The Ryoga/Ukyo Chronicles
By Jeremy Sumerlin (aka the Girthman)
Disclaimer:
Ryoga, Hiroshi, Daisuke, Tatewaki Kuno, Sasuke, and Ukyo are not my creations and are all copyright of Rumiko Takahashi. I’d like to thank Takahashi-sensei for her great series. I once again claim no credit for their creation, however, some of the characters are my creations (aka Migi & Hidari and Ryu Itzuyo) and I do claim them, so there!
Chapter Six: A Rose Dying, Part 1
****************************************************************************
Kesho Takagume carefully arranged the bushels of flowers around his
stand in the market, watching all the potential customers stroll by. The
open market at Kiragome village was the best place for miles to sell his
only potential commodity...flowers. Roses, actually. They were somewhat of a
rarity around here, but he grew them in his own home. Roses of all kinds and
sizes, colors and forms. He eagerly eyed a group of people that approached
his stand, assured that he would make a sale today.
There were five of them. The one that seemed to be in the lead was an
attractive girl in a blue Chinese shirt and black, form hugging pants. She
was carrying a rather large backpack with what seemed to be a portable grill
and a very large spatula strapped to it. He shrugged it off. As long as they
had money and wanted flowers, he didn’t care what they had with them. He
also noticed her left pants leg was cut open somehow. She was holding the
hand of a rather brutish looking guy with thick black hair, a long sleeved
yellow shirt, green pants bound at the ankles, and a yellow and orange
bandanna. He carried a very large backpack strapped to which was an
umbrella. He wore a somewhat angry expression, but the girl seemed very
cheerful.
Next on the parade was a man wearing the gaudiest green, silver, and
gold kimono that Kesho’d ever seen. The man’s hair was done up in the
traditional samurai fashion, and he wore a traditional samurai daisho at his
side. His face was almost completely emotionless as he scanned the market
site. Beside him was a guy wearing a black school uniform and carrying a
somewhat realistically-sized backpack. He had light brown hair, and his blue
eyes seemed to be scanning the price lists of the various booths with
disdain.
A few steps behind him was a similarly dressed guy with black hair.
His brown eyes seemed to scan every semi-attractive woman in the market site
with much happiness. So much, in fact, that he ran into a pile of boxes and
fell to the ground, cursing loudly. Kesho chuckled. An easy sale, to be
sure. The group split up (somewhat to Kesho’s dismay...less customers). On
the positive side, the girl and angry youth began to walk over to him. He
brightened, straightening himself up to look his most presentable.
"Aw, cripes..." Ryoga moaned as Ukyo dragged him to the flower stand. "We
should be buying important things! Not flowers!"
They’d been traveling for nearly two weeks since Ryoga’d woken up in
the hospital and found her at his bedside. He’d spent these two weeks
wondering about the significance of that little event. He was sure there was
one, and he was trying his damnedest to find as many as he could. He wasn’t
a deep or introspective person by nature, but he had his moments. They were
going to buy supplies, clothes, and such at Urawa, but the shopkeepers were
upset about the whole "reckless endangerment of property" thing and refused
to sell them. It was sheer luck that the five of them had come across this
little backwater village. Plus, they’re having some form of market thing. He
reached up and scratched his head with his free hand.
That was another thing. Ryu hadn’t cut his hair yet. Ryoga breathed a
silent thanks to the gods for that. Maybe that psychotic samurai would
forget all about it. Somehow, he doubted it. Well, at least he had it a
while longer. Sighing, he and Ukyo reached the flower stand. The vendor
looked weasely, Ryoga noted. He had that Hiroshi-esque quality about him.
"So, you are looking for some roses for the little lady, sir?" the vendor
said slyly. Ryoga opened his mouth to say something, but Ukyo’s glare told
him otherwise. He remained silent.
"First of all, I am not his little lady." Ukyo told the man matter-of-factly.
"We’re just good friends."
"Ah, I see." The vendor said. "My apologies, madam."
"S’Okay." Ukyo said cheerfully. "I was looking for a really special rose. For
my hair. I’m tired of this white ribbon."
The vendor nodded. "I see..." He said thoughtfully. After a few moments, he
dug under his stand and emerged with a leather case, locked tightly.
"You wanted something special, right?" the vendor said in a low voice. He
tapped the box lightly. Ukyo nodded excitedly. Ryoga rolled his eyes and
muttered something like "oh brother" under his breath. The vendor unclasped
the lock and cautiously opened the case. Ukyo’s eyes widened.
Sitting amidst the velvety insides was a single rose. It was unlike
any rose she’d ever seen before. It was the color of an emerald, and it was
so delicate she was afraid she’d kill it with a touch. The vendor grinned
slightly at her reaction.
"Like it?" he said softly. Ukyo nodded. Even Ryoga seemed slightly transfixed
by it. The vendor gently removed it from the case and held it up to their
eyes.
"It’s an emerald rose. The only one of its kind in the world. It’s magical."
The vendor whispered. Ukyo reached out and touched it gently. The vendor
drew it back, just out of her reach.
"It never wilts." He said with a smile, seeing her reaction to it. He
congratulated himself inwardly for being such a fine salesman. "It’s very
valuable."
Ukyo snapped back into reality.
she thought dryly.
"How much?" Ryoga said. Ukyo looked at him quizzically. She did have her own
money. The only reason he'd be asking would be if...
"Ryo-chan?" she said softly. "You’re buying it?"
Ryoga’s face flushed a bright crimson. He coughed nervously.
"Um, well, yeah." He said slightly. "I was thinking, you know...It’d look
nice...in your hair."
She smiled warmly at him. her mind whispered, filling her head
with thoughts she’d been trying to suppress. She shook them off and patted
his hand gently before turning back to the vendor.
"The price?" the vendor said, smiling. "The price is 200,000 yen."
Ryoga’s jaw almost hit the earth’s core. He looked at Ukyo, seeing
the disappointment covering her features. He frowned and sought desperately
for an answer. Sighing, he reached into his pocket and drew out something
wrapped in an old brown cloth. Unfolding it, he exposed a large, beautifully
cut diamond. The vendor drooled visibly over the sight of it. Ukyo gasped.
"Ryoga..." she said breathlessly, watching the sunlight sparkle through its
prismed surface. "Where did you get that?" There was an infinite silence,
and all he could do was look at the gem in his hands. Ukyo bit her lip
nervously. The vendor simply stared at the diamond as if it were the only
one he’d ever seen. Actually, it was.
"Well?" she said impatiently. "Where did you get that?"
She thought with no small worry. He didn’t
answer her, instead offering it to the vendor.
"Here." He said solemnly. "It...was a gift from my mother. It’s all I have of
value. I hope it’s enough..."
Ukyo gasped in disbelief. Was he really serious? Her eyes almost
began to well with small tears. No one had ever made such a gesture to her
before. It touched her, much more deeply than she thought it would.
Especially coming from him.
her mind interjected,
He was probably doing it as some kind of stupid macho cavalier
apology for the near-kiss in the hospital. That would just ruin the whole
memory. No, as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t let him do this.
"Wait a minute." she said sternly. "Ryoga, you’re not giving that up for some
stupid rose. Forget about it."
The vendor frowned. "Hey, lady!" he shouted. "What do you mean ‘stupid
rose’?"
Ryoga smiled genuinely, ignoring the shouts of the vendor completely.
He looked into her eyes, and she saw the truth in his words.
"But I want to, Ucchan." He said. "I want you to get that rose. You’d look
very...pretty...with it."
"P-pretty?" she stammered, trying not to sound too enthused. She noted her
cheeks burned, and imagined she must’ve turned a bright crimson color. She
cursed her overreaction bitterly. Gathering her resolve, she shook her head
defiantly.
"No." She said sternly. "Ryoga, I can’t. I can’t let you do this."
"I don’t recall you ever having to let me do anything, Ucchan." Ryoga said
smartly. Ukyo winced at that snap. That stung. Without another word, he
handed the wrapped diamond to the vendor, who stared stunned for a moment,
then handed Ryoga the flower with a shaking hand. Ukyo scowled. He hadn’t
listened to her at all!
"Hey, you big, pompous idiot!" she snarled. "Didn’t you listen to anything I
said-"
She stopped suddenly as he turned and, with one swift motion, untied
the white ribbon that tied her hair. The long auburn mane, freed of its
cloth prison, billowed out and drifted slightly in the breeze. Then, with
the second part of the same motion, he gently placed the rose in her hair,
so the thornless stem rested behind her ear. He smiled approvingly.
"See?" he said to the stunned okonomiyaki chef. "Very pretty."
She searched for something to say, but found nothing. Instead, all
she did was blush stupidly again. She cursed herself bitterly for acting
like a giddy schoolgirl with a teen crush. That wasn’t her at all. She shook
the feeling off. But, then she looked at his grinning face, those little
fangs...
"Yo, Ukyo." Ryoga said, waving his hand in front of her face. She shook her
head and snapped back into reality. "You okay?"
"Yeah, fine." She said nervously. She struck a fist against her chest and
grunted.
"That’s me. Tough as nails. Remember?" she said. He smiled and offered his
hand to her. She took it graciously and began to lead him towards the
others, who were part of a gathering crowd of people cheering something on.
****************************************************************************
"What’s going on?" Ukyo said as the two reached the pack of hooting and
cheering townspeople. Daisuke pointed to the two figures standing in the
middle of the ring of spectators.
"It’s a duel!" Daisuke said proudly, as if it were his idea. "A real duel,
just like at home in Nerima! See, there’s Upperclassman Kuno!"
Much to both Ukyo and Ryoga’s surprise, one of the two combatants was
in fact Upperclassman Tatewaki Kuno. Ukyo vaguely recalled his poetry
spouting persona "gracing" her "lowly" restaurant a few times. Ryoga vaguely
recalled beating him up a few times. Nearby stood a small man dressed in
black, wearing a ninja mask. Ryoga noticed Ryu was giving him an evil stare.
He shrugged it off. Ryu was a strange guy, after all.
Another big surprise was that Kuno wasn’t wielding the wooden bokken
they were so used to seeing him with. It was like part of him wasn’t there.
Like his arm was missing. However, it appeared Kuno had traded his bokken in
for the real thing, because he held in his right hand an ornate, very
well-crafted katana. It shone brightly in the fresh, only slightly cool
afternoon. A gently breeze tussled his hair. His opponent was what appeared
to be a local vendor. His shattered and diced stand lay in ruins nearby. The
man was cringing from the Kendo champion, sweating profusely.
"Unscrupulous scapegrace!" Kuno shouted, pointing his gleaming blade at the
poor merchant. "How dare a lowly layman such as yourself to have sold to I,
the great Tatewaki Kuno, an apple of such inferior quality?"
The sweating merchant bowed profusely.
"Please, good sir!" he said frantically. "The apple was ripe! It was of
excellent quality!" Kuno’s face twisted with anger, an anger still tempered
by his imperious demeanor.
"So, now does the lapdog call me nothing but a common liar? Well then, sir, I
say have at thee! Ha!" Kuno shouted, swinging his katana in a dazzling but
harmless display of swordsmanship. The vendor cringed, placing his hands
over his head protectively.
"No No No!" the vendor cried, terror echoing through his pleading words. "I
didn’t mean-"
"Silence, infidel!" Kuno declared, pointing the gleaming blade at his
cringing "opponent". Ryu scowled at the sight.
"Hmph." He said, sounding slightly disgusted. "That is not how a samurai is
to be acting."
Hiroshi, holding a shiskabob of meat and vegetables, shrugged.
"It’s Kuno." He replied simply. "Get use to it."
"True." Daisuke said, also holding one grabbed from a nearby vendor. "He’s always been like that."
Ukyo frowned as she watched this shameless assault on this obviously
poor man. She glared at Kuno bitterly, noting the pleasure he was seeming to
take from this. She hated people who picked on those that couldn’t defend
themselves. She’d always hated that. She looked from Hiroshi to Daisuke,
then to Ryu. No movement. No bravery at all. Sighing in frustration
inwardly, she turned to Ryoga.
"Well?" she said angrily. Ryoga’s face was crossed by a confused look.
"Well what?" he said defensively. "What did I do?"
Ukyo snarled at him in frustration. Didn’t he understand at all what
she was trying to tell him? Maybe he was more dense than she’d given him
credit for. Sighing, she brushed a long strand of her now-free hair aside
and looked into his eyes. He looked back at her, halfway clueless. It was a
look that drove her mad sometimes. Of course, sometimes it was so cute it
could melt her...
She shook the feeling off and threw her hands up in frustration. She
turned and stomped towards Kuno angrily. Hiroshi looked over at Ryoga, who
was still somewhat stunned, by the look on his face.
"Geez, what the hell’s wrong with her?" he said. Ryoga shrugged, watching the
girl he considered one of the most beautiful he’d ever seen walk towards
that pompous Kendoist from Furinkan. Distantly, he knew what she was going
to do. He started to step forward, but it was too late. She was already
there.
Kuno raised his sword, prepared to teach the disreputable cur before
him proper manners. Who was this man, after all, to sell him such an
ineffective piece of fruit? Kuno played the dishonorable act again in his
mind, pointing out to himself all the things that justified his current
assault. When he had thrown it into the air to slice it in twain, a
stylistic move only one as skilled with the blade as he could perform, and
the foolish apple dared not to split on the first strike! He had been
laughed at by the commoners of this backwater village for that folly, but
they would laugh at him no longer. Not after this message. He raised his
blade on high, noting with self-satisfaction how dramatic a pose it was he
was striking, and prepared to leave the merchant a clear reminder of
Tatewaki Kuno. Just then, someone tapped him on the back, halting the
descent of his shimmering sword from the heavens. He stopped for a moment,
and the dishonorable merchant clamored to his feet and escaped. Infuriated,
Kuno turned to see who it was that would dare to interrupt him.
Standing before his imposing visage was a moderately attractive girl
with long brown hair. In it, she wore a jade colored rose of remarkable
beauty. Her eyes were angry and cold, and her body was tense. Kuno sighed in
annoyance. It was obviously another one of his eager female admirers,
desperate to be near him. He chuckled, noting how very handsome he must be
for this girl to be fawning over him so.
"Yes, what is it, o lovely and adoring fan? Surely you have touched me
because it was so very difficult for you, having to maintain a distance from
one such as I." He said imperially. Strangely, the girl seemed...angry.
Ukyo could barely contain herself. Of all the pompous, egotistical
things she’d ever heard Tatewaki Kuno spout before, this one topped the
cake. He thought she was his adoring fan? That broke it. She hauled back
and, without stopping for a moment to think, brought her hand forward and
slapped him. Hard. The whole crowd gasped. She even noted (with some
enjoyment) Daisuke choked on his shiskabob. Then, there was an oppressive
ambiance of silence hanging in the air for what seemed like an eternity.
Kuno reached his hand up and gently cupped his reddened cheek,
stunned. He turned and stared at her. She held her breath, preparing for the
worst. She was fairly confident she’d be able to beat him, though. She’d
seen him attempt to beat Ranma many times. Attempt was an apt word, because
it had never been much of a fight. Hardened by this realization, she watched
him. He did something unexpected next...he chuckled. He bent over (being he
was a lot taller than her, she noted dryly) and peered at the rose in her
hair.
"Ah," he said in his normal, poetic tone. "Such a lovely rose, to be attached
to such a girl as you."
Ukyo frowned, not knowing whether or not it was meant as an insult to
her. She couldn’t tell at all from his calm, polite demeanor. All she could
do was watch him.
"Tis such a pity, really, to see it wilt away." He said softly, almost
regretfully. "A rose dying is one of beauteous nature’s most disheartening
sights."
He turned his back to her, the cold breeze whipping by. It seemed
like he was going to walk away with that statement. He turned and looked
back at her over his shoulder.
"Better the rose die quickly. I should like to free it from its destiny, lest
it slowly blacken in your presence." He said solemnly, then spun with
lightning speed back around, his blade glimmering in the sunlight.
It happened so fast, Ukyo didn’t realize at first what had happened.
Her mind recorded the images before it registered them. The katana sped
towards her head at a blinding speed, faster than she could react. She could
hear it, slicing through the air with cold accuracy and blind determination.
She wanted to move, to dodge, but her reflexes were frozen, transfixed by
this sight. The blade sliced into the rose she wore, and its soft, silken
petals yielded to the sharpened steel easily, and the blade passed through
it with a wisp. The delicate flower fell to the ground in two clean pieces,
dropping petals like drips of emerald blood as it fell earthward. Kuno
ceased turning, stopping in a kneeling position, head down, blade
outstretched, his other hand gripping the katana's scabbard. The deathly
silence seeped in for another eternity. Then, as much as she tried in vain
to fight them, the tears came, welling at the corners of her hardened eyes
like pools of sorrow. Kuno chuckled and sheathed the sword, staring at her
with arrogant, blazing eyes.
"There is no need for my thanks, girl." He said in his normal, imperial
demeanor. "Tis a fine thing I have done this day, and to allow you to stand
in the presence of Tatewaki Kuno is reward enough."
Ukyo was stunned silent. She couldn’t react at all to his attitude,
to him. He was arrogant beyond all concepts of the word. He thought he'd
done her a favor? Her mind tried desperately to grasp the concept of one as
arrogant, as vain, and as completely clueless as this man. She took a shaky,
uncertain step backward, then another, and turned and ran down the street.
She shoved her way through the crowds of people, not hearing their words nor
caring if she did. It was gone. In one fell swoop, it had been cut short by
a complete idiot. One slip up, and it was her fault. She couldn’t take it.
She had to be away. She didn’t want to see anyone. She turned a corner and
sped into a back alley, the tears sliding down her smooth cheeks in streams,
herself too angry to notice them.
Ryoga stared at Ukyo as she sped off down the street, crying. He
could feel it deep inside him, that burning, brewing, festering hatred
swelling in his soul. It threatened to burst its prison and pour into his
burning brain, tearing into his very sanity like a wild animal. He turned
and glared at the poetry-spouting Kendoist with a look of deathly cold
hatred, icy and steel. He took a step forward. Nearby, Hiroshi glanced at
him and frowned. Swallowing his fears, he approached his friend and placed a
hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, man," he said, still holding his shiskabob in his free hand. He tried
his best to look serious. "Don’t. It’s not worth the trouble."
Ryoga looked down at the broken rose, its delicate petals drifting in
the cold breeze, and images of her, tears in her eyes, crying, filled his
mind. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her cry before. Well, there was the
time Ranma had married Akane, but that was understandable. But this was
something else. Something trivial.
His mind pondered. He glared back at
Hiroshi with a look that said everything. Hiroshi released his friend and
stood back. Daisuke stood beside him, watching intently. He stepped out of
the circle of people and faced the smirking Kendoist with a glare of pure
hatred.
"You..." he said, anger seething into his words. Kuno chuckled and ran a hand
through his hair.
"What is this?" he said, amused. "Another fan of the great Tatewaki Kuno, no
doubt impressed by my display of swordsmanship. Do not worry, raggedy boy.
Someday you shall hope to be half as skilled as I."
Ryoga felt his blood churn and boil in his veins, pumping hot through
him. He raised a finger and pointed at Kuno.
"I'm challenging you, Kuno!" he shouted. "I’m gonna make you pay for what you
just did!"
Kuno chuckled. What was this? Another cur challenging him? This would
prove most amusing.
"Ah, then thou art the knavish beloved of that rude wench, eh?" he sneered,
drawing his sword. "As you wish it, then. I shall grant you permission to
duel with me! Come, and I shall have at thee!"
Ryoga didn’t need permission. As soon as the blade was drawn, the
battle had begun. He charged forward, leaping up and flinging three of his
razor sharp bandannas at the still standing kendoist. Kuno sneered and
struck each bandanna with lightning speed, slicing them harmlessly in twain
as each soared by, then bringing the shining blade back into a defensive
position. Ryoga careened earthward with a drop kick, but Kuno saw it coming
and brought his blade up, deflecting the blow with the flat while at the
same time grasping Ryoga’s shirt with his free hand and throwing him. Ryoga
twisted in midair and landed on his feet, facing his opponent. Kuno brought
the sword back up and chuckled. It shone brightly in the noonday sunlight.
"Feh." He mused. "Mayhaps this will prove a more worthy battle than I had at
first surmised." He said, charging forward to attack. Ryoga stepped back as
Kuno unleashed a blinding flurry of stabs at him, tearing into the air
itself.
"Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike!" he yelled as the rain of sharpened steel
increased in power. Ryoga dodged strike after strike, matching their
swelling intensity, but winced as he felt one slash graze his side, tearing
a small gash into his flesh.
Kuno saw the momentary opening and swung the blade for a killing
blow. He wished to finish this parlor game as soon as possible. He watched
with no surprise as the blade sailed through the air towards it target,
confident of yet another stunning victory. Then, suddenly, he felt a strong
hand grasp his wrist. Using the swinging Kuno for leverage, Ryoga flipped
over the strike and landed behind him, swiftly delivering a kick to the back
of the "Blue Thunder’s" head, sending him stumbling forward. He did turn
around, just in time for Ryoga’s fist to smash into his face, breaking blood
vessels and twisting cartilage as Kuno was suddenly (and painfully) thrust
into a hazy world of pain. Straining to see, he had no time to avoid another
strike to his jaw, and he grimaced as he felt it snap under this cad’s
unfocused rage. Desperately, Kuno swung his blade at his opponent, but
frowned as best he could when he felt it stop suddenly. As his hazy vision
cleared, he saw the bandannaed boy clutching the blade in one hand tightly.
A trickle of blood flowed down the steel from the boy’s hand, the blade
digging deep into his skin with the force he held it.
Kuno watched in terror as the sword was jerked from his hand and
tossed out into the crowd. He gave one last look at the savage boy, grinning
at him, before another fist connected with his face, smashing, breaking, and
snapping. Then another. Ryoga released a flurry of punches and kicks, all
hitting, not caring what they hit. Finally, the Kendoist fell to his knees,
blood flowing from his mouth as he coughed more of it onto the street,
gagging. His badly broken nose also poured blood freely, and his body was
dented by massive bruises already starting to form. Ryoga looked down at him
with a mixture of pity and disgust before kicking him solidly in the ribs
and sending him away from the pain, into blessed unconsciousness. He turned
and looked at Ryu, who nodded and approached, inspecting the wounds on his
hand and side carefully.
"You was lucky." he said solemnly, examining the lost boy. "You is not hurt
too bad. However, I think you should have the scar on this hand, okay?"
Ryoga nodded, dismissing it. He'd had scars before. They were kind of
like trophies, in a way. Symbols of the fact he'd survived. He looked
around, but didn’t see what it was he was looking for. Hiroshi walked up to
him and patted his shoulder. Daisuke was poking the unconscious Kuno with
his shiskabob poker. Sasuke knelt nearby, weeping over his "Master Kuno".
Ryu eyed the ninja warily.
"Where?" Ryoga asked the light haired boy. Hiroshi pointed down the back
alley with his free hand.
"She went that way, Hibiki." he said. Ryoga nodded and exhaled deeply,
glancing down at the broken rose at his feet. It was alive until Kuno's
blade brought it to its knees. Now, laying in a gathering silken sea of its
own petals, the rose died. Ryoga had to give Kuno credit as the mystical
flower quickly withered and blackened before his eyes. A rose dying was a
terrible thing.
"She'll be okay." He said to Hiroshi with mock resolve. "She's tough. She
told me so." Hiroshi frowned and shook his head.
"Go to her." He said, looking into Ryoga’s furious eyes. They seemed to calm
somewhat. "We’ll deal with cleanup duty."
Ryoga nodded and ran off in the direction she’d gone. Maybe he’d
misjudged Hiroshi a lot. He turned the alley and sped down it, ignoring the
pain festering in his tightened fist and his abdomen. Hiroshi watched him go
with a grin of self satisfaction. He turned to the crowd and clapped his
hands.
"All right, gamblers and gamblerettes, time to pay up." Those that had chosen
to bet with Hiroshi began to empty their pockets. The light-haired boy
grinned.
Easy money.
*****************************************************************************
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