You know what? My stories have been disclaimed, by yours truly, every single chapter as far as i can remember. I still don't know if i actually have to do them or if this is just an exercise in futility. So i'm making this the last, that encompasses every chapter i write for this story from here on out. Now why didn't I think of this earlier? Jeez...
FW: Who knew that college kept you busy enough to steal you from your hobbies? It's been over 5 years since I started this story, and reading it over after a long hiatus, I realize that I have slowly inched towards a darker tone, and that is best saved on my Hellsing story (Vampiric Lone Wolf Blues, you all should totally read it) Also, I know from my reviews (which I do read for your information) that people are appreciative of me keeping the characters in character as much as possible. So with that in mind, I will try to get back to the lighter side of things, while still maintaining the tension and suspense.
Chapter Three: The Tournament Begins...
The darkness was nearly gone, and even though you couldn't see the sun, its rays slivered up over the horizon. The thick, misty morning air rolled in with the first light, giving the city that ghastly, eerie grey glow. For a few mintues, people walked the streets not able to see past the next block, and with sheer quiet that comes with the early hours, London guised itself as a ghost town.
And as the light of the distant star shone brighter, the colorful glow off on the horizon could be seen. The few who were already awake welcomed the sunrise into their morning routine, while others who woke with the sun were greeted by the familiar sight. More and more people opened their sleep-filled eyes to the universal clock, that solar sign that started the day.
With the edge of the sun peeking up from under the Earth, the direct sunlight began to cut into the morning fog. Slowly, the air warmed, and the misty veil began to thin. Soon people would be finishing up their coffee, waking their children, lacing their boots, and stepping out onto a clear sidewalk under a cloudless sky. And so began the day for the people of London.
... but so ended a long and vigilant night for one inhabitant who did not find the comfort of sleep, at least not when the moon was out. Instead, he had spent the night lounging in a chair facing the door to his... well, you couldn't call it his apartment. He wasn't paying rent, after all. So you couldn't call it his, and you really coudn't call it an apartment at all. He was squatting in... let's say a room. A dilapidated, dusty mess of what might have once been some family's apartment, in a building slowly dying from disrepair and abandonment. Hidden behind a block of more modern and well-kept structures that made up a piece of the living London, this dead edifice was forgotten. Its stairs only went up so far, as the top-most had rotted into a state of unusable filth; dust lined the banister that had toppled in so many places, but still stood in a few, and many of the numbers that identified the rooms had fallen off the doors and had long since toppled over the edge and down into the bottom floor. It was a building that was not to be salvaged, and if the city had its way in a few years would torn down to make room for something new. But until then... it was the home of a lone soul who looked over the city from the highest room he was able to reach.
Sleep never came easy for Jason nowadays. A tense atmosphere reigned over sleepless nights, as every siren that sounded and every flashing light caught his attention, pricked at his ears and his eyes. Even on quieter nights, he couldn't help but feel the tension, the fear. He knew they were out looking for him, and he knew it would only be a matter of time. One slip up, and he would spend the next 50 years in a dingy cell not much cleaner than where he was now. And it was those thoughts that kept him up at night, that had turned him into a nocturnal animal, doing his work at night and hiding from the suns rays by day.
Even during the day, when the sun warmed his skin and he lay down on his flimsy mattress, the Sandman would not come easily. Very often, his mind wandered. Back to the days in his home country, when he was a child. No worries, then. His family wasn't rich, not by a long shot, but he was happy. His aunt and uncle loved him, cared for him. They were old, kind, and they watched over him as well as any parents would.
And that thought would always lead him down the dark path of self-absorbed loathing that kept him from dreaming peacefully. His parents. His biological mother and father. What a pair. A child that they didn't want, left in the care of an "aunt" and "uncle" that he had no real blood connection to. Like it mattered. Those two cared for him more deeply than the two high-class American leeches that had birthed him. He could remember the day he met them. Well kempt, well dressed. Their Spanish fluent but with a slight, ugly splattering of American. He could remember their faces rather clearly. Big, fake smiles that kept saying, "We're your parents. Come home with us." What a nightmare.
And just like he told his mind to ignore those memories, to run away from that recurring nightmare of a thought, he had packed what little he had, some coins, some bills, some memoirs of home... and he ran. At first he had no idea where he was headed. All he could think of was to get away. Far away. Where the Americans couldn't find him. He always felt sorry for leaving his foster parents, but he couldn't stay. He knew that if he did his real parents would keep coming back. Keep pressing until eventually he would have to go with them. And he just couldn't allow that to happen.
The bus took him to a small port on the coast, where he could see the boats coming and going across the ocean. He sat there, on the beach, staring at the horizon. Costa Rica was a small country, he thought. They would find him. There were only so many places to hide. He need more distance, to get further away. And so he snuck onto a small passenger boat that was on its way out to Cuba. It was not a place he wanted to stay. He had his eyes on a bigger prize. The one place his parents would never think to look.
America.
And with that, Jason shook his memories out of his head. The thoughts of his days in America only served to keep sleep further from his reach. Instead, he turned his thoughts to a gentler, happier memory. The last place he felt that satisfied warmth. The last place he felt at peace. Nerima.
Nowhere expect in his childhood memories had Jason ever looked up into a clear blue afternoon sky and simply smiled. For years and years every step he ever took was just preceding another step that would take him to another place, another city, another country. It was in that small village in Japan that Jason was able to take one final step. He had reached a destination that, until finally reaching it, he had not known what it was. He had been wandering aimlessly towards an end that he couldn't see, forever eluding his footsteps, until he could walk no further. He had run to the ends of the earth and found for himself a little piece of it that he could call home. And people... that he called his family...
And it was through this bittersweet thought that Jason could finally rest. With the sting of loneliness in his eyes he could dig into the filthy bed and old blanket and allow his mind to fall into dreams of his home. Dreams of his family. And dreams of his love.
The dreams of her love were interrupted violently at the gut-wrenching thought of his prolonged absence and criminal reappearance. Nabiki sat up quickly in bed, flustered and breathing heavily. Those dark and frightening thoughts had her hair standing on end and her adrenaline pumping, but as she surfaced into full consiousness and saw the dim hotel room around her, she tried to reign in her errant mind and calm herself.
Disbelief lingered at the epicenter of her thoughts. His actions did not reflect the cool, unshakeable attitude carried by the young man who so subtly collapsed into her life. Jason was the epitome of smooth, of taking surprises head on and maintaining his poker face throughout. His silent demeanor made it difficult, almost frustratingly so, for Nabiki to read his thoughts and his emotions, but during his short stay in Nerima, her persistence sliced a hole in his stoicism, just enough of one for her to see what he had hidden within: kindness, passion for music, and signs of an inner emotional struggle he kept even closer to his chest than the rest. He was intriguing, complex, intelligent. He was foreign and familiar, all at once. He was unique, and she loved him for that. She fell in love with one Jason Vargas.
Last night... that was not him. It was a doppelganger. A ruse. An inventive scheme someone constructed to fool her. The man at the restaurant... he was cold, not cool. Emotionless, rather than calm. Aggressive, not passive. His actions betrayed him to be a being that couldn't be further from her heart's desire, and yet... the lingering image of those piercing blue eyes rose up from the haze of the memory of the event. Through those twin portals, she saw beneath the criminal, and had caught a glimpse of Jason. The real Jason. The man she loved was still there... just hidden. Suppressed. Whatever had happened in his time here in London, it had changed him. Caused him to retreat into himself. To put on a criminal's face and act the part... but why? That was the burning question. Why would he changed himself into something he wasn't? What did he hope to accomplish by it?
Nabiki's thoughts swirled round and round. She squeezed her eyes shut, buried her head deep into the cheap hotel pillow. Mere hours after the incident, she was still greatly unsettled. She just wanted to sleep, to push her tumultuous thoughts down until she could sort them out the following day. His face passed before her once again, and she prayed for relief, for a brief respite from her thoughts, for sleep to drag her worries away...
The day was a little over an hour old when Ukyo opened her eyes. Sunlight illuminated the room warmly, and she realized that she had slept in a bit later that she usually did, but taking into consideration last night's events, it didn't surprise her. After Jason... I still can't believe that was him... after he stole into the alleys of the city, the area around the restaurant became a bustling commotion of lights, officers, onlookers, and a general traffic that rivaled the afternoon rush hour. It took almost two hours just to make it back to the hotel. The taxi had slowly but safely navigated through the knots of cars clogging the streets. It was a quiet ride home, save for the taxi driver's initial inquisitiveness into the situation. But after a quick brief, he caught the mood of the passengers and withdrew his questions. Ukyo and Ryoga had volunteered to squish up front with the driver, while Ranma and Akane stayed in back with Nabiki, wore a silent and emotionless stare the entire way home. Out the car and into the building, she simply walked forward, head held high, betraying none of the emotion roiling within. Through the lobby and up the elevator, she maintained her composure, finally slipping into her room without a word to her sister or her friends.
The event had her blood running all night, and it took time for Ukyo's nerves to settle before she could finally shut her eyes and attempt to sleep. Ryoga stayed up with her, speaking quietly about Jason and Nabiki and what might happen next. His presence was comforting, and despite his disdain for the man, Ryoga was not so quick to condemn Jason, but instead was curious to learn what Jason's motivations might have been. They were both sure that more would be discussed the following day, and decided to turn in for the night. Ukyo gripped Ryoga's hand before he could rise from her bedside, and they locked gazes for a second. He did not blush. She released his hand, and they both ran through their nightly routines before finally laying down and getting some much needed sleep.
Ukyo lay awake for another few minutes, not wanting to leave her bed right away, but she began to toss and turn, and her restlessness finally drew her to swing her legs over the side of her bed and sit up to absorb the morning sun. She stretched and yawned, her ocean blue hair rolling lazily over her shoulders.
The bit of noise she made was enough to catch Ryoga's ear, and he too sat up straight to let out a large yawn, scratching his head while he cocked his head in Ukyo's direction.
"What time is it?"
She glanced at the little clock between their beds. "Half past ten."
Ryoga groaned and collapsed back onto his mattress, pulling the covers back over his head. "Too early. Wake me up when we have to report to the tournament."
Whack! The spatula landed squarely on the back of Ryoga's head, inciting a loud yelp as he hopped into a standing position on the bed, pointing accusingly with one hand while rubbing his wound with the other. "Ow ow ow! Whadya do that for, trying to give me a concussion before the tourney? Jeez..."
Ukyo rested her weapon onto her shoulder. She huffed "Lazy bum! The speech starts before noon! You go back to bed and we'll miss it! We might even be disqualified!"
Ryoga crossed his arms and legs, sitting defensively on his bed. He closed his eyes and wagged a finger back at her. "Well you didn't have to strike me just for that. It was a long night and I wanted to get the proper amount of sleep.
Hands on her hips, Ukyo bent over to look in Ryoga's face. "And what happened to the disciplined young man who always woke up with the sun?"
He sighed. "Ranma is having a bad influence on me..."
Ukyo ruffled her frizzled blue hair and tossed it back as she stood up straight. "Well you can have a chance now to make up for it. I'm going to draw a bath so we can get ready to head into town."
Ryoga scrunched his face, and looked at her behind squinted eyes. "No funny business this time?"
She slipped into the bathroom to bathe, but not before peeking her head out. "Whatever do you mean, dear?" She smiled her sly smile before closing the door.
He sighed to himself, and the sound of running water prompted him to face away from the bathroom. Instead, he turned himself out to face the rays entering through the hotel window, and from his cross-legged position he took a deep breath and focused on the thoughts floating in his head. They were disjoint and unorganized. The break from routine in coming here to London had jumbled them all up. Time to put them in their place.
Minutes ticked by, and the warmth crawling across his skin kept him relaxed while he meditated over the events of the past few days. His focus on the tournament had slipped into the background. While the turmoil surrounding Jason was not to be brushed aside, he had come for the tournament, and it would need to once again take priority. He resolved not to take the next few days for granted, and brought out an eagerness to begin training once more.
Next, he turned his thoughts onto last night. The memory replayed quite clearly, but many questions surrounded the incident. Why here? Why now? What was his motivation? What could Zilart have possibly done? Unknowns... the incident was a dark cloud of unknowns, and trying to discern any answers from what little information he had would be an exercise in futility. He would need to push this aside for now, remembering to be understanding of Nabiki's impact by it and to be vigilant of any clues or answers he might encounter.
And finally, a single, nagging thought crept up slowly from the haze. Ukyo... The image of her face came easily to him. Thoughts of her were common now, flitting in and around him like a hummingbird. They weren't something he could contain, or predict, or isolate. These thoughts evaded his focus... or perhaps he purposely avoided confronting them. A soft voice in his head told him that he knew exactly what her presence in his mind meant, but his proud will was quick to deny. Only... the voice of denial was weaker by the day. Still he wondered, but more and more he could not ignore that whisper... You know what these thoughts mean...
The bathroom door opened, and a sweet, misty aroma flooded his nostrils, serving to snap him out of his meditation. He opened his eyes, but continued to gaze out his bedroom window, to the city and streets below. He could hear her softly pad across the carpet over to where he sat, and out the corner of his eye he saw her trademark hair as she climbed onto the bed next to him, sitting on her knees next to him.
"Penny for your thoughts, hon?"
Ryoga blinked and very slightly cocked his head to the left, catching her inquisitive gaze for a moment before turning back to stare outside. "I was just meditating. It has been a busy couple of days, and I wasn't quite feeling like myself."
"And how do you feel now?"
"... Focused."
Ukyo smiled, and joined him in taking in the sights of a London morning. "Well good. The Ryoga I know never loses his cool."
Ryoga didn't have a response for her compliment. So after a moment, he turned to face her, and showed her a soft, but warm, smile. She in turn grinned, hiding the tiniest of blushes, and scooted in close. She wrapped both her arms around his left, and rested her head on his shoulder. For a moment, they sat still in this position, together enjoying the sunlight. Those nagging thoughts rose up like a tidal wave in his mind, and he wondered a few things: what this moment meant, if Ukyo was possible having the same thoughts, and how long he could keep juggling his pride and his emotions.
Akane's rise from slumber was less peaceful than Ryoga's, her thoughts much less settled. The morning rays were more annoying than welcome as she sat up in bed, slowly, as not to disturb the young man snoozing audibly next to her. Although in all honesty, there was no need to tread lightly while Ranma slept. He sunk faster into sleep than a lead weight in water, and stayed there until he was good and ready. Akane frowned slightly. Normally, the sight of her gentle, unpolished love lying next to her was enough to quell her worrisome self, but her thoughts would not allow her any relief this morning. Akane slid the covers off of herself, flipped them over onto Ranma's ragdoll figure, and rolled out of bed without disturbing a hair on his head. It was the morning of the tournament kick-off, and Ranma would need to be awake soon, but at the moment the tournament was far from Akane's concern.
Flashes of the previous night passed before her mind's eye. She saw the restaurant, straightforward in design but stylish and impressive. She remembered the commotion, the shouting and confusion. The gunshots. Her own disbelief in seeing Jason, the instigator of the whole event. The frantic aftermath which saw the building swarmed with officers and investigators. A seizure-inducing cacophony of ambulances and cruisers. But as unsettling as all of that was, there was still a single scene responsible for the discomfort and unease she was now feeling; the face of her sister, Nabiki, in complete and utter shock.
Akane had always looked up to her older sister. Nabiki was strong-willed, intelligent, and normally unshakeable in the face of all adversity. She was cunning, and dissected problems with speed and precision. Akane always tried to emulate her sister's natural confidence, and that toughness came out in her fighting style, but she could never quite match her sister's demeanor.
However, last night... Akane had seen a side of Nabiki she hadn't ever remembered seeing their whole lives... a weak side. When Jason leaped out the window, Nabiki's face drained of all color. Her legs gave out from under her and she fell backwards onto the floor. The police had to help escort her out of the restaurant/crime scene. She was a zombie, her face expressionless and empty. Nabiki didn't say one word the whole way back to the hotel, and Akane suspected that if Nabiki had tried to say anything at all, the tears she was most certainly holding back would have been released, and only her immense pride allowed her to maintain the slightest bit of composure.
Akane was worried sick about her big sister, and as she quickly dressed and stepped into her shoes, she wracked her brain for what to say. Never having seen Nabiki in such a state, she had no idea how to approach her. Nabiki was always the one to drill her on being tough, not the other way around, and now Akane had to connect with a broken version of the prideful big sister of her memories.
Akane slipped out the door and made her way to the next door over, Nabiki's room. The walk there seemed to stretch on for much longer than it should have. The roiling knot in her stomach squirmed as she faced the hotel's cookie-cutter door. Akane drew in a deep breath and did her best to calm her nerves. No matter how nervous she was, she knew she had to force herself to push forward, and with that, she rapped lightly on the door.
"Nabiki?"
There was no response, which really didn't come as a surprise. Nabiki could be asleep, or not wanting to talk to anyone, or so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn't even register the knock. There were a million reasons Akane could think of not to enter, but she steeled herself once more and tried the door handle. Surprisingly it was unlocked, and with another deep breath Akane quietly turned the handle and pushed the door open.
The blinds were pulled closed, but even so, slits of light sliced into the dim room. Everything in it seemed virtually untouched. The desk was clear, the complimentary coffee packets were still sealed, the beds were made. Sitting on the edge of the far bed was Nabiki Tendo, facing out towards the closed window. The morning rays striped her face, her eyes falling into a strip of shade. Akane glanced down, and saw Nabiki's suitcase next to her feet. No clothes around the room... She's planning on leaving.
Akane made her way over to her sister's side, and sat down next to her. Up close, she could make out Nabiki's expression, or rather her lack of it. The look of shock had faded, but nothing had taken its place. It was void, and empty, and even more unlike the usual Nabiki than the shock was.
"Nabiki... where are you going?"
Nabiki's eyes tightened slightly, and Akane struggled to discern if it was anger leaking out, or an attempt to hold back tears. "I'm going home."
"But Nabiki, the tournament starts today. We've relied on you to help us stay on top of things. Without you - "
Nabiki interrupted, "You guys are all set already. You just need to show up and you will be fine. You don't need me here to hold your hands anymore."
Akane frowned. "I don't want you here just for that. You being here is important to me, to all of us. You support us better than anyone could, and it wouldn't be the same without you backing us up the whole way." Her voice dropped a bit. "Plus you have something else here you need to do..."
Nabiki sneered and looked down at her packed bag. "I should never have come. He weakened me. Made me rely on him while he was around, and now... I came because I felt I needed him back in my life." She paused to regain her composure, to not let her emotions take hold. "That wasn't the same man. I came halfway around the world to see a ghost. A shell of what he used to be." A quiver could be heard in her voice. "I can't forgive him for what he's become."
Akane was attentive to her every word. She listened, not just to her words, but to the pain she heard behind them. She knew her sister better than anyone else, and knew that this tough, uncaring front was just that; a front. An illusion. Nabiki didn't want to let anyone, even her own baby sister, see that she was shaken from her normal stolid self. "Forgiveness... that's become quite the issue around our house, hasn't it?" Nabiki didn't respond. "A year and a half ago... I hated someone so much that I felt I could never forgive him. In an instant, my only thought was that he was a completely different person from the man I thought he was. Even to this day, I am still stung at the thought of being deceived, but... every mistake we make is a mask we place over our true selves. Our mistakes hide us from the people around us. And even after we realize our mistake and slide off that mask... we have to carry it around with us, as a reminder of what we've done. Until that mistake is forgiven, we can't truly be rid of that mask. Maybe Jason isn't the same as he was, but I believe underneath his actions is a reason. You know he would never do something so foolish without a damn good reason. He's there Nabiki, behind the charade, and if you give him a chance to throw it off... you'll find the real Jason again. He just needs your help. When the time comes... all he'll need is your forgiveness."
Nabiki was a statue through her whole speech. Unblinking, she stared out through the shades into the English metropolis, busy and bright. When Akane stopped speaking, Nabiki broke her stare, and turned to face her younger sibling. Akane's eyes were hopeful. "Akane... it was a mistake for me to come. This place isn't for me. I'm sorry, but... I have to leave. For my own sake."
Akane couldn't hide her disappointment. She dipped her head in defeat. Both were silent for a few minutes before Akane rose to her feet to leave. Nabiki made no move as she crossed the room and opened the door to leave, but before stepping out into the hall, Akane had a final few words for her sister. "Have a safe trip home."
Nabiki didn't face her sister, but nodded an affirmative. "I'll see you there in a few weeks."
And on that note, Akane closed the door, leaving Nabiki by herself to her thoughts. It would be an hour or so before her taxi arrived to take her to the airport. The longest hour of my life, she thought to herself.
The four participating teens made their way down the blocks of mid-morning London in relative silence. Akane had returned to her room and gently woken Ranma up. He immediately sensed her unease, and prodded about her mood until she told him about Nabiki. Ranma was not happy to hear about her decision, but he understood her thoughts on the matter. She had been their lifeline here in Europe, and it would be more difficult to get by without her, but they would make do. He did his best to cheer Akane up, to get her mind focused back on the tournament, but it was to little avail. The disappointment in knowing her sister would be gone for the remainder of their stay had shaken her. It took all his convincing powers just to get her back out the door. They were already hard-pressed on time. Ryoga and Ukyo met them in the hallway, and with one look at Akane, they both knew that things were not well. As they exited the hotel, Ranma quietly explained the situation to Ryoga and Ukyo. Ukyo was visibly sad for Nabiki, and Ryoga tried his best to act nonchalant, but he too would miss their number one backer.
As they strolled along, all four of their minds settled onto the tournament. Even Akane eventually pushed her worries over her sister to the side and let her mind turn towards the matter at hand, the reason they were in this country. Today was the start of Zilart's big event, and as they drew nearer to the plaza where the inaugural speech was being held, the streets became more and more clogged with persons of ever nationality, every stature. More likely than not, these were the international crowds come to cheer their nation's respective participants on, with the occasional spattering of a fighter making his way through the crowd. Ranma and Ryoga tried to pick out their opponents, but the square was quickly becoming dense with onlookers, and they settled to making sure their group did not become separated in the crowd.
With all of the drama of the morning, they had arrived later than they probably should have, and were regaled to stand in the back and look onto the podium from afar. Luckily, there was a jumbo screen towering over the stage, and the four could clearly see officials and administrators milling about, preparing speakers, microphones, and personnel. They caught a glimpse of the man himself, Zilart, as he sat watching the events unfold. He didn't look nearly as unsettled as the previous night. Instead, he appeared almost relaxed as he chatted to the side with those sitting around him. However, the teens eyes were sharp, and they didn't miss his occasional shifty glance, or the amount of attention his security detail was giving to everything and everyone around him. Zilart was still wary, which meant that Jason was still out there, still hunting him. He wouldn't be near so foolish as to strike today though. There was far too much congestion and eyes watching to try anything today. Akane did briefly turn her eyes out to the rooftops and windows surrounding the event, and wondered briefly... I wonder if he's out there, somewhere, watching...
"Did you see any fighters Ranma?"
"Maybe, but with so many people, it was hard to pick them out."
"Darn. I would have liked to identify some competition so we know what we're up against before hand."
"Don't worry Ryoga, I'm sure we'll be able to handle anything we come up against."
Ukyo butted in on their conversation. "Well you guys better be ready now. Some of the fights are slated to start today."
"Whaaaat? But we haven't had any time to train!"
"Ya, well I'm sorry Racchan, but you better be ready right away. We're just going to have to rely on our talent and luck today, and then get some training in starting after that."
"But we don't even have our tags! How will we even get in?"
"What do you mean we don't have our tags? I thought you brought them!"
"No! Ryoga?"
"I don't have them on me. You guys didn't let me carry them, you thought I'd lose them. Akane?"
"No, I don't have them either. I don't think any of us remembered to bring them."
"Oh no, what are we gonna do if one of us has to participate today? We are so screwed..."
"You would be, if you didn't have me." The soft voice startled the group, and they collectively turned to see Nabiki standing behind them, dangling the four entry tags from her left hand.
"Nabiki!"
Akane slipped in and gave her sister a quick hug before meeting her eyes. They were sharp, focused, and a bit brighter than they were. Clouds still lingered over her, but... "What are you doing here?"
Nabiki handed out the tags to the four fighters one-by-one. "You guys are such trouble, you know that? Leaving your tags with me, and not even thinking to grab them before you left?" She placed one finger to the bridge of her nose. "I can't believe I still have to hold your hands."
Akane ignored her trademark banter. "So... what happened to leaving? You changed your mind?"
Nabiki's face darkened, and Akane could still see she was torn at the thought of Jason. "I still don't understand what's going on here, but-" Nabiki pointer her finger to the elderly gentleman on the stage, preparing to take the podium "-he is obviously involved in all this in a way we don't know. I know Jason. He's no fool. If he was driven to attack him so viciously... Something is very wrong here, and I don't think I can leave until I get some answers. And deep down..." Nabiki placed on hand on the necklace dangling from her neck. "Deep down, I think Jason feels the same way I do. I think he's looking for answers, answers that only Zilart can answer. I think his desire to uncover those secrets drove him to put himself in harms way, and if there is a secret big enough to force him into such action... It must be important. I'm going to give him one chance to explain himself, and if I don't like what I hear..." She gripped the little charm tightly.
Akane placed a calming hand onto Nabiki's shoulder. "We'll figure this all out Nabiki. Jason showed himself once, and I'm inclined to believe he'll do it again. We just have to be ready when he does."
Nabiki looked into her sister's determined face and nodded. Resolve flowed through her veins, and she heard a cheer from the crowd as Zilart, the key to all of this mystery, stepped up to the podium, ready to give the first words of the tournament. The five Nerima natives all turned to face the stand, feeling the strength of their unit brought together once more. There would be more, much more challenge to come, and each of them would have to steel their nerves and be ready for anything and everything this grand event threw at them. Starting now.
Chapter End
AN: Phew! Another long delayed chapter brought to a close. My relief at every chapter I manage to plow through knows no bounds. And now that I have the ball rolling again, hopefully I can make quicker strides to continue with the momentum I've managed to steal. Please please please, send in those reviews! Every one I get in an infinite amount of help in guiding my story along and keeping me involved. After all, I'm writing for you as much as I am for me.