DEVIL'S INDIFFERENCE
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A Ranma fic by Cass
My heartfelt thanks to GSL who actually pushed me to write this out and was
nice enough to wait until 1 am to pre-read my fic. Then we talked till 2am,
discussing the fic. Her suggestions made this a much better fic than it
originally was in my vision. Three cheers to my favourite pre-reader!
Please C&C!
You can reach me at
chiaty@singnet.com.sg
This fic should be uploaded soon to my homepage at
http://web.singnet.com.sg/~chiaty/fanfics.htm
Disclaimer: I don't own the Ranma characters. I'm not making money out of
this fic.
< > = character's thoughts
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'In 999 AD, the Catholic Church predicted that the end of the world would
occur in 1000 AD. Needless to say, it didn't happen, much to the chagrin
of wealthy lords who had given away their assets as a final attempt to gain
favor.
Centuries later, Nostramus predicted that a great king of terror would come
from the skies in July 1999 and hence bring forth Armageddon.
He was wrong. The demise of the world as we knew it actually began on 18th
November 1999. An ordinary Thursday. Who would have thought?'
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18th NOVEMBER 1999 (AFTERNOON)
JAPAN, NERIMA
OUTSIDE A LOCAL CINEMA
"Calm down, guys. I wasn't on a date with her. We just happened to sit
next to each other in the cinema. A mere coincidence," explained Ranma as
he backed away from the angry crowd of fiancees.
"And she just happened to rest her head on your shoulder," added Ukyou
icily.
Ranma visibly relaxed as he smiled at his childhood friend. "Yeah, I knew
you would understand. When the monsters appeared on the screen, she got
scared and that's why she leaned towards me."
"Do you think we are idiots?" shouted the trio as they wielded various
weapons. Akane grabbing a baseball bat, Shampoo with her bonbori and Ukyou
doing a few experimental slices with her giant spatula.
The pig-tailed martial artist gulped and slowly began plotting his retreat.
He might be the best martial artist in Japan but in the face of his three
fuming fiancees, there was only one thing he could do... RUN! Only to find
his retreat route blocked by Kuno Tatewaki aka annoying upperclassman and
Mousse.
"You don't deserve someone like Shampoo. Let's get this over with once and
for all."
"How dare you entrap such beauties, Saotome. I shall defeat you or my name
isn't Blue Thunder!"
<Great, the full lynch mob is in attendance. Why did I get out of bed this
morning?> he wondered as he kicked Kuno straight into the arms of Mousse and
fled.
Knowing that the crowd of fiancees and their admirers would undoubtedly be
on his trail, Ranma tried to explain again. "I don't even know the girl,
honest. She was frightened by the monsters. If she was Akane, then the
monsters would have ran away in fear."
"Ranma, you jerk!" screamed Akane as she threw a trashcan at him.
Nimbly dodging the stinking missile, along with the metal chains courtesy
of one male Amazon, Ranma ran for the outskirts of town. <Maybe they will
tire out soon.>
And so the teenagers cut a path through the crowded afternoon streets of
Nerima, passing the commercial zone and zoomed past the tiny suburban
houses, causing mild chaos. The Nerima residents were experienced enough to
run and hide whenever a mass of teenagers pissed off at one Saotome Ranma
were heading their way, so no one was injured. Sadly, the same could not be
said for their cars and houses.
Frustrated by their inability to capture Ranma, nobody noticed the road
sign that stated "Sadako Town, 5 miles".
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SAME DAY
JAPAN, SADAKO
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Sadako Museum of History & Arts. I'm
your tour guide for this wonderful journey back to the past. My name is
Namie. This month, we're honoured to house 150 priceless artifacts on loan
from the China government. We have divided them into three sections:
Historical, Religious and Mythological. If you will follow me please," said
the young tour guide cheerfully as she waved a small red flag above her.
The twenty or so bunch of adults and children, noisily followed. Only a
few of them were tourists, eagerly snapping shots of anything and everything
that caught their eye, even the bright green public payphone. The majority
of the tour group were natives, taking the advantage of a public holiday to
enrich their children with Chinese culture. Anything would be better than
letting their brains fester watching television and playing computer games.
"Here we have relics from Tang Dynasty," recited Namie as she led them into
a room filled with objects of various shapes and sizes enclosed in glass
cases. Sidestepping the smaller displays, she focused on a large open
coffin placed in the center of the room. In it, rested a male with pale
almost whitish complexion and ruddy lips. He was dressed in a dark blue
oriental robe similar to an Eunuch's. But what drew people's attention was
the scrap of yellow paper stuck on his forehead. "This is believed to be a
vampire. Not the Count Dracula type but rather a Chinese vampire that
hopped with his arms outstretched."
Several adults and children snickered as they leaned closer to the glass
case enclosing the coffin.
"Now, kids. I wouldn't come to close to it. Folklore has it that the
yellow talisman on its forehead is the only thing keeping it asleep. If the
talisman was removed, then it would be awakened and suck each and everyone
of us dry."
Noticing the disbelieving expressions, Namie began telling a convoluted and
scary vampire tale which 'happened' to her great grandmother.
Just then a commotion was heard outside. Everyone turned back in time to
see a boy running through the open doors. Close behind him, was a crowd of
angry teens. Their angry voices and shouts melded into a cacophony of
indecipherable noise.
"Don't you guys ever give up?" shouted the first guy as he ran past the
curious tourists.
A dagger landing two inches from his feet was the only reply.
Someone screamed and scrambled for the nearest exit. Others attempted to
follow, running in every conceivable direction. The Nerima gang paid them
no heed, the frustration Ranma caused them for two whole years finally
reached its peak. No more waiting for Ranma to make up his mind. No more
pining away for him or his fiancees. <He must choose one of us today!>
thought the girls in unison. <We must defeat him once and for all!> the
guys swore.
Tiny spatulas whizzed by Ranma and landed on the wall, cutting the huge
imperial yellow banner, proclaiming the China artifact exhibit. Shampoo
sped by, in her haste knocking over a huge Tang vase. Namie watched blankly
as the vase rocked from side to side and slowly tumbled off its perch,
spinning down, down, down to the marble floor. Propelled into movement, the
young tour guide fell to the floor, her hands outstretched, catching the
vase. Heaving a sigh of relief, she sat up, clutched the vase protectively
to her chest and watched as the damages piled up.
"Hah! Missed me!" proclaimed Ranma as he dodged, not one but three, flying
mallets.
"Saotome! I shall defeat you!" yelled Mousse, glaring at a statue.
"You blind duck! You're not even looking at the right direction!" taunted
Ranma.
Letting loose a guttural scream of rage, Mousse turned slightly to his
left, in the direction of Ranma's voice. Metal chains with spikes at the
ends flew out of the confines of his silken long sleeves and sped towards
the target. Ranma calmly stood his ground, only leaping away at the very
last moment. The Chinese male ground his teeth in anger and hurriedly
pulled the metal chains back, unconcerned with the large gorges left in the
floor. He aimed again, this time sending his chains flying, in a fan-like
pattern, hoping to cover all his bases. One of the chains sped towards a
rectangular display case, its spike crashing through the glass, seemingly
missing the artifact stored within by a few millimetres.
"Damn it!" swore Mousse as he, along with the others, gave chase to the
fleeing Saotome Ranma.
Mere seconds after the Nerima gang had left the museum through a
human-shaped hole courtesy of Shampoo, the security guards and the local
police ran in. <Late as usual> thought Namie, as she was soon surrounded by
a handful of cops and security personnel asking a barrage of questions. The
rush of adrenaline fading, she fainted, escaping the task of answering their
questions for the moment at least.
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Angry voices pulled Namie from her uneasy slumber, though it took her
awhile to differentiate real voices from dream ones. Sitting upright on the
sofa, she surveyed her surroundings. A wooden table, a PC, several chairs
and cupboards. An ordinary office. What set it apart from the others were
the small objects scattered on the shelves and table. To her untrained eye,
they seemed like genuine rare pieces of someone's collection. In no mood to
play detective, she stood up, predicting that the police would want to speak
to her. Stepping out of the office, she stared dumbfounded at the sheer
number of policemen standing or crouching. It was as though the police
station was temporarily relocated here. In the face of so many uniformed
cops, some shooting photographs, some collecting evidence and others talking
to witnesses, the damage to the museum seemed more severe.
A man approached, flashing his badge. "Miss Namie? Could you please
follow me, I would like to ask you some questions regarding this incident."
Namie nervously complied, following him to a more isolated area in the
room. Attention diverted, she didn't notice the sign on the office door she
exited - "Mr. Masaharu Fukuyama, Curator".
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This was his pet project, one he had spent a whole year persuading his
superiors and the China government on. Bringing 150 religious and mystical
artifacts from China dating back to the Tang Dynasty and showcasing them
throughout Japan, starting with his own small museum in Sadako district,
thereby increasing the interest in Chinese culture and history in the
younger generation and fostering the ties between the two countries.
<But now...> he thought as he turned the gold box in his hands, revealing
the tiny hairline fracture caused by an accident earlier today. It was
considered to be one of a kind, originally possessed by the family of a
high-ranking official for several generations, before it was presented to
the Tang emperor. The ten centimetre by eight centimetre box was made of
solid gold with tiny Chinese words engraved on all sides. Exactly, what the
words meant, he was not sure. A poem of some sort detailing a great battle,
perhaps. What was strange about the box was that nobody today could open
it. X-rays had revealed it was empty, yet its weight was heavier than an
empty gold box of similar dimensions. His index finger slowly traced out
the hairline fracture, cutting across two of the Chinese words. The damage
was slight enough not to be easily noticeable. In fact, unless a person
knew what he was looking for, he could easily miss it, even with the aid of
a magnifying glass.
<If the China government finds out about the damage and demands
compensation, even though our insurance could cover it, our museum's
reputation will be ruined. And no one will ever trust me to hold
exhibitions again.>
"Excuse me, Mr. Masaharu Fukuyama. Have you assessed the damage done to
this exhibition?" It was the District Head of Police, looking as though he
would much rather be swimming in a icy lake than be here right now. Not
that the curator didn't understand why. The potential fall-out from this
incident could be huge. The District Head would be facing pressure from the
media, the Japanese government and the Chinese government to catch the
culprits, once the news got out.
"Mr. Fukuyama. Were any of the artifacts damaged?" he repeated.
Fukuyama rubbed the crack again as he answered, "No. Only the display
cases, the banner and some of the marble tiles were damaged."
"Can you give me an estimate of the damage and a list of the objects on
display here?"
"Sure, I'll give you a copy of the catalogue in my office later. As for
the estimate, my assistant will be more able to provide you with a more
precise figure. I'm lousy with figures."
"Any reason why someone would want to ruin your exhibition?" probed the
policeman.
He paused. "No. Have you found out the identities of the uh... vandals?
We have security cameras all over the museum, it shouldn't be too difficult
to find out who's responsible," snapped the curator. Realising the
insensitivity of his words, he quickly apologised. "I'm sorry. It's just
that it would reflect badly of this museum and-"
"I understand. The truth is that the culprits were very smart,
disconnecting the security cameras in this room once they entered. All we
have to go on is a blurry picture of a man with a pigtail, identified by the
witnesses as one of the parties. The witnesses couldn't even agree on the
number, let alone come up with a good description of them."
"Then it's hopeless."
"It is too early to give up. Rest assured, we are doing our best."
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22TH NOVEMBER 1999
JAPAN, SADAKO
Midnight. All was quiet in the museum, save for the fading footsteps of
the middle-aged security guard. He turned back once, reassuring himself
that the exhibits were safe, before continuing his rounds. Since the fiasco
regarding a fight breaking out here in broad daylight two days ago, the
management became obsessed with security. If something happened on his
shift, suffice it to say, he would be out of a job. His stomach grumbled
for a midnight snack and the guard hurried off, never noticing how the
moon's rays seemed to concentrate on a single exhibit. The rectangular
golden box glowed eerily red for a second and then returned to normal.
Grayish smoke oozed out of the tiny hairline fracture in the box, filled the
glass display case and spread throughout the room. Like a sentient entity,
it slowly permeated the entire museum, seeking human presence.
Eventually, the smoke found the guards sitting amicably in the pantry,
sharing red bean cakes and cups of green tea. Smoke pooled around the feet
of the men, so thick it actually seemed solid. Tendrils of smoke crept
upwards, following the contours of the men's bodies. No one saw the smoke
or felt the wrongness of the situation or heard the warnings whispered by
the trees. Unwittingly, the men inhaled the smoke, as easily as they
breathed in air. Someone said a joke just then and they all laughed.
Minutes later, they would continue patrolling as if nothing happened.
Meanwhile, tendrils of smoke forced its way out of the museum, through the
tiny gaps between the doors and the ground. Aided by the sudden gust of
wind, it escaped into the night, in the direction of the residential area.
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27TH NOVEMBER 1999 (EARLY MORNING)
Fuji stifled a moan as he unlocked his apartment door and entered. He
always hated the night shift, being awake when everybody asleep was asleep
and finally sleeping when the entire neighbour was up and about. He didn't
bother to announce that he was back, no sense in waking his family up.
Everyone deserved to sleep in on weekends, everybody except him that is.
"Daddy!" shouted Kimiko in delight as she ran to her father and hugged him.
She sounded way too perky for his liking. "I've got an A in the Maths
test in my cram school. You said if I got an A, you'll bring me to
Sanrioland. Pulling his arms, she dragged him towards the exit. "Let's go
now!"
"No," he replied flatly, gently pushing Kimiko away. "I'm not going to
earn money only to give it all away to that creator of Hello Kitty, Tusji
Shintaro. 'Hello Kitty'. What a stupid name! What a stupid cat! Now let
me sleep in peace!" He stormed off to his bedroom.
"Daddy's just tired, that's all. We'll go next Saturday instead, okay?"
comforted Kimiko's mother, as she stared at Fuji.
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28TH NOVEMBER 1999 (EVENING)
Fuji sipped at his miso soup in sullen silence. Sensing his bad mood,
Nanami and Kimiko kept quiet as well. Suddenly, Fuji grimaced and spit out
his mouthful of soup. "It's too salty!"
"No, it isn't," countered his wife, Nanami as she sipped her own bowl of
soup.
"Don't try to deny it! What kind of wife are you if you can't even cook a
simple miso soup well?"
"It tastes the same as it always did. You never complained before," she
calmly replied. "But if you think it is too salty, I'll pour some hot water
into the soup." She stood up and reached for his bowl.
Growling his displeasure, Fuji knocked over the bowl, spilling its contents
onto the dining table. "Don't bother."
"What is wrong with you today? You've been in a bad mood the whole day and
now you're upset over miso soup." She placed her hand over his and asked,
"Did something happened at work yesterday night?"
He grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed hard. "Nothing happened. It just
hit me what a terrible wife you are. Why I put up with you all these years
is a mystery to me."
Tears sprung unbidden to her eyes as she looked at the man she married.
"Why are you saying that? I love you and you love me and Kimiko."
"Shut the hell up! I'm sick of your whining!" He slapped her face, the
sound thunderous to everyone present. Kimiko shut her eyes and hugged
herself, whimpering in shock and fear.
"Oh my god," whispered Fuji in shock. He hugged his wife tightly. "I
didn't mean to. I'm so sorry, Nanami. I'm so sorry. I don't know what
came over me. I love you, Nanami. Please forgive me," he pleaded.
"Let go of me!" screamed his wife, tears streaming down her cheeks as she
struggled in his arms. Instantly, he released her and stepped back. "Stay
away from me!" she warned as she grabbed Kimiko and ran towards the door.
"No! Nanami! Don't leave me, please," he begged. His mood suddenly
shifted and his eyes reflected rage, pure animalistic rage. "Don't you dare
leave me! Don't you dare walk away from me!" He took a couple of huge
strides and harshly pulled her arm back. Relishing the look of fear and
betrayal on her beautiful face, he plunged his knife into her chest. She
gasped once, then crumpled onto the floor. Fuji blinked and looked at his
right hand. When did he pick up a knife? He stared at the knife, blood
dripping from its edge. Blood. Nanami's blood. Dropping the knife as if
it was a poisonous cobra, he screamed.
Squatting beside her unconscious mother, Kimiko cried and begged for her to
wake up. <He must pay for hurting Mommy!> Kimiko's fingers slowly reached
for the bloody knife. She could clearly hear the siren call of the knife.
It wanted justice, revenge for hurting her mother. It beckoned to her,
singing promises that she was merely doing what her mother would have
wanted.
She shook her head in confusion and the voice faded away. She grasped her
mother's arm with both hands and wailed in anguish.
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29TH NOVEMBER 1999 (NIGHT)
"Yesterday night, a man was arrested for assaulting his wife who still
remains in a coma. The exact details are unknown to us at this time but the
man apparently went on record stating that he felt no remorse for his
actions. The man, described by friends to be friendly and kind, worked as a
security guard in the Sadako Museum..."
"How horrible," gasped Kasumi.
"...Once crowned the most crime-free town of 1996, the Sadako police had
their hands full with thirty unrelated criminal incidents today alone..."
Akane frowned. "That's so strange. I remember Sayuri telling me how
peaceful and friendly the townspeople were. She had lived there for ten
years before moving here. Kids could play out in the streets nearby at
night, without fear. Everyone is nice to one another-"
"Not like someone we all know who has the urge to mallet everything that
offends her," interjected Ranma.
Akane glared at the freeloading troublemaker. "Who exactly are you
referring to?" Her icy tone in direct contrast to the anger boiling inside.
"Who else?" countered Ranma. "You should know who I'm referring to. If
you don't, then you're delusional as well."
"Ranma no baka!" yelled the youngest Tendo as her hand reached to give him
a tight slap.
"Don't start a fight that you're sure to lose, Akane," he sneered as he
caught her wrist before her hand connected with his face. With that
warning, he slowly pushed her wrist back beyond its normal position.
Kasumi stared at Ranma in shock. "What are you doing?" <If only father
and Uncle Saotome were at home, then they could stop him.> "Please let go
of her hand."
Beside her, Nabiki sat impassively, viewing the situation. She made no
move to stop Ranma, although inwardly she was worried for her sister's
safety.
Swallowing her screams of pain, Akane glared defiantly at her fiance. She
was a martial artist and a martial artist never showed her weaknesses. How
would she be able to inherit the dojo if she couldn't even escape from this
hold. Her free hand tensed up as she threw a punch.
Moments before it connected, Ranma evaded the blow and found himself
staring at the frightened expression in Kasumi's eyes. That look brought
out the protective instincts buried deep within the young martial artist and
he released Akane's hand. In a daze, he watched silently as Akane massaged
her aching wrist. To his experienced eye, it seemed to be only sprained.
Kasumi quickly led Akane into the bathroom where the first aid supplies were
kept. But he couldn't let her walk off without attempting an explanation.
What he would say though, he had no inkling. How could he tell her that he
didn't mean it, when he wasn't sure himself? Still, he had to try.
"Akane."
She stopped in her tracks but refused to face him.
"I... I didn't know what came over me. I didn't mean to... I'm sorry.
Really I am."
For several long moments, the silence dragged on between them. Ranma
fidgeted, knowing instinctively that how she reacted would affect their
relationship irreversibly. He could hear the ticking sounds of the wall
clock's hands moving. One second. Two seconds. Three... Forty...A hundred
seconds.
Akane turned back and stared into his cornflower blue eyes. Her piercing
gaze seemingly able to penetrate deep into the hidden caverns of his heart.
Ranma's heart pounded. <Could she really see how I feel? That as much as I
regretted what I did, I liked it even more? That I think she deserved it?>
"I believe you. Our argument just got out of hand."
Ranma released the breath he was subconsciously holding.
"Come on Akane, we better put some ointment on that wrist," urged Kasumi.
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FROM THE DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI
DATED 1ST DECEMBER 1999
I never suspected anything was wrong. True, the crime rate was increasing
rapidly but who cares? Those crimes occurred in other towns. Even when
Nerima suddenly had a spate of criminal activity, I was unconcerned. So
long as nothing happened to the people I cared about or had business
dealings with, the world was fine and dandy to my eyes. It was this kind of
indifference that would be the thread that unravels us all.
It was only after the 'tea incident' as I liked to call it, that I finally
saw the light or rather the darkness that had shrouded Nerima.
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EARLIER
"I'm home," uttered Nabiki as she walked into the living room. Soun and
Genma being too engrossed in their game of shoji, didn't respond. Kasumi,
looked up from her dusting and smiled. "Welcome back, Nabiki."
Nabiki sat down on the sofa, a manga in hand. Idly, she flipped the pages
of the manga while waiting for her favourite drama serial to come on.
Soun turned away from his shogi board for an instant, asking Kasumi to
prepare more tea for them.
Kasumi stared at the two grown men. "Why don't you get it yourself,
father?" she spoke in a sugary voice. Voice returning to normal, she
continued, "Or is your butt glued to the cushion?! It is always 'Kasumi,
get this. Kasumi, I want this. Kasumi, I'm hungry. Kasumi, I need hot
water.' Well, Kasumi is sick and tired of being everyone's slave! From now
on, you get your own damn tea!"
"Kasumi?"
"I'm sorry, father. I don't know what came over me. I... No, I don't feel
sorry at all. I feel... liberated. If you want to eat or drink something,
get it yourself!" She glared at the two males and they visibly winced.
Still in a bad mood, she stomped back into her room.
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FROM THE DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI
DATED 3RD DECEMBER 1999
Who was this imposter wearing the shell of my eldest sister? The Kasumi I
know would never talk back to her elders. Whenever she was sick, she still
insisted on taking care of us, doing the housework and cooking. Where had
that Kasumi gone?
You might think that perhaps she was tired and needed a break. By
tomorrow, she would be back to her motherly self and delicious smells would
waft out from the kitchen. You're wrong.
Oh, the clothes still got washed - Kasumi's clothes that is. Dishes were
still prepared - just not for the rest of us. Polite requests for her to
do the housework were met with a "You got hands too, why don't you do it?!
Leave me alone!"
As if a fog had been lifted, I noticed that Akane and Ranma were quarreling
more often than usual, with rising violence. Akane would try to mallet him
but he would deflect the blow and twist her arm or punch her. Akane ended
up bruised and bloodied more often than not. What was equally surprising
was the reactions of father. Always fiercely protective of us, he now
ignored the fights. He didn't even cry at the sight of his youngest
daughter being injured. Uncle Saotome? He just took advantage of the
distraction, to steal his son's food. The food was usually takeout that
paled in comparison to Kasumi's home-cooked meals but no one was willing to
try Akane's cooking.
When Kasumi's behaviour did a 180 degrees turn, no one else seemed to care.
They asked her to do the housework, she refused. They demanded she
perform her housekeeping tasks, she shouted back. No one asked her if she
was alright, as if the most important thing was whether meals get cooked,
house dusted and rising piles of dirty laundry cleaned.
Being the concerned sister that I was, I inquired if she was feeling okay.
Her reply? "I'm be more than fine after you get out of my face. Looking at
you makes me want to puke." And then she slammed her bedroom door shut.
That remark hurt more than I could ever admit.
I hurriedly got out of the house, only to run right into a fight between
Kuno-baby and Ranma. For once not swinging his trademark wooden bokken, he
swung at Ranma with a real Samurai's sword. His ease with the weapon, the
way he handled himself and the moves he made, calculated to cause maximum
injury to the other party, all added to make him a larger threat than usual.
Without a weapon, Ranma seemed to be at a disadvantage but he didn't back
down. As per usual, I called out for bets from the onlookers. Counting the
money and watching the ongoing fight simultaneously, I felt... different. I
would make more profit if Kuno won, so I began cheering for him.
The two circled each other warily, assessing each other's weaknesses. Kuno
made no pompous, self-righteous speech about defeating the evil sorcerer and
freeing the maidens. Instead, he pounced silently, sword slashing down onto
his opponent.
"Kill him, Kuno-baby!" I shouted, in the heat of the moment.
That cry prompted others to chant, "Kill! Kill! Kill!"
What have I become? When did making a couple of hundred more yen become
more important than a single human life? When did I become such a monster?
No! That is not me! I hurriedly dropped all the money and fled.
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5TH DECEMBER 1999
JAPAN, NERIMA
TENDO RESIDENCE
Nabiki walked out of the kitchen, carrying a cup of instant noodles.
Pushing aside the magazines, empty packets of snacks and dirty laundry, she
sat down. TV Remote in one hand, she channel surfed until she reached a
news programme - The Japan News Hour.
A female newscaster in a trendy business suit announced, "Welcome back to
Japan News Hour. Now the global news. Malaysians today were to cast votes
to select a government that will lead them to the next millennium. Yet the
voting booths remained deserted. People in the streets stated that they did
not care who became their political leaders, that all political leaders were
corrupted anyway.
"Still on Malaysia, a fight broke out among the parents of a renown primary
school's sports meet yesterday. The fight started when two runners tripped
and fell down. Angry parents thought they must have been pushed and thus
began arguing with each other. It soon escalated into mass violence as
parents, teachers and school children fought each other.
"Crimes rates are on a rise in all Asian countries. Specifically, there
were five hundred murders reported in Singapore alone yesterday. In
Indonesia, one thousand. China, one thousand and two. Philippines, six
hundred and fifty. Some experts believe that this is the due to the
increasing violent programmes shown on TV and the Western influence. Others
believe that this is the beginning of Armageddon.
"Our mobile news crew informs us that right now, a riot is occurring in a
shopping mall in Tokyo. Miko, our roving reporter is now on the scene.
Miko?"
The scene changed to the shopping mall where shoppers were punching each
other and swinging objects, like their bags at one another. The image was
shaky and sometimes blurry as the cameraman dodged the crowd of violent
Japanese. Some shoppers, including toddlers, lain on the floor, unmoving.
The image focused on one child, no more than ten years old, plunging the
knife into a motionless adult male repeatedly. He smiled manically at the
camera and stood up, his knife dripping blood onto the marble floor. It was
obvious who his next intended victim was - the cameraman.
"Miko? Please describe to us the situation." asked the newscaster in the
studio, her voice remained calm and emotionless.
A man, waving a butcher knife, knocked over the boy and continued on,
shouting promises of death to all women who had rejected him. Others
followed, trampling over the boy.
The image suddenly moved, nauseatingly fast, panning at random directions.
It bounced once and then stopped, focusing on a man fending off three
screaming housewives.
"That's our cameraman, Yutaka!" exclaimed the newscaster. "Can he take on
all three at once? Apparently not." The man was being pummeled by an
umbrella and then kicked in the shins. "I told him to go for self-defense
lessons but he never listened. He must be regretting it now."
Aghast at the scene unfolding and disgusted at the newscaster, Nabiki
switched off the TV. She left her half-eaten cup of instant noodles on the
table, her appetite gone.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Hiding herself in a secluded corner of the local library, Nabiki scanned
the several weeks old newspapers. The rising occurrence of violence began
in Japan and spread to the world, that much she was certain of. But from
where in Japan exactly, did this originate? How did it spread? And what
being did this compulsion towards anger and rage coming from?
Finally, she hit jackpot. An article detailing the macabre ongoings at
Sadako Town. That was the first reference to the escalating violence in
Japan.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
21TH DECEMBER 1999
A rugged youth walked past the deserted street, one hand clutching a
stuffed pig, another hand holding onto a closed umbrella. Viewing the
smoldering ashes of several buildings and the banged up cars with no
windscreens and slashed tires, he wondered if he had travelled into a war
zone. <Maybe I'm in East Timor> thought Ryouga. Lengthening his strides,
he walked onwards, bypassing a darkened side alley. Instinctively, he
stopped and backtracked.
He could scarcely believe his eyes when he entered the alley. The corpse
of a naked woman draped over several trashbags greeted him. From her
greyish complexion, it was obvious she was deceased but still he knelt by
the woman and took her pulse. Nothing.
Retrieving a worn jacket from his backpack, he covered the woman's nudity
with it. That was all he could do for her.
For an hour, he walked, without seeing anybody. He could feel eyes on him
but there was no one there. Spooked by the sense of foreboding and eminent
danger, he picked up his pace.
<Finally!> exclaimed Ryouga as the backs of three teenage boys came into
view. "Excuse, can you tell me, which way to Japan? I'm going to Nerima."
One of the boys turned to look at him and growled, "Stay out of our
business!"
The speaker seemed vaguely familiar but no name came to mind. Then Ryouga
walked closer and saw what they were doing - kicking a man.
"Hey! What are you doing?!"
"We warned you. Now you're going to share his fate!" The boy's clothes
were spotted with flecks of brownish red, blood no doubt. With that, the
trio attacked all at once.
Ryouga growled and managed to defeat them, although they seemed stronger
and more resilient than their scrawny frames would suggest. He ran towards
the injured man, moaning in pain. "Mister?"
Suddenly, the man pounced onto Ryouga, intent on pummeling him.
"Hey!" shouted Ryouga as he blocked blow after blow. "I just saved you!"
His words fell on deaf ears. Seeing no way out, he knocked the man
unconscious.
Eager to get out of this strange place, he ran past the next few people he
met, only stopping to peer at the road signs. "Java Street?" read Ryouga
out loud. "But that's near Akane's house. That means, this is Nerima!"
If he remembered correctly, a left turn would bring him in view of Tendo's
house. However, he remembered wrong. He found himself walking in the
direction of the Nekohanten instead.
Deciding that he might as well get some dinner, he entered the restaurant.
There were only a handful of patrons, all devouring their food in huge
mouthfuls, their eyes casting wary glances at each other. Shampoo and
Mousse were nowhere in sight. Sitting down on a vacant seat, he waited for
Cologne to notice him. But she didn't. Stomach growling, he approached the
elderly woman instead. "Cologne."
She didn't respond, absorbed in her task of systematically plucking
feathers, one at a time, from a protesting duck, whose wings kept flailing
about.
"Cologne." He tried again to get her attention. Just then, he noticed a
pair of spectacles, its lenses broken, on the table. Aware of its
implications, he tried to intervene. Only to be awarded with a stare from
the Amazon elder. A stare that conveyed the thoughts of a savage beast
which controlled her now. No guilt, no pain, only a warning that he was
invading on her turf. He slowly backed off, fingers feeling for glasses of
hot water. That only made Cologne grip the duck's neck harder, almost to
the point of crushing it. "No," whispered Ryouga. <What had happened to
everyone? What about Akane? Was she affected as well?>
"Leave," Cologne demanded.
Ryouga fled the scene, hating himself for his cowardice but realising the
futility of engaging Cologne in battle. Tears streaming down, he paid no
heed to his surroundings, letting his heart guide the way to Akane.
When he actually made it to the Tendo's front gate within ten minutes, he
didn't feel triumphant, only dreading and worrying about what he might walk
into. If everyone in Nerima is acting violent, there is no reason why
Akane, Kasumi or Ranma will be any different. Fervently wishing that this
was not so, he walked into the house.
Disregarding the obvious disarray the house was in, he walked past the
empty kitchen and opened a door, only to slam the door shut again. The
bathroom had not been washed for weeks!
Filled with a sense of urgency, he yelled out, "Akane! Akane! Are you
here? Its Ryouga! Kasumi! Ranma!" There was no response. He didn't felt
disappointed though, as if subconsciously, he had already known that the
house was deserted.
Rushing up the stairs, he yanked open the first door he saw. Empty. Not
Akane's room either. He turned to leave when a lavender envelope stating
'Read Me Please' caught his eye. Didn't he see one on the stairs and
another in the hallway? Curiosity peaked, he opened the envelope and read
the letter.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
'Congratuations, whoever you are.
You actually care enough to read this letter. I was seriously beginning to
doubt if anyone would care. Or perhaps, this letter would never be read, in
which case I would have wasted all this ink for nothing.
My name is Tendo Nabiki. Perhaps you've heard of me? Knowing me, you
might think that this is one of my moneymaking schemes and that I'm probably
hiding somewhere videotaping your actions. Let me assure you, I am
perfectly serious about what I'm going to tell you. Dead serious. If you
do not know me at all, then please ignore the above lines.
Have you seen what the outside world looks like right now, with all the
crime and mayhem? There is no kinship, no friendship and no love. Only
hate, anger, self-interest. The baser instincts of mankind. The
destructiveness innate that will destroy us all.
Back in the Tang Dynasty, an evil spirit called Xue Mo Wang possessed every
human being in a small town, ordering them to do its bidding. You see, it
was not content to be dead. It wanted to breathe, to hear his heart beating
and to walk amongst the living. But there was no way it could achieve its
wish. So it sought to accomplish the next best thing. Destroy the world by
spreading its hatred, rage and bitterness to all. As more people become its
puppets of rage, its powers grew. And as its powers grew, it was able to
spread its influence to even more people. And so the cycle began, until it
was defeated or at the night when yin was greatest, its powers expand
thousandfold and his control over the world would be complete.
Unfortunately, the greatest Taoist priest of his time, Mao Da Fang got wind
of Xue Mo Wang's plans and defeated the latter after a furious battle.
Priest Mao had no more strength left to banish it to hell and could only
trap the evil spirit in a gold box, with the magic spell that trapped him
inside for all eternity, inscribed on the sides of the box. With his dying
breath, he inscribed the story and left this warning: If somehow the spell
was destroyed, the spirit will once again roam free amongst the living. May
that day never come.
Later on, this golden box changed owners many times, until finally, it came
into the hands of the curator of Sadako museum. It was part of the exhibit
of Chinese Historical and Mystical Artifacts. Somehow, it must have been
broken, the spell was rendered inactive and the evil spirit was freed. How
the box was broken, I do not know. But I do know that Ranma and the gang
were responsible for the vandalism that occurred in that museum on 18th
November.
Cologne believed me, back when she still had control over her own emotions.
She had heard of that tale back when she was a mere child. Unfortunately,
she had no idea how to defeat this entity, offering only vague
half-remembered poems about his first defeat.
I know I had yet to offer irrefutable proof of my suspicions. Unless
someone ventures into the Mayhem central (Sadako District) and sees for
himself the state of the golden prison, my theory is unproven. But take a
good look around you and tell me if you can think of another plausible
reason why suddenly everyone changed. Why family members would gleefully
kill each another? Why others would stand around and watch impassively?
Have you felt the compulsion to wound, to maim, to kill or watch the life
drain out of another?
I have. I lived with that feeling, that need for days now. If I let down
my guard just a little, I'm sure I'll never be the same again. So I force
myself to feel the hurt, the pain that defines reality these days. For if
I'm sad, if I'm crying, then I know that I'm still me.
I'm going to Sadako tomorrow. The key to defeating his hold on us all must
be there in the box. As I sit here, thinking of what to pack, it hits me
all of a sudden that this is no longer my home. A home is where your loved
ones are, a place where you feel loved, safe, warm. I'm merely co-existing
with strangers now. Strangers who wear the masks of my family but will kill
each other if so much as a wrong word is uttered.
I'll do anything to get my home back.
Yours faithfully,
Tendo Nabiki
10th December 1999
PS: My diary is in the top drawer of my dresser. Read it if you still don't
believe me. Start from 29th Nov entry.'
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Ryouga stuffed the letter back into the envelope and sighed. What Nabiki
suggested was so unbelievable. Yet, he could not think of another reason
for the unspeakable acts he witnessed earlier. Is this where humanity was
heading all along? With a heavy heart, he opened the drawer. His fingers
brushed past the surface of the navy blue book, realising that this was an
invasion of Nabiki's privacy, yet he had to know.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
FROM THE DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI
DATED 5TH DECEMBER 1999
I passed by Ukyou's restaurant today afternoon. She was beating up an
unarmed man who had refused to pay. His screams only caused her to smile
widely and hit him with even more force. Some of the patrons watched on, as
though this was a show they had put on. Others just kept on devouring their
food, their gaze centered on the plates in front of them.
I have to find out what is wrong with everyone. A trip down to the police
station wouldn't yield results, since not once did I see cops doing their
jobs. I suppose I should be thanking god that they aren't participating in
the crimes but the pessimist in me warned that it was only because I never
saw it yet.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
FROM THE DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI
DATED 6TH DECEMBER 1999
I think I found the answer! Don't have time to write longer, I have to
think things through. Something tells me that time is of the essence.
-----------------------------------------------------------------FROM THE
DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI
DATED 7TH DECEMBER 1999
It is getting dangerous to go to the library. A place of learning actually
became a mini war zone. I kept waiting for the librarian to come out and
hush everybody. Delusional, huh? Anyway, I took the books I needed and
ran.
Seems like Cologne knew something about Xue Mo Wang. She too have observed
what was going on. Shampoo and Mousse have already succumbed to its
influence, despite Cologne's warnings. Makes me wonder when is my turn.
I avoid father, Akane, Uncle Saotome and Ranma like the plague now. They
make look like the people I know but they act like... like... the whole
world was out to get them. But somehow, I just can't make myself avoid
running into Kasumi. She is my beloved older sister, the one I'm closest
to. I can't help but look at her and wish she would smile at me. She threw
a mug at me, for staring too long, that's what I got for being sentimental.
I see evidence of the wild monsters everyone has become, on the TV, out in
the streets, but nothing pains me more than seeing the change in my sister.
For converting my kind Kasumi, Xue Mo Wang must pay!
-----------------------------------------------------------------FROM THE
DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI
DATED 9TH DECEMBER 1999
I'm scared. Yesterday, I almost gave into 'it'. I nearly took a knife and
slashed a deranged lunatic who was chasing me. From the moment I picked up
the knife, I heard the song encouraging me to strike, to kill, to feel the
soft flesh yielding. It grew so loud that I couldn't hear anything else.
Only the thought of becoming like him, made me toss away the knife. Now I
know what I am truly up against.
Now that I'm aware of the siren song, I can hear it repeating infinitely in
my head. The song had always been there, since the day the evil spirit was
freed, I suppose, softly, subtly cajoling me to act. I tried many ways to
banish the song, yet they all failed. When I laugh or cry, the song grows
softer but never completely fading away.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
FROM THE DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI - excerpt
DATED 10TH DECEMBER 1999
It's nearly midnight.
I've placed copies of my letter in every corner of my house. Tomorrow,
I'll drop other copies as I travel by bicycle to Sadako.
I'm terrified...
-----------------------------------------------------------------FROM THE
DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI
DATED 11TH DECEMBER 1999
Why did I want to go to Sadako and risk my life? Who cares what happens to
other people? That's none of my business.
Oh my god. It has gotten to me. I was supposed to set off to Sadako today
but when I awoke, it didn't seem important anymore. I've wasted a whole
day! I can't set off now, its too dark. During the day, I have enough
difficulty escaping from the possessed. What hope do I have against them at
night?
But what if I wake up tomorrow and I wasn't me anymore?
Ranma has his radio on, blasting out rock tunes. The whole house feels as
though it is vibrating. The urge to pound his head into the damn radio
grows stronger by the minute.
But I can't! I'm stronger than this thing! I am my own master!
-----------------------------------------------------------------FROM THE
DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI
DATED 12TH DECEMBER 1999
Boring day. Painted my nails purple.
Maybe tomorrow I'll go out and kick some ass!
This writing in a diary sucks. Why do I bother writing out things that
could be used as blackmail if somebody reads it? And if nobody reads it,
then why do I bother writing? Like I said, it is a stupid diary.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Ryouga flipped past the next few pages. All blank. It looked as though
Nabiki had never regained control again. He placed the diary back in the
drawer, on top of several lavender envelopes, resisting the urge to scream
out 'Why me?' at the heavens. Why was he the one who apparently had not
been influenced or possessed? Why was he the only one left to play hero?
Suddenly, footsteps were heard downstairs. He rushed down, clearing the
last five steps in a single leap. Several men dressed in bright yellow
suits, complete with gloves and oxygen masks immediately surrounded him.
"Who are you?" asked the leader in English.
"Hibiki Ryouga," stammered the boy, clearly flustered by the appearance of
such strangely clad men and women.
"FBI Agent Fox Mulder and this is my partner, Dana Scully," said the
leader. "The others are from the US as well, the CDC Unit."
"Why are you here?" asked Ryouga, glad that he learned English from a
friend two years back.
"We've received an fax from a Nabiki Tendo, explaining the reason behind
the recent crime wave occurring in most countries."
Scully hurriedly interjected, "Not that we actually believe her tale about
evil spirits and its plan to turn the world into hell. We need more
evidence than mere hearsay and guesswork."
Mulder looked as though he disagreed but Scully silenced him with a look.
"As America has also been affected by whatever this is, the government
sought fit to send us here to investigate. The CDC personnel are here, in
case this is a viral outbreak of some sort, which is what some of our
experts believe."
"If you're looking for Nabiki, you're too late. She has already joined the
rest of them out there." He pointed outside. "She left this letter though.
I think I'm the only one in Nerima who is unaffected by the spirit."
"Why?" asked Mulder.
"Truth betold, I just got here today. I was in Jamaica the entire week.
Nobody there was acting out of sorts."
-----------------------------------------------------------------22TH
DECEMBER 1999 (AFTERNOON)
Ryouga sweated profusely in the spare yellow suit they loaned him. What
they were dealing with could not be as easily deterred as using oxygen
masks. Too bad, only Agent Mulder believed him. The other FBI agent,
Scully, extracted some of his blood for testing. If he was unaffected, then
his body must contain the way to counter the virus. <If only things were as
simple as that,> wished Ryouga. From Nabiki's diary, he knew he would not
'change' for a couple of days. It was something like an incubation period.
<Great, now I even talk like Agent Scully.>
He knew he was prone to swings of depression and rage. Not that he didn't
have any valid reason to feel this way. But in the face of this
supernatural entity, these negative feelings would prove to be his undoing.
Hopefully by then the Americans would believe Nabiki and him, and that some
of them would survive long enough to defeat Xue Mo Wang.
Suddenly aware that the van had stopped moving, he peered out of the window
and saw an oddly shaped building with a sign proclaiming 'Sadako Museum'.
Adrenaline pumping, he, along with the others, raced out of the van, not
bothering to stop to render aid to the dozens of people collapsed on the
cement floor.
Two of the medical staff, unable to just walk past them, stopped in front
of a groaning child and his mother. Too late to warn them, Mulder could
only watch as the Americans were torn apart by the bloodthirsty mother and
child. Knowing that there was nothing he could do for his fallen comrades,
he ran into the museum and closed the doors shut behind him.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Ryouga spun slowly in a circle, bewildered. Where were the bodies, blood,
shattered artifacts? Where was the mess prevalent in every single place the
supernatural being touched? It looked and felt like a normal museum, except
that it was devoid of people not counting themselves. Could Nabiki be
wrong? <She never did come here,> reasoned Ryouga mentally. <All she had
to go on were a couple of reports, a story Cologne heard of when she was
young and a siren song. She was apparently wrong. And we've wasted
precious time barking up the wrong tree. Akane, I'm so sorry.> With each
passing minute, the chance of Akane surviving in a brutal world lessened.
Even if she did return to normal, would her past violent acts devastate her
completely? <I'm sorry, Akane.>
By unspoken agreement, they all split up in pairs to cover all the rooms.
Ryouga was left standing stiffly near the entrance, absorbed in his guilt.
Parks and Gump headed to the right, Russell and Scott took the left
corridor and that left Mulder and Scully covering the middle.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dr. Parks and Dr. Gump cautiously proceeded into the room but a detailed
investigation yielded no golden box. Disappointed, they headed back to the
main hall (the designated meeting point), only to find their path blocked by
three young women, dressed in some sort of uniform. They would be
considered beautiful, if not for the crazed expressions on their faces. As
one, the three women charged, easily overpowering the guys hampered by their
huge suits.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Russell and Scott ended up finding themselves in a corridor leading to the
various offices and one pantry room. Hoping to find some valuable
information, they opened the Curator's office door. Scott stepped in first,
only to find himself kicked in the back by a man hiding behind the door.
Russell quickly jumped in to help his colleague and best friend.
Realising just how difficult it was to fight dressed like that, Russell
tore out of his suit and attacked the assailant with a vengeace. Scott soon
followed his friend's example.
They ganged up on the balding middle-aged man, kicking and punching him
relentlessly. The Japanese man kicked back wildly, almost hitting Scott's
groin. Growling, Scott balled his fists and punched him in the chest while
Russell restrained the Japanese from moving.
When their attacker breathed in his last gulp of air, the two Americans
looked at one another and smiled. Then one second later, they lunged at
each other, heeding the battle song they heard oh so well.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"I've found it!" shouted Mulder in delight. He lifted up the glass display
case and cautiously picked up the oblong box. Scully rushed to his side.
"Where's the others?"
Scully shrugged, uncaring. "Let me read it," she said.
"You? The only thing you can read is Chinese menus," countered Mulder.
"Give it to me!"
"No!"
Both simultaneously drawn their guns. A stalemate.
Mulder felt a sense of deja vu as though they had done this before. He
didn't want to shoot his partner but he needed to retrieve the box from
where it had fallen to the floor. "It is too late. Scully is controlled by
the malignant being now. If you don't stop her, you won't be able to save
the world. She wouldn't want to suffer like this. Shoot her now! SHOOT
HER! SHOOT!" whispered a voice that only he could hear.
Meanwhile, Scully was struggling with her own contradicting thoughts. She
trusted Mulder impeccably but then the Mulder she knew wouldn't point a
loaded weapon at her. "Shoot him," the wind whispered.
<No!> she screamed mentally.
"Who is the one who kept dragging you into danger? You would have been
promoted long ago, if not for him. He is hindering you right now, with his
beliefs of possession and evil spirits. Look at him! He thinks you're
possessed too. He'll shoot you to prevent you from reaching the box. You
have to get to the box, don't you, to prove that there is no malevolent
force at work. You have to do it. Shoot!"
The FBI agents looked at each other and fired.
Jostled out of his thoughts by the sound of gunfire, Ryouga looked around
in shock. Like a moth drawn to candle flame, he instinctively knew where
the box, where the evil had dwelled for centuries was kept. He slowly
walked towards it, walking over the unconscious body of Agent Scully,
ignoring the body of Agent Mulder that lay on the other side and lifted the
box. He heard the song Nabiki had mentioned clearly now. And what a
beautiful song it was, singing of hate, anger and greed. He found himself
agreeing with the song, understanding that there was no other way, that this
was what humanity was all about - only the fittest shall survive. Who cares
about the weak?
A small part of his soul rebelled against these cruel thoughts but he
ignored it. Welcoming the song and the adrenaline rush it came with, Ryouga
heeded to the voice of the box and slowly, reverently placed the box back in
its display case. He then turned and headed for the exit. <Time to weed
out the weak.>
A small picture fell out of his trouser pocket and it slowly drifted to the
floor. He focused on the picture, the drawing he had made one night, using
burnt sticks from his fire. A picture of Akane, looking as lovely as
always, hugging Ranma, his nemesis. On the far left corner, was a little
black piglet with a bandanna around its neck, its expression wistful as it
stared at the two lovers.
Instantly, he recalled the despondent feeling he had that night. He had
been lost in a concrete jungle somewhere for weeks, unable to find his way
back to Nerima. Deeply depressed, he predicted that by the time he was
finally able to wander into Nerima, Akane would have been married. Then he
picked up a piece of paper and began to draw.
Somehow, remembering that day gave him the power necessary to break free of
the spirit's control. He recollected his reason for coming here in the
first place - to save Akane.
Gritting his teeth in concentration, he strode purposefully towards the
box. The song no longer held any attraction to him, although it grew louder
and images of animalistic violence flooded his mind.
<I have to save Akane. I want everything to go back the way it was. Even
if she ended up choosing Ranma.>
"Fool! You want to let Ranma steal her away from you?"
<I never stood a chance anyway.>
"Yes, you do. Just welcome me and you'll be with Akane. There will be no
interruptions, no Ranma. Don't you want to find out how she is and what's
she's feeling? Now I'm offering you this chance," whispered the invisible
entity.
Ryouga faltered. He did long to be with his love but... "No," he
whispered. "NO!" he shouted. "I want to save Akane! So long as she is
happy, I'll be happy too. You can't fool me with such tricks. I swore to
protect her and if I had to die to do it, I will!"
"Fool!"
"Stop hiding behind shadows and fight me!" Ryouga picked up his trusty
umbrella and parried.
"Foolish mortal!" The being sent him flying towards the wall. Once.
Twice. Three times. Still, Ryouga stood up, his injured spine protesting.
"You can't defeat me that easily."
That remark earned him the honour of almost being strangled to death. His
hands grasping at the invisible hands, touched only air.
When he was finally dropped, Ryouga panted, his lungs screaming. His
umbrella too far away, he staggered towards a sword hanging on the wall.
Several times, he was pushed back by strong gales but still he persevered.
Finally, his hand grasped the hilt of the sword and pulled it out. The
sword pulsed with life and suddenly rejuvenated, Ryouga dashed towards the
malevolent entity, who was became suddenly visible, and pierced the sword
into its torso. It pushed him away violently.
Sensing that the sword was the key, Xue Mo Wang redirected its efforts to
getting Ryouga to release the sword.
Somehow, the sword gave Ryouga the power to see the creature. And for
once, he didn't hear the call of the voice. Instead, he heard another
voice, this one kind and wise. Thinking that it was another of the
supernatural creature's tricks, he charged at it.
When the sword clattered to the ground, Ryouga's right arm hanging useless
at his side, the evil creature laughed. It still remained visible, seeing
no harm in letting Ryouga see the hands that would throttle the life out of
him. It slowly advanced, taking pleasure in drawing out the impending death
of his enemy. "You're too late. When the full moon rises tonight, the
world will be completely under my control! There will be no more love. No
more kinship, only rage."
Frozen in place, Ryouga could only watch helplessly as it advanced. Out of
the corner of his eye, Nabiki appeared from behind a pillar. She stood
there unmoving, her face devoid of emotions. Pleading with his eyes, Ryouga
gestured to the sword that had slid near her. Nabiki didn't budge.
Disparaged, Ryouga tried to run, to get the sword himself but to no avail.
The creature is almost directly in front of him now. <No hope left.>
The monster grasped his neck with both hands and squeezed. Ryouga grabbed
hold of its wrists and tried desperately to move them away. "Nabiki,"
moaned Ryouga.
Nabiki twitched. Why was she affected by the pleas of this boy? Who cared
if he lived or not? He was nobody. Nobody at all. Yet, she felt drawn to
watch him struggle. It was as though, his struggles managed to touch some
part of her soul. Was there something she needed to do? Had she forgotten
something crucial? The siren song pounded incessantly. <I think... I was
supposed to...> She frowned. Something was telling her that it was nothing
serious, that she shouldn't waste her time.
Ryouga stopped struggling. His lungs burned with the lack of oxygen.
Still, Nabiki persisted. If there was something she hated, it was an
unsolved mystery.
<Father... Kasumi... Akane> As if those were magical words, they broke
down the hold the creature had over her, washing away all its influence.
She breathed in deeply, relishing the moment that she was her own master
again. Realising that there was no time to lose, Nabiki picked up the sword
and prepared to jam it into the creature's unsuspecting back.
It turned back to regard her with its beady eyes. Panicking, Nabiki
staggered back, clutching the sword with a death grip. She slashed at the
space between them, warning the creature not to step too close.
Ryouga got up, his entire body screaming out in pain. A voice kept
whispering at him, coaxing him to stand up and fight. He rammed into the
creature, knocking him off-balance. Seizing the opportunity, Nabiki stuck
the sword into its chest. It wailed in pain but still managed to get up.
Instantly, Ryouga pulled the sword out with his left hand, and decapitated
it. Its physical form began melting into a greenish fluid that solidified
into grey ash.
Somehow, he knew that this was not the end. Incanting words he never heard
of before, Ryouga sent the ash disintegrating into oblivion. The crisis
finally at an end, he staggered backwards, panting, leaning on the wall.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
A MINUTE EARLIER
Ranma and Ukyou circled each other warily, teeth bared, weapons ready.
There was no need for words, the intense hatred between them easily conveyed
through their eyes. Ranma's clothes were caked with blood, all not his but
rather belonged to the unlucky people who had fought him the past few days.
Ukyou, on the other hand, had severe cuts on her legs and back. But the
pain only increased her drive to kill.
Suddenly, their eyes cleared, each dropping his or her weapons.
"Ran-chan?" murmured Ukyou as she tried to recall what had happened.
"Ucchan? You're bleeding!" He rushed over, tearing off the sleeves of her
shirt to make temporary bandages.
"What's going on?" she asked. "Why did we? Oh my god! I've killed
someone!" She screamed, until her voice grew hoarse. Ranma hugged her
wordlessly, tears washing away the grime and dried blood on his face. He
too was a murderer. Though he knew that it was not his fault, he had been
controlled by that voice, still it didn't make his guilt any easier to bear.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Gleefully dancing in the ruined mess of Nekohanten, Cologne stepped over
the carcasses. She had incited hungry patrons to fight by declaring that
only the victor would get the feast. Then she sat back and enjoyed the
riot. When a victor eventually emerged, Cologne grinned and killed him.
Why give food away to others when she could have it all to herself?
As the spell broke, Cologne fell to her knees and prayed. She had known
what it was, yet she still succumbed. She was no longer the mighty warrior
she once were. Now, all she saw in the mirror, was a haggard old woman,
whose time had long past.
She walked away from her home, resolved to atone for her sins by helping
those still alive and finding Shampoo. When Shampoo was found, that was the
day Cologne would go back to China to face a trial for her sins.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Kasumi stopped in the midst of stuffing herself with uncooked chicken
drumsticks. Someone was stealing her food, never mind the fact that she was
not the actual owner. Kasumi kicked the offender away and continued to
gorge on the food.
A minute later, she stopped chewing and spat the raw, half-chewed food out.
Realising what had happened, she emptied out her stomach on the floor.
It would be awhile before she could muster the strength to go back home.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
BACK IN THE MUSEUM
Nabiki walked over, concerned. "Are you ok?"
"I should be asking you that."
Nabiki laughed. A genuine laugh.
"How did I-"
"The sword you're holding is the sword Priest Mao Da Fang used to slay
demons and evil spirits. It was then passed onto the Mao clan, in every
generation, a Priest would be selected to use this sword. Over the years, I
suppose it was infused with a part of the spirits of the owners before it.
And when you held it to defend yourself from that creature, I guess-"
Mulder and Scully stirred, both wincing in pain, from the flesh wounds on
their shoulders, caused by the bullets.
"I thought you guys were dead?"
"After working together for so long, we would never willingly harm each
other. Struggling with the need to kill, drained a lot out of us. I think
maybe we didn't want to hurt each other so our bodies shut down until the
danger has past. Or perhaps, the spirit knew that it could not control us
and knocked us unconscious instead," explained Agent Mulder.
"I think it is more likely that the shock of being hit, coupled with the
intensive battle of wills with the urge to kill, exhausted us, so we blacked
out," offered Agent Scully.
Ryouga smiled then winced in pain.
"I think we better get you to a hospital," commented Nabiki as she
supported him out. The FBI agents had to look for their team mates and so
remained in the museum.
"Do you think everyone will be alright?" asked Ryouga.
Her smile faltered. "I... hope so."
Behind the youths, the full moon rose above the horizon.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
24TH DECEMBER 1999
NERIMA HOSPITAL
WARD 2-34
"Hey, how do you feel?" asked Nabiki as she popped into the room.
"Not bad, I suppose. The doctor says I have to stay here for a couple more
days though," answered Ryouga.
"Hmm."
"What about you? Did Akane and the rest come back?" Ryouga hesitantly
asked.
"Kasumi was home when I came back. She felt so guilty for being so rude to
us and so self-absorbed. Now she's being extra helpful, friendly and
respectful just to atone. Akane is alright. She had a concussion and a
couple of bruises, that's all. Now she's helping out in the search for
those who are still missing. Ranma and Ukyou are as well as they could be.
It'll be a long while before they can put their past actions behind them.
Someone found Uncle Genma's body this morning. As for my dad... he hasn't
come home yet."
"He'll be back soon," Ryouga assured Nabiki.
"Yeah." There was a long awkward pause.
"Are you alright? I mean, you never told me what happened to you after Dec
12," probed Ryouga.
"Nothing much. Boring really. I can't really remember much," hedged
Nabiki.
Ryouga frowned. The old Nabiki, the one before all this evil spirit stuff
happened, had a poker face. He could never figure out what she was feeling
or when she was lying. But this Nabiki standing before him was completely
different in this aspect. Although her emotions were not clearly
broadcasted on her face or her behaviour, he knew how much pain his question
was costing her. "I saw on TV, that we were called heros. But how come
there aren't any reporters barging in?"
Grateful for the change in conversational topic, Nabiki quickly answered.
"That's because I'm handling all communications between us and the press. I
told them we would issue a statement two days later, that even heros
deserved a break." Nabiki smiled and joked, "You know, I think Hollywood
will pay us a lot of money to get the movie rights for this whole encounter.
How two teenagers from Japan saved the world. Get your books and
autographed photos of the two heros."
They looked at each other.
"I'll give you ten percent of the profits," offered Nabiki.
"No way. Me sixty percent and you forty percent."
Nabiki shook her head.
"Fifty-fifty. That's my final offer," said Ryouga.
"Done." They solemnly shook hands to seal the deal. "Hmm, I think I'll get
Sandra Bullock to portray me." Only a slight twitch of her lips spoiled her
act.
"Her? She's too old. How about that girl who acted as Buffy instead?"
suggested Ryouga mock seriously. "Nabiki the evil spirit slayer!" he
laughed. Nabiki soon joined in.
The End.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Author's notes:
I didn't have time nor the inclination to write their bodies being
discovered and such, so I'll cop out by stating the death count:
Mousse - killed by Cologne.
Tendo Soun - found dead in a ditch, a week later.
Shampoo - couldn't handle the guilt of what she had done and committed
suicide.
Cologne - found Shampoo's corpse and died of a broken heart on the way back
to China.
Ok, now it is time to apologise to you all, for sending out this fic so near
x-mas. Hope it didn't put you in a bad mood.
This was actually based on a dream I had more than a year ago. Yes, I do
dream of Ranma and gang. Yes, I do know that that makes me seem obsessed
but I only dreamed of them twice! I swear!
Anyway, the gist of the story remains true to my original dream, I pleased
to say.
Merry X-mas and a happy new year!
Ciao,
Cass
21/10/99
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