CHAPTER 3

Winner Takes All

Ranma wasn’t sure what he expected to find when he opened his eyes.

But it definitely wasn’t this.

They were no longer in the Tendos’ tatami room. Instead, they were standing inside the parlor of a massive, ridiculously expensive-looking house. The style—not that he knew much about that kind of stuff—was definitely Victorian.

Ranma knew because he’d watched Akane assembling the paper house barely an hour ago.

The grand piano, the elaborate fireplace, hell, even the wallpaper was exactly the same. He’d seen every inch of this room before. Only smaller.

Somehow, impossibly…

They were inside the game.

“How—how is this even possible?”

Ranma glanced over his shoulder to find Ukyo kneeling on the floor, looking like she’d just reached the same horrifying conclusion. She stared around the room in bewilderment, her spatula lying a few feet away.

That’s when it hit him.

Akane!

His heart lurched as he whipped around, scanning the room frantically, every protective instinct he had slamming into overdrive. He knew he’d grabbed her hand after the final chime had struck—he remembered the feel of her fingers in his, remembered holding on.

He found her almost immediately.

She was sprawled near a small dining table and several overturned chairs, the white sweater beneath her burgundy dress drawing his eye immediately amid the room’s dark carpet and gilded walls.

He was beside her in seconds.

“Akane?” he asked quietly, bending over her, relief flooding through him when he saw she was breathing normally.

A moment later, her eyelids fluttered.

She blinked up at him, dazed and confused, slowly pushing herself upright.

Ranma stepped back to give her room and used the opportunity to take stock of the others.

Nabiki and Kasumi were clear across the parlor near a plush velvet chair beneath a glittering chandelier. Shampoo and Ryoga were slumped against the wall a few feet away, both beginning to stir.

Just what the hell was going on?

“Ranma,” Akane breathed, fear and awe woven through her voice as she took in their surroundings. “Where are we?”

“And please tell me we’re not inside that creepy paper house,” Ukyo added, clutching her spatula tightly, fully back in battle mode.

With nothing but wild guesses to work with, Ranma shrugged, trying not to sound half as freaked out as he felt. “Beats me,” he said.

Then, remembering what she’d been saying before everything went insane, he turned back to Akane. “But what were you talking about earlier? You said you found this game sitting on your bed?”

Akane still looked shaken, but she drew a steadying breath and forced herself to focus.

“That’s right,” she said, her eyes sharpening. “At first, I thought Shampoo or one of the others had sent it, so I shoved it in my wardrobe until I could make sure it was safe.”

“Humph.” Shampoo had joined them now along with the others. “Shampoo no need cheap tricks. Shampoo want Akane dead, Akane dead. Is simple.”

As much as Ranma hated how casually Shampoo spoke of killing Akane, somehow, he sensed she was telling the truth. So instead, he listened as Akane told them everything she remembered—her dream, the strange boy, and then waking up to find the box sitting on her bed.

At first, Ranma wanted to dismiss it as a coincidence.

Dreams were weird. People dreamed about strangers all the time.

Except they were standing inside a house that hadn’t existed an hour ago… a house that looked exactly like the one on their table back home.

The more Akane talked, the harder it became to ignore the growing knot of unease in his stomach.

“I still don’t know where the game came from,” she admitted, “but besides Happosai or Cologne, I don’t know who else would’ve left it, or why.”

Given the glowing runes, disappearing cards, and whatever the hell this place was, Ranma decided it was definitely magic related.

“No was Great-grandmother,” Shampoo declared. “Great-grandmother have no reason send Shampoo along. If Shampoo know about magic game, Shampoo send Akane and Ukyo through alone, then husband be happy and free.”

“Gee, thanks, Sugar,” Ukyo muttered.

“In any case, let’s not panic,” Kasumi said sweetly. “I have a strong suspicion the tofu I served at dinner may have expired. Perhaps this is nothing more than a terrible, indigestion-filled nightmare.”

“Sure, Kasumi,” Nabiki said dryly. “Let’s go with that.”

“In any case, don’t worry, Akane,” Ryoga announced, thumbing proudly at his chest. “I’ll protect you!”

Ranma immediately bristled.

Worse—he was annoyed that he was bristling over something this stupid.

“Protect her from what, numbskull? This place isn’t exactly Kiso Valley.”

“You know,” came a voice from across the room, “I did consider a forest. Moonlight through dead branches. Endless trails. Just enough fog to destroy morale.” He paused, seemingly weighing the idea again. “But ultimately… I preferred chandeliers.”

Everyone turned toward the speaker at once.

Kasumi’s startled gasp filled the room. “You—you’re that boy! The one on the card!”

“The Shadow Prince,” Ukyo breathed, sounding both awed and disbelieving.

“I prefer Kieran,” he replied smoothly, “but Shadow Prince does have a certain charm, doesn’t it?”

Ranma observed their host through narrowed, suspicious eyes.

So, this was Akane’s weird dream-dude, huh?

He wasn’t impressed.

He was kinda scrawny, for one thing, and his hair was so white it looked like volcanic ash. And, okay, sure—his eyes were a shade of blue Ranma had never seen before. Weirdly bright, too.

But so what?

This guy was nothing special. He didn’t even have wings.

“I don’t care what your name is,” Ranma said, getting straight to the point. “What the hell are we doing here?”

For once, Ryoga found himself agreeing. “Yeah! Where the hell are we?”

Kieran tilted his head slightly, as though the answer should’ve been obvious. “You’re in the game,” he said slowly, like he was explaining something painfully simple to a child. “I believe the instructions made that clear?”

Ukyo barked out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Is that so?” she shot back. “Because I’m pretty sure if the instructions had said we’d be transported to some bizarre nightmare world and forced to play for real, I’d remember!”

Kieran’s intense blue gaze narrowed on her.

The shift was subtle—but sharp enough that Ukyo unconsciously flinched, taking a small step backward.

“You invoked the rune of Ehwaz,” he said evenly before letting his gaze sweep across the room. “If you failed to heed the warning, or simply didn’t understand what you were dealing with, then you never should’ve agreed to play in the first place. You all took the oath willingly.”

“Well, yeah,” Ranma snapped, already irritated by the guy’s patronizing tone. “But we didn’t know it was real.”

“Really?”

Before anyone could respond, the instruction manual appeared in Kieran’s hands out of nowhere.

Opening it calmly, Kieran began reading aloud.

“By invoking Ehwaz, I agree to enter the Shadow Realm willingly, to acknowledge that the game is real, that it is dangerous, and that I knowingly enter at my own risk.”

When he finished, he lowered the booklet and looked directly at Ranma, one pale eyebrow raised.

“Clear enough for you?”

Ranma looked completely blindsided.

Unfortunately for Nabiki, everyone immediately turned to glare at her instead. “What?” she defended coolly. “So I paraphrased a little. Big deal.”

“A little?!” Ukyo repeated tightly. “You left out all of it!”

“Oh, please.” Nabiki rolled her eyes. “You all would’ve agreed to play whether I’d read the whole dramatic speech or not. Don’t kid yourselves.”

Ranma hated to admit it, but she was probably right.

Akane had tried to warn them.

She’d insisted something about the game felt wrong, but instead of listening, they’d brushed her off, teased her, and worn her down until she’d finally given in.

Knowing the full oath would’ve changed exactly one thing.

They would’ve said yes faster.

Kasumi stepped smoothly into the conversation, once again assuming the role of reluctant diplomat. “I’m afraid this has all been some terrible misunderstanding,” she said politely. “So, if it’s all the same to you, I believe we’d all prefer not to play.”

Kieran smiled. “Sure. That’s fine.” Unfortunately, there was something distinctly predatory about it. “If you’d like to waive your right to participate, simply leave my prize and be on your way.”

“Your prize?” Ryoga repeated blankly.

Then it clicked.

“Look, pal,” Ranma said, his expression darkening immediately. “None of us are giving you our souls or firstborn kids, so forget it!”

“That’s good,” Kieran replied smoothly, “because I have no use for such trifles. I have something else in mind.”

His attention slid past the group, settling on the one person who had gone strangely quiet since his appearance.

Akane.

Ranma’s gaze snapped back and forth between the Shadow Prince and his fiancée. The realization landed in his stomach like a heavy, jagged stone.

“No.”

The word slipped out before he even realized he’d said it.

“Every game has a prize,” Kieran said quietly, never taking his eyes off Akane. “Winner takes all.”

A surge of anger shot through Ranma.

Before Akane could even react, he stepped between them, planting himself squarely in Kieran’s line of sight and blocking the jerk’s view of her. Without a word, Ryoga moved to Akane’s other side, protectively flanking her.

Ranma’s dark eyes narrowed dangerously.

Beside him, Akane had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since Kieran appeared. Now, finally, she stirred.

“Prize?” she muttered under her breath.

Her voice trembled, but the boys were too busy glaring at Kieran to pay much attention.

“Or what?” Kieran asked mockingly. “You’re going to hit me?”

Ranma grinned, cracking his knuckles. “Only if you insist.”

Unfortunately for him, he never got the chance.

“Wait just a second!”

Akane shoved him aside hard enough to make him stumble.

Ranma blinked.

Her eyes were locked on Kieran now, burning with indignation. “I never agreed to anything like that!” she snapped. “Yes, I agreed to the oath, but the rules never said anything about being some kind of prize!”

“You tell him, sis!” Nabiki cheered.

“And even if they had,” she continued, “there’s no way I’d agree to something so ridiculous!”

Something unexpected softened Kieran’s expression. It wasn’t amusement or irritation, but something quieter.

“There you are,” he murmured. “Just as beautiful as I remember.”

Ranma’s stomach tightened.

He knew her?

Akane seemed thrown off by it too. For a moment, she simply stared at him.

Kieran smiled softly. “It’s no surprise you don’t remember. We met a very long time ago.” His gaze drifted for the briefest instant, as though pulled toward a distant memory. “But that’s a story for another time.”

“I’ve got nothing but time,” Ranma said scathingly.

“You really don’t.” Kieran straightened. “You all agreed to play the game. Since this is my world, you’ll play by my rules. And the rules are simple.”

Kieran let the words hang in the silence before his gaze settled on Akane once more.

“Give me Akane, and you’re all free to leave.”  His eyes glinted dangerously. “Otherwise… prepare to play.”

A tense silence settled over the parlor.

“Are you sure I couldn’t interest you in playing for a delicious home-cooked meal instead?” Kasumi offered hopefully.

“Really, Kasumi,” Nabiki sighed, burying her face in embarrassment on her sister’s behalf.

“We vote now, yes?” Shampoo announced, apparently deciding someone needed to move things along. “All those wanting give Akane to Shadow Guy, raise hands.”

Her hand shot into the air immediately.

Across the room, Ukyo bit her lip, visibly torn between basic human decency and the temptation of removing a rival.

The turnout clearly failed to impress Shampoo.

Leaning toward Nabiki, she whispered something quickly into her ear. A second later, Nabiki’s hand went up too.

“Nabiki!” Several voices shouted at once—one of them, remarkably enough, Kasumi’s.

“What?” Nabiki challenged, looking only mildly guilty. “Come on. We all know this ends with Ranma rescuing her anyway. If I can make a little yen off the situation, where’s the harm?”

The horrified looks aimed her way apparently outweighed her financial optimism. With a reluctant sigh, she lowered her arm.

“Fine. Forget it. We were in the minority anyway.”

“Then it looks like we play,” Kieran said smoothly, a sly smile tugging at his mouth.

Ranma didn’t trust that smile. Not even a little.

“Same rules apply. You have until the clock strikes ten to face all your nightmares and reach the attic. If you succeed, you’re free to go.”

Kieran’s gaze drifted past him and landed on Akane.

“But if you fail…” A faint smile curved his lips. “I win, and Akane stays here with me.”

“Yeah. That’s not happening,” Ranma said flatly. Rolling his neck, he settled into a fighting stance. “You overlooked one little detail.” A cocky grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “If I beat the crap outta you right now, you won’t be making it to the attic.”

“Handy little loophole, that,” Ryoga agreed, cracking his knuckles as he moved up alongside him.

“Told you this would happen,” Nabiki muttered. “Somebody owes me ten thousand yen.”

For once, Ranma and Ryoga actually seemed united in purpose.

Unfortunately, neither of them made it more than a few steps before the mansion’s grandfather clock erupted into a thunderous chime.

The sound rolled through the parlor and echoed down the endless halls, and before anyone could react, brilliant light exploded around them.

Ranma threw up an arm against the glare, but it didn’t help.

The light swallowed everything—the walls, the furniture, the people around him—until the entire room vanished into a sea of white.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

Ranma lowered his arm. “What the hell…?”

The parlor was nearly empty.

Several feet behind him, Akane stood staring at the place where Kasumi and Nabiki had been only moments before.

Ranma’s gaze swept the room.

No Ryoga. No Ukyo. No Shampoo. Just him, Akane, and—

His eyes narrowed.

Kieran.

Akane’s head snapped toward their host, her hazel eyes blazing. “What did you do with them?!”

Kieran released a long, patient sigh. “Like I told you before,” he said bluntly, “they’re in the game. I offered you the easy way out, but you chose to play.”

Ranma hated how matter-of-fact he sounded.

Forcing the anger aside, he focused on the more immediate problem.

“So it’s started, then,” Ranma said, narrowing his eyes. “Your stupid, messed-up game?”

Kieran simply smiled at the insult.

“That’s right. Right now, they’re scattered throughout this house. Until Akane finds them, that is.”

“Me?” Akane repeated in disbelief.

Ranma’s frown deepened.

There it was again. Every answer, every condition, every road somehow led back to Akane.

Not happening.

“Fine by me,” Ranma said, stepping forward. “Soon as I pound your arrogant ass into the floor, we’ll find that lame attic and be on our way.”

Kieran hadn’t moved a muscle. “I highly doubt that.”

Turning toward Akane, Ranma cracked his knuckles. “Don’t worry, Akane. This’ll take two seconds.”

Akane folded her arms. “I’ll be counting.”

Ranma smirked and took a confident step toward Kieran.

Before his foot could touch the floor, a faint sound drifted through the parlor. It started as little more than a distant chorus, but it grew louder with every passing second until recognition hit him like a punch.

Cats.

Mewling.

Ranma’s blood ran cold, his ponytail snapping straight into the air as he stumbled backward, desperately searching for the source. The sound was everywhere now, echoing through the parlor from every direction at once.

Then he saw them.

They seemed to materialize out of thin air. One moment the room was empty. The next, dozens of cats surrounded him, circling in tightening rings with tails held high, backs arched, and fur bristling as low growls and angry hisses filled the air.

They kept closing in, their eyes gleaming in the dim light as their claws scraped softly across the floor. These weren’t house cats. They were hunters. Hungry. Angry. And looking at him like he was dinner.

“G-go away!” Ranma stammered, wildly waving an arm as he tried to drive them back.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the game. Not the mansion. Not even Kieran.

Only survival.

Then something brushed against his arm.

Ranma froze.

His gaze dropped to find a length of fish sausage wrapped around his forearm. For one bewildered second, his panicked mind refused to make sense of it. Then he noticed another looped around his waist, another binding his legs, another stretched across his chest.

His breath caught.

The cats never stopped circling. Their growls reverberated through the parlor as the nightmare crashed into place with sickening clarity.

The fish sausage.

The cats.

“Ranma, are you alright?”

The voice sounded distant, muffled, as though it were coming from the other end of a long tunnel.

“Dummy! Snap out of it!”

Color drained from his face.

“N-no,” he whispered hoarsely, stumbling backward. “N-not again…”

The terror in his eyes was so complete that, for the first time since entering the mansion, Ranma no longer seemed to recognize where he was.

Whatever he was seeing, it wasn’t the parlor anymore. He might as well be back in the pit.

***

Akane frowned.

She couldn’t see whatever it was Ranma was seeing, but something was very, very wrong. His face had gone deathly pale. His eyes were wide with sheer panic, fixed on something that wasn’t there.

“Ranma?”

He didn’t seem to hear her.

His gaze darted wildly around the room while his hands clawed frantically at his arms and chest, as though trying to tear something off his body.

Fear coiled in Akane’s stomach.

“Ranma, are you alright?” Fear sharpened her voice harsher than she’d intended. “Dummy! Snap out of it!”

Usually, a taunt like that would’ve earned her an automatic comeback. This time—nothing. Ranma collapsed hard against the wall and slid to the floor, kicking wildly at some invisible enemy.

And suddenly—it clicked.

Cats.

Only cats could reduce Ranma to this state.

“Honestly,” Akane muttered, hurrying toward him—only to have Kieran step directly into her path.

“I think you’ve seen enough.”

Before she could react—Ranma vanished.

No flash. No warning this time.

One minute he was there, the next, gone.

Akane stumbled backward a step, the crushing reality of being suddenly, completely alone hitting her all at once.

“W-what did you do with him?” she demanded, masking her fear with anger. “You said we’d get to face our nightmares, but you didn’t even give him a chance!”

“And why would I?” he asked, tilting his head curiously. “That wasn’t his nightmare. Merely a demonstration.”

Akane stared at him, struggling to make sense of what he’d just said.

“Look,” she said slowly, as though speaking more carefully might somehow help him understand, “we all know Ranma’s terrified of cats. He didn’t lie.”

Kieran regarded her with the same patient expression one might reserve for a particularly stubborn child. “Fear and truth aren’t always the same thing, Akane,” he said gently. “He’ll be waiting for you in the attic. You’ll see him again when you reach the top.”

Akane’s temper flared instantly. “Are you even listening to me?” she snapped. “Who are you to decide whether what we drew was real or not? You don’t even know us!”

“I know everything about you.”

The quiet certainty in his voice stopped her cold. There wasn’t a trace of arrogance or mockery in his expression, only an unsettling sincerity that made his words impossible to dismiss.

“I’ve been watching you for a very long time, Akane.”

A chill crawled down her spine, and she found herself taking another involuntary step backward.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded, abandoning her argument altogether. “I don’t understand. Why me?”

“Because,” he said simply, “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Akane let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

“Love me?” she repeated incredulously. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you’re in love with that buffoon, even though he doesn’t deserve you,” Kieran replied, taking a slow step toward her. “I know you’re quick to anger, but just as quick to forgive. I know your family means more to you than anything else, and that you’d walk through fire for the people you love.”

He continued to close the distance between them, each measured step forcing Akane back.

“I know you’re passionate, stubborn, and kind,” he said, his voice as calm as ever. “And I know that by the time this game is over, you’ll have no choice but to choose me.”

Akane’s stomach twisted. “I’d die first.”

His smile only deepened.

“The oath exists for a reason, Akane.” His smile faded, replaced by a rare solemnness. “This world is ugly and dangerous. Someone will die today, but it won’t be you.” The certainty with which he said it settled over the room like a weight. “Wouldn’t you rather spare yourself the tears… the guilt…” He tilted his head slightly. “And come to me now?”

Akane held his gaze for exactly one second longer before deciding she was done indulging whatever insane fantasy he was living in.

“You said there’s a time limit?” she asked, her voice turning deliberately brisk. “Because I’d like to get started, if it’s all the same to you.”

If anything, his smile widened.

“Alright, then.” Stepping back at last, he folded his hands behind his back. “I’ll even leave you with a little parting gift. Something to think about while you play.”

Akane didn’t trust that smile. Not one bit.

He began to recite:

I am lighter than a feather’s fall

Yet linger longest of them all

I ask no vow and bear no chain,

Yet joy and sorrow speak my name.

Born of laughter, grief, or bliss.

Answer not with words, but this.

Akane frowned. “You’re seriously making me solve a riddle?”

“There’s no hurry,” he said. “The next time we meet, give me the answer… and I’ll let one of your friends go.”

His gaze lingered on her a moment longer before he repeated the exact words he’d left her with in her dream.

“See you soon, Akane.”

And just like the others before, he was gone.

END OF CHAPTER 3