AN ominous dog howled and Tatewaki Kuno stood a top the hill, looking down at the suburbs cast only in shades of grey. It was only several minutes 'till midnight, but the Kuno knew no time of day. Was not the hours passing measured only in deeds and weight of their splendor?
A cool breeze blew through the black cloak he wore draped across his shoulders, obscuring his trim form beneath the deep folds.
Slowly Tatewaki Kuno began his descent down upon the suburban town, a soft lilt to his step, and twist to his lips. He was a demon hunter on a mission, prepared to enslave the Saotome fiend for his transgression upon his noble personage and two true loves. It was a midnight dark, and dreary, but though it weighted heavily upon him, he continued on warily. Then perhaps he could find rest, as he hadn't slept in many days. Akane and his pigtailed goddess would be sleeping beside him, to the victor go the spoils ne?
Deep within the grips of insanity, the boy of seventeen years drew his wooden sword. Not quite a man, but soon to be, once a sword of steel was fastened to his side. 'Till that day he'd be a boy, lost in the thick, dark fantasy, a never-ending nightmare, spun by his dreams in the waking reality.
Ranma Saotome sat up as the howl pierced the air, disturbing the midnight serenity. He sat there breathing heavy, in the darkness, unable to see. Foreboding clutching at his racing heart, the Saotome boy lay back down, "just a dream" said he. But unbeknownst, a raving madman was already crossing the shallow ravine, hell bent on revenge for his sinister deeds.
His eyes drifted heavily closed, mind wandering back to the dreams, unheeding gentle footsteps resounding through the upstairs hall.
Kasumi Tendou set the kettle upon the old stoves top, gently. Her sixth sense forewarning of a mid-night visitor. Yawning slightly, and stretching weary arms high above her head, the sleepy girl marveled at the warmth from the simmering kettles steam.
She'd been reading by lamplight in her room, lying a top the covers, when the tingling foreboding had come to visit her yet again. And though she was slightly frightened, the tremor in her movements, added a decided excitement. As the wonderful hostess she was, this pending guest would be accommodated, despite the midnight fuss.
Kuno with mounting frustration brought the backside of his hand across the door. Rapping gently, then louder and louder still. 'Till the door drew open and there stood Kasumi Tendou in a floral apron.
"Where is Ranma Saotome?" he questioned determinedly, all politeness conveniently forgotten.
"Sleeping up stairs, please come in for some tea Ta-chan."
The childhood name stirring bizarre sensations in the boy not quite a man, "I'm afraid I came on business, but who am I to pass on such a gracious offer, from such a beautiful hostess?" Tatewaki proclaimed.
Kasumi blushed profusely, allowing the schools star kendoist in. "It's been a long time Ta-chan" Kasumi said, retreating to the kitchen, and Kuno sitting before the low lying table.
"A long time indeed" he repeated with bewilderment that she still seemed able to reach within his mind and pull forth his thoughts to stare at in the light of her lovely brown eyes. Eyes so thoughtful and considerate.
She returned quietly, modestly placing the silver tray of tea upon the tables empty surface. Kuno found himself sipping tree from the silver tray, cup warming his cold hands, and both sanity and rage temporarily held at bay.
Maybe tomorrow he'd slay that foul demon, but his hostesses smile was too captivating. Kasumi pursed her lips in melancholy thought, "was it the Pigtailed Goddess, or Ranma or Akane that brought you to our door?"
Tatewaki sheepishly looked over the steaming cup of tea, held to his lips. "Neither and all."
"But which one DO you adore more?" Kasumi asked, but just as suddenly as the words left her mouth she regretted them, for she saw the bare pain shining in her childhood friends eyes. She was not so vain as to have forgotten the days when she was Kuno's pure hearted goddess, the object of his admiration and misplaced affection.
And so the conversation bled late into the night, Kuno telling tales of the lonely family mansion, the insanity of his sister and father, and the burning desire to disappear far away. Kasumi listened to the woes somehow cast in a modest light by the young poet. Neither shame nor sorrow, but words from his fickle, unyielding heart. A true romantic if ever there were, and so it was that Kasumi offered him a place to stay within her home.
Sadly he declined and stood once more, a put upon smile masking his face. And sadly he turned back to the cold barren night, he whispered softly "another time" before drifting far away on the midnight breeze. Kasumi still standing at the forlorn door, with nothing left to say, and slowly she too turned away.