Akane
by Kirinin
Twelve
Blurriness. Where...? Black. Color. Light. Afterimages in the light. Even though she turned her head, the objects bouncing around her stayed where they were for a half moment before following her own movements. Drugs? she wondered. Black. Akane fully woke with a buzzing in her brain like the mother of all hangovers. She still managed to suppress a groan and stop her eyes from instinctively flying open at the rough feel of ropes around her ankles and wrists. She wanted to be more aware of her surroundings before she made a move. Drip-drip. Drip-drip. Water. There was water nearby. Sewer? Spring? Leaky sink? Akane suppressed a sigh. Drip-drip. Drip-drip. Cold. It was freezing, actually. Only the stupid panda would be able to hold out this long without breaking into shivers. Panda? Never mind what Ucchan said! Focus! Akane forced her reluctant brain into action. Water, cold. She sniffed the air: metallic. Wind, off to her right. Strong wind, only from one direction. Tunnel. Air smelled fresh, so not a sewer. A cave? “I can tell you’re awake. The rhythm of your breathing is different.” Akane hesitantly opened her eyes to view her captor. He was a tall, bespectacled man, a little flabby around the edges but looking as though he’d lost a lot of weight very recently. He wore a frightening scowl. Pop... pop. Somebody’s dad. Ranma’s dad. Ranma’s father, from the picture. “You look so different!” she blurted. His expression darkened, hardened. “Losing your only son to murder changes a man.” Akane bit her lip while she stared, suddenly feeling for him despite his menace. “I’m so sorry.” Now his features contorted into rage and he growled at her, rushing her, holding her up by her collar far into the air—and she felt his anger and it was worse than Ryoga’s, ten times worse, and—oh-god-he-thought-she’d-done-it. Akane closed her eyes and tilted her head away from him, bracing for impact. Bracing wasn’t enough, Akane decided as she flew through the air, banging her head sharply on the rocks behind her. “Sorry? You’re SORRY?!” he demanded, a hiss in his voice that ended suspiciously in a catch. “You murder my only son, tell everyone you can’t remember doing it, and then you say you’re SORRY?!” Akane’s heart pounded wildly, but at the same time she felt the urge to leap to her own defense. “I didn’t kill him old man,” she growled back. “So lay off!” He froze, an incandescent fury taking hold of him. “DON’T TALK LIKE HIM!!! YOU MURDERED HIM YOU STUPID—” he suddenly choked on his own words, slamming her once again into the wall behind her. Akane was seeing stars—yet her head felt strangely clear. Genma was this man’s name. How could she not have remembered the father of her fiancé? She frowned at him, confused for a moment as a black haze briefly overwhelmed her. Something having to do with... cats. Cats? But— FOCUS! her mind demanded, bringing her attention back to the man facing her. I have to do better than insult him. I have to... think like Nabiki. “Don’t you think my father might be upset if he finds out what happened here? What you’re accusing me of?” Akane demanded in a much more calm tone. Sounding panicky would only get her into worse trouble—though admittedly trouble worse than this would be hard to find. Genma shook his head angrily. “I don’t care what he thinks. His family has betrayed mine, and I plan on taking a life for a life. But first—” He cracked his knuckles menacingly. “I want you to tell me exactly how you did it. I want to know what you did. I want to know how a third-rate martial artist like you defeated MY SON!” Akane’s lips twisted. “I don’t remember, but I know I DIDN’T! LET ME GO!” Genma smiled at her, a nasty, slow smile that spread across his face like a cancer. “I was hoping you were going to say that,” he said. It was like something out of a bad movie, Akane thought. Except, the fact was, he... meant it. He’d torture her and enjoy hearing her scream. Akane racked her brains. If there was any time to be calm, rational, and smart, now was that time. It seemed to make him angry when she spoke like Ranma. Fine, then. “Well, old man, are you gonna give me a chance like a martial artist, or are you really as pathetic as you seem?” Genma blinked at her, a bit surprised by her change in tack. “You’re talking about honor. That word doesn’t exist for me anymore, little girl. It barely did while Ranma was alive, and his death swept it clean out of me.” Akane gulped, but she pasted a brave, cocky expression across her face. “What? Too slow? Gotten too fat, panda? Too fat to fight me for real?” Genma grimaced, but Akane could see it wasn’t going to be enough. “Besides,” she added slyly in sudden inspiration, “won’t it be more fun to take me apart bit by bit?” That did it. The older martial artist growled and ripped her ropes from her wrists and ankles, leaving raw marks. Akane rubbed at them, buying herself some time. She just needed to move the fight outside of the cave, then employ the Saotome secret technique. Her only concern was surviving that long. Ranma’s father had often appeared to be weaker than his son, but Akane’s memories told her that the surface did not betray the reality. Every now and then, Genma would reveal something totally new in his formidable arsenal, which indicated he’d often held back while fighting his son. In addition, this Genma was not the fat, lazy layabout she remembered. This man was leaner, stronger... angrier. She was willing to bet he’s picked up some new techniques, sure as the sun rose in the morning. There was nothing for it, though. She had no choice. Akane stood carefully, falling into an average kempo stance, watching Genma slip into Anything Goes. Before Akane knew it, she was adjusting in a way foreign to her, and planning his next several moves in her head. She faltered, blinking down at her own body— And Genma attacked. He was faster. It was all Akane could do to weave around his strikes. She still couldn’t manage to move outside. She needed to be outside in order to fight, as well as to escape. Then, to her surprise, she found Genma was moving the fight for her. A relatively simple strike with his left leg out straight, a move that she probably could have blocked, herded her towards the cave mouth. She leapt backwards, allowing herself to be moved outside, wondering why the other martial artist was attacking in a manner so in conjunction with her wishes for flight. The cave opened onto a grassy plain totally unfamiliar to Akane, but she saw mountains in the background and prayed they weren’t in China. Genma probably thought it would be poetic justice if she died where Ranma had, she decided grimly. It was then that she found out why Genma had moved their battle. The martial artist launched himself high into the air with a cry, his flight seemingly effortless, a foot extended towards her. Part of Akane’s mind froze in sheer terror. The other part deflected Genma’s kick with her left arm and used her right to punch him as he passed her. “You’re never going to win that way, stupid girl,” he hissed as she landed, clutching his stomach in pain. “In an aerial battle, the one in the air wins. Plain and simple.” “I guess we’ll see about that,” she replied evenly, thinking, I can do this I can keep grabbing him out of the air, I can do it, I can beat him! A cocky smile flickered over her features. “Just try it, old man!” she cried, remembering her original tactic of trying to sound like her former fiancé. Genma gave an inarticulate howl of rage before rushing her once more, his hands blurring. He didn’t have to yell anything concerning chestnuts, but his technique was obvious. Akane fell under his onslaught, taking several hard hits on her shoulders and around her breasts. She fell back, breathing labored. “Not bad, for a panda,” she wheezed appreciatively. “Not bad for a spoiled princess freak!” he replied, wiping blood from his lip. For a moment, they faced one another in silent appraisal. “How’d you get so good so fast?” he wanted to know as he began circling her again. Akane nodded once, to herself. “Guess Ranma must have taught me all of this.” “And you used it to kill him,” Genma spat. “Not true, you bastard—!” “Why don’t you just shut up and DIE!!!” Genma screamed as a ki blast flew out of his hands, hitting Akane in the chest and causing her to fly backwards. Akane blinked, shaking her head free of cobwebs. That was the second special attack he’d done, and she didn’t even know what he’d thrown this time. Damn him! She hadn’t even been able to tell he’d been building up his ki! Shakily she stood. I can’t die now. Things are just beginning to work out okay. I have friends now, even a boyfriend. My family, and my schoolwork, and college someday. “There’s no way I’m gonna lose!” she proclaimed. “MOUKO TAKABISHYA!!!” she screamed, her hands extended. A small blast hit Genma and sent him sprawling. Akane was looking at her own hands, stricken. “N-no,” she whispered. She could hear Nabiki’s voice. ‘He was killed using a ki attack...’ Meanwhile, Genma was recovering. “He taught you everything he knew... how could you do it? How could you kill him?!” “STUPID. OLD. MAN,” Akane shouted across the distance, her hands clenched and tears in her eyes. “I didn’t goddamn kill him! I LOVED RANMA!!!” The two of them stood facing one another, ten meters apart, each one again assessing the skills of the other. Both were breathing heavily, but Akane knew she was hurting more. She also had no idea about her ki reserves, but felt tired, exhausted. She could scarcely keep upright. Genma, on the other hand, looked like he was just getting warmed up. He smiled even though blood ran from his lip and also down his right cheek. “I want to know,” he repeated, “why you did it.” Akane started to cry. Genma’s certainty was getting to her. “I’m sorry! I just don’t know! I don’t know what happened!” Genma reassessed her quietly. “Maybe not,” he conceded. “But it doesn’t change what you did.” His expression was icy now, all of his anger gone—replaced with determination. “I will kill you for it.” Akane’s lips thinned. “TENDO SECRET TECHNIQUE!” she screamed. And ran. She ran for miles, her legs numb. She ran, directionless, until a root tripped her, twisting her ankle. Akane fell with a cry, landing so that half of her body hung out over a sheer rock face. She sat up and peered down, spying what she knew had to be Jhusenkyo. The forest had been so dark and deep and she’d been running so fast, that if she hadn’t tripped... Then, like Ryoga, she would have fallen. Fallen into one of the springs. It was only just, she decided, putting her head into her hands. She deserved to fall in, maybe into Spring of Drowned Flea. She sighed. That was too easy. What she really deserved was to die. Akane scooted closer to the edge, peering down at the springs below. If she aimed properly, she might hit the ground. She sighed and shook her head—there were too many people waiting for her at home. She couldn’t be so selfish. From her vantage point, Akane could see for quite aways—a mile, she estimated, all around. There was a small blackened spot down below, west of Jhusenkyo. A blackened spot like one made by a ki attack. It happened right there, she thought, and with sudden clarity. The... the murder. Akane’s lips firmed. She looked behind her, and strained to hear any sounds of pursuit. She had probably lost Genma. The underbrush was so thick behind her that she, still quite a bit smaller despite Genma’s weight loss, had a distinct advantage. She could probably head back the way she’d come and climb safely down. Still, she deliberated, wasting precious seconds. What did she really hope to accomplish by going down there? Did she think it was all going to come back to her in one miraculous rush if she viewed the place? She could see it from here, after all. It was a faint hope, but any hope was better than none. Akane walked twenty minutes, still limping slightly, before reaching the seared bit of earth. By all rights, grass should have grown over the area so many months after the - the death. Yet it, too, remained lifeless. Akane knelt painfully and ran her fingers across the dark, withered grasses, the parched soil, before wetting it with her tears. Here, and yet no closer. Damn it. “Hey.” Akane stood and whirled, her hand at her throat, before swaying and almost swooning. “R-Ryoga!” she exclaimed, not sure whether she should be terrified or relieved. The martial artist had a black gaze on her. His hands were stuck in his pockets, though, and he didn’t appear ready to attack her. Ryoga’s eyes swung sadly to the burnt earth. “No matter where I go, I end up coming right back,” he said to the ground, his voice haunted. “Like something’s pulling me.” Akane blinked her tears away. “Maybe it’s pulling the both of us. Genma dragged me here, but I found this place without him.” She ran her fingers through the blackened soil sadly. Ryoga knelt next to her. “I shouldn’t have done that to you, before. The both of us did what seemed best to our honor at the time. I... I can’t blame you... for your... decision.” This last statement seemed forced out of him as if by a herculean effort. Akane shook her head, tears still flowing—she couldn’t help it. “Nothing makes sense, damn it! I don’t understand!!!” Ryoga shook his head, seemingly at a loss as to what to say to her. “You’re wounded; what happened? Run into the Musk? The Amazons?” He chuckled grimly. “Though it’s no more than you deserve, I suppose.” Akane whirled from some instinct raised to light only recently, and saw a flash of white not too far behind them, already past the springs. “Genma—he’s coming! He thinks I killed—” Ryoga frowned. “But—” “Help me out,” Akane begged, leaning close. “I know you’re upset with me, but please! I don’t think I can handle him any longer. I’m amazed that I held out as long as I did.” Her eyes shifted briefly to the approaching martial artist. Ryoga growled, then pushed her away. “Stop that! I told you the last time that I hate it when you act like that!” “Act like what? Ryoga, c’mon... you hoist me into the air after not seeing me for months, and then you expect me to know what you’re pissed off about this time.” Akane’s tears were gone, now, replaced with a familiar frustration. Genma would reach them any second, and Ryoga wanted to argue! Ryoga snorted. “What do you think? I know what you did.” He shook his head, correcting himself. “What we did.” “WHAT DID WE DO?” Akane howled, but then Genma was upon them, fighting like a demon, and Ryoga was fighting alongside her, although pretty half-heartedly for one of the best martial artists in the world, he didn’t want to protect her anymore, didn’t like her anymore, but that was okay ‘cause stupid P-chan couldn’t find his ass with both hands, and at least he was helping, and— Akane kept her thoughts on inconsequentials, letting her body think for itself. Her body—her body remembered how to do all of Ranma’s moves. Her mind did not. Best to keep the brain occupied with other things. Best not to think she was using Anything Goes on one of its original students. On somebody who would have been her dad if the wedding had panned out. With Ryoga’s help, Akane slowly wore the old martial artist down. Kick-jab, dodge-sweep, they took him slowly. Akane feared it would be too slow; revenge seemed to afford Genma plentiful reserves. He wasn’t gonna go down easy. “Shi Shi Hokodan!!!” Ryoga cried. “Mouko Takabishya!” Akane added, but this was her last attack, and she knew it. She felt herself collapse, fall to her knees, as Ryoga executed a finisher. “I suppose you’re going to kill me, now, too,” Genma whispered, his voice incredibly weighted down by his weariness. Akane was too exhausted to respond. “No,” Ryoga replied for her. “We aren’t in the business of killing people, Saotome-san. It was strictly an accident.” Akane felt something shatter deep inside her just before she passed out.
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