DISCLAIMER: Ranma 1/2 is property of Rumiko Takahashi, no 
profit is being made from this story.  Michi Hirugashi is 
my own property - if you'd like to engage her for a gig 
(aka fiction or sidestory), I'm sure she'd be interested, 
just so long as you ask for permission from me first.

ARCHIVE: The Penultimate Ranma 1/2 Fanfiction Archive, The 
Ranma 1/2 Superhighway, and Phu's Anime Page have my 
pecexpress permission, everyone else *PLEASE* ask first! 

SUMMARY: What if something happened that made *none* of the 
fiancées want to marry Ranma any more?  What if he was 
abandoned, and the home that he'd so desperately needed and 
had later grown to love in his youth became too hurtful to 
think of?  And then - what if - years later Ranma returned 
to Tokyo's embrace and fell deeply into something he could 
not control?  First Hubris, then Tragedy, then Catharsis.

NOTES: If you have *more* information regarding the 
Japanese police procedure used in this fiction, please 
email me!  All that this tale encompasses was discovered 
through a link that my wonderful prereader gave me - and 
though I looked for it online, there wasn't much.  The gun 
control laws were thoroughly explored however, and if you 
have qualms with Michi carrying *two* weapons, please first 
remember that she was trained for the police force in 
America (the FBI Academy - Quantico), and then remember 
that even if you *are* so kind as to remind me that the 
scenario is virtually unthinkable in a quiet country such 
as Japan, I will most certainly ignore that section of your 
message and write to you regarding the other things.  

C/C and FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED! (echonymph@msn.com)

=====

CATHARSIS

-linsan

=====

Some people were uncooperative.

Some people were just plain nuts.

Other people grew to acquire so many eccentricities and 
abnormalities that they became legends.

It so happened on that sun-soaked March afternoon that 
Michi Hirugashi was about to meet one of Japan's most 
notorious detectives.  She'd heard stories about him, of 
course, a man who didn't have all his facilities in perfect 
order.  It was said that his blue eyes glowed chaotic, and 
that he was extremely touchy - ready at will to rip the 
arms off of anyone who dared to violate his ideal of 
propriety.  But he also possessed a phenomenal success rate 
that had at times reached 98%, and was thus disposed only 
to the most difficult and gory of cases.  

Which was probably why he was being put into action in the 
Special Ops department - and probably why he was being 
partnered with her.

And while she would have been thrilled to meet the man in 
person - having worked for the Japanese Government's 
Special Operations department for nearly seven years, and 
hearing about three thousand different variations of how 
insane the man was - she didn't want what she was given.

That being, of course, a partnership.

Michi scowled into the dim light of the offices, seeing her 
boss' shadow form a hefty outline against the blurred glass 
window in his doorway.  She could see him checking his 
watch and hear him saying, "She's usually late, but not 
*this* late.  Women."

She heard him release masculine chuckle and had to steel 
her nerves against the sudden, overwhelming urge to kick 
the man in the office between the legs.  Hard.  Hopefully, 
hard enough to dislodge the chauvinism that seemed to 
reside there.

Taking a breath, she strode towards the office, flung open 
the door.  She took in her boss' shocked and halfway 
embarrassed expression, and flopped into a chair, saying 
loudly, "I had to go birth a baby and get my nails done," 
she did her best to look vapid, "I'm so very sorry, oh big 
important boss-type man."

"Hirugashi - I don't need this type of crap from you."  He 
sighed, running his hands over his tired face.  Michi felt 
a sudden pulse of guilt as she saw his facial expression.  
He was absolutely exhausted, by the looks of it.  There 
were dark circles underneath his eyes, and his entire form 
looked drained, as if someone had let out all the bull-
headed spark that fueled him.  

"What's wrong?" she asked, leaning forward her in seat to 
see his eyes cloud over with frustration.  

"Just this case, Hirugashi - just this case.  A series of 
deaths that have no connection to each either.  All we *do* 
know that is that they involve the yakuza."  He smirked at 
her, "Right up your alley, eh, Hirugashi?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, feeling all of her previous 
concern evaporate in a puff of blackened smoke.  "Kiss my 
ass, I don't need this type of crap from you, either."

He looked at her strangely, "You are aware that I *am* your 
*boss*, right?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" she demanded.  
After a long, strange silence, her commanding officer 
cleared his throat and continued, only eyeing her strangely 
every few seconds:

"The reason you were called into this meeting was so that 
you could meet your new partner - he's very good, and very, 
very dangerous."  He shook his head slowly, "I'm not going 
to lie to you, Hirugashi, he's been known to do some pretty 
lunatic things - but I'm partnering you up with him on this 
case that's riding my ass because you're both the best of 
the best - and essentially the same."

She sneered.  "He's a renegade, sir.  We're entirely 
different."

"Different," her boss laughed, "is not the word that I 
would use."  He calmed himself for a moment before 
continuing, "You may have the fancy degree from medical 
school, and the training from Quantico - and we're proud 
that you did so well and proved yourself so strong - but 
you're too much like him, watch your step."

She snickered, "What's he going to do, rape me?"

Then there was the presence of another human being in the 
room, and a low, pleasant voice, "Only if you tempt me, 
Detective Hirugashi."

=====

She whirled around at the sound of the voice, gray eyes 
growing wide at the sudden appearance of a strange man.  He 
was sturdily built, lithe, well-muscled, with a strong jaw 
and high cheekbone.  His eyes flashed slate-blue, shaded by 
a brush of wild, dark, bangs, the rest of his hair was cut 
rather messily, leaving the whole of it longish and thick - 
teasing her momentarily with the idea of running her 
fingers through it.  His mouth was drawn into a small, 
nearly persnickety, smile about his face.  Like every other 
man in the Special Ops department, he was dressed in a 
conservative suit, his being a dusty blackish color, offset 
beautifully by a shirt that matched his eyes, and a black 
silk tie.

All in all, Michi had to admit that this was a fine male 
specimen standing before her, grinning and holding out his 
hand to shake hers.  

He looked repentant for a moment when presented with her 
stunned facial expression, "Ranma Saotome.  Sorry about 
that, I just couldn't resist."

She gathered up what remained of her dignity and replied, 
shaking his hand firmly, "It's all right, Detective 
Saotome, there are some rather vicious rumors about you, 
and I shouldn't have said that, anyway."

He waved it off, releasing her hand, "Forgiven, besides, we 
have more important things to talk about than whether or 
not I'm going to force you into sexual intercourse."

She smiled.  He was sending out a clear and certain feeler.  

There were two different types of people in the world.  
There were those that would have found this type of verbal 
parrying intensely stimulating and amusing, and would play 
along.  And then there are those who would become violently 
offended and be forced by their 'moral and societal duty' 
to call their legal representation and press charges.

Luckily for him - Michi loved a good joke.

"Right," she said quickly, relieving her boss of the thick 
stack of file folders on his desk, watching her new partner 
pick up the heavy box of evidence and photos.  "Of course," 
she said, "we'll get back to unwilling fornication later, I 
suppose."

He managed to hide the grin that spread wide over his 
features long enough to say, "I expect nothing less."

=====

END PROLOGUE

One Month Later

=====

"Eight dead bodies, and not one warm one," she sighed, 
leaning against the hood of the car, stretching her arms 
out into the morning sunlight, and completely ignoring the 
expression her partner tossed in her direction.  "This is 
the type of bitch wrapped up in a conundrum tied in an 
enigma that ought to be shot on sight."

"Well," he said evenly, "seeing as it's a yakuza related 
crime, I think a shoot to kill would be harmful for your 
breathing patterns."  He breathed in deeply, and tried to 
banish the thoughts that fluttered through his mind.

Michi Hirugashi was a strange reminder of a past that he 
preferred to forget.  She looked remarkably like - well, 
like Akane.  But that was to be understood - his former 
fiancées dark hair and shining eyes, the shadowy charm that 
she had exhibited were rather typical traits of beauty.  
Pretty adjectives that could have been used to describe 
over 90% of the lovely brunettes that the world had borne.  
Though Michi may have resembled Akane - she bore no other 
similar characteristics. 

While Akane had been quick tempered, he found his new 
partner pleasantly good-natured, stubborn, but ultimately 
hard to anger.  The one time he had honestly riled her up 
enough to make her raise her voice had not been pleasant, 
and he wished not to repeat the entire, ugly incident.  
Suffice it to say that she'd throw an inch thick file 
folder at his head with amazing accuracy, and had it not 
been for his lifetime of martial arts training - he would 
have gotten a face full of paper cuts.  Where Akane was 
difficult to read, Michi's moods were as translucent as the 
clouds, she wore her emotions on her sleeve.  When she was 
angry, the world damn well knew about, and when she was 
happy, so too, did the world share her joy.

Michi smirked at Ranma, saying strangely, "You know, 
Saotome, nearly five weeks of working with you, and I've 
yet to hear one thing come out of that mouth of yours that 
isn't strictly related to police business."

He frowned, settling himself next to her on the hood of the 
silver-gray sedan uncomfortably, "That's not true, what 
about the first words I ever said to you?"

She laughed at the memory, breaking their eye contact and 
glancing across the way towards the bustling streets of a 
Tokyo afternoon, watching people with a dim fascination 
that never escaped Ranma's notice.  "I suppose that counts, 
but just barely."  Turning back to him, she said, "But 
still - aside from that first day, that's it."  She cocked 
her head to one side, "I know nothing about you, really.  
Just what's in your file, and what I could gather from your 
multiple commendations and assorted reprimands."  She 
smiled, "You're a mystery, Saotome."

He was quiet for a moment, drowning in the sound of the 
streets, "Well, you've told me nothing about yourself, 
either."

She rolled her eyes.  "Name: Michi Hirugashi; Age: 32; 
Social Status: widowed, twice engaged, now single; Blood 
Type: O negative; Least proud obsession: Love Hina manga; 
Parents: in a dreadful fit over whether or not their 
daughter will ever give them grandchildren - shall I go on?  
I suppose I could elaborate on my favorite places to shop 
and how often I curl my hair, too."

"Hush, Hirugashi," he muttered, amusement glittering in his 
eyes as he smiled at her, "you've made your point.  So I'm 
not entirely forthcoming - I've got my reasons."

She shrugged, "Fair enough."  Crumpling her coffee cup into 
a ball, narrowing her eyes, and shooting carefully with two 
hands, she landed it perfectly into a nearby trashcan.  
Grinning proudly, she clapped her hands together, catching 
his amused gaze as she slipped off the hood and into the 
driver's seat.  "Come on, I've got the autopsy bay for us 
in ten minutes - maybe the latest victim will reveal 
something the other ones haven't."

He rolled his eyes, stuffing his long legs and arms into 
the moderately-sized sedan, grunting softly at the 
discomfort and wishing quietly that Michi would just let 
them take his car.  "You're the only woman in the world who 
would rather hang around a half decomposed body than go out 
for dinner and dancing."

She looked both ways as she pulled out of her precarious 
spot along the side of the road, saying in a distracted 
tone of voice, "Is that an offer, Saotome?"

"No," he said quickly, looking at her in sharp surprise, 
"It most certainly is not."  The sudden shock of it making 
his hands nervous, and he fumbled with the seatbelt for 
half a second before finally hearing the familiar click.

She didn't seem to be offended, and signaling, the car 
seamlessly merged into traffic, "Then stop bugging me about 
it."

=====

To: AkaRyo@tdojo.co.jp
From: rsaotome@police.go.jp
Subject: Surprises

Dear Akane and Ryoga,

Congratulations!  I heard from Kasumi last week that you're 
planning to welcome your third child in a few months!  I 
always knew you guys would have a whole mess of them - but 
at such close intervals?  Gosh, Akane, can't you keep that 
pig off of you at the hospitals?

I'm kidding, honest. 

The point is - since she mentioned it, I thought this would 
be the perfect time to mention my own surprise - I'm back 
in Tokyo!  Yes, after spending nine years in Kyoto 
patrolling shrine-thieves (please, I'm still mentally 
scarred from the abject boredom) and the occasional bust, 
I'm where the heat is.  Don't be surprised if you hear 
plenty of bad things about me in the papers soon.  
Actually, I've been here for awhile, but what with finding 
an apartment and settling in, filling out paperwork and 
getting a new partner (M. Hirugashi, got a set of iron 
balls if I've even dealt with iron balls), writing to you 
just slipped my mind!  Thank God for email, I probably 
would have never actually *written*.

Hmm - well, my address and a couple of important legal 
documents that Akane probably needs to sign (just a few of 
dojo papers - you know, finalization of the sale and things 
like that) are attached.

Once again, I wish you two the greatest happiness.

- RS

PS - Send Kasumi and Nabiki my love

=====

"Need any help?" he asked dryly.

Although watching his 5'5" partner struggle with the 
autopsy saw and the victim's ribcage was massively 
fascinating - if very, very nauseating - he couldn't bear 
to hear her rock back on her heels and curse under her 
breath any more.  

The assistant had begged off of duty - a resident at the 
hospital and highly superstitious about death in general, 
being in the same room with the body was giving the poor 
kid the hives.  Michi had rolled her eyes, waving the child 
off, grunting about the "quality of the garbage that Med 
School was turning out these days."

She turned her eyes to him, the curiously dark mercury 
color masked by a pair of slightly yellowed goggles, and 
smirked, "Finally, you ask.  I was about to pray for 
gaining thirty pounds."  She stepped back, handed him a 
pair of autopsy gloves, pulled them up over the cuffs of 
his suitcoat, and told him exactly what to do.  "I need you 
to saw straight down the sternum, can you do that?"

He rolled his eyes, and with his voice dripping full of 
sarcasm, he held the saw over the partially exposed and 
cut-open stomach, "Oh, you mean this thing?"

"Cute, Saotome, real cute," she said, guiding the saw back 
to the ribs, fingers brushing carelessly along his strong, 
calloused hands, not noticing the way his eyes watched the 
movement.  With an intent expression, she watched him work 
through the bone in moments.  'Dammit,' she thought 
mournfully, 'that would have taken me an hour.  The guy 
most lift some serious weights.'

"There you go, Hirugashi, now, tell me, what have we 
gleaned from this sickening experience?" he said, peeling 
the gloves off of his hands with a 'snap' and tossing them 
away as quickly.  When he turned back around, he realized 
that his partner's face was practically *pressed into* the 
pried-open chest cavity of the three-months-past dead man.  
He whispered a silent word of thanks that she'd been 
wearing a surgical hairnet - had she ended up sitting 
across from him while picking entrails out of her hair, he 
wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his gag reflex from 
overwhelming him.

"Well," she said, voice hollow and echoing as if she was 
speaking from inside the body, "Did you bring down the 
labs?"

He nodded mutely, and handed her the folder that he'd 
placed on the counter.  She pulled her face away, wiping a 
smear of blood off of her goggles with the sleeves of her 
dark blue hospital scrubs and snapping off her gloves.  
With a sigh, she grabbed a coffee cup as she took the 
folder from his fingers, asking quickly, "Hey, are you all 
right?  You look sort of faint."

He shook his head, "In all my years working on murders and 
assault, I never had to sit through an autopsy."  He turned 
a bit paler, "This is just a little bit nauseating."

She shrugged, "You can leave if you want."

"No," he replied hastily, "I'll be fine.  Go on, what do 
the labs say?" 

She raised an eyebrow to him, but said no more on the 
subject.  She bent her head to the still-warm computer 
printouts, frowning deeply. 

"What killed this man has been used for hundreds and 
thousands of years, poison."  She glanced upwards as he 
asked:

"Poison?"  He wandered over to her side, leaning the small 
of his back against the edge of the counter, and casually 
teasing her coffee mug from her fingertips.

She sighed, "Yes.  For example, a potent protein poison is 
cyanide, another is caffeine."  Ranma turned pale, and set 
down her coffee cup again, momentarily content not to sneak 
long swallows of her 1500 yen a pound Café Vienna.  She 
smirked.  "The fact that a good, lethal dose of caffeine, 
about 35 mg, distilled straight from coco beans, would have 
made his heat explode, and his heart's still intact, lead 
me to believe that it *wasn't* caffeine.  So something so 
unassuming and brilliant couldn't be used for his death.  
We're actually lucky in that respect."

Ranma frowned, asking, "What do you mean?"

"Like all protein based poisons, the caffeine would have 
petered out of his blood stream in a week or so, and 
considering this body is nearly three months old - we'd 
have no direction."  She took a breath, and continued, "It 
seems that Soru-san was given a rather rare poison."  She 
walked over to the lab counter, picking up a folder and 
handing it to him.  "Wolfsbane.  It's seasonal - we're 
right in time for a new crop of it to pop out." she bit her 
lip, "The victim would have had to have ingested an 
impressive amount of the poison derived from distillation.  
He would have had a burning sensation, coldness, shaking, 
sweating - all within the first couple of minutes."  She 
furrowed her brow, and lowering her eyes to the paper 
again, she said in a softer tone, "Then there would be 
numbness, vomiting, diarrhea, severe abdominal pain.  Cause 
of death would ultimately be cardiac arrest."  She stared 
at the body for a moment, "He would have had six hours, 
tops."

"I'm confused.  There was no discernable causes of death on 
the previous murder victims either, so I'm going to assume 
that they were poisoned in this manner," Ranma said 
studiously, staring at the lab folder and flipping through 
pages and pages of blood-analysis, noting with a whistle 
that the alcohol content at the time of death was 0.89.  
"So how come the previous tox screens came up blank?"

She grinned, shaking her head, "Because they *were* blank, 
Saotome."  Ranma reached for her coffee mug again, and she 
frowned, saying, "Perhaps those men drank caffeine."  

Her partner scowled at her, and in outright defiance, he 
took a mouthful, swallowing slowly, he commented, "Good 
stuff, Hirugashi."  She sighed, turning to look at the dead 
body.  She shook her head, glancing at Ranma again as she 
said:

"But then again - the distillation process would take lots 
of time, patience, and extensive knowledge of medicinal 
herbs.  The entire process would take days, maybe even 
months; who would do that?"

He bit his lip - memory flashing back in a cloud of black 
rose petals.

=====

To: nerriy@tech.co.jp
From: mhirugashi@police.go.jp
Subject: Kazuaki-crisis!

Nerri -

Do you think it's wrong to lead him on like this?  I mean, 
I have absolutely no intention of actually marrying him, or 
anything serious of the kind - so is what I'm doing bad?

And in response to your last email:

> Tomo is shit - I could have had more fun with a twig.

That's nice to know.  At least he's improved; last I heard 
from you, he played second string to a lima bean.  Besides 
if he's so bad in bed, why don't you find a new boyfriend?  
You've been dating this loser since last year!

> Mom found three pairs of incriminating boxers in 
apartment - told her they were your fault - bought the 
whole deal.  Sorry, thinks you're a total whore now.

Dammit, Nerri!  How am I ever going to show my face at your 
house again?  That's the fourth time you've blamed Tomo's 
sloppiness on me!  Get it together!  Next time, I'm telling 
your mother the truth!

> Dad's in hospital, something about unnatural bowl 
obstruction, don't particularly want to know the facts, but 
would probably make you laugh your ass off.  Then again, 
you work with dead people.

I'm not commenting on your father's obstruction.  And I'm 
not commenting on that shot at my career either.  You just 
wait, one day, you'll die, and I'll do your autopsy, no one 
will have uglier post-mortem stitches than you.

> Anyhow - gotta go, emailing from work - and my boss is 
coming back soon.  So, any new meat to share?

Actually, as a matter of fact, yes.  

New partner, Saotome - hot, but not.  Handsome in a mature, 
dark-haired sort of way, much too polite for you.  People 
say he's a lunatic, haven't seen any signs so far, I'd tell 
you if he starts frothing at the mouth - that *is* your 
type of thing - but I don't want you corrupting the people 
I work with.

Later - Michi

=====

"Right, I'll meet you tomorrow morning, bright and early at 
the soba stand near the station, all right?  We've got 
stakeout duty for the next twelve hours - so pee if you've 
got to pee, and don't drink anything before getting in the 
car!" came the warning voice.

Ranma had to chuckle at the tone, even over a cell phone, 
her every emotion was translated through her voice.  
"Hirugashi - lay off the booze yourself tonight, I don't 
want to bust our watch so you can run to the McDonalds and 
let you into the ladies room."  

He heard her snorting over the line, "I'll pee into a damn 
cup before I'll ruin the stakeout, Saotome," she paused, 
"Oh, yeah, bring food - I'll bring the entertainment."

He raised his eyebrow, turning the key to his apartment in 
the lock, and punching the knob twice as he twisted it to 
get the door open.  Once inside the room, he slammed it 
behind him, tossing his long trench coat onto a chair, and 
tossing his suit jacket in the 'dry-clean' basket near the 
bathroom.  "Entertainment?  I must remind you, Hirugashi, 
that I'm only 33 years old - nothing that would render me 
mentally incapable of doing my job."

He could hear her rolling her eyes over the line, "Why are 
all men gutterminded?  I'm bringing music - if you want 
girly magazines, you can get them yourself."

He kicked off his shoes, pushing them with a foot into his 
hall closet and closing it softly, glancing around his 
nearly spotless apartment with a vague sense of 
dissatisfaction.  "What kind of music?"

"Jazz, Ray Charles, Louis Armstrong, the classics," she 
said, "All right, I've got a date tonight, see you 
tomorrow, bright and early, seven o'clock."

He smirked, "Should I expect you to be wearing the same 
suit tomorrow as you were today?"

She laughed, and just before hanging up, said, "I resent 
the implication - but be prepared for the possibility."

He pressed the 'end' button on the phone, a grin still on 
his tired face.  With a long sigh, he wandered into the 
bedroom of the small, but comfortable, apartment.  
Unbuttoning his shirt with one hand and untucking it with 
the other, he hummed softly to himself, eyes far away as he 
went through the usual motions.  Changing from his 
stringently regulated work-clothes into a gray t-shirt and 
a pair of old jeans.  And heading towards his kitchen to 
fix dinner, he caught a momentary image of himself in the 
mirror.

He was older, if not old.  And he looked wiser, if not 
wise.  His eyes didn't sparkle as arrogantly as they once 
had, and he had yet to decide whether that was a positive 
or negative thing.  His hair was his deepest regret, but 
the Japanese Government required all their law enforcement 
officers to wear short hair - the way his was cut was 
already pushing the limit - and he did that enough already 
without adding fuel to the 'ELIMINATE SAOTOME!' fire.

Setting the kettle to boil, he stared out of the kitchen 
window.  The sunset was starting, and faded tones of 
oranges and reds made the clouds swell with their colors 
and tones - everything was softened in their light.

And then there was a sudden zapping sound of a fuse 
shorting out, loud, audible curses coming from the next 
apartment over, and darkness claimed the apartment - all 
the lights winking out and his stove turning off.

Growling, Ranma pounded his fist against the wall, yelling, 
"Damn it, Toshi - this is getting ridiculous!"  To which a 
frightened, teenaged voice replied:

"I'm sorry, Saotome-san!  Really!  I'll get the manager to 
fix it up right now!  Honest!"

He sighed, "What was it this time, new T10 line or what?"

The muffled voice was now filled with excitement, "Man, 
it's beautiful, a gorgeous new digital panel, an absolute 
black-market electronics sampler - didn't think it would 
short out the entire floor."  There was an uncomfortable 
pause, "Again."

Ranma rolled his eyes, "You know I'm supposed to arrest 
people who do stuff like that, right?"

"Um - right."  There was a pause, "Oh, man, my parents are 
going to be so pissed off."  Ranma laughed softly, walked 
across the kitchen, into his living room, opened the hall 
closet door, took out a leather jacket, and left, locking 
his front door behind him.  Oblivious to the panicking 
voice still chattering to the empty room.

"I really didn't think that you could get in trouble for 
something like this!  I mean, had I but known, I would have 
*reported* these - these *hackers* for their flagrant 
disregard for the law!  I mean, I'm not a bad kid, Saotome-
san - you have to know that!  Oh, God, I'm not going to get 
into college, much *less* TouDai!  Oh, God, I'm going to be 
a bum!  Oh, God, oh, God -  Saotome-san?  Are you there?  
Saotome-san?"

=====

To: AkaRyo@tdojo.co.jp 
From: rsaotome@police.go.jp
Suject: Re:[Re:Surprises]

Ryoga -

I was kidding, you damn lunatic - besides, one well-worded 
phone call and your ass would be grass and a judge would be 
the mower - you don't wanna run that risk.

Get your mind out of your pants, iron balls = one tough 
chick.  *Michi* Hirugashi - she's a woman!  Keep your 
homosexual fantasies to yourself, please!  

Good Lord - I got the pictures you sent, the dojo's 
overflowing with kids!  Two from Kasumi and Tofu, two and a 
third from you and Akane, and with Nabiki visiting, how do 
you guys have any space?  At least there's no significant 
property damage - Tako can't break anything other than wood 
at this point, right?

And if he can - damnit Ryoga!  The kid is four!

Tell Kasumi I got the thing through - she ought to have no 
trouble with the suppliers from now on, and I got the 
collectors to lay off of the clinic for a while - but tell 
them to get on it - I can't hold them off forever if the 
place never turns a profit.

How're the students?  Any of them ask about me?

-RS

=====

"Table for one, Sir?" asked a perky, redheaded waitress.  
He whipped around at the female tone, and with an 
embarrassed smile, said:

"Uh, yeah, one will be fine."

She led him through the small, cozy diner, seating him in 
what obviously was her section of the floor, a bewitching 
smile on her face.  "So," she said quickly, "are you always 
at a table for one, or is there a Missus who will be 
accompanying you the next time out?"

He frowned in his mind.  Romantic relationships were 
something that he had sworn off nearly a decade ago, fresh 
out of college, bitter and angry at the entire world.  Of 
course - he had been notoriously bad at keeping that oath, 
and had spent about six years philandering around, caught a 
case of the clap, and after being laughed at by his doctor, 
decided that maybe celibacy wasn't so terrible after all.

But he needed an excuse - the woman looked like one of the 
persistent ones.  "Well," he started, leaning forward and 
thinking hard, "it's only for tonight, my boyfriend and I 
just had a tiff," he waved his hand as effeminately as his 
lifetime of manliness allowed, "you know, the usual lovers 
spat - he'll come back," he said finally, a satisfied smile 
spreading across his lips as the girl's facial expression 
fell into a pout.

A lot more businesslike, the waitress picked up her tablet 
again, saying, "I see, what'll you be having this evening 
sir?"

He grinned, and told her his order.

=====

To: nerriy@tech.co.jp
From: mhirugashi@police.go.jp
Subject: Re: You're a whore

Nerri -

I'm not a whore!  And I'm not toying with him!  He gets his 
share of action - it's not like I'm holding out or 
anything, I just don't want to marry him!  Of *course* he 
hasn't asked me yet you idiot!

> What?  My mother wouldn't believe you!

Good point, going to have to give her written and 
photograph evidence.

> Hah!  Ugly post-mortem stitches don't frighten me!  I'm 
going to get cremated!

Right - and I'm going to tell your mother and say that you 
changed your mind.  "She wants an open casket ceremony, so 
Tomo-kun could look upon her *virginal* body one last time 
before she dies - oh, yes, and she wants to wear that nice, 
gauzy dress.  The scars and stitches?  Oh, those were 
unavoidable, you know she was my best friend, I tried my 
best."

> What?  What's his first name?  For the great ice-princess 
Michi to admit attractiveness, he has to be gorgeous!

Fat chance.  Not telling you anything.  He's a colleague; 
I'm not letting you sink your claws into him.

Shit - have to meet Kazuaki in twenty minutes, pray for me.

Later - Michi

=====
 
"You're beautiful, Michi," sighed the man in front of her.

She repressed a yawn as she said, "Thank you."

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy Kazuaki's company, he was 
young, he was wealthy, and he treated her like some sort of 
treasure, always cautiously chivalrous around her, watching 
his every move.  His charm had won her over the first time 
she'd seen in the street, and her wit had intoxicated him.

Calling it a date was a tad bit of an understatement.  

Technically - she was probably supposed to marry him.  

She twisted the platinum engagement ring on her finger; 
gently tracing the princess cut diamond with idle brevity.  
She didn't wear it outside of her meetings with Kazuaki, 
and no one else knew of their engagement, either.  Not her 
coworkers, not her friends, not her family - and she 
preferred to keep it that way.  

She rested her cheek on her hand and watched her fiancé as 
he complained to the waitress about the temperature of his 
wine, citing the slightly over-chilled liquid as an 
injustice to sommeliers everywhere.  She barely repressed 
the urge to remind him that his knowledge of fine wine 
extended as far as the difference between a Chardonnay and 
hard cider, but bit her tongue.  Sure, he was attractive, 
with dark blond hair and laughing green eyes - but he was 
just so *wrong*.  He always drank in moderation, dressed 
tastefully, took vacations when they were allotted, and 
took his work as a tax lawyer very seriously, pushing his 
reading glasses further up his nose each time when they lay 
in bed after making love, explaining some other facet of 
the Japanese tax code.

She guessed that she loved him, or at the very least, was 
fond of him - and for someone like her, wasn't that good 
enough?  She needed to learn how to be content, not to seek 
meaningless passion for the rest of her existence.

"Michi," he said, concern in his voice, "are you all right?  
You've been - well, despondent all night."

She scowled darkly, and then was instantly regretful of the 
action as she saw the wounded expression on his face.  She 
sighed, saying, "I'm just tired, Kazuaki, I've got a 
stakeout tomorrow starting at seven, and well," she feigned 
a yawn, "This is really draining me."

And just as she had hoped, his gentlemanly instincts took 
over.  "Why didn't you say something earlier?" he asked, "I 
absolutely *command* you to go home and get to bed, you 
understand, Michi?"  She nodded, happy for once to go along 
with his 'demands'.

"If you say so, Kazuaki," she murmured, a demure expression 
on her face, "I know that *you* know best in this 
relationship."

=====

To: ntendo@pricewaterhouse.co.jp
From: rsaotome@police.go.jp
Subject: Info

Nabiki - 

Hey, back in Tokyo, sorry for the late alert.  Need some 
info - meet me at Kin Sushi this wknd - Sat @ 3:30ish, if 
you can't make it, call: 555-1128(cell) or 555-3497(home).  
Background scan on Kodachi - what's she been up to 
recently, been growing anything funnier than usual?  
Something to do with police-business, tell you more later.

How's Jacob?  Did the gaijin turn out to be better stock 
than Japanese guys?

-RS

=====

"It's fucking cold out here, Saotome," she muttered 
hatefully, watching her partner saunter up to the yatai 
slowly, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his 
pants.  "How can you be nonchalant?"

She was dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, a Quantico t-
shirt, and a heavy coat over top of it all, good, thick 
socks and sneakers keeping her feet marginally thawed.  She 
still felt like a popsicle.  He was wearing a t-shirt with 
the letters 'TDS' emblazoned on it and a pair of ratty 
pants.  He looked as if he was walking through the tropics.

He shrugged, saying, "Conditioning, the weather stopped 
bugging me a long while back."

She growled, but jerked her head towards the car.  "Come 
on, the warehouse we're watching opens for business in 
about an hour and a half - lets not fuck this up."

=====