Surprisingly, Stacy didn’t have to go very far to find her guest. She stepped out of the copse that had surrounded the little clearing where Alicia had broken the bad news to find the redhead sitting by one of the streams that ran through the park, knees pulled up against her generous chest, flicking pebbles into the flowing water. Sighing softly with relief, Stacy turned off the tracking device and put it back in her bag, then sat down beside Ranma.
Ranma glanced at her, as she tucked her legs underneath, face surprisingly clean of tears, then went back to watching pebbles plunk into the stream one at a time. Stacy simply waited silently, and finally Ranma spoke.
{Why me?} she asked in a quiet voice in her native Japanese. {Why does this crap always have to land on me? Did I anger a kami somehow and didn’t know it?} The redhead suddenly laughed harshly. {More likely, Pop did it, and I’m catching the hell as usual.}
Stacy winced, then leaned over and put an arm around the younger girl’s shoulders. {I don’t know, Ranma, I just don’t know,} she whispered. {I didn’t understand it when I was raped on a street that I thought was safe, and I understand it even less since I became DarkAngel. I don’t understand why a little girl gets kidnapped from a school yard in broad daylight and her abused body is found a week later. I don’t know why a woman stays with an abusive husband until she can’t take it anymore and decorates a wall with his brains. I don’t know ... let’s just say that when I finally meet God I’m going to have some serious questions for him. Until then, all I can do is help those I can, help punish their abusers when I can’t, and keep moving on.}
Ranma had stiffened on feeling the arm across her shoulders, but after a moment she relaxed, and even lay her head on Stacy’s shoulder. After a few minutes of silence, still gazing at the flowing stream, she asked, {Yeah, I guess you’re right, but where do I go now? I appreciate you letting me stay with you for awhile, but I can’t mooch off you forever — I don’t even have the excuse you’re my fiancée this time.}
{Yes, you can,} Stacy instantly disagreed. {Your father gave me my life back, my future. If in return all I do is give you a place to live while you finish growing up ... well, that doesn’t come close to paying off that debt.
{So, let me make a couple of suggestions,} she continued as the redhead she was sitting next to lifted her head from her shoulder to stare at her.
{First, you could return to Japan. I’m sure I could arrange it easily enough — you are Japanese, after all, and not here legally. You can’t return to where that psycho is chasing you, but you may know someone else that would take you in. That way, you’d at least be among people that speak your own language, that you understand better.
{Second, you can stay with me and help me track down the man responsible for your father’s death.}
Ranma shot upright, pulling away from Stacy’s arm across her shoulder. {But ... but I thought the man that killed Pop is dead ... isn’t he? Pop killed him!}
{Yes, he did,} Stacy agreed. {But Ranma, those were just thugs — tools. They didn’t decide to kill an assistant county prosecutor and his date for cheap thrills. In fact, I already have a good idea who they were working for, the problem is proving it.}
Ranma simply stared for a long moment, her face blank. Finally, in a voice leached of all emotion she said, {You don’t need proof. You just tell me who and where, and he won’t be a problem anymore.}
{No, no killing!} Stacy almost shouted. {Never killing, not unless it’s needed to save someone’s life, and in the years I’ve been DarkAngel it hasn’t been. We do not act like the scum we’re fighting, punishment is left to the courts.} Ranma jerked to her feet, whirling around to face away from Stacy, fists clenched. After a moment, Stacy added, {I’m not the only vigilante in Hudson City, Ranma, there are others — and most of them kill at the drop of a hat, as many as they can. They’re hunted by the police, and if they’re ever caught ... I doubt they’ll last long in prison. And ... I’ve met one or two, in my time. I’m not sure they’re even human anymore.}
After a moment, Ranma’s head bobbed. {Yeah, I’ve met one or two martial artists like that. Not killers,} she hastily added, {but the Art is all that matters to them. They don’t have friends or family, really. Everyone they meet is either a way to further their Art or don’t matter.} The redhead turned around and dropped back down to sit next to Stacy. {I was headed that way myself, before ...}
Her voice trailed off, and Stacy chuckled. {You met a girl, right?}
{I am not in love with that tomboy!} Ranma shouted.
{What tomboy?} Stacy asked, quirking an eyebrow, then started to laugh when Ranma blushed as red as her hair, eyes dropping as she reached up to tug on her pigtail. After a few minutes, Stacy managed to bring her laughter under control. Wiping her eyes, she shook her head. {Don’t worry, Ranma, I won’t ask about the long distance phone bills,} she teased, then sobered.
{Ranma, there is one thing — if you stay with me, help me seek justice for your father, you will have to spend much of your time as a girl. Possibly most if it.}
{What?! Why?} Ranma demanded.
Stacy sighed. (Ranma, if you become my ... well, ‘sidekick’ doesn’t really fit, after all the training your father must have given you since we first met, in a straight-up fight I doubt I could make you break a sweat. If you become my partner, your curse isn’t really a problem — might even be a plus, if the rumor gets out that there’s two of you. But your civilian identity would have to be female — partly because the police already think you’re female, but mostly because of that bacer.} — nodding toward Ranma’s wrist — {Having your curse switch you while you’re my partner is one thing, having it happen while you’re a civilian another thing entirely. If that happens often enough anyone with half a brain will figure out that you’re my partner — and that Stacy Hunter is DarkAngel. And if that happens — well, if I’m lucky I’ll just end up in jail. More likely, I’ll be dead.}
Ranma simply sat for a long moment, then started to shake her head, when Stacy’s handbag started ringing. Giving Ranma an apologetic smile, Stacy reached in and pulled out her cellphone. Flipping it open, eyebrows rising at the incoming number displayed, she hit the ‘accept’ button. “Hello, George, what’s going on?” ... “Right, we’re in LaMastre Park —” ... “No, we’re nowhere near the crime scene, I’m not going Nancy Drew on you —” ... “Yes, I’m sure that’s good news. Anyway, we’ll be awhile getting to the station house, but we’ll get there as soon as we can. See you there.”
Closing the phone and putting it back in the handbag, the blonde rose to her feet and offered a hand to her guest. “Come on, Ranma, Sergeant Amado wants to see us down at the police station. It’s just as well, think over my offer before you say yes or no, okay?”
Ignoring the offered hand, Ranma flipped to her feet. “Okay, but I don’t think I’ll change my mind.”
Stacy shrugged. “As long as you think it over, first,” she responded. “This way.”
Nabiki sat back in her chair and rubbed weary eyes, then stared again to the City News news story that had kicked off her marathon research project. PROSECUTOR ASSASSINATED IN LEMASTRE PARK, screamed the headline she had stayed up late to wait for. However, that article had only been the start of an even later night, had led to a lengthy news article cascade, through stories of a Hudson City modeling agency being implicated in young women being kidnapped and shipped to a Japanese brothel as sex slaves; two American girls, sisters but separated at a young age when adopted by different families, escaping from sex slavery in Japan only to be murdered at the U.S.’s Japanese embassy (the ripples from that were still bouncing around Japan); and on back to the articles of the two girls’ kidnappings, the first several years back and the second the previous year.
Of course, only the latest article had mentioned Ranma and his father, and then Genma only as “an unidentified man found dead at the scene” and Ranma as “an unidentified witness.” She was only guessing that this had to do with Ranma, but it felt like a pretty solid guess — nothing else on the Hudson City newspapers’ websites seemed to fit. And if it was ...
{Damn, Ranma, what have you gotten yourself involved in this time? The usual zaniness is one thing, but the Yakuza play for keeps!} And maybe if you hadn’t helped feed Kuno’s obsession, Ranma would still be here and his father would still be alive. Firmly ignoring her inner voice, the middle Tendo rose to her feet and walked over to sit on her bed, leaning on the windowsill and gazing out her open window at the nighttime sky. So, what do I tell Kasumi and Akane? They’re going to want some answers tomorrow — today — and I can’t give them any — not yet. And for the phone number, all I really have is a name and an address. And be honest with yourself, girl, for right now, at least, you don’t want any more. What you don’t know, you can’t accidentally spill to Kuno or the Amazons. Nabiki chuckled wryly. {Well, girl, I think you’ve answered your own question,} she murmured. {If you don’t have anything to tell them, then that’s how it is, they’ll just have to wait.} And with that, the normally mercenary Tendo rose to strip down for sleep for what few hours remained of the night.
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(Posted Fri, 21 May 2010 05:57)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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