On Mon, 5 Apr 1999, Hallstrom Consultants wrote:
Waiigh.
Remember me?
No, didn't think so.
The months of February and March have turned out to be entirely more awful
than
I feel was strictly warrented. Nonetheless. Despite funerals, expenses,
disarangment,
hard-drive destruction and Mires of Despond, I have persevered.
Sort of.
But not entirely.
I haven't been able to take the time to read my mail for the last month.
Two weeks of which may or may not be salvagable from a trashed piece-of-@@##$
Micropolis HDD I used to have.
So, if you've written to me, and I haven't written back, this is why.
You have my simplethies...
This is RAALS part 5A ... 1 of 2.
2 of 2 will take a little longer.
Next week I go out of town on Spring Break, like it or not.
And I don't.
We shall see if this gives me enough free time to finish part 2 of 2, or not.
In other news, I have revamped my homepage at Mindspring:
http://www.mindspring.com/~hallcon/
and added a new one at XOOM:
http://members.xoom.com/RandA_ALS/
You may ask: why?
The answer is: MP3s.
Wai!
Yes, folks, now, and possibly for a limited time only, you too can download
the _actual music_ that I write this stuff to.:)
Waiwai!
See, I _told_ you I was stranger than you thought.
It's all 96 kbps MP3 format, and there are megs of it.
I've got 128 kbps format at home, here, but I'm not going to upload.
Ask if you want me to mail you a copy, and prepare for a _full_ mailbox.
As always, C&C is lived, died, begged, and written for.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------
Disclaimer: The playground is by Rumiko Takahashi, I'm only swinging on
the monkey bars. Remember to leave the grounds cleaner than you found
them and please don't feed the Troll.
I think he starved...
*Summer Lightning* and "Thanksgiving Eve" are copyrighted by Garnet
Rogers; if you haven't encountered him before go out and buy his CDs,
he sings lots better than I write.
"The Haughs of Cromdale" is a Traditional Scottish Melody.
This story is archived at http://www.mindspring.com/~hallcon/R&A-ALS.htm
and at http://members.xoom.com/RandA_ALS/R&A-ALS.htm
See these sites to find links to MP3's of these, and other relevant songs
as well.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ranma and Akane: A Love Story
Chapter 5: The End of the Beginning
Part A: An Unexpected Party
------------------------------------------------------------------------
There are certain ways that things are supposed to go. Take, for
instance, the case of waking up in someone else's bed. This is _supposed_
to involve long drowsy dalliances and breakfast in situ, served by
dedicated servants. Or, alternatively, a sense of romantic melodrama may
easily be obtained by hasty dressing and tearful, secretive goodbyes.
When, on the other hand, the other whose bed you are waking up in is
an Other whom no-one, including the other, may be allowed to suspect
_is_ the Other then things are supposed to be managed for maximum
embarrassment for all involved. (Yes, it _is_ a complex sentence. Read
it through a couple times, it means what it says.) Fortunately for
Ranma, the sensation of Akane breathing into her ear woke her alone and
unobserved.
This precipitated what should have been the type of convulsive jerk
that knocks over the bed, wakes the bed-mate, calls the attention of
the house, and otherwise results in complete higgelty-piggelty. Alas
for the devotees of the Right and Proper Order of Things, however,
Ranma's well-honed reflexes and hard-wired skills were in full working
order; and she removed herself from complete (if, sadly, clothed)
entanglement in Akane's embrace to a position standing upright in the
middle of the room without much more than a mild heart attack.
Boo, hiss.
This should not, however, be construed as to mean that the forces
of Dramatic Righteousness were entirely cheated of their due. The human
body is a complex collection of muscles, bone, nerves, joints, ligaments,
and other such items. Ranma's collection chose that moment to send
her a wide array of bitterly-complaining messages, relaying their utter
dissatisfaction with her current state and accusing her of criminal
incompetence at the top. She also noted the pounding pain of a massive
migraine headache, foretelling an impressive hang-over.
Action was clearly called for, and she exerted her trained will and
knowledge of Magic and martial lore, pushing back the pain and stiffness,
and adjusting a wide range of inner balances. A long soak in a hot
bath and some serious reconstructive meditation was clearly called for.
It would be a good idea to wake Akane, however. Particularly since,
unless she was seriously mistaken, Akane's lingering effects of the
day's adventures would be even more extreme than her own.
Ranma felt a renewed pang of grief shoot through her as she took
in Akane's profile, following the new lines of scars that spread out in
a web around her left eye, easily visible as she lay on her right side.
She locked the sensation deeply inside, however; even if revealing
the extent of her sorrow were not far too dangerous to the carefully
constructed masquerade she must now live, it was horribly disrespectful
to Akane. She had, after all, followed along of her own free will, and
must be regarded as a warrior capable of knowing her own honor and what
it demanded.
Honorable action required what it required, after all, and cost what
it cost. Had she, herself, not born up under wounds as great? To rail
against the necessary costs of one's actions was to cheapen them, and
to cheapen Akane was a thing which she could never do.
Akane's slumber proved more than a match for Ranma's somewhat lessened
resources, and Ranma finally decided simply to let her sleep. Summoning
her ferocious will and inexhaustible endurance, she strode out the
door and down the stairs towards the furo and a long, hot soak with all
the grace and power of an octogenarian tortoise.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nabiki was of the opinion that a long soak could only improve an
issue, and had indulged in one to the fullest extent possible after
informing Kasumi and Soun of events. After finishing her bath, she was
inclined to talk over a few things with Kasumi, just to make sure that
they were both on the same page as regards her dear little sister's
idiocy and its probable cause. A moment's hesitation alerted her to an
approaching spectacle however, and she silently slipped around a corner
to await it.
The spectacle in question did not disappoint. Ranma, jacket-less,
unscarved and carrying her shirt in her hand, limped vaguely down the
stairs and into the furo. Briefly, Nabiki exerted her control and forbade
herself to make any noise. She had heard from her rumor sources that
Ranma was scarred beneath her usual enveloping clothes, but she had not
expected.... And _some_ of those scars were not old; were not fine, white
lines but rather angry, red welts.
Nabiki felt her eyes fill, briefly, with tears. She would have to
remember this sight, she thought, whenever she doubted her sister's lover.
Ranma might be overly heroic and possessed of something resembling a
death-wish, but there could be no doubt that she knew the cost of the
actions she took. In some ways, she mused, Ranma must be very like herself;
must, at all times, have one eye on the cost. Shaking her head she turned
from the closing door and went to talk to Kasumi.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
She woke up. This, she decided, was her first mistake. She was not
immediately sure what had awakened her, but she _was_ immediately sure
that she wished it hadn't bothered. Her hair hurt. And that was not even
considering the mad kamikaze air molecules that were attempting to flay
her skin off. Now that she whimpered it, how _had_ those tribes of mad,
jack-hammer wielding dwarves gotten inside her skull, anyway? And what
had she done to piss them off so badly? Couldn't they have written her a,
a letter or something? She'd have apologized, really.
The Morning After the Night Before. It's a killer.
Also, she really had to talk to someone about putting dead rats in her
mouth. It just wasn't civilized, and whoever had done it ought to have
known better. She tried to summon up a sense of righteous outage, but all
she could manage was a dull throb, and it immediately got lost in all
the other aches and pains.
Heh.
Attempting to discern where, exactly, she was, she opened her eyes.
Mistake number two, instantly taken advantage of by the roving hordes
of photon nomadic warriors, which used the opening in her defenses to
invade down her optic nerves in a howling wave and set her brain on fire.
Heh (x2).
Attempting to quench the flames, she curled into a foetal ball and
threw her arms around her head. Mistake number three. It was really
fascinating, she thought distantly, that a sufficient amount of adverse
sensory stimuli could not only induce unconsciousness, but could immediately
negate it. Well, she had obviously screwed up _somewhere_, big-time. Now
the question was: where was Ranchan when you really needed her?
Ranma. Didn't she have a vague memory of Ranma saying something?
Something ... about ... about ... getting up? ... and going ... to the
furo. Or she'd stiffen up.... Ah.... So that was it. Well, she could
see that the rest of the day promised to be unpleasant. Yep. But she had
a plan to outwit it. Just as soon as she took her bath and got a little
control back, she was going to die. Yep. That'd show it. You bet.
Now all she had to do was, get to the furo. Which involved ... taking
off her clothes ... and going ... all the way down the stairs. Oh dear.
Indeed.
Shortly, a shambling figure tackled the complex challenge of walking
down a flight of stairs without toppling over. It's progress was not
eased by its apparent difficulty with the dim hallway light, which was
causing it to move in a series of flinches. Exerting supreme self-control,
it avoided a lunging attempt to descend the stairs and achieve the
door of the furo in a single moment, outracing light itself. Which was
a good thing, really, because the photons hanging around were already
sufficiently annoyed, and the figure was in enough trouble as it was.
Stumbling down the last stair risers and shuffling down the hall, the
figure had nearly attained its hoped-for sanctuary when fate cruelly
intervened. A firm, decisive footstep was heard, and Tendo Soun rounded
the corner of the hall and came face-to-face with his daughter. And, for
a brief moment, nothing happened. Then Akane feebly attempted to placate
the looming disaster by waving her hands at her father, and whimpering.
Alas, in vain; slowly started but rapidly rising then came the vessel of
ultimate horror (at least to anyone with a killing hangover), a full,
all-out Soun Tendo Wail. (#2516: My daughter went to Hell and lost her eye,
now she'll never get a husband and I'll be alone in my old age, aiieeee!)
The noise went through Akane's already shot nerves like a buzzsaw and
she collapsed to the floor in a foetal ball. Naked and dripping from the
tub, Ranma was at her side two seconds later. Knelling at Akane's side,
Ranma gently coaxed her out of her curled up misery, leveling a glare
at Soun that sent that worthy backwards in a dead faint.
Nabiki, drawn by the *thud* of Akane impacting the floor, managed a gasp
before Ranma cut her off. "Nabiki-san, please ask Kasumi-san to get Acchan
a glass of hangover cure, I believe that she knows one or two." Smoothly,
Ranma picked Akane up and took her into the furo. Nabiki gaped briefly at
the closing door before running back to fetch Kasumi.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Timidly, Kasumi knocked on the door to the bath. "Ranma-san, may I come
in?"
"Please do."
Kasumi carried the large glass into the furo, and likewise restrained a
gasp. It was bad enough to see such extensive scars on Ranma-san, reminding
her of the cost demanded of those who walk Bushido. But to see such scars in
turn on the smooth flesh of her younger sister; that was almost more than
she could stand. Akane was huddled against the edge of the tub, with her
face turned down and her eyes shut as Ranma gently probed her acupuncture
and shiatsu spots from behind. At Kasumi's approach, Ranma leaned back in
the tub, and Akane turned around, looking up at Kasumi in thankfulness and
reaching out for the glass she was carrying.
Seeing the new web of faint scars around her sister's eye and the changed
nature of the orb itself caused Kasumi to fall to her knees, extending the
glass with shaking hand. Akane almost snatched the glass away from her,
and drained it with a single, long pull before putting it to the side and
coming up partially out of the tub to gather Kasumi into her arms and hug
her fiercely.
"Kasumi! Kasumi-oneechan, it's all right. It _looks_ awful but the eye
still works just fine."
Ranma raised an eyebrow and dryly said, "I say again, it looks _rakish_.
Not awful, _rakish_."
Kasumi made a mighty effort and came back on balance. "I don't want to
contradict you, Ranma-san, but I'm afraid it does look awful. Just a
little."
Akane released her hug and turned back toward Ranma, sticking out her
tongue, "See? I _told_ you so!"
Ranma settled back in the tub and spread her arms along the rim, "Acchan,
look this way. Now raise your left eyebrow. No, a little higher. Yeah, like
that. Now show Kasumi-san." A short pause. "See? Rakish."
Akane sighed and stood up, saying, "Please excuse me, Neechan, I have to
kill ..." as she reached her full height she paused, her eyes going wide
in shock as an alarming cracking sound made itself known, "... er, that is.
I have to get right back in the tub here and have Ranchan do some more
shiatsu on me. Yeah, that's it."
Ranma sighed, "Doesn't listen. Overexerts. Rushes in where angels fear
to tread. Domineering. And now she wants shiatsu, too. Oh dear. What a
pity. Never mind." Winking at Kasumi's mildly alarmed look, Ranma slid
forward in the tub to kneel behind Akane.
Akane looked up, alarmed, "Ranchan! I need ... ooooh!" As Ranma's hand
reached the first shiatsu spot, Akane's eyes slitted in relief, the left
flashing a solid gold.
For some reason I keep getting this image in my head... Akane out & about,
wearing sunglasses to avoid scaring the natives, when a big jock (aprox IQ
of a stunned herring) comes up &...
Big Dumb Jock: Hey chickie - what've you got under those glasses? (Pulls
sunglasses off)
Akane: (Just looks at him)
<pause>
BDJ carefully replaces the sunglasses, so as not to muss a single hair,
then...
BDJ: (Dopplered while running away) Aaaaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhh.....!
<insert stock 'car peeling out' SoundFX here...>
Kasumi smiled slightly and silently slipped out.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Ranma-san! I will not permit you to run off without dinner. It is
getting late and you _must_ be tired, you should eat with us and sleep in
the guest room tonight."
Ranma blinked, backing away from Kasumi and frantically waving her hands,
"Ahhh ... of course, Kasumi-san, whatever you say. I'll just go into the
Dojo and, ahh, maintain my equipment, yes?" Grabbing a confused and yakuta-
clad Akane by the shoulder, Ranma hastily retreated from the main house to
the Dojo.
"Geeze! Your sister is _scary_ when she's like that!" Ranma peeked
cautiously around the edge of the Dojo door. "Anyway, I'm serious, Acchan,
you need to go get your stuff and get it back in order right now, before
you forget and then don't have it next time."
Akane nodded muzzily and wandered out of the Dojo and back upstairs.
Ranma occupied herself with seeing to the good condition of her weapons,
being occupied with cleaning the barrel of the Desert Eagle when Akane
timidly reappeared, holding a sword in an ill-fitting scabbard away from
her body with obvious reluctance. "Ranchan?"
Ranma looked up and raised an eyebrow. "This sword," Akane continued,
"it's not my sword. And I don't have _any_ of the other stuff and I've
never seen this sword before ... I don't even know what _kind_ of sword
it is ...."
Ranma stood up and gingerly took the sword away, laying it flat on the
portable table she was using to hold her cleaning gear. "Taiken. It's a
taiken." She withdrew the sword from its scabbard and turned it over and
around in her hands. It was slightly longer than a katana, straight bladed
and double-edged, but still chisel-pointed. It was made of a dull, gray
steel, better polished in the middle of the blade, which sank into a
blood-groove accented by the yakiba-mon, the wavy pattern that indicates the
different steel composition used in the edge of a blade.
It was elaborately hilted in black, non-reflective steel, a two-handed,
wire-wrapped grip rising from a heavy thorn pommel to a wide crossbar that
flared out into hilt-loops to protect its wielder's fingers as they might
be looped over the hilt. The side-bars of the hilt flared out into an
almost-basket that provided a fair amount of protection to the upper hand
of a wielder, and even a casual inspection woke amazement at the
magnificent balance and liveliness of the cold, gray steel. "It's a _good_
taiken."
Ranma withdrew a small tool from jacket-space and placed the blade on the
table, beginning to disassemble its hilt. "These are usually tang-marked ...
like ... so ...." her voice faded off into a long whistle. Akane drew
closer and leaned forward to see, but could not read the strange, curling
letters. Ranma held the blade up to the light and read something off the
tang in a language that Akane likewise did not know. Indicating this with
a slant of her eyebrow, Akane caused Ranma to flush briefly and then
translate aloud into Japanese, "'Forged was I, of iron heaven born. Ulean
made me. I am Isileth.'"
"How, ah... how did you manage to pick this up, anyway, Acchan? I saw
you waving it around when you, ah, came to get me, but ..." Ranma slowly
and cooly put the hilt back together.
Akane stammered something inane about how she had needed a sword and
it had just been lying there and she'd just put her hand on it, and...
Ranma shook her head sadly. "Outnumbered. Injured. Back to the wall.
And you 'just happen' to put your hand onto Isileth Widow-maker. Give it
up, girl. You are _so_ doomed." Then, suddenly, she grinned, "But at least
being around you won't be _boring_. I hate _boring_," she winked.
Yup. Just _happened_ to grab one of the best swords in the multiverse,
*right* when she needed it...
I smell Fate here...
^
Akane grinned weakly and blushed. Then she indicated the sword still
lying on the table. "Ummm ... you seem to know it ... her? What's the
story?"
"It starts a couple millennia back and about a dozen universes ... _that_
way. The land is called Alba and it has a number of similarities to Tokugawa
era Japan. For samurai say 'kailin-eir', for katana say 'taiken'. I had heard
a rumor that there was an Art called Taiken-ulleth involving 'perfect
swordsmanship', and that there was a master left living in Alba. So I
used the amulet to go look about a year or so back, but I never found him.
Along the way I picked up a fair bit of kailinin lore, one bit of which was
the story of the 'most perfect sword', Isileth.
"Made from 'star-metal' from a fallen meteorite, refolded three hundred
times, too tough to bend, too strong to break, an edge that was sharpened
once and hasn't dulled since, quenched in blood, polished by fire and water.
Used by heroes and villains for two thousand years or more. Rumored to be
evil black as the pit of night, rumored to be good bright as the sun itself.
Rumored to be neither one, but nothing more than, simply, a sword. What she
was doing on a slope just outside of Hell I've no idea. Here," she handed
the sword-hilt to Akane, "do a kata or two and get to know her. Maybe she'll
tell you."
Akane took the sword silently and stood, momentarily at a loss, as Ranma
took up the ill-fitting scabbard and began preparations to modify it to
properly receive its new resident. After a minute or so she shook her head
dazedly and turned back to the center of the Dojo, moving with a slight
wince for abused muscles and joints and focusing inward, preparing a
pain-blocking mantra to aid her concentration. Then she pressed the sword's
blade to her forehead in salute and sank into the slight trance she used
to invoke Othersight. Instead of focusing it on anything, she deliberately
defocused it and began a basic sword kata, extending a welcome to any
insights the blade might offer.
<snip kata>
Wow. I got some _really_ interesting images in my head from _that_...
Akane's room was dark and still in night's embrace. Akane, however, was
not. Shadowy dreams of loss and pain lurked just beyond the border of the
waking world, and a pit of darkness vast enough to suck her down forever
awaited her least little lowering of defense. This she knew. What she did
not know was how to fight the encroaching dark. If she could only find
a target, something to hit with her fist or her sword. If it were only an
external threat that she could face head on. If it were only an obvious
weakness, something even in herself, but something she could come to
grips with. But what could she do with dreams in the dark?
Lost in her silent, failing struggle, she did not hear the quiet opening
of the door, nor did she note the form that ghosted across her room until
it actually sat upon her bed; and by then, of course, it was too late.
Ranma had already heard her faint whimper, already seen her toss and turn.
Numbly she turned her head to look at Ranma, and was again surprised by
the serene concern in her friend's sapphire eyes.
In some sense, Akane had always lived her life in a continual state of
insecurity, always convinced that the next day, the next challenge would
prove her painfully gathered skills inadequate, would leave her bereft and
lacking in worth. It was not that she did not appreciate her own skills
as a martial artist; indeed, in some ways those skills were themselves the
source of the problem. She was good at martial arts, but, she felt, _only_
at martial arts.
For all of her girlhood, Kasumi had been the perfect female figure.
When their mother had died, she had stepped into the role of alpha female
with barely a hitch. Nabiki had become skilled in manipulation, using
her mind and her skills at sneakiness to get things accomplished; for the
benefit of the Dojo itself, mostly, it was true. Denied primacy in these
areas, Akane had specialized in the Art, taking up the family school that
neither of her sisters had expressed an interest in, and in that pursuit
she had established a primacy of her own.
What she had not established was that her primacy was real. Always, in
the back of her mind, came the thought that her sisters had _allowed_ her
that primacy, because it did not matter. That no-one contested her in it,
because no-one cared. That all that her effort had bought her was ...
nothing. In the bright light of day she could look around herself and
see her strengths. In the light it looked like she had made of herself
a warrior who could overcome any challenge she attempted. In the light
it looked like the paths she had turned aside from offered little in the
way of real challenge. In the light it looked as though _she_ had taken
the harder path, the path of greatest growth, and that the necessary
parts (Oh, not _all_ the parts, no. But you don't need _all_ the parts
to get by.) of the others would be ... easy. Mostly. In the light.
I do think that this had a lot to do with Akane's attitude towards Ranma
in the canon. But never so well put...
But things do have a tendency to look differently in the dark. And if
you were lying on your back looking up at the ceiling, and if you were
somehow to relax the guards you normally hold that keep you from thinking
unpleasant thoughts like that, then, having thought one unpleasantness,
you might go on to think others. You might begin to think that the
path that you had chosen, far from being the path of greatest growth,
was instead the path of least result. You might begin to think that you
had traded the ability to make cookies for the ability to nearly get the
woman you have just realized you love killed.
Or, you might begin to question just how much all this practice you
have been doing in your chosen field has actually bought you. You might
begin to compare the things you had learned on your own to the things
that, let's say, Someone had taught you, and conclude that you had learned
nothing of value yourself at all. You might begin to think that you were
.. lesser, ... second rate. And you might begin to wonder what use you,
yourself, actually were. A second rater moreover, you might begin to
think, who has had the great idiocy to fall for a first rater in the same
field.
And you might begin to wonder just what use there is in saying, for
example, "Ranma and Akane". "Ranma and Kasumi", you might think, makes some
sense; "Kasumi" can cook ... and clean ... and ... and be Kasumi. "Ranma
and Nabiki" allows "Nabiki" to be sneaky and make money. But if all "Akane"
is good for is fighting, and if "Ranma" already has the fighting part
of "Ranma and Akane" covered, then what use in "Ranma and Akane" is ...
"Akane"? And if "Ranma and Akane" is a thing that you are coming to
believe is the thing that makes being "Akane" worthwhile, but there is no
use in "Ranma and Akane" for "Akane", then what use _is_ "Akane"? Or ...
_is_ there any use for "Akane" ... at all?
And these are the sorts of thoughts that have a tendency to cause
theoretical
thinkers Deep Distress, and, on that count, to be relegated to the far
background and never allowed out into the conscious portion of the brain.
And this in itself can cause certain problems.
For instance, when confronted with the aforesaid "Someone first rate
in the same field", and the occasion to meditate on silken scarlet hair
and sea-deep sapphire eyes, and the opportunity to ask the question "Is
there room in 'Ranma and Akane' for 'Akane'? Or, indeed, is there any
reason to entertain the concept of 'Ranma and Akane' at all?", then
thoughts like these might cause you to wimp out. And, for another
instance, even if you _are_ the "Someone, etc." and even if you _know_ that
there is indeed very good reason to entertain the concept of "Ranma and
Akane",
and furthermore what role "Akane" should play in it, it does not necessarily
follow that you _also_ know whether there is any reason to consider the
concept of "Akane and Ranma". And in this case similar thoughts can not
only cause you to wimp out, but also to pay less attention to subtleties
of interpersonal conversation than might otherwise be the case.
To summarize the summary of the summary: people are a problem.
Arrrgh!
And this goes a long way towards explaining why, when Ranma said,
"Problems?" Akane did _not_ say, "Yes! I'm tired, I'm sick, I hurt and I'm
so confused and overwhelmed that I can't think. I need to bury my face in
your hair for several years to clear my head. Make love to me 'til I pass
out!" but rather (in a much smaller voice), "Can't think. Too much."
And why Ranma did not, quite, hear what she meant, but only what she said.
And also why, when Ranma knelt on the bed and drew Akane up into a
reverse embrace, so that Akane was sitting in front of Ranma with Ranma's
arms folded beneath her breasts and the top of her head beneath Ranma's
chin, and said, "Maybe I can teach you a technique to help. Do you
trust me?" Akane just said "Yes," instead of "With my honor, my life and
my soul. And, incidentally, if you wanted to move your hands up a bit I'd
be perfectly happy to trust you with my body, too." And Ranma, of course,
missed that, as well.
Even world class martial artists, gifted with the perception to track
another person's motives and intentions in the heat of mortal combat
have their occasional off days. Which is a shame, it's true. But it just
isn't time for this story to go lemon yet.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Okay, Acchan," Ranma murmured, "this is called 'the Rainbow', because
the way you begin requires you to picture one in your mind. What I am
going to ask you to do is to close your eyes, and then to impress upon
yourself a vision of each of the colors of the rainbow, one by one. As
you visualize each color, you will attach to it all of your tensions,
unhappiness or pain and imbalance in a specific area. Then, when you
release the visualization of the color, you will also release all the
negative chi that you have just collected.
"The order and rhythm of the colors will allow you to completely rid
yourself of negative energy and to achieve a focused and receptive
mental state. Then, when you have passed through all the colors, you will
find yourself standing on a darkened landscape, where you will encounter
a stairway leading down.
"If you choose to descend the stairway, you will then encounter a
well-built, solid door, to which, you will find, you hold the only key.
Behind the door, if you choose to open it, you will find your Library, or
Study, the metaphorical center of your intellect.
"This technique employs a mixture of focused meditation and self-
hypnosis, and I repeat that you may _choose_ to descend the stairway,
and you may _choose_ to open the door to impress upon you that it is
_your_ door and _your_ stairway, and that _you_ may and must decide when,
and whether, to proceed in each and every case. I will be here to guard
you, this first time, and I will show you the way, but it is your will
that must impel events. If you decide to reverse the exercise, all you
need do, _at any time_, is open your eyes. Okay?"
Akane nodded, silently.
"Then begin with the first color of the rainbow," Ranma said, quietly,
"think about red, soft, warm red ..." Ranma kept her voice in a soothing,
lulling murmur, just loud enough to hear at close range, and began to
enter into the rhythms and pauses of a hieratic chant.
"All there is is red ... red is the color of physical relaxation ...
let the red fill every corner of your body, let it pick up all the pain
and fatigue and tension and then let it flow away ... red flows away and
is followed by orange ..."
Ranma's low contralto voice flowed over Akane's weary mind and soothed
her deeper and deeper into a trance state, taking her through the colors
of the rainbow, and also through all the stages of release of care and
tension, "... violet is the color of union with the Tao, the Tao is
everything and nothing, become part of the color and let the color become
part of you ... drift down with the color as it gets darker and darker
.. closer and closer to the dark ... less and less color ... less and
less of everything ... everything going away until you are alone with
yourself and the Tao ... don't be afraid ... I'll be just out here ...
nothing will get by me to harm you ... tell me when you are ready to go on."
Akane seemed to drift down, through a slowly fading violet haze, down
to a gentle landing on her feet. All around her she sensed a darkened,
empty plain stretching far away. Though in looking around she could not
see any sign of Ranma, her presence still nestled close about her, warm
and comforting. "Okay," she said, "now what?"
"Turn around," Ranma replied, "Do you see the stairway?"
"Uh-huh. Should I go down?"
"Whenever you're ready."
Akane slowly walked down the stairway, feeling very secure, as though
she were following an old, familiar pathway, to a well-beloved destination.
At the bottom of the stairs, she came to a small landing, seemingly cut
out of the living rock. It was filled with a sourceless illumination, and
could be exited in only two ways: the stairway up, and a large, forbidding
door made of iron-banded oak. The door did not open to a touch, and the
keyhole exuded a definite impression of unpickability. "Ranchan? I'm
at the bottom, but I can't get the door open."
"Look in your pocket. You're carrying the key."
"I don't remember any key that looked like that ... hey! You're right
Ranchan!" Akane unlocked the door, and opened it upon wonder. "Ranchan!
It's a library alright! Wow! There must be _millions_ of books and things,
there's Mangas all over the place, all my favorites ..." Ranma assumed a
pained look, "... the paintings on the walls, they're beautiful ...
Kamis! Look at that desk! Thing's big enough for planes to land on ...
ooohh! Nice, comfy chair too! Ahhh! This is really nice, Ranchan. Are
you sure it's mine?"
"All yours, Acchan," Ranma chirped, "Let me give you a present?"
"Ummm, sure. What is it?"
"Look on the desk, it may be under something. It's a small book,
leather binding, thin pages ...."
"I see it! Ranchan! It's really expensive .... are you sure you can
afford to give it to _me_?"
"Trust me. Now if you open the book, you will see that I've written
a word on the first several pages, right? The first page says 'Akane',
the second says 'study', the third says 'focus', the fourth says 'sleep',
the fifth says 'dream' and the sixth says 'return' right? And the rest
are blank."
"Yep. So?"
"So if you pick up the book and concentrate on 'Akane' you will then
concentrate on who you are and why. This will let you more fully integrate
new skills and experiences into your Tao. Likewise 'study' will focus
your subconscious on making sense whatever the last things you have just
learned are, 'focus' will let you concentrate on one specific thing that
you are thinking of, 'sleep' will let you do just that, 'dream' will
give you the ability to direct and explore your dreams, and 'return' will
bring you back. You can do more than one thing at once, and if you open
your eyes without concentrating on 'return' part of you will keep, for
instance, studying everything you have been learning that day; even while
you are asleep, or eating dinner, or whatever."
"Gotcha. Pretty cool."
"Glad you like it. Now concentrate on 'return' ...."
Akane opened her eyes and looked around, blinking. She noticed that Ranma
had somehow moved from behind her, holding her up, to sitting on the foot
of the bed. 'Awwwww.' "Ohayo, Ranchan, what now?"
"Do me a favor."
"Okay."
"Go back under and hit 'Akane' and 'sleep'. I'll see you in the morning."
"Spoilsport."
"Slacker."
Akane stretched and yawned, laying back into her covers before Ranma's
folded arms stance as colors whirled around her. Soon, the beautiful
walls of her Library opened around her. Walking over to her desk she picked
up the book Ranma had given her and thumbed through it. For a few moments
she stopped on the first blank page and stared at it intensely, then
she picked a fine quill pen off the desk and dipped it in the ink sitting
in the small inkstone. Poising the pen over the page she used the best
calligraphy she could muster to write the word 'Ranma' on it.
Holding the book open in her hands, she sank down into the chair and
got comfortable. Then she focused her will on the pages 'Ranma', 'Akane',
'sleep' and 'dream'. On the last word she closed the book and put it
down on the desk, letting her arms out wide in an enormous stretch and
cracking all her vertebrae, before settling backwards to go to sleep.
Outside the library, Ranma looked down fondly on Akane's sleeping
form and ghosted out the door and back to the guest room.
And had there been anyone around that night who was able to see the
rising ghosts of dreams on the night air, that someone might have spied
the columns of such rising strongly and fully from two separate rooms
of the big old house, remarked on how similar to each other they were,
and been astonished. But there wasn't, and so, no-one did.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Akane woke up happy. This was a moderately rare event for her, but
she noticed that it had been becoming more frequent since the imposition
on her life of a certain red-haired girl. Regardless of the source of
her new-found contentment, however, she would normally _not_ have expected
this morning to be a good one. Too much fear and pain the day before,
too much expected stress today.
Somehow, though, she had managed to navigate the dark rapids of the
night and emerge in the hush of early dawn rested, loose-limbed and,
somehow, entirely content.
Quickly dressing, she picked Isileth from the stand on her dresser
and slipped her in her jacket. Passing silently out her door and down
the hall to the top of the stairs she stood silently for a moment,
listening to the silence of the house. Just below the normal limits of
audibility she could discern Kasumi's ministrations in the kitchen and
someone singing quietly in the garden.
It's so easy to dream of days gone by,
So hard to think of times to come.
And the grace to accept every moment as a gift
Is a gift that is given to some.
Nabiki woke up discontented. She had pinned some hopes on the night
before, but her surveillance activities had come up empty. She was _sure_
that Ranma and her sister were lovers, but she had not achieved her
lofty reputation as a manipulator of events by acting ahead of _certain_
knowledge. The remedy for the lack of which had seemed simple, too; lovers
will tend to cling to one another in times of stress, and yesterday's
activities _should_ have provided _plenty_ of stress, which _should_ have
expressed themselves nicely last night.
But except for Ranma doing some sort of meditation thingy to help
Akane sleep, _nothing had happened_. It was annoying, was what it was.
Worse yet, from her viewpoint, she had theorized that they might,
perhaps, simply have been too tired the night before; and had woken up
at an entirely-too-early time in the morning to continue her oversight,
and not only had Ranma already been up, but Akane had woken early too,
and _again_ they hadn't done anything. Not even a kiss!
Ah well, maybe one of them was more aware than she had thought. She
would simply have to get more subtle. It would be a good challenge. Or,
she might just strangle the gibbering pair of _early-morning_ songsters.
Blearily and grumpily, Nabiki sat down in the dining room and snarled
at merrily cheeping birds and cheery sunrise alike.
What can you do with your days,
But work and hope?
Let your dreams bind your work to your play.
What can you do with each moment of your life,
But live til you've lived it away?
Live til you've lived it away.
Soun awoke unsettled. This was hardly unusual, of course. Still, he
thought, this was even worse than normal. For all the griefs he normally
felt, for all the power of the terrors and regrets that he normally
struggled with, they were just that: _normal_, the common structure of
his days. The changes that young Ranma seemed to have brought into his
family and his life might or might not be terrible, but he felt their
abnormality keenly nonetheless.
Yet alongside this additional weight lurked an additional variable,
neither necessarily negative nor positive. With change comes the possibility
of change for the better. Yet if that possibility is not fulfilled is
it not more terrible than if no such possibility had existed? At the
bottom of every Pandora's Box lurks shining Hope. And whether that was
a good or an evil thing Tendo Soun could not for the life of him decide.
There are sorrows enough for the whole world's end,
There are no guarantees but the grave.
But this life that we live, and the times that we spend,
Are treasures to precious to save.
Kasumi had probably awoken with the same serenity which she always
showed the world. It's always difficult to tell, with Kasumi.
What can you do with your days,
But work and hope?
Let your dreams bind your work to your play.
What can you do with each moment of your life,
But live til you've lived it away?
Live til you've lived it away.
Kodachi and Sayuri woke early, each separately deciding that they
hated hospitals. But we won't get back to them until a little later.
What can you do with your days,
But work and hope?
Let your dreams bind your work to your play.
What can you do with each moment of your life,
But live til you've lived it away?
Live til you've lived it away.
And a new day in Nerima began, as Kasumi called her, slightly enlarged,
family to breakfast.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The thing that Akane was most aware of as breakfast continued was
hunger; a great, growing void in her stomach that the food Kasumi had
brought to table, double-sized though it was, barely dented. Ranma,
however, put a surreptitious hand on her shoulder when she would have
asked Kasumi for more food, indicating that she should keep silence.
Once outside the Dojo on the road to Furinkan, Ranma led Akane and Nabiki
to a small side-street off the Nerima Ginza, wherein they found what
Nabiki immediately dubbed "the perfect hole-in-the-wall dive". It was
a very small restaurant, without even a window onto the street. The door
itself hardly advertised it's status as a place of business; much more
resembling a service entrance for some greater establishment, except for
the small sign whereon resided the single word, "Gally's".
Hmmm?
The inside of the restaurant was clean and neat, if small and dark. It
was dominated by the enormous grill that swept across the back wall and
left only a little space into which a counter with ten stools and half a
dozen small tables had been crammed. There were no customers, and the
only occupant, who was evidently the cook, looked up at them with an
expression of professional cheer that lasted only a few seconds.
"Hi! Welcome to Gally's. What I fix may for you today ... _Ranma_?"
^^^^^^^^^^^
Is this supposed to be like this?
"Hiya, Gally-kun, we need eight mega-burgers to go, please."
"Eight ...? Right, eight Megas, to go, coming up."
Gally, if it were she, was a short, elfin girl with straight black
hair that barely reached her shoulders. She possessed the grace of a
martial artist in full measure and was almost superhumanly fast and deft.
Her only unusual features were the black lines beneath her eyes, but
both Akane and Nabiki received a clear impression of hidden depths, as
though beneath her unmarked arms and perfect skin a whole collection of
scars lurked unseen, yet not unfelt.
...Surely not...
Akane, however, quickly found herself distracted from questions of
deeper reality by her stomach's reaction to the _enormous_ piles of
savory ground beef, bacon and onions being constructed at lightning
speed before her eyes. She had, of course, _been_ to a McDonald's before,
and she had even ordered a burger there, so she _was_ aware of the
concept involved. But the idea of 'burger' that she had previously been
aware of did not really seem to have much to do with the things that
were taking shape before her eyes.
"So, Ranma-kun," Gally said over her shoulder, "what doing were you
that touched off an eight-Mega hunger? I mean 'What were you doing?'"
"Aaaactually ... it's closer to a three-Mega hunger, Gally-kun. But
Acchan here will probably need a little more."
"She's in the same, errr, 'business', Ranma-kun?"
Ranma smiled quietly, "I've taken her as a student."
Gally whipped around and stared at Ranma for a moment, big-eyed. Ranma
blushed slightly and mumbled, "She shows great promise."
One of the burgers chose that moment to expel some of its grease onto
the grill, hissing and spitting. Gally gave a small shriek and whipped
into a cooking frenzy, getting the burgers back under control. "Well,
I'm glad that it's just normal ..." she trailed off.
Ranma raised an eyebrow at her back and asked, "Yes?"
"It's just that I ... well, yesterday I suddenly got um... it was like
I suddenly got the idea that you were a lot of trouble in. Silly, huh?
Hugo told me that he had a bad feeling about mid-morning, too. Said it
was like 'A goose had walked across his grave.' Honestly, know where he
comes up with these things I don't."
Ranma sweat-dropped briefly. "Ahh, yeah. Silly. How _is_ Hugo-kun,
anyway? And Ido-sensei?"
Oh boy. Don't tell me Ranma went to the Scrapyard and brought some people
back with him...
"Ohh, Hugo's _just_ fine. He and Ido are both doing things at Nekomi
Tech, you know. Techy stuff." She grinned briefly, and fairly lit up the
room. "It's entirely too geekly for me to be interested in, but it makes
them _so_ happy...."
"Yee-es," Ranma drawled, "I _do_ seem to recall you being more on
the side of, mmmm, _practical implementation_, shall we say?"
"Be nice, Ranma-kun. So I like moving fast and blowing things up good.
Is that any reason for you to be mean to me?" Ranma smirked. "Oh! That
reminds me," Gally continued, "Hugo and Ido have joined a motor club at
NIT. Would you come out to the races with us?"
Oh Kami-sama.(And I mean that *Literally*)
Do I take it that an encounter with a certain three sisters is not out of
the question?
"If nothing, mmm, _serious_ intervenes, sure. When and where?"
Gally finished the first burger and whipped it in front of a nearly
drooling Akane, who launched into it with vigor. "I'll get word to you
when I know when the next race will be held." She put together a smaller
burger that she had somehow hidden amongst the others and wrapped rice
paper around it, handing it to Nabiki. "First hit's free," she winked.
On the way out the door, loaded down with a _huge_ fast-food sack,
Ranma turned back briefly, "... soon, Gally-kun. For some reason I think
that we're about to suffer from an enormous addiction to ground beef,"
and winked in turn.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nabiki was somewhat amazed at herself, but exceedingly amazed at her
companions. The burgers were as good as anything Kasumi could have made,
and the relatively smallish one she had eaten was still larger than
anything that she, an experienced consumer of munchies, would have
believed she could have found room for so soon after breakfast. Yet it
was less than a third the size of the _eight_ that the slight chef had
made for Ranma and her sister, and Nabiki was not sure whether to be
more amazed that Ranma had finished _two_ of them, that her _sister_
had finished two of them, that Akane had eaten them with such ...
voraciousness, that Ranma had put _three_ of them back for later in
the school day, or that she was still carrying one of them in her hand,
perhaps to use on the walk _to_ school.
But what Nabiki was being _really_ amazed at was that Akane could
pack away a major Kasumi-style breakfast, follow it with _two_ piles
of meat, cheese, vegetables and bread that must have tipped the scales
at a pound and a half each, and _still_ have the energy to jump about
like a moderately demented ping-pong ball while "attacking" Ranma.
At least Ranma was being sensible and remaining serene in her manner.
Though it was a sobering exhibition of just how good she truly was to
note that she was facing down a sword with a folding fan. And kicking
Akane's butt without breaking a sweat.
Nabiki stole a moment from admiring the martial arts exhibition to
take another searching look at the fan. Nabiki harbored suspicions about
that fan. Normal fans, after all, do not deflect sword-blades, nor can
they be used as leverage to flip an opponent fifty feet into the air.
The thing was, though, that it couldn't be a gunsen at all. It was
plainly visible to anyone's sight: a simple, folding bamboo frame,
covered with plain rice paper that had never even been died or patterned.
To Nabiki's eye it seemed to be a well-used three or four years old,
and the only thing on it was a small calligraphed phrase that appeared
to be an autograph or similar running along one edge.
"Umm, Ranma-san?" Akane slid forward along the fence, Isileth at mid-
guard. Ranma looked down towards Nabiki's upturned face and flicked down
beside her as Akane slide-stepped forward along the fence-top.
"Yes, Nabiki-kun?" Ranma lightly rapped Akane's ankles, sending her
forward another dozen paces as she struggled to control herself.
"I was just wondering where you'd gotten that fan from?" Nabiki
indicated the fan in question with a gesture as Akane regained control
by jumping up and high into the air.
"Well, I bought it for Sensei, once ..." Ranma gestured widely with
the folded implement.
"Haaaah!" Akane came down in a falling pear-splitter. *whsssh*
Which Ranma dodged, gently guiding the blade past with the fan before
*whrt* flicking her high into the air again. "Whooaaa!"
"... and when, later, I left his school, so to ..." Ranma flowed around
to Nabiki's outer side with respect to the street as Akane flipped in
mid-air and came back down.
"Not that ..." she began to snarl *hfff* as Ranma guided to sword-blade
past herself again. Akane evaded a fan twist and lunged, perfectly in
control. There was a *klng* as Ranma blocked the blow close and a rapid-
fire *klk-klak-klik* as they fenced for fractions of a second before
*whf* another blow went past and Akane's ".. eas.." trailed of behind
another *whrt* "... eeeeee!" *THUD*
"... speak, he gave it back. It's just a keepsake, really." Ranma
hid her face behind the fan in a moderately provocative manner as Akane
thumped into a telephone pole down the street.
"But you're blocking a _sword_ with it! _And_ flipping my little sister
umpty-dozen feet in the air. Why doesn't it break?" Nabiki asked plaintively
as Akane pushed herself away from the pole.
"Neat trick, ne?" Ranma winked.
Akane put Isileth away and threw her arms out in a great, wrenching
yawn as Ranma and Nabiki came level with her. "Ahhhh! Ranchan, I don't
think I'm going to get that one easily on my own. It ought to be easier;
just what are you doing, anyway?"
Nabiki tuned the explanation out, thinking furiously. She had gotten
several blurred glimpses of the calligraphy as Ranma had gestured with it,
and she thought that she had seen that hand before somewhere. Common
wisdom argued that any artist's hand is completely unique, and so if
she could recognize the style it should be as good as actually seeing
what it said. Then she shook her head; no, it couldn't be. But she
remembered where that hand had leapt out at her before: on a set of
scrolls in a museum.... Which was patently impossible of course, even
for Ranma, but....
She hasn't quite gotten to grips with that amulet, has she?
Her attention was distracted by a loud growl next to her. Looking
around, she saw that Akane was paper-white and holding her stomach
with both hands. "Ranchan ...," she whispered panic-stricken, but Ranma
had already unwrapped the burger she had been holding and put into her
hand. Akane looked at it in shock for a moment before all but falling on
it slavering.
Nabiki looked on with concern as her sister ravened her way through
her (effectively) fifth full breakfast of the morning. She would have
been far more concerned of course, had Ranma herself not so obviously
anticipated it, but still ....
Akane herself was no little concerned. "Ranchan, what's happening to
me?"
"You used up a _whole_ bunch of resources yesterday, Acchan. In fact,
I would estimate that you used up about twice what you had available.
So you , we, had to borrow some more, so to speak. This is just the
pay-back. Well, and the interest too, of course."
Urk. Overdrawn at the Calorie Bank. Nasty.
"Me and my big ideas," Akane muttered.
"So you'll stay behind, next time?," Ranma asked hopefully.
Akane's glare required no translation. "You _did_ say that you
_did_ need me along, _right_?" she purred.
Ranma sweat-dropped and blushed, grinning sicklily, "Errr. Yeah."
"So there."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The room was mostly dark, if you didn't count the TV. Normally, Sayuri
was as capable of vegging out as any teenager, but that was when she had
a choice whether to do so or not. Of course, she could have turned the
lights up ... then she could have spent whole ... seconds cataloging the
flowers and plants. As of the last time she had done so, fifteen minutes
ago, there had been 35.
Or, she could read. The signs on the wall, for instance. Why, there
must be ... twenty of them. That had been thirty minutes ago. Of course,
looked at objectively, it was sufficient of a miracle that she was alive
for the sheer lack of anything to do to drive her crazy in the first
place. She certainly shouldn't complain that her family had been too
distracted by her miraculous recovery to remember to leave her any
books. Or even homework.
Or, she could review her suspicions about the source of that 'miracle'
for the ... twenty-third ... time. Or, she could get right up and wander
about in the _lovely_ hospital, wearing the _lovely_ hospital gown that
was actually _more_ embarrassing than if they'd left her naked. At least
there weren't any IVs left. Although there wouldn't be anyone out there
to talk to except patients she didn't know and who certainly had worse
problems than her and staff members who certainly wouldn't have time to
amuse one teenage girl.
It was certainly a better policy to wait quietly until someone came to
visit her. If she avoided straining anything, they might let her go home,
she supposed, sometime next week.
Sayuri leaned back in her bed and watched the television's flickering
glow for a few moments, then slung her feet over the edge of the bed and
found a spare gown. This she put on over her original gown, but backwards,
and topped off with a towel from the bathroom. Then she opened the door
and went out into the corridors. It was either that, or another dubbed
episode of Wheel of Fortune.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kodachi lay back in her bed with the TV off, and gathered her strength.
Her leg was still very weak, in her estimation, and her face ached in a
pattern that suggested to her that she might well end up with a permanent
scar. Her eyes were closed in concentration, because she was attempting
something that she had only heard stories about.
She was trying to visualize all of the relevant acupuncture points for
legs and arms and to connect them in a chi circulation circuit. It didn't
help that she had never actually even felt her chi per se, of course, but
it was something to do to pass the time until her torturer/therapist
showed up. And keeping her eyes closed to concentrate on her visualization
meant that she didn't have to look at her room. Which didn't have anything
in it to look at but the flowers that Ranma-sensei and Akane-san had left.
And she knew what they looked like.
Unfortunately, neither self-hypnosis nor even meditation had ever been
among the skills she had mastered, and the necessary distance from the
red dust of earth would not come to her, try though she might. Thus, the
unexpected opening of her door came as something of a relief. It _was_
a little odd, since Ranma and Akane should be in school and no-one else
was likely to come by to visit, and it was outside the nurse's and
therapist's schedules as well; and she sat up in bed and raised her lights.
The appearance of a small, long-haired girl in two hospital gowns and a
towel
was somewhat unexpected.
Hmmm... Start of a friendship? They *do* have a mutual interest...
Founder members of the 'Rescued by Ranma & Akane Club', perhaps... ^_-
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The school-yard before first bell was a hotbed of rumor and speculation.
The only sure information was that Sayuri had come out of her coma at
last and that Ranma had had something to do with it. Persistent rumor
whispered Akane's name as well; said that she had died curing Sayuri's
illness; said that _Ranma_ had died curing Sayuri's illness; said that
Ranma and Akane had died _together_, and in each other's arms; said that
the "in each other's arms" part was right but that they were still
quite alive, thank you (nudge, nudge, wink, wink, etc.); denied all of
the above for the thought that Sayuri's "illness" had been induced by
The Forces Of Darkness, who had finally been defeated by Magical Girl
Ranma and her apprentice; and threw around other thoughts, some of which
Some of these aren't that far off. I like the Magical Girl one... ^_^
were very strange and inaccurate indeed. The absence of Furinkan's normal
source of rumors and hearsay, Tendo Nabiki, did nothing but add fuel to
the fire.
Yuka had originally been besieged, but since she had been otherwise
occupied worrying about Sayuri she had little data to give. This had
caused the crowd to fragment and so she had had to latch on to Daisuke
and Hiroshi in order to have someone to speculate with. Nonetheless,
she was the first to hear the distant voices, silver and gold.
Aaaand it's the return of the theme tune...
I was riding west, through Ontake Mountains.
The hills were heavy with new-fallen snow,
And the sun-bright hills were dappled like a pony,
I was riding hard, I had miles to go.
And a magpie flew, 'cross the mountain highway,
It flashed and tumbled, through the golden trees,
And I thought of you, and my heart was lifted,
And floated with that magpie, on the morning breeze.
Hiroshi and Daisuke noticed her silence and then, moments later, the
reason for it. Caught up between going to hear the voices better and
gaining height so they could see better, the Average Pair settled for
trying to shush people instead.
We are brief Summer lightning,
We are swift as swallows' flight.
We are sparks that spiral upwards,
In the darkness of the night.
We are frost upon the window,
We won't pass this way again,
In the end only love remains.
Across the Furinkan schoolyard ripples of silence spread, as the spell
of leaping flame and swirling wind touched briefly here and there and then
passed on.
Tonight the Harvest Moon hangs over the valley,
I see the hills shine, in its silvery light.
It's the same old Moon, that shines down upon me,
And'll light my way, till I'm by your side.
For where I go, You go with me,
Though the miles keep us apart.
Your kisses on my lips, and your arms around me,
And your gentle hands, always on my heart.
Some heard in the song confirmations of theories. Some did not.
We are brief Summer lightning,
We are swift as swallows' flight.
We are sparks that spiral upwards,
In the darkness of the night.
We are frost upon the window,
We won't pass this way again,
In the end only love remains.
Nabiki, walking just behind Ranma and Akane, marveled. She had
always known that her little sister was good at martial arts, but who
would have thought that _this_ was hiding under there, too.
Well who scattered these diamonds, through the vault of Heaven?
Who drew the curve of the magpie's wing?
Who shaped your face, and what made you love me?
Where is the heart of every living thing?
Well, I guess I don't know, and I don't care either.
I know you love me, how could it not be?
And I am your's, now and forever,
'Till my lips fall silent, and my eyes can't see.
Somewhere in the back of her mind words like 'Idol' and 'Agent' were
flashing, surrounded by scads of beautiful yen signs, but for the moment
even Nabiki was lost in the song.
We are brief Summer lightning,
We are swift as swallows' flight.
We are sparks that spiral upwards,
In the darkness of the night.
We are frost upon the window,
We won't pass this way again,
In the end Dear, only love remains.
Ranma and Akane entered the schoolyard to a wall of stunned silence.
Akane almost blushed, but Ranma smiled broadly and spread her arms wide
and the walls of Furinkan picked up her shouted "Good Morning, Furinkan!"
and blurred it back into a roaring cheer.
Yuka hurtled from her position by the doors with a cry of "Ranma-san,
Akane-san!" Like a hyperactive heat-seeking missile she hurled herself
into Ranma's arms shouting "Thank you! Thank you for saving Sayuri-chan!"
Slipping free from a slightly staggered Ranma she turned on Akane, and
froze with a wail of shock.
Yuka's wailed "Akane-san! What happened?!" pretty well silenced the
cheering and when Yuka gently grasped Akane's blushing face by the chin
and turned her head everyone could see the scars; and see, also, the
flaming red and swirling gold of the eye beneath them.
The stunned silence lasted for several seconds as Akane's blush
achieved near nuclear proportions but the blush faded instantly when
Yuka broke the silence ... by bursting into tears.
Akane swept Yuka into her arms and hugged her hard. "Shh, Yuka-chan.
It's all right. I'm not hurt, it's just a scar, like; the eye still
works."
"But ... *snff* ... I mean, are you sure Akane-san? It looks like ..."
Akane blushed again, but rallied, "I'm _sure_, believe me. It looks
weird as hell, but everything works just fine."
"But _how_?" Yuka said.
"Oh, well," Ranma said, dryly, "she _is_ a hero, you know."
"But then why don't _you_ have one, Ranma-san?" someone called.
Ranma ran a possessive hand over her flaming hair and said, "Each to
their own."
A small wave of chuckles was broken by another cry from the rear ranks,
"Three cheers for Ranma and Akane!"
"Banzai!!" Ranma smirked and covered her mouth with her fan as Akane's
blush went beyond Mega-Nuclear to Don't Point That At My Planet.
Heh. Tales From The Floating Vagabond, right?
"_Banzai!!_" Akane resolved to kill the person who had spoken,
afterwards. Still, no-one had ever cheered _her_ specifically before.
When you came down to it, it was kind of nice.
"BANZAI!!" And the left eye in her thrown back face flamed, briefly,
a solid gold.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
After: It's only part one of 5A, folks. Part two coming up, hopefully
going on Spring Break next week will give me the time.
Oh pleez. Oh _pleez_ let there be time...