Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Lost Boy Chronicles ❯ Lost Boy: Led Astray ( Chapter 2 )

Title: Leaving Never Never Land: The Story of “The Lost Boy”

Parts: 2 of ?

Rating: Don't know. Will probably get to R

Pairing: None yet. Ryoga/Kuno

Warnings: It's yaoi There's some violence. Still don't know exactly what to put here.

Disclaimers: I still don't own Ranma 1/2 or any of the characters. I still wish I did. I'm still not doing this for money either. So don't bother trying to sue me, because I have no money what-so-ever.

Notes: ~Indicates thought~ “indicates speech”

Feedback: Please. I'll beg you to give it to me if I have to

 

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Chapter 2: Lost Boy - Led Astray

 

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Ryoga watched the gang disappear into the alleyways. He stared after them, mind racing. He had just made a total fool of himself. It had been a miracle that the gang had even understood him.

 

Looking down at the slip of paper, he felt tears in his eyes. This had to be a dream. That had to be it. He was still curled up somewhere, fast asleep. Soon morning would come, and this would be all over. Surveying the dirty streets, he was happy the nightmare would finally be done.

 

Ryoga mentally slapped himself. It was close to afternoon. He was very awake. The cold wind blowing around loose trash would soon usher in winter and harder times. Most of all, the paper in his hand was read. The numbers scrawled on it pointed towards some mysterious place. The black ink was a map to something new. It lead to a place of belonging.

 

Ryoga wanted to belong. More than serving in this desolate place he wanted a place that was securely his own. So far, there had been no place for Ryoga outside of Never Never land. In the real world, he would never belong. It really wouldn't matter if he joined Tarou or not. Party or no party, he would always be Ryoga, the “Lost Boy.” Lost and alone.

 

He blinked, coming out of his self-pity. Lord only knew how long he had stood there. He looked to the sky again. ~Half a day wasted!~ He chided himself. Most of the day gone and Ryoga still hadn't decided if he was joining Tarou. More pressing, he didn't know where he was supposed to go. Clenching the already crumpled paper, Ryoga again looked at the address. “Might as well.” He sighed to himself.

 

Ryoga started walking through the streets. He knew this part of town. He paid little attention to his surroundings. He knew that around there everything looked alike. Similar dirty alleyways passed again and again.

 

He was so used to the sights that Ryoga almost didn't notice the pavement change. He stopped, bathing in the faint glow of a street light. He watched a Mercedes drive by. Ryoga looked up at the light and then down to the clean pavement and manicured lawns. In the back of his mind he knew he'd left his side of town.

 

Giant houses stood lined up. Each one was more glaringly beautiful and well kept than the next. Plush green lawns held children's forts and Power Wheels. The cars in the driveways put the toys to shame. All of it was nauseatingly rich.

 

Ignoring his surroundings as much as possible, Ryoga continued. He was relieved that the inhabitants were inside having feasts or watching cable on big screen televisions. He knew that if he was seen, the people in the houses would bring every cop in the area down on his ears.

With all the richness surrounding him, Ryoga was starting to think that Tarou had played him for a fool. He wouldn't put it past Tarou to do something like that. He was willing to bet money - if he had any - that there wasn't even a house. In his mind he could picture Tarou and the rest of those jerks laughing so hard they were crying.

 

“Yeah, that's' right.” He hissed to the coming night. “Go ahead and laugh. What a great joke to pull on poor stupid Ryoga!” He wadded up the paper and tossed it at the nearest wall. He watched it hit the brass plate set into the brick. Grabbing the paper on it's rebound, he started to smile.

 

“135 Richman Lane. Tatewaki residence.” He read. “Same place all right.” He climbed over the wall and dropped to the other side.

 

Ryoga approached the truly massive dwelling with awe. It was two, possibly three stories. The outside color scheme was tasteful if a bit staunch. It was all white with splashed of color here and there to draw the eye. One splash of color caught Ryoga's attention immediately.

 

Bright blue curtains opened wide to show a well lit room. Once he was closer to the bay window, he could see a fluted wine glass and single plate on an immense table. By the looks of it, whoever lived inside wasn't expecting company.

 

Idly, Ryoga wondered at what kind of person would live in such a large place alone. He pictured a very old man. This man would be balding with one of those annoying mustaches, and an even more annoying voice. This man would demand that his servants called him “Master”. He would be so bent with age that he appeared to be three feet tall.

 

Ryoga was brought out of his thoughts when a figure entered the room. This man was no “Master Happosia.” He was young, probably twenty. He was wearing a blue robe that looked to be silk. This boy sat at the table and for a moment looked straight at Ryoga. Ryoga made brief eye contact before dropping to the grass to hide.

 

Inside, the young man continued to stare out the window. he was lonely. So lonely he thought he had seen a face outside. Vainly, he wished the bandana'd figure was real. But he knew that couldn't be. Just like he knew that his father wouldn't come in and declare, “Kuno, I've decided that I'm giving up business to spend time with my boy..”

 

Kuno Tatewaki knew that this would never be. His father would remain on his never ending business trip in Hawaii. Sometimes, he wished he had been invited to tag along. Not that he would have gone.

 

He settled down to the task of eating. Every once-in-a-while Kuno glanced up to see if the figure would re-appear. The phantom boy remained blessedly absent. In his place was a girl with stark white hair.

 

Dropping his fork, he again took a look. Five punks were lounging around on his lawn. He didn't like the looks of them. He recounted. Six. He had missed the one hiding on the ground. It seemed that the gang hadn't noticed him either.

 

Calmly, Kuno left the dining room. In the adjacent hall he picked up the phone. As he was dialing, sounds from the front of the house were beginning to disturb him. He knew that the gang from outside was trying to come in.

 

Silently, he counted the rings. He thanked God when hr heard an answer. “Hello 911? some punks are breaking into my house.” Kuno saw the door swing open to admit four very violent teenagers. He was beginning to worry. The other two were missing. Noting that, he started to pray. Maybe God might here him, and send him some help soon.

 

Ryoga chose that moment to stand once more. Looking back into the room he noted that there was no one there. The young man in blue was gone. He let out a smile of relief when he heard a voice behind him. It made him jump. “Hey Lost Boy! Glad you could make it.”

 

Ryoga struggled to breath again. It was just Tarou. Just Tarou standing over him, smirking. It took all of his waning restraint to not beat Tarou into a bloody pulp. Instead he laughed. It was laced with hostility. Ryoga's laugh had all the charm of a car crash.

 

Tarou ushered him to the front of the house. The door was open. Ryoga was sure it hadn't been that way earlier. He shoved the wrongness to the back of his head. Instead, he watched Tarou combing through the house. It occurred to Ryoga that the boy was taking a lot of valuable things.

 

They soon met up with the rest of the gang. The four of them were trying to push a large door open. There was a phone off the hook on the carpeted floor. The dial tone was clear. “Lost Boy, help us out here. That rich guy locked himself in there.” Herb pointed at the door. “He won't play with us.”

 

Ryoga wasn't so sure of this anymore. To him, it didn't look like fun. It looked like a scene from a very long time ago. Only the house had been his and bad things had happened. He had a feeling that bad things were going to happen again, weather or not he helped out. In his head, he distanced himself from what he was doing. He pushed away the sick satisfaction of the door buckling under him. He ignored the comments from Tarou's gang.

 

Kuno watched the door splinter inwards. He also noticed that there had been one person required to do the job. That boy had a bleak look in his olive green eyes. He almost had a detached look to him. As if the rest of the gang's celebration meant nothing to him. As if the destruction meant nothing.

 

The sheer strength exuding from the bandana'd boy scared Kuno. Terror ran high whenever he looked at the other boy., even more so than with the rest of the punks. He started to back away slowly. He floundered for a weapon and found none. He had to be content with backing up. Tripping over a chair, Kuno went down. The gang laughed. The bleak boy remained silent.

 

One of the larger teens was over him. “Rich boy, I know you have money. Where is it?” He made a vexed sound when Kuno refused to answer. The boy seemed to dig through his baggy cloths. Then he withdrew his hand. Kuno stared down the hollow barrel in shock. “Still won't tell?”

 

Kuno closed his eyes. He would remain silent. He would die with honor. It was the least he could do. He wondered what the funeral would look like. Kuno hoped there would be roses. He heard the gun go off. He braced himself for the impact. When it didn't come, Kuno's eyes snapped open in surprise.

 

The apathetic boy had the larger guy by the wrist. The gun was pointed straight up. “This isn't a party, is it Mint?” The banadana's boy's voice was cold.

 

Ryoga didn't know why he'd asked that. It was blatantly obvious that he wasn't participating in a party. He needed conformation. Saffron gave him it. “No, you idiot, it's not! Don't you know a robbery when you see one!”

 

His suspicions validated, Ryoga lost control. Inside, an old anger stirred. It was an anger from when Ukyo had been shot down. It was the thing that kept him striving to be the strongest. Now it had a reason to prove that he was.

 

Mint met Ryoga's fist. There was a meaty smack before the larger boy went down. The hand gun rolled from limp fingers. Ryoga was too busy to notice the boy in blue silk pick it up. At the moment he was more concerned about Herb. She had a chair. It splintered as it met Ryoga's temples. He took the blow like it was nothing, putting the girl on the floor next to Mint.

He heard the gun go off again. Lime hit the ground. Ryoga ignored the gaping hole in the other boy's head. He frankly didn't care. It was one less gang member to deal with. He finished re-arranging Saffron's face. Then he turned. Ryoga glared angrily at Tarou. This mess was all his fault. The house, the police cars arriving, is pounding head from Herb's chair. All of it boiled down to Tarou.

 

The gang leader was also angry and very scared. The rich boy now had the gun. It wavered between the Lost Boy and himself. It wasn't the hand gun that scared him. It was Ryoga. Tarou had heard of the other boy's inhuman strength. Personally, he had never believed the stories. That was before tonight. Now he had seen for himself, and he was terrified.

 

It appeared that Ryoga was tiring. Tarou also noted the blood running down the boy's face and soaking into his bandana. the chair had done that. ~Good girl, Herb.~ He thought, watching Ryoga lurch to one side. It was time to take advantage of the situation. Tarou tackled the off balance Ryoga. The other boy wasn't ready for it.

 

Tarou's' momentum carried them trough the large bay window. Ryoga felt the glass shattering around him. Shards ripped him as he fell. His back hit the soft grass. Tarou scrambled off of him and hissed, “I'm going to get you for this, Lost Boy. I swear it.” Then he was gone, leaving Ryoga with the unbearable sounds of the sirens.

 

Panicked, he scrambled to his feet. He quickly glanced at the window. The edges of the jagged glass were stained red. Inside, the rich boy still held the gun. It was pointed directly at him. The situation had become much more than Ryoga bargained for. His rage fled quickly, leaving him exhausted. He collapsed to the ground, welcoming the darkness that came with unconsciousness.

 

Kuno stood in shock. The scruffy teen had attacked the gang. When he had been in desperate need for help, the boy had delivered him. The bandana'd boy was probably not even part of the gang. He was just some stupid kid that got caught up into this mess.

 

It was definitely a mess. The door was off its hinges and splintered in the middle. A broken chair and three bodies lay on the carpet. A pool of blood had formed under one of the bodies. That was Kuno's doing. The rest had been the other young man's handy work. Most glairing of all was the shattered window. The boy had done that too, indirectly.

 

He had been surprised when the one boy had run away and the other had stood up after both had sailed through the glass. Blood and splinters seemed to glisten in the headlights of the police cars. Kuno was mystified. The boy outside wasn't human. That was the only explanation for what he had witnessed. He felt somewhat disappointed when his guardian angel crumpled to the ground.

 

The police were quick to come inside and talk to Kuno. They seemed to be trying to keep him inside. They took his statement slowly, and showed very little concern. A voice from outside was declaring, “Holy God. This kid's still moving.”

 

Kuno rushed past the officers to stair out the window. True enough, the boy in rags was rising. He did it with very little grace. The boy was almost fully erect when the police swarmed over him. Kuno could hear the indigent yells from under them.

 

Climbing out the window, Kuno made his way to the cluster of officers. “What's going on here?” He demanded, imperially. He got a quick glance at the huddled figure they surrounded. The boy looked scared, confused, and very tired.

 

“We're just removing this trash from your domicile.”

 

“He is not trash!” Kuno roared. He didn't know how the police could call his guardian angel that. “He happens to be my servant.” He was surprised my his own creativity. There was no way that the teen bleeding on his lawn was anything other than a street punk. He had no idea why he was even bothering. Kuno chalked it up to honor. The boy had helped him out, not it was his turn to return the favor. But, he knew there was more to it. There was something about the other boy. But Kuno didn't know exactly what that something was.

 

“So if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to get my butler inside.” Kuno smiled inwardly, listening to the handcuffs unlocking. The idiots believed him.

 

He helped the boy stand and started back towards the house. “You have my statement. Just leave us in peace. Good evening officers.” Kuno slammed the front door and re-locked it.

 

Leaning against it, he sighed in relief. Soon the police would be gone. His visitor, on the other hand was in no condition to leave. The boy had passed out one again, slumping on the cold marble floor. Kuno shook his head. He just couldn't leave the boy there. He dragged the unconscious teen into the parlor. Once the boy was situated, Kuno called his personal physician.

 

Kuno was starting to worry. the seconds ticked by. The other boy's face had gone pale. He was starting to feel cold to the touch. Kuno went up stairs and came back quickly with a blanket. he didn't care if it got all bloody. he was worried that his doctor would arrive too late. That thought spurred him into trying to clean the cuts and abrasions. It was a slow, gory process. Kuno was just about to peel off the blood soaked bandana when the doctor arrived.

 

Dr. Tofu had been Kuno's doctor for many years. His judgment was infallible in Kuno's mind. The doctor took a fleeting glance at the house and said nothing. He quietly allowed himself to be led. In the parlor, he went straight to work. Blessedly, the boy hadn't lost as much blood as Kuno had first thought.

 

The doctor finished and looked at his long time client. “I don't know what happened here, and I don't think I want to. It's a damned miracle that this guy has so few injuries.”

 

“Thank you, Dr. Tofu. I hope you will be discrete about this.”

 

“You know me. Never saw a thing. make sure he eats. And don't worry. he'll be out of your hair in a matter of days.” The doctor packed his things and left. Kuno could hear him muttering, “Strangest thing I've ever seen. A blow to the head like that one would have killed a normal man. I hope Kuno knows what he's getting into, collecting this stray.”