Kodachi Kuno awoke with a start, a scream fighting like the devil to escape
her throat. She felt cold, far colder than she had ever been before, icy
sweat coating her pale flesh from head to toe.
For a moment she forgot where she was, irrational fear rampaging in her
mind. Slowly, almost reluctantly, reality began to set in as the nightmare
faded into obscurity. She was in her bed, she was safe... right?
Lastly, her iron resolve reasserted itself, shaking off the last fragments
of dream and bringing reality into crystal focus. Yet, she couldn't shake
the feeling that something was happening, something terrible beyond imagining.
Enough! You are the Black Rose! You are NOT frightened by dreams like some
child!
She rose from the bed, the sheer black chemise whispering below her knees
as her feet touched the cold floor. Dream or no, she was not going back to
sleep tonight.
"Lights." The room was filled with a soft halogen glow, banishing the
shadows from her presence. Despite herself, she felt a sense of relief rush
through her as the light destroyed the darkness.
She strode over to her vanity, an antique mahogany chest of drawers carved
with ornate designs on the legs and around the edges. A delicate carving of
a vine circled the large oval mirror, forming a rose at the top.
Her hair was mussed, whether from mere sleep or from tossing in throes of
the nightmare she was uncertain. She gazed at her reflection for a few
moments, a sadness rarely seen fleeting across her face. Kodachi never let
anyone else see her in such a state, imperfect and vulnerable....
------------------------------------------------
Lighting seared the night, and Kodachi saw the black raven soaring above
her, caws of mourning and anger, sadness and hate filling the void of a
place blacker than night, emptier than space.
"I am coming..." The searing hiss came from everywhere at once, carrying
with it a ring of familiarity. "I am coming for you..."
"Who DARES taunt the Black Rose so!?"
"I am coming..."
------------------------------------------------
The real world returned with a violent flash, leaving Kodachi Kuno
shuddering atop the squat stool. Dreams were often portents of coming
events, holding meaning that one could never easily discern, but what did
this mean? What was the voice that tormented her so in the dream?
Kodachi squelched the dark thoughts that screamed from the abandoned
corners of her mind, returning her focus to the here and now. She pressed a
hidden switch on the mirror's frame, the perfect glass splitting down the
center to retract into the wood.
The shrine was a study in intricacy, every detail carved in painstaking
perfection. It was, for lack of a better term, a work of art. In the center
rested a small picture of a man with eyes the color of infinite blue,
resting in a face she had dreamed of since that first night so long ago.
They had taken him from her! They had conspired from the very beginning to
keep them apart!
"Ranma, my love," she whispered, lighting a stick of incense at the
shrine's base, "I will find you. You and I shall be together for all
eternity, and those who have taken you from me shall all pay with their
lives. The Black Rose swears it."
======================================================
Ryo lay awake in his bed, the sketchpad before him bearing the latest image
of his creation. He stared at the drawing, cold fingers skittering up and
down his spine as he beheld the infinte despair and anger in those eyes.
Black lines extended up into her hairline, and down to her cheeks while two
more stretching from her lips gave her the visage of a vengeful clown.
Happiness and despair as one.
He violently closed the book, his stomach fluttering for no reason he could
divine. Something about these drawings disturbed him greatly. He felt as if
he should know this girl from his dreams, that he should know the ache in
his heart when he beheld her likeness on the charcoal grey paper.
---------------------------------------------
"RANMA!"
"AKANE!"
"RANMA, HELP ME!"
The void parted to reveal a place devoid of all things living, barren in
every respect. He saw the man with the pigtail, the man she called Ranma,
struggle to reach for her as the void wrapped around them both, forcing the
two apart.
"RRRAAANNNMMMAAAA!"
----------------------------------------------
Ryo cradled his head in his hands, fighting back tears he shouldn't be
shedding. Who WAS that girl? Why did she haunt his dreams? Who was Ranma?
He reached beneath the bed, commanding the lights to activate as he pulled
out one of his favorite holo-mangas. He would not get any more sleep
tonight. He watched as the sepiatone image appeared above the small disc,
the story beginning. He had to get this out of his head. It was just some
stupid dream!
Something deep inside, in a place where such knowledge is possible, knew
that it was anything but.
====================================================
"Can't this wait?" Soichiro Otonashi groused as he stepped into the
bedroom. Being awakened at three in the damn morning did little for his
already sour disposition, and having to drive all the way to the middle of
downtown Tokyo made it even worse. "The poor bastard isn't going anywhere."
The constant flashing of the forensics team's cameras didn't help. Each
flare of strobe-like brilliance drove an iron spike into his skull, sending
his already growing headache to new heights.
"They've already removed the body," Akria said, moving up next to him.
"Doesn't matter, I'll see it anyway."
"Sir!" Cried a man in a patrolman's uniform, "come in here!" Soichiro
grudgingly obliged, stepping past a few hovering forensics types who hurried
to get out of his way. Everyone knew how much Detective Otonashi hated being
up at such an ungodly hour.
Dried blood caked the linoleum floor, the smell of death hanging in the
chill air. Didn't these people think to close the damn window! The patrolman
pointed toward the mirror, his face pale and gaunt. He glanced at the
nametag, Tetsuo... something. First guy on the scene, Soichiro pitied the
man. Being the first to find a man's body was never a pleasant experience.
"Damn." Painted in congealed blood on the mirror was a crude bird, wings
stretched as if in flight. He reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling
out a pack of cigarettes. He knew it was a bad habit, but nothing worked
better at calming him down.
"Looks like our man has struck again," Akria said.
"Yeah, no shit. Who was it?"
"The victim? He's been identified as Yoshi Sakamoto, a Yakuza triggerman."
Soichiro lit a cigarette, a puff of smoke rising to the ceiling from his
first drag. Two dead Yakuza hitters in twenty-four hours, both with the same
modus operandi. He looked at the numbers he had, and didn't like the way
they were adding up.
"This might be a vigilante," Akira offered, moving downwind. "It has all
the earmarks of one."
"Could be," he admitted. "Has forensics turned up anything on the prints
from that whorehouse?" Might as well get on the clock, there wasn't a chance
in hell of going back to sleep tonight.
"Yes, sir. The prints belong to one Akane Tendo."
The cigarette paused halfway to his mouth as his brain struggled to make
sense of what his partner had said. Akane... Tendo? No, couldn't be. It was
either a mistake, or someone with the same name. What were the odds? There
had to be a rational explanation for it.
"Sir? Are you alright?"
"Yeah. You got the report?"
"I can have it faxed here in a minute."
"No, let's get to the office. We're about as useful as an ashtray on a
motorcycle here." Besides, I hate places like this, he didn't add.
==================================================
The rain had slowed to a constant drizzle by morning, soaking everything to
the core with a blanket of damp. The sun failed to shine through the
oppressive blanket of clouds, the curtain of water robbing everything of the
detail that the muted light fought to bestow.
Akane stood in what was left of the main hallway of the dojo, rain from
outside running off Yoshi's coat in small rivulets. Her hair had been beaten
down by the rain, clinging to her face and neck.
The walls were cracked and stained, mildew tainting the bubbling surface of
the wallpaper. Puddles of water gathered on the warped wood floor, fed by
droplets that fell from the ceiling. The Tendo Dojo felt empty, lifeless.
Like her.
"Welcome home, Akane," she muttered aloud. "Welcome home."
The front porch was as empty and decrepit as the hallway, the lack of
life's evidence leaving a void in space. The rice paper wall, which had
served once to divide the front room from the outside, was long since gone.
Light gusts of wind blew the mist inside, coating the floor near the porch
with a slick sheen. The weeds had taken over, reaching above the deck and
obscuring the lay of the ground.
For a moment, she almost saw her father and Uncle Saotome sitting in their
usual spot, playing a game of Shogi in the sunlight. Kasumi would be outside
hanging clothes, while Nabiki was watching television. Images from the past
transposed onto the present, as thin and ethereal as the very air.
It was gone as quickly as it had come, and the world was grey and bleak
once again. The sense of relief she had felt on seeing her home still
standing had now completely vanished. Without her family, without Ranma, it
wasn't home. It was just an empty and decaying building, an eyesore to be
removed.
"Of course they wouldn't still be here," she said as the Crow alighted on
her shoulder. "Who knows where they are now?"
[Do not concern yourself with that. You have more important matters to deal
with.]
"Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea."
[It was your decision.]
"You're a real big help." She turned and walked over to the stairs, leaving
the depressing sight of the outside world behind her. Maybe, if she tried
hard enough, she could pretend that she was still alive, that everyone was
here and that life was just one insanity after another.
Fat chance of that.
The stairs creaked under her weight, screaming their protest to the world
as Akane climbed to the second floor. The Crow left her shoulder, sailing
easily up into the dim heights as she continued her ascent.
The spare room was empty, as she knew it would be. The walls and floor were
in no better condition than those in the rest of the house, warped and
cracked from years of neglect. The spots where Ranma and Genma slept were as
bare as the rest of the space, further evidence of what would never be again.
Akane crossed the floor to the small chest of drawers beneath the shattered
window, drawn by an unseen force to the rotting wood. She opened one of the
drawers, finding it as empty as everything else in this shell of a home. She
heard the flapping of the Crow's wings as it streaked low to the floor,
talons grabbing a stray cockroach in one smooth motion as she opened another
drawer.
"Huh?" The picture was old and faded, yet still clear enough as she brought
it to her face.
-----------------------------------------------------
"Meow!"
"Ran... mmph!"
-----------------------------------------------------
She nearly cried again at the white-hot flash of fragmented memory. Ranma
had been in the grip of the Nekoken, possessed by the soul of a cat when
this picture had been taken. She remembered the feel of their lips pressed,
the taste of him as clearly as if it had happened yesterday rather than all
those years ago. She had been surprised, hell, knocked completely for a loop
by that kiss. And what did she do?
She hit him.
Why couldn't they ever get it right? What higher power deemed them not to
be together?
For the briefest moment, the sun managed to smash through the haze of
clouds above. Akane felt the warm shaft of golden light envelop her in its
loving embrace, bathing her in a heavenly glow of love and life.
For the first time in what felt like eternity, Akane smiled. It was the
smile of a child, seeing the world through the eyes of innocence and wonder,
the joys of living waiting to be discovered. She felt alive.
It vanished as quickly as it came, yet the feeling still lingered on the
fringes of the anguish. It had been the most amazing experience of her
entire existence!
The thought gave Akane pause. The light of the sun, a thing which she had
taken for granted, a thing she once thought trivial, had been the most
sublime of sensations. Seeing, breathing, feeling, all of them were no
longer mundane things, but possessions to be cherished.
"What happens to me?" she asked the Crow. "What happens when I'm done here?"
[You return to the hereafter.]
Akane shifted her gaze to the Crow, which stared at her with its
unflinching obsidian eyes.
"What if I don't want to go?"
The Crow remained silent for a short while, as if pondering her question
before answering.
[You must.]
"Why?"
[Which do you want, an eternity with the one you love, or a brief life in
the light of the sun?]
"I want both."
[I am sorry, Akane, that is not possible.]
"You brought me back!" she exclaimed, her anger rising. "You can bring him
back, too!"
[No, I cannot. Only one soul can be brought back to the mortal coil at one
time, and that soul cannot remain here but for a short while.]
"What kind of stupid rule is that?!"
[A rule that cannot be broken,] the Crow replied in its even monologue.
[The kings of the afterlives would never allow that. The dead are dead, and
cannot stay amongst the living.]
Akane glared at the bird, blind fury warring with endless despair. There
had to be a way, there had to! Ranma wouldn't give up, and neither would she!
[You must not think of this. There are much more important matters to
attend to. You will be reunited with Ranma, but not on this world. Do you
understand?]
"Yeah. Perfectly." But that won't stop me from trying.
======================================================
Soichiro read the report for the tenth time, his cup of coffee having long
since gone cold and sitting forgotten on his desk. This wasn't possible, it
just wasn't. It had to be a clerical fuck-up somewhere.
"Forensics ran the prints four times," Akira said, "and this was the result
each time."
"Still has to be a mistake." Soichiro looked down at the date of death on
Tendo's file; 04-09-00. An open and shut case.
"Sir, are you feeling well?"
"Hm?"
"You've been reading that file for the past hour. Is something bothering you?"
"Yeah, like how could a dead girl be responsible for two murders."
"There's something you're not telling me." Soichiro glared at his young
partner, at once impressed by his intuitiveness and irritated at his rudeness.
"She was number ten, the last one."
"What?"
"The Nerima Slasher," Soichiro said, lighitng another cigarette. Health
Nazis be damned, he needed his nicotine. "Akane Tendo was his last victim.
He cut her clean in two."
"Why would our suspect try to steal the identity of one of a serial
killer's victims?" Akira asked, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Some kind of sick joke, maybe? A weird homage to Tenchi Masaki?"
"Behaioral doesn't have a clue on that one, sir." Soichiro grunted in
derision. A bunch of headshrinks, what did THEY know about real crime?
"Has Kaneda found anything on that bird symbol?"
"Actually, yes. Look at this." The file on Akane Tendo vanished, replaced
immediately by a lengthy string of harsh green text. The nice thing about
the global networks was that law enforcement information was much more
accessible to police everywhere. One thing, at least, that had improved over
the years. Soichiro skimmed Kaneda's findings while Akira gave him the rundown.
"The first incidence of this symbol appearing was in 1994, in Detroit,
Michigan. Four men were killed, each attack marked by a large bird painted
in blood in three instances, one with fire. After the last one was found, a
fifth body was discovered, possibly connected to the other four murders."
Soichiro compared Akira's quick explanation with what he gleaned from the
report. The details were, as expected, somewhat sketchy, but correlated with
what Akira had said.
"The second was in 2002, in Los Angeles, California. Four people dead
within forty-eight hours, each with the same symbol left nearby. A fifth
death was reported in that timeframe, and was found connected with the others."
"Hmmm... Any other connections?" Soichiro tried to fit the pieces together,
their stubborn lack of cooperation galling him. What was he missing?
"This is the really strange part," Akira said, his voice betraying his
disbelief. "In both instances, the first four victims were thugs and
troubleshooters for a larger criminal entity. And the fifth body..."
"Was the chief slime himself," Soichiro finished. The picture was slowly
beginning to form, promising to be very terrifying indeed.
"Yes, sir. Also, the times when the murders were committed are also
strangely similar."
"Go on."
"The first happened on the night before Halloween."
"Devil's Night. A bunch of hoods get together and start an assload of
fires." Devil's Night was a western custom that, thankfully, hadn't come to
Japan along with Halloween. "The second?"
"On Dia de los Meurtos."
"What?"
"Dia de los Muertos. It's Spanish, meaning Day of the Dead. Essentially
Halloween, in which participants wear costumes and masks to ward off spirits
who linger on earth too long."
The picture was slowly coming together, yet something was still missing.
What was it?
"Okay," Soichiro said, dumping his coffee in the trashbin, "twenty-six
years ago, a guy takes out a bunch of scubags and paints a bird by the
bodies. Six years later, the same thing, just a different place."
"I'd say that our suspect is out for revenge against either the Yakuza, or
just those two in particular. He does some research, and finds something
about those two incidents in America that interests him."
"A copycat, then?"
"I believe so, sir. The Behavioral Science guys at Tokyo University are
thinking the same thing."
"If this guy really is a copycat, then he's not done yet," Soichiro said.
"He's just gotten started."
"I agree. And that still doesn't explain what the bird effigies mean, nor
how he got the fingerprints of a girl twenty years dead."
"We'll burn those bridges when we get to them."
================================================================
Kazuo Kagami genuflected on the cold stone floor, awaiting Kodachi's signal
to rise. By the gods, that woman was strange! Even from so many feet away,
he could feel her violet gaze on him like an intensely focused laser,
burning away every layer of himself down to his very soul.
"Rise, peasant," she said in her usual tone of imperious indifference.
Kazuo did as he was bidden, fighting to maintain his calm facade. He feared
neither man nor beast, but Kodachi Kuno scared the living hell out of him.
She stood before the ornate picture window on the western side of the room,
the light bathing her pale skin left exposed by the small, skin tight
leotard, lending her an unearthly glow. In her left hand dangled a single
rose, its petals black as night.
"What is so important that you have the nerve to disturb the Black Rose
so?" Her voice raised gooseflesh on his arms as she spoke.
"Two of my men are dead," he replied, surprised at how steady his voice
sounded.
"And what concern is that to I, hm? Your men are beneath my contempt."
"It may be another narawabi making a move on your territory." Kazuo stared
at the floor, hoping she took it as a sign of respect. He didn't know which
scared him more, her taking offence at him staring at her body, or the
terror generated by meeting her gaze. At least the floor was safe. He hoped.
"Do not insult my intelligence!" She shouted, the madness in her voice
hitting him like a fist. "You know as well as anyone that those who accost
Kodachi Kuno do not live to regret it!"
"I know, mistress." I hope she doesn't see my knees knocking!
"So, peasant, why do you bring this to my attention? Perhaps you merely
wished to bask in the beauty of the Black Rose? Is that it?" Her voice had
taken on an amused tone, laced with animal lust and things that Kazuo didn't
want to consider.
"No, Mistress Kodachi."
"Do you suggest that I am not pleasant to behold?!"
"NO! I mean... I..."
"Cease your snivelling, worhtless commoner. Go, I am done with you."
"Yes, mistress." Never were sweeter words ever said. "I downloaded the data
our contact in the police sent to us, if you wish to look at it." Only
silence greeted his ears, as if time itself were waiting for her decision.
"Very well," she said after an eternity of seconds. "Remain while I
entertain your simlple request."
"Yes, mistress." Damn! Kazuo looked up as she sat behind her obsidian desk,
a thing that seemed to suck the light out of the room. On its front, a
relief of a rose was carved into the black wood.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Kodachi access the sleek terminal atop
the desk, the data undoubtedly greeting her eyes by now. As he watched, an
icy fist grasped his heart as her face hardened in an exression of rage
beyond comprehension.
"What... is... THIS?!" Kazuo's guts melted at the hateful edge in Kodachi's
voice, her eyes locking on his like the sights of a rifle.
"What is it, Mistress..." He barely registered the movements of her hand as
she produced the ribbon and wraped it around his neck. The silken fabric
tightened around his throat like a noose, cutting off his oxygen as he felt
his feet leave the floor.
"Is this some sort of masochistic joke?!" she screamed into his ear once he
landed on her desk. The ribbon slackened as her fingers yanked his head by
the hair.
With her other hand, she swivelled the terminal to face him, his head held
back as far as his neck would allow. Terror lanced through his nerves as his
rational mind threatened to give way to the overwhelming desire to flee from
the shrieking harpy who held him.
"N... no, Mistress Kodachi! This.. this is the f-f-file! I swear to you!"
"Is that so?" He could practically feel the sneer without having to see her
face. "How could a harlot twenty years in the grave kill two men? Well?
ANSWER ME!"
"I don't know! Please!"
"Do you not remember her!"
Kazuo looked at the photo on the screen, a memory stirring in a forgotten
corner of his mind. Come to think of it, she did look familiar.
"No, Mistress Kodachi! I've never seen her!"
Another silence, this one somehow worse than the one before, descended on
the room. Nothing moved, even dared breathe, as the world stood still once
again. He scarecely heard the whirring of the terminal's air fan over the
thunder of his heartbeat as he waited for what came next. She might forgive
him, she'd done so before, but this was different. He'd never heard such raw
hate in her words before, such lack of control. Besides, he didn't think he
could perform if she chose to take him this time.
"Go." The hand released him, pain throbbing in the roots of his hair. "And
do not return unless summoned." He could have sworn that the temperature in
the room had dropped by twenty degrees as he ran for the exit.
Kodachi stared at the whore whose likeness fouled the screen of her
terminal, eyes glaring back at her. This was not possible, it couldn't be!
She was a witch, true, but not even one of her ilk can return from the dead!
"I am coming..." Startled, she looked around for the source of the
whispered threat, finding only the meter-thick and triple-reinfoced walls of
her sanctuary. No, this was not happening.
======================================
"Whoa!" Tenchi exclaimed as Kazuo walked out of the Kuno Mansion toward the
waiting car. "What the fuck have YOU been up to in there?"
"Not a word, Tenchi," he growled back. His hair was ruined, the back
sticking out in several odd angles behind him. His coat and shirt were
skewed, the tail of the white Ralph Lauren polo shirt hanging free of his
pants. The drizzle gradually began to coat his clothing, and would soon play
hell with the fabric.
"Must've been one wild ride with the boss, eh?" He loved teasing Kazuo
about his... meetings... with Kodachi Kuno. Balls of steel, everyone called
him. Nobody else could ever get it up with that freak around.
"Shut up, Tenchi!"
"So, how much blood did the vampire princess take this time, huh?"
"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Kazuo screamed, whipping out his revolver and
levelling it at Tenchi's head.
"Whoa, whoa, Kazuo!" Tenchi raised his hands in a placating gesture, eyes
locked on the barrel of the .38 special. From that close, the small bore
looked less like that of a handgun and more like that of a howitzer. "Take
it easy, man! I was kidding!"
"Yeah, sorry about that," Kazuo said, lowering the weapon.
"She must've really torn into you in there," Tenchi said as he climbed into
the Nissan.
"Yeah, you could say that." Kazuo entered from the other side as Tenchi
keyed over the engine. The small four cylinder motor hummed to life as the
heater began to blast warm air into the cabin of the car.
"What happened?"
"Trust me, Tenchi," Kazuo said as he leaned back into the seat, "you don't
want to know."