DiScLaImEr:  Rumiko Takahashi and a bunch of rich corporations own all 
the characters in this fic.  My use of them in no way is meant to
undermine those claims, and suing me would be a huge waste of time.
If, for some reason, you actually think this meager tribute to RT's
genius deserves to be further distributed, you may do so, so long as
you: a) reprint this disclaimer; b) give me credit (blame?) for the
story and; c) don't actually sell it (Yeah, like that's a concern!).

And now, on with the fic.

Sligth revisions here.  The main addition is Nabiki's phone call, 
although a lot of errors/style points have been cleared up, as well.
Many thanks to all those who sent in comments, critiques an quibbles.

*****************
* Illuminations *
*****************

**************************
* A Ranma 1/2 Fanfiction *
**************************

***************
* By Freemage *
***************

*Author's Note:  This story draws on both the anime and the manga.

 This is a dark story, with several sexually suggestive scenes,
 although no outright Lemon scenes.  If such material offends or
 disturbs you, please consider not reading this story--Unless, of
 course, you like being offended and/or disturbed....

  Thoughts are denoted by {X}, text by [X].  Panda signs will
 also be denoted by [X], if I decide that what this fic _really_
 needs is a skinless Panda-Zombie.*

                    **********************
                    * Chapter Twenty-One *
                    * Run-Around         *
                    **********************


    Nabiki groaned softly and let her eyes slit open.  {Dammit. 
 I'm getting a little sick of waking up to open windows.  If it's
 Ranma-kun again....}  Letting the many possible revenges for
 disturbing her beauty rest simmer on a back burner, the middle
 daughter of Soun Tendou rose and went over to her window, the
 source of the offending draft.

    No one was there.  Sliding the window shut, she turned to see
 if P-Chan had perhaps left, but no, the cursed boy, still in his
 porcine form, was on a pillow, sleeping off the effects of
 massive exposure to nude Tendou daughters.

    Nabiki smirked in the darkness.  {If we'd had Kasumi there,
 he'd have probably slipped into a full-blown coma.  Sweet, in a
 pathetic sort of way.}

    She shook her head.  She'd been having that sort of thought
 an awful lot, just lately, and was really not sure how she felt
 about it.

    {Oh well, time fo--}  Her thoughts slammed to a halt as she
 saw them.  Roses.  Blood red and midnight black, the bouquet sat
 on her desk like an imp waiting for an unwary moment when it
 could steal her breath.

    Hand trembling, she reached for the card, prepared to dive
 away at the first sign of traps or gas bombs.  She removed the
 small slip of cardboard without incident, then stepped away
 quickly.

    In the glint of moonlight coming through the window, she read
 the words over and over, shaken by a nameless dread:

       [Nab-chan, hope you feel better.  Can't wait to hear
     from you again.  In the meantime, I'll keep the photos
     from our last get-together.  Unless, of course, you'd like
     me to send them to your family?
     P.S.--You really should wear less revealing negligees--you
     never know who might come slipping into your room.]

    Suddenly overcome by nausea and a feeling of violation, she
 raced out of her room and down the hall.  She barely made it to
 the bathroom, where vomit and bile blended with tears of bitter
 shame.

   ***********************************************************

    Akane tried to remember how she had gotten tangled, and
 couldn't.  All she knew was that the cat's cradle of ropes
 holding her also kept her from plummeting into the nameless
 horrors shrouded by the mist that writhed underneath her.

    Looking into the darkness above her, she made out a monstrous
 figure, a figure which radiated both hunger and compassion.  She
 cringed involuntarily as the figure drew out a huge knife and
 started cutting the ropes, one by one....

    As the snarl came somewhat loose, and Akane felt herself drop
 for a brief(?) distance before being brought up short, she
 finally broke her paralysis and cried out, "Stop!  Why are you
 doing this?"

    The answering voice wrapped itself around her like a blanket,
 even as the knife continued its relentless assault.  "Because
 it's what must be done.  Your pride won't allow me to help you.
 Unless...."

    "Unless?  Unless what?"  She now swung precariously by only a
 handful of ropes, some as slender as a kite's string.

    "Unless you set aside your pride, Tendou Akane.  Beg for
 mercy, and it shall be yours."  The knife cut the second-to-last 
 rope, and now Akane hung by a mere thread over the reaching fog.

    Akane looked about helplessly.  She peered, first at the
 mists, then at her... savior?  captor?  ... and finally at the
 knife that held her fate.  And her answer rose up, the only
 answer she could have given.

    "Go to Hell!"

    And so the blade cut, and she fell, screaming, into the
 mists.

    Only to land, unharmed and on her feet, a moment later.

    As she stood trying to catch her breath, she realized there
 was a noise coming from behind her.  She took a moment to
 process this information simply because the noise was so out of
 place here, wherever "here" was.  It was the sound of clapping.

    She turned, and nearly facefaulted at the sight of Cologne,
 smiling and applauding gently.

    "Now I begin to see why Son-i--why Ranma always chose you in
 the end, Akane.  You have a wonderful spirit."

    "Wait a minute!  Cologne?!  Ranma said something about--you
 mean this is all a dream?  None of it's real?"

    Cologne allowed a grumpy look to cross her features.  "Of
 course it's a dream--but who's to say it's not real, too?  You
 continually deny your feelings for your fiance, as he does for
 you, and yet those feelings are still real.  So what difference
 does it make that this place exists only in your mind?  Maybe the
 metaphor is still true, and maybe we can each construct our own
 realities by force of will.  Perhaps you are actually awake, now,
 and all the rest of it is the dream.  Or maybe you have just been
 eating too much of your own cooking before bedtime."

    Caught between at least four different competing reactions,
 Akane settled for gaping like a fish out of water.

    "Bah!  We don't have enough time for me to instruct you in the
 mysteries of the Universe, and most of my lessons wouldn't make
 any sense to you at this time.  I need to communicate with your
 group, and Ranma's dreams are... inhospitable right now, and I
 don't know when I shall get another chance."

    Finally, her instincts took over.  "Well, good!  Maybe a few
 bad dreams will teach that idiot not to run when things are
 getting tough!"

    "Oh, come now, Child.  You don't really believe that, do you?
 Has Ranma ever shown himself to be a coward?  Can't you think of
 any other reason why he might have removed himself?"

    "But he said--"  Cologne cut her off with an imperious wave.

    "Feh!  'He said,' indeed!  I'll tell you what, Child, I am
 not going to hit you."  She promptly rapped Akane over the head
 with her staff.

    "Hey!"

    "Now, which was more important:  what I said, or what I did?"

    Akane grimaced.  "What you did."

    Cologne crowed in triumph.  "There is hope for this
 generation after all!  Now, why might Ranma have left, and why
 might he have lied to you about it?"

    "Ummm... Because he wants to keep me out of trouble, and
 because he thinks I won't follow him if I'm mad?"

    "Yes!  Congratulations.  Now, what are _you_ going to do
 about it?"

    "I'm gonna find him, I'm gonna help him--whether he wants it
 or not--and then, when this is all over with, I'm gonna kick his
 butt into the next week."

    "Excell--"  The crone's praise was cut off as she burst into
 a pillar of flame.

    Akane sat up in bed, breathing heavily.  She whispered to the
 shadows of her room, "Ranma, you'd better let me find you...."

   ***********************************************************

    Sergeant Abe Hiroyuki sat at his desk, shaking his head
 sadly.  It had been a rough way to start off the morning.  The
 young boy had seemed so sincere.

    Sgt. Abe's sympathy had been genuine when he had told
 the young man--what was his name?  Oh yes, Happousai--when he
 had told Happousai that he couldn't release any information at
 all about the bombing of the Maiden's Luck.  After all, the boy
 was obviously just looking for some solace in knowing how went
 the investigation of the explosion which had killed his fiance.

    If it had been up to him, the sergeant would have just let
 the boy have a quick peek at the file while his back was turned.
 Orders from high up, however, were quite clear.  Under no
 circumstances was any member of the public to be given
 information pertaining to the investigation.

    The official line was that this was to preserve the integrity
 of the investigation.  Sgt. Abe's opinion was that this was to
 preserve the reputations of the officers in charge of the
 investigation, who had turned up nothing of relevance, at least
 as far as Abe knew.

    He sighed.  Covering the Brass' Asses was one of his least
 favorite chores, especially when it meant he couldn't even
 reassure a teenager mourning his fiancee.  Instead, he had been
 forced to try to console the lad as best he could, without
 actually telling him anything.  It was a shame, really.

    Sgt. Abe went back to the file room to retrieve some
 paperwork on a missing-child report.  When he entered, a sharp
 wind cut across his face, nearly making him drop his coffee.

    {Odd.  That window isn't supposed to be open.}  He closed the
 offending portal, then went over to the cabinets.  And froze.

    The top file drawer was open--not by a lot, but enough that
 he knew there was no way it could have been left that way by
 accident.  Capt. Hino was a bear when it came to order in the
 records areas, and numerous reprimands had drilled into his
 underlings just how vital it was to their careers to keep him
 happy in this regard.

    On a hunch, Sgt. Abe opened the drawer.  He found himself
 unsurprised to see that the file on the bombing was sticking up
 the tell-tale half inch.  Only the greenest of recruits under
 Hino would have dared to leave a file looking like that, and all
 the men on the bombing case were double-digit veterans.  Sgt.
 Abe had no doubt about what had happened here.  He was just
 uncertain what to do about it.

    On the one hand, he had a break-in that had lead to no theft
 or property damage.  On the other, he had a superior who would
 ream him and every other officer in the building for allowing
 unauthorized civilians into his precious filing room, and who
 would turn the city upside down in a manhunt for the
 perpetrator.

    Looking at it in that light made it clear that there was not
 decision to make at all.  He carefully pushed the file down
 until it was flush with the others, then closed the drawer,
 taking extra care to make sure it was locked.  He went to the
 drawer with his original quarry, and returned to work.

   ***********************************************************

    Akane and Nabiki made their way to school, passing down the
 street without much conversation, until Nabiki turned to her
 sister with a sigh and said, "All right, Akane, out with it."

    Akane tried to seem unaware of what her older sister was
 talking about, but she failed utterly.  "Okay, I need you to
 help me with something."

    Nabiki's eyebrow rose.  "My, that was quick, wasn't it?  So
 what do want me to do?"

    "I want you to cover for me at school today, and then tonight
 when you get home, too."

    Nabiki nearly facefaulted.  "And what, pray tell, are you
 going to be doing during this time, as if I couldn't guess?"

    Akane blushed, but pressed on.  "I'm going to go find Ranma. 
 If I can't find him, then I'll give up and come back tomorrow. 
 If I do find him, though, I won't be back until _he_ comes back
 with me."

    "Akane...."  Nabiki struggled to find the right words.  "Have
 you considered the possibility that he doesn't want to be
 found?"

    "Yes, and I know why, I think.  I also think you can guess
 the real reason he took off, too."  Akane pressed on, failing
 to catch Nabiki's guilty flinch.  "Nabiki, I know... I know I'm
 not in his league as a fighter....  But if he and I are going
 to have any chance together at all, then I have to know that I
 can stand by him when things are tough."  Nabiki could read the
 growing fear in her younger sister's eyes.  "I know I should
 probably just stay out of his way, but th-that's what Ukyou
 did, and I don't want to end up like that."

    "Akane, I don't know....  This is pretty big, you know."

    "Yes, I know that, Nabiki.  That's why I want you to take
 this--it'll help you set up a cover story."  With those words,
 Akane shoved a large wad of bills into Nabiki's hands.  "I've
 been so busy and distracted lately that I haven't had much of
 an opportunity to spend my allowances," she explained with a
 weak grin.

    Unbidden, the words from the note her "admirer" had left
 came back to Nabiki:  "Can't wait to hear from you... unless
 you'd like them sent to your family...."

    Aloud, she said, "Akane, congratulations.  You've just made
 me an offer I can't refuse."

    She pushed the bills into her purse, and as her sister took
 off down a side-street, Nabiki prayed she wasn't making the
 worst mistake of her life.

   ***********************************************************

    Akita Sakue sighed.  The boredom she felt threatened to
 totally overwhelm her.  The life of an office girl in the bowels
 of the Immigration Department was not all wine and roses;  more
 like vinegar and thorns.

    She was so lost in her thoughts on the injustice of it all
 that she failed utterly to notice the styrofoam panel in the
 ceiling over her head rise up into the space between her floor
 and the one above.

    She did notice the faint sound of feet landing behind her,
 but before she could even think about turning around, her head
 was caught in a vise-like grip that ended with a hand sealing
 her mouth shut.

    She was still trying to grasp her situation when an arm--a
 woman's arm, no less--was thrust in front of her field of
 vision.  The whispered question, "Understand?" seemed to come
 from impossibly close to her ear.  She nodded.  How could anyone
 in Japan fail to understand the threat implicit in that
 tattoo-covered arm?

    Yakuza.  To deviate from whatever she was told would mean
 death, she knew.  The arm was quickly removed from her sight.

    Then the voice whispered again, and she began to understand
 what was required of her.  A few quick moments of typing secured
 the information she was asked for--records on the immigration
 status of the owner and employees of a Chinese restaurant in the
 Nerima Ward.  She had no idea why her unwelcome visitor wanted
 the information, and she didn't care.  Although given the name
 of the place, she figured it was probably a prostitution
 front--maybe one that had failed to pay proper dues to the
 oyabun.

    A few more whispered commands, and some more records were
 called up.  Her captor seemed to pore over this screen for a
 long time, then uttered a few final commands.  Nothing
 unexpected:  "Don't turn around.  Tell no one what has happened.
 You will not be harmed."  Nothing unexpected, that is, until the
 hand had released her, and her assailant had retreated back into
 the building's innards.  Faintly, as she sat trying to hold back
 her sobs, she heard a voice say, "I'm sorry...."

    Akita Sakue sat long enough to be sure she had retained her
 composure, and then very quietly fled the building, praying with
 all her soul that the rest of her life would consist of nothing
 but unending monotony.

   ***********************************************************

    Soun carefully drew back the door to the outer bathroom.  He
 knew it was a foolish risk, but even after his somewhat
 accelerated healing from the oni, he was still too stiff to make
 the jump up to the attic, and the stairs were still unrepaired.

    Kasumi had left about an hour ago, and Nodoka had just
 announced her intention to bathe.  He couldn't resist the
 opportunity.

    Pausing long enough to make sure there had been no reaction
 to the door's slight movement, he carefully peeked through the
 small slit he had created between the door and the frame.

    And met the eye of Nodoka Saotome.

    He struck the wall opposite the bathroom door with enough
 force to reform some of the bruises on his back.  As he tried to
 stammer out some kind of rational excuse for his behavior, Nodoka
 reached out and firmly placed a hand over his mouth.

    And smiled.

    "Oh, you don't have to explain, Tendou-san.  I understand."

    "Y-you do?"

    "Of course.  It's been many years for you, Tendou-san...
 almost as many as it's been for me."

    Soun's heart began to drown out his hearing.

    "In many ways, it's a relief, actually.  While I know my
 husband is truly a manly man, it has been long since I believed
 he was honorable in all ways.  It is good to see that Ranma has
 another role model, one who is manly, and who does not shirk his
 obligations."

    She slid closer to him; he could have sworn he felt the
 warmth of her body across the slight gap between them.

    "I want you to know, Tendou-san, that-that I want this, too.
 When Genma and I are back together, we can't ever speak of it
 again, but... but for now, I want to... to--"  Her voice failed her
 with a sharp sob.

    He looked at her, and realized there was no doubt in his own
 mind, or his own heart.  He knew there would be problems,
 ramifications;  it didn't matter.  He would care for her, and
 take her in, and deal with all the rest later.

    As that final frustrating inch between them closed, their
 robes fell to the floor.  Neither of them noticed the other
 occupant of the hallway, who had entered only a moment before.

    At least, not until its oversized incisors sank into Soun's
 ankle with much more force than would be expected for such a
 small pig.

   ***********************************************************

    Ii Go watched the video tape from the security cameras over
 the open-air market one more time.  He had never seen anything
 like it.
 
    The redhead was the obvious one.  She bounced over booths,
 slipped under tables, and did everything else possible to avoid
 being seen by the girl with the short dark hair, who was
 obviously looking for someone.  The weird thing about it was
 that Darky, as he was calling her, seemed to be asking the booth
 vendors who told her no the first time a second question, and
 judging by her hand gestures, using a completely different
 description.  It was almost like she wasn't sure who she was
 looking for.

    And then _she_ would go through some lesser maneuvers
 herself, dodging frantically to get away from someone she had
 apparently just caught a glimpse of.  It took Go awhile to
 figure it out, but eventually he realized that she was reacting
 whenever she saw the one player Go did recognize, a pretty,
 sweet-faced young woman with long brown hair in a ponytail he
 had often noticed in the market.

    She seemed utterly unaware of the frantic actions of her
 playmates, going about the business of shopping and greeting the
 vendors as he had seen her do so often before.  It was beyond
 his comprehension why both the girls were avoiding the young
 woman, not to mention why Red was avoiding Darky, who was
 looking for Red and, judging by those same gestures, a young
 man.  Go tried several times to see if he could find anyone on
 the monitors that matched her pantomimes, but to no avail.

    He was still trying to figure out what to do about it all
 when the three figures simultaneously departed, in three
 different directions.  Go sighed, content that it was now safely
 Someone Else's Problem.

   ***********************************************************

    Nabiki made her way to the pay phone at the little cafe
 across the street from the school.  Along with Akane's payoff,
 she had collected backpayments on most of the outstanding debts
 various students owed her--with interest.

    More importantly, she had an _idea_.

    She dialed a number she had long ago commited to memory, and
 waited patiently while the phone at the other end rang once, twice,
 three times before snyone answered.

    She steeled her voice to sound normal.  "Hello, this is 
 Nabiki.... Yes, that's right, Tendou Nabiki.  I just wanted to
 thank you for the flowers you sent over.  Uh-huh.  Well, I
 also wanted to be sure you knew you'd be getting my thank-you
 note first thing tomorrow.  Right.  It's a bit longer than
 usual, in fact, on account of how much longer it's been since
 we were in touch.  Right.  I'll look forward to it!"

    Nabiki slipped the phone back into its resting place and
 let out a large sigh.  {Good.  I don't think they suspect
 anything--or if they do, I don't think they'll know what to
 expect.}

    As she hurried back across the street, she mumbled, "Now I've
 gotta think up an excuse that's good for those two today _and_
 for all three of us tomorrow...."

   ***********************************************************

    Isihiyama Oda stared dumbfounded at the battered dockworkers
 in front of him.  He tried to make sense of their ramblings, so
 that he could begin to file the paperwork (paperwork, the bane
 of every dock foreman in Tokyo) on the assault.

    The part that stopped him cold every time was when they tried
 to describe their assailant.  If he understood them correctly,
 nearly a dozen of his burliest workers had been taken down by a
 sixteen-year-old girl.  Not only that, but she had asked all
 sorts of strange, one might even say incomprehensible, questions
 about purple cats and ducks with vision problems.

    Just as they began to get the story straight, Ito burst in
 and started blabbering about _another_ sixteen-year-old girl,
 who apparently was looking for someone, and Oda noted glumly
 that the second-hand description of her quarry was a pretty good
 match for the first teen terror.  Just as he was beginning to
 absorb that piece of delightful news, Ito explained that the new
 arrival had evidently taken umbrage at some of the gentle
 flirtations of the dockhands.

    At first Oda was afraid that she was going to contact the
 police, but then Ito explained that, no, the young lady was
 quite happy to take care of the problem, with the aid of several
 large crates that were currently being reduced to kindling over
 the laborers' heads.

    Oda slowly lowered his head into his hands.  He knew, just
 knew, that his fingers were going to be lost to writer's cramp
 before this day was out.

   ***********************************************************

    Ryouga pulled on his clothes hastily.  After he had spoiled
 the mood, Soun had pursued his cursed form into the bathroom. 
 Soun called out to Nodoka to go on downstairs--he would join her
 in a minute.  P-Chan, understanding that the Tendou patriarch
 desired that she not be in hearing range of the upcoming
 discussion, had nodded and slipped into the furo, emerging as
 himself.  They had gone down to Nabiki's room to discuss the
 matter further.

    "Alright, Son, say what you have to say."

    Ryouga looked a little awkward.  "I--I'm sorry, Tendou-san,
 but I couldn't stand by and let that happen.  Ranma would never
 forgive me, and neither would Akane."

    "I see.  And so you sought to 'protect' her?"

    "I don't know.  I heard what she said, but, damnit!  We're
 martial artists!  We're not supposed to-to--"

    "To take advantage of others' weaknesses?" Soun finished for
 him.

    "Yes!  And frankly, I didn't care for what it would mean for
 Akane's honor, either.  You are the head of the clan, after
 all."

    "Hmmm... We'll return to the subject of your concern for my
 daughter's honor in a minute."  Ryouga gulped nervously.  "But
 first," continued Soun, "let me make one thing perfectly clear.
 Nodoka is a widow.  Granted, a recent widow, but it follows a
 prolonged separation.  There is no dishonor in the two of us
 seeking solace in one another's arms."

    "Ummm... Maybe not, sir, but have you considered the fact
 that she doesn't _know_ she's a widow yet?  From what I know
 about her, once the... passions had burned down, I don't think
 she would have been able to handle the guilt.  I don't like to
 think of her with that katana in easy reach...."

    Soun paled visibly, then sighed.  "You're right.  But does
 that mean neither of us can find the happiness we deserve?"

    Ryouga looked at the older man and felt a surge of sympathy.
 {Ten years... In some ways, he's been alone longer than I have.}

    "No, sir, but it does mean that you'll have to be patient. 
 I've been thinking while we've been talking, and I have a
 possible solution."

    Soun adopted an interested look.  "Proceed."

    "Well, what if she never learns the whole truth?  I mean, we
 could tell her that Genma died in the jungles of Vietnam, or
 something like that.  We could even tell her he was cremated. 
 Do you know what happened to... to his remains?"

    "No, Nodoka insisted that she knew how to handle that.  I was
 in too much shock to disagree."

    "Well, if they can't be recovered, we could still just give
 her an urn full of ashes.  Then...."

    "Then, after a decent period of mourning, she would be free!"
 Soun was almost giddy.  He turned a thoughtful gaze on Ryouga. 
 "Have you been spending much time with Nabiki?"

    Ryouga flushed guiltily.  "Uh, er, why do you ask?"

    "No reason, it's just that that's the type of solution she'd
 come up with."

    "Oh.  Aheh.  Imagine that."

    "Now, about Akane's honor...."

    "Erk."

    "I'd like to know how, exactly, you feel qualified to
 chastise me on that particular point, all things considered."

    "Ah, uhm....  It's like this...."

    Nodoka had to wait quite some time before Soun came down with
 P-Chan, allowing her to compliment him on making peace with
 Akane's pet.  The mood, of course, had been completely wrecked
 for the time being, and neither of them spoke of what had almost
 occurred.

   ***********************************************************

    Ranma-chan crept back into the dark office, and slowly made
 her way through the rooms to the little campsite she had made in
 the middle of what had been the waiting room.

    The day had been a total wash-out, other than relieving some
 of her tension in that fracas at the docks.

    Still, she had a few tidbits of negative information, and she
 supposed she could make some kind of pattern out of those in the
 morning, when her mind was fresh.

    She stepped into the receptionist's area, and stopped dead
 just as a kerosene lantern came alive, basking the room with a
 dull orange glow and giving a sinister underlighting to the
 room's other occupant.

    "Hello, Saotome.  It's about time you got here--I've been
 waiting for over an hour."

    "Heh.  Uh, hi, Akane.  How's things?"

   ***********************************************************
 
                          End Chapter 21

Author's Notes:

Whew!  Kept it all in there.  Even managed to follow my outline, 
although a few of the specifics got altered in the translation 
from mind to print (Ranma's activities were originally more 
light-hearted, and Soun and Ryouga's confrontation was supposed to
be much more harsh, for instance).

The use of one-shot characters was kind of a new thing for me, so
I'd really like your opinions on that--was it too much, should I get rid 
of it here, but maybe use it for another story, did it
work for this chapter but not for most others, should I go back
and write the whole story from strangers' perspectives (mind you,
I'm not saying I'm gonna _do_ everything you suggest, but I'd
still like to hear about it).  ^_^

The outline for 22 is already written, although it will probably need 
more tweaking than this one did.  Two, maybe three weeks.  Really.

As always, C&C, MSTs, Acknowledgements, Flames, Death Threats and 
Rambling Missives on the apparent state of my Immortal Soul are welcomed 
and responded to, provided they go either to the FFML or to me, 
whichever you prefer.  I'll be honest, I get a real kick from public 
replies, but if you're the shy type, I can cope.

--Freemage

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