Something tickled at Ryouga’s nose.
It wasn’t something he could quickly or easily describe. It was like a scent that was there, and yet wasn’t. He sniffed the air in an attempt to identify it, but had no clue.
Whatever it was, it was getting stronger. He kept on walking in his attempt to find his way back to Akari’s; his girlfriend was probably in need of medical attention.
He’d seen the news. He’d heard the rumors. Also, thanks to his travels, he knew that it had gone far beyond the confines of Japan. Women all over the globe were infected; the panic that ensued looked as though it might ignite the flames of war in parts. He was glad to be back in Japan, at least; the chaos here would be taken with typical Japanese dignity.
Relatively speaking, of course.
He blinked at the house he’d come to, and realized that it looked familiar. He’d come to another home of sorts. He sniffed the air again; the scent was far stronger. He opened the door and called out to the house, announcing his presence.
A dark thought came over him: what had happened to Akane? Was she some horrible beast, or had she been one of the lucky, gifted ones?
A dress came out by itself to greet him; Ryouga blinked. It wasn’t often that dresses floated around all by themselves... “Oh, hello, Ryouga!”
Ryouga blinked as he eyed the seemingly empty space where a girl should be. “A... Akane?”
The same nothing grabbed his hand; he noticed some distortion where it occurred. “Yes, it’s me, Ryouga. “Come on in.” His ears perked at the sound of whispering, a noise that cut off as Akane led him into the living area.
Kasumi sat at one end of the table, her eyes downcast as she sipped her tea. She, at least, hadn’t changed; good ol’ Kasumi looked as normal as ever. Which, of course, probably meant there was something he didn’t know about.
Nabiki sat on one side, a walking example of the money she craved. She wore a blue metallic shirt and black slacks; however, the shine of her shirt had nothing on herself. Her golden eyes smoldered across the table, something unheard clearly having an impact on her mood.
And, across the table...
His jaw dropped; he felt a tingle across his skin. Ranma was... Ranma was one of his kind. Her nails had lengthened into sharp, exquisite claws; cone-shaped horns peeked out of her uncontrollable red hair. Her clothing (female clothing, he noted) accentuated her beauty perfectly, the blaze of her shirt accentuating the fire in her hair, the shadow of her pants and hose matching the shadow of her self. All three of her eyes were cast down to the floor at Nabiki’s gaze.
Unconsciously, he shifted into his birthright. “R... Ranma?”
She looked up at him; a second later, all three eyes widened. “Ryouga?” Her knees uncurled as she moved to stand; she never got there as she began to float. “...how?”
Now, with all his senses and powers returned, he understood what he’d been sniffing. He’d been sniffing her. And man, did she smell inviting. “My mother was an oni. She usually discouraged me coming out like this, though.” He fought back a stirring within himself; she called to him in a way no one had before. “Ranma...?”
“Yes?”
He could see it in her eyes and aura, smell it in her scent, feel it in the air’s vibrations. She wanted him, too - really wanted him. “We need to talk.”
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(Posted Fri, 06 Dec 2002 01:49)
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