shut up, duck-boy!" Ranma's moves were becoming more erratic, the way they always did when he was foolish enough to allow his emotions to the fore.
Now.
"I hear that you kissed Akane in public."
Ranma skidded to a halt in the middle of an attack sequence, an incredulous expression shooting across his face. Immediately, Mousse responded, catching Ranma a blow across the face with a staff that had appeared as if from nowhere, knocking him to the ground.
"Hmmph." Mousse smiled as he brought the tip of his staff around to rest at Ranma's throat. "It looks like I win this round." He turned toward the audience, and gave a bow that was at least the equal of Ranma's own theatrical gestures. After a few moments, he straightened, once it was clear that no applause was forthcoming.
Shampoo sniffed disdainfully. "Was dirty trick. No was real win. Never can beat him in fair fight." With a final, contemptuous toss of her hair, she turned her back, leaving a stricken Mousse behind her.
Ryoga shook his head. He agreed with Shampoo, if it came to that, having been victim to similar ploys at Ranma's hands once too often. Still, he wouldn't have been that harsh to Mousse. "Eh, it was alright. It'll only work on him once though, so be careful not to try it again."
Mousse simply stood there, trying hard to blink back tears that were even now beginning to form behind his coke-bottle glasses. That's not fair...If he'd beaten me the same way, she'd have applauded him. His teeth ground together almost audibly. Even my victories turn to ash with you around, Saotome. His bitter musings were cut short as Ranma grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around to face him.
"Hey! Don't try to get out of what you were talkin' about. Is that really what they're talkin' about around here lately?" Ranma's appeared to have either ignored or forgotten the lost match already. It took Mousse a few moments to remember what he was talking about.
"Hmm? Oh, right. Listen Saotome, everyone and their cousin in this insane town have seen you fight demons before now. And half of them were expecting you to go crazy and start beating seven kinds of hell out of your friends anyway..." He smirked as Ranma's face flushed. "But you kissing Akane... Calling her 'beloved.'" He chuckled. "Oh, that's garnered a few comments all right."
Ranma sputtered for a moment, then threw his hands up into the air and walked away. Mousse grinned. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad day after all. He turned back toward were Shampoo and Ryoga were standing, only to find Ryoga inching away nervously from a trembling Shampoo.
Suddenly concerned, he rushed to her side. "Shampoo, what's wrong?"
She was silent, save for the sounds of choked back weeping.
He tried again. "Darling, if that bastard Saotome's behavior is upsetting you, I'd be more than happy to..." His monologue was cut off by a forceful backhand, which sent him sprawling to the ground. From that low vantage, he could see her as she turned a furious gaze upon him.
"Idiot," she hissed. "I not think about what he do with her... Almost forget what I hear until you bring up again. You hate Shampoo so much, you want torture her?" Tears welled up in her eyes, and were threatening at any moment to cascade down her face.
"No! I...I'd never hate you, my love! I never thought that..."
She wiped one sleeve clumsily across her face. "You never think. Now I go. Leave alone."
Helplessly, he watched her leave.
Gray and White reached the farm before sunset had quite begun, and were surveying their options. Gray was quite pleased with the location's potential as a command center.
"Hmm. Very nice. It's large, but not unwieldy, and has ample storage space for equipment. There appear to be few hands, so we won't have to dispose of too many... And it appears to specialize in an esoteric product as well. I can't imagine that they get many prospective customers here... War Beasts like these are something of a specialist commodity. What did the sign say they were called again?"
"Sumo Pigs, sir," muttered White. He'd never cared for War Beasts, and these ones had looked back at him with undisguised loathing. He hoped he could convince his senior partner to simply do away with them once they had finished clearing out the residents, but thought the prospect unlikely.
"Odd... According to the data we've received, Pigs are supposed to fairly sedentary food animals. Certainly nothing like these behemoths..." Gray made a vague gesture toward a three ton swine who was staring bloody murder at the two of them. "Still, live and learn."
His small grin became a genuine broad smile as the front door opened, revealing an old man in farmer's overalls, carrying a shotgun in one hand. Despite his age, the sharp look he gave the two of them suggested that he still retained the keen vision of youth. "Okay, you two. I don't know what you're doing here, dressed up like that, and I'm not sure I want to. You'd best just get out of here, before I have to protect my property." He punctuated that statement with the unambiguous sound of a shotgun cocking.
Gray's smile grew fractionally wider. "Dear sir... Mr. Unyruu, I believe. I think that you may be jumping to conclusions. My partner, Mr. White and I, are here solely for business purposes." He waved a hand at the fine porcine stock displayed in the yards. "We were thinking of making a purchase, actually."
Unryuu lowered his shotgun fractionally. He still had a bad feeling about this... But Sumo Pigs weren't in the kind of demand nowadays that he could afford to pass up an offer, especially one backed, apparently, by American currency. From the corner of his eye, he saw Akari watching from the window. With one hand, he waved her away. "Well, if you say so. Might I ask what you plan on doing with your purchase? Not usually a lot of call for Sumo Pigs from you Americans... You are American's right? Mr. White, Mr...." His voice trailed off as he waited for the broadly grinning robed man to identify himself.
"Gray," the man finished, in polite tones. "And despite our obvious foreignness, we have considerably interest in this country, and in this very farm. You'd be selling us short if you thought we were not keenly interested in what we might gain here."
He didn't answer my questions. I don't like this... "Well, how many do you plan on purchasing?" There, simple question.
Mr. Gray tapped his chin with a single, slender digit. "Just one, I think."
Mr. White groaned, as though exasperated, and said something to the other man in a harsh, crackling language. Mr. Gray nodded sadly, and replied. "I suppose you're right. This dialogue has passed the point of usefulness." He raised his hand toward Unryuu.
The old man was faster. Almost instantly, the shotgun was leveled toward Mr. Gray's face. "I knew you was up to something rotten. Now I'm going to give you to the count of three to start backing off of my property. One... Two..."
Mr. Gray appeared to ignore him. Instead, he nonchalantly waved his hand, and Unryuu felt the gun wrenched from his grasp. He watched in a kind of numb horror as the gun folded in on itself; the metal twisted and split, the wooden stock splintered, and the 12-gauge shells finally exploded under the pressure. None of the shot escaped the rapidly compacting sphere of metal and wood.
The man in gray dropped his hand, and the twisted ball dropped to the ground with an audible thump. "It would take less effort, and give me rather more pleasure to do the same to you, friend," said Gray conversationally. "I suggest you not fight it. Oh..." His eyes flickered up towards the window where Akari was already moving. Mere inches away from the telephone, she dropped to the floor, bound by invisible chains. "Of course, that's the other thing I'd rather you not do. Silly me for forgetting."
His gaze focused once more on Unryuu. "Now, I suggest you invite us inside, hmm?"
The old man nodded weakly, and, followed closely by the two invaders, went to open the door.
Author's Notes: I hereby entitle this the chapter of DOOM. It was mostly interlude, but I thought it was painfully awkward in parts. Oh well. I'll have to heavily rewrite it, like the last one, but since it was already a week late, I figured I'd just post it for the benefit of my two or three 'fans.'
Next Chapter... Drugged food, demonic transformations, and grievous bodily harm!
Review please, or better yet, e-mail me.