3.05 am 11/Nov/00
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Note - While this story is my first offering to the FFML, it is not new. I originally posted it to the RAAC back in July where it did quite well, eventually placing second in the Best of Monthly Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction (Best Mini-Series). This was before I decided to join the FFML. I have since finally finished Part 2 (a process which was akin to pulling teeth with pliers), which will eventually become my first original post. I have decided to present Part 1 to the FFML, to re-familiarize those who have read it and for the (hopeful) enjoyment of those who have not. Part 2 will be posted in the following week or two, once I've done a final check of it, and after I get Lord Archive's (my pre-reader- hey sensei!) blessing.
I'm always tinkering with my stories, so feel free to comment and criticize on Part 1.
Thanks for your time and tolerance. Please enjoy the story.
Jeremy Harper
**********
Path of the Wolf
A Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction
By
Jeremy Harper
Disclaimer - Ranma 1/2 is the creation of Rumiko Takahashi, and is used without her permission.
Part 1
I hate Japan.
It's unpatriotic to profess such sentiments about the nation that birthed you, but I don't care. I've hated Japan for the past twenty years, and I'll hate it to my dying day. I'd much rather be in the States, where I've had the most success with my various endeavors, but that bastard Connor was hunting me again. Along with Akuma, Bison, and perhaps Saffron he's one of the few men on the face of the earth that I'm wary of fighting. It took me two years to fully recover from my last clash with him, and even though I hurt him as bad as he hurt me I wasn't eager for a rematch, so I decided that a change of scene was in order. I was in the middle of choosing between Seoul and Hong Kong when one of my factors contacted me with a contract. One Himura Wantanabe of Tokyo wished to acquire my services for an assassination. Ordinarily I would have ignored this request - I had never heard of this man, and I had long ago reached the point where I could pick and choose jobs at my leisure - but a note at the end of the missive caught my attention.
"You will find this assignment to be of great personal interest."
Not much to go on, but just enough to pique my curiosity. I told my factor to contact this Wantanabe and arrange a meeting at a suitable location. So here I am, in Tokyo for the first time in sixteen years, standing on the roof of a skyscraper on a moonless night, a fierce wind howling and clawing about me as I watch my potential client pace about nervously. I've been watching him for twenty minutes now, concealed from his sight by a facet of the Umasenken, the Silent Thief's Mantle. I'm not impressed; He's pale and paunchy, his small black eyes darting about furtively, reminding me of a trapped, nervous rat. He's an incessant chain smoker, futilely trying to light one cigarette after the other despite the hungry wind. With each passing moment his nervousness grows, until finally he appears to have decided to leave. I make my move then. He turns to head for the stairwell, and there I am before him. He gasps, stumbling back a step, dropping his cigarette. The wind snatches it away, howling in glee as it carries off its prize.
Wantanabe blinks a few times, trying to determine if I'm real or some phantasm conjured by his nerves as he tries to recompose himself. "Okami-sama?" he ventures hesitantly. I nod slightly in acknowledgement and his fat, chewed lips split into a grin. "I am glad that you deigned to meet with me. I was afraid that you had... ah... changed your mind at the last moment. I am Himura Wantanabe." He bows deeply. I return it with another nod. I see his eyes narrow and harden, obviously offended by my lack of manners. The corners of my mouth quirk up a little in a brief smile of amusement. I save manners for people I respect; if he is serious about wanting my services then politeness should not matter.
Wantanabe straightens up, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to mop his wet brow, for in spite of the cold wind he is sweating profusely. "I will... ah... I will cut to the chase, Okami-sama, since time is precious to both of us. I wish you to kill someone. Two someones, as a matter-of-fact. My cousin and his wife. He is very wealthy, and I am currently his... ah... closest living relative. Upon their death the bulk of his estate will be bequeathed to me, and I am in need of his money. I will supply you with their names, and you will... ah... dispose... of them. In return I'll pay you..." he quotes a figure to me.
I look at him, silently, for a full minute, with all the warmth a scientist spares for a research animal. His offer is almost insulting to an agent of my caliber. I take some amusement for a moment in how he fidgets uneasily beneath my gaze. Finally I turn on my heel and stride away.
"Wait, Okami-sama! At least let me tell you my cousin's name before you decide!" I ignore him. My body begins to shimmer as I start to pull the Silent Thief's Mantle around me. Then Wantanabe calls out something that strikes me dead in my tracks, as still and unmoving as an iron statue.
"His name is Kuno, Okami-sama. Kuno!"
Kuno. The name echoes in my ears, burning them. My throat clenches, my heart begins to beat a little faster. I look down at my hands, and see that they are trembling, almost imperceptibly. Kuno. I had not heard or thought of that name in over sixteen years, not since I left Japan. I turn slowly back to Wantanabe. The fat little rat is grinning again, his small eyes glinting.
"Tatewaki Kuno, to... ah... be exact. His wife's name is Nabiki. Did I not write to you in my message that you'd find this commission to be of... ah... great... personal interest?"
I'm on top of Wantanabe in an instant. His eyes bug out; to him it appeared that I teleported across the seven meters between us. He squeals in fright as he feels my hands on his collar and finds himself lifted into the air. I shake this rat hard, rattling his teeth and whipping his head.
"What do you know of me?" I snarl, speaking to him for the first time. He flinches at the sound of my voice, harsh and grating, like rusted wire scraping across granite. He babbles incoherently, and I lift him higher, extending my arms full above my head. He squeals again, this one higher pitched, frightened and appalled by the monstrous strength I command. Fool. He obviously had no conception of just what I am when he decided to contact me. "Tell me what you know of me or else I'll throw you down to hell." I start towards the building's edge. I feel him go slack as fear overwhelms him.
"Don't... ah... don't! I'll tell! I'll tell!" he sobs out. I throw him roughly to the concrete and pin him down with my foot. I bend over him, and he quails at the fire lighting my good right eye.
"Start speaking..." I command, pulling my foot off of him and stepping back. He struggles up to a sitting position, his breath coming in rasps while his shoulders shake. He finally regains control of his breathing, licking his chapped lips as he gathers his thoughts.
"I... ah... I learned of something that happened twenty years ago..." he starts hesitantly. "Twenty years ago a young man was finally going to marry a young woman after a... ah... tumultuous... year long engagement, arranged by their families. It so happened that my cousin desired this young woman for himself. He tried every means available to win her over, both honorable and... ah... otherwise, but to no avail. The young woman, despite her protests, was in love with her fianc�. Unable to beat this man in a fight or woo the woman away, my cousin stooped to one last... ah... resort. With the vast monetary resources available to him he hired investigators to delve into the young man's past..."
Wantanabe pauses for a moment to swallow. I can feel his wary gaze on my back. I've turned away from him, slowly becoming lost in unwelcome memories of the past. I hear him lick his lips again, and he continues, a cruel, almost amused tone now evident in his voice.
"On the day of the wedding - at the very moment the bride and groom were approaching the altar, their families looking on with pride - notes were scattered about the chapel as well as the entire ward that the young man and woman lived in. On the notes was a proclamation that claimed the young man's... ah... lineage... was less than desirable. They claimed that the young man was... ah... burakumin, his blood tainted by his sire. On that day everyone in the young man's life turned against him. His bride and her family, his friends, even his own mother... all turned... ah... all turned against him."
"You're wrong there..." I whisper. "Not everyone betrayed me..."
He does not hear me. "My cousin Kuno destroyed the young man's life without a second thought just so he could have a free hand at courting the young woman. I know that you were that young man, Okami-sama. Or should I call you Ranma... ah... Saotome?"
"No, you shall not." I answer coldly. I hear Wantanabe shuffle up to his feet. Time passes silently between us, and again he grows nervous. He is not use to silence. To me, it is an old, dear friend. Finally he can stand it no longer.
"So, will you take my commission?" he asks impatiently. I'll give him this much, he is quick to forget fear. He must think he has me cowed. I hold my peace for another minute.
"How did you learn all this?" I query, ignoring his question.
"My cousin couldn't help but boast of his achievement to the family. From there it was a simple matter investigation. You did not take pains in covering your tracks... ah... Sao-"
I'm on top of him again before he can say that name, checking him hard and sending him skidding three meters on his fat ass. I blur, and before he can cry out Wantanabe is once again trapped beneath my boot. I loom over him, my eye blazing with black fire. I lock my hand around his throat and squeeze.
"Don't call me that," I hiss to him, as his eyes bulge and he struggles against my grip. "Don't ever call me that again. Ranma Saotome is dead. He died long, long ago. I am Okami-sama - the Wolf Lord - the Lord of Hate. Do you understand that, you fat fool?"
He nods desperately. I shake him, cracking the back of his lard-filled skull against the concrete before I let him go. I step away, and he scurries back, hyperventilating, putting as much distance as he can between us. I watch him, but find no pleasure in his fear. My anger is too great. He stops some ten meters away, his back against the stair house.
"Do you... ah... do you treat all your clients in such a deplorable manner?" He asks shakily, rising to his feet, using the house for support.
"No. Only the ones who don't know their etiquette." I pause, my eyes narrowing as I watch him. "I accept your commission. In three days the Kunos will be dead. In three days you will meet me here again with my payment..." I name my price. He starts to protest, but I cut him off with a slash of my hand. "A fifth of it is your original offer. The rest is for the dubious privilege of knowing my past. You have no choice in this. You will have the money for me, or else I will make you rue the day your mother gave birth to you." With that I don the Silent Thief's Mantle, vanishing from sight. Wantanabe gasps. His eyes roll back, and he slowly slumps to the concrete in a faint.
"Fool..." I mutter, and I leave this forsaken building, heading back to my lodgings.
**********
I stand beneath the spray of my hotel room's shower, the water washing me scalding hot to the touch. I've stood beneath it for twenty minutes now, hoping that the pain would drive away these memories trying to fight their way up into my consciousness. I should of known better. Damn that fat fool. I turn the shower knob, lowering the temperature. The spray slowly cools. My body instinctively flinches from it. Another reminder of my past, my body still dislikes cold water, even though I haven't suffered from the indignities of the Junsenkyo curse for some sixteen years now. I shut off the water, step out and towel off. I wind the towel around my waist and step to sink, leaning on it with my hands, staring into the porcelain basin. Slowly, wearily, I look up into the mirror.
An old man stares back at me. Thirty-seven. I'm only thirty-seven, yet I'm old before my time. My face is worn and weathered, the toll of twenty years of fighting, atrocity and bloodshed quite evident. The left side is a ruin, a great white scar cutting straight down across it, starting from my brow, over the blind, white, eye, down to the corner of my mouth. The rest of my countenance, time-etched, scar bitten, is scarcely better. My hair, still thick and full, is flecked with gray, and with each passing day the gray becomes more and more prominent. I think I was handsome once, but any comeliness I had is now long since squandered.
I slowly close my eyes and breath in deeply. I let the breath go, and I stop fighting. I'm too tired to keep fighting. I find this funny. I, who can fight and kill for hours on end without even breathing heavily, drained into submission by the effort of keeping thoughts and memories of a distant past repressed.
I open my eyes. I can see that my good right eye is blazing, an azure firestorm, as the thoughts come, the memories flood.
(They claimed that the young man was... ah... burakumin...) It's been a long time since I even thought of that word, let alone think of MYSELF as that. Burakumin... people of the hamlet... a polite euphemism for what most people really think. A less conscientious man would simply cut to the quick of the matter and call me eta... much filth. Of course, such a man would find himself on his back, dead, his still beating heart aflame in my hand; calling a burakumin eta is akin to calling a black man nigger...
Burakumin. The word rolls in my mind; the unhappy descendants of the people who did all the spiritually dirty work in Tokugawa era Japan: the tanners and the butchers and the torturers and the vulgar executioners, and because of the occupations of ancestors ten times removed, burakumin are treated like garbage. I lost everything I cared for, because I was burakumin. Ranma Saotome died, and Okami-sama was born, because I was burakumin.
I lean a little closer to the mirror, my eyes narrowing. So Kuno was the one who spread those notes that day. A childishly simple deduction, in retrospect, but at the time I was no condition to make such a conjecture. Perfectly in character for Kuno - if he couldn't win something by fair means he would use foul methods, rationalizing his treachery away. He could never truly defeat me honestly, so he dug into my past and used a stupid, age-old prejudice to take everything from me. And like his cousin said, he probably didn't give it a second thought. Perhaps he even thought it to be his duty to warn people that they were risking spiritual contamination by being so close to me.
My grip on the basin tightens, my knuckles going white. I'm trembling, my eyes closing shut as flashes from that day crowd my mind. I'm at the altar, and I watch HER approach. I remember how perfect she looked, how much I wanted to be with her, how much I WANTED her, how much I....
I take her hand, and the priest begins. I start to lose myself in her eyes, but I hear flutters, then gasps from the assembly. I see old man Tendo approaching us, his face white, expression carefully neutral, a note crumpled in his hand. He quietly, politely tells me that I cannot marry his daughter. Incredulous, I hold her hand tightly, demanding why not. The neutral mask slips, his face contorting in rage and disgust, as he shouts at me to keep my filthy hands off his daughter. He thrusts the note at me, and I see...
I'm on my knees; staring at the floor, praying silently that this is all but a nightmare and that I'll wake up and it'll be my wedding day... I hear the tumult behind me. I hear my father make lame excuses, as usual, and my mother's wrath, screaming how dare he taint her son like this. She chases him out of the chapel, katana free and bloodthirsty. I hear Akane's shrill protests, saying that she doesn't care if I'm burakumin; she loves me and wants me. I hear her family beat her down with words and arguments; Tendo saying that he won't allow his house and blood be tainted by such filth, such dirt; Nabiki with her cynical, self-serving rationales. But it's Kasumi who defeats Akane, who twists the knife in my dying heart. She asks her what their mother would think if she hurt the family by marrying something like me. Something... like... me... Kind, sweet Kasumi doesn't even think of me as human, can't even call me a person.
That's what breaks Akane. I hear her last words to me, "I'm sorry, Ranma. Please don't think of me with bitterness!" She runs from the chapel weeping, her family slowly following. I don't think they deign me a last look...
I'm alone. Alone with the pain, alone with the loneliness I thought I would banish forever this day. I look at my trembling, clenched hands. My palms are bleeding from where my nails had dug into them. I see swirling about my arms a heavy, lead gray aura, streaked with red and black. I shut my eyes and begin to scream as I concentrate the shi-shi-hodoken perfect on myself, determined to obliterate myself from the face of the planet. Something touches the back of my neck, and blackness falls over me...
I start from my memories as I hear a crack and feel something bite into my hands. I look down to see that I had crushed the basin edge, porcelain shards cutting my palms.
I slowly let go of the basin and lift up my hands, looking down at my calloused palms, watching with indifference as my blood begins to bead up in several spots. I wash and bind them with bandages, then retire to bed. I lay naked beneath the sheets, contemplating the dark that surrounds me, before I allow sleep to take me.
But my past is not yet done with me. It comes to me in dreams...
**********
Cologne had been the one who saved me on that miserable day. The Amazons had been waiting outside the chapel, wanting to talk to me one last time before I left on my honeymoon. They had witnessed everything, and Cologne managed to strike the sleep point on the back of my neck before I released my energy. I woke up hours later, laying in a bed at the Nekohanten, Cologne and Shampoo watching over me.
I was not grateful. I cursed them, raving and screaming as my grief, anger, and death wish roared back to consciousness. For the next five days I was insane, restrained in my bed to keep myself from suicide. Cologne had to keep an eye on me constantly, continually re-applying shiatsu points that prevented me from tapping into the shi-shi-hodoken perfect. Shampoo and Mousse took turns taking care of me, both treating me with a gentleness and kindness that I never knew they possessed, and I repaid them for it with curses and threats. On the sixth day my rage guttered and died, having finally consumed itself. I wept, and Cologne and Shampoo held me as I cried in agony and pain. I slept again...
With my rage gone, Cologne let me out of bed, but only after I swore on my honor that I wouldn't attempt suicide, and even then someone was always with me. My initial bout of weeping had left me in a stupor as the reality of what happened tried to register in my brain. Mute and unfeeling, I roamed the back of the Nekohanten restlessly, like some unquiet ghost searching for something long vanished. I did not speak. I barely ate or drank. I'd sleep, but only in short fitful naps, for nightmares that, thankfully, I could never remember would haunt it. How long I was like this, I don't quite know. It lasted at least as long as my rage. But I remember quite clearly the day I finally spoke; for that was the day I began to die.
I was in the shower. I think I'd been it there for a half-hour, with the water on so hot that it should of burned the skin off of me. I heard a voice calling me, and I turned to see Mousse looking at me.
"Ranma, please come out. You're going to hurt yourself." I nodded, and shut off the water. I stepped out and took a towel, muttering as I rubbed myself dry. I saw Mousse cock his head, trying to catch what I said.
"Unclean. No matter how much I wash, how much I scrub, I'll always be unclean..."
Mousse winced, looking at me in sorrow and sympathy. "I'll be in the hallway if you need anything, okay Ranma?" I don't acknowledge him, and he left with a sigh. I finished drying and just stood in the middle of the washroom, dumb and unfeeling. I breathed in deeply, filling my lungs, and released, then looked about stupidly, stopping when I saw my image in a mirror. I approached it slowly, almost warily, as I stared at the stranger the reflection showed. It was me, yet not me. Even at my sickest I never had looked so pale. My hair was unbound, dangling wet and lifeless about my shoulders. Heavy bags puffed out from beneath my eyes. And my eyes... My eyes were the eyes of a corpse: glazed, lusterless, little more than two sunken, unmoving stones set deep into my skull. I shut them. I couldn't look at them anymore; it made me almost physically ill to do so.
I bowed my head and leaned forward, resting it against the cold, slick mirror, my hands planted to both sides of it to support me. I feel my shoulders begin to shake. Just as my insanity and grief could not reign over me forever, the walls I had built to protect my dying heart and soul from this reality could no longer endure. Despite my efforts they crumbled and eroded like sandcastles lashed by the tide. They were destroyed utterly, not even foundations remaining, and I was left naked, exposed to the pain and the truth...
I had been betrayed... again. I have lost what I cared for... again...
"Why?" I whispered to everyone and no one. "Why, why, why, why?" I expected no answer. A lone tear burned its way free from my eye, tumbling to the floor. I stepped back and looked up and opened my eyes as for the first time in my life I surrendered, I acknowledged that I cannot beat something, despite all the power I possess. I... Can... Not... Win...
With that epiphany, that sudden flash of satori, my anger returned, kindling the ashes in my ruined heart. But not like before, when I was insane: a hot, mindless inferno, ultimately self-destructive. It took me a minute realize that this cold icy fire I felt was not anger at all, but something else that was similar yet different. Something that I never truly felt before. I looked back into my reflection's eyes, and saw that they were alive again, burning with a black fire. That's when I heard the Voice, a growling whisper in the back of my mind. I had heard it three times before in my life: the first time, after my fool of a father fractured my mind by 'training' me with the Nekoken technique; the second time, after I pulled myself from the Spring of Drowned Girl; the third time, after I thought I had lost Akane because of Saffron's cruelty and selfishness. But I had never heard it so clearly or so plainly as I did then.
Follow me, it crooned harshly to me, follow my Path, for it is the way of strength, of power, of invincibility. Follow my Path, and no one will ever hurt you or take from you again. Follow... Follow... Follow...
And for the first time I saw the owner of this voice in my mind's eye, a huge, looming shadow, shaggy and lupine, feral and powerful, a great, dire wolf, waiting to lead me down his Path.
I closed my eyes, and made my decision.
**********
I walked into the dining room of the Nekohanten, backpack in my hands. Shampoo had managed to get my clothes from the dojo before Kasumi or old man Tendo got around to throwing them out. I stood still for a moment, watching the Amazons as they worked. Cologne was checking her books, while Shampoo and Mousse set up for the evening rush. Cologne noticed me first. She looked up from her books, arching an eyebrow when she saw the pack.
"Going somewhere, Ranma?" she asked quietly. I nodded, head slightly bowed, hiding my eyes with my bangs. I didn't want her to see them just yet.
"I want to talk to you all, before I leave." I murmured back. Shampoo and Mousse stop their chores and gather behind Cologne. They look at me, sympathy plain and open in their eyes. I noticed Shampoo taking Mousse's hand. A smile flickered briefly across my lips. Good for them, I thought, I hope their life will be happier than mine.
I took a deep breath and began. "Thank you, all of you, for taking me in. I'm sorry that I've been such a lousy guest... You all have been good friends to me, better than I thought I could ever have... especially you, Shampoo, considering the way I treated you in the days before my..." I trailed off.
"Shampoo happy to be your friend. Shampoo understands that Ranma was just following his heart. Can't blame you for that. Shampoo just wishes that... that Akane did same..." I winced at hearing that name, turning my face away from the Amazons.
"You didn't deserve what happened to you Saotome," added Mousse.
"Maybe, maybe not." I laughed, bitterly. Cologne started at the sound of it, and looked at me closely. "Maybe I did deserve it. Maybe I'm paying for crimes and sins I committed in a past life. Karma... It'd go a long way towards explaining why my life has been so miserable."
"You shouldn't say such things Ranma." Cologne said sternly. I just shrugged, then shouldered my pack and headed toward the door.
"I better go. I'm sick of Nerima, and I don't want my presence to hurt your business."
"That doesn't matter to us Ranma. We're leaving Japan in a week, to head back to the village." Mousse told me.
"Ranma more than welcome to come with us." Shampoo added. I stopped at the door, and turned to face them.
"I don't think that'd be a good idea. I doubt your village would want someone like me living there."
"We're Chinese Amazons, Ranma. We have our prejudices, but they are not Japanese prejudices. My people wouldn't care about your ancestry," said Cologne.
"I know that, Old... Cologne. But there's another reason why they wouldn't want me." I looked up, brushing my bangs from my eyes. Cologne gasped and Shampoo paled, falling a step back. Mousse blinked, confused by their reactions. Even with his glasses on he couldn't see the black, icy fire that burned in my eyes.
"I'm tired Cologne. I'm tired of being constantly rejected by this world, and having everything I care for taken from me. I've tried to be honorable, to be good, and I've gotten nothing but misery and pain in return for it. What happened two weeks ago was the final straw. I'm through playing the fool. I refuse to be hurt anymore. From now on, I'M going to be the one who takes, who inflicts pain"
"Ranma..." Cologne began, but I cut her off.
"People loath and despise me for what I am, for being burakumin," I shook my head. "Uh-uh, that isn't a good enough reason. I'm going to give them a REAL reason to loathe me. I'm going to give them a REAL reason to despise me. But most of all, I'm going to give them a reason to FEAR me."
By then Shampoo was in tears, frightened by my words and my eyes. She clung to Mousse, looking at me fearfully as she tried not to sob. Mousse looked little better, his expression pale and almost sick. Cologne was trembling, leaning heavily on her staff for support.
"Ranma, you don't mean this," she protested, but from what I saw in her eyes I knew she believed my sincerity. I answered her with a cold, sinister smile that was more akin to a snarl than anything else.
"Good-bye all. I hope life is good to you, better than it was to me. And I hope that you never see me again." With that I left the Nekohanten, the sound of Shampoo's weeping following me, along with another sound; a long coughing wail of anguish and despair. It took me a moment to realize it was Cologne. I hadn't known that someone as old and withered as her could even cry anymore...
It didn't stop me though. Without even a backwards glance, I stepped onto the Path laid out before me.
**********
The rest of my life plays quickly for my mind's eye as I slowly stir into wakefulness. For the first four years I stayed in Japan, perfecting my Arts and desecrating everything I once believed in. I reveled in wanton cruelty, stole from rich and poor alike without compunction, and left a trail of pain and violence the likes of which had never been seen in modern times. A man's life held no more importance to me than a fly's, and I would snuff either's out without a second thought. I gave back to the world all the pain and indignities it had heaped upon me twice fold, harnessing my hate the way I once tapped my confidence, Mouko Takabisha gave way to Howling Wolf's Hatred. In very little time I had fulfilled my promise to Cologne, and in my mind the Wolf howled with pleasure and pride.
Then, at the end of the fourth year of this new life word came to me that Junsenkyo had been restored. By then I had graduated into the top tier of professional thieves and assassins. I was a freelancer, my skills highly sought after by various factions, all very willing to pay well for the privilege of harnessing my hatred for the accomplishment of their goals. I finished my current assignment and left Japan for China, returning to Junsenkyo and finding the Spring of Drowned Man with no hindrance - more proof to my mind that this world never awards the good. I bathed in the Spring, and with that baptism I washed away what little remained of Ranma Saotome. I finally died, and from the ashes of that pitiful, failed life arose Okami-sama, the Wolf Lord. I never returned to Japan, instead journeying across the world until I finally settled in the United States. I never gave my homeland and my old life a second thought... until that fat rat Wantanabe caught my attention with his damnable missive.
Fully awake now, I throw the off my sheets and get up. My memories are done with me, and I banish them back to the vault from which they escaped; the past is irrelevant, the future does not exist. Only the NOW matters, and in the NOW I have been hired by one Himura Wantanabe to assassinate his cousin, Tatewaki Kuno, and his wife Nabiki Kuno. And if I happen to enjoy myself a little more than I would with a commonplace commission, so much the better. I begin my exercises, practicing my katas, honing my body, while reviewing the mental routines and techniques that access my will and power. Once finished I take a quick shower to wash off the sweat and order room service. I eat an American-style breakfast, a cheese and mushroom omelet, with English muffins and grapefruit. I then meditate upon the virtues of my chosen Path and Patron, embracing and encompassing the strength, the ruthlessness, the lonely grandeur and self-sufficiency of the Wolf...
I open my eyes. The day is almost gone; my time has arrived. I stand and retrieve my work clothes from my suitcase. I dress in my skins and summon the Thief's Silent Mantle. It's time to begin...
The sun is setting, bleeding red light onto my back as I survey the Kuno estate. It looks even more prosperous than I last remember. Probably Nabiki's influence, she always had a knack for feathering her own nest, usually to the detriment of those around her. I wonder briefly how she and Kuno have changed over the years, or exactly why, let alone how, she married him. Despite their constant association through business they always seemed contemptuous of each other. I shrug these thoughts off, for they're inconsequential to the matter at hand. I vault the low wall and land silently in the yard, crouching on all fours. I stay still for the next few minutes, scanning with eye and intuition for the archaic, yet dangerous traps that I know from personal experience the estate is littered with. I discover nothing. Nabiki must have a curbing effect on Kuno's eccentricities, making things so much the easier for me. I stand and stride towards the manor proper.
My first task is to eliminate the servants. I plan on taking a little more time than usual on this assignment, and I don't want any unnecessary distractions interfering. With the Thief's Silent Mantle it's child's play to incapacitate them piecemeal. I do not kill them -
Needless murder is the trademark of the amateur or the madman, and I'm no longer either - but simply render them unconscious with pressure points or simple brute strength. The manor seems under-populated, but then Kuno's family always did have trouble keeping their servants. I finish off and hide the last one and now start searching for the Kunos.
I overheard one servant saying that they were still dining, so I begin with the dining room.
Got it in one, for there they are, entertaining guests. Time has been kind to them; for except for gaining a little weight they look almost the same as they did twenty years ago. Kuno is still nobly, arrogantly, handsome, and Nabiki still coldly beautiful, but on second glance I see that Kuno's eyes are not as vacant or stupid as they once were, nor is Nabiki's face as carefully expressionless. Time has changed them, perhaps for the better, but I don't care. Wantanabe's revelation and Nabiki's cruel rationalizations run through my mind. I lick my teeth in anticipation. A Howling Wolf's Hatred could end this now, pulverizing the pair in an instant, and I would be gone before their guests could even scream. If it were anyone else I would do just that. But not for them, I fully intend to enjoy myself with this.
I chuckle silently. That fop Vega was right; revenge truly is a dish best served cold.
I look away from the Kunos to take a measure of their guests. I'll have to incapacitate them first before I start with the main course. I cock my head slightly; from where I'm standing I can only see their backs, but they seem familiar to me. I tighten the Mantle about myself and walk to a different part of the room... and I almost gasp when I see their faces. It seems that Nabiki is entertaining family tonight. There's old man Tendo sitting to Kuno's right, dressed in a simple dark suit instead of his usual gi. His hair and mustache are iron gray now, and he appears to be somewhat pale and stooped. Next to him is Kasumi. Time has touched her about as much as it has touched Nabiki. She's still a classic beauty, modest and demure. I give neither of them a second thought, for my eye is locked on the cause of my gasp, the focus of my undivided attention: the beautiful woman sitting to Kasumi's right...
Akane...
Akane...
Akane...
Kami, she's as unchanged as her sisters. She looks just as good as I remember her. Better perhaps. her hair is a little longer and her face a little sharper, accentuating her pouty lips and warm brown eyes. She's a bit taller, and her figure, which had always been good - my fool's jabs non-withstanding - is much fuller now, much lusher. She seems not to be taking part in the conversation around her, looking away from her family, her expression pensive.
The breath hisses through my teeth, as I bow my head and close my eyes. Her presence is almost a physical blow to my senses. I begin to tremble, sweat starting up on my brow, trickling a clinging path down my face. I lean against the wall for support, covering my face with a gloved hand. My Mantle twists and buckles around me, in time with the tempest of emotions rolling in my charred, withered heart. Hate and love and anger and lust and longing and desire and... If not for the shadows I stand in someone would have seen me by now. I can't do this. Not with her here, with her watching. I'll have to retreat, to wait till she leaves. I doubt that she's staying here. I'll wait till she leaves with Tendo and Kasumi and then I'll finish what I came for.
But you can't retreat, growls the Wolf, his graven voice reverberating in my skull. By dealing as you did with the servants you've committed yourself to this strike. The longer you wait, the greater the chance of the Kunos being alerted.
I can't do this, I answer. Not in front of her...
What do you owe the bitch anyway? The Wolf demands. She never cared for you. If she did, she would not have left you at that damn altar. All she ever did was hurt you and betray you, like all others.
But it's Akane...
YOU OWE HER NOTHING! NOTHING BUT PAIN! SHE NEVER LOVED YOU! IF SHE HAD LOVED YOU SHE WOULD HAVE STAYED WITH YOU!
But her family, they...
There is no justification good enough, the Wolf whispers. There are no circumstances strong enough to mitigate her crime against you. You gave her your heart and your soul and she threw them away as if they were base garbage, just because of your lineage. You owe her nothing. Now strike, and finish your commission. Strike, and be avenged for your pain.
I stop trembling. I raise my face from my hand, lips twisted in a snarl. The Wolf is right. What do I owe her? Nothing. I threw away my pride and my cure for her, saved her countless times, and she gave me nothing in return. I owe her no consideration.
(Why do these thoughts ring so hollow in my mind and my soul?)
I will not hurt her. Let her watch. She cannot stop me. I will kill Kuno, I will kill Nabiki, and the final shred of my former life will be shed. Resolute, I prepare.
Kuno rises from his seat, saying something about seeing where the servants have gone. He walks in my direction. Perfect, right into my arms.
I strike.
//////////
Author's Notes and Acknowledgements
The wedding scene that Okami-sama remembers is pretty much the same as the one that occurs in A Village Tale by Adrian Wong. Path of the Wolf is a reaction to that story, or at least that scene.
I would like to thank Lord Archive, Kalaong, and especially my dear friend Ranma's Girl for their input on and support for this story.
Please send comments and criticism to DorianVal@aol.com. Don't bother with flames, please; if you have nothing polite or constructive to say then don't write.
Thank you for your time and tolerance.
Jeremy Harper