Spirit Guardian
by D'Fused
Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 characters are property of Rumiko Takahashi. Any resemblence to other characters or stories, unless specified, are unintentional. So be it.
Chapter 3
Headaches
Imagine, if you will, a place that is totally neutral. Neutral in the sense that there is nothing defining the area: no light source, yet not completely dark. There is no difference between the up and down, or left and right, or north and south. There is no life as it is defined in this area. No animals, plants, insects, or microorganisms roming around. If such beings had appeared, they wouldn't have lived, for this area had no scientific or natural elments to it. Temperatures don't mean a thing here, nor do those ideals humans have a need to measure in quantity and quality. For lack of a better term, this place would be the perfect ideal of the value-neutral area. Yet, while its a place where everything is as undefined as possible, it has to be somewhere to be defined as a place.
Within this place of neutrality, something exists. A round object rotates slowly, unwavering in its speed and location, although it is hard to tell as much, since such things are inmeasurable here. The object isn't physical in nature, although it has been made so in its crudest forms. Instead, it is a symbol, believed on the physical, spiritual and metaphoric levels, although some will argue its significance on the metaphysic level as well.
The symbol is easy to recognise. Although color, shape and other visual qualities are non-existent on the physical level, the symbolic level of the object holds true, for it is belief that gives it that ability. One side of the symbol is white, not the interweaving of multiple colors to make the appearance of white, but a plain, sharp white color. The other half of the figure is black, not a dark greyish color borderlining black, but a black that is so dark to actually hurt the eyes to look at, if such a vision was possible. These parts are tear-shaped, running along the edges, their points ending off with the other's curve beginning. And within these tears, a small circle of its opposite color pierce their middle, creating an imperfection, if a symbol could be said to have an imperfection.
For humans, this symbol is known to represent the Chinese philosophies of Ying and Yang. Outside of the human manifestation, its true name is the Universal Gear.
Its representation, that all is connected and has a relationship with everything, even its opposite, remains the same. Its a simple, yet complex, concept that covers all aspects of life: instinct and reason, chaos and order, space and matter, life and death, good and evil, male and female, and more than can be put into such simple terms. In every case, the two parts compromise their relationship - Both different, yet the same. Seperated, yet together. Driven apart, yet attracted to each other. Imperfect, yet perfection incarnate.
In balance, yet paradoxal in that balance.
Now where is this place?. Its a place where symbols exists, not on a physical plane, but on a plane that cannot be reached by human manipulation, one where everthing can't be clearly defined by physical human senses. In other words, a realm outside the pysical realm.
Yet, if it is just a symbol, why would it rotate? Wouldn't it need only to exist and be stationary, since it is a symbol of an idea?
Its not a mistake in reason, since, if human eyes could see the symbol within the place, and could actually break down the area into its individual parts, they could tell that the symbol is rotating. But why would a symbol rotate in such a matter, if its just an ideal?
To answer that question, we should look at the essence of the philosophy of the symbol itself. In the best mortal comprehension of the philosophy, there is always two forces, working constantly, interacting and complementing each other. And since all that exists has a balance to it, so does even a symbol of balance need its counterpart.
Thus the question has an answer.. The Universal Gear itself has a counterpart, one that is its balance, so to speak. And that counterpart is...
-----------------------
Ranma was, among anything, his father's son, so he did inherit some of Genma's habits and characteristics. One of those both had in common was the ability to sleep through an earthquake, firestorm, and tornado without even budging. And, like his father, he would be content to stay asleep, as long as something didn't directly make contact with him while he slept through the natural disasters,
So, when Ranma was rudely awaken by an offending elbow of his father, once again in panda form, the teenage protege was, to say the least, not happy. He was, in fact, pretty steamed at the moment, although a pounding headache had its share in the equation too Giving his father a frown, he sat up and blinked his eyes a couple times before yawning. Finally he laid back down after giving his father another glance, waiting to see if another limb would come his way. As he waited, his gaze changed slowly from the side to the ceiling, and his thoughts moved from panda rugs to the weird dream he had before his rude awakening.
Oh, sure, he has had troubling dreams before; the one about Jusenkyo drying up wasn't the worse one that came to his mind off-hand. In fact, Ranma was willing to admit to himself, most of it didn't make much sense to him, especially what seemed to be high philosophy, something he never had thought much of. The Ying-Yang symbol he was familiar with, since he had come across it occasionally while in China, although knowing what it meant was somewhat different. But that wasn't what was troubling him. No, what was troubling him was that it seemed an outside source was sending him the dream, and was narrating the dream as it unfolded. High philosophy about Chinese ideals were never part of his education.
Mentally, he snorted at the last thought. Anything not related to martial arts were never part of his education while growing up. It was another thing to add to an already long list.
Whatever that dream had been for, it hadn't been from his own subconcious, he decided. This, of course, brought up the question of how and where it had come from, and why this night, of all nights.
Ranma didn't have any time to spend thinking any further as his father casually pushed him off the futon and onto the floor. After all attempts to move him back had failed, Ranma silently cursed his cursed pop and opened the door, making his way downstairs.
-----------------------
Ranma wasn't the only person up at this time of the day, or night, depending on your view. Kasumi was up as well, in front of the stove in the kitchen, waiting for the pot to slowly heat up. Although she didn't come close to the Satomoe ability to sleep through almost anything, she was still a sound sleeper. It wasn't like her to wake up in the middle of the night without probable cause, yet, tonight, she had came awake a few minutes ago for no apparent reason. Finding herself unable to fall asleep again, Kasumi did the one thing she knew would help; she had gone downstairs for some warm milk. Understanably, being half-asleep but still knowledgable of her houseguest's sleeping habits, it was a surprise for her to see Ranma also appear in the kitchen.
Without seeing her, Akane's fiance went to the fridge and opened the door, resorting back to another trait both father and son had in common; aquiring huge amounts of substance whenever possible. Yet, in respect to the usual marvel breakfast would be, Ranma only planned to have a light snack before going back to bed.
"Let's see...leftover pork buns...bread...lettuce...rice...cheese..." Ranma said, holding the food with one hand extended outward as he threw bowls and plates with food onto his left. "...boiled eggs...ugh, three boxes of Akane's mystery disaster. Must be tomorrow's lunch. Better throw them away quickly."
Giving the bluish-looking substances a toss into the trash, Ranma turned and closed the fridge, finally registering the eldest Tendo's presence. She, in return, was paying more attention to the food in Ranma's hands as he moved towards the table, moving quickly while his 'snack' wobbled but stayed upright in its little tower. Giving the food a toss, Ranma turned to her as the food landed on the table, giving her a surprise as none fell on the floor and all of it stood upright.
Double-blinking and quietly saying 'oh my' at the performance, Kasumi turned to Ranma, then, finally remembering why she was in the kitchen, quickly turned to the now-boiling pot of milk. Quickly she took the pot off the hot element and onto another to let it cool. Knowing off-hand that it would be too hot to drink for a bit, she once again turned towards Ranma, who was looking slightly worried.
I bet she hasn't done that since she started learning, Ranma thought to himself with crystal clear understanding. She had been preoccupied. By...me?
"Couldn't sleep?" he hesitantly asked.
Kasumi gave Ranma one of her affectionate, motherly smiles.
"Oh, no," she replied. "I just woke up a few minutes ago, for no reason. I decided to warm some milk up, so I could go to sleep." Kasumi frowned for a second, then asked "What about you, Ranma?"
Ranma's only reply was muttered, although the words 'sleeping', 'pop' and 'zoo' were said in the same breath. Kasumi, although seemingly oblivious to the happenings in the house, understood enough of the problems between him and his father to realise Mr. Satome had done something while Ranma was sleeping to wake him up.
Sighing, Kasumi knew neither would be going to bed soon, and decided to make the best of the situation. After taking a quick inventory of the foodstuffs on the table, Kasumi moved over to the cupboards, taking out a couple plates and a knife. Since she was going to be waiting for her milk too, she might as well join Ranma.
-----------------------
For the first few minutes, neither spoke as they consumed their food, Kasumi nibbling on her snack in her delicate way, while Ranma chewing at a respectful pace of one not wanting to be as rude not to taste what was caefully prepared. Without the need to batle over the culinary delights, Ranma was finding himself enjoying the food. Then, as the food dwindled down, both began to dwell on their own thoughts. Kasumi's attention was split between the pot and Ranma, with Ranma making up most of her attention. From past experience, Kasumi knew he was a nice boy, and that he cared for Akane. Oh, sure he did say the wrong thing sometimes, and Akane was alittle tempermental, but they got along well.
Glancing at him at the corner of her eyes, she could tell something was bothering him, but what was exactly wrong wasn't clear. It could be something he and his father were at ends about, but it didn't sound right. Kasumi knew Ranma would mutter darkly whenever he was angry at his father, just as he did when she had asked if he couldn't sleep. At the moment, all he was doing was looking at his empty plate, picking individual rice off the otherwise-clean plate. No, clearly it wasn't something to do with his father.
Ranma, for his part, was indeed distracted, and wasn't thinking of his father in any sort of light. He was trying to remember the strange dream and everything that was said, specifically about how there was balance in everything. From what he could understand, everything that was said made sense to him. If there wasn't balance in everything, there would be nothing to act as a counterweight or to keep everything in check. That he understood. He thought he understood, at least.
His true problem was applying the theory to a situation that he could understand. Naturally, his first thought was to apply it to martial arts.
The night's headache, forgotten while sitting down to eat, slowly made its presence known once again as Ranma recalled every battle he could, looking for an example that would fit this scenario. Comparing it to how he had cancelled Ryoga's Shish Houkodan with his own attack wasn't correct, since they had merely cancelled each other's blast. Nor was the idea of the Umisenken and Yamasenken perfect; they were opposing techniques, but couldn't work together as one.
Movement broke his line of thought as Kasumi stood up and entered the kitchen. He blinked as the drapes stopped moving, and tried to think what was in the kitchen that was so important. Of course. The milk.
After a suitable time elapse, Kasumi returned to the table with two glasses of milk, both warm, but not too hot. Without asking she placed one glass in front of Ranma, sitting back where she had originally sat and sipped on the warm liquid. Ranma only eyed the glass; she had had no idea he would have been up, yet there was enough milk for two full glasses.
Reading the unasked question in his face, Kasumi simply answered, "The milk was still too hot. I added more milk from the fridge to cool it a bit." She smiled as she handed him one. "I'd thought you'd like some too."
A smile slowly grew on his face. Of course, it made perfect sense now.
"Ranma?"
The person in question blinked twice as he focused on the voice talking, seeing a confused Kasumi looking at him, one glasse of warm
milk in her hands and her smile replaced by slight worry. He convinced her that all was alright by picking up his glass and drinking it.
"Kasumi?"
"Yes?"
"Thanks."
Kasumi's smile grew wider when he had thanked her. It was nice to see him being so polite.
"No problem. Warm milk is good for you."
Ranma's smile dropped for a brief second, but it quickly came back. "Yeah, thanks for the that too."
-----------------------
Across Nerima, a certain figure walks along the deserted, dark street, not taking much notice of his surroundings. Some would say, for a martial artist, that such behavior is dangerous, since knowing one's surroundings is crucial while fighting, and fighting isn't neccessarily always in tournaments or dojos. Others would say that such behavior is that of one over-confident in his abilities, which is also a dangerous flaw.
But it wasn't because he was ignorant of his surroundings or over-confident. No, truth be told, the reason he didn't take notice was that he didn't have a clue where he was to begin with.
Almost to confirm everyone's caculable guesses of who this person is, he suddenly let out one of his favorite cries into the night in a moment of frustration.
"WHERE AM I NOW????!!!!"
Not recieving any rely, Ryoga sighed and sat down on the side of the road. Not normally the nocturnal type of person, he nonetheless had traveled the whole night, although he hadn't appreciatively taken stock of where he had ended up. He had passed evidence of his location during the night while in speculation, eyes down on the road and vaguely in front of him. So it might be understandable if he had missed the Cat Cafe, closed for the night. It might also be understood if had missed the sign stating Uchan's, since he only had occasional association with one of several girls with a claim on Ranma. The same could be said when he passed Furiken High or the Kuno manor, as well as several places where he and Ranma had battled, from the vacant lots and school field, to the zoo and parks.
What was interesting, and surprising, was his unintentional passing of the Tendo Dojo without him noticing it. Those who knew him best would expect one of several reactions, depending if he was in human form or in his cursed state at the moment. However, he didn't look to the side and recognise the wall surrounding the estate, nor the signs that proclaimed a familiar place of learning. Somewhere, fate had a quirk of curiosity, since a scenario like this had never played out before. To fulfill this curiosity, and to see if it was a fluke, Ryoga was led around by his lack of direction around the Tendo area and near where his rival sat awake a few times before fate conceded the point; Ryoga Hibiki was distracted.
As what was distracting the nominal Lost Boy was not the first idea that might come to mind. Nor the second. Nor the third. Surprisingly, it would be close to the last thing you would guess. But that would be the case, since its pointless to keep on guessing after finding the answer. No, the thought that distracted Ryoga to the point that he was oblivious of his surroundings was that this would be the night of the dream.
Ever since he had followed Ranma to Nerima, Ryoga had had one dream that frequently occured while he slept. It wasn't a bad dream; far from it. Nor was this dream one which stirred uncomfortable feelings within himself. This dream seemed like any other dream, except for the fact that it occured on a regular basis. It wasn't on a sparadic basis, where he might dream it two days in a row, then go a week or a month before it came again, but a fixed, regular basis that was almost like clockwork. This particular dream would happen once every two weeks, never changing its pattern once in the years he has had them.
Only one discovery over the years had made it bearable. If he chose to stay awake through the nigfht, he wouldn't have the dream. It wouldn't appear the next night, or appear in a waking dream the next day, but would wait the full two weeks before reappearing. It wa a consoltation that he was willing to put up with, although the choice was sometimes out of his hands.
Ryoga sighed and dropped his head. He never understood the dream, how something called the Universal Gear would be so important to him. And the rest made no sense either.
Looking to the sky, he saw the sky starting to change to lighter shades of blue. It was drawing time to when he could set up camp for the night and rest awhile, since the dream never started after a certain time. Another discovery he had made was that the dream only happened within a certain timeframe. He had never asked why this was, as if it had a limited time to act every night. He didn't care to knoow more than how to stop the dream. He never had wanted it to start, and wouldn't miss it when it ended.
Taking a look around, he noticed that his wanderings had taken him into a vacant lot. Ryoga shrugged; it was a good as any other place to set camp, and he doubted anyone wouldn't mind him resting for a few hours before going on.
In relative short time, with the sun rising in the horizon, the Lost Boy had settled in to nap for a few hours. He'd figure things out later.
-----------------------
There weren't many others awake that night, if you discounted those working night-shift jobs or seeking companionship of another. Of those who don't apply to these categories, there were only few that were truly noteworthy to mention.
Charlie was another party awake at this time of day, or night, if you wish to call it such. Unlike Ranma, who had raided the fridge as an excuse to make sense of his world, or Ryoga, who had gotten lost while speculating about his dreams, Charlie had spent it in meditation. His epee was laying in front of him in a position that was akin to that which the samurai had lain their weapons while in meditation; an ironic twist that some might have found amusing. The amusement wouldn't last if those amused knew the blade and weilder could be unsheathed in less than a moment's notice, as could the samurai of old do while meditating also.
Charlie was focusing within, letting his mind flow through his body, analyzing its condition and adjusting the blood and spirit flows for healing any problems internally. It had become a custom for him, everyday, to spend time focused within, mainly to check the condition of his body. It was a time to physically relax, and it was a good excuse sometimes if he had to think about things when he was by himself.
Within an hour of checking into the hotel and asking a few careful questions about the damage to the area, he had confirmed that interesting people did live in the area. What made them so interesting was that most of the damage was caused by fights or challenges by martial artists, most of them of the age that the usual ssigns would appear. Many told stories of that almost seemed like tall tales. People flying into the air with a punch, or energy balls straight out of local manga. Some talked about how there was trouble nearby, although the location seemed to change according to who he talked to. Some would say the local high school, others a couple businesses in town, or numerous lots and open areas around the place. Few, who swore on their most sacred oaths, said it was from a local dojo that all the trouble came from, but wouldn't elaborate further than that.
Tommorow would be spent asking questions again. He needed to know about the odd happenings in the town, preferably from a first-hand source. If he was lucky, someone would be willing to talk about the mysterious dojo mentioned to him. Maybe even find it himself.
Charlie smiled at that thought. The chances of finding both guardian and ward with a day was easy, except for this case. He would have to do old-fashioned investigating to find the guy.
An alarm went off on top of his traveling gear. entally pulling himself out of the trance, he turned and shut off the beeper before it woke anyone else up. Standing up and stretching, Charlie moved over to the phone in the corner of the room. Picking up the reciever, he made a decision, placing a call to a number well remembered. It rang three times before someone answered.
"Hello?" a voice asked on the other end.
"Its Charlie," he replied. "I have news. A potential guradian hasn't been confirmed, but the evidence of one living nearby are present. Asking for..."
"Before anything else is said, denied," a new voice interuppted. "Evidence is great, and would be accepted in any other case, but the only concrete evidence that will be approved of is locating the actual candidate. Anything but that could be duplicated, so we have to take precaustions."
Charlie frowned at this. This was going to be difficult indeed. "Any sightings?"
"We had a couple today. One ended about five hours ago and hasn't been seen since. Hasn't moved either from the region, so it shouldn't be as bad as it might be."
Late afternoon, Charlie mentally translated. It was midnght here, which meant about seven when he went missing. Most families would've had supper by then. It was nothing he could use.
"Anything else?"
"Nothing. Same orders stand until further notice. How are you hiding your weapon?" The last was asked in more retrospective tone.
The reply was more off-hand than anything else. "I'm keeping it wrapped in a cloth cover. The place is such a war zone, nobody thinks
twice of it."
Quiet laughter was the response from the other end of the phone. "That bad?" the person asked.
"Yeah. That bad." was his only reply.
-----------------------
One other being was technically awake this night, only true since it didn't actually sleep. Sleeking through a smelly alleyway in a more run-down area of Tokyo, it used its senses to search for the one which was its target. Crawling its way across the garbage heap, a lone tabby meowed and followed the thing, looking for an easy meal in the slim pickings of trash bins. Both creatures moved towards the shadows, the tabby seemingly stalking the ill-defined creature. As they left the light, a fierce growl of anger turned to fear before a yowl broke the dim silence. Silence that stretched even after the creature moved onward.
The thing moved inthe general direction of its target, inching its way in areas that it wouldn't be easily recognized in. It dropped into the sewer system at a moderately lighted traffic area, climbing its way up to a drain to see if the shadows were large enough to move in. Judging it passible, it squeezed its way through the small opening and into the welcome shadows, reforming itself back into its original shape before moving on.
Onward it went, even though it now moved only in the direction it had last felt the vibration. Tracking this target had been a pain, since it would stop vibrating at odd times. Moving around the city hadn't helped either; he had moved in the same direction the target had been after the vibration left. It thought to be closer when it continued, but not so far. Sometimes it had skirted the city limits before the target reappeared in another area in the reverse direction.
Slowly it stopped and looked around. Seeing another mancover hole, it moved silently and slipped into the cracks, changing form as it dropped below. Once again forming from the blob into a creature, it continued moving. Sewers and other places like it were its natural habitat. Light of any kind for long duration was fatal; it lived to die, but preferred taking with them someone.
Still it continued on, not knowing that it will miss its target for another night.
-----------------------
Akane wasn't up. She was sound asleep, dreaming. Her dreams were about Ranma, protecting her from some unseen assailant. Another dream was of him sitting at the dining table, looking into a glass. Occasionally, P-Chan would pop up, cuddling in her arms, or Ryoga, seemingly lost again on one of his training journeys. Oddly enough, a third person filled her mind, although she had never seen him before. He was standing in the dojo, under the small shrine, holding onto something familiar. All of them, including her pet, seemed to be in pain, as if each had a headache no aspirin could rid.
Rolling in her bed, she muttered something uncomprehendable before drifting back to sleep.
-----------------------
Even though he hadn't originally intended to be awake at this hour, Ranma had been glad for the chance. He felt he could rest now that the little puzzle that had fallen into his lap was solved, he could sleep for the rest of the night. Offering to help clean up, he had been gently pushed towards the stairs by Kasumi, saying it was nothing she couldn't handle. Giving in to her gentle ways, he had complied, partly because his mind, now in command after his stomach was satisfied, stated that he needed sleep. Yawning, he went back to the room he and his parents shared.
Only to see his father laying half-way on his futon.
Deciding it futile to push the panda over after a few atempts, Ranma grabbed his pillow and moved to the corner of the room. His headache came back as he struggled to pull that comfort away from the sleeping form.
Why was it always him, he mentally asked the universe.
-----------------------
The universe, expectively, failed to answer.
-----------------------
All I'll say is the metaphoric shit is about to hit the fan. Lots of foreshadowing, with a little of what will be the focus of the story. Took me longer to do than I expected, since I wanted the first part right the first time. More when I can.
Thanks goes out to OmegaDL50, who looked over the incomplete draft of this chapter and gave input.
Suggestions are, as always, welcome.
blue_scarf_fics@yahoo.com
by D'Fused
Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 characters are property of Rumiko Takahashi. Any resemblence to other characters or stories, unless specified, are unintentional. So be it.
Chapter 3
Headaches
Imagine, if you will, a place that is totally neutral. Neutral in the sense that there is nothing defining the area: no light source, yet not completely dark. There is no difference between the up and down, or left and right, or north and south. There is no life as it is defined in this area. No animals, plants, insects, or microorganisms roming around. If such beings had appeared, they wouldn't have lived, for this area had no scientific or natural elments to it. Temperatures don't mean a thing here, nor do those ideals humans have a need to measure in quantity and quality. For lack of a better term, this place would be the perfect ideal of the value-neutral area. Yet, while its a place where everything is as undefined as possible, it has to be somewhere to be defined as a place.
Within this place of neutrality, something exists. A round object rotates slowly, unwavering in its speed and location, although it is hard to tell as much, since such things are inmeasurable here. The object isn't physical in nature, although it has been made so in its crudest forms. Instead, it is a symbol, believed on the physical, spiritual and metaphoric levels, although some will argue its significance on the metaphysic level as well.
The symbol is easy to recognise. Although color, shape and other visual qualities are non-existent on the physical level, the symbolic level of the object holds true, for it is belief that gives it that ability. One side of the symbol is white, not the interweaving of multiple colors to make the appearance of white, but a plain, sharp white color. The other half of the figure is black, not a dark greyish color borderlining black, but a black that is so dark to actually hurt the eyes to look at, if such a vision was possible. These parts are tear-shaped, running along the edges, their points ending off with the other's curve beginning. And within these tears, a small circle of its opposite color pierce their middle, creating an imperfection, if a symbol could be said to have an imperfection.
For humans, this symbol is known to represent the Chinese philosophies of Ying and Yang. Outside of the human manifestation, its true name is the Universal Gear.
Its representation, that all is connected and has a relationship with everything, even its opposite, remains the same. Its a simple, yet complex, concept that covers all aspects of life: instinct and reason, chaos and order, space and matter, life and death, good and evil, male and female, and more than can be put into such simple terms. In every case, the two parts compromise their relationship - Both different, yet the same. Seperated, yet together. Driven apart, yet attracted to each other. Imperfect, yet perfection incarnate.
In balance, yet paradoxal in that balance.
Now where is this place?. Its a place where symbols exists, not on a physical plane, but on a plane that cannot be reached by human manipulation, one where everthing can't be clearly defined by physical human senses. In other words, a realm outside the pysical realm.
Yet, if it is just a symbol, why would it rotate? Wouldn't it need only to exist and be stationary, since it is a symbol of an idea?
Its not a mistake in reason, since, if human eyes could see the symbol within the place, and could actually break down the area into its individual parts, they could tell that the symbol is rotating. But why would a symbol rotate in such a matter, if its just an ideal?
To answer that question, we should look at the essence of the philosophy of the symbol itself. In the best mortal comprehension of the philosophy, there is always two forces, working constantly, interacting and complementing each other. And since all that exists has a balance to it, so does even a symbol of balance need its counterpart.
Thus the question has an answer.. The Universal Gear itself has a counterpart, one that is its balance, so to speak. And that counterpart is...
-----------------------
Ranma was, among anything, his father's son, so he did inherit some of Genma's habits and characteristics. One of those both had in common was the ability to sleep through an earthquake, firestorm, and tornado without even budging. And, like his father, he would be content to stay asleep, as long as something didn't directly make contact with him while he slept through the natural disasters,
So, when Ranma was rudely awaken by an offending elbow of his father, once again in panda form, the teenage protege was, to say the least, not happy. He was, in fact, pretty steamed at the moment, although a pounding headache had its share in the equation too Giving his father a frown, he sat up and blinked his eyes a couple times before yawning. Finally he laid back down after giving his father another glance, waiting to see if another limb would come his way. As he waited, his gaze changed slowly from the side to the ceiling, and his thoughts moved from panda rugs to the weird dream he had before his rude awakening.
Oh, sure, he has had troubling dreams before; the one about Jusenkyo drying up wasn't the worse one that came to his mind off-hand. In fact, Ranma was willing to admit to himself, most of it didn't make much sense to him, especially what seemed to be high philosophy, something he never had thought much of. The Ying-Yang symbol he was familiar with, since he had come across it occasionally while in China, although knowing what it meant was somewhat different. But that wasn't what was troubling him. No, what was troubling him was that it seemed an outside source was sending him the dream, and was narrating the dream as it unfolded. High philosophy about Chinese ideals were never part of his education.
Mentally, he snorted at the last thought. Anything not related to martial arts were never part of his education while growing up. It was another thing to add to an already long list.
Whatever that dream had been for, it hadn't been from his own subconcious, he decided. This, of course, brought up the question of how and where it had come from, and why this night, of all nights.
Ranma didn't have any time to spend thinking any further as his father casually pushed him off the futon and onto the floor. After all attempts to move him back had failed, Ranma silently cursed his cursed pop and opened the door, making his way downstairs.
-----------------------
Ranma wasn't the only person up at this time of the day, or night, depending on your view. Kasumi was up as well, in front of the stove in the kitchen, waiting for the pot to slowly heat up. Although she didn't come close to the Satomoe ability to sleep through almost anything, she was still a sound sleeper. It wasn't like her to wake up in the middle of the night without probable cause, yet, tonight, she had came awake a few minutes ago for no apparent reason. Finding herself unable to fall asleep again, Kasumi did the one thing she knew would help; she had gone downstairs for some warm milk. Understanably, being half-asleep but still knowledgable of her houseguest's sleeping habits, it was a surprise for her to see Ranma also appear in the kitchen.
Without seeing her, Akane's fiance went to the fridge and opened the door, resorting back to another trait both father and son had in common; aquiring huge amounts of substance whenever possible. Yet, in respect to the usual marvel breakfast would be, Ranma only planned to have a light snack before going back to bed.
"Let's see...leftover pork buns...bread...lettuce...rice...cheese..." Ranma said, holding the food with one hand extended outward as he threw bowls and plates with food onto his left. "...boiled eggs...ugh, three boxes of Akane's mystery disaster. Must be tomorrow's lunch. Better throw them away quickly."
Giving the bluish-looking substances a toss into the trash, Ranma turned and closed the fridge, finally registering the eldest Tendo's presence. She, in return, was paying more attention to the food in Ranma's hands as he moved towards the table, moving quickly while his 'snack' wobbled but stayed upright in its little tower. Giving the food a toss, Ranma turned to her as the food landed on the table, giving her a surprise as none fell on the floor and all of it stood upright.
Double-blinking and quietly saying 'oh my' at the performance, Kasumi turned to Ranma, then, finally remembering why she was in the kitchen, quickly turned to the now-boiling pot of milk. Quickly she took the pot off the hot element and onto another to let it cool. Knowing off-hand that it would be too hot to drink for a bit, she once again turned towards Ranma, who was looking slightly worried.
I bet she hasn't done that since she started learning, Ranma thought to himself with crystal clear understanding. She had been preoccupied. By...me?
"Couldn't sleep?" he hesitantly asked.
Kasumi gave Ranma one of her affectionate, motherly smiles.
"Oh, no," she replied. "I just woke up a few minutes ago, for no reason. I decided to warm some milk up, so I could go to sleep." Kasumi frowned for a second, then asked "What about you, Ranma?"
Ranma's only reply was muttered, although the words 'sleeping', 'pop' and 'zoo' were said in the same breath. Kasumi, although seemingly oblivious to the happenings in the house, understood enough of the problems between him and his father to realise Mr. Satome had done something while Ranma was sleeping to wake him up.
Sighing, Kasumi knew neither would be going to bed soon, and decided to make the best of the situation. After taking a quick inventory of the foodstuffs on the table, Kasumi moved over to the cupboards, taking out a couple plates and a knife. Since she was going to be waiting for her milk too, she might as well join Ranma.
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For the first few minutes, neither spoke as they consumed their food, Kasumi nibbling on her snack in her delicate way, while Ranma chewing at a respectful pace of one not wanting to be as rude not to taste what was caefully prepared. Without the need to batle over the culinary delights, Ranma was finding himself enjoying the food. Then, as the food dwindled down, both began to dwell on their own thoughts. Kasumi's attention was split between the pot and Ranma, with Ranma making up most of her attention. From past experience, Kasumi knew he was a nice boy, and that he cared for Akane. Oh, sure he did say the wrong thing sometimes, and Akane was alittle tempermental, but they got along well.
Glancing at him at the corner of her eyes, she could tell something was bothering him, but what was exactly wrong wasn't clear. It could be something he and his father were at ends about, but it didn't sound right. Kasumi knew Ranma would mutter darkly whenever he was angry at his father, just as he did when she had asked if he couldn't sleep. At the moment, all he was doing was looking at his empty plate, picking individual rice off the otherwise-clean plate. No, clearly it wasn't something to do with his father.
Ranma, for his part, was indeed distracted, and wasn't thinking of his father in any sort of light. He was trying to remember the strange dream and everything that was said, specifically about how there was balance in everything. From what he could understand, everything that was said made sense to him. If there wasn't balance in everything, there would be nothing to act as a counterweight or to keep everything in check. That he understood. He thought he understood, at least.
His true problem was applying the theory to a situation that he could understand. Naturally, his first thought was to apply it to martial arts.
The night's headache, forgotten while sitting down to eat, slowly made its presence known once again as Ranma recalled every battle he could, looking for an example that would fit this scenario. Comparing it to how he had cancelled Ryoga's Shish Houkodan with his own attack wasn't correct, since they had merely cancelled each other's blast. Nor was the idea of the Umisenken and Yamasenken perfect; they were opposing techniques, but couldn't work together as one.
Movement broke his line of thought as Kasumi stood up and entered the kitchen. He blinked as the drapes stopped moving, and tried to think what was in the kitchen that was so important. Of course. The milk.
After a suitable time elapse, Kasumi returned to the table with two glasses of milk, both warm, but not too hot. Without asking she placed one glass in front of Ranma, sitting back where she had originally sat and sipped on the warm liquid. Ranma only eyed the glass; she had had no idea he would have been up, yet there was enough milk for two full glasses.
Reading the unasked question in his face, Kasumi simply answered, "The milk was still too hot. I added more milk from the fridge to cool it a bit." She smiled as she handed him one. "I'd thought you'd like some too."
A smile slowly grew on his face. Of course, it made perfect sense now.
"Ranma?"
The person in question blinked twice as he focused on the voice talking, seeing a confused Kasumi looking at him, one glasse of warm
milk in her hands and her smile replaced by slight worry. He convinced her that all was alright by picking up his glass and drinking it.
"Kasumi?"
"Yes?"
"Thanks."
Kasumi's smile grew wider when he had thanked her. It was nice to see him being so polite.
"No problem. Warm milk is good for you."
Ranma's smile dropped for a brief second, but it quickly came back. "Yeah, thanks for the that too."
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Across Nerima, a certain figure walks along the deserted, dark street, not taking much notice of his surroundings. Some would say, for a martial artist, that such behavior is dangerous, since knowing one's surroundings is crucial while fighting, and fighting isn't neccessarily always in tournaments or dojos. Others would say that such behavior is that of one over-confident in his abilities, which is also a dangerous flaw.
But it wasn't because he was ignorant of his surroundings or over-confident. No, truth be told, the reason he didn't take notice was that he didn't have a clue where he was to begin with.
Almost to confirm everyone's caculable guesses of who this person is, he suddenly let out one of his favorite cries into the night in a moment of frustration.
"WHERE AM I NOW????!!!!"
Not recieving any rely, Ryoga sighed and sat down on the side of the road. Not normally the nocturnal type of person, he nonetheless had traveled the whole night, although he hadn't appreciatively taken stock of where he had ended up. He had passed evidence of his location during the night while in speculation, eyes down on the road and vaguely in front of him. So it might be understandable if he had missed the Cat Cafe, closed for the night. It might also be understood if had missed the sign stating Uchan's, since he only had occasional association with one of several girls with a claim on Ranma. The same could be said when he passed Furiken High or the Kuno manor, as well as several places where he and Ranma had battled, from the vacant lots and school field, to the zoo and parks.
What was interesting, and surprising, was his unintentional passing of the Tendo Dojo without him noticing it. Those who knew him best would expect one of several reactions, depending if he was in human form or in his cursed state at the moment. However, he didn't look to the side and recognise the wall surrounding the estate, nor the signs that proclaimed a familiar place of learning. Somewhere, fate had a quirk of curiosity, since a scenario like this had never played out before. To fulfill this curiosity, and to see if it was a fluke, Ryoga was led around by his lack of direction around the Tendo area and near where his rival sat awake a few times before fate conceded the point; Ryoga Hibiki was distracted.
As what was distracting the nominal Lost Boy was not the first idea that might come to mind. Nor the second. Nor the third. Surprisingly, it would be close to the last thing you would guess. But that would be the case, since its pointless to keep on guessing after finding the answer. No, the thought that distracted Ryoga to the point that he was oblivious of his surroundings was that this would be the night of the dream.
Ever since he had followed Ranma to Nerima, Ryoga had had one dream that frequently occured while he slept. It wasn't a bad dream; far from it. Nor was this dream one which stirred uncomfortable feelings within himself. This dream seemed like any other dream, except for the fact that it occured on a regular basis. It wasn't on a sparadic basis, where he might dream it two days in a row, then go a week or a month before it came again, but a fixed, regular basis that was almost like clockwork. This particular dream would happen once every two weeks, never changing its pattern once in the years he has had them.
Only one discovery over the years had made it bearable. If he chose to stay awake through the nigfht, he wouldn't have the dream. It wouldn't appear the next night, or appear in a waking dream the next day, but would wait the full two weeks before reappearing. It wa a consoltation that he was willing to put up with, although the choice was sometimes out of his hands.
Ryoga sighed and dropped his head. He never understood the dream, how something called the Universal Gear would be so important to him. And the rest made no sense either.
Looking to the sky, he saw the sky starting to change to lighter shades of blue. It was drawing time to when he could set up camp for the night and rest awhile, since the dream never started after a certain time. Another discovery he had made was that the dream only happened within a certain timeframe. He had never asked why this was, as if it had a limited time to act every night. He didn't care to knoow more than how to stop the dream. He never had wanted it to start, and wouldn't miss it when it ended.
Taking a look around, he noticed that his wanderings had taken him into a vacant lot. Ryoga shrugged; it was a good as any other place to set camp, and he doubted anyone wouldn't mind him resting for a few hours before going on.
In relative short time, with the sun rising in the horizon, the Lost Boy had settled in to nap for a few hours. He'd figure things out later.
-----------------------
There weren't many others awake that night, if you discounted those working night-shift jobs or seeking companionship of another. Of those who don't apply to these categories, there were only few that were truly noteworthy to mention.
Charlie was another party awake at this time of day, or night, if you wish to call it such. Unlike Ranma, who had raided the fridge as an excuse to make sense of his world, or Ryoga, who had gotten lost while speculating about his dreams, Charlie had spent it in meditation. His epee was laying in front of him in a position that was akin to that which the samurai had lain their weapons while in meditation; an ironic twist that some might have found amusing. The amusement wouldn't last if those amused knew the blade and weilder could be unsheathed in less than a moment's notice, as could the samurai of old do while meditating also.
Charlie was focusing within, letting his mind flow through his body, analyzing its condition and adjusting the blood and spirit flows for healing any problems internally. It had become a custom for him, everyday, to spend time focused within, mainly to check the condition of his body. It was a time to physically relax, and it was a good excuse sometimes if he had to think about things when he was by himself.
Within an hour of checking into the hotel and asking a few careful questions about the damage to the area, he had confirmed that interesting people did live in the area. What made them so interesting was that most of the damage was caused by fights or challenges by martial artists, most of them of the age that the usual ssigns would appear. Many told stories of that almost seemed like tall tales. People flying into the air with a punch, or energy balls straight out of local manga. Some talked about how there was trouble nearby, although the location seemed to change according to who he talked to. Some would say the local high school, others a couple businesses in town, or numerous lots and open areas around the place. Few, who swore on their most sacred oaths, said it was from a local dojo that all the trouble came from, but wouldn't elaborate further than that.
Tommorow would be spent asking questions again. He needed to know about the odd happenings in the town, preferably from a first-hand source. If he was lucky, someone would be willing to talk about the mysterious dojo mentioned to him. Maybe even find it himself.
Charlie smiled at that thought. The chances of finding both guardian and ward with a day was easy, except for this case. He would have to do old-fashioned investigating to find the guy.
An alarm went off on top of his traveling gear. entally pulling himself out of the trance, he turned and shut off the beeper before it woke anyone else up. Standing up and stretching, Charlie moved over to the phone in the corner of the room. Picking up the reciever, he made a decision, placing a call to a number well remembered. It rang three times before someone answered.
"Hello?" a voice asked on the other end.
"Its Charlie," he replied. "I have news. A potential guradian hasn't been confirmed, but the evidence of one living nearby are present. Asking for..."
"Before anything else is said, denied," a new voice interuppted. "Evidence is great, and would be accepted in any other case, but the only concrete evidence that will be approved of is locating the actual candidate. Anything but that could be duplicated, so we have to take precaustions."
Charlie frowned at this. This was going to be difficult indeed. "Any sightings?"
"We had a couple today. One ended about five hours ago and hasn't been seen since. Hasn't moved either from the region, so it shouldn't be as bad as it might be."
Late afternoon, Charlie mentally translated. It was midnght here, which meant about seven when he went missing. Most families would've had supper by then. It was nothing he could use.
"Anything else?"
"Nothing. Same orders stand until further notice. How are you hiding your weapon?" The last was asked in more retrospective tone.
The reply was more off-hand than anything else. "I'm keeping it wrapped in a cloth cover. The place is such a war zone, nobody thinks
twice of it."
Quiet laughter was the response from the other end of the phone. "That bad?" the person asked.
"Yeah. That bad." was his only reply.
-----------------------
One other being was technically awake this night, only true since it didn't actually sleep. Sleeking through a smelly alleyway in a more run-down area of Tokyo, it used its senses to search for the one which was its target. Crawling its way across the garbage heap, a lone tabby meowed and followed the thing, looking for an easy meal in the slim pickings of trash bins. Both creatures moved towards the shadows, the tabby seemingly stalking the ill-defined creature. As they left the light, a fierce growl of anger turned to fear before a yowl broke the dim silence. Silence that stretched even after the creature moved onward.
The thing moved inthe general direction of its target, inching its way in areas that it wouldn't be easily recognized in. It dropped into the sewer system at a moderately lighted traffic area, climbing its way up to a drain to see if the shadows were large enough to move in. Judging it passible, it squeezed its way through the small opening and into the welcome shadows, reforming itself back into its original shape before moving on.
Onward it went, even though it now moved only in the direction it had last felt the vibration. Tracking this target had been a pain, since it would stop vibrating at odd times. Moving around the city hadn't helped either; he had moved in the same direction the target had been after the vibration left. It thought to be closer when it continued, but not so far. Sometimes it had skirted the city limits before the target reappeared in another area in the reverse direction.
Slowly it stopped and looked around. Seeing another mancover hole, it moved silently and slipped into the cracks, changing form as it dropped below. Once again forming from the blob into a creature, it continued moving. Sewers and other places like it were its natural habitat. Light of any kind for long duration was fatal; it lived to die, but preferred taking with them someone.
Still it continued on, not knowing that it will miss its target for another night.
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Akane wasn't up. She was sound asleep, dreaming. Her dreams were about Ranma, protecting her from some unseen assailant. Another dream was of him sitting at the dining table, looking into a glass. Occasionally, P-Chan would pop up, cuddling in her arms, or Ryoga, seemingly lost again on one of his training journeys. Oddly enough, a third person filled her mind, although she had never seen him before. He was standing in the dojo, under the small shrine, holding onto something familiar. All of them, including her pet, seemed to be in pain, as if each had a headache no aspirin could rid.
Rolling in her bed, she muttered something uncomprehendable before drifting back to sleep.
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Even though he hadn't originally intended to be awake at this hour, Ranma had been glad for the chance. He felt he could rest now that the little puzzle that had fallen into his lap was solved, he could sleep for the rest of the night. Offering to help clean up, he had been gently pushed towards the stairs by Kasumi, saying it was nothing she couldn't handle. Giving in to her gentle ways, he had complied, partly because his mind, now in command after his stomach was satisfied, stated that he needed sleep. Yawning, he went back to the room he and his parents shared.
Only to see his father laying half-way on his futon.
Deciding it futile to push the panda over after a few atempts, Ranma grabbed his pillow and moved to the corner of the room. His headache came back as he struggled to pull that comfort away from the sleeping form.
Why was it always him, he mentally asked the universe.
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The universe, expectively, failed to answer.
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All I'll say is the metaphoric shit is about to hit the fan. Lots of foreshadowing, with a little of what will be the focus of the story. Took me longer to do than I expected, since I wanted the first part right the first time. More when I can.
Thanks goes out to OmegaDL50, who looked over the incomplete draft of this chapter and gave input.
Suggestions are, as always, welcome.
blue_scarf_fics@yahoo.com