Disclaimer: There comes a time in every person's life when they're forced to sort of stop, look around, and wonder what the hell they're doing with their life. For some, it is a brief, passing moment. For others, it lasts the rest of their natural born lives. Me? Heh, I'm too far gone to care in this stage of the game. Boo ya.

. . . that was rather pointless. o_O I don't own these characters - as for the villains, Naomi is mostly owned by friend named, egads, NAOMI, and I own as much of Marc as I can get aroused. Other villains. . . yeah. . . they're mine. God they're messed. Just like me. =D

Rating: Of course I'm keeping the whole thing R for obvious reasons. I mean, really.

Author's Notes: It just occurred to me that I really should be doing these note thingies at the END of the chapter. Well, aren't I intelligent. Eh-hyeh, ahm uh hi skool stewdint, an ahm smurt!!!!!!11111

. . . dear gods, I promise to never to that again. o_o;

Anyhoo, semester two has now officially started, and egads it's heavier than first semester. XD; However, if my past habits have proven anything, it's that I work faster under such busy pressures. So hey. Not too shabby. BTW, Ch. 12 was horrendous, what with the spelling errors and whatnot. I know, you know, we all know, cats and dogs living together, it's anarchy. I'll try to be more careful in the future. ^^;

Welp, my crappy-ass spelling aside, here for you, now showing on servers and monitors everywhere is. . .

~*~

~*Pandora*~

~*~

She felt numbness swamp her as she stared blankly at an unseen point on the floor, eyes wide. Her breathing was unsteady and shallow, adrenaline coursing freely through her veins, feeling light-headed which, consequently, also made her feel dizzy. Swallowing dryly, she put a minutely shaking hand to her temple, where the unforgivably cold barrel of the man's gun had been pressed; she thought that maybe she could still feel it against her head, that weapon that the man had.

It was then that one, rather disturbing thought managed to pierce through the numb shock that had encompassed her body - with one little move of his finger backwards, she could have been dead. Dead. Just like that. Nabiki swallowed dryly, running her shaking hand through her hair, expelling her shuddering breath; around this time, she recognized a shadow draping her form, and the fact that someone had just come up beside her, however she really didn't care at the moment.

Nabiki was forcibly startled out of her state of apathetic shock at the sensation of strong, warm hands on her shoulders. With a small gasp of surprise, Nabiki looked up at whoever had touched her, her mahogany eyes uncharacteristically wide; there right in front of her, with his fingers lightly clutching onto her shoulders, was Kuno. His face was a visage of concern, the boy's eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"Nabiki, are you alright?" he asked her, his voice sounding quite a bit like silk flowing over an ocean current. Cobalt eyes met chocolate brown ones, trying to see if the girl on the floor would be, indeed, alright. Biting her lip and tearing her gaze from his, she sighed wearily, nodding her head after a prolonged period of time.

"Yeah," she managed to squeak out, the word sounding more pathetic out loud than it did even in her mind, "Yes, I'm alright." Though Kuno didn't believe her for an instant, he let it slide for now.

Nabiki closed her eyes, trying to shut out all the distractions surrounding her. Ranma was arguing with Ryoga about being able to stop the man who had just escaped (Ranma said he could catch him, Ryoga was telling him that they should wait, etc.), and Akane had just hurried beside Nabiki, nearly pushing Kuno out of the way in her haste, asking Nabiki if she was okay; Nabiki responded much in the same fashion to Akane as she did to Kuno, with a quick 'yes'.

"Will you be okay to stand? Do you need any help?" Kuno inquired, worry obviously evident in his grey eyes.

"No, I should be alright," she murmured, beginning to get up. Obligingly, Kuno removed his hands from Nabiki's shoulders, and she couldn't help but regret it somewhat. Sure, it would be much easier just to let Kuno pick her up like some damsel in distress, but... well, that wasn't Nabiki Tendo. No, she was doing this on her own, loss of bodily warmth or not.

So she began to stand. Nabiki certainly wasn't counting on the fact her legs would feel quite a bit like a wobbly Jello mold gone horribly wrong. This did not go unnoticed by Kuno, who once again queried as to if Nabiki was alright or not, to which she responded:

"Anh-!" Her once trusty legs, which were now devoid of all trust in Nabiki's mind, had given out on her, causing her to fall forward. She would've hit the wooded floors of the hallway and been in a substantial amount of pain, if not for the fact that Kuno was standing in front of her. Right into his arms she fell, her head resting against his flat, muscled chest, his strong arms encircling her waist, semi-hugging her to him. Once again, the back, nether-regions of her mind churned with mixed thoughts, some of which concerning how nice it felt to be held by him. If she could, Nabiki would've slapped herself silly, possibly with some sort of blunt instrument.

"Nabiki!" he called out, distress obvious in his voice. He looked down at her, his arms safely around her waist, noting that she really wasn't making a move to get up anytime in the near future. To Kuno, this signaled something was terribly wrong.

"Nabiki, are you sure you are not hurt?" he questioned, his voice much more frantic than it was before. Nabiki, however, lifted her head, looked up at Kuno, and arched her eyebrow in a fashion that both relieved and somewhat annoyed the boy holding her.

"Only my image is wounded," she replied, beginning to force herself out of Kuno's surprisingly comfortable embrace. Nodding in compliance, with a small sigh he withdrew his arms from around her form, allowing her to stand on her own. She looked down again, closing her eyes, resting a hand on her forehead; her nerves were still badly shaken, but now was not the time to show this. Even as that Marc person had said, they had to sort through the priorities first. Which meant. . .

"Kuno, what in hell is going on?" she asked quietly, almost mumbling the words. Her previous warm-and-fuzzy-feelings of being in the arms of Nerima's resident idiot (which, really, was a spectacular feat, considering all the idiots who lived in Nerima) were completely obliterated by the tiny, little fact that a scary man with serious Gothic issues apparent in the form of a black trench coat had pressed a gun to her head mere minutes before.

Kuno stood there, staring down at Nabiki, his mind screaming at him to formulate an answer; his jaw and lips seemed to be working, but his tongue was refusing to produce any sort of coherent sound. Desperately, he too wished he understood what was happening to him and those around him.

It was around this time that a worried Kasumi, stricken Soun Tendo, and a groggy panda bear entered into the hallway; the Tendo patriarch looked about ready to go into full-fledged panic attack mode, which was not a pretty thing to be forced to behold.

"What's going on? I heard shouting, then someone swore, and then - oh my gods, is that a bullet hole in my wall?!" Mr. Tendo shouted, his eyes as wide as bowling balls as he beheld a small, somewhat smoking hole in the plaster of the hallway wall. Kasumi gasped, looking at everyone in the immediate vicinity, trying to make sure that no one was hurt.

"Is everyone alright? What happened?" she asked, an underlying tone of urgency present in her characteristically soft voice.

"We're all okay," Akane assured her older sister; her father was still staring at the gun hole in the wall, whimpering disturbingly, still unsure of what to make of it. Something clicked in the back of her mind, cheerfully reminding her that regular, old-fashioned nuclear families did not have a nineteen year old, unmarried girl as the resident matriarch to take care of unstable adults and/or younger siblings. She didn't think much of it."

"Then what happened?" Kasumi gently prodded, wringing her hands together against her apron. Ranma-chan turned her head slightly, looking over her shoulder at Kuno rather meaningfully. The kendoist, feeling the presence of eyes on his body, glanced up to see the Pigtailed Girl staring intently at him, as if awaiting an answer herself to Kasumi's question. Kuno, his hands trembling minutely from the adrenaline rush of moments before, forced his eyes away from the red haired girl's face - indeed, now that he was consciously looking, all eyes were on him, expecting some sort of response.

He closed his eyes, hating the stares of all those around him; with his head slightly bowed, he attempted to formulate an answer - somehow, saying 'A strange German man with a gun broke in to tell me he has my sister and wants me instead' sounded unbelievable and vaguely homoerotic.

"I. . ." Kuno sighed softly, feeling defeated before the fight had even begun.

"I do not know." His voice was eked out rather pathetically as the boy shifted his gaze upwards; Kasumi held the same expression of bemused worry, Soun's eyebrows were furrowed in thought, the panda had... wandered off somewhere...

His red haired goddess no longer bore her previous expression of loathsome scathing, but was obviously still wary of Kuno, watching every move he made. Kuno could feel his heart slowly being ripped in two because of this. Ryoga was keeping his own eye on the girl, but was also glancing back at Kuno periodically, with what could be interpreted as sympathy in his eyes; Akane looked outright confused, and Nabiki...

...as always, her expression was unreadable. She was observing Kuno, but he couldn't tell at all what it was she was thinking or feeling. Biting down hard on his lip, he found himself almost staring at Nabiki, as if trying to persuade her to think of him as not guilty, as it were, with just his penetrating gaze. He found no such assurance.

"I should go," Kuno said, his voice disturbingly monotone as he tore his eyes from Nabiki's unflinching face, quickly padding away from sight. Silence descended upon the group. Nabiki watched as Kuno left down the adjacent hall, and she debated in her mind whether or not to follow him.

"We can't just let him go," Ranma stated, crossing her arms over her ample chest; while it was true she still looked cautious, she no longer had the same sort of menace as before on her pretty features. Of course, she wasn't about to move any time soon, either.

All eyes, in all their unanimous shifting, now targeted one Nabiki Tendo, who was looking down the hall Kuno had just passed down. Feeling the presence of numerous gazes on her, she looked over her shoulder - indeed, everyone residing in the Tendo abode was looking at her. Nabiki blinked.

"And no one else is capable of walking down the hallway? Akane, you go talk to him. You know how he feels about you," Nabiki said, arching an eyebrow as she leaned against the wall. Needless to say, Nabiki was curious about the situation, however she felted quite pep-talked out for the night.

"Well it was your idea to bring here in the first place," Akane reminded her older sister, looking evenly at Nabiki, "and you deal with him better - he's never wanted to be all over you, it'd be easier for you." Nabiki found her left eye twitched slightly at her younger sister's statement, though it went unnoticed by her terribly unobservant family. Sighing, she shook her head.

"I just think he would rather listen to you is all, Akane." 'Another sad part of the patented Kuno!Brand© logic,' she thought. The brunette turned to direct her gaze at Ranma, in all her girl-type glory.

"Of course, you could always talk to him. That is, unless you kill him instead." Nabiki shrugged. "But either way works, doesn't it Ranma?" Sarcasm oozed from her voice like venom.

"Nabiki..." Ranma breathed out irritably, glaring at the middle Tendo daughter with a hint of disdain. She rolled her eyes, shifting her weight off the wall, standing fully.

"It was a joke, easy tiger," she said, sarcasm pulled taught in her vocal chords as she held up her hands in a sign of defense. "Fine, I'm voted off the island. I'll go talk to our resident psychopath."

With her last statement, she shot a meaningful glare at Ranma, and then proceeded to make her way down the same hall Kuno had passed through but moments before. Her feet, still in her fuzzy blue slippers, padded soundlessly down the wooded hallway, her breath coming out in a shaky sigh; Nabiki hated to admit it to herself, but even now, the little fiasco with that German man (Marc, was it?) still had her quite shaken up.

She expelled another unsteady breath, pausing her walking in the hallway for a moment - the entire situation, she felt, seemed utterly ludicrous, if not morbidly so. While it was true that Nerima was a hotbed of oddities, the unbelievable had become a rather... well, believable fixture over the waning months. In fact, it was very close to a year since Ranma had showed up at the porch of the Tendo home in his busty lady form, with his (her, she corrected internally) panda father. That, while strange at the time, had now become a mere staple of normality.

This? No. This was extraordinary; this was a shock of reality, piercing through the bubble world that was Nerima and a select few residing within said dome. Martial arts were violent, granted, but Nabiki had grown up with it. There was an honour code, and it promoted discipline, fairness, and in some instances, even peace. Today, a man had threatened to kill her with a gun, just because she was there. Nabiki had nearly forgotten how much she despised reality.

Before she knew it, she found herself in the not-so-grand foyer of her home; Nabiki stopped by the staircase, watching the boy before her. He had a duffel bag slung over one of his broad shoulders, and he was currently heading for the front door. Nabiki cleared her throat.

"And where are you off to in such a hurry?" she asked, her arms crossed. Kuno jumped slightly, before freezing in his movements. His head snapped up at hearing the familiar, droll tone; he looked over his shoulder at Nabiki, and his surprise quickly faded to a look of dull resignation.

"I am obviously not welcome here, therefore I am leaving," he stated, making surprisingly logical sense. Well, according to him, at least.

"Well gee, no offense Kuno-baby, but it's not as if that's never stopped you before." Kuno sighed, irritation evident on his features; he dimly accepted the fact that Nabiki's patronizing tone was making his bottom lip want to tremble, and he felt about ready for another breakdown, if only he had the energy.

"Nabiki..." he breathed out in warning, however it was rather obvious that the girl was not in the least bit intimidated. She smirked, but it felt strained.

"Give me the real reason you're talking off. Wait..." she began, tilting her head, "I already know why." He let out a short, soft laugh, and his hand unconsciously tightened around the strap of his bag.

"Heh. Of course you would."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He simply sneered.

"I figured you, of all people, would know."

Sucking a bit on her lower lip, she looked straight at the kendoist, their gazes leveled. Feeling oddly vexed, she quietly huffed out her breath.

"Kuno-baby, just stay," she said simply, as the boy began to turn away. Nabiki could practically hear the sarcastic smile in his voice as he spoke, turning his head a bit to take a good, long look at her.

"What am I, Nabiki Tendo? Your dog? Do you really think I would remain here simply because you asked me to?" She huffed at this, her toes curling within her slippers as whatever semblance of a smile vanished from her face.

She closed her eyes - she was not going to lose her temper. She was not. It would be terribly unproductive at this juncture in time, anyway.

"No. I know you wouldn't if I commanded you, as you put it. You don't work that way." She paused. "I'm just making a suggestion, because your other options aren't looking too pretty."

"Feh. And what of my other options?" he asked sardonically, turning his head in an impudent fashion, being flippant in tone and hair. Nabiki kept a level gaze.

"It's here, your house, or the streets. You'd be eaten alive out on the streets of Tokyo at night, rich boy - maybe you'd be picked up by one of those nice men, if you know what I mean. Then," she said, leaning against the side of the stairs, "your house is sort of blocked off by the police, isn't it? What with all the blood." Kuno flinched at this, looking down. Nabiki felt pity flutter inside of her momentarily, and her voice softened.

"Or you could stay here until we figure all this out, because believe it or not, I want to help you. I hate seeing you like this," she nearly whispered, running a hand through her hair. Something inside Nabiki screamed at her for making such a confession, but she squashed that tiny, shallow voice. Kuno faltered for but a moment before he scoffed.

"And what makes you think," he began, turning to look at Nabiki, his voice somewhat hollow, "that I, the great Tatewaki Ku-"

"Would you stop being a stubborn bastard for once?" she half yelled at him, feeling a bit of embarrassment welling up inside of her from what she had said before. However, before she could say anything caustic, she remembered to take into consideration the situation they were in, and that she was trying to help, for once. The normally apathetic girl strode up to Kuno, looking up at him, mentally damning his statuesque tallness.

"You're upset, worried, and you''re afraid, Kuno-baby. And before you even ask, no, I'm not making fun of you, because I'd be even more worried if you weren't feeling those things - and yeah, I am worried. Something serious and painful has happened to you, and it's no use trying to pretend everything's fine now, because it isn't. I… I know what it''s like to lose someone." She exhaled her breath softly, her deep, chocolate brown eyes closing for a moment, trying to will away the memories of her mother that invariably came back to her.

"Nabiki…?"

"Do you really think running away like this will help to get your sister back?" she asked, her voice sounding more choked than she would've liked. Bravely, she opened her eyes, and looked right back at him, feeling her threatening tears dispersing, managing to will them away. "She needs your help, and in order for that to happen, you have to let me help you first."

Nabiki continued to look up at Kuno, tearing her thoughts away from more dangerous, emotional territory by observing Tatewaki's reactions. He stared back down at her, his lips slightly parted, his eyes widened a bit in shock as he digested what Nabiki had said and the way she was acting. Swallowing dryly, his fingers slacked, almost ashamedly, around the straps of his bag, and he turned his face to look at the duffel slung to his side. His wide shoulders minutely fell, his eyebrows furrowed in thought, which swiftly gave birth to shame.

"Warriors aren''t supposed to run," he murmured under his breath, cloudy gaze turned downwards. They booth stood silently for a moment; Nabiki bit her lip in worry when it didn't look as if Kuno was going to speak any time soon.

"Kuno-baby…?" she prodded, feeling the roles had reversed from just moments before. She did want to fill the void that was quietness, and yet, he still didn't speak.

"Kuno, you are a warrior, okay? But warriors also have to plan and think, and adapt. That's what separates them from the idiots who're just fighters." Nabiki wasn't necessarily a warrior or a 'fighter' herself - but she was an observer. She knew the difference; like how Genma was a practicing fighter for all that was sloth and ignorance, and his son… as much as she hated to admit it most of the time, yes, Ranma was a warrior. She could see the qualities of a warrior in both Ranma and the boy before her, and though said qualities were made blind behind Kuno''s many and varied façades, they were there.

They were just hidden.

The silence came to a close as Kuno lifted his head, and removed the bag from his shoulders, gently placing it on the ground. He stared into her eyes.

"I shall stay, Nabiki."

~*~

Ironically enough, Kuno ended up sleeping with Ranma that night. Of course, this was in the purely non-sexual sense; however, with all the tossing, turning, and generally moving about that Ranma did in his sleep, he and Kuno could very well have gotten to third base without being consciously aware of it.

Neither boy had seemed terribly happy at the idea of being forced to share the same bedroll, but there was no other way -- the Tendos did not have any more extra cots, and sharing a bed with any of the girls was simply out of the question (though Nabiki had teasingly offered, to which Kuno had to quickly run to the bathroom for 'personal business'). Sharing a bed with Soun and Genma felt somehow illegal as well.

This left the option of bedding (with) either Ryoga or Ranma. Kuno immediately chose Ryoga, but as luck would have it, Ryoga's old sleeping bag could barely fit the nomad inside of it, never mind a rather tall and broad-shouldered young man. Ranma privately asked Ryoga why he couldn't just change into P-Chan, hop on the good hoof and sleep in Akane's bed, leaving his sleeping bag open for Kuno. Ryoga cryptically replied that Kuno and Ranma needed to kiss and make up.

Whatever that meant.

So there they were, in the dark, mostly asleep. The night was filled with the heavy snores of a panda-fied Genma, and the steady, almost rhythmic breathing of both Ryoga and Ranma; Ranma's one arm had managed to sprawl and drape itself over Kuno''s chest, any and all pretense of mistrust and suspicion seemingly lost along with consciousness.

Kuno stared up at the ceiling, unsure of whether or not he should be trying to defend his macho masculinity by shoving Ranma off of him, but he felt no such immediate need. In an odd, non-biblical way, it felt strangely nice, sharing a bed in such the way he was doing. It was true that, at first, the boy had felt mildly disgusted by the fact that he would have to share his sleeping space with anyone, mind Saotome of all people, but it had grown on him. Like a rash.

And, like a rash, it was spreading. In this case, said rash was Ranma's arm, and it was most definitely southbound. Kuno squirmed in discomfort and, careful to not wake him, pushed Ranma's busy hand safely off his chest. Ranma's eyebrows furrowed in his sleep, and he drew his hand back close to himself. He let out a deep, somewhat discontented sigh, and he rolled over onto his other side, muttering something under his breath, which most definitely ended in "oga".

Kuno's mind subconsciously forced him to not make any sort of assumptions.

The kendoist rolled onto his side, his back against Ranma''s. His vision was now directed towards the sleeping Ryoga, who managed to look grievously worried, even whilst in the arms of sleep. Streams of moonlight made puddles on his hair and face, and it glowed softly against his skin. From Kuno's relatively close proximity to the lost boy, he could smell the faint wisps of campfire smoke and the unmistakable musk of leaves, trees, and dirt from the forests dotting Japan. Kuno inhaled deeply; it was a natural, almost soothing scent that would've reminded him of childhood memories of going camping if not for the fact he had never slept outdoors in his entire seventeen years of life. Ryoga shifted in his sleep, murmuring unintelligibly as he did so. The older boy closed his eyes, trying to settle against the pillow.

The futon was comfortably warmed by both his and Ranma's body, and it did beckon Kuno to sleep. He could practically feel the bags forming under his eyes - all that week, he had been suffering from his normal bouts of insomnia, however it was much more intense as of late, especially with the stress of the last few days. He sighed gently, the sound swallowed up by the dark and the mellifluous breathing of the two boys on either side of him. He could feel unconsciousness tugging at his mind, and Kuno was all too willing to give into it.

As soon as this happened, a chilling sensation ran through his spine, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. He felt suddenly trapped - he couldn't move his arms or his legs, and his breathing quickened accordingly. With his eyes closed it was completely and utterly dark; he felt himself scream, yet no sound spilled forth from his lips. His body was weighted down by something, crushing painfully against his chest and stomach, can't breath, can't breathe-!

His eyes shot open, and he took in a gulp of air, nearly choking on it. His hands shook beneath the covers, but the weight was now off of his body, and he could breathe, and that was all that mattered. Dully, he realized that he had been slowly falling into another one of his nightmares that felt all too real, and he sat up. The covers fell from his shoulders and chest, pooling around his waist. Immediately, he missed the warmth.

Sleep was not worth the horrible dreams that would entail it. Breathing out shakily, he ran his fingers through his mess of brown hair; he desperately wanted to lie back down on the cot and give into sleep and warmth, but he knew that, without fail, the horrid nightmares would follow. If the pattern were to hold true, he would probably wake up with bloodstains on himself, or gashes, or maybe he would unconsciously lash out at those in the room with him. He couldn't afford for that to happen, especially with the relatively thin line he was treading with everyone as it was.

Shivering, he pulled his yukata tightly around him - he refused to sleep anywhere near the nude with another man. Ranma, as it turned out, preferred to show skin, which didn't necessarily make Kuno uncomfortable, but… he figured it simply made sense. Ranma seemed the sort of person who wouldn't really care if one saw him naked or not, because what did he have to hide?

Kuno glanced down at Ranma, who shifted again in his sleep. He was wearing boxers, and the older boy supposed he ought to be thankful for that, or else he would have been creeped out to no end.

He gracefully and quietly slid out of the bed, standing to full height beside it. His form blocked some of the rays of moonlight, which now caressed his body rather than falling stagnant on to the tatami mats of the floor. His bare feet stepped softly on the ground, making his way over to the door; with equal pains taken to ensure the silent opening and closing of it, Kuno stepped out into a short, wooden hallway of the Tendo house. He walked down the corridor, his yukata swishing without sound at his calves, its dark blue colour blending in with the soft night.

Another turn left down the hall took Kuno into the Tendo living room and dining room; a TV, made opaque by the currently black screen, stared at him from the other side of the room, a few throw pillows put to good use by having been thrown somewhat haphazardly about the space of the floor. He stepped carefully around them, but managed nonetheless to trip over one of the pillows, causing him to swear under his breath, but luckily, the offending pillow did not cause the boy to fall flat on his face.

Recovering from his near-fall, Kuno squinted his eyes in the dark, his vision slowly becoming adjusted to it; looking ahead of him, he saw the entrance to the kitchen, marked so by the square cloth pieces hanging in its doorway. He treaded carefully as he walked forward, ducking slightly, the cloth brushing against his forehead as he did so.

The modest kitchen greeted him; the ghost scent of dinners past clung jealously to the air, wafting to Tatewaki's nose. He identified the strongest aroma as being of yakitori origin, and he felt his stomach somersault, then growl loudly - he suddenly remembered that he had not eaten in about a day or so, what with all that happened.

He debated within himself for but a moment whether or not it was socially acceptable to raid the refrigerator of the Tendo family at the ungodly hour of… 12:30? Kuno blinked at the clock on the wall. Surely it had to be much, much later; his body felt far too restlessly tired for it to only be 12:30 a.m.

He rubbed his eyes, and checked the clock above the sink once more. It still read 12:30. Kuno swore quietly again - it was going to be a very, very long night.

Ten minutes had passed, and Kuno found himself chewing mechanically on the reheated yakitori. Bite, chew, chew, chew… swallow. Repeat if necessary.

He glanced around the kitchen, his eyes roving over the various cutlery and baskets of fruit that littered the immediate area; he spied a coffee maker on the corner of the kitchen counter. Caffeine seemed a good enough stimulant as any, and from the small kitchen table he rose, making his way over to the coffee-making machine.

He found the tiny cartoon of a dancing coffee mug and the English letters spelling out "Mr. Coffee!" in bubble-white font to be morally offensive, but Kuno shrugged it off, because damn it, he wanted his coffee. And only after a great deal of searching though various cupboards and drawers, managing to have a skillet fall on his head in the process, did Kuno find the coffee grounds. Grumbling unintelligibly, he checked for a filter; upon finding one, he put the grounds in, and set the machine to work. He leaned against the counter, listening to it hum and whir. Mr. Coffee! stared back at him.

His eyes shifted up to the wall. 12:34.

Fuck.

It was then he decided that coffee would simply not be enough to keep him awake on this long, dreary night; another quick searched of the counter yielded a container disturbingly shaped like a cute little piggy full of sugar, its belly hollowed out to hold the white stuff. Kuno supposed it could be worse - after all, the vast amount of the kitchen appliances could be Hello Kitty.

There had to be something else, though… something to give his coffee a good kick. He went back over to the fridge to take a look - they had cola, some purple stuff, and… sake. Arching an eyebrow, Kuno pulled out the bottle of alcohol, and paused in thought.

Ping! Mr. Coffee! was done his labourious task of creating his namesake, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee killed the lingering smell of yakitori.

12:37. It couldn't hurt to have some wacky sake in his cup. Kuno also promised to punch himself if he were to ever use that phrase again.

Listening as the coffee drizzled leisurely into the pot, Kuno brought the sake with him over to the counter; he rummaged through the cupboards once more, and managed to find a teacup without extensive physical damage done to his person. He filled the small cup with sake, and took a drink; good quality, not too hard, but not too soft either, and rather smooth going down. Kuno was impressed - the Tendo father certainly knew his stuff, which really wasn't surprising, considering the man had the emotional stability of a depressed twelve year-old girl. Now, as for how the sake would taste in the coffee…

Back into the cupboard for a coffee mug, and back onto the counter to pour the hot liquid. Mr. Coffee! smiled happily at him, which continued to irk Kuno, but he said nothing, because yelling at a coffee pot at half-past midnight would be just ridiculous. He also scooped out a couple spoonfuls of sugar from the ceramic pig's concave pot-belly, stirring it into the coffee along with the rest of the sake in the teacup. Once it was satisfactorily mixed together, Kuno took a sip of it.

His face twitched, and he could feel his throat spasm as the pseudo coffee sludge made its way down, and he had to forcefully suppress his gagging reflex, which left his tongue dry and slightly burnt by the rather hot stuff.

Not half bad. Not half bad at all. Sure it stung his throat on the way down, and he had the distinct feeling that drinking needles and broken glass flavoured with Buckley's cough syrup would be more pleasant, but at least it was keeping him up.

Kuno sat down at the empty table, sipping at the mixture in his mug. The night was very still and quiet, save the occasional, far-away howl of a dog. In fact, Kuno wondered, perhaps if he thought too loudly, his musings would be heard by those sleeping in the house. The chair squeaked against the tile floor as he leaned back against it, bringing the cup to his lips once more.

The silence of the night didn''t seem to fit the Tendo home at all - if anything, this place was normally host to many a battle, challenge, wedding, break-in, Christmas party, etc. Always were these events heralded with noise, noise, noise - loud, crashing, booming, squealing, often violent sounds that let everyone in the immediate area know that something generally confusing was going on.

Funny, he thought, how all the confusion was so easily understood. Anarchistic fights and squabbles all made so much damn sense to the lot of them, and it was so "justified" on all sides. And even if he knew was wrong, if it was proven to him and to them, did it really make a difference?

Kuno took another sip of the coffee muddle. All the rivalries and love interests and enemies and friends (or lack thereof) could all blend together, and it was ridiculously, confusingly clear. Now that all those trivialities seemed so much less important, the clarity was damned confusing.

Considering giving up on the coffee sludge and just drinking straight alcohol as he usually would, Kuno sighed deeply, looking down into the cup, swirling the contents a bit. His reflection was made visible by the moonlight drifting in through the kitchen window.

"What's happening to me…?" he whispered to the dark pool of brown in his hands. He was generally used to never getting an answer, so when his reflection (logically) did not say anything in return, he didn''t feel let down. Much.

Soft noises interrupted the quiet of the kitchen and Kuno''s thoughts. He looked up, hearing the distinct sound of bare feet treading down the wooden hallway, obviously heading towards the very kitchen he was in. The footfalls were too heavy to belong to Nabiki or Kasumi, so any chance of slightly normal conversation was ruled out right there. All he could do was hope to Kami that it wasn't...

Ranma. Walking into the kitchen, obviously completely oblivious to the fact that he was in Kuno's presence. He ambled over to the fridge, opened it, grabbed the carton of milk, and closed the refrigerator door. Sleep still skirted his eyes, and Ranma didn't look to aware of all that he was doing as he fumbled with the milk carton, brought it to his lips, and took a very long, undignified gulp. A bit of milk drooled down the sides of his lips and, with a satisfied 'ahh', he tossed the now-empty milk carton into the nearby garbage, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Kuno blinked and Ranma rubbed at his eyes, yawning. He walked over to the table, his lids only half-open. Kuno's eyes widened a little as Ranma came closer to him, the younger boy still obviously not having noticed the other person just inches away from him. With a great sigh, Ranma flopped down onto the chair, which was occupied by Kuno.

The pigtailed boy was a little confused as to why the chair felt rather warm and bumpy beneath him. He shrugged it off, sleep still heavily ingrained within his mind. He sighed, and leaned further back in 'chair'.

Getting over the initial shock, Kuno was brought out of his stupour by the feel of Ranma's leg crushing down on his crotch, eliciting from him a yelp of pain.

Ranma's eyes shot open.

"Holy shit!" Ranma exclaimed, jumping up and rushing over to the other side of the kitchen, his back pressed against the wall, his breath heavy. Kuno winced slightly as he squirmed in his seat, re-adjusting himself nicely.

"Maybe you should watch where are sitting next time," he said simply, taking a long, heavy drink of his coffee, letting the sordid liquid wash down his throat. Ranma continued to breath shakily, his eyes remaining large.

"F… fuck…" Ranma stuttered, managing to catch his breath somewhat. "Shit, you scared me."

"Then I feel damned proud of myself," Kuno snipped back flatly. To this, Ranma sighed deeply, swallowing once, and ran a hand through his hair. It was silent for a moment.

"Yeah, w-well, you didn't scare me that bad," the black haired boy muttered finally, walking over to the table, looking a tad guarded. There was another chair beside him. Kuno smirked.

"Of course I did not, Ranma." Awkward silence once more as Kuno sipped at his coffee. Taking the mug away from his lips, Kuno arched an eyebrow, then looked up at Ranma. "Ranma, I am not going to bite you. Sit down." Ranma huffed, biting his lip.

"I'll sit down when I wanna sit down," Ranma said defiantly, crossing his arms.

Another pause.

"And that just happens to be now, and just 'cause I wanna, not 'cause you told me to." He sat down quickly, and Kuno sighed.

"Fine, whatever you wish," he said quietly, setting down his cup. "I made a pot of coffee if you would like some."

"Uh, sure. Thanks." Kuno got up to go over to the coffee pot, however Ranma, ever the impatient one, decided to reach across the table to have a little taste test of said coffee, and he took a generous gulp. For the second time that night in a span of mere minutes, his eyes widened, and his face turned a rather intriguing shade of green. He ran over to the sink, spitting it out.

"Geeze, that coffee tastes like crap!" he exclaimed, fumbling for a nearby glass to fill with water. He ran the tap, being very careful not to splash cold water on himself in the process; once it filled substantially enough, he downed it almost as quickly as he did the coffee, his face still screwed up in disgust.

"Ugh, what was in that??"

"Sake, and a liberal amount of sugar," Kuno said, pouring from the pot another mug full of coffee. Ranma made a face.

"Sugar and sake? Why?" The younger boy returned to the table, wiping at his mouth.

"Because it keeps me awake with its horrid taste. Usually I do not need it, but it comes in handy," Kuno explained, bringing the coffee mug over to Ranma. "Here. Put what you want in it." The martial artist mumbled a thanks as he looked into the coffee mug.

"I just like it black," Ranma said, taking a sip of it; the coffee had cooled down nicely, and the warm taste enveloped his tongue, allowing him to forget about the terrible stuff in Kuno's cup. He leaned back in the chair, expelling his breath gently, still feeling a little tired.

"So," Kuno started, looking down into his mug, "you realize that I cannot drink out of this, now that your mouth as been on it." Ranma blinked.

"So what if it has? C'mon, it ain't no big deal. 'Sjust spit."

"Yes, well, I have absolutely no intention of tasting your..." Kuno made a face, tipping the coffee mug slightly, "...spit."

"Well, that's your loss then." Ranma drank some more of his coffee, and looked at Kuno out of the corner of his eye. The older boy caught this look as he stood up once more, going over to the sink to dump the spoiled coffee out.

"What is it, Ranma?" he asked, rinsing the mug out with some water, "do you still think that I would be insane and cruel enough to kill my own family?" The question, needless to say, took Ranma by surprise, from both Kuno's tone and the directness of his query. His fingers tightened a little around the ceramic coffee cup in his hands.

"Kuno, I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did."

Ranma thought about this.

"Okay, so maybe I said something along those lines, but it was just a theory!" Ranma explained, doing his best to avoid any sort of committment-like answers. Kuno looked over his shoulder at the boy behind him.

"Just a theory?" He looked back to the sink. "I am sure." Ranma sighed irately, running his fingers through his hair.

"Kuno, listen. I just got worried 'bout everyone in the house, okay? I mean, put yourself in my shoes for a minute - if you were me and I were you, wouldn't you think it was weird that I was just wandering the streets at night drenched in blood?" Kuno went over to the coffee pot, pouring it to the brim of the mug, listening silently. Ranma continued on.

"A-And besides, you've been acting weird lately. Okay, well, weirder'n normal, and that takes alot to do," the pigtailed boy stated, drinking generously. Kuno debated whether or not he should leap in attack at Ranma for no apparent reason like he would usually do, but then realized that, according to the oh-so-helpful kitchen clock, it was just going on one o'clock in the morning. It wouldn't do to wake up his hosts.

"So if I were you and you were me," Kuno began, sitting back down on at the table, bringing with him the sake and sugar, "then the fact that your only family had just been kidnapped without a trace, and that you were acting odd because of it, would give me grounds to try to pin guilt on you, and subsequentially harm you, is that correct?" Ranma furrowed his eyebrows.

"No, that's not what I'm saying."

"It is what you did." He paused his conversation as he poured some sake into the coffee. "I believe the word you are looking for is 'sorry'."

"Yeah, right Kuno. I was doing what I thought was right," Ranma stated, leaning back in his chair.

"And what you did was not right. Therefore, I expect an apology."

"Hey, I ain't apolo-"

"Or you can help me to find my sister," Kuno added quietly, stirring in a few spoon's worth of sugar. Kuno sighed gently before taking a sip of the newly mixed coffee, feeling the liquid within the cup warm his cold fingers.

Ranma, still guarded in his posture, relaxed slightly. It was true that his 'theory' had been thrown out the window with the appearance and brief explanation of the German man who had appeared. Whatever was going on, it certainly went beyond the regular circle of Nerima's Wrecking Crew; deep down, Ranma knew that none of his rivals could ever be cruel enough to kidnap someone so...violently. He wanted to know who did it, and very much so at that - and then he wanted to kick their ass.

He nodded.

"Alright. I'll help you find Kodachi," Ranma said, his voice breaking the small silence. It certainly beat an apology. Kuno nodded his head, then looked up at Ranma.

"Thank you."

Ranma stared at Kuno in surprise. Did Kuno just thank him? He furrowed his eyebrows, sipping at his coffee; stranger things have happened, but... not alot was stranger than that. Ranma cleared his voice.

"You're, uh, welcome."

The boys drank their coffee in relative silence for the next hour or so, the quiet night surrounding the house as they did. Ranma realized, in a short moment of insight, that Kuno was being unusually non-aggressive; in most instances, the kendoist would be at his throat for some offense or the other.

He quietly drank his coffee, and glanced up at the less boisterous, rather contemplative-looking boy before him.

It was a surprisingly nice change of pace.

~*~*~*~

Holy crap. How long have I been gone for? o_O; In a stunning change of pace to my 1.5 fans out there, I'm really not dead. Yet. ^^ Huzzah!

I'm sorry this took so long. v_v School's been such a drag, and I've been in this sort of writing... funk. Weirdness. Also, apparently, I had an infraction with FF.net with something I uploaded twice. I did it a while ago, and completely forgot about it... apparently, someone reported me. I'd like to know who'd want to report something like that. O_o So I'm pretty bugged about that...

Anyhoot, I hope you enjoy Ch. 13 of Pandora! I swear more interesting stuff happens in the next chapters! XD

~Chibikat