[Episode 164273] [Episode 164273]The wretched creature sat in a corner of what it understood to be the dungeon of the Musk citadel. It sat silently, not even crying anymore. It was too numb to its misery now to cry, and besides, after what the Musk had done to it, crying tears caused it a fair amount of stinging pain. It might not hurt anymore, since the wounds had had time to scab over by now, but the creature (who had once been a girl, before they'd destroyed her) did not bother to try crying again.
The creature was completely naked, for the first of the things the Musk had taken from her had been her dignity. For the entire first day of her capture, she had been forced to remain nude in an open-barred cell, her wrists manacled to a chain hanging from the ceiling so she couldn't cover herself, while young Musk men came by the dozens, perhaps hundreds, to gawk at her. It was almost laughable; an entire society of little boys grown to men still with adolescent-like breast fixations. They never got the opportunity to see women in their segregated culture, so when one was dropped naked into their midst, they all rushed to stare at her different body parts with wide-eyed wonder. It was downright silly, actually.
The creature wasn't laughing anymore, not that she had felt much like it then either, naked under their many eyes.
The second thing they had taken from her was, unsurprisingly, her virginity. Really, what else can a captured female expect when in the custody of brutal, savage, animalistic warriors? The innocent gawkers had naturally been removed by that point, and older, more 'experienced' Musk veterans had taken on the task. The creature had lost track of their number after the first hour or so. The tired would leave, and fresh rapists would take their place. When she passed out, they waited for her to regain consciousness, gave her some water, and began again. This went on for an entire day.
As devastating as that loss had been to her then, the creature had to admit that what they had done over the next three days had been worse. Her tongue had been first. She had brought that upon herself, really. She had had quite a few things to say to her captors, at least before they had broken her spirit with the daylong gang rape. They were probably tired of listening to her acid tongue, so they had cut it out. Some sort of coagulating powder had been dumped into her mouth immediately after, stopping the bleeding and preventing her from choking to death on her own blood. It had stung horribly, and her throaty, pathetic-sounding screams and sobs had rung through the dungeon for hours.
When they came the next day, each of her eyes had been scooped out from their sockets, one an hour after the other. The creature's cold, humiliating, agonising world descended into permanent darkness. For a girl who had never completely gotten over her childhood fear of the dark, this had been terrifying, especially since she was well aware that she was trapped in the middle of a very real nightmare, one she would never awake from. The sounds of the dungeon, the screams and crying of other 'tenants', all seemed magnified in her mind, as her brain sought to draw more information from sound in the absence of sight.
On the fifth day of her capture, they took even sound from her. She could not see what they were doing, but they were more than willing to explain it for her benefit as they did it. They held her down, still struggling (if more in terror than any remaining defiance) to a table, where she was immediately secured by thick leather straps, including a very tight one that circled her forehead and held her head still. Then, as they explained, something like a barbed nail was inserted into each of her ears, one after the other. The depth was very carefully calculated so as not to pierce through to her brain, which could easily be fatal. No, the barbed ends simply tore her eardrums to shreds.
They always waited a full day after they took something from her, so that she could fully experience each loss, learn what it felt like to be without it, and then, just when she was getting over the horror and starting to wonder how she could possibly go on living this way, they came and took something else away.
Say what you will of the Musk; their aberrant biology, their primitive social structure, their tendency to act like absolute idiots around a pair of breasts. Never let it be said, however, that they do not know how to teach misery.
And that was how they left her, this wretched creature. Blind, deaf and dumb, trapped in a horrifying world of darkness and silence. The only interruptions she had to her contemplation of her misery were when they came to feed her, pouring some kind of awful tasting gruel down her throat, over the raw nerve endings of the stub that remained of her tongue. They had to hold her down to do it, since she had no desire to eat. Eating would prevent starvation and death, and she had decided some time ago that she had no desire at all to continue living in this nightmarish excuse for an existence. Sometimes, when they were done feeding her, they groped her or raped her again; on a whim, apparently. She just lay there and let them do what they wanted. She was well beyond caring, much less resisting. All she wanted was to be allowed to die.
The creature felt a tiny breeze against her bloodstained cheek. Someone had opened the door to her cell. She sighed and considered resisting their attempt to feed her again, but realised there was no point. The beastmen were much stronger than she, and she had already figured out a way to thwart them and hasten her death. It was so simple, she couldn't understand how she hadn't realised it before. All she had to do was stick her finger down her throat (trying hard not to poke at the tender remnants of her stolen tongue) and make herself vomit. She'd been doing this for the last three days.
She felt another rush of air, possibly her captor rushing towards her and then stopping suddenly, and would have been confused at the abrupt movements if she cared enough to be. Trembling hands clasped her naked shoulders. 'Oh?' She wondered. 'Rape first today?' That was new. They had always discharged their duty to feed her before indulging themselves. Come to think of it, they hadn't abused her for some time now, at least two weeks (assuming she was fed once a day, since she had no other means by which to judge the passage of time). Perhaps she had finally become too hideous for them to take pleasure from her body. That wouldn't surprise her, what with the unwashed bloodstains on her face from her empty eye sockets, the stench of her own excrement she lay in, and the overall decline in her health from nearly a month of living on gruel in this cold dark dungeon, without exposure to sunshine or exercise. She had been a pretty girl once, but never would be again. Now she was just a wretched, awful thing; a worthless creature that sat in darkness and silence, forever cut off from the world of human beings.
She sat there limply, awaiting whatever was to come. If they wanted her in a different position, they would move her, like she was some sort of limp, poseable doll. They knew by now that she wouldn't struggle, though she certainly wasn't going to participate on any real level either. It wasn't due to any sort of defiance on her part -- she had lost that when they had broken her. It was simply that she couldn't care anymore what they did to her.
The person shook her shoulders lightly, trying to get some sort of reaction out of her. Didn't he know better? She couldn't see, hear, or speak to him. Maybe he was new to the dungeon staff? Not that she really cared.
She blinked (a reflexive action, and a rather uncomfortable one since her eyes had been taken) in surprise as the man pulled her gently to him, holding her tenderly. Well, this was new! If his gentleness surprised her, she was very nearly intrigued when she felt something hot and wet fall onto her bloody cheek.
A tear? He was crying over her? How bizarre, to cry in pity for a person you rendered pitiable. Maybe it really was a new staff member, one not yet hardened to the realities of dungeons and torture chambers. Well, whatever. It didn't matter. Eventually he'd become jaded and cold like the rest and be back to hurt her next time. Well, that assuming there was anything else they could do to torment her that she could still care about. Frankly, she didn't think there was anything worse that hadn't already been done. Oh sure, they could beat her or cut her or burn her with hot irons, and yes she would most likely scream in agony if they did that, but once they were finished, she would be right back to the same numbness she was in now, so it wouldn't accomplish much. They seemed to understand that as well.
She could feel hot breath on her cheek, near her ear, and realised this male figure crying over her was trying to speak with her. Sighing, and wanting to get this over with so she could go back to her blank state of mind, she gently pushed him back, tapped her ear showing him the caked trail of long-dried blood that had flowed freely out of her ears, and shook her head. There, that should communicate to him that she was deaf, so he would give up on whatever he wanted and leave her alone.
He didn't. He was still holding her by the shoulders while she did her little game of Charades. He hesitated a minute, and then took one of her arms by the wrist, pulling it towards him. She sighed. 'Figures. No opportunity for pillow talk, so he goes straight to the main event. Sorry kiddo, but if you expect any help from me on this, you're going to be disappoin--'
Her mind froze.
He had guided her hand around to the back of his neck, curled his fingers around hers and caused her to grip something. It felt like a thick, braided rope or... no, it was hair. He had his hair braided into a pigtail. What was he trying to tell her? That he had a girly fashion sense or...
And all at once, she knew.
From deep within her, like a glowing ember from out of her dark cesspool of misery, she spoke his name...
*
Ranma Saotome waited, hoping, praying for some sign of hope, or at least recognition from Akane. He had barely recognised her, so thin and filthy, her hair in disarray and unwashed for weeks on end, her once-soft cheeks caked with old, dried blood. Blood which had come, he had to assume, from the grotesque holes where those warm brown eyes had once been. Her eyelids were still there, but they functioned strangely without the orbs they were meant to protect. They moved, but even when they blinked, they did not close all the way, leaving a narrow crack for one to stare into the raw emptiness beyond. When at rest, her eyelids normally gaped open, and the empty sockets that turned toward him now send chills down his spine, and made his stomach lurch.
But this was still she. This was Akane. After all this time, he'd finally found her... or what was left of her. The Musk, in their vengeance against him, had taken away the person they judged meant the most to him. They found this a far more feasible means of revenge then taking on the warrior who had defeated and shamed their prince, the dragon-spawn, Herb.
It had been torture, the waiting. Ranma was a great fighter, and he felt confident he could take Herb out again if he had to. The entire Musk army, barricaded inside their citadel, was another story. Had he been there to protect her that day, he probably could have prevented their expeditionary force from leaving the country with Akane. Unfortunately, he had been on a weekend training trip with his father, and when he returned and received the news of Akane's capture, the Musk had already had over 36 hours to escape with their prey; more than enough time to board a chartered plane and cover half of the land distance of their journey back to their territory.
So Ranma had enlisted help. The Amazons had been a tad reluctant. Akane was Shampoo's rival for his hand, after all. However, when he'd stood there, trembling in fury over the old crone's refusal to help, and declared that he was going, with or without them, Shampoo had sighed, and come to stand beside him. "Shampoo always fight by side of her Airen," she smiled in a way that was probably supposed to be affectionate, "even for rescue violent-kitchen-destroyer-girl."
Mousse had naturally declared his intention to follow Shampoo, and so Cologne sighed and co-operated . She had pretty much taken over the plans from that point, since she had much more experience in co-ordinating enough warriors to constitute an army. She directed Ranma to assemble all the great (and even the pretty good) fighters he knew. That had taken Ranma a fair bit of time. Not all would go with him, but most were willing. Certainly Ryouga and Kunou hadn't taken much convincing. One word about Akane being captured by beastly men and both were ready to fight that very minute. The problem was calming them down long enough to get everyone ready for the main assault (though Kunou's main contribution would be buying everyone's plane tickets, so it wasn't as though he was completely useless). Ranma had even managed to press his and Akane's fathers into taking their places on the battle line.
Cologne had not been idle while Ranma was gathering up his old friends, enemies, and acquaintances. When the mismatched group trudged out of the jungle near the base of the Musk citadel, they were met by over 100 Amazon warriors, armed to the teeth and ready to go to war against their ancient blood enemies. And they'd brought siege equipment too, which proved very handy in knocking a few holes in the walls for the Neriman martial artists to pour through.
Following Cologne's strategy, Ranma hung back a fair bit at the beginning, letting his friends and allies deal with the cannon fodder, while he saved his strength for Herb.
And he had surely needed it. Here in his own lair, Herb had a few surprises to pull on his old foe, and a couple new tricks he'd practised with his enormous levels of ki as well. It had been a long, hard, impossible battle, but as Ranma Saotome usually did when the odds against him were impossible, he prevailed through skill, free improvisation, and an absolute unwillingness to accept defeat. He had left the Musk prince lying unconscious in the centre of his own throne room.
After checking to see that his allies were more or less finished the heavy fighting and moving on to the mop-up, Ranma ran as fast as he could in his exhausted state through the lower levels of the citadel to the dungeons. It had taken him some time, since of course he had never been here before, and it was a near labyrinth of twisting corridors and dead ends. As he stumbled through the dungeons, calling out Akane's name and ripping open doors, Ranma saw more than a few things he could have died happily having never witnessed. There were quite a few other poor souls currently experiencing the Musk's hospitality. Most looked like they'd been here for some time. There were some Musk men (apparently those who had fallen out of favour with the Prince) and others who looked fully human... or at least that they had been once.
Half the time, the people Ranma found were dead. The other half, they looked like they should be. One man had been crammed into a tiny room, less than a metre square, which had jagged spikes set into the walls, floor and ceiling. He only had room to crouch, and if he relaxed at all, he was stabbed from some angle or another. From the blood pooled beneath him, it was obvious the poor man had fallen asleep a few times already, only to be brought rudely awake by another excruciating wound. The bars of his tiny cell had been welded shut, and Ranma knew he wouldn't be able to get them open. Upon seeing Ranma, and recognising him as not being one of the Musk, the man had begun sobbing and pleading with him. Ranma's Mandarin was pretty weak, but he recognised the word 'kill', and realised the man was begging shamelessly to be put out of his misery.
Picking up a spear from a rack on the wall, Ranma swallowed hard, and granted the man's wish.
The look of utter gratitude on the man's features as he died would haunt Ranma's dreams for a very long time.
Twice more, as he searched the dungeons, Ranma discovered those for whom he could provide no other form of mercy than a quick, relatively painless death. Feeling the weight of their wretched lives upon his soul, Ranma gave them what they wished. There were a few others who he felt could recover, and in those cases Ranma released them from their bonds or cells, and then hurriedly continued on his way. Some of those would not be able to leave the dungeons without aid, but he couldn't spare the time to help them now. He had to find Akane. He wished some of them spoke Japanese (or in the cases of the catatonic, could speak at all) for they might have been able to point him in the direction of the young Japanese girl's cell.
Then he found her.
And for a brief, horrified moment, wished he had not.
Now he knelt in front of his poor, mutilated fiancée, clutching her to him as he cried for her suffering. When she had listlessly indicated her ears, where the dark stains of old blood appeared to have dripped in frightening quantities, he realised she couldn't hear his words, his cries, his pleading for her to answer him. So he brought her hand up to touch his pigtail, which she had used as a handle often enough when she was mad at him and dragging him off somewhere. He had never made a big deal out of it, since it really didn't hurt as much as you might think. Now though, faced with the horror of Akane's present state, it was almost a fond memory. What he wouldn't give for her to whip out her hammer, brain him, and call him a baka...
After a moment of holding his pigtail, Akane stiffened. She fingered it a little more, and then lifted her head, as though to gaze at his face, which of course she no longer could. Looking directly into her empty eye sockets caused Ranma to shudder, but he forced himself not to turn away.
"...amma?"
He blinked, not recognising the throaty sound she had made.
"Amma?"
Frowning curiously, Ranma (as gently as he could) pulled open her jaw and stared into her mouth. He flinched as he saw, or rather didn't see, her tongue. Suddenly he realised it was his own name that she was trying to pronounce.
"Yeah Akane... it's me." He whispered. When he remembered that she apparently couldn't hear him, he nodded his head. With her hand still clutching his pigtail, she could feel his motion.
Akane began to tremble. All of a sudden she clutched madly at him, desperate to hold him, as if he were the one solid piece remaining in her universe. She began to sob and wail, her cries sounding strange and horrid to his ears; not-quite-right coming from her tongue-less mouth. Her arms seemed to have barely any strength, weakened as they were by weeks of malnutrition and muscle atrophy. With his own strong, powerful arms, he held her gently, letting her cry all she wished, for as long as she needed to. He cried with her, the horror of it all seeping into his soul and wounding him deeply. It was hard to say which of them cried the longest, or who needed it more.
Eventually, Ranma realised they needed to leave. Even though the Musk were defeated, there would still be stragglers and survivors, particularly since most of his allies from Japan generally preferred not to fight to the death. The Amazons were likely of a different mindset, due to their upbringing and long-standing hostilities with these beast-men, but he was willing to bet their honour would not allow them to run through an unconscious enemy someone else had defeated and spared. Herb wasn't going to sleep forever either.
Herb... HE did this! Maybe not with his own hands (though Ranma wouldn't put it past him) but at least by his command. HE had done this horrible thing to Akane!
Ranma stood, gently pulling Akane's arms from around his neck. She struggled, whimpering unhappily, not wanting him to let her go, to leave her alone in the darkness again without human contact. She had little strength to compete with his, though, and he was gently insistent. He removed his long-sleeved, Chinese tang shirt, and helped her slip into it. It trailed long on her slight frame, giving her a reasonable degree of modesty.
*
Upon realising his intent, Akane stopped struggling and allowed him to put her into the first clothes she'd worn in a month. She tearfully nodded her thanks, though frankly being naked was not what she considered her biggest worry now. On the other hand, taken as a gesture, it showed Ranma's caring, his concern, and his kindness. This was what she was grateful for.
Ranma then pulled her to her feet, drawing her arms around his neck, and then scooped her up in his arms. Still crying softly, Akane clung to him, pressing her face into his chest, inhaling the smell of his healthy sweat. Smell and touch were the only two senses left to her, and the reek of the dungeon had managed to numb the former after a very short time. She desperately craved physical contact with him, as it was the only means she had of assuring herself that he was still there.
Ranma carried her through the dungeon's corridors, up several long flights of stairs. She could feel the rhythm of his determined step, almost able to sense the grim emotions he was feeling by the way she was gently bounced along.
*
It had taken Ranma a while to find his way back to the throne room. As he had hoped, the fallen Musk prince was still lying there, facedown on the polished floor, unconscious. Ranma's eyes narrowed...
*
Akane panicked as she realised Ranma was setting her down on the ground. NO! She didn't want to be out of contact with him! She didn't want to be alone in the dark and the silence! She begged, pleaded with him not to let her go, but since she couldn't hear her own voice, she had no idea if her words were at all intelligible. With her tongue gone, she admitted it was unlikely.
Almost immediately, Ranma's attitude seemed to change. His hands gently touched her face, calming and soothing her. She cupped her hands over his, wanting to hold them there, keep them there. Ever so gently, he guided her to sit on the floor. Taking her left wrist in his hand, he traced his finger around it, about where she used to wear her watch.
'Time.'
He then took her small hand in his, and curled all of her fingers but one, lightly pinching that one between his fingers to indicate it.
'One'
'Time... One... One moment? Or one minute?'
Realising he wanted her to wait where she was while he did something, and that he was effectively promising to be right back, Akane reluctantly nodded. She wasn't happy about losing contact with him, of being along in her darkness again, but she understood that they were probably still in the Musk citadel somewhere, and Ranma might have to do some things to get them out of here that he couldn't do while holding her in his arms.
Ranma touched her cheek tenderly, a gesture of reassurance, and then pulled away from her. Akane bit her lip and tried not to start crying again as she waited in loneliness. Trying to keep her mind off it, she began to count off the seconds in her head.
She did not have to wait long. She'd just reached the count of 32 when Ranma came and touched her again, picking her up into his arms to continue their journey away from this evil place. One thing concerned her though. Ranma's hand on her naked legs was now wet with something warm and sticky, and after a short time, she could feel something similar seeping through the back of her borrowed shirt from his other hand.
She wondered what it was. Actually, she had a fairly good idea of the 'what'. What really worried her was who it had been.
*
Time passed, maybe 20 minutes. Ranma had stopped walking. Positioned as she was with her cheek against his semi-bare chest, she could feel his breathing change from the steady rhythm it had been while they were walking. Now it constantly varied; short inhalation, long exhalation, steady in-and-out, long exhalation again.
When another person's hands touched her face, drawing her face up and away from Ranma's warmth, she guessed he had been talking to another person or persons. The sudden touch of the unexpected hand also startled her quite badly. She had gasped in surprise, whimpered, and then tried again to bury her face into Ranma's chest. The hand, which felt very small, dry and wrinkly against her cheek, held her more firmly, forcing her to turn her head, apparently so the owner of the wrinkly hand could get a better look at her.
Akane felt the hand flinch, then draw away trembling. Now released, she again buried her face in Ranma's chest and whimpered.
If she could judge by the tension she could feel in Ranma, and the sharpness of his breathing, he was yelling at someone now, or at least speaking rather harshly. This went on for a short while, and then Ranma seemed to relax more. He carried her a bit farther, stopping again. He tried to set her down, but she clutched him harder and shook her head fiercely. She felt Ranma sigh as he resigned himself to carrying her for a while.
She knew she shouldn't argue. Poor Ranma's arms were probably getting tired by now, but the thought of not touching him anymore was terrifying to her. Ranma was warm, safe, trusted; and his arms -- his strong, powerful arms -- sheltered and protected her now, when she felt as vulnerable as she ever had in her life. Who was she kidding! She was blind and deaf, could not see or interact in any real way with her environment. She was utterly, utterly helpless! She had no idea where she was, what the situation might be, or what was going to happen next. All she knew was that Ranma was here, and that he would protect her. That was why she couldn't bear to let him go; he was her lifeline, her only source of security and hope.
Ranma walked around with her a bit more, then stopped and tapped her legs with one hand, at the same time squeezing her firmly with the arm around her back. She took this to mean that he wanted her to stand up, but that it didn't mean he was going to let go of her. At least, she hoped that was what he meant. Somewhat reluctantly, Akane nodded, and allowed herself to be put down on her feet.
She stood somewhat shakily, leaning heavily on him. Aside from some weakness in her legs, she also had the added problem of not being able to see. Remaining balanced and upright is rather difficult if you can't see where the ground was, but she managed by not letting go of Ranma's waist for a moment.
She panicked however, when he took a step forward, his arm around her shoulder compelling her forwards. Immediately she dropped to her knees, stopping them both. How could she walk if she didn't know what was in front of her? She could walk into a wall, a tree branch, or off a cliff!
Crouching down beside her, she could feel Ranma rubbing her shoulders reassuringly. He gently pulled her back up to her feet, and again with his arm around her shoulder, hers about his waist, he took a slow step forward. Akane hesitantly stretched her foot out, encountering only flat ground. When she drew her other foot up to meet the first, completing the step, Ranma squeezed her arm, signalling his approval, or perhaps congratulations. A form of encouragement, at any rate. She wondered what he was saying to her.
She realised she was being silly. Granted, she couldn't see where she was going, but Ranma was right there beside her, guiding and supporting her. He wasn't about to lead her into a wall, a tree, or off a cliff. And if she stumbled over a small rock or something, he wouldn't allow her to fall. She knew he wouldn't, because she trusted him, more than she ever would have thought she could before being captured by the Musk.
Ranma gently applied pressure, indicating he wanted to move again, so Akane steeled herself and stepped blindly where he led. He paused after one step, checking to make sure she was okay, no doubt, but she turned her head to where she imagined his was and nodded that it was alright. Ranma squeezed her arm again and began walking; slowly, to be sure, but at least now they were moving somewhere together, and at least this way she wouldn't have to be carried everywhere in Ranma's arms...
Actually, she probably wouldn't mind that so much, to be honest. Her world was now a frightening place, and his arms had (so far) been the only place of safety she had yet found.
They made a few gradual turns, along whatever route Ranma was guiding her. The ground was a bit rough under her bare feet, like coarse dirt that had been trampled somewhat by hundreds of people's feet. Once she tripped over an errant clump of grass growing in her path, but Ranma didn't allow her to fall, and they continued on.
He brought them to a stop, and Akane wondered where they were now. She inhaled deeply, and the smell of blood and iodine filled her nostrils. After being out of the cloying stench of the dungeons for a while, her nose was finally beginning to send her more information. This place smelled like... well, a bit like a hospital, except with a few less sterilisers. A hospital wouldn't have a dirt floor either. Maybe some sort of field triage? How had they ended up in one such a short distance from the Musk citadel?
Questions whipped through her mind, and Akane almost cried in frustration at her inability to get any of them answered. Then Ranma reached down and took her wrist, guiding her hand out in front of her, where it came into contact with a warm, somewhat soft object. Curiously, she moved her hand around the object, trying to determine what it was, and Ranma released her wrist to allow her more freedom to explore. After encountering a nose, eye, and mouth, Akane was fairly certain she was touching someone's face. Feeling a little sheepish, she mused that this person was being incredible patient with her, especially since she suspected she might have accidentally poked the individual in the eye a moment ago. Still, she wasn't sure why she was supposed to be feeling this person's face. She frowned in confusion.
Then Ranma gently took her wrist and guided it higher, letting Akane brush her fingertips along a piece of cloth... a bandanna, she thought, since she could feel the person's hair higher up. Still she frowned. Ranma took hold of her hand, and very carefully guided her fingers down the person's face, actually inside the mouth, where he rubbed her finger along the wonderfully patient person's teeth. My, what long incisors the person seemed to have...
AHA! Akane's face burst into a grin as she realised who was standing in front of her! Ryouga! Ryouga had come to rescue her too! He was such a great friend! She tried to say his name, but judging how he seemed to wince, she doubted she had said it very well.
She didn't have the clearest memory of her own voice's sound for those two days between the loss of her tongue and her eardrums, but she knew she wasn't very comprehensible. There were so many sounds she could no longer make without her tongue, her speech had devolved into simple vowel sounds, and a very few consonants like 'M', 'F', 'B', 'H', 'P', and 'W' (1) So to him, his name on her lips probably sounded like "ii-oh-ah".
Akane was grateful to see... well... to have her good friend here to support her. She tried to show her gratitude by fumbling for his hand, which he quickly brought to meet hers. She held his big, rough hand in both of hers as she smiled and bowed, forming her lips into something she hoped would be recognised as a "thank you". She doubted any longer sentence would be understood, if even the short one was.
Ryouga stroked her cheek affectionately with his free hand, and Akane allowed herself to lean into it. It was a slightly more intimate touch than she might have been comfortable with before all this, but now touch was her first and best sense and means of communication. She knew what Ryouga meant by the touch; a gesture of friendly affection, so there was nothing really wrong with it. His hand was saying to her 'I'm glad you're safe' because his mouth couldn't tell her that in any way she could hear.
Eventually Ryouga pulled away, and Ranma half turned Akane by her shoulders, and raised her hand again. This time, Akane was more careful as she felt over what she knew to be a person's face, and succeeded in not poking the girl in the eye. Yes, she was pretty sure this person was a girl. Her face was softer to the touch than Ryouga's had been. Still she didn't know who it could be. She felt higher, feeling the long bangs, but a lot of girls she knew had those, and she couldn't tell the subtle differences in style just by touch alone.
Apparently, her frustration at not being able to figure out the person's identity was showing on her face, because the girl took Akane's hand and placed something in it. Akane rolled it around in her fingers, eventually recognising it as a small cooking spatula... like the kind a certain okonomiyaki chef she knew wore in a bandoleer on her chest and used like shuriken in combat. Ukyou!
Akane again grinned and gave a shot at pronouncing her friend's name. Ukyou thought of Akane as her rival for Ranma, but even she had come to help rescue her from the Musk. Akane wondered if there was anything she could do to repay the girl for this, but doubted there was. She resolved instead to merely be grateful. She bowed low to Ukyou, repeating her "thank you" attempt, but was taken by surprise when Ukyou suddenly leapt forward and hugged her fiercely.
All was silent in Akane's world, but she could feel the okonomiyaki chef's body trembling against hers, and where their cheeks touched, a warm wetness could be felt. Ukyou was crying, crying for Akane, and the horrible things that the Musk had done to her.
Akane didn't really know what to say (or otherwise communicate). She knew things could never be the same, or even close to it. She was out of the Musk dungeon now, and safe among friends, but that didn't mean everything was okay again, not by a long shot. The Musk had taken so much from her, that even she was sure she wouldn't be able to find true happiness or relief ever again. And worst of all, she knew that she would never again know what it was like to feel completely safe. That, perhaps, was the most important thing the Musk had taken from her, and their final revenge.
*
Ranma watched -- keeping at least one hand on Akane's shoulder at all times, just so she wouldn't think he had left -- as all her friends and loved ones who were here came one by one to greet the mutilated girl, to assure her that they were here, express their relief at finding her alive, or just to cry with her over all she had lost. One by one, Akane found by touch something that could tell her who it was facing her.
Chinese hair ornament: Shampoo
Tall man with thick glasses: Mousse
Wooden stick being held by a tiny, wrinkly hand: Cologne
Headscarf over a smooth head and glasses: Genma ('amazing! Even him!' Akane had thought.)
Moustache and tear-soaked face: her father (the fact that he had tackled her in a hug instead of a more gentle introduction was a big clue too, which had also scared the hell out of her for a minute).
And so the list went on and on. It seemed everyone she knew was here, with the exception of her two oldest sisters. She was disappointed not to be able to 'see' them (especially Kasumi. What she wouldn't do for a long cry in her motherly older sister's arms...) She had hit upon the idea to take Ranma's hand and draw their names in his palm, inquiring about them, but when she did, Ranma had brought her hand to his cheek and then shook his head. They were not here. He took her palm, copying her method, and drew something in her palm. Unfortunately, not being able to see the pattern he drew, she couldn't quite make sense of it, save that it was complex, probably a kanji or two. After the third attempt with no comprehension from Akane, Ranma wrote the word in simple hiragana, one letter at a time, very slowly. 'U'...'chi'. 'Uchi': 'home'. Kasumi and Nabiki were at home.
Akane had just hung her head sadly and nodded. She supposed it made sense. They were still deep in the wilds of China. That was no place for Kasumi or Nabiki to be, especially if there was going to be heavy fighting involved. They were safer back in Japan. Still, Akane wished they could be here.
*
Ranma watched Akane meet her friends one by one. She seemed very grateful to each of them for coming to rescue her, despite the fact that they had been (as far as he was concerned) far too late, for all intents and purposes. Akane was still alive, true, but that was the only good news. He had never imagined there were people so cruel that they could do such a thing to a girl (or for that matter, anyone).
While Akane was politely thanking Kunou (whom she identified by the bokken he held out to her. Ranma himself barely recognised the semi-deranged kendoist with half his face wrapped up in bandages from the battle) Ukyou addressed Ranma.
"Ranchan," she whispered, as though not to interrupt Akane's soundless conversation, despite the fact that there was no need lower her voice. "Do you think one of us should go take her to get cleaned up?"
Ranma eyed Akane's still bloodstained and grimy face, running down past the tail of his shirt to where her bare legs were caked in filth best left unidentified. He nodded. "Yeah, I think that ought to be a priority, now that we've got the area secured and can relax a bit."
Ukyou nodded. "I'll do it."
Ranma glanced at her, slightly surprised. "You sure? I mean... before, you two didn't exactly... um..."
Ukyou shook her head sharply. "Do you think any of that crap matters now! Goddammit Ranchan! Look at her! At what they... what they did to her! Do you honestly think I'm such a soulless, petty, nasty bitch who could still hold a grudge after this?"
Ranma winced. "No! No Ucchan, I never meant anything like that! Honest! It just... surprised me a bit that you'd be so quick to volunteer... Besides which, with the condition she's in... well... it's gonna be a nasty job."
Ukyou let her hurt anger out in a sigh of grief. She shook her head slowly. "If I can do anything at all to help her, make her feel better and more like a human being again... I'll do it in a second, Sugar." She paused a moment, and then turned away from him, collecting her thoughts as though about to give a long-withheld confession.
"You know... despite the arguments we'd get into... I never actually hated her... ever. Honestly, deep down I kind of liked her as a person, but we were usually against each other since you were in the middle. More than once, I'd stop and wonder, if we'd never been engaged to the same guy, we might have been good friends... maybe even best friends. I'd sit in my restaurant on weekends after closing -- alone as usual -- and wonder what it might have been like, being friends with Akane, of how much fun we might have had. I could teach her to cook (well, it was a fantasy, remember) and maybe she could teach me about... you know... girly-type things I never learned growing up-- putting on makeup and stuff like that. I guess it was just kind of a silly daydream... but I kinda hoped that... after you and me got married... she wouldn't hate me too much for it... and maybe we could eventually put all this fighting behind us and be some kind of friends."
"Ucchan..."
The young okonomiyaki chef flushed as she realised she'd been babbling on for a lot more than she'd intended at the beginning. "Um... anyway... yeah. I'll help her clean up. Just leave her in my hands, and I'll bring her right back, good as..." Ukyou trailed off awkwardly. "I'll... take care of her. I promise."
As soon as Ukyou could separate Akane from her latest well-wisher, Ukyou put one of her mini-spats into the poor girl's hand to identify herself, and then took her by the hand and tried to lead her away. Akane was extremely hesitant, seemingly terrified that there might be some unknown obstacle in front of her, so at Ranma's suggestion, Ukyou put one arm around the painfully thin girl's shoulders to guide her more effectively. After securing some disinfectant soap and a cloth from the medical supplies, she led Akane away from the base camp to a nearby river, and very very gradually (for the riverbed was not nearly as flat and stoneless as the ground they'd already crossed) led the girl into the water until it was up to their thighs. Akane had been quite startled when her foot first touched the cool waters, and seemed confused.
Ukyou held the soap under Akane's nose, hoping to make her intentions clear to the blind and deaf girl, then helped her out of Ranma's shirt, which she tossed back to the shoreline. Engaging Akane's co-operation through touch gestures and guiding hands took some doing, but eventually she managed to get the girl thoroughly scrubbed clean. There had been bad moments during Akane's washing, for both of them. Akane had cried out in sudden pain when Ukyou had almost unavoidably gotten some of the harsh soap suds into her empty eye sockets while trying to scrub the old bloodstains from her face. It hadn't helped that that looking straight into Akane's lost eyes had set Ukyou's hands to trembling either, but the kindly chef was determined to do this for Akane, even if she cried throughout the whole experience of washing the evidence of the poor girl's unbelievable suffering from her body. There had also been that moment when Ukyou had been scrubbing vigorously between Akane's buttocks and thighs, to remove the stains of unwiped excrement, and discovered the bloodstains and other signs of extremely rough treatment in that location as well, the trails of old blood leading down from both her nether orifices. After everything else they had done to Akane, it really shouldn't have surprised the chef that they had brutally raped her as well, but the realisation was still heartbreaking. Ukyou had been forced to pause for a minute or so as she sobbed, before steeling herself and cleansing what she could of Akane's ravaged private places as well.
There was once a time when Akane would have found something like this extraordinarily humiliating, but that was an emotion she was no longer able to place value on, the personal pride that had so characterised her previous behaviour utterly destroyed. She knew Ukyou was doing this to help her, even if it caused her pain to have some of her more delicate places (both between her legs and near to her eye sockets, as well as a few other places where cuts and bruises had not fully healed) thoroughly and vigorously scrubbed clean, she could feel only gratitude to her former rival for helping her become clean again at last. Besides which, after everything that had been done to hurt her, she had become somewhat inured to physical pain, and it was much easier to bare knowing this small pain came from an act of sincere kindness.
When Ukyou was finally finished, she clutched the naked girl to herself and sobbed, completely heartbroken over Akane's horrid experiences. Akane felt like crying too, and hugged her former rival tightly as well, murmuring a soft attempt at words of deep gratitude.
When she could get ahold of herself again, Ukyou carefully led Akane back to the shore (holding her up since the girl frequently stumbled over the stones in the riverbed). She sat the girl down on the bank for a moment to give Ranma's shirt a quick scrub (it had seen better days, after today's awful battle, though the bloodstain on the back troubled her, and she determined to make sure Ranma wasn't hiding a serious injury when they got back to camp). After dressing Akane again in the shirt, she led the blind girl back to camp and to Ranma, whom Akane immediately clutched as soon as she identified him. Ukyou then left to see if she couldn't scrounge up some proper clothing for the girl.
Ukyou considered her feelings as she watched the man she loved gently hold the poor girl. An extremely brief flash of jealousy disappeared so quickly it barely warranted a thought. How could she possibly feel jealous of a girl who'd suffered as much as Akane? She knew that Ranma blamed himself for what had happened to her, though Ukyou fully intended to remind him to blame the monsters who'd actually done the act any and every time she caught him stuck in guilty brooding. Without a doubt, she was sure that Ranma was going to take care of poor Akane for the rest of her life, giving up every moment he had, if necessary, to helping her try and find some measure of a life again despite having had so much taken away from her. She couldn't hold that against him, and in fact felt a great need to help out in that regard, as much as she could given that she had to run her restaurant to pay her bills. God... what were Kasumi and Nabiki going to think when they brought Akane home like this? Her father was already in a near-catatonic state of shock and grief, which Ukyou had seen Genma unsuccessfully trying to bring his friend out of on her way out of camp to the river.
And what would the future hold for all of them? How was this going to change the way they'd all been fighting over Ranma before this tragedy? She knew without a doubt that things could never go back to the way they were. Would Ranma still want to marry Akane? Granted, she couldn't be much of a wife anymore, and would likely spend the rest of her life completely dependant on others for the smallest of day-to-day things, but who had the heart to hold that against her? Certainly not Ukyou. Already Akane was clinging to Ranma like he was her one source of safety and hope in her broken world. Could such a desperate and demanding need develop into a real relationship? Akane would need someone to take care of her, that was for certain, but would they marry? Ukyou supposed the two would have to decide that between them, though she hoped pity wouldn't be Ranma's only motivation to do so, or he would be miserable for the rest of his life, consumed with guilt and desperate to do anything to make Akane happy again, to whatever degree was possible anymore. Ukyou would never be able to make herself stand in the way of that. She vowed that she would always be there to support them in any way she could.
On the other hand, she still loved Ranma, and still desired him, which currently warred with her great sympathy for poor Akane's plight, and her desire to do whatever she could to help the girl. What if she and Ranma married, and then together took care of Akane for the rest of her life? She could see that, especially if Akane did not feel herself worthy to marry Ranma anymore (even though both Ukyou and Ranma would certainly try and reassure her otherwise) despite that she desperately desired to be near him . Ukyou wondered if, long after everyone's horror over the tragedy had ebbed, and the three settled into life together, Akane might become restless and feel a desire to sleep with the man she so loved and depended on, even knowing that Ranma would be married to Ukyou by that point. Ukyou decided that would have to be something she was willing to give to Akane, marriage vows or not. She doubted very much she would have the heart to deny the unfortunate girl something so profound as the joy of making love to the man she cared deeply for, even if that man was Ukyou's husband. Yes, she would do that for Akane if she asked. It might hurt a little, but Ukyou knew she would still give her permission. In fact, she would probably be the one to suggest it to Akane, who otherwise might not feel she had a right to ask for something so personal.
Ukyou shook her head to clear it of her idle musings. This horrible event had shattered everything she thought she knew about her life and what she wanted from it. Nothing would ever be the same from here on in, and guessing what was to be was nearly pointless. She would have to wait and see what would happen.
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(Posted Sat, 10 Jun 2006 18:22)
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