Subject: [ORIG/RANMA][DARK]Twelfth Night - Chapter 4 [DRAFT]
From: Shuma Gorath
Date: 1/11/1998, 6:02 PM
To: Fanfiction Mailing List

Hmm...  This chapter isn't all that dark.  In fact, it isn't dark at all.
Just setup mostly...  I think...  Who knows?

<insert standard disclaimer here>

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"When staring at the person who's brought hell down upon you, turn the
other cheek.  Preferably his."
-Anonymous

	Genjuro sat in the kissaten sipping his hot coffee mindlessly.  He
gazed out at the spot where the proverbial snowball turned into the
avalanche and changed his life permanently.  He shook his head and turned
back to his immediate business.  In one hand he held his coffee, in the
other he had a folded map of Nerima.  He could see four schools in the
area.  It bothered him immensely.  It was going to be very difficult
tracking down the two nameless faces he could remember.  He'd have to
visit the four schools in the immediate area, before even bothering to
make any inquiries about the two.
	He sighed and drank his coffee as quickly as he could before
standing and straightening his black suit.  Genjuro paid the small bill
and then went on his way, wondering just how long it would take before he
would find the boy and old man.

	Ranma jogged along the fence, keeping in line with Akane as they
ran towards Furinken High School.  He didn't particularly savor heading to
school.  After all, he always fell asleep in class, put up with the usual
insanity, and the physical punishment from having one fiance or another
show up and trigger Akane's temper.  It simply wasn't something he really
enjoyed doing, even though it was simply routine for him.
	"Airen!" a bubbly accented voice cried out.
	Ranma grimaced as Shampoo fixed herself to Ranma's right arm.
	"You take Shampoo on date you promised now, yes?"
	Ranma rolled his eyes.  He didn't need to respond.  Despite
Shampoo's broken Japanese, she still managed to ask all the right leading
questions.  It didn't matter what he said as long as Akane heard the
question.  Ranma knew what was coming next and braced for impact.
	"Ranma you insensitive jerk!  I can't believe you asked that
airheaded Amazon out on a date!"
	Ranma simply rolled as best he could with the blow.

	Genjuro walked out of the high school uneasily, drawing a red 'X'
through the school on his map.  Two high schools visited and still no feel
for the territory.  Granted, he knew these things took time, but he
couldn't shake the feeling that things were right under his nose.
	The sudden collision with a young lady abruptly halted his train
of thought.
	"Excuse me," he apologized.
	Genjuro extended a helping hand to the petite redhead at his feet.
She simply ignored it and got up from the ground, dusting herself off and
spraying a bit of water around.
	Genjuro looked on as the water spattered the front of his pants.
He noticed a rather large wet spot on his suitcoat and grimaced.
	"Uh, sorry 'bout that," the girl stated bluntly.
	Genjuro looked at the wet spot and then back at the girl with an
arched expression.
	"Are you in the habit of running about soaked through?" he asked
dryly as he pulled a handkerchief to blot the damp spots on his suit.
	"Sorry.  I need to get to school," she replied hastily and turned
to run off.
	"Excuse me, but do you go to school at Koholz?" he asked quickly.
	"No, why?"
	"Tomobiki?"
	"No.  Look, I gotta get going," she said hastily and tried to
leave.
	"Furinken High School?"
	"Yeah," she replied.  She stopped and turned to look at Genjuro
warily.
	"You wouldn't happen to know about a short little old man that-"
	"Runs around and steals women's underwear?  Makes life horrible?"
she finished for him.  The redhead smiled bitterly.
	Genjuro's mind clicked to attention immediately.
	"Look, pal," she said plainly, "everyone wants a piece of
Happosai.  Heck, I wish I could get my hands on his scrawny little neck
and squeeze, but I can't.  Get in line with the rest of the women and men
he's screwed over.  What's it to you anyway?" she asked suspiciously.
	"It means a lot to me," Genjuro replied with a sigh.
	"Your girlfriend get somethin' stolen?"
	"Yes, she did," Genjuro replied smoothly.
	The redhead laughed.
	"Like I said before, get in line.  He's got who knows how many
people lookin' for his head.  Nobody's caught him before," she said sizing
Genjuro up.  "And I doubt you're going to get him either."
	With that she turned and ran off down the street and turned a
corner.  Genjuro watched and filed away the name: Happosai.  The short old
man was Happosai.  One piece of the puzzle fit in place.  All he needed to
do was find Happosai and persuade him to talk about a few things.
	Somewhere, deep in Genjuro's soul, a small spark lit again and
another small flame of sulfur and brimstone started to burn in the void
where his heart was.

	Ranma turned the corner and hopped onto a wall and then to the
neighboring rooftop.  He was over an hour late.  Shampoo was becoming more
and more persistant and harder to shake off when she gave chase.  It'd
taken a long time to lose her in the maze of houses and bridges around the
small canal.  To top it off, he'd fallen into the canal, only to run
headlong into a businessman on his way back to school.
	The man he'd run into was horribly odd, but that wasn't anything
new.  He was looking for Happosai.  That wasn't horribly new either, in
fact he could have been a hundred people Ranma knew that wanted to get rid
of the old pervert, including himself.  Something about the old man always
got Ranma into trouble.  Luckily, the stranger in the suit seemed to be
fixated on the old master.
	"Hope he gets what he deserves," Ranma muttered as he pulled into
Furinken High.
	His thoughts regarding Genjuro disappeared in an instant as he
tried to make up an excuse for being late and find hot water at the same
time.  Hinako-sensee was not going to be happy.

	Ukyou looked up from the grill as the small bell on the door
chimed.  A tall well-dressed stranger walked into the restaurant blotting
a small wet spot on the right side of his suit coat.  He took off the
small sunglasses he wore, slipping them into the inside breast pocket of
the suit coat.
	"What can I get ya?" Ukyou asked as the man sat down at the bar.
	"Special number two," he said with a small smile.
	Ukyou tossed the ingredients on the grill, working with practiced
ease.  She looked up to see the man poring over a small map of Nerima and
crossing off buildings as he went.
	"You looking for something?" she asked.  Ukyou noticed that most
of the local high schools were crossed off.
	"Looking for a particular high school for my little girl," the man
said.
	"Really?  How old is she?" Ukyou asked brightly.
	She was thirteen when she died, Genjuro's mind screamed, only
thirteen!
	"Fourteen," he replied smoothly.
	"Wow!  That'd put her in my class!" Ukyou said amicably.  "I go to
Furinken, it's pretty close to here."
	Genjuro raised an eyebrow.
	"So why aren't you in class now?" he asked, slightly surprised.
	"I've got to run this place," Ukyou said, waving a small spatula
and grinning.
	"What about her?" Genjuro said, pointing at what appeared to be a
waitress.
	"Konatsu?  I don't think he could run this place himself," she
said plainly.
	Genjuro looked over at what he thought was the waitress and raised
an eyebrow.
	"He?"
	"Yeah, he's a little strange, but he's a hard worker," Ukyou
whispered.  "But don't tell him I told you that.  I just got him to stop
publicly declaring his love for me and all that, you know."
	Genjuro simply nodded as the food was passed to him.  He watched
the okonokiyaki chef walk over to help another new customer.  She was
someone who might know something.  The ex-yakuza ate his fill and paid his
bill walking out into street again, wondering if he should return later on
in the evening to try to obtain information.

	Ranma bolted out from school looking both ways and behind him.
Akane was rehearsing for a Shakespearean play the drama club was going to
perform in a month.  As far as he could tell, Shampoo didn't know about
it, Ukyou might have known but hadn't appeared yet, and Kodachi certainly
had no idea yet.  The walk home alone would have to be fast to prevent
anyone from trying to catch him during the two weeks Akane would be busy
with rehearsals.
	He looked around furtively again and bolted down the street.

	Genjuro walked down the street, stopping to buy a roll at a small
streetside bakery attended by a young girl that peered at him with a cute
smile.  She didn't look a year over ten.
	"Mister, you want to buy something?" she beamed.
	"Sure," Genjuro said with a friendly grin.
	"You want to buy a steamed bun mister?"
	"Of course.  Did you make them?"
	"No, but my mom did!"
	Genjuro choked back bitter tears as images of Yukiko's childhood
and family picnics played through his mind.
	"You okay, mister?"
	Genjuro snapped to attention, breaking out of his sad reverie.
	"No, I'm fine.  Nothing's wrong," he said with a forced smile.
	"Are you causing trouble again, Keiko-chan?" a voice drifted from
behind Genjuro.
	He turned to see a young girl sporting a high school uniform walk
past him into the shop and toss her bag behind the counter.
	"I'm being a good girl!" Keiko pouted.  "Okaasan said I could
watch the counter!"
	Genjuro laughed genuinely for the first time in a year.  It felt
good, driving away the ghosts and nightmares of his past.  The feeling
didn't last long.  A blur sped past him bumping into him and knocking him
to the ground.  As he got up from the ground, Genjuro brushed himself off,
muttering an insult under his breath.
	He looked over his shoulder to see a familiar face speeding away,
shouting an apology.  Genjuro didn't hear it, nor did he notice the
lavender blur speeding afterwards.
	"Sir?  Would you like to get something?  Sir?" the girl called.
	"Mister, you wanna get a roll?" the young girl asked.
	Genjuro absently pull a few yen notes on the countertop.  Keiko
giggled and snatched the bills and heaped three rolls onto the countertop.
Genjuro's eyes never left the street.
	"Do you know that boy, mister?" Keiko asked curiously.
	Genjuro mutely shook his head.
	"Oneesan likes him a lot!" Keiko giggled.
	"Keiko!  Please," the young girl exclaimed.
	Genjuro cast a curious glance at the older sister.
	"Do you know who that young man is?"
	"That's Ranma," she said in a dream-like state.  Her eyes glazed
over temporarily.  
	"He's a martial artist, the best there is," she continued.  "Too
bad he's got two fiances or something like that.  He's always got girls
chasing him," she pouted.  "You want to get in touch with him or
something?"
	"You gonna challenge him to a fight, mister?" Keiko asked
excitedly.
	"Maybe," he replied with a wink and a roguish grin.  "I don't
think I'm going to do that over getting my suit dirty though."
	"You should talk to Nabiki Tendo," the older sister said plainly
as she picked up her bag and a roll from the pile in the class case behind
the counter.  "She's the one to talk to if you need anything about Ranma.
Just be ready to pay a lot of money for it though."
	Genjuro watched the girl walk back into the kitchen.  He turned to
look at Keiko looking at him with bright eyes.  For a second, his rage and
hate dissolved, only to have the burning images of his family surge forth,
smothering his happiness.
	"You can trust oneesan," the little girl beamed.
	Genjuro smiled and picked up his food, handing one to the little
girl who accepted it happily.
	"There you go, Keiko-san.  Thanks for the help!" he smiled.
	Keiko beamed.
	"Thanks, mister!" she said happily as she munched away at the
roll.
	Genjuro turned and walked down the street, following the path into
the depths of his soul, the path his heart set for him before it was
obliterated.  He would never turn back again.


*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*
Ethan Tsai
1 N. College Street
Northfield, MN 55057

TSAIE@Gridley.ACNS.Carleton.edu
http://public.carleton.edu/~tsaie/ethan.html