A/N: Yep, after three months, I'm back. Many thanks for the kind reviews! (: In any case, I've decided that I will add in Inuyasha characters; but they will play very minor roles because I would rather focus on developing the Ranma characters.
It is entirely possible that I might add in a strong Miroku/Sango pairing later in the story, however. I have a soft spot for them heh. (:
Enjoy the chapter. Comments and criticism welcome!
Kismet
A Ranma ½ Alternate Universe
By Andrina
Chapter 2
"Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice;
it is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved."
-William Jennings Bryan
The night air was crisp and cold, smarting against the shallow cut on her cheek. Yet, the slender well-built woman paid the cut no attention as she strode forward through the thick forestry. Upon closer observation, one would notice that the young woman's features were pulled into an irate scowl, and that she sported several other wounds all over body.
But perhaps the most puzzling thing about this woman was that she carried a huge weapon of sorts on her back, safely strapped to her tight-fitting blue-gray attire. One might call it a spatula, and indeed it was a giant spatula, but what could anyone do with a huge spatula in a fight?
Well, in the hands of this slim brunette, you could do a lot of harm.
It seemed that her anger was getting to her now, for as she encountered a clump of low-hanging vines, she let out an annoyed growl, even going as far as to make an obscene gesture at the vines in vain. Most would have gasped at her behavior; after all, how many young women in the entire kingdom prance around flashing obscene hand gestures, even if they happened to be alone in the forest as night? Even the normal, everyday, peasant girls had more social upbringing than to display this sort of behavior.
But this young woman wasn't a normal, everyday, peasant girl.
Instead of backing down on her gesture, the young woman drew a short knife from her belt. With a growl, she began hacking away at the vines that obstructed her in a most unladylike manner. She continued at this for several long moments, all the while muttering murderously under her breath as she hacked. In fact, if anyone had been close enough, within hearing distance, they would have heard her muttering something that went like this:
"…jackass! And just after I told him to source out the place without getting lost… and an ambush! What a load of bull… ought to smack him hard for this… complete waste of resources…"
Then, abruptly, she froze.
In one swift motion, the brown-haired woman slid the knife back into her belt and drew her spatula instead. The annoyance on her features melted away almost instantly, replaced by a look of calm calculating alertness. It was the same look of concentration that she employed to intimidate her opponents in a battle, and she was often proud to say that it worked like a charm.
Except, in this case, her 'opponent' appeared to be unresponsive.
Seconds later, she backed away from the unruly clump of bushes, eyes wide in disbelief. She had expected everything from a hidden assassin to a frightened rabbit, yet nothing could have prepared her for the sight.
There was an unconscious young woman of her age sprawled uncomfortably within the forestry. Despite the darkness, the brunette could make out what appeared to be long inky blue-black hair, and delicate soft features. There was nothing all that fascinating about this woman, although it was to be said that she was quite pretty. But then again, there were a lot of pretty women in this Kingdom. The young woman would have easily passed her off as another peasant girl who had fainted in the forest while on her way to gather some herbs.
But what caught her attention were the clothes the unconscious girl was wearing.
Pristine white robes adorned the girl's slim figure, spread out carelessly over the forest floor. The material seemed to glow in the darkness, and she could see cords of gold at her waist and neck.
She stepped back, her lips pressed together tightly in worry.
This girl was a Maiden.
A Maiden who, judging by her regular breathing, was still alive.
A Maiden who should rightfully have been captured or dead ever since the attack launched by the king on the temple several days ago.
Oh no.
For several long moments, she stared at the unmoving girl, wondering which course of action she should take. She could hurry back to headquarters and get back to her original task of skinning Ryoga alive for giving away their position to the king's soldiers, but that would mean leaving the girl to die.
On the other hand... she could stop and bring the girl along. Ukyo bit her lip. That would mean even more liabilities for their cause. King Dasier had been particularly harsh this time - from what she had heard, he had spared no effort in placing notices offering huge sums of money to those who brought in any Maidens his armies might have missed. Death was undoubtedly the penalty for harboring a Maiden.
A split second later, Ukyo sighed, starting towards the girl. In truth, though, there really was no decision here. Bending down, she lifted the girl up carefully, grunting a little with the effort. Granted, the comatose young woman was not that heavy, but still, it had been a long day and she was tired. Shifting her weight, she heaved her into a piggyback of sorts and began to walk on. In response to the movement, the woman let out a soft moan and slumped back down heavily. Ukyo sighed, mentally prepping herself for the rest of the long walk back to headquarters.
She was sure Ranma wouldn't mind an extra Maiden or two in the village.
"…You didn't."
Ukyo stretched, flexing her muscles absent-mindedly. The walk back home had been long, and she wasn't feeling up to arguing with Ranma. "I'm afraid I did, hon," she quipped cheerfully. "We'll just have to put her up in one of the other cottages for the night. She's too sick to go anywhere else."
She swept her gaze quickly over the tall young man standing by the fireplace. Dark-haired with a physique to die for, Saotome Ranma was not someone to mess with. At the moment, however, their leader was rubbing his temple in exasperation. "But damn it, Ukyo, don't you understand how this might be bringing more attention to this village?" he said angrily.
They were in a village somewhere in Nerima's remote south. Few ever came to this part of the kingdom, and the inhabitants of the village were simple people who would spend most of their lives quietly farming and tending to their own needs. A few months ago, however, a large number of people had quietly trickled into the village and made it a temporary home. They lived on the outskirts of the village, coming and going at odd times. They were unfailingly polite and usually quite reserved, but the glint of dirty weapons slung across their backs gave away their identities.
Rebels had arrived.
The villagers were somewhat wary at first, but grew to welcome them. They did not interfere in the rebels' activities, but they helped when they could. After all, areas as rural as this one tended to have suffered the most under Dasier's rule. A man named Ranma Saotome was said to be leading them. How he looked like, where he came, what were his motives… well, those were questions to be answered in another time. In a few months, the villagers knew, the rebels would trickle silently away from the village they currently resided in, as quietly as they had come, in search of a new temporary home. They would leave in small groups, in the oddest times of the days, and one day the villagers would wake up to find nothing more than empty clean houses and a heap of thank-you gifts at the door of the Headman.
But at present, the brown-haired woman ignored their leader, being used to his ways. Years of working together had earned her the pigtailed young man's close friendship. "Be sensible, Ranma," she cut in, turning serious as she adjusted the weight of her spatula. "She is a Maiden. Where else can she go?"
Ranma sighed. "That's precisely what I'm getting at," he said firmly. "She's a Maiden. She can't fight, or scout, or even defend herself. Plus, people all over the Kingdom will be fighting among themselves to turn her in. We're putting ourselves in danger by letting her stay. She's a liability and she has to go." He paused then, turning a troubled gaze out the window. "The soldiers are getting suspicious of this village already. Besides, we ain't some kind of a charity organization. This is serious stuff, Ukyo, I thought you, of all people, would know that."
"Ranma…" Ukyo murmured. It looked like he was really serious about this. Well, she would have a way. Putting a note of persuasion into her voice, she strode over to face him directly. "Come on," she said. "Stop being unreasonable. There are other talents a person can have, you dolt. Just let her stay the night, will you?" Seeing his look of frustration, she continued hastily. "Think of it this way, we're defying Dasier. She's unconscious anyway; we can't just turn her onto the streets."
He was wavering, she could see. Ukyo drew her trump card. With an earnest smile, she added, "Please?"
Ranma held out for a total of five seconds before he crumpled. "Damn it , all right," he muttered gruffly. "But just one night."
"Thanks," Ukyo called, leaving his room. "Oh yeah, have you seen Ryoga?"
"Ryoga?" Ranma blinked, and in the orange glow of the fire in his room, Ukyo suddenly realized how much her friend had grown over the years. When they first started out, it had just been the two of them. Ranma was an impatient rash boy of fifteen, angry and coarse-mouthed, while she was his adoring right-hand man.
That was right, she remembered having the biggest crush on the handsome boy.
Yet, over the period of four rocky years, he had become the confident quick-thinking leader of them all. What had started out as an angry, almost ridiculous two-man rebellion had grown considerably in size, blooming into a stealthy network all over the Kingdom. And all this time, Ranma had grown. Of course, he was still as coarse-mouthed and strong-willed as ever, but hey, one couldn't wish for miracles, could they? Ukyo had stayed even after her crush had waned, simply glad that she had such a brave determined friend.
"Ukyo? Hey Ukyo, are you listening to me?" She started at his voice, then grinned sheepishly to him. Ranma snorted. "I said, Ryoga's at the village baths. Say, what're ya looking for him for?"
To skin him alive. "Nothing, much, just wanted to say hi," Ukyo smiled sweetly.
Across the village, Ryoga's eye began to twitch incessantly. He shivered.
"Oh." Ranma seemed to think about this for a moment, then: "Hey, could you bring up the scouting disaster to him? You will be firm with him, won't you?" Translation: Skin him alive for me, if you would be so kind.
Ukyo's grin stretched. "Oh, I'll be nice to him. Ryoga can be such a jackass." Translation: Don't worry, I'll skin him alive then chop him up and feed him to the field mice.
Ranma smiled. "Right. See ya in the morning then." Translation: Leave his head intact and bring it back to me so I can carve it up myself.
Ukyo nodded, setting off towards the village baths at a leisurely pace. "Goodnight, Ran-chan." Translation: Gladly.
The door fell shut gently, and Ranma gave a snort. "There goes Ryoga," he muttered sarcastically, grinning slightly. Dropping into his seat by the fireplace, he drew in a deep breath and brought his hand up to massage his temple.
The day had been long.
First Ryoga had screwed up the scouting, eliminating the possibility of them stealing supplies from an army store several miles away anytime soon, then Ukyo had come and dragged a sick comatose girl back into the village. Things had been difficult lately for them - the king seemed to be on the prowl for something, sending his armies crawling all over the lands, and they had no choice but to lay low. Ranma had found out very early on the consequences of doing otherwise, and he had the scar to prove it. Being a rebel might seem almost romantic with the excitement it promised, but there was danger in it all. There was pure solid cold danger involved in this business, and he would be a fool to forget that.
He never forgot the first time he lost a man.
He had been sixteen, a mere boy really, and the organisation was just more or less beginning to shape up. The kid who had come along for the ride was slightly younger than him: a kitchen boy who had escaped from one of those pompous lords' kitchens. Up till this very day, he couldn't, for the life of him, remember what exactly had happened, but he did know that what had begun as a simple routine trip to steal supplies from one of the various military stores around the kingdom had backfired badly. They had been spotted just as they made their escape, and amidst the chaos of pursuit, an arrow found its mark right in the kid's chest.
He remembered tearing through the forest, his lungs burning as he struggled to drag that boy along. At some point they had crashed into some bushes, and all Ranma could dream about in the months after the incident was the terrified expression on the boy's face. He remembered holding that kid as he thrashed wildly, trying his best to stem the red that soaked the tunic where the arrow had struck. Then the boy stilled, and that was it.
Later, when the fight had subsided, Ukyo helped to bury the boy under a large pine tree. They bowed in respect, mumbling prayers, and then Ukyo turned to him, eyes sad: "I'm sorry, Ranma," she had said quietly. "But it's not your fault."
He hadn't said anything. But from that day onwards, he made sure he taught every new single recruit the Art.
He stopped suddenly, opening his eyes. The fire was still burning, yet Ranma had never felt more troubled. It was as though something was hovering at the back of his mind, trying to warn him, but for the life of him he could not pull it out into the open.
Why had he even started out on this path?
He snorted almost as soon as the question appeared in his mind. Stupid. He knew why he started.
That was when Ranma got to his feet, unwilling to think anymore about the subject.
Well, he guessed he'd better take a look at that sick unconscious Maiden Ukyo kept talking about. He had made it a rule to take a personal look at every single person brought into his camp, and if this girl was going to be living off them for a while, it was enough to ensure that he check her out properly to make sure she wasn't some kind of spy or threat to them.
Stepping out of his makeshift house, he began padding down the village path casually. The night air was cold; he reckoned it was already past the witching hour. Navigating his way past several houses, he made his way to one of the smaller ones on his right, stopping to rap softly on the door.
Immediately the door opened and a slim young woman peeked out. Seeing Ranma, she straightened and bowed slightly. "Saotome," she greeted quietly. "Have you come for…?"
Ranma nodded in response, absent-mindedly tugging at his pigtail. The woman was one of the orphans from another village who had decided to join the organisation when they had stopped by. From what he remembered, her whole village had been destroyed by bandits, and she was the lone bloody survivor. She was seemingly slender and weak, yet when he saw her in action against looters trying to steal from the dead, he had nodded approvingly at the potential. She joined them days afterwards, a quiet serious girl who had never really seemed to get over the death of her family.
"She's asleep, and very weak," the woman commented quietly. "I'll be outside then."
"Thanks, Sango," Ranma answered, stepping past the young woman. She nodded once, and then took a step soundlessly into the night. He paused to gaze at her briefly; that Sango woman was a sad one. Shrugging, he stepped deeper into the small one-room makeshift house, moving over to the still form that lay on one of the two makeshift beds.
Then he paused.
She was a slender young woman, no more than a girl, really. He would put her between the ages of sixteen to twenty, and she couldn't possibly be older than him. Long blue-black hair fanned out around her sleeping form, wisps landing softly on her pale smooth cheeks and all the time she breathed in and out deeply. She was quite pretty, he thought grudgingly as he examined her, but of little use to the rebels. She didn't have the look of a martial artist at all, he found himself thinking, although that was to be expected. After all, didn't Maidens prance around in the mountains and pick herbs or something? She was probably one of those demure types who fainted at the sight of centipedes and spoke in equally soft demure tones.
Sango had put her into simple peasant clothes, although he caught sight of glowing, if a little soiled, robes of white folding neatly in a corner. On top that little white pile were several cords of varying thickness, as well as several folded pieces of parchment.
On a whim, Ranma swiped one of the parchments and opened it carelessly, scanning through briefly. It was nothing extraordinary, just a parchment with a few painstakingly detailed sketches of some sort of plant. Yep, herb-lovers. Tree-huggers too, he bet. With a snort, he tossed the parchment back to the rest, turning his attention to the dozing young woman.
She would have to go. Ukyo might complain, but he could always tune her out. Ranma turned to leave, satisfied and already looking forward to some rest.
That was when a choked cry sounded from the girl. Ranma whirled around suddenly, taking in the eerie bluish light that had enveloped the sleeping girl's form. Then all hell broke loose.
Akane felt as though someone had pushed her face into a huge thick wad of cotton while she struggled in vain to breathe.
For a moment everything seemed to turn hot and red, and she gasped, fighting instinctively. She was choking and choking and if she didn't do something she was going to die and oh gods she couldn't breathe why couldn't she breathe and things were grabbing at her hands even as she tried so hard to press them to her throat and—
"Fuck, wake up, lady!"
As abruptly as that unfamiliar urgent male voice cut into the red haze that was choking her, she felt herself being yanked forward, out of the red and into frightening crisp blue. She gasped then, sucking in a breath so deep that she started to cough, her shoulders shaking madly.
Then the red around the edges of her vision faded and she was left staring wide-eyed at the tense gaze of an unfamiliar young man.
"Saotome!"
Ranma glanced up fractionally, just in time to see an apprehensive Sango burst into the room. The young woman's gaze flicked quickly to him, then to the coughing and shaking girl who was now gripping the sheets in blind white-knuckled terror. Immediately Sango stepped forward, schooling her features into a kind and calm expression. Moving away, he allowed the woman to approach the Maiden. Sango began speaking in low hushed tones, but the girl seemed almost catatonic in her behavior, refusing to release the sheets even as she coughed and struggled for breath.
Sango had the situation under control. Ranma spared the girl one last look before stepping out hurriedly of the house.
The night air was cooler, crisper, and for that Ranma was glad. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he ran his fingers though his thick black hair agitatedly.
Nope, his day was not going well at all.
All he had wanted to do before rounding up his day was to check out the mysterious unconscious Ukyo had brought back to their Headquarters, then go straight to bed and try not to mope over how Ryoga had screwed up the important mission, or where they were going to move to next. Instead, he had entered Sango's house just in time to see the girl start choking violently in her sleep and glowing- glowing, of all things! - a bright eerie blue.
In sheer shock, he had reacted instinctively, grabbing her and yanking her into a sitting position. The moment he made contact with her skin, the blue glow had dissipated harmlessly into the air and she had awoken, giving him the first glimpse of bewildered frightened honey brown.
That was no battle aura. Ranma's brow furrowed in deep thought, his curiosity finally intrigued. Who was she? And more importantly, why on earth did she start emitting creepy blue light?
He already had a hunch about the light, though… He was willing to bet a pouch of gold that it had something to do with magic of some sorts. Either someone had placed some spell on her, or she was one of those people who had been born with strong powers of the paranormal, and as far as he knew, Maidens could do weak magic, but rarely had the ability to conjure up something of this scale… unless, well he could check it out; they had one or two mages within the rebels…
"Saotome."
Ranma turned around to see Sango. The young woman's expression was somewhat perturbed. "Is she all right now?" he asked without thinking.
Sango nodded, but still her expression remained disturbed. "How," she began to ask.
Ranma shrugged. "No idea," he admitted. "I'll get someone to do a bit of research tomorrow morning, but in the meantime keep an eye on her." If she does have powers of any sort, it would strengthen our ranks. "Send her over to my quarters tomorrow morning, okay?"
Sango nodded. "Got it," she answered. "Oh, and Saotome?"
He paused. "Yeah?"
"Her name is Akane." Why Sango felt a need to tell him this, Ranma was not sure. But he filed it away carelessly anyway.
"Okay. See you tomorrow, Sango."
"Goodnight, Saotome." He waited until she had reentered the house and shut the door lightly with a firm click.
Then Ranma turned on his heel and began a brisk walk back to his quarters. Tomorrow, he was sure, would be an equally long day.
Edited, 3/5/2014: Corrected some spelling and grammar mistakes. Also edited the characters' ages to fit the timeline.