DEVIL'S INDIFFERENCE -------------------- A Ranma fic by Cass My heartfelt thanks to GSL who actually pushed me to write this out and was nice enough to wait until 1 am to pre-read my fic. Then we talked till 2am, discussing the fic. Her suggestions made this a much better fic than it was in my vision. Three cheers to my favourite pre-reader! As per usual, please C&C! You can reach me at chiaty@singnet.com.sg http://web.singnet.com.sg/~chiaty/fanfics.htm Disclaimer: I don't own the Ranma characters. I'm not making money out of this fic. < > = character's thoughts ----------------------------------------------------------------- 'In 999 AD, the Catholic Church predicted that the end of the world would occur in 1000 AD. Needless to say, it didn't happen, much to the chagrin of wealthy lords who had given away their assets as a final attempt to gain favor. Centuries later, Nostramus predicted that a great king of terror would come from the skies in July 1999 and hence bring forth Armageddon. He was wrong. The demise of the world as we knew it actually began on 18th November 1999. An ordinary Thursday. Who would have thought?' ----------------------------------------------------------------- 18th NOVEMBER 1999 (AFTERNOON) JAPAN, NERIMA OUTSIDE A LOCAL CINEMA "Calm down, guys. I wasn't on a date with her. We just happened to sit next to each other in the cinema. A mere coincidence," explained Ranma as he backed away from the angry crowd of fiancees. "And she just happened to rest her head on your shoulder," added Ukyou icily. Ranma visibly relaxed as he smiled at his childhood friend. "Yeah, I knew you would understand. When the monsters appeared on the screen, she got scared and that's why she leaned towards me." "Do you think we are idiots?" shouted the trio as they wielded various weapons. Akane grabbing a baseball bat, Shampoo with her bonbori and Ukyou doing a few experimental slices with her giant spatula. The pig-tailed martial artist gulped and slowly began plotting his retreat. He might be the best martial artist in Japan but in the face of his three fuming fiancees, there was only one thing he could do... RUN! Only to find his retreat route blocked by Kuno Tatewaki aka annoying upperclassman and Mousse. "You don't deserve someone like Shampoo. Let's get this over with once and for all." "How dare you entrap such beauties, Saotome. I shall defeat you or my name isn't Blue Thunder!" he wondered as he kicked Kuno straight into the arms of Mousse and fled. Knowing that the crowd of fiancees and their admirers would undoubtedly be on his trail, Ranma tried to explain again. "I don't even know the girl, honest. She was frightened by the monsters. If she was Akane, then the monsters would have ran away in fear." "Ranma, you jerk!" screamed Akane as she threw a trashcan at him. Nimbly dodging the stinking missile, along with the metal chains courtesy of one male Amazon, Ranma ran for the outskirts of town. And so the teenagers cut a path through the crowded afternoon streets of Nerima, passing the commercial zone and zoomed past the tiny suburban houses, causing mild chaos. The Nerima residents were experienced enough to run and hide whenever a mass of teenagers pissed off at one Saotome Ranma were heading their way, so no one was injured. Sadly, the same could not be said for their cars and houses. Frustrated by their inability to capture Ranma, nobody noticed the road sign that stated "Sadako Town, 5 miles". ----------------------------------------------------------------- SAME DAY JAPAN, SADAKO "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Sadako Museum of History & Arts. I'm your tour guide for this wonderful journey back to the past. My name is Namie. This month, we're honoured to house 150 priceless artifacts on loan from the China government. We have divided them into three sections: Historical, Religious and Mythological. If you will follow me please," said the young tour guide cheerfully as she waved a small red flag above her. The twenty or so bunch of adults and children, noisily followed. Only a few of them were tourists, eagerly snapping shots of anything and everything that caught their eye, even the bright green public payphone. The majority of the tour group were natives, taking the advantage of a public holiday to enrich their children with Chinese culture. Anything would be better than letting their brains fester watching television and playing computer games. "Here we have relics from Tang Dynasty," recited Namie as she led them into a room filled with objects of various shapes and sizes enclosed in glass cases. Sidestepping the smaller displays, she focused on a large open coffin placed in the center of the room. In it, rested a male with pale almost whitish complexion and ruddy lips. He was dressed in a dark blue oriental robe similar to an Eunuch's. But what drew people's attention was the scrap of yellow paper stuck on his forehead. "This is believed to be a vampire. Not the Count Dracula type but rather a Chinese vampire that hopped with his arms outstretched." Several adults and children snickered as they leaned closer to the glass case enclosing the coffin. "Now, kids. I wouldn't come to close to it. Folklore has it that the yellow talisman on its forehead is the only thing keeping it asleep. If the talisman was removed, then it would be awakened and suck each and everyone of us dry." Noticing the disbelieving expressions, Namie began telling a convoluted and scary vampire tale which 'happened' to her great grandmother. Just then a commotion was heard outside. Everyone turned back in time to see a boy running through the open doors. Close behind him, was a crowd of angry teens. Their angry voices and shouts melded into a cacophony of indecipherable noise. "Don't you guys ever give up?" shouted the first guy as he ran past the curious tourists. A dagger landing two inches from his feet was the only reply. Someone screamed and scrambled for the nearest exit. Others attempted to follow, running in every conceivable direction. The Nerima gang paid them no heed, the frustration Ranma caused them for two whole years finally reached its peak. No more waiting for Ranma to make up his mind. No more pining away for him or his fiancees. thought the girls in unison. the guys swore. Tiny spatulas whizzed by Ranma and landed on the wall, cutting the huge imperial yellow banner, proclaiming the China artifact exhibit. Shampoo sped by, in her haste knocking over a huge Tang vase. Namie watched blankly as the vase rocked from side to side and slowly tumbled off its perch, spinning down, down, down to the marble floor. Propelled into movement, the young tour guide fell to the floor, her hands outstretched, catching the vase. Heaving a sigh of relief, she sat up, clutched the vase protectively to her chest and watched as the damages piled up. "Hah! Missed me!" proclaimed Ranma as he dodged, not one but three, flying mallets. "Saotome! I shall defeat you!" yelled Mousse, glaring at a statue. "You blind duck! You're not even looking at the right direction!" taunted Ranma. Letting loose a guttural scream of rage, Mousse turned slightly to his left, in the direction of Ranma's voice. Metal chains with spikes at the ends flew out of the confines of his silken long sleeves and sped towards the target. Ranma calmly stood his ground, only leaping away at the very last moment. The Chinese male ground his teeth in anger and hurriedly pulled the metal chains back, unconcerned with the large gorges left in the floor. He aimed again, this time sending his chains flying, in a fan-like pattern, hoping to cover all his bases. One of the chains sped towards a rectangular display case, its spike crashing through the glass, seemingly missing the artifact stored within by a few millimetres. "Damn it!" swore Mousse as he, along with the others, gave chase to the fleeing Saotome Ranma. Mere seconds after the Nerima gang had left the museum through a human-shaped hole courtesy of Shampoo, the security guards and the local police ran in. thought Namie, as she was soon surrounded by a handful of cops and security personnel asking a barrage of questions. The rush of adrenaline fading, she fainted, escaping the task of answering their questions for the moment at least. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Angry voices pulled Namie from her uneasy slumber, though it took her awhile to differentiate real voices from dream ones. Sitting upright on the sofa, she surveyed her surroundings. A wooden table, a PC, several chairs and cupboards. An ordinary office. What set it apart from the others were the small objects scattered on the shelves and table. To her untrained eye, they seemed like genuine rare pieces of someone's collection. In no mood to play detective, she stood up, predicting that the police would want to speak to her. Stepping out of the office, she stared dumbfounded at the sheer number of policemen standing or crouching. It was as though the police station was temporarily relocated here. In the face of so many uniformed cops, some shooting photographs, some collecting evidence and others talking to witnesses, the damage to the museum seemed more severe. A man approached, flashing his badge. "Miss Namie? Could you please follow me, I would like to ask you some questions regarding this incident." Namie nervously complied, following him to a more isolated area in the room. Attention diverted, she didn't notice the sign on the office door she exited - "Mr. Masaharu Fukuyama, Curator". ----------------------------------------------------------------- This was his pet project, one he had spent a whole year persuading his superiors and the China government on. Bringing 150 religious and mystical artifacts from China dating back to the Tang Dynasty and showcasing them throughout Japan, starting with his own small museum in Sadako district, thereby increasing the interest in Chinese culture and history in the younger generation and fostering the ties between the two countries. he thought as he turned the gold box in his hands, revealing the tiny hairline fracture caused by an accident earlier today. It was considered to be one of a kind, originally possessed by the family of a high-ranking official for several generations, before it was presented to the Tang emperor. The ten centimetre by eight centimetre box was made of solid gold with tiny Chinese words engraved on all sides. Exactly, what the words meant, he was not sure. A poem of some sort detailing a great battle, perhaps. What was strange about the box was that nobody today could open it. X-rays had revealed it was empty, yet its weight was heavier than an empty gold box of similar dimensions. His index finger slowly traced out the hairline fracture, cutting across two of the Chinese words. The damage was slight enough not to be easily noticeable. In fact, unless a person knew what he was looking for, he could easily miss it, even with the aid of a magnifying glass. "Excuse me, Mr. Masaharu Fukuyama. Have you assessed the damage done to this exhibition?" It was the District Head of Police, looking as though he would much rather be swimming in a icy lake than be here right now. Not that the curator didn't understand why. The potential fall-out from this incident could be huge. The District Head would be facing pressure from the media, the Japanese government and the Chinese government to catch the culprits, once the news got out. "Mr. Fukuyama. Were any of the artifacts damaged?" he repeated. Fukuyama rubbed the crack again as he answered, "No. Only the display cases, the banner and some of the marble tiles were damaged." "Can you give me an estimate of the damage and a list of the objects on display here?" "Sure, I'll give you a copy of the catalogue in my office later. As for the estimate, my assistant will be more able to provide you with a more precise figure. I'm lousy with figures." "Any reason why someone would want to ruin your exhibition?" probed the policeman. He paused. "No. Have you found out the identities of the uh... vandals? We have security cameras all over the museum, it shouldn't be too difficult to find out who's responsible," snapped the curator. Realising the insensitivity of his words, he quickly apologised. "I'm sorry. It's just that it would reflect badly of this museum and-" "I understand. The truth is that the culprits were very smart, disconnecting the security cameras in this room once they entered. All we have to go on is a blurry picture of a man with a pigtail, identified by the witnesses as one of the parties. The witnesses couldn't even agree on the number, let alone come up with a good description of them." "Then it's hopeless." "It is too early to give up. Rest assured, we are doing our best." ----------------------------------------------------------------- 22TH NOVEMBER 1999 JAPAN, SADAKO Midnight. All was quiet in the museum, save for the fading footsteps of the middle-aged security guard. He turned back once, reassuring himself that the exhibits were safe, before continuing his rounds. Since the fiasco regarding a fight breaking out here in broad daylight two days ago, the management became obsessed with security. If something happened on his shift, suffice it to say, he would be out of a job. His stomach grumbled for a midnight snack and the guard hurried off, never noticing how the moon's rays seemed to concentrate on a single exhibit. The rectangular golden box glowed eerily red for a second and then returned to normal. Grayish smoke oozed out of the tiny hairline fracture in the box, filled the glass display case and spread throughout the room. Like a sentient entity, it slowly permeated the entire museum, seeking human presence. Eventually, the smoke found the guards sitting amicably in the pantry, sharing red bean cakes and cups of green tea. Smoke pooled around the feet of the men, so thick it actually seemed solid. Tendrils of smoke crept upwards, following the contours of the men's bodies. No one saw the smoke or felt the wrongness of the situation or heard the warnings whispered by the trees. Unwittingly, the men inhaled the smoke, as easily as they breathed in air. Someone said a joke just then and they all laughed. Minutes later, they would continue patrolling as if nothing happened. Meanwhile, tendrils of smoke forced its way out of the museum, through the tiny gaps between the doors and the ground. Aided by the sudden gust of wind, it escaped into the night, in the direction of the residential area. ----------------------------------------------------------------- 27TH NOVEMBER 1999 (EARLY MORNING) Fuji stifled a moan as he unlocked his apartment door and entered. He always hated the night shift, being awake when everybody was asleep and finally sleeping when the entire neighbour was up and about. He didn't bother to announce that he was back, no sense in waking his family up. Everyone deserved to sleep in on weekends, everybody except him that is. "Daddy!" shouted Kimiko in delight as she ran to her father and hugged him. She sounded way too perky for his liking. "I've got an A in the Maths test in my cram school. You said if I got an A, you'll bring me to Sanrioland. Pulling his arms, she dragged him towards the exit. "Let's go now!" "No," he replied flatly, gently pushing Kimiko away. "I'm not going to earn money only to give it all away to that creator of Hello Kitty, Tusji Shintaro. 'Hello Kitty'. What a stupid name! What a stupid cat! Now let me sleep in peace!" He stormed off to his bedroom. "Daddy's just tired, that's all. We'll go next Saturday instead, okay?" comforted Kimiko's mother, as she stared at Fuji. ----------------------------------------------------------------- 28TH NOVEMBER 1999 (EVENING) Fuji sipped at his miso soup in sullen silence. Sensing his bad mood, Nanami and Kimiko kept quiet as well. Suddenly, Fuji grimaced and spit out his mouthful of soup. "It's too salty!" "No, it isn't," countered his wife, Nanami as she sipped her own bowl of soup. "Don't try to deny it! What kind of wife are you if you can't even cook a simple miso soup well?" "It tastes the same as it always did. You never complained before," she calmly replied. "But if you think it is too salty, I'll pour some hot water into the soup." She stood up and reached for his bowl. Growling his displeasure, Fuji knocked over the bowl, spilling its contents onto the dining table. "Don't bother." "What is wrong with you today? You've been in a bad mood the whole day and now you're upset over miso soup." She placed her hand over his and asked, "Did something happened at work yesterday night?" He grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed hard. "Nothing happened. It just hit me what a terrible wife you are. Why I put up with you all these years is a mystery to me." Tears sprung unbidden to her eyes as she looked at the man she married. "Why are you saying that? I love you and you love me and Kimiko." "Shut the hell up! I'm sick of your whining!" He slapped her face, the sound thunderous to everyone present. Kimiko shut her eyes and hugged herself, whimpering in shock and fear. "Oh my god," whispered Fuji in shock. He hugged his wife tightly. "I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry, Nanami. I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I love you, Nanami. Please forgive me," he pleaded. "Let go of me!" screamed his wife, tears streaming down her cheeks as she struggled in his arms. Instantly, he released her and stepped back. "Stay away from me!" she warned as she grabbed Kimiko and ran towards the door. "No! Nanami! Don't leave me, please," he begged. His mood suddenly shifted and his eyes reflected rage, pure animalistic rage. "Don't you dare leave me! Don't you dare walk away from me!" He took a couple of huge strides and harshly pulled her arm back. Relishing the look of fear and betrayal on her beautiful face, he plunged his knife into her chest. She gasped once, then crumpled onto the floor. Fuji blinked and looked at his right hand. When did he pick up a knife? He stared at the knife, blood dripping from its edge. Blood. Nanami's blood. Dropping the knife as if it was a poisonous cobra, he screamed. Squatting beside her unconscious mother, Kimiko cried and begged for her to wake up. Kimiko's fingers slowly reached for the bloody knife. She could clearly hear the siren call of the knife. It wanted justice, revenge for hurting her mother. It beckoned to her, singing promises that she was merely doing what her mother would have wanted. She shook her head in confusion and the voice faded away. She grasped her mother's arm with both hands and wailed in anguish. ----------------------------------------------------------------- 29TH NOVEMBER 1999 (NIGHT) "Yesterday night, a man was arrested for assaulting his wife who still remains in a coma. The exact details are unknown to us at this time but the man apparently went on record stating that he felt no remorse for his actions. The man, described by friends to be friendly and kind, worked as a security guard in the Sadako Museum..." "How horrible," gasped Kasumi. "...Once crowned the most crime-free town of 1996, the Sadako police had their hands full with thirty unrelated criminal incidents today alone..." Akane frowned. "That's so strange. I remember Sayuri telling me how peaceful and friendly the townspeople were. She had lived there for ten years before moving here. Kids could play out in the streets nearby at night, without fear. Everyone is nice to one another-" "Not like someone we all know who has the urge to mallet everything that offends her," interjected Ranma. Akane glared at the freeloading troublemaker. "Who exactly are you referring to?" Her icy tone in direct contrast to the anger boiling inside. "Who else?" countered Ranma. "You should know who I'm referring to. If you don't, then you're delusional as well." "Ranma no baka!" yelled the youngest Tendo as her hand reached to give him a tight slap. "Don't start a fight that you're sure to lose, Akane," he sneered as he caught her wrist before her hand connected with his face. With that warning, he slowly pushed her wrist back beyond its normal position. Kasumi stared at Ranma in shock. "What are you doing?" "Please let go of her hand." Beside her, Nabiki sat impassively, viewing the situation. She made no move to stop Ranma, although inwardly she was worried for her sister's safety. Swallowing her screams of pain, Akane glared defiantly at her fiance. She was a martial artist and a martial artist never showed her weaknesses. How would she be able to inherit the dojo if she couldn't even escape from this hold. Her free hand tensed up as she threw a punch. Moments before it connected, Ranma evaded the blow and found himself staring at the frightened expression in Kasumi's eyes. That look brought out the protective instincts buried deep within the young martial artist and he released Akane's hand. In a daze, he watched silently as Akane massaged her aching wrist. To his experienced eye, it seemed to be only sprained. Kasumi quickly led Akane into the bathroom where the first aid supplies were kept. But he couldn't let her walk off without attempting an explanation. What he would say though, he had no inkling. How could he tell her that he didn't mean it, when he wasn't sure himself? Still, he had to try. "Akane." She stopped in her tracks but refused to face him. "I... I didn't know what came over me. I didn't mean to... I'm sorry. Really I am." For several long moments, the silence dragged on between them. Ranma fidgeted, knowing instinctively that how she reacted would affect their relationship irreversibly. He could hear the ticking sounds of the wall clock's hands moving. One second. Two seconds. Three... Forty...A hundred seconds. Akane turned back and stared into his cornflower blue eyes. Her piercing gaze seemingly able to penetrate deep into the hidden caverns of his heart. Ranma's heart pounded. "I believe you. Our argument just got out of hand." Ranma released the breath he was subconsciously holding. "Come on Akane, we better put some ointment on that wrist," urged Kasumi. ----------------------------------------------------------------- FROM THE DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI DATED 1ST DECEMBER 1999 I never suspected anything was wrong. True, the crime rate was increasing rapidly but who cares? Those crimes occurred in other towns. Even when Nerima suddenly had a spate of criminal activity, I was unconcerned. So long as nothing happened to the people I cared about or had business dealings with, the world was fine and dandy to my eyes. It was this kind of indifference that would be the thread that unravels us all. It was only after the 'tea incident' as I liked to call it, that I finally saw the light or rather the darkness that had shrouded Nerima. ----------------------------------------------------------------- EARLIER "I'm home," uttered Nabiki as she walked into the living room. Soun and Genma being too engrossed in their game of shoji, didn't respond. Kasumi, looked up from her dusting and smiled. "Welcome back, Nabiki." Nabiki sat down on the sofa, a manga in hand. Idly, she flipped the pages of the manga while waiting for her favourite drama serial to come on. Soun turned away from his shogi board for an instant, asking Kasumi to prepare more tea for them. Kasumi stared at the two grown men. "Why don't you get it yourself, father?" she spoke in a sugary voice. Voice returning to normal, she continued, "Or is your butt glued to the cushion?! It is always 'Kasumi, get this. Kasumi, I want this. Kasumi, I'm hungry. Kasumi, I need hot water.' Well, Kasumi is sick and tired of being everyone's slave! From now on, you get your own damn tea!" "Kasumi?" "I'm sorry, father. I don't know what came over me. I... No, I don't feel sorry at all. I feel... liberated. If you want to eat or drink something, get it yourself!" She glared at the two males and they visibly winced. Still in a bad mood, she stomped back into her room. ----------------------------------------------------------------- FROM THE DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI DATED 3RD DECEMBER 1999 Who was this imposter wearing the shell of my eldest sister? The Kasumi I know would never talk back to her elders. Whenever she was sick, she still insisted on taking care of us, doing the housework and cooking. Where had that Kasumi gone? You might think that perhaps she was tired and needed a break. By tomorrow, she would be back to her motherly self and delicious smells would waft out from the kitchen. You're wrong. Oh, the clothes still got washed - Kasumi's clothes that is. Dishes were still prepared - just not for the rest of us. Polite requests for her to do the housework were met with a "You got hands too, why don't you do it?! Leave me alone!" As if a fog had been lifted, I noticed that Akane and Ranma were quarreling more often than usual, with rising violence. Akane would try to mallet him but he would deflect the blow and twist her arm or punch her. Akane ended up bruised and bloodied more often than not. What was equally surprising was the reactions of father. Always fiercely protective of us, he now ignored the fights. He didn't even cry at the sight of his youngest daughter being injured. Uncle Saotome? He just took advantage of the distraction, to steal his son's food. The food was usually takeout that paled in comparison to Kasumi's home- cooked meals but no one was willing to try Akane's cooking. When Kasumi's behaviour did a 180 degrees turn, no one else seemed to care. They asked her to do the housework, she refused. They demanded she perform her housekeeping tasks, she shouted back. No one asked her if she was alright, as if the most important thing was whether meals get cooked, house dusted and rising piles of dirty laundry cleaned. Being the concerned sister that I was, I inquired if she was feeling okay. Her reply? "I'm be more than fine after you get out of my face. Looking at you makes me want to puke." And then she slammed her bedroom door shut. That remark hurt more than I could ever admit. I hurriedly got out of the house, only to run right into a fight between Kuno-baby and Ranma. For once not swinging his trademark wooden bokken, he swung at Ranma with a real Samurai's sword. His ease with the weapon, the way he handled himself and the moves he made, calculated to cause maximum injury to the other party, all added to make him a larger threat than usual. Without a weapon, Ranma seemed to be at a disadvantage but he didn't back down. As per usual, I called out for bets from the onlookers. Counting the money and watching the ongoing fight simultaneously, I felt... different. I would make more profit if Kuno won, so I began cheering for him. The two circled each other warily, assessing each other's weaknesses. Kuno made no pompous, self-righteous speech about defeating the evil sorcerer and freeing the maidens. Instead, he pounced silently, sword slashing down onto his opponent. "Kill him, Kuno-baby!" I shouted, in the heat of the moment. That cry prompted others to chant, "Kill! Kill! Kill!" What have I become? When did making a couple of hundred more yen become more important than a single human life? When did I become such a monster? No! That is not me! I hurriedly dropped all the money and fled. ----------------------------------------------------------------- 5TH DECEMBER 1999 JAPAN, NERIMA TENDO RESIDENCE Nabiki walked out of the kitchen, carrying a cup of instant noodles. Pushing aside the magazines, empty packets of snacks and dirty laundry, she sat down. TV Remote in one hand, she channel surfed until she reached a news programme - The Japan News Hour. A female newscaster in a trendy business suit announced, "Welcome back to Japan News Hour. Now the global news. Malaysians today were to cast votes to select a government that will lead them to the next millennium. Yet the voting booths remained deserted. People in the streets stated that they did not care who became their political leaders, that all political leaders were corrupted anyway. "Still on Malaysia, a fight broke out among the parents of a renown primary school's sports meet yesterday. The fight started when two runners tripped and fell down. Angry parents thought they must have been pushed and thus began arguing with each other. It soon escalated into mass violence as parents, teachers and school children fought each other. "Crimes rates are on a rise in all Asian countries. Specifically, there were five hundred murders reported in Singapore alone yesterday. In Indonesia, one thousand. China, one thousand and two. Philippines, six hundred and fifty. Some experts believe that this is the due to the increasing violent programmes shown on TV and the Western influence. Others believe that this is the beginning of Armageddon. "Our mobile news crew informs us that right now, a riot is occurring in a shopping mall in Tokyo. Miko, our roving reporter is now on the scene. Miko?" The scene changed to the shopping mall where shoppers were punching each other and swinging objects, like their bags at one another. The image was shaky and sometimes blurry as the cameraman dodged the crowd of violent Japanese. Some shoppers, including toddlers, lain on the floor, unmoving. The image focused on one child, no more than ten years old, plunging the knife into a motionless adult male repeatedly. He smiled manically at the camera and stood up, his knife dripping blood onto the marble floor. It was obvious who his next intended victim was - the cameraman. "Miko? Please describe to us the situation." asked the newscaster in the studio, her voice remained calm and emotionless. A man, waving a butcher knife, knocked over the boy and continued on, shouting promises of death to all women who had rejected him. Others followed, trampling over the boy. The image suddenly moved, nauseatingly fast, panning at random directions. It bounced once and then stopped, focusing on a man fending off three screaming housewives. "That's our cameraman, Yutaka!" exclaimed the newscaster. "Can he take on all three at once? Apparently not." The man was being pummeled by an umbrella and then kicked in the shins. "I told him to go for self-defense lessons but he never listened. He must be regretting it now." Aghast at the scene unfolding and disgusted at the newscaster, Nabiki switched off the TV. She left her half-eaten cup of instant noodles on the table, her appetite gone. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Hiding herself in a secluded corner of the local library, Nabiki scanned the several weeks old newspapers. The rising occurrence of violence began in Japan and spread to the world, that much she was certain of. But from where in Japan exactly, did this originate? How did it spread? And what being did this compulsion towards anger and rage coming from? Finally, she hit jackpot. An article detailing the macabre ongoings at Sadako Town. That was the first reference to the escalating violence in Japan. ----------------------------------------------------------------- 21TH DECEMBER 1999 A rugged youth walked past the deserted street, one hand clutching a stuffed pig, another hand holding onto a closed umbrella. Viewing the smoldering ashes of several buildings and the banged up cars with no windscreens and slashed tires, he wondered if he had travelled into a war zone. thought Ryouga. Lengthening his strides, he walked onwards, bypassing a darkened side alley. Instinctively, he stopped and backtracked. He could scarcely believe his eyes when he entered the alley. The corpse of a naked woman draped over several trashbags greeted him. From her greyish complexion, it was obvious she was deceased but still he knelt by the woman and took her pulse. Nothing. Retrieving a worn jacket from his backpack, he covered the woman's nudity with it. That was all he could do for her. For an hour, he walked, without seeing anybody. He could feel eyes on him but there was no one there. Spooked by the sense of foreboding and eminent danger, he picked up his pace. exclaimed Ryouga as the backs of three teenage boys came into view. "Excuse, can you tell me, which way to Japan? I'm going to Nerima." One of the boys turned to look at him and growled, "Stay out of our business!" The speaker seemed vaguely familiar but no name came to mind. Then Ryouga walked closer and saw what they were doing - kicking a man. "Hey! What are you doing?!" "We warned you. Now you're going to share his fate!" The boy's clothes were spotted with flecks of brownish red, blood no doubt. With that, the trio attacked all at once. Ryouga growled and managed to defeat them, although they seemed stronger and more resilient than their scrawny frames would suggest. He ran towards the injured man, moaning in pain. "Mister?" Suddenly, the man pounced onto Ryouga, intent on pummeling him. "Hey!" shouted Ryouga as he blocked blow after blow. "I just saved you!" His words fell on deaf ears. Seeing no way out, he knocked the man unconscious. Eager to get out of this strange place, he ran past the next few people he met, only stopping to peer at the road signs. "Java Street?" read Ryouga out loud. "But that's near Akane's house. That means, this is Nerima!" If he remembered correctly, a left turn would bring him in view of Tendo's house. However, he remembered wrong. He found himself walking in the direction of the Nekohanten instead. Deciding that he might as well get some dinner, he entered the restaurant. There were only a handful of patrons, all devouring their food in huge mouthfuls, their eyes casting wary glances at each other. Shampoo and Mousse were nowhere in sight. Sitting down on a vacant seat, he waited for Cologne to notice him. But she didn't. Stomach growling, he approached the elderly woman instead. "Cologne." She didn't respond, absorbed in her task of systematically plucking feathers, one at a time, from a protesting duck, whose wings kept flailing about. "Cologne." He tried again to get her attention. Just then, he noticed a pair of spectacles, its lenses broken, on the table. Aware of its implications, he tried to intervene. Only to be awarded with a stare from the Amazon elder. A stare that conveyed the thoughts of a savage beast which controlled her now. No guilt, no pain, only a warning that he was invading on her turf. He slowly backed off, fingers feeling for glasses of hot water. That only made Cologne grip the duck's neck harder, almost to the point of crushing it. "No," whispered Ryouga. "Leave," Cologne demanded. Ryouga fled the scene, hating himself for his cowardice but realising the futility of engaging Cologne in battle. Tears streaming down, he paid no heed to his surroundings, letting his heart guide the way to Akane. When he actually made it to the Tendo's front gate within ten minutes, he didn't feel triumphant, only dreading and worrying about what he might walk into. If everyone in Nerima is acting violent, there is no reason why Akane, Kasumi or Ranma will be any different. Fervently wishing that this was not so, he walked into the house. Disregarding the obvious disarray the house was in, he walked past the empty kitchen and opened a door, only to slam the door shut again. The bathroom had not been washed for weeks! Filled with a sense of urgency, he yelled out, "Akane! Akane! Are you here? Its Ryouga! Kasumi! Ranma!" There was no response. He didn't felt disappointed though, as if subconsciously, he had already known that the house was deserted. Rushing up the stairs, he yanked open the first door he saw. Empty. Not Akane's room either. He turned to leave when a lavender envelope stating 'Read Me Please' caught his eye. Didn't he see one on the stairs and another in the hallway? Curiosity peaked, he opened the envelope and read the letter. ----------------------------------------------------------------- 'Congratuations, whoever you are. You actually care enough to read this letter. I was seriously beginning to doubt if anyone would care. Or perhaps, this letter would never be read, in which case I would have wasted all this ink for nothing. My name is Tendo Nabiki. Perhaps you've heard of me? Knowing me, you might think that this is one of my moneymaking schemes and that I'm probably hiding somewhere videotaping your actions. Let me assure you, I am perfectly serious about what I'm going to tell you. Dead serious. If you do not know me at all, then please ignore the above lines. Have you seen what the outside world looks like right now, with all the crime and mayhem? There is no kinship, no friendship and no love. Only hate, anger, self-interest. The baser instincts of mankind. The destructiveness innate that will destroy us all. Back in the Tang Dynasty, an evil spirit called Xue Mo Wang possessed every human being in a small town, ordering them to do its bidding. You see, it was not content to be dead. It wanted to breathe, to hear his heart beating and to walk amongst the living. But there was no way it could achieve its wish. So it sought to accomplish the next best thing. Destroy the world by spreading its hatred, rage and bitterness to all. As more people become its puppets of rage, its powers grew. And as its powers grew, it was able to spread its influence to even more people. And so the cycle began, until it was defeated or at the night when yin was greatest, its powers expand thousandfold and his control over the world would be complete. Unfortunately, the greatest Taoist priest of his time, Mao Da Fang got wind of Xue Mo Wang's plans and defeated the latter after a furious battle. Priest Mao had no more strength left to banish it to hell and could only trap the evil spirit in a gold box, with the magic spell that trapped him inside for all eternity, inscribed on the sides of the box. With his dying breath, he inscribed the story and left this warning: If somehow the spell was destroyed, the spirit will once again roam free amongst the living. May that day never come. Later on, this golden box changed owners many times, until finally, it came into the hands of the curator of Sadako museum. It was part of the exhibit of Chinese Historical and Mystical Artifacts. Somehow, it must have been broken, the spell was rendered inactive and the evil spirit was freed. How the box was broken, I do not know. But I do know that Ranma and the gang were responsible for the vandalism that occurred in that museum on 18th November. Cologne believed me, back when she still had control over her own emotions. She had heard of that tale back when she was a mere child. Unfortunately, she had no idea how to defeat this entity, offering only vague half-remembered poems about his first defeat. I know I had yet to offer irrefutable proof of my suspicions. Unless someone ventures into the Mayhem central (Sadako District) and sees for himself the state of the golden prison, my theory is unproven. But take a good look around you and tell me if you can think of another plausible reason why suddenly everyone changed. Why family members would gleefully kill each another? Why others would stand around and watch impassively? Have you felt the compulsion to wound, to maim, to kill or watch the life drain out of another? I have. I lived with that feeling, that need for days now. If I let down my guard just a little, I'm sure I'll never be the same again. So I force myself to feel the hurt, the pain that defines reality these days. For if I'm sad, if I'm crying, then I know that I'm still me. I'm going to Sadako tomorrow. The key to defeating his hold on us all must be there in the box. As I sit here, thinking of what to pack, it hits me all of a sudden that this is no longer my home. A home is where your loved ones are, a place where you feel loved, safe, warm. I'm merely co-existing with strangers now. Strangers who wear the masks of my family but will kill each other if so much as a wrong word is uttered. I'll do anything to get my home back. Yours faithfully, Tendo Nabiki 10th December 1999 PS: My diary is in the top drawer of my dresser. Read it if you still don't believe me. Start from 29th Nov entry.' ----------------------------------------------------------------- Ryouga stuffed the letter back into the envelope and sighed. What Nabiki suggested was so unbelievable. Yet, he could not think of another reason for the unspeakable acts he witnessed earlier. Is this where humanity was heading all along? With a heavy heart, he opened the drawer. His fingers brushed past the surface of the navy blue book, realising that this was an invasion of Nabiki's privacy, yet he had to know. ----------------------------------------------------------------- FROM THE DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI DATED 5TH DECEMBER 1999 I passed by Ukyou's restaurant today afternoon. She was beating up an unarmed man who had refused to pay. His screams only caused her to smile widely and hit him with even more force. Some of the patrons watched on, as though this was a show they had put on. Others just kept on devouring their food, their gaze centered on the plates in front of them. I have to find out what is wrong with everyone. A trip down to the police station wouldn't yield results, since not once did I see cops doing their jobs. I suppose I should be thanking god that they aren't participating in the crimes but the pessimist in me warned that it was only because I never saw it yet. ----------------------------------------------------------------- FROM THE DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI DATED 6TH DECEMBER 1999 I think I found the answer! Don't have time to write longer, I have to think things through. Something tells me that time is of the essence. ----------------------------------------------------------------- FROM THE DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI DATED 7TH DECEMBER 1999 It is getting dangerous to go to the library. A place of learning actually became a mini war zone. I kept waiting for the librarian to come out and hush everybody. Delusional, huh? Anyway, I took the books I needed and ran. Seems like Cologne knew something about Xue Mo Wang. She too have observed what was going on. Shampoo and Mousse have already succumbed to its influence, despite Cologne's warnings. Makes me wonder when is my turn. I avoid father, Akane, Uncle Saotome and Ranma like the plague now. They may look like the people I know but they act like... like... the whole world was out to get them. But somehow, I just can't make myself avoid running into Kasumi. She is my beloved older sister, the one I'm closest to. I can't help but look at her and wish she would smile at me. She threw a mug at me, for staring too long, that's what I got for being sentimental. I see evidence of the wild monsters everyone has become, on the TV, out in the streets, but nothing pains me more than seeing the change in my sister. For converting my kind Kasumi, Xue Mo Wang must pay! ----------------------------------------------------------------- FROM THE DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI DATED 9TH DECEMBER 1999 I'm scared. Yesterday, I almost gave into 'it'. I nearly took a knife and slashed a deranged lunatic who was chasing me. From the moment I picked up the knife, I heard the song encouraging me to strike, to kill, to feel the soft flesh yielding. It grew so loud that I couldn't hear anything else. Only the thought of becoming like him, made me toss away the knife. Now I know what I am truly up against. Now that I'm aware of the siren song, I can hear it repeating infinitely in my head. The song had always been there, since the day the evil spirit was freed, I suppose, softly, subtly cajoling me to act. I tried many ways to banish the song, yet they all failed. When I laugh or cry, the song grows softer but never completely fading away. ----------------------------------------------------------------- FROM THE DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI - excerpt DATED 10TH DECEMBER 1999 It's nearly midnight. I've placed copies of my letter in every corner of my house. Tomorrow, I'll drop other copies as I travel by bicycle to Sadako. I'm terrified... ----------------------------------------------------------------- FROM THE DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI DATED 11TH DECEMBER 1999 Why did I want to go to Sadako and risk my life? Who cares what happens to other people? That's none of my business. Oh my god. It has gotten to me. I was supposed to set off to Sadako today but when I awoke, it didn't seem important anymore. I've wasted a whole day! I can't set off now, its too dark. During the day, I have enough difficulty escaping from the possessed. What hope do I have against them at night? But what if I wake up tomorrow and I wasn't me anymore? Ranma has his radio on, blasting out rock tunes. The whole house feels as though it is vibrating. The urge to pound his head into the damn radio grows stronger by the minute. But I can't! I'm stronger than this thing! I am my own master! ----------------------------------------------------------------- FROM THE DIARY OF TENDO NABIKI DATED 12TH DECEMBER 1999 Boring day. Painted my nails purple. Maybe tomorrow I'll go out and kick some ass! This writing in a diary sucks. Why do I bother writing out things that could be used as blackmail if somebody reads it? And if nobody reads it, then why do I bother writing? Like I said, it is a stupid diary. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Ryouga flipped past the next few pages. All blank. It looked as though Nabiki had never regained control again. He placed the diary back in the drawer, on top of several lavender envelopes, resisting the urge to scream out 'Why me?' at the heavens. Why was he the one who apparently had not been influenced or possessed? Why was he the only one left to play hero? Suddenly, footsteps were heard downstairs. He rushed down, clearing the last five steps in a single leap. Several men dressed in bright yellow suits, complete with gloves and oxygen masks immediately surrounded him. "Who are you?" asked the leader in English. "Hibiki Ryouga," stammered the boy, clearly flustered by the appearance of such strangely clad men and women. "FBI Agent Fox Mulder and this is my partner, Dana Scully," said the leader. "The others are from the US as well, the CDC Unit." "Why are you here?" asked Ryouga, glad that he learned English from a friend two years back. "We've received a fax from a Nabiki Tendo, explaining the reason behind the recent crime wave occurring in most countries." Scully hurriedly interjected, "Not that we actually believe her tale about evil spirits and its plan to turn the world into hell. We need more evidence than mere hearsay and guesswork." Mulder looked as though he disagreed but Scully silenced him with a look. "As America has also been affected by whatever this is, the government sought fit to send us here to investigate. The CDC personnel are here, in case this is a viral outbreak of some sort, which is what some of our experts believe." "If you're looking for Nabiki, you're too late. She has already joined the rest of them out there." He pointed outside. "She left this letter though. I think I'm the only one in Nerima who is unaffected by the spirit." "Why?" asked Mulder. "Truth betold, I just got here today. I was in Jamaica the entire week. Nobody there was acting out of sorts." ----------------------------------------------------------------- 22TH DECEMBER 1999 (AFTERNOON) Ryouga sweated profusely in the spare yellow suit they loaned him. What they were dealing with could not be as easily deterred as using oxygen masks. Too bad, only Agent Mulder believed him. The other FBI agent, Scully, extracted some of his blood for testing. If he was unaffected, then his body must contain the way to counter the virus. wished Ryouga. From Nabiki's diary, he knew he would not 'change' for a couple of days. It was something like an incubation period. He knew he was prone to swings of depression and rage. Not that he didn't have any valid reason to feel this way. But in the face of this supernatural entity, these negative feelings would prove to be his undoing. Hopefully by then the Americans would believe Nabiki and him, and that some of them would survive long enough to defeat Xue Mo Wang. Suddenly aware that the van had stopped moving, he peered out of the window and saw an oddly shaped building with a sign proclaiming 'Sadako Museum'. Adrenaline pumping, he, along with the others, raced out of the van, not bothering to stop to render aid to the dozens of people collapsed on the cement floor. Two of the medical staff, unable to just walk past them, stopped in front of a groaning child and his mother. Too late to warn them, Mulder could only watch as the Americans were torn apart by the bloodthirsty mother and child. Knowing that there was nothing he could do for his fallen comrades, he ran into the museum and closed the doors shut behind him. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Ryouga spun slowly in a circle, bewildered. Where were the bodies, blood, shattered artifacts? Where was the mess prevalent in every single place the supernatural being touched? It looked and felt like a normal museum, except that it was devoid of people not counting themselves. Could Nabiki be wrong? reasoned Ryouga mentally. With each passing minute, the chance of Akane surviving in a brutal world lessened. Even if she did return to normal, would her past violent acts devastate her completely? By unspoken agreement, they all split up in pairs to cover all the rooms. Ryouga was left standing stiffly near the entrance, absorbed in his guilt. Parks and Gump headed to the right, Russell and Scott took the left corridor and that left Mulder and Scully covering the middle. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Dr. Parks and Dr. Gump cautiously proceeded into the room but a detailed investigation yielded no golden box. Disappointed, they headed back to the main hall (the designated meeting point), only to find their path blocked by three young women, dressed in some sort of uniform. They would be considered beautiful, if not for the crazed expressions on their faces. As one, the three women charged, easily overpowering the guys hampered by their huge suits. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Russell and Scott ended up finding themselves in a corridor leading to the various offices and one pantry room. Hoping to find some valuable information, they opened the Curator's office door. Scott stepped in first, only to find himself kicked in the back by a man hiding behind the door. Russell quickly jumped in to help his colleague and best friend. Realising just how difficult it was to fight dressed like that, Russell tore out of his suit and attacked the assailant with a vengeance. Scott soon followed his friend's example. They ganged up on the balding middle-aged man, kicking and punching him relentlessly. The Japanese man kicked back wildly, almost hitting Scott's groin. Growling, Scott balled his fists and punched him in the chest while Russell restrained the Japanese from moving. When their attacker breathed in his last gulp of air, the two Americans looked at one another and smiled. Then one second later, they lunged at each other, heeding the battle song they heard oh so well. ----------------------------------------------------------------- "I've found it!" shouted Mulder in delight. He lifted up the glass display case and cautiously picked up the rectangular box. Scully rushed to his side. "Where's the others?" Scully shrugged, uncaring. "Let me read it," she said. "You? The only thing you can read is Chinese menus," countered Mulder. "Give it to me!" "No!" Both simultaneously drawn their guns. A stalemate. Mulder felt a sense of deja vu as though they had done this before. He didn't want to shoot his partner but he needed to retrieve the box from where it had fallen to the floor. "It is too late. Scully is controlled by the malignant being now. If you don't stop her, you won't be able to save the world. She wouldn't want to suffer like this. Shoot her now! SHOOT HER! SHOOT!" whispered a voice that only he could hear. Meanwhile, Scully was struggling with her own contradicting thoughts. She trusted Mulder impeccably but then the Mulder she knew wouldn't point a loaded weapon at her. "Shoot him," the wind whispered. she screamed mentally. "Who is the one who kept dragging you into danger? You would have been promoted long ago, if not for him. He is hindering you right now, with his beliefs of possession and evil spirits. Look at him! He thinks you're possessed too. He'll shoot you to prevent you from reaching the box. You have to get to the box, don't you, to prove that there is no malevolent force at work. You have to do it. Shoot!" The FBI agents looked at each other and fired. Jostled out of his thoughts by the sound of gunfire, Ryouga looked around in shock. Like a moth drawn to candle flame, he instinctively knew where the box, where the evil had dwelled for centuries was kept. He slowly walked towards it, walking over the unconscious body of Agent Scully, ignoring the body of Agent Mulder that lay on the other side and lifted the box. He heard the song Nabiki had mentioned clearly now. And what a beautiful song it was, singing of hate, anger and greed. He found himself agreeing with the song, understanding that there was no other way, that this was what humanity was all about - only the fittest shall survive. Who cares about the weak? A small part of his soul rebelled against these cruel thoughts but he ignored it. Welcoming the song and the adrenaline rush it came with, Ryouga heeded to the voice of the box and slowly, reverently placed the box back in its display case. He then turned and headed for the exit.