Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Being Lost: Ryoga's New Beginning ❯ Anger, Fear, Wounds, and Words part 1... ( Chapter 3 )

(Refer to previous chapter for disclaimer)

 

Chapter 3

 

Black thick clouds shrouded the once peaceful valley in horrific darkness. The horizon was a memory as a fog was slowly settling in; and the land seemed to stretch on forever into nothingness beneath the oncoming storm. Two figures stood facing another, weapons at the ready, and their stares unwavering; each waiting for the other to move first. The air cooled rapidly as the torrential rain approached. A bead of sweat reflected off the blade of one of the fighters swords as it fell from his nose.

 

`Not much time left…!'

 

“Getting nervous, are you?” the second man called out with a grin. “I can wait forever you know! I have no other desire in life than this!” He waved hand in an acknowledgement of the battlefield they shared. “Kill me or I will kill you. That's all there is to it! Will you let go of all that causes you pain? Or will you just try to ignore it for a little longer?”

 

“Don't even THINK you know ANYTHING about me!” replied the first, barely containing his rage. “I DON'T just `give in' to pain. And I WON'T just give up and die!”

 

His opponent lowered his weapon, just enough to draw attention to his face. Dark brown eyes lined with black narrowed, and the edges of his lips curled up slightly as if he had just won the battle. “How quickly people forget that which is unpleasant to them.”

 

The firsts stance wavered, “W- what do you mean?”

 

The second laughed to himself, locked eyes his eyes to the first's with an expression that was the sum of a lifetime of rage and hate, and responded softly, “You already have…”

 

============

 

For a few minutes they just sat their, staring at each other; both scarcely breathing. Ryoga's mouth was dry once more, but he was overwhelmed with the desire to swallow… hard.

 

"Gul…"

 

He was unable to finish as the sides of his esophagus stuck to each other and it dawned on him that he might have a larger immediate concern than the girl across from him. His hands shot up and clutched at his neck, as if he hoped to pry his windpipe open himself. Things started to feel tingly…

“W-what are you…?” The girl tried to say as her face started to blur. Ryoga leaped up and scanned the room desperately with his eyes for something to drink. The world was suddenly changing colors. `NOTHING!' his mind screamed.

 

“Who are you and what…?” The girl tried again. That was all of what Ryoga heard, however as his eyes locked onto the door to the hallway. `They must have a bathroom around here somewhere!' In a panic he made a leap for the door, and slammed into the wall perfectly opposite it. His body bounced backward from his momentum after the hard hit and fell backward. The girl, now on her feet, wrapped in the blanket, and very confused, got a little bolder, “I demand to know what you are doing in…” His body hit the floor and skidded across the room, his head coming to rest directly under her makeshift robe. Ryoga took pause to wonder why fish would be swimming around indoors.

 

The girl took pause as well, her mind refusing to accept that a situation so absurd as this was actually happening. Had she known what the man underneath her was going through, she might have acted more helpfully; as it was, when she realized what his field of vision encompassed her reaction was less than graceful.

 

“AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

The scream rocked the house, scared sleeping birds from their nests, and woke several villagers. Her leg reared back and shot foreword again, connected with the mans shoulder and sent him back across the room. His upper body banged into the lower portion of the wall and his head broke through a section of boards covering a window. `Pretty colors' Ryoga thought as he admired the now rainbow-sherbet colored sky and the whipped cream clouds.

 

Things began to fade and his vision fell from the sky to rest on the lawn out front. He spied a hot pink horse sleeping on a pile of vibrating hay next to a water trough playing ragtime and… `WATER!' Ryoga tore the remaining boards out of his way, leapt out of the second story window and ran for the water like it was the Holy Grail… or Akane.

 

50 yards, 2 animal pens and a Japanese oak fence later, he stood over the trough gripping it with both hands as if he was afraid it would sprout legs and run away from him like the nearby shovel had. He gazed at the beautiful sight for what seemed like an eternity, but was actually a fraction of a second. The water was murky and cloudy-white, numerous clumps of horse saliva floated on the surface and a culture of mold laid claim to the upper-right corner of the water and ran up and over the side. At that moment, not much could have seemed more beautiful in his mind.

 

In a flash, he plunged his head straight into it, mouth wide open and gulped it down for all he was worth. The wooden container suddenly began to grow, slowly at first then more rapidly. Before he could pull his head back, the rim scooped his legs out from under him and in he fell. His entire body plunged into the disgusting contents and he fell down though its depths. His arms and legs began flailing wildly, desperately trying to free him from the now pool-sized water receptacle. He bumped against the inside and his legs swung around to push off towards the surface. His head suddenly broke though into the open air and he began to gulp down the precious oxygen faster than he had the now cursed water. As things began to reset themselves into normality he began to wonder why the trough wasn't shrinking back down. Suddenly a violent shudder gripped his body. `BRRRR! I better get outta' here, this water is… really… cold…… I hate my life.'

 

============

 

Deep in the nearby forest, a naked figure lying on its side began to stir; slowly, almost unintentionally at first. The body wasn't fat or skinny, neither lanky nor muscular; nondescript in every way. Fingers extended and retracted themselves, a head rolled slowly from side to side. Eyes flowed open and closed in staggered time with the mouth underneath them. Every so often the persons tongue would poke out and then recede back into its home. Limbs began to twitch and extend, gently turning the body onto its back, and the arms and legs of this person were suddenly splayed out; identifying the person to the world as a male. Eyelids ceased in their attempts to shut out the world and remained open. The arms began to bend at the elbows, as the legs bent at the knees and lift from the hips. Arms clenched and elbows pushed at the ground, placing him into a sitting position. Eyes darted back and forth randomly, as if they were being tested. His breath was incredibly random, his lungs only responding when the most desperate desire for oxygen forced them to work on their own. He craned his neck around slowly looking at what was there, not knowing why. A forceful exhalation resulted in a weak “heh…”. His eyes widened in surprise: half at this newly discovered ability to make noise, the other half due to the realization of the ability to hear.

 

Attempting to make more noise, he responded to his lungs demands and took what he felt was his first sentient breath. As he breathed in, the sensation of pain in his chest decreased, informing him of the concept of pain. He resolved then to breathe more often. He exhaled slowly, afraid the diminishing pain would return. This time the noise was longer “hhhheeeeeehhh…” His lips turned themselves upward; it felt like the right thing to do so he allowed it.

 

He glanced down at his body drinking in every piece of every sensation he could find. He saw his own arm, and the strange thing at its end. “h-h-ha-nd…hand.” He said aloud. The fog in his mind cleared slightly, “a-rm… shul-der… shoulder” The fog receded even more and his mouth began to respond faster, like being roused from a deep sleep. “Body… legs… feet…” a hand came up and caressed his lips. “Face…” He stared at his palm for a moment, turning it over and back again, examining it closely. “Person… self… ME!” The fog suddenly vanished, leaving behind an otherwise blank slate. Language, sensation, and sentience were all he had. It was enough for him to realize he didn't know who he was, where he was, and how he got there. Nothing else existed beyond those few past moments in which he had just awoken.

 

Fear is a trivial thing, really. Most never truly experience the full, raw, uninhibited, irrational terror that stops just short of insanity. People get afraid when they haven't studied for a test, people become afraid when they watch a scary movie, people are afraid when they hear odd sounds at night. But, in the end, they are blessed to not truly know what real fear is.

 

This is what he felt then. As it was the first true emotion he knew himself to be feeling, it was all the worse. Paralyzed with the desire to flee but nowhere to go, he began to cry; not knowing what it was. A cold shiver shot through his body and his head whipped from side to side in a desperate search for something, anything, that could help. A small shadow stood just out of his vision. Pushing at the ground with his hands at first, then his feet in a desperate attempt at motion, he made quick time to it. He had never seen anything before, yet he somehow knew what it was.

 

It was a large traveling backpack, with an umbrella strapped on top of it. He reached out and withdrew it from it's restraints. His arm registered the fact that it was heavy, but his hand and arm manipulated the 150+ pound parasol like it was meant to be served inside a margarita. He placed the top against the ground and pushed himself up, testing his legs for any use. He stood with great difficulty and leaned heavily on his new crutch. With his free hand he reached into the bag and felt around for something else he knew he needed. His fingers brushed something that registered as soft and he quickly removed it from the bag. A set of dirty clothes fell out and it didn't take long for him to discern what they were for. Though it was too dark to see what they looked like

After numerous attempts and a lot of struggling he finally managed to put them on correctly; the ordeal helping to distract his mind from his fear. The soft cloth slowly cutting out the cold, made him aware of temperature. A deep snarling caught his ears and he turned himself around as quickly as he could afford without toppling over. A strange… something stood there. It was covered in short grey hair, had pointy ears, a bushy tail, sharp teeth, and was on all fours.

 

“W-wolf…?” He said aloud. With a earsplitting howl it leaped into the air, flying at him with the full intent to kill.

 

The sound of flesh tearing, a spray of blood, a cry of pain, and a loud thud soon followed. The boy stood there, breathing heavily and his eyes, crazed and bloodshot, bulged out of his head. Deep crimson blood stained his already soiled clothing; it followed the course of his arm as it crossed in front of him and ran down the umbrella. Some filling the inside, the rest slowly dripping onto the ground as he held the weapon at the end of it's swinging arc, his body was leaning forward slightly in a combat position that came more naturally to him than anything else so far.

 

Suddenly he lost control of his breathing; it sped up no matter what he did to keep it even. His mind began to swim in confusion as the fear began to well up inside him once again. The tears came back, and flowed down his face faster than his breathing, mixing with a cold sweat that seemed to be forming everywhere on his body.

“W… what am I?“ he struggled to say as sobs began to rack his body, “Who am I?” Panic, fear, confusion and sadness all swirled together inside him and overran his entire being. He felt as if he would collapse, and reached back and placed his hand upon the bag for support. Suddenly a scream rang through the trees, somewhere in the distance. Most would be even more afraid; he almost felt joy under everything else he was experiencing, because it sounded more like him than the wolf had. It was a human scream. Without a second thought he clenched the top of the bag and took off running towards the sound, all the emotion inside him licked at his heels and drove him onward towards what he felt could be his only salvation as he ran for all he was worth towards the scream in the night.

 

============

 

Juronai snapped upwards from his bedding, sending an empty ceramic cup used for dye and two brushes skidding across the floor. Holding his breath, he listened intently, waiting to see if the noise would repeat itself. What he heard, however, was the sound of tired footsteps shuffling down the hallway. The sliding paper door slid open violently, banged against the wall breaking the frame, and fell to the floor. “DANnniT Jurone'! You havin' nightmares agin!” His father yelled at him in a sleep deprived/drunken/hungover state of mind. “Yah FUUgin wokE mi uppagin! hOW mNay timesss dew I hafta tel ya to kEEp yer screamin' to yaself you weaking!” He violently slurred, drool and vomit remnants running down his chin.

 

“But it wasn't me fath… Sir.” He said, his eyes downcast, knowing it was hopeless.

 

“YoU takiN bAc!” His father yelled, stepping forward in a rage, stepping on the recently relocated dye cup; breaking it. “yyyeeEEOWWWW!” His father screamed, lifting his foot and hopping on his good foot; unable to maintain his balance. “Sir! Be careful you might…” Juronai's prediction came true before he finished speaking it as he watched his father loose his balance during a hop and shove himself into the wall behind him.

 

"BAM!"

 

The wall bent inward only slightly, and his fathers head took most all the force. He fell into a sitting position and then tipped over onto his side. Five seconds later the sound of snoring could be heard emanating from his nasal cavity. Juronai stared in disbelief, “That won't help his headache in the morning.” He hauled himself to his feet, discarding the numerous pieces of cloth that covered his legs. All of them were stained with the same color ink in nonsensical and uneven patterns. Yet all of them had been modeled after the same masterwork Indigo painting mounted on the wall. Being careful to avoid the shattered cup and stepped behind his father and grabbed him under his armpits. Flexing his legs he began to try and drag his father back to his room, with absolutely no success. Straining and groaning for all he was worth, all he managed to do was remind himself why he was unfit to be the warrior his father expected him to be. `I hope he gets over his hangover before he remembers that I quit my training.' Suddenly his feet slipped out from under him and the force of his pulling his father served to yank him into the ground even harder. His head cracked against the oak floors as the stars erupted outward in a second big bang one inch away from his nose.

 

Slowly he sat up once again, rubbing the back of his head and trying to uncross his eyes. Rising to his feet again he lifted his fathers body, locked his legs and once again pulled for all he was worth, slowly his fathers body began to slide along the floor…

 

============

 

Jun'ko wasn't sleeping, he wasn't sure if he ever would again. Not to say he hadn't been trying. He had tried every trick he had ever learned to put his body to rest. Everything from light sleep to having himself knocked unconscious by a rather large rock. Although it would seem that it hadn't been large enough. As it was, he found himself sitting against the wall of his one room house, in his undergarments, staring across the room towards the other wall at a crudely drawn picture of the demon that now controlled his village dieing numerous simultaneous and horrific deaths. “If that freak thinks he can just walk in here and steal away from me all I've had to fight for all these years, then he must have less brain power than a man with no head!” He spoke toward the picture.

His gaze drifted upwards toward the ceiling as he lost himself in thought. He poured over and over the fight that his men had related to him; the ones who could still currently talk, anyway.

 

“There is a flaw in there somewhere; I just have to find it! Then maybe I can…!” A scream ripped through the village and made him jerk to his feet in shock. His mind raced through a map of the village, pinpointing the origin of the shrill cry.

 

A wicked gin curled up the right side of his lips as he realized where it had come from. “The headmen's house!” He grinned `If I can catch him doing something evil, then the villagers will force him out, and I won't have to do a thing!' His hand shot out and ripped a blazing torch from it's holder in the wall before throwing the door open and breaking into a flat run towards the headmen's house; yelling with glee “The demon's killing someone and I'm gonna' catch him!”

 

============

 

Torchlight streamed in through the cracks of window cover-boards as Juronai felt his fathers body starting to slide along the floor.

 

“… demon's killing someone…!” the carrier of the torch cried out as he ran past.

Juronai didn't even stop to think, someone was insulting the name of his new idol and they had to be proved wrong. He dropped his current load and ran back into his room, ripping the cover-boards from the window, leapt through the hole in a motion he wasn't aware he was capable of and took off after the torchlight.

 

============

The girl stared out the window in disbelief, “What just happened…?” She said aloud, thinking that if it was a dream that some noise would wake her up. She walked up to her window and gazing out trying to locate… whatever he was. `No human could tear a demon in half with his bare hands.' Scanning the yard, then the animal pens, then the fields leading up to the forest.

 

Nothing

 

`He might come back…” She turned around, snatched her clothes up from the floor and threw them on hastily. She stepped halfway out the door and paused, turning around she went to the corner of the room to the left of the window. Kneeling down she pulled a shallow board out of the floor revealing a secret compartment. Withdrawing the contents she replaced the cover and held the item to her heart for a moment. It was a kodachi style short sword. Long, thin, straight, double edged, and clearly the work of a master. A second later she was out the door and heading down the stairs.

 

============

 

Jun'ko had managed to rouse a small group of townspeople as he ran and they were almost to the headmen's residence. A building he had called home not a half a day ago. “Okay, here's what will happen!” He spoke loudly, addressing the crowd. That monster is harming someone in there, I'm gonna' go in there and haul his ass out here. Then you three,” he pointed to a group of three men who were wrestling over a blanket after realizing how cold it was. (they weren't listening) “… go in there and grab whoever it was that was screaming.” He commanded in a firm tone, they still weren't listening.

 

Just then, Juronai came staggering forward; clearly exhausted. “y…y…you can't…can't just…” he struggled to speak. But as good as it sounded in his head, his mouth refused to form the word's; giving Jun'ko a perfect dramatic opening. Shoving the torch into Juronai's hand he stepped back and struck a dramatic pose. Silhouetted against the firelight he forgot all about the fact someone might be in mortal danger in the house behind him and began improvising a speech that would help add to the possibility of his reinstatement. He had also forgotten that he was in his underwear. Just like someone else had been when they ran outside. While not near as muscular as Ryoga, Jun'ko was still well above average fitness. And in the dark, with a torch in front of him, it would be hard to make anything out from behind him.

 

“… has fooled us all and I…!” Jun'ko broke off his words abruptly as a long silver blade erupted from his lower right abdomen. A spurt of blood preceded it and spattered onto Juronai's face. They both stared for a moment, and then Jun'ko screamed.

 

The blade receded quickly following the scream and Jun'ko spun around to meet his attacker, he saw an opening and swung for it. His fist connected with a face and the body was sent sprawling onto the grass. “I'll get you for that!” He leaped forward and landed atop his assailant. Grabbing the persons shoulder he forced it to the ground uncovering the owners face. His other hand balled into a tight fist and pulled as far back as it could go. “You'll pay you…” They both froze in surprise, for a moment neither said anything.

 

Then the girl broke the silence, “Could you get off me Jun'ko?” He just stared for a few minutes longer, he eventually managed to stammer out one word.

 

“Satsuki?”

 

============

 

Juronai was worried, very worried. His only clothes were covered in paint, mud, blood, and sweat. Jun'ko seemed to have gone mad for revenge against Onimori-sama. His father would wake up nursing a hangover, a gash on his foot, a head wound… `Oh great!' he thought, 'I just dropped him in the hallway.' What else? Oh yes, his only son had given up his warrior training to paint. “I'm not gonna' walk straight for a week with all he's gonna' do to me.” A strong wind picked up suddenly and muted the light of his torch. `Better find it and get in before its to late!'

 

He walked slowly along the inside of the animal pens; having to peel his feet out of the mud with every step. Scanning the field quickly with his eyes he found no traces of life outside the covered pens. “Guess a storm is coming.” Entering the covered area he looked around more intently. “Now where…”

 

“BWWEEEEEE!”

 

Juronai glanced left and right, trying to identify the source of the strange noise. A sudden rubbing sensation on his ankle made him jump backward, tripping on a sleeping foal. His arms splayed upwards as he fell backwards into a trough of stagnant water. The container tipped forward and its contents were dumped onto him. The moldy, stale, cloudy, spit-ridden liquid flowed down his throat and forced its way into his nose. He came up sputtering and coughing, lifting the wooden receptacle as he rose. The mother of the foal, who wasn't happy with his close contact to her child; raised her left-rear leg and shot it out in his general direction.

 

“Oh…!” was all he managed to say as the stallions hoof smashed through the trough, deadening the blow somewhat, before connecting with his chest and throwing him outside the mini-stable. He landed with a splat onto the muddy ground, and just laid there, staring at the cloudy sky.

 

“Bweee…?” Juronai could only turn his eyes to look. There, next to his head, sat a small black piglet. If he hadn't known better, he would have said it looked concerned. He slowly lifted his hand…

 

============

 

Jun'ko kneeled next to the fire pit in the main room of the house. A slowly growing fire was underway, and a large spherical pot with a small flat section on it's bottom was suspended above the pit by way of a handle that arced from one side of it to another; placed inside a small hook at the end of a long pole attached to the ceiling. Someone from the village, he didn't consider worth remembering, was wrapping a bandage around his abdomen. Aside from some twinges of pain, Jun'ko's expression was all but impossible to read. Confused, excited, dejected, annoyed, the list just kept going and his muscles had stopped trying a long time ago. “So… that's hoOOOWWw it is. You were just laying there when that demon with the bandana tried to rape you. Then he pretended to freak out so he could sneak a peak at your… your… y'know…, and then you kicked him away. He landed on the other side of the room, and ran out through the window. Then he just disappeared?”

 

Satsuki sat facing him from the other side of the pit; the hastily built fire adding some feeling of safety from the man who had just given her her most recent bruise. It sat high on her cheek, slowly swelling up and turning a dark blue. Her kodachi, replaced in its sheath and still stained with Jun'ko's blood, was being held against the small of her back between her old kimono and its waistcloth. “Yes.”

 

Jun'ko stared, “That's all you have to say?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Nothing else you want to talk about?”

 

“No.”

 

A small vain began to appear on his forehead. “Nothing you want to apologize for?”

 

“No.”

 

He reached up, stroking his wound through the wrapping, accidentally opening it up even further.

 

“Maybe you are forgetting something?” He said intently.

 

Satsuki raised her eyes to look directly at him for the first time since their encounter outside. “Why would I apologize for something I don't regret?”

 

He leaped up fiercely, agitating his wound even more. “Now listen you little…!”

 

The front door slid open and two of the cover-boards fell foreword to bang against the ground. Juronai stepped in, obviously angry and very tired. A small trickle of blood ran down the corner of his mouth. “Find anything, reject?” Juronai fumed but avoided eye contact and held up a small squirming bag. “Yes… sir. It kept trying to get away so that's why…” “No one cares!” Jun'ko yelled, snatching the bag out of his hand. He tossed it to Satsuki without looking away from the younger (and much weaker) person in the area whom he could freely vent his rage onto. “Now get out of here you pathetic little half-wit. So she can make me some dinner in peace.”

 

The younger man's hands balled into fists, but he knew better than to attack. “If I'm just a half-wit, and you lost control of this village because of what I said, then what does that say about you.” He knew better than to attack physically anyway. “Why you little!” Jun'ko balled his fist and punched Juronai in the solar-plexus as hard as he could. Blood became visible through the cloth around his abdomen. Satsuki stared intently, milling over what she had just heard `Lost control of the village! To who? And how did he get control of it in the first place!” She quickly rose to her feet and crossed the room, stopping just behind Jun'ko. Quickly she pulled her blade, scabbard and all, from behind her and jabbed his wound through its wrap. His body quickly stiffened as he caught a yelp of pain before it escaped his throat. He turned his head and glared daggers at the girl.

“I never said anything about cooking for you, now get out.” She said in a flat but nonetheless commanding tone.

 

Juronai sat up grinning, “Heh, I forgot you don't know how to feed yourself. Does your mother help you get dressed in the morning too?” `Where is all this coming from!' he thought to himself. Jun'ko walked up to him quickly, spat the words “You should learn to hold your tongue” at him, and kicked him in the jaw, forcing him back down. He stared down into the boys face as it contorted in pain. “And in case you didn't catch that!” He firmly stomped on the boy's chest with great pleasure as he felt and heard the air being driven from his lungs. With that he turned and started back home, glancing back over his shoulder to yell back “I figured since you will be eventually cooking all my meals for me, you would want to start practicing now!” With that, he was gone.

 

The young boy was once again lying on the ground, in pain. In the back of his mind a small voice calmly explained to him that it was entirely his fault that he was in this current situation. `You know how he reacts when provoked. What did you think was going to happen? What the heck possessed you to say those things anyway, I can assure you that nothing came outta' this end.' He sat up slowly with a groan, gingerly rubbed his jaw, and forced himself to his feet.

 

“I have some things I need to ask you,” Satsuki said quietly, “Come back tomorrow, if you can.” He nodded meekly in reply and turned away to head home. Groaning in pain from his injury, which flowed into a moan of dismay as he realized that he still had to drag his fathers body back to his bedroom. All in all, it wasn't a very good night for him.

 

============

 

Satsuki watched the small boy go for a moment, then slid the door closed again, and replaced the boards. Making sure to brace them closed at their base with some spare pieces of kindling, hopefully it would keep them from being knocked down so easily. The wooden lid atop the pot started dancing as the boiling broth began trying to escape. Replacing the kodachi, and resuming her place by the fire, she felt a tug in her hand and remembered that she was still holding the bag that the boy had given her. It was still squirming madly. “Feisty.” She commented without batting an eye. Gently she moved the lid from her pot aside, opening the way for the main ingredient. With her free hand she pried the small bag open and swiftly took hold of the contents; and it suddenly calmed down. Pulling the bag away, she glanced only halfheartedly at what she would soon be eating. It was a small, black piglet wearing a yellow leopard-printed bandana around its neck. “How did you get that on?” Her nimble fingers made quick work of the knot. It seemed to not have been untied in years. With her left hand she discarded the cloth, and with her right she negligently tossed the piglet into the pot, sliding the lid closed before it was entirely immersed.

 

The lid exploded outward in a spray of scalding-hot soup. The pole and hook were ripped out of the ceiling and dropped onto the fire. And a tall, well worked, extremely muscular, and completely naked young adult flew out of the top, screaming in pain. His skin dark red and spotted with numerous scars, he fell onto his face and began kicking his foot madly as it was stuck in a piece of metal that was all that remained of the pot, and the only piece that still retained some water. It suddenly flew across the room and banged against the wall, soaking an old ink painting, the ink quickly began to run and a second later the picture tore itself in half.

 

Satsuki wasted no time in leaping up and ran for the door. Grabbing the boards roughly, she pried at them for all she was worth with no results. In shock she glanced down and saw that because of her recent attempts at escape had lodged the spare pieces of wood even further into the slats. Looking behind her, she realized the demon was now staring straight at her. Desperately she nearly tore her kodachi from its scabbard and began stabbing at the kindling impediment.

 

Ryoga had nearly been cooked as someone's dinner, again. Secretly he was glad that it was hot water that changed him back, if it was the other way around then he would have been someone's dinner years ago. He glanced around and saw that the same girl he had run into twice previously that day was stabbing at something against the wall. He stood up and walked quickly and (unintentionally) silently over to her. Glancing down and over her shoulder he saw that her victim was a piece of wood. His eyebrow poked up and he opened his mouth to speak…

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Her head jerked back in shock and she whirled around to stab him in the stomach. The knifes pointy end contacted with his body between the second and third abdominal-muscles on his right side, giving him no more than a paper cut. Satsuki was shocked, so was Ryoga. “Why did…?” Satsuki shot up, this time aiming for his face. The action of moving his head to dodge was so incredibly simple for him, he hardly realized he had done it.

The girl became frustrated and even more afraid. Pulling her hand back, and yelling with rage and terror, she began stabbing wildly at his upper body; desperate to hit something vital.

 

Ryoga was surprised at the blades quality; if she was any stronger he might actually have been in trouble. As it was, he hated paper cuts, and he seemed to be collecting a lot of them. On her next upswing his hand shot up and caught her wrist. She might as well have had her wrist bound in solid titanium, because it wasn't moving. She paused for a moment and then began pounding on his chest with her free hand. He caught this other hand as easily as the first and stepped back to lead her away from the wall. Fate, it seemed, placed a puddle of water underneath his foot, and he was sent sprawling backwards; forgetting to let go, the girl was dragged with him. His head banged against the floor a second before her knife stuck into the floorboards with a dull thunk five inches from his head. They both stared at each other for a moment. Reddish-brown gazed intently into grayish-blue as each waited for the other to make the next move. It was Ryoga's eyes turn to widen in surprise, as he remembered that he was completely naked.

 

Forgetting everything else he let go of her to grasp wildly for his bandana as some form of clothing. Seizing the opportunity, she rolled off of him and ran for the door again.

Faster than most would think possible; Ryoga removed several layers of his bandana, unfolded them with inhuman speed, and wrapped them around his waist like a loincloth. Seeing that the girl was running for the door again, he reached for her quickly grabbed a handful of her kimono and pulled her back towards him. She thrashed wildly as her body fell into his lap. Without knowing why, he wrapped his left arm around hers and reached across to grab her right, gently pinning them both down…

 

`No No NO NO NO!' Her mind screamed as she struggled for all she was worth. `Not here! Not again!' She suddenly couldn't move her arms, and began to cry.

 

Suddenly his other hand reached up and began gently stroking her hair while he gently whispered “Shhhh… its okay… no one is going to hurt you.” again and again. Not letting her go, but not forcing anything upon her either. Her tears of fear were washed away in a torrent of tears of the pain that had been her life for the past uncountable amount of years. Loosing control of herself, she slowly stopped struggling and felt as if she would melt into his impossibly firm body as she was carried away in a river of memories from her past life. The life that she had before the pain, before she had shut everything away.

 

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Torrential rain ripped at the ground and mercilessly pounded at the walls of their house as an evil wind threatened to tear the home right out of its foundations. Thunder pounded the earth like explosions, and lightning raked across the sky like dragons threatening to tear the earth asunder. A young girl of maybe eleven or twelve kicked and thrashed as she tied to escape to nowhere and anywhere. Her reddish-brown eyes were puffy and bloodshot from crying, and her blonde and gold hair had partially torn loose from its lacquered-chopstick pins, and hung down over her face. Her older brother held her firmly in his lap, and gently stroked her hair while whispering reassuring words into her ear. Pulling the rest of her hair free and holding her closer to him, he felt her begin to relax. “It may sound scary, but that's all it can do is scare you if you let it. Just go to sleep, I promise that when you wake up it will all be better.”

 

The young Satsuki forced her fears from her mind as she was instructed and just let her self go. Within minutes, she was fast asleep, and miles away from anything that could possibly harm her.

 

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“Big Brother…”

 

The even rate of her breath, and drying eyes assured Ryoga that she had fallen asleep once again. “What the heck is with the people in this town? They all seem to think they're living in the feudal era or something.” He started to carry her to the room he first saw her in, but thought better of it. “If I tried to take her someplace now, there's no telling where I'd end up.” Gently he slid her over to the fire, brushing aside the spare scraps of metal and throwing more wood onto the fire. “Better wait for her to wake up so I can explain this whole mess.” Setting himself against the far wall of the room, he steeled himself for another long night. `Come to think of it, I haven't slept for a week. Or maybe I have? How long was I in that well? And I still don't know… what happened… to… that… hut I…' “ZZZZZZZZZ.” He too fell into a deep sleep, and dreamt that he lived for many years in a home of happiness and peace; a small gift, from a universe that gave him no rest.

 

Author's Notes

 

Holy dang this chapter is getting long. I keep writing, but I never get to the ending I had planned. Anyway, Dorkboy6666 won't leave me alone (you know who you are FATTY!), so I decided to just cut it off here and make this a two-parter. It just won't go where I want it to GO! Anyway, time for shoutouts.

 

Pariah2: I don't know if you have read this since the first time, but you were the first one to review. For that you have my thanks. If you are keeping up with this story, I hope you are enjoying it!

 

Jessica Turner: Your writing inspired mine, and continues to drive me onward. Thank you very much. Here's hoping all your wounds will eventually be healed! ;)

 

Psycho Pirate the Nth: Ummmm… thanks? I guess… Just what is the “Mary Sue” side of the fic anyway? Does anyone around here know?

 

Dairokkan: I apologize for insulting you in a previous version.

 

How will Ryoga explain the situation to this lost child. What did Jun'ko mean when he talked about Satsuki cooking for him? Will Ryoga figure out where he is, and who is this strange person with no past. (Yeah, I know it sounds cliche, just give it time to develop. It's an original idea. It's ORIGINAL dangit.)More to come in the kinda-exciting conclusion of Chapter 3: Anger, Fear, Wounds, and Words!