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The FFML Refugee List
Hey all,
Here comes part 12 of Fragments.
For previous chapters, please go here:
www.crosswinds.net/~echonymph/fragments.html
^*^*^
^*^*^
Nerima
13 years 4 months previous
Hibiki Ryoga didn't take crap from anyone, least of all
some sadomasochistic twit nursing a growing affection for
his mortal enemy and rival for Akane's love.
And after a three-week hospital stay, he was more than
prepared to get even. Hell, even
* Ranma * had gotten out of the hospital earlier than he
had! And that was with considerable trauma and a minor
skull fracture!
There was just no other way about it.
Tanakawa Yuki was going down, and she was going to go down
* hard *.
He'd paid Nabiki an exorbitant amount of money for a deep
background check; he'd commanded that she tell him anything
and everything, regardless of how inane.
He'd hoped that she'd turn up something good, like
burakumin ancestry, he had not anticipated something as
good as what he held in his hands.
Nabiki however, had looked wary.
"Ryoga-kun, I know you're angry at her, but this," she had
paused, "this isn't going to be forgivable. This is going
too far."
Ryoga had only sneered and taken the papers, muttering
something about things in general that were unforgivable.
So it came down to this, this photocopy of a doctor's
report retraced with a black, felt-tip marker so every word
jumped off the page. It came down to this piece of paper
being Xeroxed, and then being taped to every bulletin board
in the school, distributed to every teacher.
And of course, the final act of cruelty, leaving it on her
homeroom desk, folded neatly into three parts, pressed into
a plain, white envelope, with only the word 'Tanakawa'
written across it.
He had waited for what seemed like hours for the school day
to start, hidden impatiently in the eaves outside her
classroom, unrepentantly angry.
He heard the first bell ring, and students started to file
into the school, some of them glancing causally towards the
boards, and their eyes catching on the paper there,
suddenly fascinated by its words.
The whispers started.
Ryoga grinned, congratulating himself.
Just as the tardy bell rang, he observed from his perch
that Akane and Ranma, headed off my Yuki were bolting into
the schoolyard. With a massive burst of energy, Yuki took
a flying leap and landed on the third story ledge, not
noticing Ryoga just above her head in her panic. Somewhere
below, Akane and Ranma yelled "CHEATER!" and rushed into
the school, only to be condemned to the hall with bucket
duty moments later.
It took a moment, or maybe two, for Yuki to sit down and
calm herself enough to notice the envelope on her desk.
Her brow furrowed as she looked at it, feeling its weight
in her hands, biting her lip in curiosity and an odd sense
of dread.
With steady fingers, she tore away the flap and pulled the
sheet of white, computer-printout paper from the envelope,
looking all the more mystified as she unfolded the top
third, and pulled open the second and last.
Ryoga stared from his spot, now with his face pressed
eagerly against the glass.
Yuki's teacher sat stunned at his desk, a piece of paper
held up before him, his face a mixture of disgust and pity,
and his eyes were rapidly glancing at his redheaded
student, frozen in place at her desk. His mouth opened and
closed like a fish, while no words would come out.
The students sat together, laughing and joking, their end
of the hall didn't have a bulletin board, they didn't know.
One of them called out a cheerful greeting to Yuki, only to
be ignored, completely and totally.
Ryoga grinned, this was perfect.
Tanakawa Yuki sat at her desk, hands trembling as she held
the document in her in fingers, and an expression on her
face that Ryoga had never seen before. Her entire body
shook like a leaf, and she had turned white as snow.
She didn't make a sound.
But it was her eyes that said everything.
That brilliant, immutable blue that glowed so carefree in
the sunlight, and that turned so dark in sadness.
It was no longer blue. Instead, it had morphed into some
black chimera of color, mixing grays and browns and dark
until it reached an indescribable hue, one only known by
misery, one personified by despair.
Shame.
Humiliation.
Disbelief.
Ryoga narrowed his eyes and grinned, whispering to himself:
"Ruin."
And that was what this was to her.
Yuki was still motionless at her seat, and her friends
started to swarm about her, concerned about her unusual
silence.
But she didn't notice any of that, she saw only the worn
words on that crisp sheet of paper, and her mind only
screamed silently as she realized what it was.
-----------------------------------------------
HOKKAIDO MEDICAL INSTITUTE - EMERGENCY WARD
PRIVATE HOSPITAL USE ONLY! FILE SEPARATELY!
Exam Rm: 6a
Date/Time: 10/16/87 - 5:56 pm
Exam Nurse: Y. Mameha
Exam Doctor: H. Tozikashi
Patient: Tanakawa Yuki
Category: PED Age: 9 Gender: F
Guardian(s): [Unknown - EMS]
Complaints/Symptoms:
Mild concussion, small cut on the back of head. Sustained
dementia, possible psychosis. Various bruises and cuts.
Vaginal tearing and bleeding, complete penetration of the
hymen, extensive bruising of thighs and vulva. Torn
sphincter, and extensive tissue damage to all parts of
female genitals.
Prognosis:
Unfavorable, girl is psychologically unstable, unable to
maintain extended periods of conscious or logical thought.
Treatment:
[See 'Rape Trauma' handbook.]
pap-smear, blood test, (no early menstruation, pregnancy
test not necessary), X-ray for possible broken wrist.
Early HIV test, and required six month, one year, two year,
and three year HIV screenings thereafter.
Notes:
See attached police report.
-----------------------------------------------
Yuki suddenly slammed the paper face-down on the table.
This was her darkness.
This was what the black place inside her soul was filled
of, memory upon aching memory of what had happened that
late afternoon.
Her eyes scanned the room wildly, searching for a pitying
face, looking for someone who dared to look at her with
disgust or sadness.
She finally settled on the expression of her teacher, so
repulsed and at the same time, feeling so terribly sorry
for her. She suddenly heard the whispers of some student
behind her, talking in a lowered, unbelieving tone:
"Yeah! I saw it when I went to the bathroom a second ago.
They were posted up all over the school, I can't believe
it? I mean, rape?"
"Poor Yuki-san! I can't believe it!"
"You mean . . . she's not a virgin anymore?"
"Christ, at nine? What a whore!"
And the dam broke.
It didn't really surprise Ranma when he saw his friend
barrel down the hall, tears in her eyes, a horrified scream
on her lips. It didn't really shock Akane that Yuki had
slammed into the two of them, overturned their buckets,
picked herself up, and kept running.
After all, they had been standing in front of a bulletin
board during their punishment. And, after all, Ranma had
seen that paper, and had proceeded to tear it fiber by
fiber apart.
"YUKI! KUSO! YUKI, WAIT!" Ranma cried, now wet and
female, he started to chase after her.
While Akane just knelt down to where the bits of paper
were, taking a handful of the white stuff in her hands, she
looked up and out the window, just in time to see a
redheaded girl collapse in the schoolyard, and her
identical friend enclose her in a deep embrace.
For the first time in ages, Akane felt a tremor in her
heart. Once that started as a waver and ended as a storm,
made up of doubt and fear and subliminal jealousy.
Akane had known of Yuki for more than three months, but for
the first time, she feared that she didn't know the girl,
the competition, that lay beneath that quiet exterior.
For months on months, Ranma had been hers. Her protector,
her friend, her fianc�, her man. Even as she grew angry
with him for the arrivals of Shampoo and Ukyo, Kodachi and
the endless other assortment of girls that he seemed to
attract in swarms, she'd never felt threatened.
Because she was his strong fianc�e. The uncute one, the
girl who didn't take his lip; Akane knew he liked that in a
woman.
But who was this fragile creature?
The broken girl who wept in public and shattered when
struck? This mere child who had captured his interest and
stolen his good intention? With her red hair and blue
eyes, words and easy-going smile - was that what he wanted?
Was that what he yearned for?
Akane stood there in that hallway, a buzz of whisper and
gossip floating in the background, and a rumbling inside
her, watching as Ranma rocked Yuki's shaking body back and
forth.
Somewhere on the roof of Furinkan High School, Ryoga's
lunacy started to wear off, just enough so he could see the
scope of what he had done.
She'd broken a few bones, and embarrassed him.
He'd pulled her apart, fiber by fiber, flesh from flesh,
and left her naked and unguarded, her past in full review
where any person could cruelly dissect her . . .
Taunt her, ridicule her, hurt her.
Guilt reared its ugly head.
Ryoga stood there atop the school, eyes stinging from the
unrelenting wind (or was it the unkind self-realization?)
as he watched Ranma and Yuki down below.
Down below where Ranma held her, and Yuki clung to him as a
drowning woman did to driftwood in the midst of an
unfriendly ocean. And Ranma did what he could to comfort
her.
Stroking her hair like a mother to a child, whispering
words as a friend to a friend, and weeping for her agony,
as a lover does for his beloved.
^*^*^
Ryoga shook as the memory subsided.
Yuki narrowed her eyes and hissed, "Here's how it's going
to work, Hibiki, I'm going to ask you a question, you're
going to nod for 'yes', and you're going to shake your head
for 'no'. Is that clear?"
Ryoga nodded slowly, in no hurry to bring more flesh closer
than absolutely necessary to that razor sharp edge of the
knife.
"You didn't find this place on your own, did you? Someone
sent you here, right?"
He nodded again, eyes trained on Yuki's cool expression.
"Was it Nabiki?"
Ryoga hesitated; he'd learned from past experience that to
cross Nabiki was a dangerous practice, also. In his brain,
a horrible struggle ensued, to betray Nabiki and be
tormented for an indefinite amount of time, or to irritate
Yuki, and be confined to a hospital bed for an indefinite
amount of time.
He decided his finances could take a hit when he saw the
redhead start to tense the hand that held the knife.
He nodded.
She grinned, "Alright, I was worried for a second that you
weren't going to answer me." She paused for a moment and
tapped her finger against her lip and grinned. "Ryoga, do
you know * why * she sent you instead of coming herself?"
Shake.
Kimiko pouted unhappily, "Damn, you're useless, do you know
that, Ryoga?" All she got in return was a glare. "Fine,"
she sighed, "Do you know who her source is?"
Ryoga wracked his memory, grasping for something that had
imbedded itself deep into his mind a long time ago.
A whisper of words, something about speed dial, what was
it, what was it?
Yuki smiled again, and whispered, "I can tell you know
something, so here's the deal. We both know exactly what I
think about you."
She teased the point of the knife a bit, and Ryoga's eyes
looked fearfully towards the gleam of light against the
edge of it, "So I think you'll take this threat with a
grain of salt."
He nodded, but not too much, the knife blade was pointing
upwards, and he had no particular interest to add to the
pain that was blooming from his throat.
She smiled, darkly, "Good boy. Now, I'm going to take the
gag off, and if you so much as make a noise, I'll slit you
from your nose to your belly, understand?"
He didn't dare move, but was certain the expression in his
eyes was enough. She held the knife at his throat with an
unwavering hand while the other removed his gag.
He didn't say a word, and she smiled.
"Perfect, Ryoga-san. Now, tell me, who is Nabiki's
informant, and use as few words as possible."
"Someone," he rasped quickly, "someone she has on speed
dial two, I think. A man, called Sanii, or Kuzio, I'm not
sure." He shut his mouth abruptly, watching Yuki's eyes
narrow.
"Are you certain about that, Ryoga-san?" she asked
dangerously, her face and form never betraying her inner
fear for a moment. Something in her voice guaranteed Ryoga
that if she discovered that there was even half an ounce of
untruth in the statement; he'd be paying her in blood.
"Well, I'm not sure about the speed dial two thing, but
otherwise, yeah, I'm sure," he babbled loudly, willing to
just about anything to get that knife away from his throat.
She was a woman forged from the blood and steel of a dark
past, and she * would * fight to protect her future.
Yuki pulled the knife away from his throat and relaxed just
a little, a dangerous smile on her face. "You want to know
a secret, Ryoga-san?" she said quietly, and leaning down
towards him, one delicate finger millimeters away from
touching his forehead, she whispered:
"I never forgave you."
And with that, she pressed her palm to his forehead and
slammed him against the refrigerator door, clucking her
tongue softly as she saw the small, red stain there.
Grabbing a washcloth, she cleaned off her appliance before
putting on some clothes and untying Ryoga's unconscious
form. She propped him up in the elevator and once they
reached the lobby, she settled him into a cab headed
towards the Tendo Dojo in Nerima.
^*^*^
"I've got the caterers on hold, they still want to know how
many chickens and how many tunas they need to have on
hand!" Nodoka yelled, she sounded entirely serene,
altogether much to calm for a woman who was throwing
together the last few threads of a wedding that was to
occur in exactly eight days.
"Akane! Oh, Akane! Stop running around in that!" Kasumi
called helplessly, watching her baby sister spring around
the house in her insanely expensive wedding kimono, arms
flailing and her eyes flaming with panic.
"How am I supposed to stop? People keep telling me to go
to different parts of this house!" Akane yelled in
frustration.
How did she know that a wedding was so much trouble? The
last one she'd been involved intimately in all they'd
needed to do was hire a priest and try to avoid the
insanity that trailed her and her fianc�.
While they'd been able to get a hold of someone to perform
the ceremony, they hadn't succeeded with their second deed.
But even that didn't seem so bad in comparison to what
plagued her now, now it was beyond words.
There was utter chaos at the Tendo Dojo.
There were decorations half-hung, lighting fixtures
partially installed and hanging onto ceilings by a cord or
two, and sometimes, they fell.
On top of people.
The seventy-five chairs and thirty-five tables they'd
rented had arrived, the only problem was that there was too
much stuff in the dojo (women throwing things, bridesmaids
with their sanity on hiatus, etc.) to fit them all in, so
they sat out on the lawn. Near twenty-seven yellow rose
corsages were lying around the kitchen counter, and much to
Kasumi's chagrin, she was forced to cook around them, being
forbidden to touch them at all.
It was actually a comical sight.
Saotome Nodoka, in her eternal and inexplicable calm sat in
between a pile of ribbons and fourteen boxes of tealight
candles, a phone in her lap and a phonebook balanced
precariously on a paper lantern, one of many that would
have been hung up if people had remembered the Tendo dojo
didn't afford them trees to hang string from, and therefore
no string on which to hang the lanterns.
Kasumi was on her knees in the middle of the pile of
ribbons with a pair of scissors, tirelessly curling them
one by one by one, and then tying them to the small, pale
yellow gift bags that they were handing out to the guests.
Her hair was sticking up in every direction and her eyes
her glazed over from the lack of sleep.
Yuka and Sayuri, Akane's two bridesmaids, were standing in
their dresses, being hissed at by the tailor who was
desperately trying to hem the skirts even as the two of
them tried to run and capture the raging demon that was
their friend.
Dr. Tofu was ensconced in the thirty yards of white banner-
cloth that was supposed to be tied up and tucked into
pretty, flower-shaped bunches at the corners of the dojo.
And try as he might, he couldn't seem to untangle himself.
Nabiki was driving in the day after the next, having been
detained at work because of a recent stock slump,
apologizing profusely at about not being there for her
sister.
Tendo Soun had been sitting quietly in his room, offering a
smile to whomever felt the courage to venture into his
domain.
Genma had declined to go to the ceremony, citing that he
had a 'frail constitution,' and felt terribly ill, not well
enough to celebrate Akane's marriage.
"Well, at least it's a winter wedding, we don't have to
worry about people being allergic to flowers and stuff,"
Yuka murmured helplessly, throwing up her hands in disgust,
finally surrendering herself to the dressmakers threats.
Sayuri threw an unhappy expression towards her friend and
leaned over, whispering, "Didn't Mrs. Saotome go insane at
the florist's?" Both of them turned towards each other and
winced in tandem.
"KAMI-SAMA!" someone cried, "No one ordered a cake?"
And when it seemed like nothing more could go wrong, there
came a dreadful noise from the front doors:
"HEY! ANYONE HOME? I'VE GOT AN UNCONSCIOUS MAN WITH A BIG
CAB BILL HERE!"
^*^*^
There is an inherent difference between a woman, and a
woman with child.
A woman possesses curves; a pregnant woman is round. Her
breasts grow larger, fuller, and her entire shape changes
to mimic that of the Earth itself, whole and full and
bursting with life.
A woman can grow emotional; a pregnant woman is a walking
time bomb. Sometimes, she wants to cry, and sometimes, she
wants to laugh, but she can't ever predict her mood swings,
and no one else can, either.
A woman shines; a pregnant woman glows.
And as Soichi watched Kimiko wander into that hospital,
changed into dark blue pants and a gray t-shirt, he sighed
in new appreciation. She'd always been a beautiful woman,
someone who, in his eyes, could be mud-soaked and
bedraggled and still remain radiant.
But now, she was beyond words.
It was the way her cheeks flushed pink when she saw him
staring at her, the way she lifted her palm to try and hide
the redness, and how she grinned shyly at him . . .
It didn't matter - none of it did. Not their past, not
what happened in their future. It didn't matter what the
fathers would try to do, it didn't matter if Nabiki tried
to drag them back to their old lives. It didn't matter if
Akane herself walked into that room and started screaming
at the top of her lungs.
Because . . . because . . .
Even after all those years, after all their tears, after
every time he'd broken her heart and she'd broken his -
they still had this.
Because love is not a certain, constant companion in a
relationship, it is a momentary gift, one you have to fight
to keep, a feeling that everyone yearns for, but not anyone
can have. Because she'd fought him, long and hard and
brutally for the right to love him, and he'd fought himself
for years, learning to let himself love her back.
Because they had wanted it so badly.
Because when everything else fell apart, it was all they
had . . .
So when she reached him, the blushing smile still on her
face, he kissed her, long and hard before everyone in the
Intensive Care Unit, not caring what those who watched them
thought.
Because it was love, pure and simple.
Purely beautiful, simply indescribable.
And holding her still in his arms, Soichi felt a sort of
freedom that he had never truly known before, a
weightlessness that filled him with joy. As he looked into
Kimiko's happily confused blue eyes, he smiled again.
"Everything's going to be fine, I promise," he whispered.
She believed him, because Saotome Ranma had never broken a
promise before.
And neither had Fujikara Soichi.
He'd promised to take care of her, when it seemed that
everything was going wrong, he'd made it right, somehow.
She trusted him to do it again.
Just as she would for him.
Time and again, over and over, without fear or hesitation,
he would walk through fire for her, and she would do the
same.
Because he had made her his very first promise thirteen
years ago, and he'd kept it to that day.
^*^*^
Nerima
13 years 4 months previous
She refused to cry anymore; she'd cried for too long
already. Her eyes were red and swollen from her tears, and
her cheeks were cold white from her misery.
She didn't move, she just lay there on her bed, curled up
in a little ball, her cheek pressed against Ranma's thigh,
and her hair fanning out over his stomach, her fingers
tightly wound in between his; as if to break contact was to
die.
It had been three days.
Three days since someone had posted those papers all over
the school. Two days since Ranma had rampaged through the
school, shredding every sheet posted or possessed by
anyone, telling everyone in no uncertain terms exactly what
kind of death would befall them if they chose to ever bring
it up again. One day since he'd snuck in through her
bedroom window.
One day since she'd started clinging to him, unwilling to
stop crying, and then, unwilling to start.
"Yuki-chan," he started softly, his free hand stroking her
hair delicately, "Yuki, please, cry, scream, yell," his
voice gave out for a moment, "anything but this."
She was silent still, but her watery gray eyes turned
upwards to meet his own briefly. All he could see in them
was her humiliation, how broken she was, her hopelessness.
Taking a deep breath, he tried a different tactic, one that
his father had once inadvertently stumbled upon shortly
after his Neko-ken training. Saotome Genma may have been a
dishonorable cur, but he was a dishonorable cur who loved
his son very deeply.
"Do you want to hear a story, Yuki-chan?" Ranma started,
his voice low and soothing.
There was silence, but then again, he hadn't really
expected a reply.
"Once upon a time, there was a very unhappy prince. Oh,
sure, he was incredibly handsome and perfect in every way,
including his martial arts prowess," he paused, quickly
formulating more in his mind as he still ran his fingers
through her scarlet tresses. "But he was unhappy, his
heart hurt."
'Kami-sama,' he thought, 'please, let this work; I can't
bear to see her like this. This isn't Yuki - this is, I
don't know what this is.'
She was looking at him now, eyes opened wide, still numb,
still saddened, still helpless.
"Ever since he'd been a very young child, he'd never really
had a friend. He'd met someone he'd liked very much a long
time ago, but it had not turned out like a friendship
should."
Ranma stopped, biting his lip, eyes still focused on Yuki's
bland expression, hoping against all hope and reason that
this would work. That a stupid, childish fairy-tale would
help her in a way that no amount of time could.
'If only I could get a hold of some magic, Yuki, I'd go
back and I'd fix everything, I'd make it so that no one
ever hurt you, so that no one could ever hurt you,' his
mind whispered.
"So when he was old enough to get married, his father
started introducing him to many lovely girls that he'd been
engaged to, each one prettier than the last."
She shifted a little in his lap, so that his face was now
directly in her line of sight.
'Your eyes are so sad,' he mourned silently, 'you're just a
child, Yuki-chan, no child's eyes ought to be that sad.'
"But while he * liked * several of the girls, he didn't
really love any of them-"
"Why not?" she interrupted, her voice so soft that it was
barely audible. Her eyes glimmered briefly, and Ranma
steeled himself against a wave of rage and sorrow, angry
that someone had shattered her strength like this, grieved
because he could not change her past.
"Well," he started slowly, moving his hand away from her
hair and cupping her pallid cheek, "because all the girls
were very nice, but he didn't really know any of them. He
couldn't very well love a girl that he didn't really know.
Besides," he added, "love is more than just familiarity, he
just didn't feel that way about any of the girls. Not even
the one that he liked very, very much."
She stared at him, a hint of blue returning to her irises,
and Ranma unconsciously crossed his fingers.
"I thought the prince * did * feel that way about the girl
he liked very, very much," she whispered, a desperate hush
in her tone.
He swallowed hard, "He did, a long time ago, he did. Back
when things were better between the two of them, back when
he still thought she trusted him, he did love the girl, a
lot," he breathed the last part quietly, his fingers
absently brushing Yuki's cheek.
"Oh," she whispered, and pausing, she asked, "what about
that friend the prince had always wanted?"
He smiled kindly at her; staring into her eyes he touched
her face, tracing the line of her jaw with such
familiarity, such reverence.
'I can't change the past,' he thought slowly, 'but I can
fix the present, I can make sure that no one hurts you in
the future. I can help you, Yuki, just like you helped
me.'
"When the prince thought that his heart couldn't hurt any
more, when he thought there wasn't any hope that he'd ever
love anyone, he met a girl," his voice echoed off the walls
of her room loudly, bouncing back and flooding his own ears
with sound.
"What was she like?" Yuki asked softly, a faded azure
seeping into her eyes.
He grinned, "Well, she was very smart, and very quick, and
she never made fun of the prince about the things that
everyone made fun of him about. She always listened to
him, and she always trusted him."
'I can teach you how to smile again, just like you taught
me how, slowly. The color of your eyes are made for
smiling,' he wondered.
She rolled her eyes, but just a little. "I meant what she
looked like." He grinned, and leaning back into her
pillows, he murmured:
"Well, she had this soft red hair, and she let it grow long
until it touched her shoulders," he glanced down to her
face briefly, just long enough to see the faintest hint of
a smile on her lips. "And well, she always had this
glitter in her eye, like she was planning something great,
and you'd just have to sit still and bite your nails until
it happened, as those something greats invariably did when
she was around."
Yuki raised an eyebrow, "She sounds wonderful."
"She * was * wonderful," he confirmed, Ranma continued with
his story, "Anyway, the prince found himself talking to her
more and more often, and telling her things that he'd never
told anyone before. Like the story of his mother."
Yuki winced, painfully, and tangling her fingers between
his with renewed passion, she pressed herself a little
closer to him.
"And the story about all the little cats."
She growled, low and deep and angry.
"And about how he thought he loved a girl, or at least, had
at some point or another."
She just stared at him, an indescribable expression on her
face, a cross between mourning, hope, and subdued
happiness. There were no words for how her eyes bored into
his soul at that moment.
Ranma cleared his throat, and starting once again the slow,
comforting work of stroking her hair, he continued, "And
slowly, the prince found himself discovering that he needed
this girl, this friend, more than he had ever needed anyone
in his entire life," a soft, shy smile bloomed on her pale
face.
Yuki's eyes opened wide, "Did he promise to take care of
her? To keep her safe?"
For just the barest moment, he felt a sob rise in his
throat as he realized what she was begging for, what she
needed from him.
'A promise, oh God, a promise.' How many times had
promises gotten him into trouble? How many vows had his
father made? Only to escape them and dump them onto his
son? How many years of childhood had been destroyed
because of unwise promises?
But the way she'd said it, how her voice had shaken as
she'd whispered the word . . . It would not be a promise he
would regret.
"Yes, he promised," he said, comforted by the flood of
spark that returned to her eyes, "Because she was part of
him by then, like a puzzle-piece that filled the empty
place in his soul, like she belonged," he finished, his
voice barely a whisper.
Her eyes were trained on his now, an unreadable gray color,
sad and serious and laughing all at the same time, that
confusing mix of emotions that had painted her features had
receded to her eyes, and they continued to watch him.
To drink him in.
"And-" Ranma choked out, mesmerized by her, trapped by
their closeness, intoxicated by the way her skin felt
pressed against him, how her hair was silky in his hands.
'Oh, Kami-sama,' he thought darkly in sudden shock, 'I want
her, God, I want her.'
The sudden need to be away from her, the need to run as far
away as possible from that endless expanse of blue eyes and
soft skin before he did something he * wouldn't * regret
overwhelmed him. He abruptly rolled off the bed, letting
Yuki's head fall to her pillow with a thud. He stood
there, bent over, hands on his knees, panting hard, eyes
averted from her face as he tried to regain his self-
control.
His skin was alive, it screamed and it called and it craved
for more of her against itself.
'But,' his mind argued loudly, 'she's hurt! She's sad!
She's as close to fucking broken as you can get! Kami-
sama, how the hell can you be thinking with your Goddamned
dick when she's in this state?'
"Shit," he whispered aloud, eyes rising to meet Yuki's
surprised expression, "shit, I've gotta go, Yuki-ch - Yuki,
I've gotta go, now."
And he made a lunge for her window, intent on getting out
of that room, removing the temptation.
But her voice stopped him.
"WAIT!" she yelled, a desperate tone coloring the word. He
turned back, gasping for breath and trying to force the raw
heat in his body down. She was perched on the edge of her
bed, legs uncrossed and flailed quickly across the edge,
the shirt of her dark red pajamas bunching upwards to
reveal a band of pale, cream-colored skin, flawless to the
eye.
"What is it, Yuki?" he asked slowly, tearing his eyes away
from her, begging himself to just leave and take a cold
shower.
"Ranma-kun," she started, her voice soft but firm, "how
does the story end?"
His eyes opened wide at the question, and he whipped back
around momentarily to see her standing now, one hand
tucking a hapless strand of red hair behind an ear, and the
other reached out, her fingertips almost touching his arm.
And biting her lip, she stretched just a little bit more,
pressing the pads of her fingers to his flesh, wrapping
them round, and holding him fast, anchoring him to her.
Until he told her how the story ended.
The electric flame that started where her skin touched his
refused to be doused, and it spread with savage speed
through him, making him dizzy from the heat of that small,
insignificant contact.
He opened his mouth, and finally, in a strangled tone of
voice, he whispered:
"It hasn't, not yet."
And leaped from her window into the comforting cold of the
night, safe from the wanting that burned in his soul.
^*^*^
And he hugged her tightly, standing there under the
fluorescent lights of the hospital, amidst their fearful
surroundings, she felt safe in the haven of his arms.
Because he * was * right.
The story hadn't ended.
Not yet.
^*^*^
All feedback is appreciated. =)
-Linda
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desaix@sysnet.net
Sir Desaix, member # 116 of the Knights of the True Fiancee
anime fanfics available at
http://www.geocities.com/zednik.geo/fanfics.htm
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