(C&C welcome. Not to mention needed)

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THE FORGOTTEN GAME
By: Angela Jewell
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Based on the trilogy The Forbidden Game by L.J. Smith

Ranma 1/2 is the creation and property of Rumiko Takahashi . . . I know some other people and/or companies own it as well, but I’m too lazy to look up who they are. So please don’t sue me . . . money is something I have very little of.

*** Volume 1: Spellbound ***

Somewhere between day and night
the winter crawled in
little bits
of darkness
explored old dreams
revisited
past nightmares
behind open doors
of close memories.

-Annette Hendley

*** Chapter 11 ***

Akane stared down at the piece of paper in her hand, not really seeing it.

Though she tried to block it out, she could still hear the haunting sounds of the familiar clock; its chimes striking the hour, relentless and loud as it intruded upon the deadly quiet of the hall. But Akane couldn’t seem to make herself move for anything. She felt empty and drained, her eyes burning as she continued to stare at the only thing left of her sister.

Kasumi—kind, sweet, and innocent. Whose biggest fear had been a crumpled piece of paper littering an otherwise tidy room . . . who always saw the best in everyone; no matter who they were, or what they’d done. To force someone like that to confront creatures out of their worst nightmare—to come face-to-face with horrors beyond their most terrible imaginings—it wasn’t fair.

There had to be a catch, a loop-hole, something—some way for Gabriel to bring Kasumi back into the game. He had given her an out with his riddle before . . . surely he could think of another. After all, Kasumi was off limits. Everyone knew that. Shouldn’t she get some sort of do-over? A free spin, or an extra life? If Gabriel insisted, Akane would even kiss him as many times as he wanted—he could touch her, and she wouldn’t take a swing.

Just as long as the reward was her sister.

Akane allowed those thoughts to propel her to her feet. All this time, she had barely registered Shampoo and Ukyo hovering beside her; of Nabiki standing against the wall, watching her with interest. But she was acutely aware of their presence now—all the more so because they held no place in her current thoughts. At the moment, her mind was focused on one thing, and one thing only: Finding Gabriel.  

She’d make him fix this.

As the sound of the echoing chimes began to fade away, the hall was shrouded in silence once more. But whether it was a good omen or a bad one, Akane didn’t know. And she didn’t care.

Either way, she needed to ditch the others. . .

T * * * G

Ukyo continued to watch Akane closely; not liking the look in her eyes one bit. That girl was up to something. She could taste it.

Of course it wouldn’t take a scientist (or even Nabiki) to figure that one out. Just moments ago, Akane had been on the brink of collapse, fighting a losing battle with grief. Then suddenly she was back to herself, life shining behind eyes that had been dead only moments before.

Akane’s change had come out of nowhere, as quickly as the sudden droning from that damn annoying clock.

It didn’t make any sense. At one point, Ukyo was convinced she’d have to scoop her up with her spatula and try carrying her . . . but now, here she was, her eyes scanning the hall, acting as if nothing was wrong. What could possibly be going on in that head of hers? She couldn’t possibly think Kasumi was alive somewhere, could she? How could anyone have survived that mess?

Still, Ukyo understood *her* reaction—she had watched her go through the entire spectrum of grieving right before her very eyes.

But Nabiki . . . now she was a mystery.

Akane’s grief had been an open wound—deep, raw, and frightening in its intensity—yet plain for all to see. But her sister Nabiki acted like she didn’t bear a wound at all. Ukyo was sure there was more going on here than a simple case of ice-queen withdrawal, but she had no way to prove it or explain it.

In any case, her reaction was far from normal. She’d stood there, watching dispassionately from outside the hall as her older sister was crushed and buried in a room full of trash . . . and then, when Akane was in the midst of her nervous breakdown, she’d done nothing but stand there, silent.

Ukyo had always assumed that when the chips were down, Nabiki would step-up and act human just like the rest of them. Today however, she’d been proven wrong.

Was it all an act? Or did Nabiki know something they didn’t . . .?

Either way, Ukyo didn’t have time to dwell on it. Akane was suddenly clearing her throat as she tried to get all of their attention, a look of determination shining in her clear brown eyes. Ukyo actually sighed in relief. It seemed the other girl was finally ready to resume the game.

“We need to split up,” Akane announced, looking at each of them in turn. Though she had flirted briefly with the idea of simply bolting . . . the thought of leaving Nabiki behind to fend for herself had given her pause. In the very least, splitting up would ensure her sister’s safety.

“Split up?” Ukyo asked, watching her warily. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Akane? All that’s left is you and Ryoga, right? Don’t you think it would be quicker sticking together?”

Akane shook her head, having already considered this very argument. “Who knows how long it could take to find him,” she told her. “It’s not like Ryoga’s the type to sit still and wait for us—” like Kasumi, she thought, but couldn’t bring herself to say. “But if we split up, maybe we can find the last two doors and get them both over and done with. Nabiki faced her nightmare alone, didn’t she? Maybe—maybe the same could be true for Ryoga and I. Anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to try,” she added with a shrug.

Shampoo and Nabiki looked like they didn’t care one way or the other, and eventually Ukyo grudgingly nodded. “Alright then,” she agreed, “we split up.”

T * * * G

It was quickly decided that Shampoo would go with Nabiki, and Akane and Ukyo would go together—though in all honesty, Akane would have much preferred Shampoo. She trusted Ukyo a lot more with her sister than she did the Amazon. But Ukyo  must have somehow sensed something was up. She had stubbornly insisted on going with Akane, and had been unwilling to bend even an inch.

Akane had grinned and bared it.

But now, after walking down the same hall for what seemed hours, she was beginning to regret not putting up more of a fight. Shampoo she could have easily ditched by now—just a simple, “hey, I’m going on ahead,” and she could have met Gabriel and saved Kasumi already. But the other girl was proving to be frustratingly obstinate. Akane had kindly suggested Ukyo sit down and take a rest while she went on ahead—but the chef had turned her down flat, insisting they stay together.

Now here she was, right back where she started—trying to figure out the best way to ditch her stubborn companion. And worse, she could feel time slipping away as the hallway continued to stretch on before her; no turns or stairs in sight.

Akane was quickly growing desperate. If she explained her plan to Ukyo, she doubted the other girl would simply smile and agree to stay put. More than likely, she’d want a piece of Gabriel for herself—one good hard whack for all the hell he’d put her through. So what other choice was there except to sprint on ahead, and pray the other girl couldn’t keep up? Without a spatula strapped to her back, Akane definitely held the advantage, and jogging every morning had given her decent enough stamina . . . but she also knew better than to underestimate the girl behind her.

If nothing else, Ukyo could be frighteningly tenacious when crossed. Like Shampoo, she’d managed to track down Ranma and Mr. Saotome easily enough, hadn’t she? And the only place Akane had to escape to was straight ahead. . .

Still, there were no other options, and she couldn’t afford to waste anymore time.

It was a chance she was going to have to take.

Akane took several long, deep breaths, preparing her lungs for the journey ahead. First though, she glanced casually over her shoulder to check how much of a lead she’d been granted—more than she’d feared, but less than she’d hoped. Luckily for her, Ukyo seemed distracted. She had turned her attention to the wall now, her eyes tracing over the complex patterns, seemingly unaware of her companion’s plans.

Even more so, Akane was careful not to draw suspicion. She slowly picked up her pace, steadily drawing out the space between them—silently relieved that Ukyo seemed more interested in the wallpaper than in her.

And then, when she was ready, she took one more long deep breath, gave a silent prayer—and ran.

Almost immediately she could hear Ukyo shouting behind her, her voice raised in anger as she quickly gave chase; her demands to stop going ignored. All of Akane’s willpower was focused on not turning to glance behind her . . . afraid that if she did, she’d prove to be the stupid klutz Ranma always accused her of being. Instead, she kept her eyes glued straight ahead—determined to keep them that way.

And yet, no matter how hard or how fast she ran, the hallway continued to stretch on like before—a one-way path that showed no signs of ending. With a sinking feeling, Akane realized she couldn’t keep this pace up forever.

Something had to change.

Another idea came to her—just as stupid as the last—but again, what other choice did she have? Akane didn’t slow her pace in the slightest. Still running at top speed, she cupped both hands over her mouth, and yelling at the top of her lungs, shouted: “Gabriel, I need to talk to you! NOW!”

She could hear the sound of her companion’s footsteps following closely behind, Ukyo’s voice incredulous and shrill as she shouted back, “What are you thinking, Akane? You SHOULD be calling for Ryoga—not that jackass!”

Akane didn’t waste her energy answering her, and to her relief, her silence was soon rewarded.

Within seconds a bright light exploded from out of nowhere, blindingly intense as it began to quickly envelop the entire hall. Akane immediately closed her eyes stopped running, her hands seeking the familiar solidarity of the wall beside her.

When the light had finally receded, she cautiously opened one eye—surprised to find herself once again in the dark, with only a lone candle on the wall across from her to light the way.

But it didn’t take Akane long to remember her pursuer. Turning around, she saw that the  hallway was now empty. Ukyo was gone.

Well that was easy, she thought with a smile. She was sure Ukyo was fine. More than likely Gabriel had dumped her back with Shampoo and Nabiki, or maybe even Ranma. The okonomiyaki chef had already faced her own nightmare, after all—and from what Akane understood, that meant she was now off limits. At least . . . she hoped that’s what it meant. It wouldn’t do to have to search for Ukyo AND Ryoga once she finished here.

Still, Akane felt encouraged. Gabriel wouldn’t have helped her ditch Ukyo simply to gloat—he had the upper hand now, and she was sure he’d be willing to make a deal.

With that thought spurring her on, Akane turned back around. Only to come up short.

She was at a dead-end, facing a blank wall.

Akane frowned in disappointment. For once, she had expected to find Gabriel standing before her, not to find her route suddenly blocked. But then, something on the ground caught her attention. It was lying several feet away at the base of the wall, and Akane stared down at it, feeling uneasy.

It looked . . . like a piece of paper.

Moving nearer, she bent down to take a closer look. It WAS a piece of paper, she realized, and something told her that it looked familiar. With trembling fingers, she forced herself to pick it up, though the feeling of foreboding grew stronger with each passing second.

The paper was unnaturally white and glossy in her hand—the surface as empty as it had been the moment she’d first removed it from the box of the game. This had been the paper for her nightmare then; the one she hadn’t bothered to draw. Troubled, her eyes returned to the wall suddenly blocking her path.

“So,” a voice spoke up, confidently arrogant, “did you miss me?”

Akane stiffened at the sound of his voice, temporarily thrown off guard. . .

Gabriel seemed to have a knack for showing up at the worst possible moment; namely, whenever she least expected him to. But he HAD shown up, she congratulated herself; which meant her plan had worked. Standing slowly, she took care to school her expression, determined to be as unreadable as possible. Still, after she turned around, she paused; thrown off once again by his unnatural beauty.

Gabriel looked perfect—just like he always did. The brightness of his blue eyes were flashing against the pale light from the lamp, his blood-red clothing fitting his body like a second skin; they mingled with the darkness of the shadows, making him appear even more unearthly and beautiful than ever.

And yet, as Akane watched him, she couldn’t get the image of Kasumi’s face out of her mind. Her dress had been torn, her face dirty, her hair a tangled mess as she struggled through pile after pile of rancid garbage.

And here was Gabriel. Not a speck of dirt on him.

Akane had to force herself to stop and take a deep, calming breath—silently reminding herself of the reason she was here—why she’d been so determined to speak with him in the first place. “I want you to give Kasumi back to me,” she told him, struggling to keep her voice under control—to make it clear this was a request, not a demand.

But Gabriel only shook his head, looking amused. “Now why in the world would I do that?” he asked her, his tone reproachful. “I warned you before, didn’t I? I told you someone would die. . .”

Akane took a small step towards him. “I know that,” she told him, her voice close to breaking. “But why—why did it have to be Kasumi?!”

“Should I have taken Nabiki instead?” he asked her, almost gently.

With difficulty, Akane lowered her eyes, suddenly ashamed. “No. No, of course not,” she told him forcefully. “I just . . . please, I just want my sister. I’ll kiss you if you want—I’ll do just about anything—just please, give her back to me!”

Gabriel looked at her, a softness touching his expression. “I can’t rescind an offer that’s already been rejected,” he told her, and with his eyes on her, he took a small step forward. “But I can bring her back, Akane. I want to bring her back to you.”

“Then do it,” she all but pleaded.

He paused for a moment, his blue eyes intense as he watched her. And then he said, very quietly, “You can’t possibly win. You must know that by now. That wall,” he explained, gesturing to the blank wall behind her, “is the entrance to your nightmare. Without a door, you can’t hope to face it—and if you can’t face it, you can’t win.”

Akane gleamed only one important detail from that logic. “But if I win—if I beat you—then you have to give her back! You can’t just keep her here!”

Like a door slamming closed, his expression grew fierce; any trace of gentleness vanishing right along with it. With a speed Akane didn’t know he possessed, Gabriel moved towards her, forcing her up against the wall as both of his hands shot out to trap her there. When Gabriel spoke, his words were filled with bitterness, and laced with warning. “Stop thinking you have a chance to win this, Akane. You CAN’T. You WON’T—because I won’t LET you.”

The fire in his gaze made her catch her breath, and again, Akane realized how dangerous the man standing before her could be. And though her mind knew this, like before, her pride refused to give even an inch. “If you’re trying to intimidate me into giving up, it’s not going to work. . .”

A frustrated growl escaped his lips at her continued show of defiance, and Gabriel narrowed his eyes dangerously. “Do I need to remind you of what happened the LAST time I put a deal on the table for you and you refused it? Should I take the wandering idiot next?” he asked her, his voice tight, “or maybe Ranma? How many people need to die before you start taking me seriously? Is your freedom—is your pride—really worth the lives of your family and friends?”

“Of course it’s not.”

“Then what is it you want,  Akane?” he interrupted her, his voice pained. “I can give you everything. I can make you happier than you ever dreamed—happier than that boy could ever hope to!” With his eyes trained on her, he leaned closer, his splayed fingers curling into fists. “So why? Why won’t you be mine?!”

Akane stared at him in disbelief; the answer so clear, she was surprised she had to explain it at all. “Do you honestly not know?” she demanded testily. “You kidnapped my family and friends, Gabriel. You’ve tortured them, threatened me, and you still can’t figure out why I don’t like you?” Pausing, she searched his eyes—looking for some sign that he understood—that he realized what he was doing was wrong. But Gabriel only stared back with an innocent frustration that seemed as foreign on his face as the irises of his eyes. “When you like someone,” she went on slowly, “you let them make their own choice . . . you don’t force and manipulate them like this.”

“My  world is different from yours,” he answered simply. “I want you, Akane. And this is the only way I can have you.”

“But I’m not some possession,” she shot back quietly. “I’m not some prize to be won. Even if I lose and have to stay here, I’ll hate you—I’ll never forgive you for doing this to me!”

Gabriel’s expression remained firm. “You’ll have an eternity to change your mind,” he told her sharply, and Akane silently fumed as she tore her eyes from his.

Apparently his skull was thicker than even Ranma’s—trying to talk sense into him was like trying to teach P-Chan not to act like a pig. It just wasn’t in their nature. Suddenly, Akane felt resigned. “You’re not going to give Kasumi back to me, are you?” she asked at length, disheartened. “If I want her back, I have to surrender—that’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

With effort, he lowered his arms and finally stepped away from her. “Well no, not exactly,” Gabriel admitted.

At that, Akane immediately brightened, and a relieved smile crossed her face. “So if I win I CAN get Kasumi back, right. . .? I’m right, aren’t I?!”

Gabriel didn’t offer a reply, but gave a curt nod.

All of a sudden, Akane couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She put a hand to her heart, relieved beyond measure. There was hope then—once again, she felt encouraged. But then a suspicion crossed her mind, and her heart fell. “She’ll be okay, won’t she?” she demanded, trying to tramp down the image of a cold, dead Kasumi lying broken by the koi pond.

“She’ll be fine,” he assured her offhandedly. “Not that it matters. You’ve already lost, Akane . . . you just don’t realize it yet.”

 Akane’s expression remained firm. “I have no intention of losing,” she told him as she turned her attention back towards the blank piece of paper clutched in her hand.

“Then it seems we’re at an impasse,” Gabriel replied, gesturing to the wall behind her. “Tell me, what will you do now Akane? Break the wall, pound it? Yell and scream as the little time you have left continues to run out?”

Akane shook her head, not looking the least bit fazed. “No, not at all,” she replied, as she reached into the pocket of her skirt and withdrew a crayon she’d stowed away earlier; holding it as tightly as she would a lifeline. Surprise showed briefly on Gabriel’s face as he noticed the innocent piece of orange wax, and then he gave a resigned sigh.

“Akane,” he began uncertainly.

Akane ignored him. “A door,” she said softly, more to herself than to him. She looked back at Gabriel, conviction in her eyes. “I may not remember everything . . . but I know it started with a door.” Gripping the paper in one hand and the crayon in the other, she bent down and began to draw in earnest—a large orange rectangle, followed by a lopsided oval that was supposed to signify a doorknob.

Without warning, a deafening sound, like wood cracking, exploded down the length of the hallway, and Akane turned, watching in fascination as a tall rectangular shape began to carve itself into the smooth structure of the wall before her. Before long, the wall was no longer blank, and Akane found herself staring at an old wooden door; hauntingly familiar.

“Akane. . .” Gabriel tried again, his voice low and measured as he called out to her, and against her better judgment, Akane turned to regard him again. “Are you sure you want to remember this?” he asked her, his eyes full of honest concern—and silent warning. “If you give in now, you won’t have to go through it all again. . .”

For the briefest of moments, Akane actually found herself hesitating.

Did she really want to do this, she wondered? This memory. . . that door. . . she had blocked it out for a reason, hadn’t she? Gabriel knew what waited for her on the other side, and she knew it was nothing good.

But then, effortlessly, she’d remember Shampoo—terrified but fighting anyway—Ukyo and Nabiki, fierce and determined, despite their fear. And Kasumi . . . gone now . . . and all because of the man standing before her. And suddenly Akane was ashamed for hesitating for even a second.

Crumpling up the drawing in her hand, she felt the uncertainty drain away. “I can’t run from it forever,” she told him. And then, before she could change her mind, Akane took a hold of the doorknob and pulled open the door, stepping within.

Gabriel watched her go, his eyes unreadable as the door swung closed behind her. “You fool,” he muttered softly before he too disappeared, leaving the hallway in total darkness.

T * * * G

She remembered this room.

It was her grandfather’s basement . . . his secret study.

As a child it had been kept under lock and key, closed off to Akane and her sisters no matter how many times they begged and pleaded to take a look inside. As a result, the room had cost her many sleepless nights—nights she’d spent wide awake, imagining all the treasures that lay just beyond that forbidden door.

And then one day, Nabiki dared her to step inside. . .

Now, after so many years, here she was again—feeling just like a five year old, who’d just discovered that monsters were real. Like before, an eerie stillness filled the room, stifling in its intensity, making it seem as if she were standing in the middle of a faded photograph, forever frozen in this exact moment of time. And Akane still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was a trespasser—that even now, she wasn’t supposed to be here.

Something very bad happened in this place, she thought, her eyes surveying the room.

On the surface, there didn’t seem to be anything special about it. A desk stood against the front wall, papers strewn carelessly over its surface, a globe sitting proudly on its upper shelf. An oddly shaped lamp from Africa stood tall on a small table to its left, providing the only light in the room, dim though it was.

Across the room, on the other side of the study, was a wide bookcase that stretched across the far wall, its shelves overflowing with ancient tomes, scrolls, and books of all shapes and sizes. A leather chair rested beside it with a small matching footrest. Overall, the room itself was very neat and tidy, aside from the desk. But the lack of windows and the overabundance of dry, brittle paper, left the air feeling stuffy and damp.

But there, the harmless facade ended.

There was a sense of wrongness that hung about the room—permeating danger and ill-will for anyone who entered. It was unnatural and evil, and Akane couldn’t understand for the life of her what her grandfather could ever want with such a room. Akane herself wanted to be very, very far away . . . the urge to flee was overwhelming.

Even so, she could almost hear Ranma’s voice in her head, surprisingly comforting despite its teasing tone—“Dummy, you’re afraid of a room?! Hah—and you call yourself a martial artist!”

That’s right, she reminded herself. I’m a martial artist. I can’t be afraid of some dumb study. Sure, it’s creepy . . . but that globe, that lamp . . . everything looks harmless enough.

Akane wasn’t able to completely convince herself of that fact, and before she could truly commit herself to it, she heard the sound of a door creaking open behind her; and instinctively, she froze. She knew the door she’d entered through had disappeared the moment she stepped through . . . and yet, for some reason her body refused to let her glance behind; as if afraid to see what she’d find.

Luckily, she didn’t need to. Suddenly, a body moved into the peripheral of her vision, light footsteps betraying the fact that she was no longer alone. A girl, no older than five or six, walked right past her, her brown eyes wide with wonder and excitement; moving about the room as if Akane weren’t even there.

Akane recognized her instantly.

She was staring at herself. . .

And with that realization, a memory flashed—of Akane and her sisters sitting at their grandfather’s funeral, bored and restless; their mother dressed in white, crying before his altar as their father tried his best to comfort her. That’s right, Akane thought dazedly, her eyes returning to the short haired girl who was creeping silently through the room. Even though mom and dad forbid us to go anywhere near Grandpa’s study, Nabiki dared me to. . . and I couldn’t say no to a dare. Not even back then.

Akane continued to watch, transfixed, as her six-year old self climbed onto the chair near the desk, and reaching over spun the globe, giggling with forbidden pleasure at the small delight. But for some reason, the sight only infuriated Akane. How could she look so happy? Couldn’t she feel the danger—didn’t she realize she needed to get out of there?! Though she feared it was useless, Akane moved towards her younger-self anyway, her voice strained as she called out, “Dummy! You’re not supposed to be here—hurry up and leave!”

If the small girl heard, she didn’t respond. Instead, she jumped right off the chair, executing a sloppy drop-kick that cut through the air before she landed roughly on the ground, her arms spread out for balance. She looked pleased with herself; a grin on her face as she complimented herself on a job well done.

Akane was three-seconds away from trying to forcefully remove her from the room . . . until she heard a strange knocking sound.

It started low, barely audible, but to a curious and brave six year old, the sound might as well have been a nuclear explosion—her hands dropped from the drawer she’d started sifting through, her eyes immediately seeking the place where the sound had come from.

With her heart beating furiously in her chest, Akane watched the small one carefully, and then followed her gaze.

There, against the far wall, right alongside the bookcase, half-hidden, was another door. Strange markings were painted on the wood, making it clear it wasn’t your average broom closet. Akane had no idea how she could have missed it before—not with that strange symbol on the door that looked suspiciously like the rune she’d seen on one of the game cards—an inverted U, with a horizontal line cut straight through its center.

But like a fool, Akane watched helplessly as her younger-self continued to walk towards it—a silly grin plastered on her face as she imagined all the fun and interesting things that could lie behind that.

And Akane panicked. She couldn’t let her get to that door.

Moving fast, she reached out to hold her small form back, only to have both her hands go straight through—like mist slipping through her fingers. It didn’t slow the curious child one bit. And aside from throwing herself in front of the door, Akane didn’t know what else she could do. Her mind raced, heart pounding as she searched desperately for a solution, though none would come.

And then little-Akane had reached the door; her two small hands gripping the doorknob of the closet, turning it.

The knocking grew louder. . . but the door didn’t budge.

And suddenly, Akane knew what happened next—she could remember things all too clearly now. But like a marionette powerless to move on its own, she could do nothing but stand there and watch—helpless to prevent it.

Little-Akane knew none of this. She glared up at the door in silent condemnation—until her eyes fell back upon the strange symbol etched into the wood. As she stared at it, a voice from the closet seemed to whisper—“trace it.” And her little eyes filled with wonder at the sudden command.

Standing on tip toes, she hurried to obey—her tiny hands reaching up, moving slowly over the symbol as she traced it with the lightest of touches. Beneath her hand, the symbol began to pulse and glow. And suddenly, the door creaked open—a bright light spilling forth from out of the door, filling the room.

As the door opened, Akane sank to her knees, the memory of what came next painfully vivid, and she wanted to close her eyes, to shut it out . . . but this was her nightmare, and she knew she had to face it.

First, she heard a scream. The other Akane was standing frozen and terrified before the open door, the light having receded just far enough to allow her a glance inside.

There, a dozen eyes stared back at her, claws and teeth glinting in the darkness; and from deep within, voices began to murmur, an inhuman quality behind each one: “At last, free!” “I want the old man, give me the old man!” “She looks delicious!”

All this time, Akane’s younger self stood frozen, too terrified to move. And as she stood there, shaking in fear, the eyes in the closet began to grow bigger, as if headed towards the now open door.

From her place on the floor behind her younger-self, Akane noticed one pair of eyes in particular. They were smaller than the rest, as if belonging to a child—and somehow, they looked less frightening than the harsh red and yellow of the ones who had called out to her before. They were a breathtaking shade of blue, and at the time, she’d never seen anything so lovely—and though unnatural, there was something that made them seem almost human.

More than any of the others, those were the eyes her past-self chose to focus on; comforted by the lack of malice and hatred that was so clear in all the others.

And suddenly Akane knew.

Gabriel. . .

His voice drifted out of the darkness; not inhuman, but that of a young boy. “Please, let me have her! I want her!” But the other voices continued as if they hadn’t heard him: “She’s such a tiny thing—not much meat” “The old man—give me the man who trapped us here!!” “Ah, one human is as good as any other. . .” “I want her—please give her to me!”

Akane watched as her smaller-self fell to her knees, finally spent—and there she began to cry, her small frame shaking with her broken sobs.

That’s when Akane heard another voice—one she would have recognized anywhere.

“AKANE-CHAN! NO!”

A sudden overwhelming fear took hold as Akane turned towards the source of the sound—though the fear wasn’t for herself. “Mom,” she breathed, even as she watched her mother run towards her; her face pale, her blue eyes wide and frightened. Without hesitation, she threw herself towards her small daughter, her hands going around her, as little Akane, terrified, clung desperately, her face buried in the crook of her mother’s arm.

Beside them, Akane quietly shook, feeling numb.

Her mother was there, right in front of her, exactly as she remembered. She could smell her perfume, a subtle touch of lilac—could have touched her, though she knew her hand would go straight through. But Akane tried anyway. Lifting a trembling hand, she reached towards her mother, her eyes burning as it passed right through her, like she wasn’t even there. But her mother didn’t notice.

She tightened her grip on her small daughter before turning her attention to the the monsters advancing inside the closet. “You can’t have her,” she told them, her voice loud and commanding. With her free hand, she grabbed for the door, intending to slam it shut—but the second her hand touched it, she screamed out in pain as if she’d been burned.

“You can’t stop us,” one of them told her from within its dark encasement as another one hissed, “She’s ours now—the seal was broken.”

“She’s a child,” her mother replied angrily, cradling her injured hand to her chest. “She doesn’t understand—you have no right to take her!”

“Then give us something else,” one bid, the sound grating.

Akane watched her mother intently—watched as her expression grew taut, her eyes, resigned. She knew she couldn’t stop what was about to happen, but her voice still broke as she opened her mouth anyway, softly begging, “Mom, please—don’t.”

But her mother stared down at her younger-self, a look of determination and regret clear in her bright blue eyes. “Akane-honey. You have to be brave alright?” she told her, using her firm mother-voice and all the authority that went along with it.

Little Akane, with tears in her eyes, looked up, but nodded, trying to be brave; too young to understand the implications of her mother’s words. “I’ll help,” she said, curling her small hand into a fist, even though it trembled. “Just like daddy showed me.” Now her mother was crying. She hugged her tighter, before lifting her head to address the creatures beyond.

“Take me instead,” she told them, and Akane beside her, sobbed, trying to grab a shadow that she couldn’t touch no matter how hard she tried. “Mother, no! Please—I’m sorry.”

“A trade is it?” “Lots more meat on that one” “The man—give me the old man!” And then, again, Gabriel. “No—I want the other. Please, give her to me!”

Her mother stood up suddenly, pushing Akane behind her protectively. “You will not touch my daughter,” she told them, her voice harsh. “I have offered a fair trade. You MUST honor it!”

At her words, a terrifying sound, like a million tortured screams, erupted from within the closet, and then, suddenly, all the eyes seemed to blink out at once. When it was over, one large pair of emerald green was left alone, staring out from the darkness. “Trade accepted. Erase the symbol and come inside,” it ordered.

Now the little girl was pulling on her mother’s dress. “Mommy, no! Let me fight. I want to fight!” Even now, her mother was smiling as she turned once more to her daughter.

“Akane-chan, I’m sorry . . . I love your father and you girls very much. You know that right?” Akane, still not completely understanding, nodded—though she didn’t loosen her grip on her mother’s dress one bit. For now, her mother let her.

Kimiko Tendo moved towards the door, staring hard at the symbol etched across it; then, biting her finger hard enough to draw blood, she began to slowly smear it across its indented tracks, the symbol glowing briefly wherever the blood touched. When she was finished, the entire symbol flickered for a moment, like a candle whose flame was fighting to stay lit—but in the end, that light too, also faded.

Standing before the door, she looked once more at Akane, and smiled sweetly. “I’ll always be with you,” she assured her. And then, with light, gentle fingers, she carefully removed her daughter’s hand from off her dress. With her smile still firmly in place, she stepped inside—the door slamming closed behind her. 

Akane, child and teen, watched as the symbol on the door vanished right along with their mother.

T * * * G

For a long time, Akane could do nothing but stare at the door.

She remembered what happened after that—even without the aid of the macabre play to remind her. She’d sobbed and banged on the closet door for what seemed like hours—crying out for her mother, her small fist battered and bruised from her futile battle with the door. Finally, somehow, she managed to get it open. But by then it was empty—just an ordinary broom closet; free of monsters and all the evil contained therein.

That’s how her father finally found her . . . sitting inside the closet, crying, her head buried in her lap. She told him all about the monsters; about how they’d taken her mother, and how she’d been unable to fight them. During all of this, her father had remained strangely silent, listening carefully. Then, once she’d finished, he’d wiped away her tears, and explained gently that her mother and grandfather had been dead for a week, that it wasn’t her fault, and it was okay for her to be sad. So saying, he started to cry himself, calling out for his beloved wife . . . and the tears never truly stopped.

At the time, Akane hadn’t understood why no one believed her—why they kept insisting it was a car accident when she knew very well the demons were to blame. But after awhile, she found it much easier to accept the lie rather than face the truth. Embracing the lie allowed her to sleep, and didn’t upset Kasumi, Nabiki, and her father nearly as much.

But now, she had relived it all over again, and she knew the truth.

Their mother was gone, and it was all her fault. . .

Shivering, Akane wrapped her arms tightly around herself, suddenly cold. It was sort of funny how she couldn’t cry anymore—as though all her tears had simply dried up. Instead she sat there, staring straight ahead; feeling as much like a shadow as the monsters inhabiting this world.

Faintly, she heard movement behind her, and she turned, uncaring, to see a door—the exit from her nightmare. For the briefest of moments, she was tempted to stay right where she was—to end this stupid game here and now. They were here because of her after all—what right did she have to even participate?

But then she’d remember her mother’s brave, smiling face—free of blame or hate—and Kasumi, looking terrified and haunted, her eyes begging for help. She may have been to blame for her mother—but it was the demons who ultimately stole them from her. She couldn’t let them win.

Akane wasn’t even sure how she made it to the exit. But before she knew it, the door was open and she was stepping outside, though her legs felt like rubber beneath her. Like a true klutz, she almost stumbled and fell. . .

. . .But arms, powerfully strong, caught her and held her up, preventing her from falling flat on her face. Akane, her eyes on the ground, gave a tired sigh, and then looking up, her eyes widened as she noticed who it was that caught her.

“Ran--Ranma. . .?!”

“Hey, tomboy. You okay?”

She blinked hard several times, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Unlike before with Ukyo’s nightmare, he not only looked like Ranma, he felt like him too. But still, Akane found herself hard-pressed to believe it. “Ranma?” she said again, “Is . . . is it really you?”

He grinned for her, his familiar blue eyes shining. “Of course it’s me, stupid. Who were you expecting? The panda?”

Akane felt her doubts wash away . . . and suddenly, her eyes didn’t feel dry anymore. Latching onto his familiar red shirt, she buried her head in his chest as she began to cry anew; holding nothing back. Ranma held her in his arms, stroking her hair with his hand, comforting her in the best way he knew how.

And behind them, the door to her nightmare finally closed.

***

End of Chapter 11

***

Authors Notes

Sorry it took so long. Things will become more clear in Chapter 12.

Oh, and I recently revised chapter one, so I apologize for any inconsistencies it may have caused in the chapters that follow . . . but it was TERRIBLY in need of a rewrite.

Also if you haven’t already noticed, I regularly update my profile page with news on the status of all my stories, as well as links to fan-art I’ve had commissioned on deviantart. So be sure to check it out from time to time if curious.

CHAPTER 12
(coming soon)