Ranma 1/2 used without permission
C&C is, as always, welcome and appreciated
find my other works at http://web.infoave.net/~jedediah

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        As the night wore on, he saw the degradation of Nerima Ward had
progressed farther than he had first thought. Many buildings sported busted
windows and graffitti of several types. Slogans were painted on the surfaces
of buildings, advertising that this gang ruled, or that group sucked, and
the typical "Yankee Go Home" slogans.
        He hadn't been accosted by any local hoods while walking the
streets, which was just as well. He wasn't in the mood to clean anyone's
clock tonight. That poor guy in the Nekohanten was enough for one night.

        The walls of the old dojo were cracked and filthy. Grafitti covered
most of the stone surface, various hirigana and kanji with symbols he had
never seen before.
        Several thick boards were nailed across the doors, barring anyone
from entering the property. A large sign adorned the barricaded gate,
proclaiming that the structure was condemned and would be torn down in a wek
or so. The man didn't bother testing the planks, instead leaping over the
wall with practiced ease.
        The Tendo Dojo  was nothing like he remembered it. The once neatly
manicured lawn was overgrown with weeds that were almost waist-high. The dew
dampened his clothing where the weeds touched them, leaving spores in
various spots.
        The moon did little to illuminate the area, allowing him only
glimpses of the boarded-up windows and doors of the house. A quick walk
around the property brought him to the koi pond. Its surface was calm and
black, not a single living creature moving in its depths. A lone styrofoam
cup floated on the surface of the pond, lost in the black depths.
        //How long has it been abandoned?\\ he thought to himself as he made
his way through the weeds to the house proper. 
        
        The boards of the front porch creaked ominously as he put his weight
on them. Fishing out his lighter, he struck the wheel to the flint. The
flame cast a small circle of illumination, not nearly enough to banish the
darkness but better than nothing.
        The planks beneath his feet were dark and soggy. They had probably
succumbed to rot over the years, with nobody to care for them the way Kasumi
did. Stepping cautiously, he made his way to the boarded-up door.
        The boards were loose, easily moving back from the doorway. Holding
the board back with one hand, he entered the former Tendo Home.

        The zippo's light did little to illuminate the shadowed interior of
the house proper. The flickering glow played hell with the shadows, making
them dance to an unheard rhythm as he walked through the corridor.
        The walls were cracked, the wallpaper bubbled and peeling in many
spots. Slats in the walls were visible at irregular intervals, dark and
rotted from years of neglect.
        A light coating of dust covered the floor, the tiny particles
intermingling with another smell. It was the smell of an abandoned home, the
aroma that told of the absence of life in a house's walls.
        How long had the dojo been empty? Five years? Ten? Twenty even? He
didn't know, didn't care. It was irrelevant in any event. Everyone was gone.
        The stairs goraned in protest as he slowly ascended them up to the
second floor. Thankfully, the stairs did not give as he climbed. The glow of
the lighter revealed the damage to the walls and floor when he reached the
second floor. 
        The first door was the guest room, which he checked only briefly.
The empty chamber held little of interest to him, nor did the other chambers.
        He finaly came to the door he had been purposely avoiding. His heart
began to beat faster as his hand gripped the doorknob, tension mounting in
his tightening chest. Taking a few deep breaths, he twisted the knob and
pushd the door inward.

        The sunlight poured in through the window, illuminating the room in
its warm, brilliant glow. A few barbells lay scattered on the floor, along
with a few magazines and some articles of clothing. At the desk ahead sat a
young woman.
        The light bathed her in its glow, casting an almost heavenly aura
about her. The short bob of raven hair shone in the sunlight, making her
look more the part of an angel.
        HIs heart nearly clenched when she turned around, her deep brown
eyes locking with his. Her mouth formed the most perfect smile, nearly
burning itself into his mind as he stared at her. The girl's mouth opened,
the lips forming a greeting. To his utter shock, a shrill scream sounded
from those lips, nearly splitting his ears with its volume.

        The image disappeared, leaving in its place the shadowed interior of
the room, lit only by the lighter. His head turned to the far corner to find
a young girl crouched there.
        She began to quiver as he approached, trying to force her thin frame
deeper into the corner. The glow of the zippo fell over her, exposing the
track marks on her arms.
        He had seen drug addicts in the past, and knew the signs. Part of
him wondered at how much of the shaking was induced by his presence, and how
much was due to her addiction. Another part, though, was outraged at the
fact that some people were using this place as a shack to get high, among
other things.
        He had to resist the urge to grab the frail girl before him and beat
some sense into her. How dare she use this place in such a fashion! All the
memories he had here, and none of them mattered to the scrawny little
junkie. All she cared about was her next fix, and how soon she could get it.
        Without a word, he extinguished the flame on the lighter, the hot
surface burning his hand slightly as he placed it in his pocket. Making his
way to the window, which was surprisingly intact, he opened it and leapt to
the ground below. A running jump put him over the outer wall, and back into
the street.

        Tears welled in his eyes as he remembered that day. The day that
changed the lives of everyone who knew him, and his own. Not a day went by
that he didn't think about it, and wonder if what he did was truly right,
truly for the best.
        Whether it was or not, poring over it would do no good. It was all
in the past, and there was no changing it. For better or for worse, he had
made his decision.
        Noticing the late hour, he made his way down the street, to the
small motel where his room awaited him. It wasn't much, but it served its
purpose. Besides, he wouldn't need it much longer, anyway.

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        Author's Notes.

        Bet you thought I'd dropped this one, didn't ya?! ^_^
        It took me awhile, but I finally got around to it. Oh, this
particular story will be concluded next chapter, coming soon. I hope, anyways...

        Thanks!

Jed