From her vantage point on a rooftop, the huntress surveyed the streets, looking for her chosen prey. People below looked like insects, going about their meaningless insect business. They didn’t matter. Only he mattered, only the man who had awakened her with his lips, who had taught her the sensation of a strong male body holding hers. He was her prince, her destined beloved, regardless of the pack of harpies that constantly pursued him, and her heart would lead her to his side though the city, and even the world, stood between.
There! On the grass by the river… he was unmistakable – it wasn’t only his distinctive clothing and hairstyle that set him apart from other men, it was the way he carried himself, the way he moved. No other man had such confidence! A wave of desire and longing swept through her, so strong she nearly fell from her perch. She fought it down with iron discipline hardened during years of training.
He wasn’t alone, of course, he almost never was. That violent little harridan Akane Tendou was with him. It was proof of Ranma-sama’s greatness, after all, that even a tomboy like Akane, without a feminine bone in her body, was drawn to him. It was only proper that a man should have his little diversions. But it was the place of a commoner like Akane to move aside for her superiors, and now was Kodachi’s time.
Manic laughter and scented petals showered down on Furinkan-cho. The Black Rose was on the hunt.
She snapped her ribbon at the interloper, meaning to jerk her into the water. That would settle the little witch once and for all; everyone knew the Tendou girl had all the swimming ability of a hammer.
Instead, Kodachi was the one who stumbled forward. Only her superb reflexes kept her from landing face down on the soft grass. Her ribbon tore out of her hand.
“Whaddya do that for, Kodachi!?”
She looked up. Her ribbon was wrapped around Ranma-sama’s fist, its length dangling from his hand to puddle on the grass at his feet. She recoiled from the fury in his storm-blue eyes.
“I’m gettin’ real tired of this,” he growled and tossed the ribbon into the river.
She put her hand to her mouth. “Ranma-sama…” Tears trembled in her eyes – only partly feigned; his implacable expression truly frightened her. Ranma-sama had never blocked her attack so decisively before.
“It ain’t gonna work, Kodachi.”
She blinked. Of course it would work, it always worked. Ranma-sama was a man, the manliest of men, and the more manly a man was the more easily he turned to soft clay when a woman cried. She’d proved it over and over again.
“I ain’t gonna let ya do whatever ya want just ‘cuz ya turn on the tears. I’m sick of you jumpin’ outta nowhere, grabbin’ me, givin’ me roses with paralysis powder in ‘em, and I’m most specially sick of you tryin’ to hurt Akane! I’m only gonna say this once. I don’t love ya, I don’t even like ya. So just keep away from me! And don’t try goin’ after Akane – or Ucchan or anybody else – when I ain’t here, ‘cuz ya ain’t gonna like what happens.” He cracked his knuckles. “C’mon, Akane. It stinks down here.”
Kodachi dropped to her knees, too shocked to counterattack or to even cry. “Ranma… sama…” Her lips shaped the word, without sound. She couldn’t hide any more, couldn’t delude herself into believing that if she could free him from the evil influence of his other girlfriends, she could somehow make him love her. He hated her. That was what had been in his eyes, stone-hard hatred.
It was all false, Ranma’s love for her… anybody’s love for her. Her brother didn’t love her. Her father ignored her, in spite of all her efforts to be the ideal daughter and make him proud. A lifetime of striving, of trying to be perfect. A lifetime of being the top student, the gourmet cook, the undefeated gymnast – what was it all worth, if no one loved her?
She didn’t know how long she knelt beside the river, frozen with shock and misery. At some point she found herself wandering the streets aimlessly. It was dark. She didn’t care. She didn’t want to go home, to face a room papered with pictures of Ranma-sama. It didn’t matter, anyway, if she didn’t go home. There was no one at home who would care.
The street was deserted. She didn’t know what time it was, but thought that it must be very late because of the lack of traffic. The streetlights on the bridge were dark; shadows wrapped around her, kind and concealing. A few reflections twinkled in the water below her, lights from signs on buildings along the bank. They looked like stars, or at least what stars were supposed to look like; none were visible in the light-hazed sky. It would be nice to be a star; she supposed stars never knew what it was like to hurt because nobody loved them. Everybody loved stars. It would be wonderful to soar among them. She leaped lightly to the top of the railing.
“Hey, don’t you know it’s dangerous for a pretty lady to be out at night alone?”
There were hands on her, gripping her around the waist and lifting her off the railing to the safety of the sidewalk. A man, some male dared to lay hands on her!
“Let me go!” She twisted, but he held her in a steel grasp without seeming to expend any effort at all. He was a big man, taller than Tachi, broader than Ranma-sama; he made her feel tiny and fragile. And he smelled dangerous too, of whisky and leather and stale cigarettes and something like fireworks, a heady masculine aroma that almost made her dizzy. She stared up at him… soft black wavy hair that seemed made to knot fingers through, framing a face at once rugged and sensitive, breathtakingly handsome, with penetrating steel-gray eyes that seemed to look right through her…
Right through her clothes! His arm went around her, supporting and controlling at once, and he bent over her. “It must be fate that has brought us together. Let’s go to a hotel right away!
She broke free. She still had the roses she had planned to use on Ranma-sama, and pulled them out. “Kodachi the Black Rose is not to be pawed by anyone like you!”
This was a rare occurrence. From time to time she had encountered creatures – hardly to be called men, more like rutting animals – who assumed that because she was out alone at night she was… available. Between her martial skills and her paralysis-laced roses, they had never been a problem for her. Until now.
A single huge hand, as big as both of hers together, seized her wrists. His thumb pressed, and her hand opened. He took the bouquet from her.
“Those are dangerous toys for such a pretty girl,” he murmured, and with his free hand dropped all but one of the roses into the river. He tapped the stem against the railing. Glittering powder dropped to the sidewalk. Then he held it beneath her nose. She held her breath, glaring furiously at him. He drew it along the curve of her cheek, grinning infuriatingly at her. “Kodachi the Black Rose. It suits you. Don’t worry, I tapped off most of the paralysis drug. How old are you, Kodachi-the-Black-Rose?” There was warm amusement in his voice, and something else in his eyes… like he was undressing her… would he look at me like that if he saw me for real? He must have had dozens of women… next to him Ranma-sama looks like a clumsy boy…
“Eighteen,” she whispered, unable to stop herself. That whisky-and-fireworks scent seemed to coil into her brain. She wondered if her captor was going to kiss her.
“Eighteen,” he repeated. Then his lips brushed her forehead, a big brother’s kiss… except that Tachi has never so much as touched me… and he let her go. “You’d better run home, Kodachi-the-Black-Rose. It would be a shame if you got hurt before our date.”
“D… date?”
“The one you have with me in about three years.” He broke off the rose’s stem and slipped the flower into the buttonhole of his coat. It looked right there, black as his hair, dangerous as his eyes. “Take care of yourself, Kodachi-the-Black-Rose.” He turned and walked away, leaving her staring after him, as paralyzed with shock as if she had inhaled the powder from her own roses.
The white sportcoat receded, a disembodied, ghostly thing. Kodachi gazed after it until the last faint glimmer vanished into the shadows. Had it happened? Had it been real? Her roses were gone. Her forehead still tingled where he had kissed her; she could still feel the warmth of his hands on her waist, still feel their steel grip on her wrists.
He’s… he’s as far above Ranma as Ranma is above Tachi, she thought to herself, not even noticing that she had dropped the sama from Ranma’s name. How would it feel if he kissed me – not like he did, but the way a man kisses a woman?
Could a man like that… desire me?
It was something to wonder about. Like a black moth, Kodachi Kunou flitted through the shadows, back to Furinkan-cho and home.
NOTES, EXPLANATIONS ETC.
Okay, I know it doesn’t really work, but the idea just wouldn’t go away. Setting aside all the crazy-Kodachi fanfic, she seems like a desperately lonely girl. If she had more family-type love in her life, maybe she wouldn’t think she has to manufacture love out of bits of nothing.
One of the Japanese anime magazines, I forget whether it was Animage or Newtype, did a piece on “Cool Guys” a few years ago. There were four types: one I couldn’t make out, which included Kurama; “Manly Men,” of whom I only recognized Harlock; “Lone Wolves,” which featured Lupin III’s Jigen; and “Older Brothers,” among whom were Lupin himself and, not surprisingly when you really think about it, one of my favorite anime heroes, Ryo Saeba. In spite of Ryo’s pervish ways, girls who get involved with him always seem to end up as stronger people. So why not the Black Rose?