Waters Under Earth

A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic by Alan Harnum - harnums@hotmail.com

All Ranma characters are the property of Rumiko Takahashi, first
published by Shogakukan in Japan and brought over to North
America by Viz Communications.

Homepage at:  http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Bay/9758

Commentary, as usual, is welcomed and appreciated.

Chapter 32 : That Which We Destroy (1 of 3)

     They were in one of the enclosed gardens, near a stream that 
trickled down through a narrow channel formed by rocks to make a 
pool reflecting the blue of the early-morning sky.  A single 
willow stretched wearily near the pool, casting the spot where 
they sat into shade.  Two paths led out of the garden, laid out 
in flat stones that ran to a narrow wooden porch; beyond glass 
doors, the hallways that led between buildings in the Kenzan 
compound stretched.

     Konatsu turned his head and looked at Ukyou where she sat
beside him on the stone bench.  Her right knee was still twisted 
and puffy, and she had walked down the hallways with a limp.  A 
red silk kimono, slightly too large and with contrasting black 
vines, was belted tight around her. 

     "You were right," she said when she saw him looking, "the
gardens are very beautiful."  Her voice was soft, muted.  Unbound
hair hung down her back and shoulders in a silky wave.  Stiff and 
sore upon the floor, he had awoken this morning to hear her in 
the shower.  No sign of Hako or anyone else; the compound seemed 
deserted but for them.

     Konatsu was not that naive, however.  He knew Hako better
than that.  The gardens, as Ukyou said, were beautiful, a 
contrast to the grief they'd had in the last few days and Hako's
savagery.  But the memory of it was never far away.

     In his pocket, the object the crow had given him the night
before seemed too heavy.  He wasn't sure what to do.  Fuhaiko and
Nenreiko were unknowns in this.  He didn't even know what had
made him keep the thing from Ukyou.  Only an instinctual 
wariness, perhaps; somehow, he recognized that the tiny stick of
carved bamboo would change everything.  As things were, he was
not truly happy, but Ukyou was safe, and with him.  Perhaps that
was what was best to hope for, for him at least.

     But what, something else in him said softly, for her?
     
     The warmth of her hand lain across his broke him from his
thoughts.  "What are you thinking about?" she asked softly.

     "The future," he answered quietly, looking up at a drifting
cloud.  The bright Okinawa sun came down in bars through the
leaves of the willow and glistened on the pool and the chips of
quartz crystal in the rocks, as if upon jewels.

     "What future?" Ukyou said, taking her hand away and cupping
her chin dejectedly with it.  "We're trapped here by these
lunatics, and..." 

     Konatsu listened to her trail away into silence before he
spoke.  "And what?"
     
     "And you're not willing to try and get away," she said after
a moment's hesitation.  "Konatsu, we're not even guarded.  We
could slip out the front gate, and--"

     "You still don't understand," he interrupted, an edge of
frustration creeping into his voice.  "Hako can find me no matter
where I go."

     "Then we can run off and get help!" Ukyou persisted.  "We
can fight--"

     Again, he interrupted.  "Hako does not fight as you or
anyone else who could help us is used to fighting.  You fought 
her yourself; you know what she is capable of."

     Ukyou winced.  "But..."
     
     "And that is without even the full weight of Kenzan behind
her."

     A sigh escaped her, and her shoulders slumped in seeming
defeat.  "Okay," she said wearily.  "We'll just stay here until
we die, or Hako decides to kill us."

     "Oh, she won't do that," Konatsu said, shaking his head.
"She needs me.  And she understands the consequences if she hurts
you again."  He glanced pointedly to the short sword on his belt.

     "Konatsu," Ukyou said with a troubled expression, "don't
talk about that."  She put her arm around his shoulders and
shifted closer on the bench.  "Promise me you won't hurt yourself
if something happens to me."  Konatsu sat in silence, though his 
heart raced at the closeness of her.  "Promise me," she repeated.

     "No," he said finally.  "I can't.  Forgive me, Ukyou.  I
have to be willing to go through with my threats, or I have no
power over her."
     
     Ukyou was silent for a long time, just holding her arm
around his shoulders, and then she slipped it off and folded her
hands in her lap.  "You can't control her," she said.  "She's 
barely human."
     
     "I can die if she hurts you," Konatsu said, forcing the
threat of a tremble from his voice.  "That's enough.  She needs
me."

     "Why?" Ukyou asked.
     
     Konatsu opened his mouth, and then shut it.  "I don't know
precisely why," he answered after a moment's thought.  "Only that
she does."  The endless litany, from his mother, his father, his
stepmother - one day, you shall be called upon to serve your clan
in the way that only you can.

     "And when the time comes that she stops needing you?  What
happens to you then?"

     Konatsu didn't care.  But the question that was unspoken
weighed heavily upon him.  Chances were, Hako would stop needing
him.  Perhaps soon.  And what, then, would happen to Ukyou?

     "We have to get out of here, Konatsu."
     
     He nodded once, not even realizing he intended to until he
did.  With a quick motion, he drew out the stick of bamboo from
one of his hidden pockets and held it up.  "I don't know what
this is," he said softly.  "But I think it might be able to 
help."

     From end to end, the stick was carved with intertwined
Chinese characters.  He looked at Ukyou's face; the light of
recognition was in her eyes.  Her hand reached out and took it
from him.  

     "You know what it is, don't you?" he asked softly.  He
didn't, but he could see she did.

     Ukyou nodded.  
     
     "What?"
     
     "Hope," she whispered, and, taking an end in each hand, she
snapped the stick in half.  Across an ocean, the snapping 
screamed like a klaxon in the head of an old man in a library.  
Neither of them was aware of this happening, but it was very 
important to what would later occur.  Nor did they notice the 
three crows perched upon the roof of one building, motionless as 
they watched with yellow eyes.  This, though not quite so 
important, also had something to do with what went on afterwards.

**********

     Hako walked.
     
     Hako walked in the darkness, through the labyrinth of
caverns that stretched under the Kenzan compound.  Ancient they
were, the walls rough and jagged, but carved by human hands.  
Various entrances led into and out of the cramped warren of 
passages, all of them more-or-less concealed except for the cave 
mouth on the beach.

     Ahead of her, the shadows loomed, flickering in the yellow
light of the torch she carried.  A lantern, even an electric 
flashlight, would have been easier.  But tradition broke hard; 
torches had been the only lights of this place when it was sliced 
out of the rock of the cliffs, so a torch lit her way now.  And 
the sensory experience, the resinous smell of the smoke and the 
tang of oil upon the tongue, were something that no other source 
of light would give.

     Her steps were silent as she went, not even a shuffle of the
soft slippers she wore audible.  The uneven floor was dusty, and
each step left her footprints behind her.  She passed through the 
sepulchre, a narrow passage lined on either side with wide, deep 
niches.  In each one, an iron casket held what remained of a 
leader of Kenzan.  Not so many as one might have thought there 
should be; as they passed, a momentary spasm made her lose 
control of her left hand, and the flames of the torch whipped out 
behind the burning head as it dipped closer to one niche.

     Pulling it under control, she left the charnel place behind,
and came after a few minutes more into the central room of the
underground.  This one held no roughness or unevenness in its
construction; floor and walls and ceiling were glass-smooth, and
four circular pillars were arranged in a diamond shape in the
centre, rising up almost to the ceiling and narrowing to
needle-sharp points at the top.  Those were dark iron, almost
indistinguishable from the rock around them, except when the 
light glistened on them and upon their tips.  Four torch brackets
were spaced equidistantly on each pillar.

     Hako breathed in.  Here there was no dust on anything.  She
walked lightly to stand near one pillar, and carefully placed 
her torch into the only empty bracket upon it.

     She stepped back, and raised her hand.  With slight pops as
air was consumed, all the other torches upon the walls and the
pillars sprang to life.  This place lay under the central
building of the compound; a focus of power.

     Now she came into the area bounded by the pillars.  The reek 
of sulphur from the torches mingled with the cold tang of iron.
She raised her hands, and peeled off her left-hand glove with a 
grimace.  Freed from its confines, she flexed the fingers a few
times, and then removed the right-hand glove as well.  Lacing her 
fingers together, she stretched her arms over her head and let 
out a deep, throaty sigh of pleasure.

     Flesh slapped on cloth as she dropped her hands to her 
sides; turning a slow circle, she pushed out and found the ebb 
and flow of the energies.  Then, with an action so long-practiced
as to be nearly instinctual, she united herself with them.

     The power seared through her; she clenched her teeth at the
suddenness of it, so vast a store of might.  Upon the edges, the
slumbering presence that was the source shifted at her brief
contact with it.
     
     "My lord," she whispered reverently, resisting the urge to
fall to her knees.  The Circle, of which she was nominally a
part, believed that specific ritual and ceremony were necessary.  
They knew nothing.  Only the knowledge, the willingness to reach 
out and submit, to bend but not be broken; only those were 
necessary, and the Dark would touch you deep as any lover.  She 
drew forth a glass vial from within the depths of her uniform, 
and uncorked it with a pop.  With a flick of her wrist, she sent 
the powdery contents scattering around her to drift like snow to 
the floor.

     The torches flared blue.  She spoke a single word, made a 
simple gesture with her hands, and they burned white.  The iron
pillars swam with shifting waves of torch-fire, almost pulsing.
Over her head, the needle tip of each pillar began to glow, a 
firefly-sized spark as bright as the sun.  Shafts of light shot
off like spears, arcing along walls and floor and ceiling.

     Another word, and the shafts gathered, leapt from pillar to
pillar until a diamond of almost blinding brightness glowed
overhead.  Hako tilted her head back, eyes open wide as they 
could go, and spoke a final phrase.  Power surged; it struck 
like a hammer blow.  She bit her lip until blood ran down her 
chin, and the coppery taste of it lingered on her tongue.

     Longingly, like a mother reaching for a child, Hako, the
Lady of Kenzan, reached out for her servants and whispered to
each of them but one word:

     Come.
     
**********

     Cold.  That was what it had to be.
     
     Ukyou stared out at the ocean, and folded the sleeves of the
blood-red kimono around her hands.  There was no wind, and the 
sun was warm.  Something else, then; something else was to blame
for the tingles running erratically up and down her spine.  
Behind her, the buildings and walls of the Kenzan compound
loomed, confining her.  Before her, the sheer cliffs dropped down
to the deserted beach.  From up here, the white sand glistened,
the minute crystals ground in with the fine powder trapping the
sun.

     There had been nothing, no surge of power or flash of light
or sign of anything else, when she had broken the stick; but when 
she had looked at the two broken pieces, the surfaces were 
smooth.

     Konatsu had not questioned her about it.  He had simply
seemed to accept it, or perhaps he had not even cared.  The
thought at the edge of her mind, no matter how much she disliked
it, was that perhaps it was best Konatsu didn't know precisely
what it was meant to do.  He was terrified of Hako; not that she
wasn't, but his fear was something deeper, a child's terror of 
the dark.

     She glanced down the cliffs, to the long stepped walkway
that had been worn out over time by wind and rain.  They could
have simply walked away from the place; but the closest town she
knew of was little more than a base of Clan Kenzan, and Konatsu 
had said that Hako could find him no matter where he went.  
Whether that was true or not, she could not convince him to 
leave.

     So there was only the waiting now then - the brief hope that
help would come.  Only she did not know if it would come, or come
in time if it did.

     Another tingle ran through her, and she shook her head.  
The twisted knee on her right leg throbbed with a dull pain.  
Salt-sea breeze gusted off the endless roll of the Pacific, and
made her nose twitch.

     There was the rattle of dishes on a tray; she turned her 
head - Konatsu approached with light steps upon the grass.  He 
smiled, and bobbed his head in a small bow without saying 
anything.

     Ukyou shifted, wincing once as the motion sent pain through 
her injured knee, and arranged the folds of the kimono about her 
knees.  Konatsu set the tray down between them and knelt on the
other side of it.  "A nice view, isn't it?"
     
     Ukyou nodded and picked up the steaming china teapot.  A
fragrant herbal smell mingled with the lingering aroma of the sea
as she poured a cup for each of them.

     "I used to sit here all the time before you came," he 
continued softly, as Ukyou raised her cup to her mouth and 
sipped.  "I'd stare out across the ocean, and think about what
lay beyond..."

     "China," Ukyou answered flatly.
     
     Konatsu's smile slipped a little.  Untouched on the tray,
his teacup sent tendrils of twisting vapour into the air.  "I
know that," he said after a moment's silence, "but I mean... all
the things that are out there.  All the places to go, the new
sights to see--"

     "All the places that aren't here," Ukyou interrupted.
     
     Konatsu nodded.  His smile was tight and forced.
     
     Ukyou hesitated, then resigned herself to one last try.  "We
could get out here, you know," she half-whispered.  "Go out the
gate, or down along the beach.  Naha's far, but not that far... 
there must be other towns along the way."

     "Your knee," Konatsu pointed out.
     
     "Well..."
     
     "Hako can find me, Ukyou," Konatsu said.  "You still don't
understand.  It's not that she can track me down.  She can sense
me, exactly where I am if she's close enough, general direction
if I'm far from her."

     Ukyou blinked.  "How?"
     
     "Kenzan's arts are old," Konatsu answered.  His voice bore
little emotion, but there was something of fear in his eyes.  "I
am the one who comes but once a century."

     Out over the ocean, the white birds flew free.  "We have to
get out of here if we can, Konatsu.  You realize that, don't 
you?"

     "If we can," Konatsu replied with a nod.  "But we can only
escape so far from what our lives intend us to be."

     He reached down and picked up his cup in both hands.  As he
raised it, there was a sharp snap, and it fell into two pieces.
Konatsu made a soft sound of pain as scalding tea splashed his
hands.

     Ukyou leaned forward, concerned.  "Are you okay?"
     
     Silently, he picked up a linen napkin from the tray and
wiped at his hands.  "A few little burns," he said with a 
grimace; the palms of his hands were an angry red.  "I'll be 
fine."

     The two broken halves of the cup lay upon the grass before
him.  Ukyou picked them up; the pieces were almost equal in size,
and the lines of the break were clean and even.  "Wonder how that
happened?" she mused.

     Konatsu shrugged, and dabbed the last of the tea off the
cuffs of his uniform.  "The china is delicate," he replied as he
wadded the sodden napkin into a ball and laid it down on the 
tray.  "Perhaps I gripped it too hard."

     Ukyou frowned, then turned and tossed the two bone-white
pieces of china over the side of the cliff.  A glance over showed
that they were lost amidst the glare of light upon the sand.

     "The waves will roll in," Konatsu said softly.  "In and out,
in and out.  They will drag them in and grind them up, and in 
time, they too shall become sand."

     "That's rather poetic," Ukyou said with a slight grin.
"Perhaps you'd have made a better Basho than a kunoichi."

     Konatsu laughed.  "I do not think there is anything I could
be better at than what I do."

     "No," a voice said, soft but forceful, from nearby.  "There 
is not."

     Startled, the two of them jerked their heads away from the
sight of white sand upon the beach.  They had not even heard Hako
approach.

     The tall woman gave them a cursory nod.  "Konatsu, child,
you must come with me now."  Konatsu stood without a word.  
After a moment, Ukyou stood as well.  Hako flicked a disdainful 
glance to her.  "Not you, little girl."

     "I go where he goes," Ukyou said.
     
     "Where I go, she goes," Konatsu said.
     
     The words had been almost simultaneous.  They looked at each
other, then smiled, despite the fear they both felt.  Moment of
kinship.

     Hako laughed.  There was no warmth in it, or humour.  "How
touching.  Come, Konatsu.  I swear no harm will come to her 
through the lack of your presence."

     "Your words mean nothing," Konatsu said quietly.
     
     Hako's stance shifted.  "I had hoped you would be more 
cooperative," she said.  "I am through with these games,
Konatsu.  Now you will obey."

     How hard she looks, Ukyou thought.  How terribly hard.  Like
something broken again and again, reforged so many times that it
can never again be broken.

     "I do not play games anymore," Konatsu said quietly, and
before he finished speaking, his sword came free from the sheath; 
before he finished speaking, Hako was in motion.

     Konatsu cried out as she hit him; they wrestled for a 
moment, and then the sword flew, glittering in the sun, over the
edge of the cliff.

     Ukyou reached down, biting back a cry of pain as the sudden
motion made something shift in her knee.  Her hands came up with
the half-full teapot.  Nearby, Konatsu and Hako grappled near the
edge of the cliff.

     Ukyou stood, and Clan Kenzan rose, it seemed, from 
everywhere.  A dozen, two dozen, three, she could not count.  
>From behind trees and bushes, from lying flat in the grass, from
out the air itself.  On the ground, Hako held her hand over 
Konatsu's mouth as he struggled weakly.

     Someone hit her from behind, and the teapot fell from her
hands and shattered.  Hands grabbed her arms.  A cloth clamped 
down over her nose and mouth, and a pungent scent burned into her 
brain for the few seconds of consciousness that remained.  Then 
she crumpled, her last sight the white beach, glinting in the 
sun.

     The last sound, Hako's voice.  "Oh my little pretty one," it
said.  "If only you knew..."

**********

     Nenreiko and Fuhaiko watched from the shadows cast by one of
the walls as Hako and her clan took the two away.  

     "So," Nenreiko said quietly.  "It begins."
     
     "Oh, it began a long time ago," Fuhaiko answered.  She 
glanced to the side, where Xande stood in human form.  "And what
do you think, little worm?"

     "What I am required to, Carrion-Mistress," he replied.  The
hate burned in his eyes, sunk so deep into his withered face that
they seemed to gaze out from within caverns.
     
     "Tonight," Nenreiko said softly.
     
     "Tonight," Fuhaiko agreed.
     
     "Look out to sea," Nenreiko said, pointing.  "Your pets are
coming in, Fuhaiko."
     
     "I see," Fuhaiko said, watching dispassionately as shrieking
black shapes fell with outstretched talons and slashing beaks 
upon the flock of white gulls.  "I see."

**********
     
     Nabiki trudged home from school along the familiar streets,
a frown on her face, schoolbag clenched tight in one hand.  She
had been hoping to talk to Kuno again, after their long
conversation of that morning, but after the last class he had
just seemed to vanish.

     The sky mirrored her mood, grey clouds that had only
increased since the day began.  Rain was coming, and the clouds
choked off the sunlight.  Still her mind reeled from what Kuno
had told her, half in terror, half in disbelief; she had been
little more than an automaton all day, staring out the window in
class, almost grateful when the teacher ordered her out into the
hall with buckets, because it gave her a chance to think without
so much distraction.
     
     Not so grateful now, though.  She rubbed her aching arms 
while she waited at a pedestrian crossing.  Cars rolled past, and 
she listened idly to the chatter of students behind her, their 
petty little concerns.  Then the lights changed, she crossed the 
street, and turned the corner to walk what was almost the final 
stretch towards home.  The canal lay nearby, water winding lazily 
in union with the streets.

     Clouds were grey, and sky was dark.  Too dark for the close
of summer and the fall of autumn, too dark by far.  She kicked an
empty soft-drink can out of her path, and it bounced off the
chain links of the fence with a metallic rattle.

     "Well, good afternoon, Nabiki."
     
     She looked up from watching the path ahead.  Tofu stood,
broom in hand, outside the gate of his clinic.  "Hey doc."

     He nodded in greeting and swept the dust of his front walk
to either side with broad motions of the broom.  "We seem to keep
running into each either like this."  He laughed, though Nabiki
didn't.

     "Yeah."  She smiled weakly.  Dealing with the doctor was not
something she wanted to do right now.

     Then he asked the question she didn't want him to.  "How's
K... Kasumi?"
     
     "She's fine," Nabiki replied guardedly.  
     
     He grinned, an unusual-looking smile that didn't seem to
suit his face.  "How about setting up another rendezvous for me?"     

     He said it so casually, so without any of his normal 
nervousness around the topic of her older sister, that it
disturbed her.  Nabiki blinked.  "Uh..."

     "I made it worth your while last time," he said quietly.
"More than worth your while.  I can do that again, or better."

     His eyes were intent upon her, and he had stopped sweeping.
The broom leaned against the wall at a low angle.  At last, 
Nabiki shook her head.  "No can do, doc."
     
     "Why not?" Tofu asked, a vague air of disappointment.
     
     She waved an admonishing finger at him.  "We don't want to
move too fast, do we?"

     Tofu looked unsure, and then nodded.  "Did Kasumi enjoy the
dinner last time?"

     Nabiki had never asked.  "Sure she did," she told him
reassuringly.  "But you know how we women are sometimes.  
Kasumi's an old-fashioned girl; she wants to take things slowly."
     
     Tofu nodded, and beamed.  "I like old-fashioned girls."
     
     "Great," Nabiki said.  "I'll give you a call if anything
comes up."

     "Wonderful," Tofu said.  He reached into his pocket and
extracted a wad of bills, presenting them to her with a manic
glint in his eyes.

     Nabiki looked at the money.  "What's that for?"
     
     "A future retainer," the doctor replied.
     
     She half-reached for the money, then pulled her hand back.  
"I don't take money for services I don't know if I will ever
render."

     "Oh?" Tofu said, sounding surprised.  "Not anymore, you
mean?"     

     A silence seemed to fall.  She stared, and then realized she
was being paranoid.  He could not, did not know what he was
talking of.  Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be away 
from him.  The sky threatened rain, she told herself, and she had 
to be indoors before that happened.  "Gotta go," she said.  
"Looks like it's going to start coming down soon."

     Tofu glanced up, then shook his head.  "No.  I'd say there's
a little longer to go."

     "Bye, Doc."  She turned to walk away.
     
     "Bye, Nabiki."
     
     And as she left, something interposed itself before the
ankle of one foot and behind the heel of the other.  She fell
heavily, crying out as she caught herself on her hands.  Her
right knee slammed into hard pavement with a crack, and tears 
came to her eyes.

     "I'm sorry, Nabiki," Tofu said in a concerned voice.  "I
shouldn't have left the broom there.  Are you okay?"  He knelt 
down by her, and put a hand on her shoulder.  

     "Just a bit scraped up," she whispered.  He helped her to 
her feet; her knee was bleeding heavily, staining the skirt of 
her dress, and her palms were badly skinned.  Clumsy, she cursed
herself; she hadn't been watching where she was going.  Tripped
over a broom.  She had been sure it had been on the other side of
the gate.  Maybe Tofu had moved it - but that was ridiculous, why
would he do that?

     "Come inside the clinic," he said gently, his hands still on
her shoulders.  "That knee needs to be bandaged up, and I'll have
a look at your hands too."

     He led her inside to the small examination room, got her to 
sit on the clinic bed, then knelt and began to probe at her knee
with his fingers.  Nabiki started as his hands reached up under 
her dress, but reminded herself he was a doctor.  There was
nothing on his face but clinical detachment.

     After a few seconds of pressing with his fingers, the flow
of blood from the cut slowed, and then stopped altogether.  His
hands lingered on her knee for a moment longer, doing what must
have been a few more necessary adjustments, and then he stood up.
"Better?"

     Nabiki nodded.  He handed her a tissue from a box on the
small table by the bed, and she dabbed at the few tears of pain
on her face.  "Thanks, doc."

     "How are your hands?" he asked as he rooted through the
supply cabinet.

     Nabiki looked at them and grimaced.  The first few layers of
flesh on her palms were ragged and bloody, and hurt with a dull,
throbbing pain.  "Not so good."

     A bottle and a white cloth in his hands, Tofu returned.  
An acrid, medicinal tang filled the air as he splashed liquid 
from the bottle on the cloth.  "Hold out your hands."

     No reaction showed on his face when she winced at the sting 
of the iodine.  He bandaged her hands, then indicated for her to
raise her skirt above her knee with a motion of his fingers.  
Trying not to flush, Nabiki did so, and he cleaned and bandaged 
that wound as well.  There was a satisfied expression on his face 
when he finished.  "Better?"

-Continued in section 2



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