Reprisal
By katz
“A deep wound, doctor,” said Cologne as she bound Tofu’s hand with
bandages. He clenched his teeth when she tied off the wrappings with a
sharp tug. He tried to reply that it wasn’t as bad as it looked, but she
placed both hands on the sides of his face and turned it to examine for any
more wounds. She grunted when she was satisfied he was hurt nowhere
else. “The bandage and the medicine will have to be replaced tomorrow,”
she said, gathering up the various medical apparatus that was strewn over the
table. She placed them into a small bag and looked up at him before
taking it back into the storage room. “I’m sure Mr. Watanabe won’t mind
if you stay here until then, but I will want to know what happened to you out
there.”
Tofu stared at his wounded hand and nodded, though he was sure she knew exactly
what had happened. He supposed it was coincidence that she would be
looking after his old friend’s clinic while he taking a vacation in
Okinawa. A vacation he decided to take only three days previous.
For his health. Right.
He felt the urge to flex his hand experimentally, just to see if
he could, but he knew it was foolish to do so. For one who made his
living with his hands, putting even one through unnecessary danger was enough
to end his brief career as a doctor. If he even had the right to the
title when he was done.
If it is given to me to save a life, all thanks…But it may also be in my
power to take a life…I must not play at God…
His oath. While he may not be recognized as having the right to the oath
by others, he considered it his. It was a good oath and he earned the
right to it. At least he thought he did, until recently. What was
the use of a doctor who cast aside his solemn promise never to harm another, no
matter the circumstance?
I’m human dammit, not a saint. It was the same argument
everyday. How could a healer knowingly kill and have the right to still
consider himself a healer? But then he would remember what awaited him
when he arrived at the Amazon village. Hollow eyed young warriors barely
able to hold up their weapons in their grief over the deaths of their
elders. The bloody, unrecognizable remains of what might have been
Lo-Hsin. His old teacher Po-Hsin, whom he had not seen since he first
became a healer, dead, holes in her hands and feet where the nails had gone
through and her midsection cut open so her insides spilled out like some
grotesque piñata. His rage had not cooled since that day, nor
through the better part of the year he spent tracking down the monster that had
done it. And always his trail was marked by corpses.
How could they allow him to do this? His thoughts always came to
this question. He knew it was a shallow way of relieving his guilt, but
it was still justified in a way. Why would they allow someone Agoge-trained
to do something like this? He might be a renegade, but that didn’t
make sense. He’s young, far too young to have completed his training;
they would have brought him down easily a long time ago if he were a renegade,
unless he was the next Yeosol. And he definitely was not that. If
the boy was even half as dangerous as that maniac, their encounter this would
have ended very differently. So the only explanation would be that either
they are staying out of the boy’s way, or worse, supporting him. If it
was the latter, then Tofu wouldn’t have to worry about his future career as a
doctor if he killed the boy.
He didn’t realize he was clenching his fists together until he heard the steady
drip of blood from his bound hand. He hissed in pain and eased it open
until he could see stained bandages. His newly opened wound throbbed.
I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure.
He smiled grimly. There was no cure for the death the boy spread.
But it could be prevented. He could prevent it. One life for
many. He wouldn’t play at God, he wasn’t as arrogant as that. But
he would carry out his duty as a doctor, and prevent the disease the boy
spread. After all, he had an oath to uphold.
***
Mousse was still unconscious when they arrived at Nabiki’s house. She had
hoped he would have come to by now. It was late enough that everyone
should be asleep so there was little chance of any embarrassing and potentially
lethal moments, but she didn’t feel like dragging him all the way inside from
the street. So far he didn’t like he was breathing at all. At that
thought, her eyes widened in alarm and she quickly put her hand just beneath
his nose. She sighed in relief when she felt his breath going in and out
in a weak but regular rhythm.
She flopped back against the seat and shot his unconscious figure a venomous
glance. Idiot, she thought. You should have
listened to me. Then you wouldn’t be in this situation and me with
you.
The car slowed and came to a stop. “Here we are ma’am,” announced the
chauffeur. She could hear the slight fear in his voice, but it was much
less than what it had been when Mousse convinced him to give them a ride.
It even sounded a little defiant. He’s remembering he’s a man.
Her lips twisted in annoyance. He could try something stupid.
She looked out the window at the closed gate to her house and cursed.
She leaned over the seat until she was speaking directly in the ear of the
driver. “Wait here for me,” she ordered in her sternest, most
business-like voice she could muster. “Don’t try to drive off or do
anything stupid. If I’m not here when he wakes up…” She let the
threat hang in the air for a moment and then stepped out of the car.
She ran up to the gate that led into the main yard and unlocked it with the
spare she always carried with her. She opened it a crack and cursed again
at what she saw. The kitchen light was on. She stole a backward
glance at the limo and opened the gate just wide enough to slip through.
She walked as casually as she could up the stone path leading to the porch,
thinking of ways she could solve both herself and Mousse’s problem with their
skins intact.
“Nabiki?”
She nearly jumped at the voice that came out of the
darkness. “Don’t scare me like that Akane!” she cried, breathing hard to
get her thundering heartbeat under control. “What are you doing out here
in the dark?”
Akane stepped out of the shadows from the porch she was sitting
on, still dressed in the clothes she had been wearing all day. She crossed
her arms under her breasts and shrugged. “Just needed some air,” she said
distantly.
Nabiki’s expression softened at seeing her younger sister.
She looked pale and tired, and the dark rings under her eyes stood out even in
the weak light of the moon. She hadn’t gotten any sleep at all since
Ranma was brought back, but it was the worry that was gnawing at her.
“You should get some sleep, Akane,” she said with genuine concern. She
tried smiling reassuringly. “Ranma will be alright.”
Akane yawned and nodded wearily. “So what are you doing here
this late at night?” she asked in that same distant tone. She looked up
and down the dress Nabiki was wearing and smiled slyly. “Meeting with a
new beau?”
Nabiki laughed nervously. “Well, sort of, but I-“
The sound of squealing tires filled the night air suddenly,
cutting off her response and making her stomach feel like it dropped to her
feet. He wouldn’t…
“Bosozoku? Here?” Akane asked the air, since
Nabiki was already running back toward the gate.
Nabiki’s first reaction when she saw Mousse unconscious on the
sidewalk where the chauffeur had dumped him was to make sure he wasn’t
seriously hurt, but she knew better than to let her emotions run away with
her. So instead she turned and caught Akane just as she was coming up to
the gate.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her weariness forgotten, straining to
look over her sister’s shoulder.
“Nothing, nothing at all,” Nabiki said in false cheeriness, trying
to position herself between her sister and Mousse. But when she heard her
gasp she knew she had failed. So instead she tried to prepare her for the
coming shock. “Akane, it’s not what you think…”
Akane shouldered past her easily and ran to where he lay and
turned him over to face her. “Sir, are you-?” Nabiki sighed in
resignation. Too late. She expected Akane to overreact
somehow. Maybe scream and punt him into the skyline, or call for everyone
in the house to wake up. Instead she slowly turned her head around to
look up at her sister with an expression of sorrow.
“Oh, Nabiki.”
***
“What a night, what a night.” Happosai slurred to
himself as he stumbled his way through the streets of Nerima. It wasn’t
everyday that he got to party like this and let off some steam. Spirits
above knew he needed it. Not just anyone could shoulder the great burden
of keeping the name of the school of Anything Goes alive. And do it
without help, nonetheless. Two of his disciples were inept cowards who
couldn’t fight their way out of paying a restaurant bill. And while Akane
was a pretty young thing, she was far too hardheaded to teach anything.
The only one who showed any promise out of the whole lot was Ranma, and because
of that he took extra care to practice with the boy as much as possible.
And how does the impudent wretch repay his master’s kindness and patient
training? He deems him a pervert and says so out loud to his face at
every opportunity!
“It’s enough to make an old man cry,” he sobbed to himself,
scrubbing at his eyes with a pair of silk panties he pulled from his sack.
The owner of that particular undergarment only chased him for a block
before giving up. Not a lot of fun, but very generous on her part.
The women in Okinawa were so much more accommodating than the ones on the mainland.
It must be the tropical weather. He would have to go back someday.
He tilted the jug of sake he carried with an elbow to let
the last of the fiery liquid wash down his throat. He frowned when none
came and shook the jug around some and peered into it, as if some might have
been hiding from him. A ridiculous notion to some unlearned people, but
he knew not to put anything past it. Sake was a
crafty drink.
He tossed the jug aside and stood as tall as he could without
falling over backward. Now was not the time to contemplate the sly nature
of alcohol, for the month was still young and so was he. There was only
one thing to do at this time of night, drunk, with no good liquor stores open,
and a sack full of silky darlings strapped to his back. Sleep it off at Soun’s.
And maybe fondle Ranma. Yeah.
But actually finding the dojo proved to be more of a challenge
than he thought it would. He found himself going in the wrong the
direction twice and around in a circle once. He tried asking the tall,
thin men with lights on their heads directions but they stubbornly refused to
acknowledge his existence even after he knocked a couple of them down.
And it didn’t look like they were going anywhere, lined up along the street
like that. Uppity bastards.
But he did find the house eventually, and with the lights
on. “They left a light on for me,” he said to himself in wonder. A
strange feeling welled up inside him. There was a moment of sheer panic
for him at the thought that the alien emotion might be something akin to
gratitude. So he sighed in relief when he realized that it was actually
heartburn from the spicy fish sausage the restaurant owner had generously
provided him with earlier that day. Thank goodness.
He decided not to go in through the kitchen. Though they may
be waiting for him, maybe even worried for him, he knew that the moment they
saw how utterly wasted he was, they’d lose all semblance of compassion and move
in for the kill. They were weak, but they were opportunists, every one of
them, and he knew they’d try to bury him somewhere for another ten years.
Well, not tonight, no sir I’m have too much fun, he thought, and pulled
down his lower eyelid with his free hand and stuck his tongue out in the
general direction of the kitchen.
He jumped onto the eaves on the second floor and with a little
work, opened the window to one of the rooms. He jumped in, and after a
moment of bleary-eyed examination he saw that he was in Nabiki’s room.
What he didn’t see was the boy lying unconscious on the floor. Until he
saw that he was standing on his chest.
Happosai froze, expecting the boy to awaken immediately. But
the boy didn’t even react. His breathing barely changed even with the
added weight. So Happosai sat down, legs crossed under him, to ponder the
boy’s presence and to wait for the room to stop spinning.
He set his bag behind him on the boy’s legs and scratched his bald
head. The first thought that came to mind was suitably lecherous.
Here was a suitor for Nabiki that was a bit more successful than the
rest. Successful enough that he’d be stripped to the waist and passed out
in her room after hours. The thought made him grin, but unless Nabiki had
some truly exotic hobbies, that still left the question of why he was wearing
all those bandages and looked like he was beaten like an unruly
stepchild. Then perhaps Ranma had a go at him. But that didn’t make
sense either. It wasn’t Ranma’s style to beat an opponent half to death
unless it was absolutely necessary. Or to use poison which, judging from the
boy’s aura, was a very potent one. And it was an interesting aura,
too. It was very weak now, but he could see that it would be incredibly
powerful once he got his strength back. And the patterns the chi made as
it flowed through his body were truly rare. So rare he had seen patterns
like those only once. In one man.
An image cut through the drunken haze in his head. A man, wreathed in
swirling chi energies which shone with a light that rivaled that of the
sun. Heat radiated from the man like a bonfire, so much so that getting
closer than ten paces became unbearable. But the man didn’t seem to feel
any of it, and indeed he seemed to be smiling in the knowledge of his own
power. At that moment he could have been a god or a devil.
Happosai didn’t realize he was backing away from the boy until his back hit the
far wall. His stomach was roiling, and suddenly all the sake he
drank over the past couple of days turned sour. He groaned, but it wasn’t
because of a sour stomach. The boy on the floor wasn’t the man-god, but
someone connected with him in some way. A student perhaps; intense
training can alter chi patterns in a body to resemble someone else’s.
Good spirits forbid the boy is his son.
He took a deep breath and forced himself away from the wall until he was by the
boy’s side. He knelt and puzzled over the situation. He didn’t
bother thinking about why the boy was here or how. Those questions would
answer themselves in time. The boy was here, and his master may not be
far behind. He had only one thought: How do I keep my school
alive?
***
“What’s going on, Nabiki?” Akane demanded bluntly.
Nabiki winced at the tone of the question. It meant Akane
wanted the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. No
discussion. And Nabiki was too tired to mince words. Too much had
happened for her to even think straight.
She stared into her tea for a while before beginning. She
told her sister everything; the phone call, the dinner, the hotel, and
Tofu. When she stopped she gulped down her drink in one draught.
She only rarely had to confess like that. It always made her feel
vulnerable.
There was quiet at the other end of the table for a moment.
“You went on a date with him?” Nabiki winced again. This time there
was accusation tinged with incredulity. “He almost kills Ranma and you go
on a date with him? He could have hurt you!”
“He wouldn’t have hurt me,” Nabiki retorted. She hated the
defensive tone of her voice. “And it wasn’t a real date. Not
really. We were just there to get information out of the other.”
“Uh-huh,”
said Akane skeptically. “And what did you find out?”
Nabiki sighed. “Not a lot. He’s clever, and he tried
to hide as much as possible. I think he might be an Amazon himself, but
he also says the Amazons killed his family.” She frowned. “I don’t
know why they let him live, but I think they did something to him.”
“Those scars,” Akane said softly.
Nabiki bit her lip at the memory. They had carried him
upstairs, Nabiki carrying his feet with Akane on the other end, to Nabiki’s
room to let him sleep when she accidentally dropped him. There was a
moment of breathless terror while they waited for someone to wake up. But
no one did and they hurriedly picked him up and placed him on the floor inside
her room. When they took off his shirt to check if any of his wounds
reopened, they saw the scars. They were everywhere, criss-crossed lines
of white scar tissue. It was as if someone had tried to decorate his body
with a whip.
“Yeah,” Nabiki replied.
“So what about-,” Akane began, but stopped mid-sentence. She
looked up. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Nabiki asked, but stood up, nervous. Akane was
looking up where her room was. The last thing she needed was someone
finding Mousse here.
No more words were exchanged and the two hurried as quietly as
they could up the stairs. When they reached the second floor, they slowed
down and crept along the wall until they reached the door to Nabiki’s
room. The door was still closed, much to Nabiki’s relief. They
waited for a moment, listening for the slightest sound from inside the
room. But all they heard was deafening silence.
She let out her breath in a huff and smiled shakily at her younger
sister. Akane smiled back and opened the door. Nabiki closed the
door behind them while Akane turned on the lights. For a moment Nabiki
thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned her
head she saw nothing. The window was open, which made the curtains
flutter. The only thing in the room out of the ordinary was an
unconscious boy laid out in the middle.
What am I going to do with you? She thought at him. Akane’s hand on her arm brought
her out of her thoughts.
“I guess we’ll have to leave him here until we can think of
something,” she said. She looked at Mousse lying on the floor and at her
pointedly. “I’m going to bed now, Nabiki. And I don’t think Dad and
Mr. Saotome would want to be disturbed at this time of night. But in the
morning….”
“He’ll be gone by then, I promise,” Nabiki replied, grateful for
her sister’s confidence. But she wished she felt as sure as she
sounded. She pulled Akane in for a hug. “Thanks.”
Akane squeezed her back. “Don’t get involved with him,
Nabiki. He’s dangerous.” And she left.
Nabiki stood at the doorway for a moment longer until she heard
Akane’s door close and then shut her own. She leaned back against it and
sighed. At least it wasn’t a boring night.
She quickly and as quietly as she could, crept into the bathroom,
gave herself a quick wash, and then crept back. She pulled her clothes
off, keeping an eye on Mousse in case he should wake up at that inopportune
moment, but his eyes remained closed. She quickly pulled her pajamas on
and went to turn out the light. She hesitated for a moment and then
pulled an extra blanket and a pillow out of her closet. She draped the
blanket over him and placed the pillow under his head. She stood up,
satisfied with her work, and then flipped the switch.
She lay awake in the dark, unable to sleep. The only sound
in the room was Mousse’s shallow breathing. She caught herself staring at
his darkened form, so she turned over on her other side so she faced the
wall. It didn’t help.
He’s going to panic when he wakes up. He won’t recognize
where he is and he’s going to panic.
Finally, with a huff, she threw her legs over the bed and stood
up. She picked up her blanket and her pillow and walked the two steps to
where Mousse lay. She threw the pillow down and lay down beside him,
draping the blanket over them both.
She pushed herself up on an elbow so she was looking down on
him. “I hope you’re happy,” she said softly and settled down facing
him. It wasn’t so bad, she told herself. As long as he was comatose
and kept under that blanket, he really couldn’t do anything unseemly. She
reached out an arm and settled it over his chest. She could feel his
heartbeat, slow and faint. Don’t get involved with him,
he’s dangerous. I know.
…little boy…our little boy…
Mousse awoke, screaming. At least, he would have had not his throat
suddenly clamped shut. So instead of a scream, it came out stillborn in
the form of a high rasp. He tried to move, but could only clench and
unclench his hands impotently. His open eyes saw only darkness. His heart
hammered so hard against the wall of his chest that it felt as though his
entire body was shaking. Paralyzed, suffocating, unseeing; it was much as
he remembered. But slowly, agonizingly slowly, he took back
control. His heart slowed and the darkness that clouded his eyes faded
away. His forced his painfully tensed muscles to unlock and relax.
He lay where he was, gulping in mouthfuls of air, exhausted from the struggle
with his own body.
He took stock of his surroundings. He was in a room with a
ceiling he didn’t recognize. He could hear birds outside. Morning
then, or close enough. Something smelled faintly of perfume. There
were two blankets lying over him. He never liked blankets. They
were confining. There was movement out of the corner of his eye and
something warm settled on his neck.
His first thought was to pull out a knife and do something
horrible with it. When nothing appeared, he tightened his hand into a
fist and turned his head to look at what had touched him. What he saw was
Nabiki blinking at him sleepily. She yawned and stretched under the
covers. She smiled slightly at him. “Good morning.”
Mousse stared. There was a moment of incomprehension,
followed by a moment of sheer panic. He sat bolt upright and was pulled
down again hard when Nabiki grabbed a handful of hair and yanked. She
turned his face toward her and sidled closer to him until their noses were
almost touching.
She put a finger to her lips. “Shh. They’re asleep.”
He nodded dumbly. He licked his lips. She smelled like
flowers. “Where-?”
As if reading his mind, she whispered, “You’re in my room.”
She grinned. “Don’t worry. I didn’t take advantage of you while you
were out.”
“Well now, isn’t this cute?”
The two of them started at the voice. Nabiki immediately
backed away and pulled the covers up while Mousse was out, facing the source of
the voice. A ridiculously small, wizened old man was kneeling in front of
the door, looking at them with a raised eyebrow.
Not another one. Mousse
thought through the head rush he got from rising too quickly. He felt
every single wound he took the night before throbbing. Too
soon. It’s too soon. I can’t fight like this, not with her here.
And then he bared his teeth in a fierce grin. What
foolishness. This is the way it has always been. Outmatched and
unready, sacrificing a piece of himself just so he would be able to survive
till the next fight. There wasn’t going to be much of him left when it
all ends. He would have been afraid, if he ever cared to think that far
ahead.
The old man seemed unconcerned at Mousse’s expression.
Instead he looked at Nabiki. “So are you going to tell you friend to calm
down, or do I make him?”
“Mousse, wait-”
He didn’t hear. The old man was dangerous. He could
feel it in the way his heartbeat quickened when he saw him. He was just
like the Elders. He had to die. He tensed. Quickly.
He felt a hand on his leg as he was ready to lunge. He looked
down and saw Nabiki, who recoiled slightly at the look on his face. “It’s
alright Mousse,” she said, after moving a bit away from him. “He won’t
hurt you.”
He relaxed slightly. She didn’t have any reason to lie to
him. He turned back to the old man, and something dark flew at his
face. He sidestepped and swiped with a stiffened hand
instinctively. The dark thing caught on the side of his hand and hung
there limply. It was the shirt he stole from the paramedic.
“Jumpy, are we?” asked the old man cynically. He stood
up. “Put that on and follow me.”
Mousse pulled the shirt over his head, and used the time it took
to examine his surroundings again. Her room was surprisingly
minimalist. He had the impression a girl like her with so much money on
her hands would have a room full of things. Then he saw the stereo on the
dresser, a high quality brand, and the dress she wore last night hung
carelessly over a chair, and the tiny bottle of expensive perfume on the
desk. It wasn’t that she was tight with her money. She simply knew
what she wanted. And from what he saw of her actions the past night, he
wondered if she also wanted him.
“You stay here,” said the old man to Nabiki, who was getting
up. “We’ll talk later.”
She paused, unsure, when Mousse looked at her and shook his
head. She let her breath out in a huff and sat back down. He could
feel her gaze on his back as he pulled on his shoes. He looked back as he
was leaving and saw that she was still looking at him. She raised her
hand slightly and he raised his in return before shutting the door.
The old man moved with surprising spryness. Or perhaps not
so surprising, considering who he was. “Why are you helping me?” asked
Mousse.
“You talk too much lad,” he answered in a whisper Mousse could barely
hear. He turned suddenly and stared hard at him. Even if the old
man barely came up past his knee, Mousse had the feeling he was facing a
giant. He clenched his teeth. It was just like with the
Elders. “Just play along with me and you might get out of here
alive. I trust Yeosol trained well enough to follow simple instructions?”
Mousse blinked in surprise, and then almost barked out a harsh
laugh. So that was it. The old man was afraid of Yeosol. He
couldn’t blame the old man; he himself was terrified of his mentor. But
the old man was severely overestimating his teacher’s capacity to feel anything
like love or concern for a pupil. In all the years he spent under
Yeosol’s wing, the only emotions he could identify in his old teacher were
contemptuous amusement and occasional lust.
Mousse kept his mouth shut and struggled to keep his expression
under control. The old man’s fear worked to his advantage, and he
suspected it was the only thing keeping him alive at the moment. He
nodded at the old man once, who looked at him one last time before moving down
the hall.
“After you,” said the old man when they came to the stairs.
Mousse did as he was told and found himself facing two men coming
up the stairs. He tensed as both of them, wearing karate gi and carrying
long staves, looked up at him simultaneously. Their mouths dropped in
surprise, but they quickly recovered and pulled their staves up in a fighting
stance. Thoughts of betrayal ran through his mind and he prepared to
throw himself at them, when the old man appeared beside him.
“Soun! Genma!” he whispered harshly. “What are you
doing?”
The two men started. “Master?” said the heavyset one.
He lowered his staff and scratched his bald head under the bandana.
“What’s going on?”
“Never mind that, Genma,” snapped the old man. He turned to
the other man, who looked to be the physical opposite of Genma, slender with
long hair and a moustache. “It’s your house, Soun. Show our guest
some hospitality.”
The two men responded with a quick, if confused affirmative, and
hurried in the opposite direction. “Come on lad,” said the old man.
“It’s time you met some of my more worthless students.”
***
Nabiki counted out one minute before leaving her room.
Happosai didn’t honestly believe she’d stay inside, did he? She crept
along slowly, careful to avoid the spot on the floor that creaked, and stopped
at the top of the stairs. Happosai couldn’t have known that her father
and Genma had taken to training in the predawn hours. She hoped that none
of them had met, and she strained her ears to hear sounds of a fight.
There was nothing, but that disturbed her even more.
What would Mousse do if he was attacked? She wondered. The thought of her father and
soon-to-be uncle knocking heads with Mousse and possibly even Happosai wasn’t
very reassuring. It was then that she heard it, a faint exchange of words
followed by laughter.
She paused at the sound, then shrugged. Might as well.
She climbed down the stairs, making her step slightly heavier than
usual, as if she was still half asleep. The sound was coming from the
den. They were sitting at the table, cups in front of all of them, Mousse
beside Happosai, who was gesturing enthusiastically to Genma and her father
across from him.
“-so the boy here jumps in front of me and says to them-” he
stopped when he noticed her. His face tightened in annoyance.
“Nabiki. You’re up rather early.”
“Ah, good morning Nabiki,” said her father. “Say hello to
our guest… ah, I don’t believe I caught your name young man?”
“Kaoru, Mr. Tendo. Takahashi Kaoru,” said Mousse quietly,
looking embarrassed at all the attention. He bowed his head toward
her. “Good morning, Miss Tendo.”
“Our friend Kaoru is a paramedic,” said her father. He
winked conspiratorially. “He saved Happosai from some hoodlums the other
night.”
Genma nodded, and grinned. “Yeah, who knows what would have
happened to Happosai if Kaoru hadn’t have been there. He’s a model young
man if I’ve ever seen one.”
Happosai looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “Yes,
he certainly is,” he muttered. He turned to Nabiki. “Last night I
was confronted by three young men looking to mug a defenseless old man like
me. But Kaoru here came to my rescue, and got somewhat injured. It
was late, and I insisted that he spend the night here.”
“It was the end of my shift,” Mousse said quietly. “I was
very tired. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, Kaoru,” said her father amiably.
Silence settled over the room. It was then she noticed that
they were expecting her to say something. She had to play along.
“You’re kinda young for a paramedic, aren’t you?” she said, and almost clapped
her hands over her mouth. Why did I say that? She
thought. I’m going to blow his cover!
Happosai started coughing violently into his cup, but Mousse only
smiled. “I get that a lot. It’s a part of a new program at East
City Hospital. The idea is that interns ride along with real paras, so
that they can learn something about what it’s like on the street.” He
shrugged. “Some of interns can’t handle the eight hour shifts, but it’s
great PR for the hospital.”
“So you’re a student at one of the university’s medical schools?”
said her father, looking genuinely impressed. “You must be quite
talented.”
He shrugged again. “It isn’t much really. I’m just
doing what I like to do.”
Genma laughed. “Modest as well as upright.”
Her father nodded in agreement. “He certainly is,
Saotome.” He turned to Mousse. “Tell me lad, would you like to stay
for breakfast? My daughter Kasumi should be up and about shortly if
you’re hungry.”
Mousse shook his head. “Thank you sir, but I cannot. I
need to get back to the hospital to fill out some paperwork.”
“Ah, well that’s too bad,” said her father. “Do you have any
way to get back?”
“I thought I’d walk until I got out of Nerima,” replied
Mousse. “My partner told me that for some reason cabs won’t come out
here. I wonder why that is?”
Her father cleared his throat and laughed nervously. “Well,
surely it’s a mystery to us all. Anyway, since you’re leaving, you must
excuse Genma and myself. We must return to our practice. It was
good meeting you, and I hope you will visit us again.” He stood and
turned toward Nabiki. “Nabiki, please show our guest out, will you?”
She shrugged. “Come with me, please,” she said to Mousse.
He nodded, thanked her father for the tea, and silently followed
her to the door. There, she turned suddenly and placed her hands on
either side of his face. He started and tried to pull away, but she kept
in step with him.
“Does it hurt?” she asked, tracing the scar on his cheek with a
thumb.
He shook his head and gently removed her hands from his
face. “You shouldn’t worry about me. I’m used to it.”
“Good,” she said. She balled her hand into a fist and
punched him as hard as she could in the stomach. It was like punching a
brick wall, but she was gratified when it was met by a surprised grunt.
“That’s what you get for putting me through all that last night,”
she told a speechless Mousse. Before he could react, she moved as close
as she could and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. She grinned.
“It was fun though. Once you’ve taken care of your business, give
me a call.” And then she walked away.
Mousse remained standing there for a moment, wondering whether
what had just happened was a good thing or not, when a Happosai reminded him of
his existence by clearing his throat. If he was amused, his face didn’t
show it.
“I can only hope this will be the last time you and I meet, though
I doubt it,” he said. “I can only tell you this, lad. I don’t know
why you’re here, and I don’t want to know. But if you’re going to die, do
it somewhere else. If there’s any scrap of humanity in you, you’ll do
that. There’s no point in allowing innocents to get hurt in a personal
feud.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but he just shook his head
and went back into the den.
On the way out of Nerima, Mousse pondered over what he heard
during his brief stay at the Tendos. Give me a call... There’s
no point in allowing innocents to get hurt… Do you’re dying
somewhere else… He never should have gotten her involved in the first
place. His raging teenage hormones told him differently, but he knew the
old man was right. His hand drifted up to the spot where she had kissed
him, and let it drop with a weary sigh. Events were moving too quickly
for him to control. It was supposed to be so simple; kill the Elder, wipe
out the village, go back and figure out what he was going to do with the rest
of his life. He lifted his face to the early morning sky as if beseeching
some higher force. When did life get so complicated?
***
“What do you think, Saotome?” asked Soun, bringing his staff down hard.
“It’s almost time for breakfast,” replied Genma, parrying the staff with his
own. He shoved against Soun’s body with his staff, forcing him back.
“I meant the boy.” Soun staggered back, on the defensive, and held the
point of his staff forward to check Genma’s forward movement.
Genma looked thoughtful for a moment while knocking Soun’s staff
off-center. “Cold,” he answered. “Very cold.”
Soun nodded. “I thought so, too,” he said. “Do you believe that
story of his? About being a medical student and saving the master and all
that?” He dipped the staff down and stabbed at his feet.
Genma leapt back. “I’m not sure. The way the boy talked, it was
hard to tell. Like I said, cold.”
Soun sighed and set the end of the staff on the ground. “You want to stop
for the morning, Saotome?”
Genma also relaxed out of his fighting stance. “You go ahead,
Tendo. I think I’ll stay out a bit longer.”
“Of course,” he answered. His old friend was taking the near-death of his
son hard. He was too, of course. He already considered the boy a
part of the family, and so did practically everyone else. Ranma and Akane
didn’t want to admit it, but they’d come around sooner or later. But now
so many strange things were happening. An outsider beats Ranma into a
coma. Akane is kidnapped, and then returned on the same day. Dr.
Tofu returns radically different from the way he remembered him. And now
this Kaoru boy comes and saves Happosai from some thugs, as hard as that was to
believe. He paused, an uncomfortable feeling forming in his
stomach. Could they all be connected somehow? He shook his
head. You’re getting paranoid in your old age.
But then he remembered earlier in the morning, when he first saw
the boy. He had never seen such a chilling expression before. For
the split second before Happosai showed up, he was sure the boy was going to
kill him. A chill ran up his spine. Paranoid, certainly. He
was just a boy, and that was that. It was just his imagination running
away with him. No more than that. Surely not.
***
Upstairs, Ranma opened his eyes.
To be continued…