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.
<I only wish I could actually read the words properly,> 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. <All I want...
is to be left alone long enough to figure out what the hell is
going on!> 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. <Very well,> 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. <Like the tears of a clown. It's almost poetically
appropriate.> 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. <Geez, what am I doing? This is Kodachi, not...> 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. <It may be Kodachi, but killing her
is a bit harsh.> 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.
<Get back here now!> 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, <Is that supposed to be an
improvement?>
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. <Too bad I sounded like a bad TV drama,> 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....
<He what?> 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...
<I don't need to go there,> she thought morosely, upset that he'd
gotten away. As soon as she'd finished the idea, horror touched
her soul. <How could I think that?> 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. <Well, I suppose this is a battle of some
sort.>
"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. <How many times have I wished he'd just
acknowledge me as a person, let alone treat me with respect?>
Meeting his gaze was becoming uncomfortable, so she turned her
head, hoping to get her beating heart under control.
<Why did she look away?> 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.
<Sometimes I think Pops likes it more than his real 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. <Whew,> 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. <I'll never understand how women can stand to put that
on their face every day and take it off every night.>
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. <Oh, hell, why stop at fiancees?>
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. <Akane
is right, maybe I am some sort of pervert.>
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.
<Should be safe enough there until I can get them cleaned,> 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