I've been working on this for quite some time now, and wanted to run
the first half past the list once. I originally planned to release it all at
once as a package, but felt that nobody would want to deal with a floodpost
from me. The overall project is still undergoing revisions, and the latter
half is being written as you read this.
Many thanks to my prereaders, in no particular order:
Grayson Towler
Brian Payne
Kyle Emmerson (and no, he does NOT appear in this fic ^_^)
If you would like to preread for this project, drop me a line.
Jed M. Bidwell, AKA Knight Writer.
===========================================
Ranma 1/2: A Murder of Crows
===========================================
The chill wind sliced through the narrow, shadow-cast alley, its
mournful wail echoing off the filth stained walls. Black clouds hung low and
menacing in the night sky, bearing the promise of nature's wrath on the city
of man.
She walked through the cluttered alleyway, the wind biting into her
exposed arms and face. She barely felt the numbing cold as her bare feet
carried her on an weaving course through the darkness.
What was this place? She felt as if she should know. The alley, the
city, it seemed so maddeningly familiar, yet so strange and alien. The air
was almost foul with the stench of car exhaust and garbage, filled also with
the noise of people.
The dim light of the street beyond beckoned to her, enveloping her
as she stepped out. Dilapidated buildings, covered with multi-colored
grafitti, greeted her eyes as the sounds of thumping music faded in and out.
People moved around her, their clothes in either tattered rags or loose
disregard. She looked down at her own body, covered in a ripped and torn
jumpsuit in gunmetal grey, and wondered again what was going on.
Is this Hell? she thought as she began her strange trek once more.
Is this what Hell is like?
[This is not Hell,] said a strange voice in her mind, [but you can
see it from here.]
"Who.....?"
[Come, child.] The voice in her head pulled at her, urging her to
move her legs.
"Wh.... who....?" She couldn't remember.
[You must hurry, Akane,] it insisted. [You must move.] Slowly,
awkardly, Akane took a tentative step. [Good. Follow me.] She took another
step, one bare foot padding on the sidewalk beneath it, then took another.
Akane's legs gave out, toppling her to the hard ground. She
struggled to rise again, legs pushing at the concrete in an effort to raise
her up once more. The voice called again for her to hurry, that time was of
the essence as she pulled herself upright once again.
[Follow me, Akane, and you shall learn.] Akane gazed up and spotted
a shape darker than the night sitting atop a power line. The shape took
flight, soaring into another alleyway across the street. She followed the
shape, knowing only that she had to.
The world became filled with blinding light, a horrid scream blaring
in her ears as Akane stood transfixed. The impact came seconds later. Akane
found herself rolling over something hard and cold before coming to a rest
on the pavement.
"HOLY SHIT!" she heard a voice cry.
"She alright?"
"Stupid bitch walked out in front of me!"
"Might be some kinda insurance scam."
"Maybe we should call an amubulance or somethin'!"
She rose from the cold street, her only thought to follow the black
shape. She had to find it, if nothing else, she had to find the
(Crow)
strange thing that called her.
"Hey, you okay?" Akane ignored the female voice, making her way to
the alley.
"Girl's gotta be made of steel," she heard another voice whisper in
astonishment. Akane paid them no heed as the shadows swallowed her once again.
=========================================
"Who are you?" Akane asked the shape, which sat atop a rusted fire
escape that snaked up the side of a nearby wall.
[My kind have no names,] came its reply.
"Where am I? Why am I here?"
[Remember...]
"I... don't understand."
[You will. Remember.....]
The world vanished in a flash of crimson as a life once lived
paraded through Akane's head. She could see Ranma lying on her back, clothes
ripped and torn as a group of five leering men pawed at her exposed flesh.
I don't want to see! she screamed into the dream that was not a
dream. Please!
[You must, Akane. Remember...] She could feel the hands on Ranma's
body as if it was her own as they groped and clawed at her breasts, her
thighs, her... her...
Akane felt the cold of the poison through Ranma's blood as it robbed
the proud warrior of her strength. The weakness in Ranma's bound arms and
legs was almost sickening as she felt the hard object enter her with brutish
force over and over, hammering Ranma into the ground. The sanguine taste of
blood filled Akane's mouth as Ranma bit down on one of the men who tried to
take the red-haired girl's lips. Akane felt the pain of the stout pipe
slamming against Ranma's head as the bleeding man shouted obscenities that
would have singed the ears of angels.
NO MORE! PLEASE NO MORE!
But more still came. She felt the lump of dread that ate away at her
sanity like a malignant tumor as she wasted away in the depths of endless
despair. Ranma's body, horribly mutilated, dead blue eyes staring up at
nothing, her face twisted in anguish beyond imagining, haunted her
nightmares even as she sat awake.
The endless torment, the walking death she endured for... she didn't know
how long. She hardly ate, barely existed in that dank hell. Her spirit had
died with Ranma, her body yet to catch up. Ranma was dead, what did it matter?
Then that night, aimlessly walking the shadows of the night, the enraged
yell from behind, the form lunging from the darkness, the glint of moonlight
on a razor-keen blade, then the exquisite pain as the edge rended her in
two. Laying there, life rapdly fleeing her, dim eyes falling on the Crow
that perched atop the dojo's outer wall.
=======================================
Weak light shone from the grime-clouded windows, struggling to
pierce the darkness beyond. The brick walls were pocked and cracked from
years of neglect, stains of old grafitti coating the surface.
The two cars approached silently, engines whining softly in the
night as the tires crunched on tiny chunks of debris and trash beneath. They
rolled to a stop, engines dying as the occupants stepped out.
What a dump, Kazuo thought as he strode to the rusted metal door.
The old neighborhood had really slipped over the years, with rogue elements
taking up residence in the ruined areas of Tokyo and other major Japanese
cities. That fact disgusted Kazuo to no end, especially when he read of how
the area used to be.
However, if there was one good thing about places like this, it was
that troubleshooters like himself didn't have to be so subtle when sent in
to clean up what messes these little shits made. It was a shame that it
happened so often.
The other four took positions on each side of the door, weapons at
the ready. Kazuo glanced at each in turn, no words necessary. Each knew his
role, and needed no instruction. On his signal, the door burst inward and
the raid began.
The room was sparsely furnished; a few mats and a table occupied the
filthy floor, most of them occupied by several lean and gangly people. They
rose in shock and terror, knowing full well what Kazuo and his men were and
why they were there.
Gensao, Tenchi, Yusaku, and Yoshi opened fire without prompting, the
teflon-coated rounds ripping through the pale and somewhat emaciated flesh
of the amateur jack dealers. The reports of the silenced weapons were little
more than rapid fire coughs as the acrid stench of cordite soon filled the
air, overpowering the stench of unwashed bodies.
It was over in seconds. Blood ran in a river across the dirt-caked
floor, gunsmoke hanging heavy in the air. As the others took the body count
and searched for stragglers, Kazuo strode purposefully toward the ramshackle
table that rested in the corner.
Plastic bags lined the pitted and burned surface of the particle
board, each stuffed with long, kinked cables with a metallic jack at each
end. Kazuo stared down at the labels, reading the kanji printed on them.
Snuff jacks. It was bad enough that these worthless sacks of monkey
shit peddled their cheap rip-offs in the oyabun's territory, but to push
crap like this was unforgiveable. Much as things had changed, the Yakuza
still didn't think highly of snuff pushers.
The four returned, each showing that no others had been found. Even
if one had managed to get away, it was of no importance. He would tell
others about what had happened, and they would think twice before pulling
any stunts like this.
With the night's work done, the five returned to their cars and
vanished into the night.
==========================================
The pain washed over Akane again and again in a merciless tide of
agony and torment as she lay shivering on the ground. Her legs were curled
up to her chest, arms wrapped around her torso as the flood of tears soaked
her face and the asphalt. Ranma had been murdered, and she had been
powerless to stop it. Instead of seeking vengeance, she had done nothing.
The knowledge sent her into a new bout of crying and screaming.
The crow watched silently as the grief and madness welled up inside
Akane, bursting out in a torrent of violence. It looked on as she rose to
her feet, screaming in unbearable torment as her fists slammed against the
brick wall again and again. The mortar cracked and splintered with each
blow, shards of brick spiralling out into space.
With a tortured wail, Akane's foot slammed into a dumpster, sending
it hurtling through the darkened alleyway as if it were a toy ball. The
dumpster overturned in the shadows, the cacophony of noise ricocheting off
the walls.
This part was the most necessary, the most important. Akane had to
see, to relive the events that led to this place. She had to experience the
pain anew, to be driven mad by it. That madness, that pain, would be her
lunatic edge. It would allow her to survive the journey on which she had now
embarked.
Akane fell to her knees, shuddering from a thousand different
emotions lacerating her brain. She had stopped screaming, but couldn't
recall when. The haze of agony and rage hung over her like a cloud of
lightning, sending tendrils of murderous need through her.
[Take the pain,] the voice whispered, slicing through the fog, [use
it to make you strong again. The pain is your power.]
"Who are you?!"
[I have told you, my kind have no names.]
Akane uncurled herself, the pain still wracking her very soul as she
rose again. The pain reached into her, grasping her rage as she felt a new
power surge through her. "I was dead. I know I was dead. Then you came."
[That's right. I have brought you here.]
"Why couldn't you let me rest?!"
[Because you can't. The pain won't let you.]
"So, you just let me suffer in this world instead of the next? Is
that it?"
[No, Akane. I brought you here to end your torment, to settle the
score, as you mortals put it.]
Akane slowly rose to her feet, pain still throbbing through the very
fiber of her being. She awkwardly made her way over to a nearby trashbin,
heeling over as she felt her gorge rise.
She spotted a faint sparkle in the pile of refuse, a dim gleam in
the dark. Cautiously, Akane reached in to pull out a jagged section of
mirror from beneath a sodden piece of paper.
Akane stared at her reflection, the matted mass of dull hair, her
tear streaked cheeks, gleaming eyes... She brought the glass down, opening
her shirt as she held the shard to the grim light. The scar was twisted and
hideous, running the length of her from her left shoulder to the right of
her pelvis.
A flash of memory resurfaced, and she felt the cold of the steel
ignite the fires of agony in her nerves as it cleaved her with lethal
efficiency.
[That's it. Let it grow, let it fuel you.]
"How long has it been?"
[By your mortal reckoning, twenty years have passed.]
"No...." Akane dropped the piece of mirror, whirling about to face
the crow. "You're wrong! It can't be!"
[It is.]
"But... why?! Why so long?"
[You are fortunate, Akane. Many souls have waited far longer for
their chance. Some wait for eternity.]
"This... this is a different world! Another time!"
[Time presents no obstacle. It is not too late.]
"Stop giving me riddles!" The crow fell silent, regarding her with
its beady gaze for a moment before finally speaking again.
[Hurry. One is near.]
"What?"
[Just follow me.]
================================================
"Man, why do you waste your time here?" Yusaku asked as he brought
the car to a stop alongside the curb. People milled about under the almost
vulgar neon lights that hung above the sidewalk, pedestrians and hawkers
peddling all sorts of wares. The area was in many ways no better than the
slum district they had just left, yet the illicit activities were under the
oyabun's control.
"We all have our pleasures, Yusaku," Gensao replied as he climbed
out of the sedan.
"Like professional whores?"
"Yusaku, please! I prefer the term overly friendly hostesses."
"Semantic crap. Just don't be late tomorrow." With that, Yusaku
dropped the car into gear and drove off into the night.
Akane peered from the shadows as the man strode across the street.
His severely cut business suit showed off a powrful body beneath it as he
moved with almost fluid grace. Black hair framed a ruggedly handsome face,
lips set in an almost rogueish grin. Why did he seem so...
Akane felt a bolt of white-hot pain rip through her gut as more
memories returned. She saw the face of one of those men, grunting as he
thrust into Ranma again and again, screaming vulgarities at her. The scene
was gone in a flash, replaced by the world, and Akane knew.
[Do you know him, now?]
"Yes," Akane growled, "I know him..."
===================================
Aunt Susie Cho's Tearoom was filled with patrons, as it was every
night. The thin haze of smoke hung in the almost stuffy air, the smell
permeating every surface. Dim lights shone through the mist, lending the
place a feel of coziness tinged with an undercurrent of sleaze. It was
little more than a thinly disguised brothel.
It was also Gensao's favorite hangout. He breathed in the atmosphere
as he stepped over to an unoccupied booth, the murmur of conversation
sprinkled with coquettish laughter providing a subliminal hum. He slipped
into the comfortable leather and waited for his favorite.
Within minutes, Miyu came. A simple blue kimono was draped around
the shapely figure he knew lay beneath, raven's wing hair pulled up in a bun
atop her head. She kept her eyes downcast as she asked what he would like.
"Well, you can have a seat, for starters," he replied, indicating
the other side. Miyu eased gracefully into the booth, a shy smile on her
rosy lips.
He began with praising her beauty, with ellicited a blush from his
female companion. From there, the small talk and flattery continued as
Gensao waited for the proper moment. He knew he could have easily pulled out
his wallet from the start, a tactic which many male and female patrons
employed, but Gensao preferred to warm his companion to him first. It made
the night so much sweeter. He had discovered from that red-haired girl so
long ago how distasteful rape could be. Poor Yoshi had learned the hard way.
"Gen-chan," Miyu began, "is there anything... else... I can do for you?"
Ah, now it was time. Gensao reached into his pocket, sliding the yen
across the table to her. Miyu accepted it respectfully, giving a slight bow
of her head and shoulders.
"Please allow me to freshen up for you first, Gen-chan." With that,
she slid out of the booth. Gensao watched as she glided across the floor,
stopping at the table occupied by an old woman for a few moments. He watched
Miyu's lips as she spoke, her hand placing the bill on the table. The
nightly fee had been paid, of which Miyu would probably see nothing. The
women here depended on their almost meager salaries and whatever tips their
customers left behind.
Gensao waited, watching the other patrons head upstairs with their
own companions for the night before rising himself. As he passed the table
near the stairs, the old woman gave him a slight smile. She knew him, and
knew he never mistreated her girls. If only she knew why.
=====================================
The room was black as pitch when Gensao walked in, which was highly
unusual. Miyu never left her lights off when expecting him, never. Something
was wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.
Gensao felt a force snatch him forward, sending him flying through
the air just as the door slammed shut behind. Instinctively, he tucked into
a roll before hitting the floor, rolling to his knees and facing in the
direction of the exit. Blood rushed through his veins as every nerve went on
edge. Whoever this was would soon end up very sorry.
"Murderer." The voice came from out of the shadows as Gensao
pinpointed its source. He readied a throwing blade, not wanting to use a gun
in such a populated place as he stalled for a little time.
"What?"
"You raped her. You murdered her!" The hurt, the rage in those words
nearly chilled him to the bone. The speaker was a woman, and not Miyu. Who
had set this up? And why was that voice so familiar?
"What are you talking about?" His eyes were finally adusting. Just a
few seconds more....
"You raped and murdered the one I loved!"
"Bitch, I never raped anyone." Was she high? Gensao finally spotted
her, a vague form in a patch of shadow. With a feral grin, he let fly his
knife. The blade whistled as it sliced the air, heading right for its
target. The sound he heard, however, was all wrong.
The lights flared to life, blinding Gensao as his eyes struggled to
adjust to the sudden influx of illumination. Squinting, he fought against
the needles stabbing into his eyes as shapes became gradually more distinct.
Gensao finally focused on the woman by the door. Her hair hung limp
and dingy around a pale and drawn face, but her eyes... Those eyes held
anger, grief, and death. In her left hand, the blade of the small knife was
trapped between the first two fingers.
"Who in the hell are you?" he asked, becoming genuinely afraid. He
stared at her face for a moment, his question answering itself. No, no this
wasn't possible!
"Death." Gensao scarcely saw her hand move, merely a blur and a
flash of silver before pain lanced through his stomach. He felt his blood
stream hotly down the front of his pants, his agonized scream cut off by her
hand closing again around his throat.
"Gah... ggg...." Oh please, he pleaded to any diety who would
listen, don't let it be her!
"And it comes to be," her hissing voice said, "that the soothing
light at the end of your tunnel is just a freight train coming your way. You
said that to her before you raped her."
The knife twisted in his gut, the searing agony arcing up his throat
like a crimson shaft of lightning, only to be cut off by her hand. As his
blood flowed down his clothes and onto the floor, the pain from the wound
became distant. The world grew dim and grey, sounds coming through murky
waters as his life slipped through his stomach. So, this was it. What went
around truly did come around.
"Aggg....aaa..... .... ...eeee" Akane.....
Akane studied her handiwork, the nude and rapidly cooling body lying
spreadeagle on the soft bed. She felt no better, the pain still gnawing away
at her mind as she moved over to the pool of congealing blood on the floor.
Bending down, she dipped a finger into the red liquid, smearing it
on the tip before moving over to a nearby wall. She didn't know why she was
doing this, leaving such a calling card on the wall, but she did not care.
This pile of wasted flesh had been only one, four more remained.
[Hurry, Akane,] the voice said insistently. [You must leave.] She
heard the footsteps approaching from outside the door, and jogged over to
the window. Casting one final glance at her mark, she ripped open the small
window and fled into the now waning night.
============================================
Ryo Suzaku sat in the glory of the golden sun, drinking in the
warmth of the light as his hand worked lazily on the sketchpad. Layers of
graphite coated the coarse paper as his hand moved the pencil back and forth
in a seemingly random pattern, coming together to form the image he was
attempting to bring to light.
"Hey, Ryo!" shouted a boisterous voice from behind. Ryo craned his
neck to the source, finding Kyle striding toward him. The two had met Ryo's
freshman year at Taiyo High School, and had formed a friendship as the year
had rolled past.
"Hey, Kyle," Ryo said halfheartedly, closing the sketchbook as he
rose to meet his friend. Kyle leapt down from the raised steps leading up to
the side entrance, landing in a crouch beside him.
"What's the drawing this time?" Kyle asked with a salacious wink.
"Just doodles, nothing special."
"Aw, c'mon, man. You can show me!"
"Nah..." The sketchpad vanished from Ryo's hands in a blur of grey
as Kyle easily slipped it out of his grasp. "Hey! Give that back!"
"Just a peek, man."
"Kyle..." Despite his growled warning, Kyle opened the sketchpad to
Ryo's latest work.
"Hey, who's the looker?" Kyle asked with a low and appreciative whistle.
"She's nobody!"
"Man, are you holding out on me?"
"Kyle!"
"Who is she, Ryo?" Ryo shot his friend a withering glare, knowing
that trying to avoid his questions would do no good. Sometimes Kyle could be
a real bloodhound.
"She's a girl I dream about sometimes." All the time is more like
it, he silently added.
"Hey, I'd dream about someone this cute."
"NOT LIKE THAT, PERVERT!"
"Easy, guy!" Kyle exclaimed, hands raised in a placating gesture.
Ryo seized the moment, snatching the sketchpad back from his friend. "Just
making a joke."
"Uh-huh." Ryo looked down at the sketch again, a feeling he couldn't
quite grasp fleeting through him.
"Anyway, this dream girl got a name?"
"Akane," Ryo said, tearing his eyes away from the picture's gaze.
"Akane, huh? Seems to fit her." Ryo remained silent, closing the
sketchbook as the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch.
"SO!" Kyle exclaimed as the two began the walk back inside, "got a
date in mind for the dance?"
"Not really."
"You gotta be kidding. Tell me you're kidding."
"I'm kidding," Ryo replied in a deadpan voice.
"No you're not! Ryo, man, what's wrong with you?"
"Hm?"
"Dude, you could have your pick from any girl in the whole school!
Just ask one!" Ryo didn't answer as the transparent door slid open, granting
the two access into the immaculately neat hallway.
Ryo knew that he had a few girls vying for his affections. Many of
them commented on how he looked. His body was lean and athletic, smooth
muscles accented by his black school uniform. His mop of brown hair was kept
short and bushy, bangs hanging over sea blue eyes set in a face straight
from a shonen holo-manga.
"I'm really not interested," Ryo said as they started up the stairs
to the second floor.
"Man, I KNOW you're not..."
"Definitely not. It's just that... I don't know... most of the girls
here just aren't what I'm looking for, y'know?"
"And that drawing is?"
"No, you know better than that." Ryo had to admit, however, that
there was indeed something about that picture, and the dreams that inspired
it and the others. He felt as if he should know Akane from somewhere, but
couldn't place why. Nor did he know how he knew her name so easily.
"Case in point, Keiyo."
"Kyle, don't remind me about that." The warning bell blared its
strident call into the corridor as the two neared their respective rooms.
Parting with the typical farewells, the two separated for the remainder of
the day.