Ikioi - Part Four

"So, being such good friends, it was only natural that Ikioi’s father and I to decide to betroth our children." Ryozen Hibiki’s low mellow voice drifted through the kitchen as he smiled and chopped at the fresh cucumber that Ikioi had brought back from a hasty trip to the market. Still dressed in the casual suit he normally wore when traveling on business, the handsome older man looked slightly out of place in the cozy kitchen, but he had insisted on helping Ikioi prepare dinner, and Ryoga had agreed to take care of the clean-up afterwards.

The sound of the knife blade against the wooden cutting board was muted but reassuring, and Ryoga liked it. Watching Ikioi move around the kitchen, clad in apron and demonstrating her capable skills especially for her iinazuke and father-in-law, made the wandering martial artist feel as if he actually had a normal life. At least for the moment. It felt good. So good.

With a hesitant smile of his own, Ryoga leaned against the center island of the kitchen and snuck one of the cucumber slices away from his father. The elder Hibiki didn’t notice but Ikioi did, as she turned to gather the bowl of onions which had also been chopped. She smirked at him in a playful and admonishing manner that made him feel warm inside.

"Why didn’t you ever tell me about this, Otosan?" Ryoga asked quietly as he munched on his cucumber.

"Well," Ryozen sighed, glancing at the girl. "It wasn’t long after Ikioi was born that her parents were killed in a car accident."

"Oh," Ryoga frowned sympathetically, shifting his gaze to the girl. "I’m sorry."

She inclined her head slightly, accepting his condolences.

"I thought it would be only right to take Ikioi in and raise her with you, Ryoga, and your mother agreed with me, but by the time I received word of their deaths, Ikioi had already been taken by other relatives and I couldn’t locate her." He paused as he swept the finished cucumbers into a bowl. "And we did look for you, Ikioi. I’m sorry. But since we had no idea where you were, we thought it best not to tell Ryoga, in case you were never found."

Ikioi nodded, stopping in the center of the kitchen with a spoon held poised in her hand. "I was raised by my aunt in Nagoya, and only recently was told that a marriage had been arranged for me. I’ll admit that I was rather uneasy about it at first, but now that I’ve actually met Ryoga . . . " she smiled brilliantly at the young man. "I can’t imagine being with anyone else."

Ryoga stared at her for a long moment, while she turned her attention back to the food she was making. Even as he was mentally thanking whatever fates there were that Ikioi had come into his life, he could not help but feel uncomfortable, now that he had the opportunity to take a step back and think about what was happening. They had only just met, and already she was saying things like that? And what was it she had said right before kissing him? Something about being the only thing he would ever need? This seemed to be moving awfully fast, and there was something about the entire situation that didn’t feel altogether comfortable.

"Hai, Ryoga-kun is a good kid," Ryozen beamed at his son warmly. "He’s a martial artist, did you know that, Ikioi-chan? And a pretty good one from what I understand, though it’s certainly been awhile since I’ve heard about you being in any competitions, Ryo. Don’t you do that sort of thing any more?"

"Not exactly, Otosan," Ryoga sighed heavily, looking down and tracing the formica pattern of the counter top with the tip of his finger. He loved seeing his father, seeing any member of his family for that matter, but it always seemed as if the elder Hibiki was convinced that his son was still about ten years old. Ryoga hadn’t actually entered any serious competitions since he’d met Ranma, and even before that he’d participated only sporadically, as it was difficult for him to get to the events on time. But Ryoga had long since given up trying to explain his life to his father.

Ikioi turned at the low sound of Ryoga’s voice, eyes narrowing when she saw his head low and expression distantly sad. She frowned pertly for a moment, picked up the bowl with the batter she was stirring and stepped over toward the two Hibiki men. "I know that Ryoga-san is a martial artist," she said gently, her voice purring lovingly over her intended’s name and causing him to look up. "And he’s so wonderfully strong."

Ryoga blushed. His father noted the exchange and fought down a smile. Looking toward Ikioi, he commented, "I’m certain that your father would be pleased to see how well you and Ryoga are taking to each other, Ikioi-chan. Now, of course, you’ll stay here until you’re both a little older, there’s an extra bedroom upstairs which you can have, and you’re welcome to fix it up any way that you like. And we’ll get you registered in school, I’m sure you’ll be able to pass the entrance test with no problem."

"St - stay here?" Ryoga’s eyes widened.

"Well, of course, son."

Ikioi beamed, shifting her brilliant gaze to Ryoga. "Will I be attending school with you, Ryoga-san?" she asked eagerly.

"Uhm . . . " Ryoga frowned hard, and looked away. Doubt and frustration built up within him again and he had to resist the urge to break something. This -was- moving fast, a little too fast for him to have the time to properly deal with it and process it. And school? He hadn’t attended school since junior high, and a recent attempt to go back had failed miserably. At the time, he’d tried to blame it on Ranma, claiming that he simply couldn’t concentrate on trying to pass the entrance test when he hadn’t yet beat his rival, but he knew that was just a flimsy excuse. Ryoga had failed because he’d fallen so far behind that the things Akane tried to teach him made absolutely no sense. But . . . how could he tell Ikioi? She would think he was an idiot . . .

Ikioi saw the sad expression on his face, as well as the rather stern frown that Ryozen was now directing at his son. She blinked, then asked, "Gomen nasai, did I say something wrong?"

"No, Ikioi-chan," Ryozen shook his head. If there was a sore point between father and son, this was it, and Ryozen seemed to bring it up every time he saw Ryoga. "It’s simply that Ryoga dropped out of school quite some time ago and doesn’t seem very inclined to go back." The elder Hibiki sighed in the long-suffering manner that most fathers had, setting down his knife and grabbing a towel to wipe his hands on. He brightened as a new thought came to him. "Perhaps you could help him with that, Ikioi?"

"If that’s what Ryoga-san wants," she replied politely, directing the comment towards her iinazuke.

Ryoga hardly heard her. His mind had rewound back to the fact that she was moving into the Hibiki household, that this was suddenly becoming a permanent thing, and an icy fear gripped his heart.

She didn’t know yet! She didn’t know about P-Chan . . . about his shameful curse . . . and once she found out about that . . . it would be the end. Misery and despair built up within him, along with the old familiar hurt that visited him every time he was reminded of his curse. He knew damn well that there was no way any normal girl could love him once his secret was revealed . . . not even one seemingly as understanding as Ikioi seemed to be. And he would never hold her to their fathers’ promise if she wanted to cast him aside, despite how much he was afraid he already loved . . .

(( She’s the only girl who has ever liked me, and because of that . . . because of that I’m falling for her. She’s so beautiful and sweet, and when she kissed me . . . I’m not sure exactly what happened, but I would have gladly given her my life at that moment. But . . . but this is moving too fast. Something doesn’t feel right . . . and she doesn’t know about P-Chan . . . ))

"Ryo?" his father prompted, looking mildly concerned. "Son, you’re being awfully quiet. I know that having an iinazuke is a new idea for you, and it was sprung on you rather abruptly. Are you all right with this?"

Ryoga looked up, seeking Ikioi’s remarkable eyes. "We have to talk," he said quietly and seriously.

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Ryozen was more than happy to stay in the kitchen and keep watch over Ikioi’s dinner while she and Ryoga went upstairs for a little privacy. The petite young woman guided her iinazuke up the stairs and was able to find the bath at his request with little problem. She seemed a little surprised when Ryoga closed and locked the door behind them, and sat demurely on the edge of the sunken tub, gazing at him speculatively.

"I can understand wanting to talk about this, Ryoga-kun," she told him. "But is there a reason why you wanted to talk in the bath?"

"Hai," he nodded, finding a pair of small buckets and sitting beside her as he set them in the tub. He was quiet as he filled the first with hot water, then paused with his hand on the cold water faucet handle before turning it. He sighed hard and turned to face her.

"Ikioi-san . . . " he began, voiced laced with sadness and anticipation over misery possibly to come. "This . . . this isn’t easy . . . I - I don’t know how to tell you . . . "

"Ryoga," she smiled warmly, reaching out to rest her hand on his leg and squeezing gently. Just that simple touch caused him to blush and shift his eyes away shyly. "Relax," she continued reassuringly. "You can tell me anything."

She was so sweet! It was going to hurt so very badly when she rejected him. But . . . but . . . if they were to be engaged, then he couldn’t lie to her or try to hide the truth. Keeping his secret from Akane had been a big mistake right from the start, and had only gotten worse as time wore on. He was determined not to do that again, even though he was certain his honesty was about to cost him this wonderful beautiful girl. Steeling himself for what he knew was coming, Ryoga slowly filled the second bucket with cold water and set both on the floor of the bath. He slid down to sit cross-legged beside them.

"What’s this about?" Ikioi asked, tipping her head slightly and looking faintly perplexed.

"I’m sorry . . . " Ryoga whispered, lifting the bucket of cold water. There really was no way to prepare her for this, so he didn’t bother with any explanations. It was best to just do it and let come what may. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he emptied the liquid contents over his head, heart breaking as the chill from the water sank into him.

Ikioi’s mouth fell open in surprise as she watched Ryoga’s clothing fall into a wet formless pile on the floor. The empty bucket clattered away across the tiled floor of the bath and large sad inhuman eyes gazed up at her from within a fold of Ryoga’s shirt. She stared for a long moment, not moving, at the small black piglet which now sat before her, wearing Ryoga’s yellow and black bandanna around its neck.

P-Chan made a low unhappy noise and hung his little head in shame.

"Oh . . . " Ikioi slowly slipped to the floor to kneel beside him, reaching out hesitantly to touch the top of his head. "Oh Ryoga . . . I didn’t know . . . I didn’t feel this . . . my poor Ryoga . . . "

Much to the piglet’s vast surprise, the petite girl scooped him up into the sheltering fold of her arms and held him close to herself, hugging and pressing her cheek against the top of his head. He squirmed a bit at first, not really willing to accept the embrace, and making small miserable sounds. But she kept a firm hold on him until he realized that her caring was genuine and stilled in her arms. It felt so good to be there . . . so good to be close to her . . .

Then it occurred to him . . . she -wasn’t- rejecting him! She was holding him, hugging him, comforting him with gentle words . . . it couldn’t be real, it had to be a dream . . . and if it was . . . then he certainly did not want to wake up. Ever.

"No wonder you’ve been so terribly lonely," Ikioi whispered lovingly. "Had I known, I would have come sooner. Such a terrible burden for you to carry, my sweet beautiful brave Ryoga." She briefly kissed the space between his eyes, and once again he experienced that strange moving roaring sound in his ears, but this time it was brief and went away as soon as her lips left him. However, he suddenly felt very tired. Squirming tighter into her arms, P-Chan closed his eyes and simply relished the feeling of being held.

After a long drawn out moment of embracing him, letting him feel the love she felt for him, Ikioi set him carefully back down beside his pile of clothes and retrieved the bucket of hot water. "And this changes you back?" she asked, sounding as if she already knew the answer.

Eyes still heavy and half-closed, P-Chan nodded. She poured the water onto him and watched speculatively as he changed back.

Ryoga groaned quietly, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. Feeling dizzy, he leaned back on his left elbow, turning his body away from her, and putting his right hand to his forehead to press his temples. Something didn’t feel quite right, it was as if he were moving through thick liquid and his mind was stuffed with cotton. A mild nausea was rolling uncomfortably through his stomach and all of his joints felt strangely weak.

"Are you okay?" Ikioi asked, retrieving a towel to lay over his mid-section. Nodding gratefully, he positioned it properly, a rosy blush spreading over most of his body as he did so. He sat up slowly, perplexed. It wasn’t often that he felt ill. By virtue of their wandering natures, those of the Hibiki clan were naturally hardy and resistant to germs and viruses, so Ryoga was rarely sick. But he sort of felt that way now, though it seemed to be fading quickly.

"Hai . . . I just feel a little dizzy. Which is strange, because changing doesn’t usually affect me like that." Reminded of his curse once again, Ryoga chanced a glance at her, still worried about rejection even after she had held and comforted him. She was kneeling beside him, with a gentle caring smile on her small perfect face, hands clasped in her lap.

He looked away again quickly. "Now you know," he said quietly, not quite ready to believe that she would still want him. (( She was just being nice . . . )) he decided, and gave her the opportunity to reject him, even though it hurt to do so. "So, I’ll understand if you don’t want - - "

"Ryoga," she interrupted pointedly. "You’ve allowed yourself to believe what they wanted you believe, that you are worthless and that no one could possibly want you. But it simply is not true and your curse changes nothing. I still love you."

"You . . . " Ryoga’s eyes widened and he stared at her, not really willing to believe and completely forgetting the other words she’d uttered. Had she just said . . . ? Could it really be true . . . ? This beautiful girl knew his darkest secret, and yet she . . . she . . . (( Loves me?! Loves . . . she said she -loves- me . . . . ))

Joy filled his heart, even as something began to nag quietly in the back of his head. Blinking, he looked away, his thoughts clearing as soon as he did. (( Wait a minute . . . what did she say while she was holding me? Something about how she would have come sooner if she’d known? What did that mean – ))

Ikioi leaned forward, reaching out with a slender elegant hand to touch the side of his face, erasing the thoughts out of his head almost as soon as they manifested. "My poor Ryoga," she breathed gently, letting her eyes take hold of his once again. He was easily lost, almost paralyzed, capable only of staring back at her with shy amazement reflexed plainly in his expression.

"Of course I love you," she continued, moving closer without him really noticing. "I love you with every fiber of my being, with every thing that I am." She drew in, lifting her other hand to rest on the other side of his face, sharing her breath with him, gazing spellbindingly into his eyes.

His mind felt foggy, far away. Trapped as he was, Ryoga was only distantly aware of the fact that somehow she had slipped her own body on top of his, that the warm soft folds of her kimono were now gently whispering over his exposed skin. Normally contact so intimate would have agitated him a great deal, but for some reason it didn’t concern him now. Nothing did . . . nothing except for the wonderful icy warm aquamarine color of her eyes . . . her eyes . . .

"I want you to be happy, my Heart, my Soul, my Everything," Ikioi seemed to whisper, though once again the sound of her voice came from within him rather than from her. "Making you happy is my existence, and I will give you anything . . . everything . . . that you want. I swear it." She leaned in close and brushed her lips against his, sending soft static traces of energy through his numbed body. "I wish only one thing in return, my beautiful Ryoga."

Ryoga opened his eyes slowly . . . when had he closed them? He stared at her, at her absolute perfection, and felt the love she was giving him. It filtered through her aura, moving towards him in an almost sentient manner, flickering into his own body, pulling him into a firm connection that he had no desire to break. There was something else in her aura as well . . . something that didn’t feel right . . . something that spoke of ageless death, obsessive desire and need . . . need for life . . . need for strength . . . need for . . . him.

It was wrong . . . it felt wrong . . . but Ryoga didn’t care. She loved him. She loved him. And that was all that mattered. As long as she loved him, she could have anything she wanted from him. As long as she stayed with him, accepted him, touched him . . . she could have everything.

Ryoga nodded, granting his willing acceptance. He would have spoken, but didn’t seem to have the power to, so instead he simply shut his eyes again. ((Take anything you want, Ikioi . . . )) his mind whispered.

She pressed in for the kiss, capturing his mouth with hers, and driving deep into him with an intensity that a girl her size shouldn’t have possessed. Ryoga felt as through he’d been shot, as if a bullet had just slammed through his head, and he fell backwards, lowering to the tiled floor of the bath, a soft sound of pain coming from his throat. Far far away, his arms wrapped around her slender waist, and he held on tightly as she kissed him, as the roaring sound wailed in his ears and everything in his body jangled around in an attempt to break loose and go to her. Heat rose from his body, seeping into hers, and he felt the strength he had worked so many years to cultivate filter from his muscles, sparkle through his body and up into the kiss. It hurt, as each shimmer of raw energy was harvested from him, but it was a wonderful sort of pain. The pain of giving, the pain of trusting acceptance. The pain of knowing that he was needed . . .

Someone needed him . . . someone wanted him . . . someone loved him . . .

"Ryoga . . . "

It took supreme effort to open his eyes, and when he was able to force them open, all he saw was a reality of color and movement. His silver and red-tinged aura swirled around his body restlessly, as if it had been uncoupled from its normal resting place and was seeking a new home to call its own. It was filled with tiny stars, each twinkling sadly as they floated away from him, only to be gathered by the pale aura which rose from Ikioi, and seemed to grow stronger and brighter with each piece of Ryoga that it incorporated. A soft melodious hum filled the space between them, a natural tune that pulsated with the beat of the energy transfusion from Ryoga to Ikioi.

She ran a gentle loving hand down the side of his face. Being drained as he was, he couldn’t respond. He was capable only of gazing up at her, frightened by what was happening, but trusting as well. After all, she loved him, and he could see that love whispering in the ocean of her eyes. The rise of his strength created a gentle wind around them, and it ruffled her long thick hair fluidly, beautifully.

Ikioi drew back, trailing her hand down his neck to pause with her fingertips directly above his sternum, beneath which beat his heart. She gazed at him for a long moment, and then the sound of her voice shimmered through his mind, while her face remained perfectly smooth and unmoving.

(( My Heart, my Everything. I love you and I will grant you every desire that is in your soul, everything that should be yours. As I said before, I ask for only one thing in return, beautiful beautiful Ryoga, and you must give it willingly . . . ))

(( Whatever you want, Ikioi . . . )) Ryoga replied in his mind, knowing that she could hear him. (( As long as you love me . . . ))

(( I will love you forever, Ryoga . . . ))

She lifted her hand from his chest, flattening it with palm down. As she did, Ryoga felt a strange pulling sensation, a tearing that increased in intensity as her hand drew farther away. At first it was only slightly uncomfortable, just a mild grating within his chest that normally would have been simple to ignore. But the discomfort grew, and soon it was pain.

And then agony.

Ryoga shut his eyes tightly, tipping his head backwards, trying not to give in to the sheering burning torment that seemed to be ripping his chest open wide beneath Ikioi’s hand. With his strength and energy depleted, however, resisting the pain was almost impossible. Heartbeat pounding hard in his ears, the young man felt something small and hard strike against the inside of his sternum, something that was trying to get out, drawn like an iron filing to the magnet of Ikioi’s hand. It beat once . . . twice . . . and Ryoga had to bite down a cry that rose in his throat.

Then something inside gave. There was tearing, ripping, shredding . . . Ryoga’s entire body jerked and this time he gave in to a quick scream as unbelievable pain flowered through his entire chest, flashed down his extremities, burned up his spine and into his head . . .

Suddenly it was gone. Drawing in a deep gulp of breath, Ryoga blinked his eyes open, only to squint against the light that was now hovering over his intact chest. Rotating slowly on its axis, a brilliant ball of silver light shimmered and sparkled as it hung in the air, little twinkling colorful bits jetting around it like orbiting satellites. The vibration of a low hum wavered through the air, and Ryoga recognized its song as surely as he recognized himself.

Because it was himself. It was his chi, his spirit. The very thing that made up who he was. And the song it sang was the familiar and comforting thrum that he could constantly hear within his own mind when his thoughts were quiet.

Ikioi lowered her hand until she was touching his chi, and she wrapped delicate fingers around it. Then, with a gentle smile, she slowly crushed it.

Fire raced through Ryoga’s body, suddenly and sharply, as if all of his blood had somehow turned to acid. He wasted his breath in a yelp of pain, and terror filled him as he realized that he could not draw another one. Both his vision and his mind blanked out at the same time, and for a long moment of panic, Ryoga Hibiki knew only cold blackness . . . vacuum . . . nothing . . . death . . .

Then, his vision returned, and he was looking into Ikioi’s eyes. She had released the hold on his chi, but still cradled it in her hands, smiling warmly and lovingly at him. At that moment, Ryoga could not help but think that she was nothing less than a beautiful goddess . . . an omnipotent creatoress which held his very essence in her divine hands.

"Now you belong to me, my beautiful Ryoga," she said, her soft voice chiming delicately through the air. Looking down at his chi, she turned her hand and carefully pressed the precious sparkling ball against her own chest, and it slowly sank within. Ryoga could feel it settling into its new home, becoming one with her . . .

"And now, you truly are my Heart," Ikioi whispered.

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