A little later than intended, due to some fairly heavy rewrites, then some fairly heavy editing. This segment begins to live up to the reader discretion warning. Yes Virginia, that means there's content that might be termed 'lemon', though not very heavy yet. Feel free to comment, correct, completely deconstruct, or even outright flame it. Or just enjoy reading it. BML Productions Warning: This fan fiction work is appropriate for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is highly advised. in conjunction with Sick and Twisted Bastards United Disclaimer: This is a work of fantasy set in an imaginary world with fictional characters. The events contained within may be impossible, illegal, or immoral in real life. Additionally, significant issues and concerns are conveniently ignored for the sake of the story. This is only words. Really. present a DamnWrong fic in the world of Takahashi Rumiko's Ranma 1/2 I claim no ownership of any of the situations, characters, or background material appearing in this story. Even the ones I did happen to create. Ishi o Tsukau written by DaR $Date: 1998/10/06 03:09:11 $ $Revision: 0.7 $ Part Two: Developments and Intrigues Folly is often more cruel in the consequences than malice can be in the intent. Aldous Huxley *** The school day began as Saotome Ranma sat in the tree, contemplating the incident with his fiancee's sister. The voices of the other students in their the daily routine drifted up through the tree, only to be ignored by the pondering martial artist. Finally, a distant ringing of a class bell provided enough stimulus to break out of his downward mental spiral. He looked around, noting school was still in session, and then climbed up several more branches. It came as a great relief to him to find the backpack was still firmly anchored around the tree, he'd been half expecting to find it gone. He carefully opened it and retrieved the oilcloth wrapped book, cautiously peeling the skin away from his treasure. Opening the book, he leafed the pages again, looking for any further nuggets of information he could pry free from those odd squiggly characters. he thought as he again skimmed the section on ki techniques for the fourth time in as many minutes. No matter how hard he tried, he could make nothing of the runes the themselves, but somehow, simply gazing at them would bring some measure of indistinct understanding. The actual meaning hovered just out of reach, like the food his father used to taunt him with during his earliest training. The thought of those sessions brought a sympathetic twinge from his stomach. He turned back to the ancient tome, pushing away the painful memories of being starved, "For the Art". Failing to gain anything more out of the chapter, he turned to the beginning, starting with the first section. Clearing his mind of all other thoughts, he fell into a trance, focused on trying to read each page as he had earlier, letting the information simply form in his mind as it wished. Most of the book remained indecipherable. The first two chapters seemed to contain bits that formed vague notions as he examined them. Some of the symbols seemed to remind him of body parts, for no particular reason, and even more strangely, some seemed to call forth physical sensation: prickles, itches, warmth, coolness, and others. At first he shrugged it off as an aspect of being upset over his earlier shocks, but as he reread sections he experienced the same sensations. After the third or fourth time it was growing difficult to ignore, even for someone with his genetic capability for denial. He let the book rest in his lap as he turned over the pieces of the puzzle in his mind. Strange symbols that made him tingle, martial arts techniques that froze people in place with a blast of ki, and an encounter that involved someone taking his words a little too literal for his own comfort. This book was definitely something to be reckoned with. With exaggerated care he returned it to it's resting place. He sat back against the trunk, brushing a stray strap out of his face. Random thoughts flew about, trying to build that finished puzzle he needed to see. How could it be that simple symbols would cause something like the reactions he had felt? Maybe he was looking at it wrong, maybe the symbols were representations of the sensations and what he felt was sympathetic. He resisted the urge to get the book out again and experiment with this idea more. Further distractions would have to wait until he had clarified his view of what he knew and figured out how to handle what was going on already. He couldn't risk rushing too far ahead of himself, not when dealing with something so powerful. Already he had a new technique he'd successfully used, one he had yet to try, and several more that were interesting variations on what he knew. He needed time to absorb and understand what he'd learned. *** Finally the sun set, and the cooling night air forced Ranma from his perch. He climbed slowly to the ground, then bothered to walk all the way to the gate, rather than simply hop the fence in his traditional fashion. His hadn't really finished thinking, but he needed to move to keep warm. Slowly, he turned away from the path that would lead him to the Tendou house. He was not ready to go home. Not ready to deal with Akane. Or Kasumi. And especially not ready to deal with Nabiki. As he trudged along, he found himself following the path Akane often followed on her morning jogs. Sure enough, there was the small park she sometimes stopped in to rest. He sat down on a bench, listening to the soft sound of water lapping on the edge of the tiny koi pond. After a short break, the chill in the air forced him to move again, and he found himself wandering along her path once more. The same one she would travel in the morning. As he passed under a low bridge, Ranma tensed but kept walking. Someone was watching him from nearby. The air seemed gloomy and oppressive, it carried a sort of dankness that went beyond the normal evening chill. He was becoming upset again. he thought savagely. "Go away. Leave me alone. I'm busy." It probably wouldn't work, but he could try. "Ohohohoho!" No. Not that laugh. Please, no. "But I've come to help you in your time of need Ranma-sama!" Damn. Kunou "The Black Rose" Kodachi. Ranma shuddered as that insane laugh crawled slowly up his spine. "Dammit, I said GO AWAY!" He was shouting now, the dark undertones in his voice not at all hidden. She just laughed, bounding towards him with a bouquet of black roses. She moved with an effortless grace, her leaps quick and precise, like a gazelle. "Don't play hard to get, Ranma-sama. I'll rescue you from those low classed wenches." Twisting and spinning, he managed to avoid two full body glomps and a face full of black rose petals that were certainly laced with some sort of sleeping agent. His anger was building steadily, driven by snippets of that deranged mirth and her persistent attack. He skidded to a halt, turning towards her, entire body tensed up. "Would you just leave me alone?" he demanded of her. The light in her eyes was unearthly as she started towards him again, prancing closer and closer. he thought tiredly, she'd left him no choice. His ki was already burning in his soul, fueled by his raw emotion. Hers rolled off in almost physical waves, dark and unpleasant. The timing was tricky, he didn't really want to catch her in mid-air. For all his anger, hurting her wasn't his goal. He just wanted her out of his way. She touched down, ready to make the final spring towards him, her eyes were still locked with his, still filled with mad glee. Just as she landed, he unloaded the Choushi, shredding her psyche, instantly halting her in place. However his timing wasn't quite perfect. She'd been on the ground, but was already committed to the next jump, her balance low and forward in preparation, one foot already slightly in the air. Her still form teetered slightly, then tipped. The roses slipped from her stiffened fingers, tumbling towards the ground, much like their mistress. Ranma leapt forward, she would hit face first if he didn't catch her. He arrived just in time, his hands outstretched under her body, preventing possible tragedy. No one should have to take a face-first planter into the ground. As he held her aloft, he noticed she was even more still than Mousse and her brother had been, her breathing was shallow, barely pressing her.... The startled boy almost dropped her as he realized exactly which portion of anatomy he'd grabbed to prevent injury. The twin masses were firm and warm in his hands, and she was very obviously not wearing any sort of undergarment beneath the black leotard. Like Nabiki earlier, her nipples were little pebbles under the fabric, nestled into his palms. He slowly straightened, switching his grip to the outside of her arms once she was upright again. As he'd noticed, her chest barely moving on each inhalation. By some fortune the wave had caught her mid-blink, her eyes closed, and he was struck by her beauty when it wasn't marred by her habitual demented glare. Her raven black hair was pulled into the normal side gathered pony tail, but during their exertions several strands had come loose. A hand moved of its own volition, reaching up to untie the band holding the hair in. Pulling it out carefully, he watched the loosened tresses tumble down around her neck. He blinked, suddenly wondering what exactly he was doing. Examining his surroundings more closely, he found that no one was in this area of the park, not surprising, given the late hour and remote location. Even though the bridge overhead was vacant, he couldn't stand there all night holding Kodachi. He slid in closer to the paralyzed gymnast, moving into the embrace he'd been avoiding moments before. Wrapping his arms around her back, he lifted her with care and then walked the path under the bridge. Guiltily enjoying the feeling of her flesh against his chest and arms, he set her on the ground. He folded her hands over her stomach, enjoying the fairy tale image she presented that way. It reminded him of that western anime move, 'Sleeping Beauty'. Her breathing still seemed to be weak, so he reached out and held a pair of fingers to her neck. The beat was strong, but slow. He guessed that to be a side effect of the shock and shallow breathing. As he mentally timed her pulse, he was aware of the incredible firm silkiness of her skin. His fingers traced up along her jawline, then across her cheeks, smoothing the muscles that held her lips in that dreadful sneer. On sudden impulse he scooted over to the bank of the pond, dipping a hand into the cold water. Slipping back to her side he dabbed at the captured wetness with his other hand, running fingers along her eyelids to remove some of the excessive purple and black eye-shadow. He mindlessly repeated the motion, finally managing to clear most of the makeup with only minimal smearing. Once again Ranma was impressed by her physical beauty. Laying still, with her hair down, face composed peacefully, and the majority of her makeup off, she actually looked like any other teenage female. Well, perhaps a bit more attractive than average. He trailed his still moist finger down her face again, leaving a faint trail of darkness from the pigment still clinging to his fingers. His hand slid further down, along the line of her neck to the hem at the top of her leotard, pausing there. He moved the tips of his fingers a bit further, then snatched them back as if burned. He chopped the thought off, unwilling to hear whatever answer his internal voice was ready to supply. Her breathing seemed to be more feeble than before. He grew slightly worried and made ready to remove the block on her spirit before any serious harm came to her. He started to sink into the focus trance he needed, then stopped himself. She was going to be out of it for a second when she came to, but she could very well revert to violence in short order. And after looking at her that way, Ranma wasn't sure he wanted to fight with her, wasn't sure he could fight if he wanted to. He found her ribbon wrapped around its handle and stashed on the inside of the sash she wore. Unravelling the material, he wound it around her wrists and then her ankles, leaving her mostly immobilized even if she were to awaken suddenly. Satisfied she wouldn't be able to try anything, he settled back on his heels, starting the light meditation he needed to manipulate the ki. The earlier rage he had tapped was long gone, banished by concern for her condition and the vaguely unsettling arousal he felt. Tendrils of his spirit reached out, ready to remove the block, but encountered nothing. The ki was gone, consumed by the swirling maelstorm that was Kodachi's own aura. Ranma panicked, how could he possibly remove the block if the ki that made it up was already gone? If he couldn't revive her, she would die, and he'd be in more trouble than he could possibly imagine. The feel of her soul was not a pretty one, tendrils of violent emotions whipped through it, making him slightly nauseated. Hate, rage, love and ecstasy battled for moment to moment supremacy and control. To his imagination, the swirl of color was nauseating. Everything felt... wrong, off-color. The only stable parts of her self image seemed to be the emotional ties to the few people around her, her obsessive love for Ranma in his uncursed form, intense hatred for his cursed form, and a surprising amount of devotion to her older brother. Cursing inwardly, he reached out to touch her smooth skin with his hand, unprepared to use the knowledge he had picked up that afternoon, but faced with no clear alternative. His uncertainty made his work slow, and he carefully opened up his mental focus, risking being overwhelmed in an attempt to get a clearer view of the problem. As he touched her, the sensation of her became undescribably stronger. The surface emotions in her aura revealed their shadings, the powerful lust beneath the love, the bottomless depression beneath the hate. Sensations poured from her to him, fantasies and daydreams shared as they were never meant to be. The pure intensity of her desire startled him. Only by drawing on the self-image he used to keep himself sane in his cursed form could he maintain himself against the onslaught. For several moments he struggled, a light sweat breaking out on his forehead as he fought to gain control. Finally he managed to divert a portion of the overwhelming flow of impressions, concentrating on finding the missing block. He could almost feel the presence of Kodachi's self, but couldn't actually 'see' it through the chaotic aura. He tried to coax her out, let her take charge of her own body again. For a brief moment he wished that Cologne was here to help him. He still couldn't find a persona, only fleeting thoughts of self destruction interlaced among the flood of obscene and disturbingly erotic images with him as the focal point. Ranma was getting frustrated very quickly, both at his lack of success and at the growing arousal he felt under the bombardment. He wasn't a patient person to begin with, and his frustration had rekindled his anger. He couldn't understand the tangled mess of her spirit at all, it seemed so alien. Suddenly he could feel her again. Couched as an order, there was apparently little she could do to refuse him. Completely unsure what he was really doing, he forced her psyche back into control of her body by pure instinct. He drew his hand back, then sighed in relief. Her breathing shuddered and then resumed, at a much more normal rate and depth. Blinking, he mopped the sweat from his face, simultaneously trying to wipe away the mental image of exactly what her breasts had done during that shudder. Her eyes fluttered open, looking much wider and more vulnerable without the protective mask of makeup. The unhinged gleam was muted as well, real emotion filling its place. Her confusion was evident as she lurched up into a sitting position. *** Sitting at her desk, Akane worked the assigned physics problems with a detached portion of her thoughts. The majority of her mental power was focused rather tightly on her fiance. Namely, where he was, and what, exactly, she was going do to him when she found him. It wasn't uncommon for him to avoid her for a while after doing something as stupid or perverted as he'd done the day before. A tiny voice suggested she should be a little worried, since no one had seen him since then. She squashed it with a sort of ruthless anger that came rather naturally. It should, since she'd practiced doing it quite a bit since meeting that idiot half-boy. He always seemed to be dragging her into the chaos that surrounded him. At times she longed for the simplicity of life before Ranma had arrived. Then again, she'd had to deal with beating up the entire male population of Furinkan High every morning, then fend off Kunou afterwards. Now she only got kidnapped every second or third month. With a mental snort she wondered, Forcing herself to be honest, she admitted he did have at least a few good points. Sometimes he said the sweetest things to her, or tried so hard to make sure she was happy. And when she did get abducted, even if it was his fault, he did always show up to rescue her. Her life was definitely not dull anymore, by any definition of the word. She paused for moment, closing her eyes and listening to the sounds of the house. Kasumi was still cleaning up from dinner, and her father had obviously started his evening shogi game with Ranma's freeloading father. Nabiki hadn't been around, but that wasn't uncommon, as she always had someone to meet, somewhere to be. The quiet grated on her nerves, she was ready for the confrontation. Teaching that pervert a lesson and getting it over with would be a welcome tension reliever. Looking down at her paper, she started and reached for her eraser. The exercise had been a trajectory calculation, but she'd somehow used Ranma's mass instead of the supplied one. An amused little grin passed over her face for a moment. Or maybe it was pained. Had there been an observer, they might not have been able to tell the difference. Akane wasn't sure she could either. *** He rocked back on his heels again, still crouched beside Kodachi's legs. They were much closer than he would have found comfortable a few minutes earlier. Somehow he couldn't bring himself be afraid of her now, having seen what lay beneath the face she presented to the world. "Are you okay now?" She looked at him, pain and fear evident in her eyes. Inexperienced in manipulating ki in such ways, she'd gotten glimpses of his own emotions and brief thoughts across the link he'd built. For the very first time, she saw how another thought of her. With no protection, no defense, no way to filter those assessments through her own, now shattered, rationalizations. It tore at the few shreds of sanity she possessed to think he could hate her that much. "Do you really see me that way, Ranma-sama? Am I truly that repulsive?" The question had frozen him almost as effectively as the Choushi had frozen her. He couldn't lie, she had seen the part of his feelings he had held for her. But to say it aloud would hurt almost as much, or more. It would dash even her hope. Ranma wasn't a cruel person, but his silence was all the answer she needed. She turned her head away and down, letting her hair fall forward like a curtain to try and hide the tears leaking from her eyes. She mourned the loss of her illusions, the only comfort she'd had left in her life. Ranma crumbled inside. For all his supposed insensitivity and lack of social training, he went to pieces at the sight of a woman crying. He reached out and touched her shoulder softly. Getting no reaction, he rested his hand there, feeling the silk soft skin and satin smooth nylon of her leotard. "Hey," he still had gotten no reaction, but could see the tears slowly tracking down her face along the same path he had traced with his smudged finger earlier. "Hey. Come on. It's not that bad." All his efforts earned him was a half-choked sob. The panic rose inside again. He twisted, seating himself properly beside her, letting his arm encircle her shoulders. Gently, he squeezed, pulling her body closer to his. It came as a slight shock to realize she fit comfortably under his arm. He somehow had the impression she was taller, large as him, not at all like the tiny, delicate girl sobbing against him now. With his other hand he reached up and turned her chin towards him, trying to look into her eyes. "It's okay, I understand." And he did, there was no way he could avoid it after seeing that much of her inner self. For some reason this only made her weep harder, and she was having difficulty breathing through it. He hushed her wordlessly, holding her tightly until she managed to regain some semblance of control. With a broken and very small voice she asked, "How can you? I saw what you think of me. How can you understand, how can you ever forgive me?" She could see now that many of the tactics she'd used to try and win his love had been inexcusable by the standards he held himself to. Forgiveness was out of her reach. He could have gotten rid of her then. A few words, not even lies, and she would have left him alone forever. But it would hurt her greatly, something he could never do intentionally. So he didn't answer her immediately, blurting out something that would completely destroy what little confidence she had left. "Well... I can see you didn't really mean it, I could see what it was to you. It's hard to hold it against someone when they believe what they are doing is so completely right." More tears trickled down her cheeks, streaks of running mascara darkening the smudges of eye-shadow already there. She buried her head against his chest, the warm moisture soaking through his shirt. Despite the horrid things she'd done, despite the horrid thing she was, he could find it in him to forgive her. It almost hurt to think he would still allow his honor to be stained by speaking with her, let alone finding compassion for her. "I'm truly not worthy of you, Ranma-sama. Truly." "Don't say that." For the first time that night, his heart truly went out to her. No one should ever bear that much pain at once, especially alone. "You didn't know how to act, that it was wrong to do what you did. But now you do and you can get better. I believe in you." She pulled slightly away and locked gazes with him, eyes alight now with honest and simple pleasure, rather than maniacal glee. He voice was still soft and hesitant. "Do you really mean it?" Her heart was hammering in her chest, seeing the chance for salvation when darkness was all she had to hope for. This time there was no hesitation, for the same reason he had paused earlier, though it didn't grate this time. "Yes Kodachi, I do." Being Ranma, he was completely unprepared for her response. She tilted her head back and lunged upwards, planting her lips rather firmly against his. And as usual, Ranma's brain went off-line and he sat there, locked in her kiss. The sensation was quite pleasant, and his natural fear of Kodachi had been suppressed by his concern. Finally she backed away, short of breath, eyes wide, and with a very attractive flush on her cheeks. Her eyes glittered now, moist with tears again, filled with a honest lust that was tempered with real love. He gasped and the oxygen flooded through his system, kick starting his heart and, more importantly, what he liked to pass off as his brain. It didn't help much, and all he managed was a weak, "Wow." "Ranma-sama," she asked, "why am I tied up?" The shrug as she held up her hands made her chest move in way Ranma could only describe as 'a heaving bosom.' It made the blood rush away from his head again. He stuttered, "Well... er... that is. You, I mean..." She giggled cutely. "I think I understand, but could you please untie me?" Cute and Kodachi were not words Ranma tended to associate. Stacked yes, attractive sure, psycho until a few minutes ago. But certainly not cute. It did nasty things to his already overworked libido. In a mental haze he undid the ribbon from around her wrists and was rewarded with a fierce hug that forced her breasts against him. He noticed from his detached state that her nipples were still hard as they dug into his ribs. A dampness on his collarbone marked the point of contact between her lips and his shirt, a gesture that reminded him strongly of his unusual encounter with Nabiki earlier. A hand touched his thigh, and the fingers walked along the muscle towards his groin, dragging lightly. He knew he should move, knew that he should stop her from doing those pleasurable things, but he couldn't. His body refused to obey, trapped in the sensations, an insect in a web. Finally the fingers traced the seam of his pants, making him aware that he was very painfully erect as he shuddered at the touch. The desire that had been building in him all day finally was too much. He'd been bombarded all day by the erotic mental picture of Akane sans panties, of Kasumi's model perfect body as she leaned into the refrigerator. Nabiki had almost raped him, and regardless of the fact he'd actually initiated it. The dance of her hands and lips had aroused him greatly. And now he sat with a very pretty girl that was offering him the relief his body was demanding. Down inside him, another little spring shattered and Ranma's repressed lust exploded. Ranma brought his hand up and set it gently on the back of Kodachi's head, twining his fingers into the jet black hair. He tugged slightly, and her head followed the cue, pulling away from his chest. Looking into her eyes, he let his gaze do all the necessary communication, and for a moment found perfect understanding. She'd seen him as he'd seen her, his frustration and isolation, the chaos that surrounded him constantly, driving away the companionship he desired. He let his other hand come up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Tracing the line of her jaw downwards, he lightly grasped her chin and pulled her in, tilting her head to initiate a kiss. He could feel her whole body tense ever so slightly, shudder, and then relax against his. His hand trailed down her neck and brushed the top of her breast, before sliding down to her far side, caressing lightly. The kiss was growing more active, and she sucked one of his lips into her mouth, nibbling it softly. For some reason, it aroused Ranma greatly, so he retaliated by sucking on hers. It was the first passionate kiss he'd had the pleasure to participate in, but he had always been a fast learner. Kodachi, sensing his eagerness, broke the lip-lock, moving her kiss down to his chin and then along his jaw. She nipped lightly as she went. He occupied his mouth by planting quick kisses on whatever was available, the tip of her nose, her cheek, her jaw, and finally her lips as she completed her circuit. It took only slight pressure from the hand on her head to bring her to momentary stillness, drawing out the simple kiss. Her warm breath tickled the skin of his cheek, the pounding of her heart against his chest drove counterpoint to his own racing pulse. He let the hand on her side slip upwards, hesitantly cupping the underside of her breast. A slight moan into their kiss indicated how she felt about it. Emboldened by his success, he massaged her slowly, working the flesh under his palm. Again he was rewarded, the kiss growing deeper and slightly more intense. Her body bucked to push more of herself into contact with him. He touched the nipple, slowly feeling it under the pad of his finger, then grasped it with his thumb as well, giving a quick pinch to test it's firmness. She gasped, and jerked away from him, breaking the kiss. Sensing he had hurt her, he pulled back himself, drawing his hand away. "Sorry," he muttered, voice full of shame. She leaned back in, resting her forehead against his cheek. "It's okay." "Really?" "Yes." Apparently the concern in his voice had convinced her it was unintentional. She smiled at him and then kissed his neck, letting her tongue slip out to lick the sweat on his skin. Her hand, which had been resting on his thigh for the duration of the kiss, traced up along the seam of his pants again, drawing a throaty groan. Reaching his waistband, she slipped her hand inside, sliding along the burning skin of his abdomen. She worked downwards, running her fingers into the fringes of his pubic hair, twirling the strands around with the tip of a fingernail. All of sudden she grasped several of the fine hairs and tugged quickly on them. Ranma's eyes widened and watered slightly as he yelped in surprise. As he recovered from the shock, he noticed that Kodachi's whole body was shaking gently against his, and when he pushed her shoulders away, the soft giggling that had been muffled by his shirt could be heard. She pulled back and beamed an incredible smile at him, "There. Now we're even." The grin was interrupted by the tip of her tongue sticking out over her lower lip. "Why you!" he growled in mock anger before joining her laughter. "I'll show you." He silenced her giggling the quickest way he could, pulling her to him, smothering her mouth with his. The last gasps of mirth became gasps of pleasure. With more confidence this time, Ranma placed a hand back on her breast, restricting himself to caressing and massaging the mound of flesh. Her hand was still trapped by the elastic drawstring of his pants, so she caressed him, savoring the delicious combination of velvet soft skin, hard muscle, and hot pulsing blood. Focused on the sensations he was getting from his abdomen and the joy of exploring her soft flesh, he wasn't paying very much attention to the actual kiss he was engaged in. At least, until Kodachi stuck her tongue between his lips, swiping along the ridge of his teeth. It surprised him. He'd heard of this, but hadn't ever understood why it would be pleasurable. He decided he, in fact, liked it. Parting his mouth a little more, he sent his tongue after hers. They met, dueling for a bit. He changed his mind, he didn't like it. He really liked it. Abandoning her breast, he moved both hands to gently cup her face, throwing every bit of himself into that marvelous kiss. Her hand stayed put against his stomach, tracing slowly as they concentrated on their oral interplay. Finally he broke away from her lips, kissing up the line of her nose. He bussed her forehead with a closed mouth, resting for a second. "Wow," said Ranma again, mostly because he couldn't think of anything else to say. His normally limited vocabulary didn't cover situations like this. Kodachi put her head down against his chest, content to feel his pounding heart against her cheek as she continued her absent stroking. Ranma trapped her hand against him, then slowly drew it out of his clothing. He found his voice again, "If you keep that up, things will be over far too soon." Her smile wasn't seen- so much felt- against the muscles of his torso. She placed the wayward hand back on his stomach, toying with the ties on his silk shirt. "Oh Ranma-sama. Are you sure you want to do this?" "No." Her shoulders sagged against his side. "But I can't really imagine stopping now." He felt odd, the combination of joy and pure animal lust coursed though him. The bottom several ties were now undone, and she traced the hard lines of his stomach muscles with one of her finely manicured fingernails. Ranma didn't really want to consider what was about to happen. The sex drive he'd been suppressing for so long was rapidly boiling out of control. He'd never even really kissed anyone. At least, other than the times those perverts Kunou and Mikado had caught him off guard in his female form. And certainly, he'd never gone further. With three girls and his idiot father around he didn't even really have enough privacy to go through the normal teenage sexual exploration of either form. In a way, he felt robbed of that part of his life. It made him angry to even think about it. And in the end, it made up his mind. He'd reclaim that part of himself. However, Saotome Ranma's life had, at some point past, been possessed by the imp of perversity. As if summoned by his very thoughts, a pair of voices and matching pair of footsteps drifted through the cool night air. Operating on an instinct ingrained, rather than natural, he jerked himself away from Kodachi. As the sound of footfalls echoed from the bridge overhead, he looked guiltily over at her. The pain in her eyes was obvious, even to someone as occasionally insensitive as he knew himself to be. In his mind, the worst part was the understanding of what she was feeling. Not ten minutes earlier, he'd told her she wasn't repulsive, and then he recoiled from her like some viper in his bed. Some part of him considered moving back to her side, but the rest of him knew that the mood had been broken. A sense of shame filled him when he further realized that he was glad that they'd been interrupted. A couple of more minutes and he'd have been so caught up in the emotions he would have never noticed, or cared about, being interrupted. The damage to his situation would have been irrepairable, the fine balance utterly destroyed. The only reason it worked at all was because none of the girls had ever gotten a truly positive response out of him. As much as the growing ache in his groin made him want to continue, following through would cause a lot more pain for everyone. Time stretched between them like taffy, both parties still breathing heavily and locked eye-to-eye. Then, almost as one, they glanced away. Ranma hesitated minutely, then moved to her side. Sitting beside her as a friend, rather than a potential lover, he put an arm around her. "Sorry about this." To her credit, she managed to keep the trembling out of her voice. "Why should you be?" There was no anger or accusation in her delivery, only resignation. Still, he flinched, "Why shouldn't I be? I don't hate you or nothing." The silence that greeted him almost drowned out the beating of his heart. Finally he continued, desperate to fill the lull, "I don't. Really." The stillness of the park began to press on him from all sides, oppressive in its heaviness. Having exhausted his ability to express his emotion, he sat there in the dark, holding her to him. Ranma and Kodachi sat in utter silence for almost half an hour. Finally he couldn't bear letting his conscience fester any longer. He shifted away from her side, turning so he could actually face her. She didn't look up at him, in fact, wouldn't. He reached out a hand, touching his knuckle gently under her chin, guiding her face towards his. In her eyes was that deep pain again, and while he knew that it wasn't entirely his fault, he'd certainly opened the old wound again. As their gaze met, he tried to put his whole self into his words, to make her believe his sincerity. "I really am sorry. I don't hate you." After another pregnant pause, she closed her eyes, tears gathering at the corners. With surprising suddenness, she threw both arms around him, knocking him onto his back. He hesitated again, unsure, before wrapping her up in a hug. Quietly at first, she sobbed into his chest. Relief flooded through him as he realized that he'd done the right thing. he thought wryly. Success was a good thing, and following up on it was a skill he understood all too well. "Do you want to talk about it?" He felt more than saw her shake her head. "Are you sure?" Kodachi's voice was small, childlike. "Yes." *** The middle Tendou sister huddled on the cold floor in her darkened room, covers ripped off her bed and wrapped around her as armor against the world. Her stare completely ignored the far wall as her thoughts boiled in her head. Confusion, disgust and lust battled to control her reactions. It was all she could do to keep from breaking down into ragged sobs. A supreme effort of will allowed her to make it through the day without doing just that, which was why she sat alone in a locked room with the lights out. To lose control in front of her family, or worse, one of her classmates, would be a disaster. Tendou Nabiki had a reputation as something of an ice queen. She used that notoriety to its utmost advantage in her business dealings. But it was hard to instill a commanding presence when you burst into tears in front of a client. So up went the walls, isolating her from the hate and fear, the snide whispered comments, the rejection. They had held until that morning. Until Ranma... until he.... she wondered. He hadn't really done anything. She calmed herself, starting to slip back into her trademark detachment as she mentally analyzed the events. Things had gone more or less according to plan at first. Humiliation made to order. She'd even accounted for the fact that he might be angry enough to threaten violence. She thought she knew him well enough to know he wouldn't truly harm her. And he didn't really, the pain hadn't been all that great, she'd experienced worse from bruised knees and papercuts. And it had been worth it to give the idiot some of the same emotional pain he had caused her sister. Until all of a sudden everything had come apart. She shuddered slightly at the memory of the rage blazing in his eyes, the taut cords of muscle standing out on his neck, jaw clenched tightly. Holding her fear in place, she'd stared right back. Under control. There was a slight wrench as he'd tossed her wrist away, cursing her and turning to leave before his precious honor overrode his desire to do her harm. And that's when it had hit her. In her everyday life Nabiki was not a creature of emotions, she suppressed most of them completely and kept the rest under tight rein. But all her years of mastering herself had vanished under that tidal wave. She loved her family, but the need she felt had dwarfed familial devotion. Her soul burned for him, needed him, wanted him. That he was engaged to be married to her sister was irrelevant. The lust demanded that she have him. Take him. Fuck him. She tugged the covers around her tighter, forcing away the images of her and Ranma rutting. That's what she'd wanted, not to make love to him, not even to have sex. She'd wanted to fuck him, for him to fuck her, to go at it like two wild animals in heat. To feel his flesh pounding into hers. In the entire time that she'd known the sex-changing martial artist, she had never been so glad he was uneasy around women. He'd panicked when she'd come on, fending of her hormone driven advances long enough to escape through the window. If he hadn't she would have... they would have... she thought morosely, upset that he'd gotten away. As soon as she'd finished the idea, horror touched her soul. Never had she wanted to do that to anyone, even in her own fantasies. Through all the confusion one thing was becoming crystal clear. This was his fault. Just like Akane proclaimed again and again. Her loss of control was his fault. She couldn't forgive herself for allowing the emotions to overcome her, because she hadn't done it. He had. She didn't know how or why, but suddenly it didn't matter. Ranma was to blame. The realization was catalytic, her uncertainty vanished in flash, condensed into a core of anger. First her little sister, and now her. He was going to pay for this. Very dearly. And heaven help him if he hurt anybody else before she got to him. *** Ranma's mind was racing in circles again, going nowhere fast. Kodachi was still lying on his chest, mostly quiet, but occasionally crying softly. They'd been like that for some time now and the inactivity was beginning to chafe on him. It struck him as strange, when he was in motion he wanted to just find a place to stop and think, when he was at rest, he developed a need to do physical activity. A random memory told him it was one of those science laws, "objects in motion tend to rest," or something like that. After making some vague reassuring sounds at the girl lying atop him, he sat up, transferring her to his lap. She curled up against him like a child again, gripping his favorite shirt like a security blanket. "Are you okay now?" "Yes," she replied softly. Several times he opened his mouth to continue the conversation, only to shut it, unsure of how to phrase what he was trying to convey. Words had never been his strong point, except when required to get him into a fight. "Listen, Kodachi, I'm not so good with words, but I sort of need to say this. I never meant to to hurt you. Any of you, really. You all just never gave me a choice to say what I want, you just assumed I felt what you did. "It's not that I don't like you, as person and all, even though I don't know you that great. It's just... I don't know. I never really tried to have a girlfriend. The things with Akane and Ukyou were forced on me by Pops. Shampoo thinks her Amazon laws apply to me. And all the others say they have some claim on me too. Well, no one ever bothered asking what I thought." He fumbled for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. Before he could start again, she interrupted. "You never cease to amaze me, Ranma-sama. I think, that perhaps it might be I who should be apologizing to you." Relief flooded through him, he'd gotten the message. A quick chuckle slipped from his lips, followed by a longer one. Kodachi joined in with a weak laugh of her own. In a few seconds they were both laughing together. As they both began to calm down, the gymnast sobered. "So where do we go from here?" she asked, voice colored by fear and hope. "I dunno. I'd guess... uh... I'd settle for just being friends for now." "Friends." She rolled the word around her mouth, exploring it while her thoughts considered the concept. "I think I would like that very much Ranma-sama." The honorific made him cringe, "Errr... maybe you shouldn't call me that...." She winced in sympathetic reaction. "Perhaps there's an element of truth in that, Ranma-san." The honorific felt strange in her mouth, and tripped poorly off her tongue by comparison, but if it was what he wanted, she could not deny him it. He relaxed some. "Thank you, Kodachi-san." A blush heated her face as the fact that he'd referred to her as a social equal sank in. Meeting his gaze was becoming uncomfortable, so she turned her head, hoping to get her beating heart under control. It bothered him. Had he inadvertently offended her again somehow? He sighed to himself, that seemed to be the one thing he could do, without fail, when talking to any sort of female. Silence ebbed and flowed between them again, each lost in their own thoughts. It wasn't until he shivered in the cold that Ranma realized how late it had become. "It's getting late. You should get inside before you get sick." That leotard couldn't be much protection from the pervasive chill. She nodded, making a soft noise of agreement. It wasn't until she looked directly at him again that the sinking sensation hit his stomach. They both knew it needed to be said. The honor at stake was his, so he decided he should be the one to say it. "Kodachi-san, err... well... that is...." She looked at him with those horrible deep eyes, emotion welling in them. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came out. He forced himself to continue, rushing his words together as if taking less time would reduce the impact. "I don't think that we should say anything about this to anyone. We'd both get in a lot of trouble." Her reply didn't come for the space of several heartbeats, each of which was louder in his ears than the last. When it came at last, it was so quiet and brief he almost missed it. "Yes." He slowly stood, offering his hand to help her up, but avoided her eyes. He knew the hurt was there. Without thinking, the apology bubbled up from inside him again, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to be like this. I didn't want to hurt anyone." A soft finger over his lips put his babbling to a surprised end. What she said after that shocked him even more, "I understand. I don't blame you, Ranma-san. Thank you for helping me see what I was really like to you." He stood stunned, veritably locked in place as she gracefully retrieved her ribbon. As she slowly wound it around it's handle, working with great self-pride and dignity, he wondered how much of her he really had seen. It was certainly a wonder to see her act this way, rather than bounding around like a lunatic. The ribbon disappeared into her costume somewhere, and she looked around. Spotting the black roses in a pool of light next to the bridge, she took but two steps toward them. And then she turned, bolting into the night. He shivered again and turned to head home. *** Night was well under way when Ranma finally returned to the Tendou house. From his vantage point on the wall he could see that all the lights in the house were off, the occupants presumably gone to bed. Fortune had finally smiled on him for a moment, and it was about time. He skipped lightly across the yard and leapt to the roof, landing with the barest whisper of a sound. Rolling off the edge, he entered the window of the guest room he called his own. His worthless father was already fast asleep in his panda form. He crept to the closet, pulling out a change of clothes. As he'd walked back, he'd noticed his shirt and pants reeked with the stench of sweat and lingering traces of perfume and roses, on top of being stained with mud and the remainder of Kodachi's mascara. Avoiding unnecessary noise, he slipped out into the hallway, carefully checking that no one was up late. Down the stairs he went, careful as ever to avoid the third and eighth steps. Noise was his biggest enemy as he made his way stealthily to the bathroom. He slipped in, careful not to rattle the sliding door as he did. he thought, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Wasting no time, he shucked his grimy clothing, folding them up carefully. With a slight sinking feeling he discovered the shirt was totaled. A combination of makeup stains, holes, permanent creases and other dirt, there was no way it could ever be the same. Rather unfortunate in his opinion, as it was one of his favorite red silks. The pants weren't a write off, though it would take some work to get them clean and repaired, between the rips, dirt, and stains. Then it occurred to him, there was no way he could hand these to Kasumi and ask to have them washed. She wasn't nearly as oblivious as some people seemed to think, and she'd surely recognize the discolorations. He stood naked and stared stupidly at the now folded clothing, trying to come up with some way to get them clean. Taking them to a laundromat was out, his funds were dangerously low after his earlier shopping. Clamping his teeth, he stifled a scream of frustration, dropping the neatly folded garments from shoulder height, watching them tumble to the tile in a messy pile. He'd deal with it later, for now, getting himself clean was a higher priority. He turned the tap slowly, letting out only a trickle of cool water to fill the wash bucket. Anything more would cause the pipes to sing, and as he had pointed out to himself, he didn't dare get caught now. Finally the bucket accumulated enough water, and he carefully twisted the tap off again. Plopping down on a stool, he began to wash himself, rinsing off the sweat and dust. He had to scrub at places where the makeup had run onto his skin, dyeing it odd colors. As he worked, he thought about what had happened, the fact that he had nearly slept with one of the girls that he had been holding at arms length for nearly two years now. The physical act certainly would have been pleasurable, he could feel himself rising at the thought. Emotionally, it had been a roller coaster, panic and fear, something resembling tenderness and love, then the beginnings of the guilt. And there had been plenty of guilt. Akane was already angry and upset, not that Ranma found this unusual. He couldn't begin to imagine what sort of reaction there would be if she had found out. Ukyou and Shampoo would probably just take Kodachi's head off, and then come after his. He could see the faces of the other's now. Soun crying and carrying on, his parent's anger, Nabiki's predatory smirk, Kasumi's disappointment. He pondered that line of thought, briefly considering if he could somehow manage to have sex with all of his fiancees while keeping each a secret from the rest. Images of some of the girls at school he knew, of Hinako-sensei in her adult form, of Akane's sisters, flashed through his mind. All the women posed and preened for him. With a wistful sigh he turned back to his cleaning, nearly dropping the sponge when he realized he had been absently stroking himself during his daydream. Risking the tap again, he refilled the bucket with fresh water. He stared into the rippled surface, watching the reflections of the dim light from outside. Raising the bucket slowly over his head, he tipped, letting the water run fall to his head and course over his body, removing the last traces of evidence. The water was still cool and he felt the semi-familiar full body shudder run through him, parts contracting and tightening as others expanded. He had hoped the water would be warm enough to not trigger the curse. Apparently not, and now he didn't dare run enough for it to become hot enough to reverse the change. Instead he sighed, slowly toweling himself dry, resigned to sleeping as a female. The towel went into Kasumi's laundry basket as he started to dress. It never ceased to amaze him how much difference a set of dry and clean clothes could make in how he felt about himself. For the first time all night, he was warm and comfortable and the heavy issues could be put aside til later. Gathering the pile of dirty garments he crept back up to his room, again taking care to make no unnecessary sounds. As the door closed behind him, Ranma heaved another sigh of relief. The incriminating evidence was balled up and put into the training backpack that sat on the floor of the closet, untouched for months. he thought. Bone-weary, the young martial artist crawled into his futon, pulling the blankets around him as he drifted off to sleep. *** The dreams of the inhabitants of the Tendou's were uniformly uneasy that night. For some it was a painful recounting of recent events, for others ill omens of what was to come. Soun thrashed in his futon, his nightmares intense but familiar. They had been his constant companions since his wife had died more than 10 years ago. A painful recollection of what he should have done, looking back with the clarity only hindsight ever provides. For his long time friend, Genma, the dreams were simply dark and unpleasant. The middle-aged master of the Arts recognized them as the ones that generally preceded him running from whatever sort of mess he'd managed to land in. Kasumi's night wasn't as peaceful as some of her family and friends would have guessed. The righteous sleep of the innocent was denied to her, as she spend her repast atoning for all the wrongs she'd perceived in herself. Her mother had been the ideal woman, housewife, and parent, and she could never live up to that. The middle sister slept poorly indeed, interrupted periodically by a nameless horror that evaporated on waking, but left a strange sense of dread every time she closed her eyes again. Nabiki would never admit it, even to herself, but the past two days had rattled her badly. For Akane, the uneasiness of slumber was no stranger either. She tossed and turned as always, the twin burdens of anger and resentment surfacing occasionally in the fantasies of night. Her favorite pet and sleeping companion was missing too, as often was the case. Ranma's torpor was the deepest in the house, but like the others filled with a sense of persistent apprehension. His dreams reflected the growing tension he felt, as the world he'd built began to disintegrate around him. There was no doubt the careful stasis of the past two years was about to explode, and he only hoped it wouldn't consume everything. *** The blame for this whole mess goes to Sean Gaffney and, indirectly, Lara Bartram. I was pre-reading for Sean's "Complete Control" (inspired and heavily prodded by Lara) and he took it in a direction he hadn't intended to. I asked to take it the other direction. Oh, I also blame Mike Loader, because all fics seem to be his fault in some fashion or another. ;) Thanks to the following people for pre-reading, proof reading, advice, ideas, prodding, and other help: Thom Youngblood Sean Gaffney Lara Bartram Mike Loader Nick Leifker James 'Zen' Bateman Rod 'RPM' Malapitan Chris Bremer Trisha Sebastian David Tai and the rest of the KawaiiMUCK people who have kibbitzed on the accuracy of the situations and characters. plus all the people on the FFML who gave comments, corrections, and encouragement (Jamie and Bridget Wilde, David Eddy, John Lemon, Brian M, Sean Murphy, Mark Permo, Thomas Kinnon, and the rest) The characters, environment, and most back-story were created by Takahashi Rumiko-sensei and appear without any form of permission on her part, or that of any of the interests representing her or owning rights to such. I have attempted to stay as true to my interpretation of the canon as possible, though due to the story, and the need for certain plot points, some extrapolation has obviously occurred. The title translates roughly as 'To Use the Will' As with all my works, I give express permission for anyone to use the characterizations, ideas, plots, and incidental characters contained within. Side stories are welcome, though you might want to make a note where in the continuity they fit, since I may extend either before or after something I've already written. -DaR -- Dan Root - dar@thekeep.org