Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Chained World: The Fall of the House of Kuno ❯ Reaping the Whirlwind ( Chapter 57 )

I originally published under the name Anduril at Anime Addventures, with the only changes being a few corrections in spelling, punctuation and the occasional word choice. If you like the beginning of my story but think I've gone off the rails, or have your own ideas for a great branch-off, or think I'm taking too long to update and want to continue the story yourself, come to Anime Addventures and join in the fun!

I claim no ownership rights to any of the works of Rumiko Takahashi, or anyone else's published work.

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In the command center, Kuno sat bolt upright as every light went out and the roar of the mob coming over the speakers cut off. As stunned silence filled the room, Kuno stared at his monitor screen — and the silent image of charging rioters frozen still. Hastily, Nerima's lord rose to his feet, adjusting his katana and wakizashi. “My computer has frozen, what is happening?” he demanded, looking around a room lighted by what little was shining from the monitors.

For a moment no one answered, then a murmur raced through the room: “My computer's frozen, too!” “Mine as well.” “Same here!”

A sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, Kuno asked, “Does anyone have a functioning console?”

Silence.

“Do we yet have the ability to communicate with our faithful defenders?”

More silence.

Slowly, Kuno turned toward his steward and Master of Servants. “Pyo-kun, what do you believe has happened?”

Pyo straightened from where he'd been leaning over a frantically typing Morimasa and walked over to flip a switch on the wall by the door. As dim emergency lighting filled the room, he turned to face his lord, face unreadable. “My lord, Nabiki-san must have somehow slipped an attack program into our system,” he said with forced calm. “I don't know how she could have — our people have seen her work and she simply isn't good enough to get through our defenses, no one is. And even if some ronin is good enough, she doesn't have the funds to afford him. But somehow she did it, and our entire network is frozen. We will need to take it all down and reboot with backups at once — Morimasa-kun and I have already tried rebooting an individual system and it failed — but that will take time, more time than we have. And our communications route through our `net, so that is gone as well. As well, I cannot believe that only our computers are affected, what is the point in blinding us if our automated defenses still function?”

“The safe rooms?”

“Their computers are in the same shape as ours, of course, but otherwise they are fine. If you will remember, the locks on the main entrances and escape tunnels are mechanical, not electronic, and all ventilation and lighting are powered by their own individual generators. They will have no difficulty waiting until our security forces from other facilities arrive.”

“The Family shrine?”

Pyo glanced over his shoulder at a panel of green studs alongside his frozen console. “The automatic barriers report closing when the order was issued for everyone to seek the safe rooms, the Family shrine will remain isolated until the network is restored and the password-protected order sent.”

“Excellent.” Kuno glanced around the room. I have been reacting to the press of events, swept away by the flood rather than directing the flow. It is time for that to change. “Is there any here that does not have the layout of the mansion committed to memory?” When no one spoke up, he strode over to a console close to the entrance whose frozen monitors showed the mansion floor plans with the green dots representing the estate's defenders. “Everyone gather around,” he ordered. To the first retainer to step up next to him, he pointed to the scattering of green dots at the doors closest to the mob. “Even with our defenses down, it will take my sadly deceived subjects some time to get over the estate walls. I want you to seek out our valiant defenders in this part of the mansion and order them to evade if you are so fortunate as to arrive before my poor people, or break contact with them if not. They are to continue to avoid contact even if it means leaving the estate grounds. As soon as you have done so, return here.”

Two quick-witted retainers had opened the doors as Kuno had been speaking, and the first retainer left the command center at a run as the next stepped up beside her lord. Kuno continued pointing out other groups of defenders close to the mob and issuing the same orders until he was alone in the command center except for his steward and the Master of Servants.

As the last of the retainers dashed out of the center, Kuno turned to face two of his three chief subordinates, gripping the hilts of his two blades, and strode over to stand a few yards away from the pair. Pyo's face was blank, but the confused expression on the face of the steward forced a bitter chuckle from his lord. “You have a question, Morimasa-kun?” he asked.

“I ... I ...” Taking a deep breath, Morimasa asked, “My lord, why aren't we defending our home from the mob?”

As you told the one heading our valiant defenders at the government building, it is but a building. If my people reduce this our home to nothing to a charred frame, our people will be safe, the family shrine will survive, and we have the wealth to rebuild an uncountable number of new estates — but preventing that destruction is not worth the cost of a single member of that mob when their cause is just.”

Ignoring the stunned shock on Morimasa's face, Kuno turned to face the Master of Servants. “Tell me, Pyo-kun, just how many of my people did you slaughter when you ordered the annihilation of the Sorcerer Saotome's foreign supporters?”

“My lord? Why do —”

Kuno chopped off his question with a savage gesture before returning his hand to his katana's hilt. “Do not think me the fool, Master of Servants! When I saw the larger number of your people were returning from the Tendo compound — more than were reported to me as having been assigned the defense of my family's heart when combined with those few still here — it was obvious what you felt it necessary to do. Why did you not also feel it necessary to lay out these plans before me, to seek out my own thoughts ... and permission?”

“My lord, I had to order those strikes,” Pyo replied, his expressionless façade beginning to crack as he fought to keep his voice steady. “As soon as it was known that you had ordered us to liberate the glorious Akane from the seed of the monster they supported, they would have swarmed over us to seek to prevent it — and none of our people here except yourself and perhaps your sister could match them. A preemptive strike was the only way.”

“I said not to think me the fool, Pyo,” Kuno said, his own voice cold as steel. “Under the press of events I did not consider this possibility, it is true, but it is obvious enough in retrospect. I would have certainly approved such, however distasteful it would be. But what you knew I would not approve is the deaths of my own people, bystanders innocent of all except being neighbors of my foes or perhaps wishing a repast before making their way home to their families. So I ask again, Master of Servants, how many of my people did you foully murder?”

“I don't know, my lord,” Pyo whispered.

“Nor do I, but I will. But you will not.”

Pyo stared at his lord, the fury in Kuno's eyes, and seemed to shrink. “Very well, my lord,” he said tonelessly, “I have a tanto in my quar —”

The Family blade whispered from its sheath as Kuno swept it across his retainer's stomach in one long smooth draw. Even as Pyo grabbed at the gaping wound cut almost to the backbone, the arcing blade left a half-circle trail of spattered blood across the keyboards and monitors of the consoles along the nearest wall as Kuno swept it back around and cleanly through the Master of Servant's neck. Pyo's head fell away to bounce and roll into the center of the room.

Morimasa yelped as blood from the spilling, gaping stomach wound of the collapsing corpse splashed across his legs, then turned and bent over as his excellent dinner joined the spreading red on the floor.

Kuno turned to avoid embarrassing his steward by watching. He pulled out a cloth and wiped the blade clean until the sound of retching ceased. Without turning around, he resheathed the katana and said, “Morimasa-kun, in spite of your skill in kendo your responsibilities do not extend to defending my House with your body, and there are no longer any tasks requiring your presence here. Seek your quarters and refresh yourself, then search out a room with a lock on the far side of our domicile from my angry people. Surely, they will not be able to break into every locked room in this sprawling building before our security returns. And if they set our domicile afire, you will have the greatest opportunity to escape both the fire and the people.”

Morimasa straightened. Wiping at his mouth, he said, “No, my lord, I would rather be here.”

“Very well. But seek your quarters to refresh yourself, then return if you wish and time permits.”

“Yes, my lord.” Morimasa bowed toward Kuno's back, then stepped around his lord and walked out of the room, wincing as his house slippers squelched. Behind him, Kuno turned to stare down at the body lying on the floor for a long moment before turning away and striding over to stand in the doorway and stare down the hall as he waited for his retainers to return.

/oOo\

How did my chain end up in the makeup table? ! Usagi mentally wailed as she ran down a hallway, heedless of the rugs covering the floors or the graceful, slender — and fragile — tables placed in intervals along the walls with vases, plates and figurines displayed on their surfaces. It had taken her way too long to find the slave chain now bouncing around her neck, and if she didn't hurry —

The lights in their sconces lining the walls went out, and Usagi abruptly found herself charging through pitch darkness. She desperately tried to stop, her foot hooked one of the rugs covering the floor, and the training that Ranma had laboriously drilled into her over the past weeks took over and turned what would have been a massive belly-flop onto the hardwood floor into a tuck-and-roll. Her screamed “Waaaaaaaaaah!” ended in splintering wood and shattering pottery as her roll took the legs out from under one of the tables. “Owie ...”

The emergency lights came on, and Usagi sat up and stared about her in the dim light, then looked down at the wreckage and blanched at the sight of the shattered remains of one of the priceless Ming vases brought back from China when the first Kuno-tono — then simply a samurai — had fought beside his lord in the early Japanese conquests of mainland China and been rewarded for his service by being one of the first samurai elevated to the newly-created status of lord. “Now I'm never gonna get out of debt!” she wailed as she climbed to her feet, before beginning to hiccup in distress.

Closing her eyes against threatening tears, she breathed deeply and fought her hiccups under control. “Okay, first things first,” she said firmly to herself. There was no way she was getting to Ami's safe room now, or any other, for that matter — any that had still been open would have closed up as soon as the power went down. And that meant turning around and going back to Kuno's suite, and seeking shelter in his personal safe room ... all alone. The page-boy-haired blonde turned around and trudged back the way she came, beginning to sniffle. Then a thought struck her, and she brightened up immediately ... maybe, when the power went down, all the security cameras went down with it! She wouldn't have the price of the vase and table added to her debt, after all! The trudge turned into an odd sort of skip-dance as she began singing a cheerful tune recently imported from the United States (by rote, of course, her English studies had been even less of a success than usual).

/oOo\

Matsumoto Hanh sidestepped her mistress's thrusting fist, dropped an arm to redirect a knee aimed at her hip and spun Kodachi about just enough to leave the younger girl open to a short hammering blow to a kidney. Kodachi rode the blow, hopping back to rob it of impact, and her equally short kick slammed into Hanh's gut, knocking her back and off her feet. The ninja rolled backward with her fall, bouncing back to her feet, only to find her mistress had backed up, breaking contact with her shadow for the moment. It was the first pause since Kodachi had begun her desperate fight to leave her quarters, and the two relaxed for a moment as they sucked in air in deep gasps. It had been a brutal fight up to that point, nothing like their spars as all rules had been disregarded. In fact, the only resemblance to their spars was that they both were trying to avoid inflicting permanent damage to each other — which in its own way made it worse, a fight that would have otherwise been over within a minute instead dragging on and on. Her mistress had learned her lessons in unarmed combat well.

As she slowly brought her breathing down from gasps to deep breaths, Hanh watched as Kodachi carefully avoided paying attention to a spot on the wall above a small table less than six feet away. Yes, little princess, seek out your smuggled powders, Hanh thought, hiding a smile. That might actually work out — Hanh had begun replacing the tiny, easily ruptured bags with harmless flour as soon as she'd found her mistress's hidden cubbyhole, but she hadn't had the chance to switch the latest batch out yet, so if her mistress —

The lights went out.

In the suddenly pitch black room without even moonlight from the steel shutter-covered windows, Hanh instantly threw herself between Kodachi and the hidden cubicle, hands sweeping for contact with the martial gymnast's body — and she stumbled and fell when her reaching hands found nothing but empty air. Tucking into a roll and again bouncing back to her feet, Hanh looked around desperately as the dim emergency lights came on, trying to find her young mistress, and froze. Kodachi was standing on the other side of the room next to her computer desk, the ribbon and one of the clubs that had been leaning against the wall there in her hands.

“You didn't think I'd notice the different texture between flour and my powders?” Kodachi asked, smiling tightly.

Hanh's own smile was rueful. “And I thought I was being clever.”

“Oh, you were,” Kodachi agreed, smile broadening, “just not clever enough.” But her smile quickly faded. “Hanh-chan, please, get out of my way,” she pleaded softly. “You aren't going to hurt me, and I don't want to hurt you.”

Hanh blinked rapidly to keep forming tears from obscuring her vision — she couldn't afford to give her opponent a single edge, as much as Kodachi had proven to have improved over the last few weeks — and shook her head. “No ... Kodachi-chan ... to get to the sub-basement you'll need to get through me.”

Kodachi's shoulders slumped slightly before firming again. “So be it,” she said regretfully, and with no warning at all her club was whirling through the air straight at Hanh's face.

Hanh smiled wistfully as she ducked to the side. The hours she'd spent watching recordings of her mistress's training sessions in her chosen Art were proving their worth (not the competitions, of course, the blatant cheating had made those recordings useless when they took place at all). Yes, the ki-saturated ribbon was whipping in exactly where Hanh would have been if she'd simply sidestepped as usual, perfectly aimed to wrap her up like a Christian Christmas present from the shoulders down to her waist. Instead, thanks to her duck she felt it wrap around her neck a few times before falling down her back, and Hanh twisted slightly, setting herself up for Kodachi's instinctual follow-through.... It came, and Hanh was yanked off her feet, flying toward Kodachi as she felt the shock of her neck snapping run through her. Then she slammed into her mistress's arms, her limp head bouncing against Kodachi's shoulder, her gaze staring at the curve of the Kuno heir's neck. Kodachi's grip shifted as she stumbled back and Hanh found her fading sight looking up at the younger girl's horrified face. Hanh tried to give her friend a reassuring smile. I'm so sorry, Ko-chan, but my honor remains and you are free ...

/\

Kodachi dropped to her knees, Hanh's body in her arms, as she stared down at the open, empty eyes of the friend she'd just killed. She laid Hanh's body on the floor and sat back on her heels, fighting back anguished sobs as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Oh, Hanh, I'm so sorry,” she whispered. She reached out a trembling hand to trace the faint smile on Hanh's lips as her mind replayed the whole horrible scene — whipping out her ribbon, the way Hanh had ducked as she sidestepped, Kodachi's instinctive yank even as that ribbon wrapped around Hanh's neck, the wet crack of her friend's snapping neck as she flew through the air toward her, Hanh's faint smile as she stared up at Kodachi just before the light went out of her eyes forever. She'd smiled....

She did that deliberately! Kodachi thought, bolting to her feet as she thought back again to the odd move that had put Hanh's neck at exactly the right level. Her fists clenched and for a moment she shook with rage until she glanced back down at Hanh, and the smile, and her anger drained away in the face of that still reality. Hanh had paid the ultimate price for her decision without hesitation. Kodachi knelt and gently lifted the body, carrying her friend into the bedroom to lay her out on the bed. “Don't worry, Hanh,” she murmured as she reached down to straighten the head and trace the smile one last time, “if your honor was that important to you, to everyone else it'll simply be a tragic accident. May the Amaterasu you believed in receive you into her court.”

Finally turning away from the body, Kodachi strode back into the main room and over to the hidden cubbyhole Hanh had found earlier. She pushed the hidden button to pop open the panel, then reached in and pulled out the packets stored within and spread them out on the table beneath the panel. A few minutes' examination, more by feel than sight thanks to the dim emergency lighting, and she tucked the few packets that Hanh had missed or hadn't had time to exchange into hidden pockets in the scarf she was wearing in lieu of a belt before walking over and scooping up her ribbon and another club and heading for the door to the rest of the mansion.