Miko warily presents:

Justice For The Unfortunate
an off-the-top-of-my-head production

(otherwise known as: I can resist writing up stupid viruses, but I
can't resist writing another justice/misfortune spamfic! Give in to the
temptation! Wriiiiite!) ^_^

Inspired by... well, Grayson Towler's story "Unfortunate Justice", really, but both stories were inspired by Gary Kleppe's "Justice" and a story called "Misfortune" whose author I've already forgotten, and all the silly commentary that followed their postings to the FFML.


        The wind did not howl nor whip about, nor did snow drift down from the night sky. No chill seeped through his thin coat to bite at his limbs. This was all well and good, for this was not a lost, forsaken land, and Hikaru Gosunkugi was not a hardy man.

        Hikaru looked about warily -- both because he was on a dangerous and secret mission for justice, and because he was just a wary guy in general. When Hikaru climbed into bed to sleep each night, he did so warily. Not that being wary had ever helped him any.

        It was the middle of the night, and he was in an unfamiliar part of Tokyo. He was close to the bay -- the salty seaweed smell of the ocean was in the air -- and he was surrounded by ancient, run-down warehouses. The whole area was thick with odd, inky-black shadows and things that creaked in the night. Terror gripped Hikaru's heart -- not just his usual uneasy fear, but serious, I'm-about-to-die terror. And yet, in a way, he also felt comfort. After all, who expected to find justice on a sunny Sunday afternoon, when birds were singing and children were laughing? Certainly not Hikaru Gosunkugi!

        Hikaru sought justice. He sought relief for the pain that gnawed at his gut. For every time he'd been shown up by the others at school; for every time people had made fun of him, and called him weird; for every time he'd lacked the nerve to ask Akane out; and mostly, for every time Akane had spoken to the hated Ranma Saotome. They were mostly words of anger that she spoke, he admitted it, but at least she acknowledged Ranma's existence.

        If only... if only Akane would speak to him. Words of anger, words of sorrow, words... any words at all.

        Hikaru formed his hands into fists, or, at least, made a reasonably valiant attempt to do so. It was all so unfair! Why couldn't fate smile on Hikaru Gosunkugi at least once?

        And the old woman had said that he could find true justice, here, among the warped, worn boards and rusting metal of this warehouse district. She'd said a good many other things besides -- things about voudou curses, zombies, and fate. It might have made more sense if she were black, and spoke with a Haitian accent, but Hikaru was a desperate man. He was willing to believe anyone who offered him hope.

        So long as that hope didn't involve him actually asking Akane for a date, of course.

        Hikaru paused. Ahead, there was a tiny convenience store, set on the corner of an otherwise deserted street. One lone, flickering street light illuminated the corner. This, then, was where she'd said to come. This was where you found justice, always assuming you didn't want to climb the Himalayas, or wander through the desert of central Australia, or something equally foolhardy.

        The door creaked loudly as Hikaru pushed it open. Inside, the place was cluttered and filthy -- what kind of person shopped in a place like this, anyway? And there, sitting behind the counter....

        It was the same old woman whom he'd met in the park.

        "Ah," she said, "well met, stranger! Do you come seeking justice?"

        "I'm not exactly a stranger..." Hikaru began. The woman slammed her hand down on the counter with loud smack. Hikaru jumped three feet, leaving his shoes behind.

        "I SAID, DO YOU COME SEEKING JUSTICE?"

        "Um, w-w-well," Hikaru stammered, "a-actually... yes. Yes, I seek justice."

        "Very well," the woman replied. "State that which you seek, and pass through the gate of justice!"

        With a sweep of her hand, she indicated the back doorway, which appeared to lead to the warehouse. A crude sign was nailed above it, with the word "JUSTICE" scrawled upon it.

        "That's it?" Hikaru asked. "I just walk through here, and...."

        "STATE THAT WHICH YOU SEEK," the woman intoned loudly, "AND PASS THROUGH THE GATE OF JUSTICE!"

        Hikaru nodded, and stepped forward. He summoned all of his courage. "I... seek... that is, I... I wish I had Akane... and... she's so beautiful, her body and... well...that she were mine...."

        His voice trailed off. That seemed to be about as much as he could manage for a stated goal.

        Hikaru walked through the door, and found himself underwater. He swallowed a mouthful, startled. He struggled to the surface. He saw sunlight, and strange trees, and bamboo poles, and many, many more pools. A fat Chinese man in a rumpled brown Mao suit was standing over him, saying something about a spring called "Akanenichuan". And then, Hikaru looked down....

--------

        Hikaru walked through the door, and found himself in a funeral parlour. Before him was an open casket, with the hated Ranma Saotome standing somberly next to it. Hikaru took three steps forward, and saw: Akane lay in the casket, unmoving. Dead.

        Ranma turned to look at Hikaru. "Well," he said, "a deal's a deal." He indicated the casket, and its contents, with his hand. "She's all yours, Gosunkugi."

-------

        Hikaru walked through the door, and found himself in a bedroom. It was not familiar, and yet, he knew that it was his bedroom. THEIR bedroom, in fact.

        Akane lay on the bed. Her hands were tied to the bedpost.

        "You can have my body," Akane said, "but know this, Hikaru Gosunkugi: I will hate you, with every ounce of my being, until the day I see you rot in hell! Is that understood, you sick pervert? I WOULD GLADLY SEE YOU DIE IN A THOUSAND PAINFUL WAYS!!!"

-------

        Hikaru did not step through the door.

        For a moment, he digested the images that flooded his mind. Justice. It was what he sought, was it not? A braver soul would throw caution to the wind, take the plunge, and brave the consequences. Someone like Ranma, or Shampoo, or Ryoga, or Mousse, or Ukyo.

        They would not hesitate. Why should he?

        "Well?" the old woman said. "Do you not seek justice, young man?"

        "Ah," Hikaru said, "I... I think I'll take a rain check...."

FINI



Miko!



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