Happy Halloween to one and all in the land of the FFML!!!

        Contained below is a fanfic I've been working on for a long time now
which I sincerely hope you all will enjoy.  

        I will warn you though, this story does contain some heavy
atmospheric tones and violence in more than one place.  Technically, this
would qualify as a Darkfic, but I left out the tag because I consider it to
be more atmospheric than dark. I will leave the interpretation of the above
to individual readers, but if you are offended by dark or semi-dark fanfics,
you have been warned.  

        For those of you who do not know, VtM stands for "Vampire: The
Masquerade," an excellent game put out by White Wolf Publishing.  You do not
need to play the game to read (and hopefully enjoy) this fic, but knowledge
of it will help with getting some of the injokes from the game.

        I've had some problems with the formating of this fic and I've tried
to clear them up as best I can.  If for some reason, however, the formating
comes out crazy, I'm sorry, but I did my best.  C&C is greatly appreciated
and is requested even more so.^_^

        Once again, I wish everyone a safe and happy Halloween.

        I hope you all enjoy this!

        Sincerely,

        James C. Jones "The Blood Phoenix"

And now on with the fic!

********************************************
Begin:  Ranma 1/2: "The Kiss of Darkness"
********************************************

Ranma ½:  "The Kiss of Darkness"

By:  James "Phoenix" Jones 

< > Indicates thoughts.

NOTE:  For those of you who do not play Vampire the Masquerade, I have
included a small glossary at the end of my author notes for help.  You don’t
really need to know them to enjoy the fic, but it does help for a few in jokes.

****************************************

	Endless darkness stretched to the horizon as the storm clouds overhead
blotted out the retreating daylight.  In the distance, thunder rumbled
lazily, signaling the end of yet another day.  Soon… it would be time.
	Pushing open the ancient door, she entered her haven. As she did so, she
wrinkled her nose slightly at the musty smell.  Candles, placed at random
intervals over the interior, bathed the room in a soft glow.  As she moved
from the door, the candles flickered silently, as if bowing in respect.
The shadows, caused by the eternal vigil of the candles, danced and sang in
a silent tribute.  A never ending dance of light and shadow swirled around
the room in a symphony of silence.
	Around her, objects displayed themselves for her inspection; a bauble here,
a picture there, an endless stream of objects collected in her long years.
Nothing about the room surprised her; she knew ever inch of it, not by
heart, but by the remainder of her soul.  Each item had some special meaning
to her; be they from her childhood or after, she treasured them all.
	Soundlessly, she made her way to her objective.  Her bare feet seemed to
float above the thickly carpeted floor as the thin, gossamer-soft material
of her gown trailed behind her, blown by an unfelt breeze.  This room always
made her feel at ease, as though being among her memories would blot out the
knowledge of her present "life." This was _her_ time, her nightly ritual
that she would not change, even if ordered to do so.   Now, just after
sunset, was the one time she could be alone with her thoughts and memories.
	After what seemed like an eternity, she reached her objective; the enormous
window which dominated the farthest wall of the room.  Placing her hand
against its smooth, ice-like surface, she allowed herself a contented smile.
Others said it was foolish to keep such a large window without curtains,
after all, the sun was her eternal enemy now, but she did not care.  The
objects in this room were too precious to cast into the darkness that she
herself had succumbed to decades earlier. 
She had no fear of the sun now though.  In the distanced,  the dark clouds
had already eclipsed its dying rays.  In the distance, lighting flashed;
sending bolts of pure light across the heavens.  Heaven… would she ever be
fortunate enough to enter that sacred place?  
Angrily, she shook her head to block the thoughts, but they refused to
leave.  And why should they?  It had been her choice to become what she was…
he had not forced it upon her.  Oh no!  She had _asked_ him for this and, in
doing so, had forever taken herself from Heaven’s sight.  
"If only you where still with me," she said to herself.
Oh how she wished he was still at her side, but he was not; his time had
come long ago… leaving her alone.  Turning, she leaned against the window,
ignoring the icy chill that penetrated her thin garment.  Cold, was such a…
human… feeling, and she no longer needed such things.  Or did she?  
Ever so slowly, she let her head move from side to side.  As she did so, she
felt the long tresses of her brown, silk-like hair run over her exposed
neck.  With the sensation, came the memories.  She had given up everything,
for _this!_  Why?
<You know why,> a voice chided, but she ignored it.  She had become used to
ignoring her conscience.  Thankfully, she had learned that skill decades ago.  
Behind her, she could hear the slight pattering of raindrops as they
caressed the glass of the window.  
Turning back, she faced the window again and placed her hand against it,
absorbing the cold of the glass deep into her being.  
Closing her eyes, she tried to block out her doubts and think about the
things she _did_ have.  
She was rich, having made a fortune during her time in America; and even
more so upon returning to her home.  She lived in an enormous mansion that
was, according to her sources, the envy of all those around her.  She had
her status… Primogen of her Clan and the ear of the Prince as well. 
Still, she felt as though she had nothing.  Despite her wealth and status,
she felt empty.  This room, however, was her solace, her haven.  In this
place, surrounded by her past, she felt at peace.  Here, she felt whole again.
Feeling moisture on her cheeks, she opened her eyes quickly; surprised she
could still remember how to cry.  Out of curiosity, she looked at the window
once more.  Although her reflection was barely visible, she could clearly
see the red streaks of her tears as they cascaded down her face to fall from
her chin.
Suddenly, a roar of thunder erupted nearby, causing her to jump in surprise.
Mentally, she cursed herself for doing so.  The rain and thunder were, by
now, old friends and she always welcomed them.  Still, they managed to
surprise her sometimes.
Waving her arm, she willed the candles in the room to die; eagerly, they
complied with her unspoken wish.  Left alone in the darkness, she continued
to stare out the window.  From her vantage, she could make out some lights
of the city and she could not repress a pang of loneliness.  The lights
looked so happy to her.
	Moving to one side, she took hold of an ancient wooden chair and pulled it
to the window.  Sitting down, she leaned back and continued to stare through
the glass.  In the inky blackness, all she could see other than the lights
was the dark landscape, occasionally pronounced by a flash of lighting.
This was her home now and, despite herself, she smiled.
	"Mistress?"
	Raising her face from the window, she turned to face the speaker.  Even
through the blackness of the cluttered room, she could easily see the
outline of the speaker as he kneeled in the door.  His small, dark frame
made the nighttime seem almost bright by comparison. 
	"Yes, what is it, Sasuke?" She asked, her flute-like voice echoing
throughout the room.
	Standing, Sasuke made his way to the window and again kneeled before her.
"I came to see if you had awakened yet, Mistress… I am pleased that you have
already decided to grace the night with your presence.  I must also confess,
though, I also wished to make sure you are well.  Hunters are notorious for
using nights like this."
	Despite herself, she let a smile cross her lips.  Sasuke had been her
faithful servant and bodyguard for decades now, but it still flattered her
that he thought so highly of her well-being.  Extending her hand she rested
it gently on his shoulder. 
	"Good, Sasuke, your concern is appreciated, but unnecessary," she said
calmly.  Even after all this time, it still surprised her when she spoke so
formally… so different from how she had once been. "There have been no
hunters in Tokyo for nearly two years now.  Besides, even the bravest of
them refuse to enter the home of their quarry."
	Still kneeling, Sasuke bowed deeply, his face almost touching the floor.
"Shall I prepare dinner for you then?" 
	For a moment, she considered his offer, but decided against it.  The hunger
was, as always, growing; for the moment though, she did not feel like
feeding.  Shaking her head soundlessly, she said, "No,  that will not be
necessary, Sasuke.  I'll feed later."
	"Very good, Mistress."
	As Sasuke stood, he bowed again and turned to leave.  She smiled at his
graceful movements, amazed that this was the same clumsy ninja she had
embraced so long ago.  Feeling his movements toward the door, she turned her
head once more to the storm which now raged outside her home.  
Suddenly, a new noise broke through the silence.  The loud noise of her
ancient door-knocker echoed off the walls of the mansion.  Taking her gaze
from the window, she idly wondered who would be calling on her in this weather.
	"Mistress?" Sasuke asked, his usually calm voice betraying concern.
	Standing, she tied her robe tightly around her waist and returned the chair
to its proper position.  "See who it is, Sasuke," she commanded.  "I shall
join you momentarily."
	Bowing deeply, Sasuke vanished into the darkness. 
	Taking one last look around the room, she smiled happily.  In response, the
candles slowly ignited one by one.  With a nod, she stepped through the
door, closing it tightly behind her.

***********

	As he neared the stairs of the main hall, Sasuke lifted a candle holder and
lit the wick with a thought.   Holding it before him, he slowly descended
the stairs.  Of course, he had no need of the candle; he knew every inch of
the mansion and could find his way to any room simply by the silent sounds
which filled each one.   The candle, however, would be necessary for
appearance sake.  If the visitor at the door was not one of his kind, it
would look suspicious for him to be walking around such a lavishly furnished
home in total darkness. 
 As he descended, the light from the candle played across the gatherings of
more than a century.  Vases, paintings, figurines and other, less
identifiable objects lined the mansion at regular intervals.
	Mentally, he smiled at the thought of the mansion.  
When his Primogen had purchased it, the home had been a derelict, on the
verge of collapse.  Her money, his time, and their collective care, however,
had turned it into a masterpiece of architecture.  Now, it sported a subtle
blend of modern conveniences with a traditional Japanese appearance.  The
crowning glory had been his mistress’ haven.
	In an age of wonders that, not a century earlier had been science fiction,
the house made one feel that nostalgia still had a place in the world.  Its
facade was wood, something considered a rare privilege in these times.  It’s
location, nearly half a mile from the feeding grounds of the city, kept it
detached from the watchful eyes of curious onlookers.  Finally, the fact
that it still used candles for lighting on most occasions made it feel old
and comfortable.  Like those who called it home, the house was unique.
	Step after step, he continued on his way as the knocker of the door sounded
again.  The echo had an unearthly effect to it; an effect enhanced by the
sporadic claps of thunder.  It was an impromptu symphony that resonated
through the mansion as if it were an enormous drum.
	Upon reaching the ground, he let his feet tread silently over the thick
carpet.  The candle, flickering because of his motion, cast a weak light
about the main foyer causing the shadows to dance an insane jig to an
unheard music.  Reaching the door, he slowly began to undo the bolt, and
stopped.
	Immediately, his hand snapped back as if burned by sunlight.  What if this
was an ambush?  Then again, who would be foolish enough to ambush a Primogen
in her own home?  He was being paranoid and he knew it.
	Still, added insurance never hurt.  Taking a step to the right of the door,
he touched the wall lightly, his hand running over the smooth finish of the
polished wood.  After a moment, his hand brushed the hole and the panel
opened.  Bringing the light to the opening, he looked inside.
	Three weapons presented themselves for his inspection; two small caliber
guns and a knife.  Reaching inside, he selected the knife and tucked it into
the folds of his shirt.  Closing the panel, he returned to the door.
	Undoing the bolt, he slowly pulled the door open.  "Yes?" He inquired
through the crack.
	Outside, stood a young man with his arms wrapped tightly around his torso.
The rain, falling in droves, pummeled him ruthlessly.  Looking up, the young
man nodded his head quickly and Sasuke could just make out the white irises
of the man’s eyes.  Stepping back, he opened the door fully and made a
sweeping gesture, signally the man to enter; he complied quickly.
	"Greetings," he said through clenched teeth.  "Are you Sasuke?"
	"I am," Sasuke replied.  Looking the man over, he guessed his human age to
be around the mid twenties.  He was dressed in soaked, blue denim jeans and
a black leather jacket.  From the man’s long hair and wolf-like features,
Sasuke guessed him to be Gangrel.
	"Hello," the man repeated.  "I would like to speak to the Primogen."
	Immediately, Sasuke became alert for danger and scanned the man’s slender
frame.  He was soaked to the skin and, from the look of it, carried no
weapons.  Obviously, he had not come looking for a fight.
	"Then you will speak with her."
	Surprised, both the man and Sasuke raised their faces to the top of the
stairs.  Standing, bathed in the soft glow of a candle, stood the Primogen.
Slowly, she began to descend the steps.
	The man could do little more than gawk; he had heard of his Primogen’s
beauty, but he had never seen her before this night, and she mesmerized him.
Her brown, silk-fine hair weaved itself into a loose ponytail, lazily placed
over her right shoulder.  Her clothes, a beautiful red-silk blouse and black
pants, hugged her body tightly, leaving little to the imagination.  Her
face, however, intrigued him the most.  
The Primogen’s sweet, innocent expression, set off by kindly brown eyes
seemed to bore into his very being.  As she came to stand before him, the
light from her candle splashed lovingly across her features, accentuating
her already stunning beauty.  Had he not known she was his Primogen, he
would swear she was a goddess.
	"Good evening," she said warmly, her flute-like voice sending a chill up
his spine.  "What brings you here in such a storm?"
	Shaking his head, the man moved his jaw quickly, but now words escaped.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he found his voice again.  "G-
greetings, my lady," he said in perfect Japanese.  His voice cracked
slightly, but not enough to hide the English accent behind the words.  "I- I
came here to seek an audience with you."
	Despite herself, she smiled comically, not used to being greeted so
formally.  Of course, Japan was still relatively low on the population of
her kind.  Judging by the young man’s accent and appearance,  he obviously
was _not_ Japanese. 
"What is it you wanted?" She asked calmly.
	"There is matter of… personal importance… I would like to speak to you
about, my lady," he said quickly.
	She smiled reassuringly at the young man.  His words betrayed his
nervousness, and she resolved quickly to destroy that nervousness.  The
Primogens in the West may demand such formality, but she would have none of
it.  "Then speak… Oh my!  You’re completely drenched," the last she added as
she finally took note of his soaked clothing and hair.
	The boy shook his head quietly.  "Please pay this no mind, my lady," he
said.  "I am used to such things."
	"I don’t care!" She snapped.  "Sasuke, please fetch a change of clothes for
him."
	"My Lady!  There is no need to…"
	The sentence died as she gazed at him with the most stern look she could
muster.  Bowing, Sasuke moved to another room to fetch the clothes.  As they
waited, she began to speak again.
	"What is so important that you would speak to me so urgently?" She asked,
her voice becoming strained suddenly.  "Nothing has happened to the Prince?"
	The man quickly shook his head, assuaging her fears.  "No, my lady.
However, this does concern one of his particular… permissions," he said at
length.
	Unsure of what she was being told, she could only nod as she waited for him
to continue.  
	Seeing that she was waiting for an explanation, he acted.  Moving to one
knee, he took her free hand in his own and bowed his head to her.  "My lady,
I have come to beg a favor of you."
	Surprised by his action, she was momentarily speechless.  Looking down on
him, she marveled at how fearful he was of her; as if asking for her help
was the greatest sin he could commit.  Looking down at her hand, held
tightly in his, she wished fervently that she was still human; then she
could have blushed.  Removing her hand from his grasp, she placed her
fingers under his chin and raised his face to look into his eyes.
	"Stand up," she stated kindly.  "I’m not royalty.  What do you want?"
	Standing quickly, the man bowed to her and began to speak.  "My lady," he
began, "with your permission, I would ask for you to speak to the Prince on
my behalf."
	"What for?"
	The man looked from left to right nervously.  "There is a woman I wish to
embrace and… I am not brave enough to confront the Prince to ask his
permission."
	As he spoke, her pleasant expression fell quickly.  Seeing this, he began
to panic.  Fortunately, Sasuke chose that moment to return.
	"I have the clothes, Mistress," he said quietly.
	"Excellent, Sasuke," she replied, her voice tense, aloof and cold as ice.
"After he changes, bring him up to my room.  I’ll meet you there."
	"B- but, you said that no one was to…"
	"Sasuke," she said calmly, her voice once again assuming a soothing tone.
"Just bring him up after he changes."
	"Yes, Mistress," he replied with a deep bow.

**********
	
Upon entering the room, the young man could not keep from staring.  Shelves
lined each wall, reaching to the ceiling and small tables dominated the
floor.  Objects of every discernible type covered every conceivable space.
Blood red candles stood proudly in the center of each table. On the far
wall, an enormous window gave a perfect view of the storm raging outside.  
It was there, he saw his Primogen, the dark light outside clearly
silhouetting her figure.  Her back was to him and her arms where clasped
tightly behind her back.  She held her head high and it seemed as though she
was trying to gaze into the very being of the storm that raged before her.
If she heard him enter, she gave no indication of such.
Behind him, he felt Sasuke tap his shoulder lightly and motion for him to
walk to the window.  Following the unspoken command, he slowly made his way
across the carpet.  As he moved, it amazed him the way the room seemed to
absorb all sound his passing made.  Passing the tables, he noted quickly
that the candle flames seemed to bow to him as he made his way to the window.
He stopped several paces behind his Primogen; his pose ramrod straight.  The
light from the candles played across the features of the room, causing his
shadow to dance on the floor, mere inches from her feet.  Finally, after
what seemed like an eternity, she spoke.
"Sasuke?"
"Yes, Mistress?"
"Leave us please."
The man felt, more than heard, Sasuke bow and leave, shutting the door
soundlessly behind him.  He stood, still in military best as he waited for
her to speak.  He had learned that displeasing the Primogen was a mistake,
and he did not wish to repeat the experience.  Slowly, she turned from the
window to face him and, to his surprise, her face held a pleasant smile.
Looking him over, she saw that Sasuke had chosen a light blue, silk shirt
and a pair of black trousers for the man to wear.  The clothes, so different
from what he had been wearing, made him look handsome in a rustic sort of
way.  They also did nothing to hide his stock-still pose. 
"You don’t need to stand so stiffly, you’ll hurt your knees like that," she
scolded calmly.  
"My Lady, I…," he began.
"You are not Toreador," she said, cutting him off.  
A look of fear, mixed with surprise crossed his face and he felt himself
suck in air quickly.  "I… no, I am not," he said, his voice filled with shame.
"Then why come to me?"
"I… I am Catiff, my lady," he said, gloomily.  "I do not know what clan I
belong to."
"You look like you are Gangrel… why not speak to their Primogen."
"Because, the Prince of my old home was Toreador," he replied.  "He took me
in when no one else would… since then I have considered myself Toreador."
"I see," she replied in a warm voice.  "What is your name?"
"Gabriel Jordan," he replied.
Smiling pleasantly, she nodded and took a step to one side.  Behind her,
Gabriel saw a medium-sized table holding a large bottle and two wine
glasses.  He could not contain a feeling of surprise as he watched her lift
the bottle and fill both glasses with a shimmering red liquid.
"Will you drink with me, Gabriel?" She asked.
"I- I…," he stammered.  
Gabriel’s mind was almost unable to comprehend the kindness being shown to
him.  In his, relatively short lifetimes, his elders had always treated him
like trash; a thing to be walked over at every opportunity.  For a Primogen
to ask him to share a drink… words could not describe his awe.  
"I- I would be honored," he finally managed.
Smiling, she cupped one of the glasses between her fingers and passed it to
Gabriel.  Hands trembling, Gabriel accepted the offering and did his best to
return the smile.  At best, he managed a lopsided grin that earned him
another of the Primogen’s beautiful expressions.
"What shall we drink to?" She asked.
"Um… I… uh…," he stammered, the glass in his hands shaking.
Placing her glass upon the table, she gently took his hand in her own,
steadying it.  As she did so, fire exploded in his mind.  In all his years,
most of his kind had been loath to even look at him, but she had taken his
hand as though comforting a small child.  In his life, only one other person
had ever done such a thing.
"You don’t need to be afraid of me," she said, her voice warm and soothing.
"Please, make a toast."
As she released his hand, she turned to the table and retrieved her glass.
Raising it to the air, she waited patiently for him to make his toast.
Gabriel, his hand now steady, thought quickly about what might please his
Primogen.
"A toast to…," he began, still thinking.  "To… blood." 
"To blood," She repeated.  Raising the glass to her lips, she drank deeply
from it.  Likewise, Gabriel raised his own glass and drank deeply.  Although
the rumors that surrounded his kind suggested it, blood was not the _only_
thing they could drink.
As he finished the glass, he liked his lips quickly.  A moment later, his
eyes went wide as he exclaimed, "My lady!  This wine is a fifteen forty
burgundy!"
"I see you know your wine, Gabriel," she replied smugly.
"B- but… this wine is too good to waste on a…"
"A what?" She asked, her curiosity piqued.
Setting the glass down quickly, he bowed and said, "Forgive me, my lady, I
overstep my bounds."
"No you don’t," she scolded.  "I know how some of the elders in the West
demand formality, but I do not.  If you wish to speak your mind… speak it."
Quickly, Gabriel placed his glass back on the table and took a step away
from the Primogen.  The light of candles reflected off the glass, giving it
an eerie, yet peaceful, glow.  "I… thank you for you kindness to me, my
lady," he said at length.
Placing the glass back on the table, she looked deeply into his eyes.  Like
all her kind, his eyes sparkled with a dark, almost invisible flame which
hid the lifeless gaze behind them.  In his eyes, she could see awe, fear and
respect vying for the dominate expression.
"Gabriel," she said quietly.  "I can tell from your appearance that you
aren’t Japanese and from your accent, I am guessing that you are from
England.  Am I right?"
"Yes, my lady."
"I realize that the Elders in England may demand high formalities in all
dealings but, as I said, I don’t… just relax," she said, nodding as she
repeated herself.
"Yes, my lady," he replied.
Refilling the glass, she asked, "You said you wished me to speak to the
Prince on your behalf… correct?"
"I would be forever grateful, my lady."
Raising the glass between her first and middle fingers, she gently swirled
the liquid inside; the liquid, catching the light of the candles, cast
splintered rays of brightness across her features.  "You said that it
concerns someone you wish to embrace.  Who is it, Gabriel?"
"Someone I hold very dear to me, my lady," he replied, his voice growing
slowly more relaxed.  "She is… very special."
"A lover?"
"I… yes, she is."
Replacing the still full glass on the table, she turned to face the window
as if contemplating the storm.  "Do you love her?"
"Of course!"
"Does she love you?"
"Yes… she has said so many times."
"I see," she replied.  Turning back to the table, she retrieved the glass
and, raising it to her lips, downed the liquid in one gulp.  Replacing the
glass, she asked, "Does… she know?"
Gabriel, at first unsure what he was being asked, could only stare at her
dumbly.  In his mind, he furiously tried to find an answer.  Finally, he
understood her.
"Yes, my lady," he answered.  "In truth… she is the one who asked this of me."
"If you love her so much, and she wishes you to embrace her, then why didn’t
you just embrace her and be done with it?"
"I… have offended the Prince and the Primogens before, my lady," Gabriel
replied, his voice filled with remorse.  "I have not forgotten the lesson
and have no wish to repeat it."
"Answer me this then, you love her and she loves you.  If she had not asked
you to embrace her, would you do it anyway?"
"Never!" Gabriel shouted, his irises going dead white and his fangs extending.
"Be calm!" She replied.  "If you wish to fight me, then do so.  However, I
don’t advise trying."
Releasing his mistake, Gabriel’s face became fearful and the anger drained
from him immediately.  "Forgive me, my lady," he pleaded.  "I forget myself
sometimes.  You see, I was embraced against my will and I swore that, should
I ever wish to embrace another, I would not do so without their consent."
Turning back to the window, she clasped her hands behind her back.  As
Gabriel watched, she slowly turned her head from left to right, gazing
intently into the storm.  Every so often, a flash of lightning would outline
her figure and a clap of thunder would rattle the silence of the house.
Finally, after several intense moments of silence, she spoke.
"I understand why she asked you for this, Gabriel," she said.  "But, think
well before you do it… make sure that that the two of you aren’t trading
treasures for empty boxes."
"I do not understand, my lady," Gabriel replied, genuinely confused. 
Without turning, she continued, "There is something I would like to tell
you, Gabriel.  First, though, I’d like you to do something for me."
"Anything, my lady!" He replied.
Turning slowly, she spread her arms wide and made a motion that seemed to
encompass the entire room.  "This is my Haven, Gabriel," she said, calmly.
"I want you to study it carefully.  I have used this room to hold my
memories for nearly forty years now.  Aside from myself, Sasuke and the
Prince, you are the only other person who has ever entered it."
Again, Gabriel’s eyes widened as he began to understand the gift she was
sharing with him.  However, he stayed silent as she continued.
"The objects in this room are all precious to me, Gabriel," she continued.
"However, there is one in particular that is more important than the rest.
I want you to find it for me."
Gabriel stared at her, dumbfounded.  "My lady, I- do not even know where to
begin."
"Trust your feelings."
	"But…"
	Turning to face the window again, she replied, "I’ll not say anything else
until you find what I am talking about."
	Sighing in disgust, Gabriel turned to face the horde of objects and set
upon his task.  As he gazed over the collection, the room seemed to suddenly
grow in size by thousands of feet.  Ever so slowly, he made his way through
the collection, careful to examine each item; but also careful to touch nothing.
	The first table he examined contained numerous Origami constructions.  Each
piece meticulously folded itself into the shapes of animals and creatures he
could never hope to identify.  The paper, although well preserved, had faded
slightly and gave the creatures an ancient feel.  <No,> he thought.
	Moving to the next, he came across dozens of crystals, fashioned into
baubles of every imaginable shape.  Sphere’s, cubes, animals, even a
fanciful dragon lined the table.  For a moment, he considered the dragon,
but stopped at the last second.  It was likely he would not get a second
chance at guessing, and he was not sure.  Reluctantly, he moved to the next
table.
	For what seemed like hours, he moved around the room, examining the
objects.  He had looked at old paintings, children’s sketches, worn out and
broken toys and a host of other items.  Books, their pages old and yellowed,
had lined many of the shelves and he had carefully examined each on, but
still, he felt that his choice was wrong.  Occasionally, he would glance at
his Primogen, but each time, it appeared as though she had become a statue;
silent and unmoving.
	Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of searching, he stumbled
across something he had not yet encountered on numerous other surfaces.  On
the table before him, surrounded by other oddities, was a large, leather
bound book; completely devoid of decorations.  Reaching out tentatively, he
opened the cover; he realized immediately, it was not a book, but a folder.
	Inside, he found page after page of photographs.  Most of them where in
color, but some where black and white; all of them where faded and
weathered, as though viewed every day for a century.  Looking around, he
realized that, throughout the room, this was the only thing that contained
pictures.  There were the paintings, but those were ancient… centuries older
than his Primogen.
	Hefting the album in his arms, he turned back to his Primogen and asked,
"Is this what you seek, my lady?"
	Turning quickly, she looked him over and, noting the album, nodded
silently.  "You choose well, Gabriel," she said.  "Bring it here."
	Eager to obey, Gabriel brought the album to her and laid it reverently upon
the table.  As he backed away, his Primogen gently ran her fingers over the
worn leather of the album; however, she refused to open it.
	"Do you know what these photographs are, Gabriel?"
	"No, my lady."
	Pulling a chair to the table, she sat quickly and picked up the album;
cradling it in her lap.  Leaning back, she said, "These are my memories,
Gabriel, my family and my friends."
	"Your family?" He asked.  To his surprise, the Primogen closed her eyes
lightly; a moment later, a single, bloody tear ran down her cheek.
	"These," she began, choking back a sob, "are the people I left behind when
I was embraced.  These are the people I left behind… for love."
	Gabriel stared at her, unsure of what to say.  Should he comfort her?
Should he stay silent?  Only his lover had ever been this kind and this open
to him before and the feeling left him stupefied.
	"Sit down, Gabriel," she commanded, motioning to a chair across from her.
"I have something I wish to tell you.  If… you are willing to listen."
	Taking the chair, Gabriel pulled it close to her and sat down quickly.
Leaning back, trying his best to get comfortable, he replied, "What is it
you wish to say?"
	"I wish to tell you a story, Gabriel.  Will you listen?"
	"I would be honored, my lady."
	Nodding silently, she placed the book back upon the table and retrieved her
wine glass.  "Before I begin, there is something else, I would like you to do."
	"What is it, my lady?" Asked Gabriel.  Although thinking of another delay
annoyed him, he felt an unwillingness to speak the annoyance. 
	"Please, do not call me ‘my lady,’ Gabriel," she pleaded.  "I wasn’t born
noble, and I don’t want to die with such a title."
	Surprised, Gabriel felt his brow knit together in interest.  "Very well,"
he replied.  "What would you have me call you?"
	Smiling, she took a sip of her wine before answering.  "Call me by my given
name," she said.  "Call me… Kasumi… Kasumi Tendo."
	"Very well, my l…. Kasumi."
	Leaning back slightly, Kasumi nodded again and took another sip of wine.
"Where to begin?" She asked herself aloud.  "Well… I guess, that it all
began with a funeral."

*********

	In a person’s life, they are constantly cursed by having good and bad
things happen to them; or so the saying went.  But that which does not kill
you can only make you stronger.  At least, that was what her mother had
always told her.
	But that wasn’t true!  It couldn’t be!  How could something so… so horrible
possibly strengthen anyone?
	All around her, the rain fell in a light, mist-like drizzle.  Dark gray
clouds hovered overhead in an ominous curtain that prevented the sun from
reaching down to kiss the ground upon which she stood.  And why should they
kiss the ground?  The ground was cold and empty.  Empty, except for the
tombstones that dotted the cemetery around her.
	Kasumi watched quietly as the coffin was slowly lowered into its final
resting place.  In her left hand, she held a black umbrella which barely
kept the rain from falling onto her small form.  In her right arm, she held
a sobbing Nabiki in a comforting, sisterly embrace.
	The embrace did not help Nabiki’s sobbing though.  And why should it?
Kasumi poured every ounce of comfort she could muster into the embrace, but
it did nothing to help when she herself felt as though she would burst into
tears any moment.
	A single tear fell from her cheek as she watched the coffin disappear into
the ground before her.  Lifting her small face, she gazed up at her father.
Like her, he carried an umbrella in one hand, while the other cradled a
crying Akane against his chest.
	Her father’s face was stoic, completely neutral.  Only his flushed features
and sad eyes gave any hint of the turmoil that raged inside him.  Why
couldn’t she be brave like her father?  Why did she have to cry all the time?
	Kasumi listened as the priest spoke some words over the grave.  Although
she understood the words, it was though she was not truly hearing them.  All
of the priest’s words seemed hollow; 
seemed – what was that word? – rehearsed!  It seemed like he’s spoken the
words more times than he cared to remember.
	"Mommy!" Nabiki sobbed into Kasumi’s arm.
	Carefully, Kasumi tightened her arm around her sister, trying to comforter
her.  But it did no good.  Their mother, the person that had always been
there to help them no matter what, was gone.  Again, the tears came
unbidden; this time in a rivulet that ran from her eyes to fall from her chin.
	Time seemed to pass in a blur, one moment, the coffin had been in front of
her.  The next moment, the priest was speaking as the coffin disappeared
from view.  The next thing she knew, she, her father and sisters where
mournfully walking from the cemetery.
	"Daddy?" She heard Akane mumble.  "Why did mommy go away?"
	The words struck Kasumi’s small frame like sharp stones.  Turning, she
quickly said, "Akane! Don’t ever say that!  Mom isn’t… she isn’t…"
	Her words trailed off as soon as they had formed.  She could not bring
herself to complete the sentence.
	"Kasumi," her father began.  "I know that it is hard, but we must accept
what has happened."
	"No!" She screamed.  "I don’t want to!  Mommy can’t be gone!"
	"Kasumi, please…" her father began.
	"No!" She screamed again.  
	Releasing Nabiki, Kasumi dropped the umbrella and fled into the storm.  As
she ran, she heard her father calling out to her but she ignored him.  If he
couldn’t help her mother, how did he expect to help her?
	She ran for what seemed like hours until she collapsed against the side of
a building.  The moment she let herself fall to the ground, her muscles
cramped painfully as her lungs burned.  The ran around her fell like tiny
stones against her small body, each drop stinging as it made contact.
	The black dress she wore had long since become streaked with mud.  The
soaked material clung to her body tightly.  The long drenched garment no
longer kept the cold of the rain from reaching her skin and she shivered.  
	Looking up, she found herself staring at the gate to the cemetery they had
just left.  Her mother!  Her mother would know what to do!
	Standing, Kasumi once again ran against the rain into the gates of the
cemetery.
	The interior of the cemetery seemed cold, much colder than the exterior.
The chill of the rain urged her to hurry her legs, painfully cramped from
running however, would not allow her to do so.  All around her, the cold,
granite and marble tombstones stared back at her accusingly.  
	Bringing her hands to her chest, Kasumi hugged herself tightly, trying to
gain some warmth from her freezing skin.  Unfortunately, she could find
none.  The rain seemed to have frozen every nerve within her.
	Turning her head quickly, she gazed at the tombstones in worry.  They all
looked the same!  They all looked cold, gray and lonely.  Panic began to
well up inside her as she fought hard to find her mother.  How could she
possibly forget where her mother was?!
	That was when she spotted it, a small patch of bare, muddy earth marking
the place before a tombstone.
	Rushing forward, Kasumi made her way to the spot.  Upon reaching it, she
kneeled down in the mud; for once not caring how dirty her clothes where
becoming.  At that moment, the rain bore down harder upon her, nearly
blinding her.  
	Her rain soaked hair fell across her eyes, obscuring the name on the
marker.  Angrily, she brushed her hair away, but the rain quickly pushed it
back over her eyes.  She tried again with the same result.  Reaching out
with her hands, she traced the Kanji of the tombstone.
	"Ki - mi - ko," she said quietly, reading the name.  It was her mother’s name.
	Oh Kami-sama!  Someone, somewhere was playing a cruel joke on her.  Her
mother had always been good, had always taught her to be good and help
others.  Good people didn’t belong on in a place like this!  The was a place
for bad people!  Her mother wasn’t bad!  She didn’t belong in the cemetery!
	For the first time in her life, Kasumi felt angry, sad and abandoned.  The
one person she had always been able to count on wasn’t there anymore.
Rearing back she slammed her tiny fists into the still soft earth as she
pleaded for someone to make her horrible nightmare end.
	Suddenly, the rain stopped.
	Looking up, Kasumi could see the rain falling down around her, but not on
her.  Casting her gaze upward, she saw a small umbrella being held above
her.  Turning, she found herself gazing into the eyes of someone she had
never seen before.
	"Are you alright?" Asked the man.
	Instinctively, Kasumi backpedaled until her back was against the cold
tombstone.  She knew she wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers.  And the man
certainly seemed like a stranger.
	Gazing at him, Kasumi could see what she dubbed to be a kind expression
etched onto his pale face.  Brown hair fell down around blue-gray eyes as he
held the umbrella above her protectively.  As she watched, the man removed
his jacket, revealing a red shirt beneath, and passed it toward her.
Immediately, the rain poured onto him, soaking his shirt along with the rest
of him.
	"Here," he said.
	Kasumi looked at the jacket in a mix of surprise, terror and confusion.
"I… I’m not supposed to take things from strangers," Kasumi replied timidly.
	To her surprise, the man smiled and replied, "That’s very good advice.  Who
gave it to you?"
	"My…my mom."