Part 2

___________

   Kasumi fell. Or maybe she rose, it was hard to tell.

   Around her, a whirlwind of shapes and images dashed about, 
through her, over her, beneath her...

   In her hands, the Nanban Mirror pulsed erracticaly. A angry red 
glare had formed around the crack.

   She looked out into the maelstrom, and tried to catch her 
bearings. Scenes came into focus...

   ...It was spring, and Ranma and his father had just arrived. Kasumi 
had no desire to be married off to a stranger, especially someone 
younger than her, and had immediatly nominated Akane as the 
fiancee. She had felt guilty afterwards, but only for a while - 
anyone could see the two were perfect for each other. Anyone but 
them. She often wondered if they would ever stop fighting and...

   ...they've stopped now....

   ...not if I have any say in the matter...

   ...It was winter, and Kasumi had fallen and skinned her knee at the 
pond and it hurt and she started to cry, which was the cue for 
Mommy to enter and make it better but Mommy didn't because...

   ...She had stopped crying, and kissed the knee, and cleaned it, and 
at that moment the Work began...

   ...Where am I?...

   ...It was autumn, and the leaves fell golden brown over the city, 
making it a blanket against the oncoming cold. A new doctor had set 
up practice in the clinic, and Kasumi had taken Akane in to see 
about a cut. The doctor had froze at the sight of her, and she had 
wondered what could ever be the matter, and then she realised that 
she was doing the same, and Akane was tugging at her arm, asking 
what was wrong, not realising that something was instead very, 
very right...

   ...No! The Dojo, May twent...

   ...It was summer, all the summers she had seen run together, and 
there was Mommy and Daddy and Nabiki and Akane and Ranma and 
Tofu and...

   ....She was falling (rising?) further, and the Mirror was throbbing 
in a funny way...

   ...The Tendo Dojo! May 21! Two days before...

   ...The Dojo in spring summer winter autumn then now then soon 
rubble standing both either....

   ...NO! MAY 21! NOW!

   And there it was...

   Kasumi leapt/ran/fell/walked/swooped desparately through the 
blinding crack of the mirror leading to...

* * *

   This isn't my bed, she thought groggily. It's much softer than 
this, and the sun doesn't beat down as hard...

   Kasumi's eyes flicked open, and then it all came flooding back. 
The bomb. Finding the mirror. Using it.

   Where am I?

   She quickly stood, looked around. The dojo rose before her, intact, 
whole, not a pile of rubble and corpses and despair, but home.

   At her feet lay a slowly cooling pile of glowing metal and glass, 
all that was left of the Nanban mirror.

   She had made it. Now all she needed to do was wait until a hour 
before the bombing, and get them all out, and the hell of pain and 
loneliness would be over, would never have even happened...

   Wait. No. You're missing something, something important.

   What? It's simple get them out who cares about the dojo save 
them for God's sake its that simple...

   Why was the bomb planted?

   Who cares it killed them remember the bodies the hospital who 
cares why it did it killed them stop it save them....

   Someone wants them dead. Someone has decided that either one 
or all of my family must die. And if the bomb doesn't work, they'll 
try something else. And the something else probably will work.

   What can I do I don't know who it is God how can I stop it the pain 
just tell them they'll know what to do...

   No. They didn't know what to do last time. This someone isn't like 
the other people who've been trying to attack or kidnap in the past 
year. He or she bombs instead of using martial arts. The poor dears 
just aren't equipped to handle someone who doesn't physically 
charge into combat.

   And you are?

   I'd better be. Who would try to kill them? Why? What possible 
reason...

   Kasumi smiled. It was quite a different type of smile than her 
normal kind. 

   Whatever was wrong, it was a safe bet that it was all Ranma's 
fault. Okay. Time to start watching Ranma.

* * *

   Ranma Saotome was in a good mood. The sun was shining, the 
weekend was almost here, and he had money in his pocket. He also 
had about two days left to live, but he was blissfully ignorant of 
that fact as he strolled along a street in downtown Tokyo.

   Ranma didn't go into the main part of Tokyo very often. He really 
didn't need to; Nerima had just about everything one needed. Except 
a little peace and quiet...

   He sighed. There was the problem. Father's Day was coming up, 
the latest imported holiday. The florists had been touting it for 
months, building up publicity. And Ranma and Akane were stuck 
with the same dilemna that children everywhere have: what on 
Earth does the old man _want_ that I can afford?

   What their fathers apparently wanted, more than anything, was to 
see them married. And that, they had quickly agreed, was going a 
bit far for a present.

   On the other hand, a dinner date would thrill Soun and Genma to 
no end. And, Ranma had stammered, it wasn't like it would be a 
real, I mean, it's not, well...

   Of course not, Akane had replied. It's for them. Just for them.

   But he was looking forward to it anyway. He really wanted this to 
go well, not only for their parents, but for...

   Y'know, she is cute, when she isn't being violent...

   Anyway, the date, which of course really wasn't a date, had to be 
somewhere away from Nerima. So he was looking for a restaurant 
in the city. Otherwise, he knew exactly what would happen; in 
would come Kuno, or Shampoo, or Ryoga....

   "RANMA, PREPARE TO DIE!"

   Ranma turned around to face a charging Ryoga. Speak of the devil, 
he mused, and snapped into a fighting stance.

* * *

   In a back room in downtown Tokyo, a tall, slightly overweight 
man fired a automatic with cool precision, taking down his last 
target. A quick survey of the room showed five corpses. No escapes. 
Good.

   He walked calmly out of the restaurant, and down the street for 
two blocks. The cops in the building across the street had gotten a 
nice good look at him, enough to give a detailed description. He 
entered a store, walked directly to the restroom. Inside, he 
proceeded to become someone else.

   Off comes the beard and layers of fake skin. The platform shoes 
come off as well, to be tucked inside the suitcase that had been 
masquerading as a beer belly a few moments before. The waiter's 
uniform was replaced by a conservative business suit, and the 
pudgy table server becomes the slim, respectable businessman.

   The man known as Cerberus, second only to Carlos the Jackal and 
Jason Bourne in the field of killing, walked out onto the street.

* * *

   "Come on, Pig boy! I'm sure if you try a bit harder you'll be able 
to touch me!"

   Ryoga snarled in anger and frustration, and sent another flurry of 
umbrella swipes in Ranma's direction. "I will rip the heart from 
your chest with my bare hands!"

   Ranma yawned and dodged the blows, tripping Ryoga in the 
process. "You seem awfully mad today, P-chan. What'd I do this 
time?"

   "You have the effrontry to try and date Akane! I shall see you 
suffer a thousand deaths for this!" With that, he made a sudden leap 
at Ranma, tackling him. "DIE, SAOTOME!" The surprised Ranma 
stumbled back....

* * *

   Cerberus strode along the street, basking in the warm sun. The 
rush of adrenaline was fading, and he was ready to go home and 
relax...

   "DIE, SAOTOME!"

   A sudden movement, just out of his line of sight, registered as 
the shout rang out. Instinctively Cerberus spun, his hands 
frantically moving for his automatic...

   He had the pistol about halfway out when the shape hit him, 
sending him tumbling to the ground. The pistol fell from his hand, 
and he prepared to attack hand to hand....

   A kid? Two kids?

   The three of them stared at each other for seconds that seemed 
like an eternity. They looked at him, at the gun, at him, my God, 
they could recognize me, kill them...

   No. Too many people around. Get out, deal with them at leisure.

   Springing to his feet, sweeping the pistol back under his suit 
jacket, the assassin ran.

* * *

   From a alleyway across the street, Kasumi watched, her face an 
impassive mask. So this was how it started. A stupid, meaningless 
coincidence.

   She had seen the gun fall, had seen the man's eyes go wide with 
shock, then narrow. This was the one. She knew it.

   How to stop him?

    Warn them tell them you found him now let them deal with him 
remember those eyes cold dead hard let Ranma or someone deal 
with him...

   But Ranma couldn't deal with him.  It was still up to her. The 
work waited, unfinished.

   Ranma and Ryoga were walking off, talking excitedly. They 
probably thought that what had happened was nothing more than a 
interesting puzzle; something that they would remember in a few 
years, and, over beers, wonder why the man was carrying a gun, 
remember that, guess we'll never know. Kasumi felt an irrational 
wave of anger build, then subside. It wasn't really their fault.

   Walking out of the alleyway, she strolled across the street to a 
cafe. She ordered a cup of tea, and sat down to think.

   She knew why the bomb had been set. She knew what the man 
responsible for it looked like. What she didn't know was what on 
earth she could do about it.

    The man has to go. As long as he's around, they'll never be safe.

   Kill him? She couldn't, that would be...

   You have to do something.

   First things first. The man is obviously afraid of being identified; 
he had the look of a cornered animal in his eyes. The result, she 
knew, would be the 9:30 blast two days hence. But was that the 
first attempt?

   Die Saotome, Ryoga screamed in her mind's eye. He might as well 
have been wearing a magic wishing ring. All the killer had to do 
was look for a Saotome in the Tokyo School System, and it wasn't a 
very common name. 

   Wait outside the school, follow him home, and there it was. They 
would probably try to fake a mugging turned violent, that was less 
attention-catching than a bomb. Ranma, of course, would laugh in 
their faces and make mincemeat out of them. And then they would 
resort to a bomb.

   Kasumi sighed, and sipped her tea. It looked like she would be 
following Ranma again. And then, hopefully, his murderer.

* * *

   Ring. Ring.

   "Furinkan High School, meeting your children's educational needs 
for 30 years, can I help you?"

   "Yes. Do you have a student by the name of Saotome?"

   "Yes, we do.....what kind of damage has he done this time?"

   Click.

   "Hello? Sir?"

* * *

   "RANMA NO BAKA!"

   Akane delivered a mean right hook to Ranma's face with her usual 
accuracy, gave a snort of disgust, and stalked off. Other students 
carefully detoured around the crumpled form lying in the middle of 
the doorway.

  It took him about five minutes to regain consiousness. Groaning, 
picking himself up, Ranma trudged out of the school grounds and 
towards home.

   He wasn't even sure why she had hit him.

* * *

   From behind the wheel of the borrowed car, Cerberus watched the 
boy with amusement. Love problems, and a black eye. Me, you don't 
need.

   The kid had almost reached the street. Rev the engine.

* * *

Kasumi, crouched behind a row of shrubs, watched in horror as the 
blue sedan accelerated, heading straight for Ranma. Remember, she 
thought, he dies in the bomb so he can't die here...

   But that car's going to hit him, it can't miss...

   It will miss. Stay put.

   But...

  Stay put.

* * *

   Ranma heard the noise of the car about two seconds too late. That 
is, too late for anyone else. Instinct taking over, he jumped at the 
car, landed on the roof, rolled down along the trunk, and swung 
down behind the still-accelerating sedan. He half expected it to 
turn around and try again, but it just kept going, disappearing 
around a corner with a screech of brakes.

   He stood there, trembling slightly, realising that he had come as 
close to death as he ever cared to come. And he was still alive.

   The sun beat down on his face, warm. A breeze ruffled his shirt. 
Overhead, a bird made its way home with a flutter of wings. And he 
was still a part of it all.

   Slowly, still shaking, Ranma resumed his walk home.

* * *

   Kasumi wanted to run to him, comfort him, tell him everything 
was all right. That horrible mask of shock he had worn for a second 
was one that she was very familar with. If the universe were just, 
no one would ever have to wear it.

   The car was gone. And it was probably stolen anyway, even if she 
had gotten the licence plates. Dear me, what could she do next?

   Hope for another attempt, that's what. And get something to 
follow the man with. A bicycle, perhaps.

   Only a day and a half left.

* * *

   Ranma's sleep that night was troubled and uneasy. The near-
accident had preyed on his mind all day, casting a shadow over the 
afternoon.

   Kasumi had returned to her hotel, cleaned the rather untidy room 
thoroughly, and then fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

   Cerberus, irritated over his failure, had savored a glass of brandy 
and taken a hot bath. Afterwards, he climbed into his lush, soft 
featherbed and slept the sleep of the righteous.

* * *

   Kasumi woke, screaming in terror and outrage. It was morning.

   It took her several minutes to stop screaming, and afterwards 
she began to feel a little better. She supposed that she had been 
having a nightmare. It didn't really matter. Nothing but the Work 
mattered. Her family.

   She moved around the shabby room, pulling on clothes. Ranma 
wouldn't be awake for a few hours yet, but it was always best to 
get an early start.

* * *

   Ranma awoke, and suddenly it hit him. The car. The guy with the 
gun. Connection? Maybe. Very likely.

   He had to find Ryoga. 

   Ranma sprang from his futon, and began to frantically pull on his 
clothes. He hoped it wasn't already too late.

* * *

   It took him an entire day of frantic searching. Ryoga was a 
grandmaster in the art of getting totally, amazingly, really, really 
lost; and this made finding him that much more difficult.

   He had felt a odd feeling wash over him once or twice, as if 
someone was aiming a searchlight, or other, less benign object at 
him. It might just be nerves, but Ranma didn't think so. He was 
being followed. As darkness fell, he found himself growing 
increasingly edgy. Almost midnight, he thought, turning the corner 
into a back alley. If I don't find him in the next ten minutes or so...

   But there was Ryoga, up ahead, with his usual determined-but-
dumb-as a brick expression. "Yo, Ryoga! Over here!"

   Ryoga turned, the determined look changing to one of relief. 
"Ranma! Could you point me back towards the do..."

   Ryoga was a trained martial artist, and followed his instincts. 
While this normally got him into a lot of trouble, it saved his life 
this time, as he threw himself to the ground. The gunshot came a 
second later,  a flash of light spitting from the shadows at the 
mouth of the alley.

   Ranma, despite vailant efforts to appear so over the past year, 
was not stupid. The equasion Guns+Martial Arts=Dead Martial Artist 
ran swiftly through his head, and he dived to cover behind a pile of 
crates.

   Ryoga, possessed of a lack of good sense almost equal to his lack 
of navigational ability, sprangs to his feet, whipped out his 
umbrella, and charged.

   A second shot rang out, and Ryoga fell to the ground clutching his 
shoulder.

   Ranma noticed himself rising, screaming something, and running 
towards the gunman in a evasive pattern. Might as well go along 
with it, he thought, and sprang forward in a jumpkick.

   The gun flew from his assailent's hand, and Ranma saw him 
clearly. A short guy in a ski mask, nothing at all like the 
businessman they had collided with the day before yesterday.

   The gunman pulled himself up, thought for a second, and ran. 
Ranma let him go, he was more concered about Ryoga, let him be 
alive, please...

   He was. The bullet had just grazed him. "Ranma? Is it...bad?"

   "You were just winged. C'mon, let's get you back to the dojo. I'm 
gonna call Dr. Tofu."

* * *

   The gunman ran, and Kasumi followed.

   Pedaling the rented bicycle, she glided after the fleeing man. He 
had pulled off his mask as he ran, and she could see that he wasn't 
the one Ranma had bumped into. 

   He jumped into a parked car, and drove off. Kasumi would have 
sworn if she had known how. He was pulling away, darn it...

   She leaned forward in the seat, and concentrated on the slowly 
shrinking tailights in front of her, like a pair of mocking eyes. 
Breath was coming harder now, pumping the pedals up and down 
was no longer a smooth, automatic motion.

   She played her mind on a certain hospital room, and kept pedaling.

   But the spirit can only drive the body so far, and after fifteen 
minutes, it bacame apparent that she would lose the car.

   Panting, crying, Kasumi pulled her bicycle to a halt...

   ...just as the car pulled into a driveway.

   As she watched, a certain man came out of the house. She had 
found him.

   The bomb!

   Tonight is the night!

   Leaping back on the bicycle, Kasumi rode on the wind, her 
destination the Tendo dojo.

* * *

   The man moved steathly down the hall of the dojo, looking for a 
good place to hide the bundle he carried. Dressed in a black costume 
akin to a ninja or cat burglar's, he had a definite air of the feline to 
him. On the bundle, a timer slowly tore away seconds.

   This was fairly easy, really. He had thought that a dojo, with all 
them karate types, would be hard to get into. But no; he just came 
in through an unlocked window, easy as anything. Now all he had to 
do was place this...

   "Excuse me."

   He spun around, expecting to come face to face with a seven-foot 
tall, firebreathing black belt. Instead, he found himself staring at a 
young woman in a tattered apron. She was smiling, but he could see 
the fear behind her eyes. Predators are very good at sensing fear.

   The man smiled. Cerberus had told him to stay out of sight, but he 
had also told him what to do to anyone who saw him. He would have 
fun with this one.

   With a sudden, fluid motion, he lunged for her. One hand clamped 
around her mouth, the other wrapped around her waist, and he began 
to wrestle her to the ground.

   He felt a sudden pain then, from his chest. Pain and a wet 
sensation. The strength drained from his arms, and he slowly, 
almost reluctantly looked down at the knife embedded in his side.

   It was a simple, wood-handled kitchen knife; the blade nicked and 
the handle notched from hours of chopping vegetables. There was 
one like it, or several, in every well established kitchen.

   He looked up at the stupid, vacant-eyed girl, choked, and fell into 
blackness.

* * *

   Kasumi stared at the corpse, and couldn't decide whether to cheer 
or throw up.

   In the end, of course, she did neither. She just stared at the person
she had 
killed. A pool of crimsom was slowly begining to 
spread across the clean tile floor.

   She had killed him. Her. Killed a real, living, breathing person. 
And, as hard as she tried, she couldn't bring herself to feel any kind 
of sorrow for the man. Just a numb, empty feeling.

   She turned him over, and plugged the wound with part of his shirt. 
Then she went to the closet, brought out her mop and bucket, and 
methodically cleaned every inch of the floor, marveling at how 
easily the blood was scrubbed away.

   Quietly, so as not to wake the sleeping household, she dragged the 
man and his bundle outside. There, on the lawn, she went through 
his pockets until she found the ring of keys. Leaving him under a 
bush, she walked down the street to where his car waited.

   Kasumi was the only one in the family besides her father who 
could drive. She wasn't very good at it, but she was able to pull up 
in front of the dojo without making too much noise. Getting out, she 
prepared to transfer both body and bomb to the back seat of the 
auto.

    She was hefting the heavy, dead weight in a fireman's carry 
when she heard the noises coming from Nabiki's window. She 
stopped, cocked her head, and for a few seconds just stood there 
and listened.

   Kasumi slowly began to blush, her face turning a deep crimson. A 
big, foolish grin emerged. Nabiki? And HIM, of all people? A couple? 
How long had this been going on?

   Whenever it had started, this was just what Nabiki needed. Money 
had been her chief love for far too long, and it was high time for 
her to find someone special.

   Humming with contentment, Kasumi carried the corpse to the 
rear of the car. Then she picked up the bomb, placed it on the seat 
beside the driver's, and slid behind the wheel. People who give you 
gifts, she thought giddily, should get gifts in return.

   Starting the car, she drove away.

* * *

   She parked about a block from the house. Removing the corpse's 
black sweater, Kasumi carefully wrapped the bomb in it. The timer 
gave her about three hours.

   Dawn was breaking, but the sun had not yet fully risen; the cover 
of darkness would be hers. Slowly, creeping from bush to tree, she 
made her way toward the lair of her family's murderer.

   The house was a pleasant looking middle-class home; it was hard 
for her to imagine it as a nest of bombers. You were expecting a 
seedy brick tenement?, she thought wryly, as she scanned the near 
wall for a means of enterance.

   They've left the window unlocked. Good. She just needed to lift 
the pane....there we go.....climb through, mind the sill, tripping and 
falling is the last thing you need. My goodness, it's actually fairly 
tidy in here. It's......a kitchen. With pots and jars and racks and 
drawers and is that an apron hanging on the door? Do monsters like 
him wear aprons, just like me? Do they cook meals for their 
families and friends, and feel pride in it? How can they do that and 
then go out and do such horrible things?

   Dear me, what if this isn't his house?

   She would have to make sure. She couldn't just place the bomb 
and leave, not when this kitchen gave doubt to his presence.

   Bending over, she opened a cabinet beneath the sink. The wrapped 
bundle was placed behind a row of plastic detergent bottles and 
cleansers. Straightening, she walked towards the kitchen door, and 
grasped the handle.

    Run run he's here don't do this run you'll be caught run....

   No. She had to be sure. She would not cause some poor family the 
pain that she had felt. She had to be sure.

   Kasumi opened the door and stepped into the hall. Moving as 
quietly as she could, she opened the first door she came to.

   There was the man, all right. Awake and staring right at her. Oh 
dear.

   Kasumi turned to run, and heard the bark of a gunshot. Something 
grabbed her by the shoulder and threw her at the far wall, and then 
all was blackness.

* * *

    She hurt, and she wasn't sure where she was....

   "She's awake."

   Her eyes flicked open, jerkily. The man and two other stood 
before her, looming like statues. She had been propped in a corner, 
and her left shoulder, God, the blood, it hurt...

   "Who are you?"

   She wasn't sure who had spoken. The room - the kitchen, they had 
brought her into the kitchen - was moving, shaking. The men didn't 
seem to notice.

   The clock on the microwave caught her eye. 9:17. So.

   "Who sent you? Do you know those boys? What where you after?"

   She would have to stall them, keep them here. "How can you cook 
here and do such terrible things?"

   The man in the center looked startled. "It's a hobby. Killing is a 
business. Who sent you?"

   "But how can you..."

   "I cook for relaxation," he said patiently. "And I savor the results.
What good are expencive foods if you can't prepare them well?"

   He cooks for himself, Kasumi realized.

   "Who sent you? Why are you here?"

    She looked around the beautiful, homey kitchen, and let her gaze 
rest on the stained apron in the corner.

   "I would talk. You won't like what we'll do if you don't."

   The breadboard in the corner had several notches in it, and a few 
stalks of celery rested on it. She idly wondered what they were for; 
a vegetable stew, perhaps, or a salad...

   "Hurt her."

   The two men closed in, sadistic grins on their faces, as Kasumi 
turned her attention to the gas stove, a rather old model and not 
very clean...

* * *

   She was being torn apart, the men just kept laughing...

   ...the world was red and whirling, a rioting dance of pain, and the 
laughter went on...

   ...She felt something break inside, and the pain moved in a 
different direction and the laughing speared through her and she 
couldn't reach the pan for some reason...

   ...Howling laughter, as the blows and boots and fists rained down 
into her haze of self, she heard someone scream in agony and 
realized it was her, and the silly pan was just out of reach, how 
would she make dinner without it? And they were so hungry, and 
she had the work still to do so that nothing bad would happen...

   The laughter changed, going from cruel to gentle. "Kasumi? 
Kasumi dear?"

   Mommy wanted her. She ran over, and Mommy tucked her into bed. 
"You sleep now, Kasumi. You've had a long day."

   ...The blows rained down, somewhere, and someone's ribs broke 
and speared deep, sending a wrench of...

   Kasumi was tired, and snuggled down beneath the cool sheets. 
"But the work, it's not done..."

   Mommy smiled, and kissed her cheek. "Tomorrow we'll do it 
together, you and I." Kasumi gave a sigh of contentment, and held 
Mommy's hand.

   ...Pain, somewhere somewhere distant...

   The clock hit 9:30, and Kasumi fell asleep.

* * *

    The doorbell pealed. Akane stood up, and began to walk into the 
hall to answer it. Maybe Kasumi had gotten home from her seminar. 
At least then she wouldn't have to hear about how she couldn't 
cook; she could, she knew she could.

   At the door, Ukyo paused, adjusting her clothing. After making 
sure everything was in order, she rang the bell. Ukyo hoped he liked 
the dress; she had picked it out especially for him.

   The door opened to reveal Akane, who looked less that thrilled to 
see her.

    "Akane! Um, is, ah, Ranchan in?"

    "He's still asleep. Would you like to come in?"

   She didn't sound very enthusiastic about the idea, Ukyo noted. Too 
bad for her. "I'd love to," she smiled.

* * *

   Nabiki climbed out of bed, stretching and rubbing the sleep from 
her eyes. The doorbell rang, probably Kasumi getting home from her 
seminar. It had been a while since Kasumi had left home, and the 
dojo just hadn't been the same for the last few days.

   She pulled on her clothes, grabbed her ledger and pen, and ran 
downstairs to see Kasumi.

   It turned out not to be Kasumi after all, but Ukyo. And Ryoga. And 
Tofu. What was this, a convention? At least everyone seemed 
peaceful enough...

   "You'll cook for us, Ucchan? Thank you so much! I've been scared 
to death of having to eat another of Akane's charcoal breakfasts!"

   "RANMA NO BAKA! *whack*

    "You hit Ranchan, you...!"

     "Kawaikuneeeeeeeeee......."

   Nabiki sighed, and began to total up how much the hole in the roof 
would cost to fix.

* * *

   Saburo watched as Ranma Saotome soared heavenward as if shot 
from a cannon. Let's see, he mused, that angle should take him 
towards....

   A distant splash was heard.

   ...the river. Saburo grinned. He loved this town.

   Whistling a merry tune, he strode off. Around him, the birds sang 
of the pure joy of life.

   Morning in Nerima.

* * *

   Kasumi arrived home from her seminar to find the whole family 
gathered in front of the TV. "I'm back, everyone!"

   Soun looked up, his face relieved. "Kasumi! Thank Heaven you're 
safe!"

   Akane looked exasperated. "Daddy, Oneechan's seminar was in 
Osaka. The bombing was in Tokyo. Somehow I don't think she was in 
any danger."

   Kasumi looked mildly interested.  "Bombing?

   "Some lunatic blew up a house downtown. They think the owner 
was some kind of terrorist or something, and one of his bombs 
went off in his face."

   "Oh my!"

* * *

    Later that evening, the phone rang.

   Kasumi put down her broom and got it on the second ring. "Hello, 
Tendo Residence?"

   The voice on the other end was solemn, heavy. "This is Police 
Examiner Okawa, down at the 23 precinct. I'm very sorry to have to 
tell you this, but...um, are you Mrs. Tendo?"

   "Oh mercy, no!," Kasumi laughed. "I'm Mr. Tendo's daughter, 
Kasumi Tendo."

   Silence for a few moments. "You're.....Kasumi Tendo?"

   "Yes. Is something wrong, Police Examiner?"

   "I'm sorry, Miss Tendo. There seems to have been a mistake. Good 
night."

   "Good night," Kasumi said, puzzled. She shrugged. It couldn't have 
been very important.

   With a smile, Kasumi resumed her Work.
_____________
Finis.


Ex cathedra - Author's Notes:

    This took me quite a while to write, especially the second half.
Perhaps that's because I knew from the beginning how the story 
was going to turn out. Most of my stuff just kinda writes itself - 
I'll stop suddenly and just stare at what I're written, and think, 
"Now where the hell did that come from?". I knew exactly where 
this story was going, from the first word...and perhaps that slowed 
me down. It sounds strange, I know, but I hear that other writers 
have had similar problems.

   My original goal was to write a story with Kasumi as the main 
character. Why? I've always been kinda curious about her, what 
she's really like. Character development was not a priority for 
Kasumi in the anime. But what we do see gives us a lot of 
questions. Why is she like that? How can she possibly see things in 
such a rosy light?

   The easy answer, of course, is because that's the way Takahashi 
wrote her. My personal theory is that Nabiki and Kasumi were both 
intended as parodies of the two extremes of Japanese women - the 
traditional, subservient housewife and the motivated, profit-
seeking businesswoman. The resulting characters poke fun at both 
the people they parody and the stereotypes that others apply to 
them.

   Of course, that's all very good in RL. But it still doesn't tell us 
why Kasumi acts the way she does. I wanted to do a piece that 
would give us an idea of how she thinks.

   The first few storylines that I thought of were comedies. I 
discarded them as not being a good match for the goal.

   A strong idea was to explore the way Kasumi felt about Dr. Tofu, 
but I just couldn't think of an interesting story to go along with it.

    Finally, I settled on having Kasumi play detective in a comic 
mystery. I revved up the Mac, and began to type. And realized that I 
had problems.

   There was no earthly reason for Kasumi to try to solve anything. 
She's too damn passive. If something odd happened, Ranma and 
Ryoga and Akane would be the ones to investigate, while Kasumi 
tossed off an "Oh my!" and baked something. I had to come up with a 
way to (1) Make Ranma & Co. unavailible, and (2) Give Kasumi a 
reason to act strong enough to penetrate her blissful state of 
existance.

   That's the moment the fic turned dark.

   Kill off everyone but Kasumi. Have Kasumi seek revenge.

   No. First of all, that's not Kasumi's style. Second, I didn't want to 
write something _that_ dark. I wanted a portrait of Kasumi, not a 
Kasumi Goes Rambo piece. There had to be a way out, a chance for a 
happy ending.

   Kidnap? Yeah, right. Stealing Akane is one thing, but kidnapping 
every major cast member and sucessfully holding them would take 
a small army. And if something like that DID happen, Kasumi would 
probably do the sensible thing - call the police.

   Time travel. Wasn't there some kinda mirror or something?

   I posted a request to the FFML, and promptly got a responce from 
HTG. Cool. This was perfect. Kill them all!
   I finished part one and posted it. Since this was a darkish, 
serious piece, I was nervous about the responce. Frankly, I was 
going to consider myself lucky if I even got three pieces of C&C.

   As it turned out, I got 42 pieces. Wow. Most people seemed to like 
it. Others told me that if I didn't make Kasumi feel better RIGHT 
THAT INSTANT, they would do unpleasant things to me.

   And then came the Really Long Type. I finished Nameless 8 & 9, 
did some work on a couple non-anime projects, and settled down to 
type this thing.

   I went through 4 different revisions. Normally fanfic writing is 
smooth and effortless, but this....gah. Glad it's done.

   The names of the two other assasins are from Robert Ludlum's 
Bourne Trilogy, which had a slight impact on the story.

   Great big thank you's go to Harvey Griffin, Matt Trotter, Joyce 
Torres?, Kergma, and especially Travis Butler. And those who 
wrote C&C, well, bless you. :)

   Much of this fic was written to the strains of Enya's "Cursum 
Perficio", and lots an lots of Bach.

- M. Loader