Choices

Decision
Author Notes
by
well, the author, duh.

There really isn't much to say.  I could apologize for the
length of time it took me to write this chapter, but I'm
actually proud of myself for getting it done within the space
of a year (and to think I didn't even get nominated for a
Chickenball procrastination award.  Oh, the ignominy!).  I
probably would have had it done earlier, but I got bogged
down for about three months right after Ranma went to bed
sick from Akane's cooking.  The entire ending section was
written within about two weeks, with those odd little dream
sequences being the final bits written.
   (Still very unsure about those.  That final poetry bit will most certainly be touched up - I already know without being told that it's pretty appalingly bad poetry.  I probably got a little too funky for my own good.  Actually, the entire final third of the fic is very much a draft - feel free to tear apart!)
   Interesting little sidenote: the flashback scene where
Akane reveals what she found upon her return to the party
was originally intended as the conclusion for part one.  The
scene remains unchanged from what I wrote three years ago.
It's just been sitting on my hard-drive waiting to be used all
this time.
   There was actually a fair bit more I wanted to squeeze
into this chapter, but this seemed a good place to stop writing
- Decision was already getting overly long, at about 30k
words (all of Choices now clocks in at 82 678 WordPerfect-
counted words.)  Guess it'll all have to wait for part four.
Whenever that'll be.
   One thing I wanted to achieve with this chapter was to
garner some sympathy for Akane.  From the feedback I
received, she certainly wasn't anyone's favourite at the end of
part two.  The problem lies with the way I portrayed her in
the beginning: I'm a little embarrassed at how shallow I
wrote her at the party.  Then again, a lot has changed since
then, in both the way I write (I think), and in the focus of the
story.  I just hope you all still enjoy it.
   (I don't think I'll ever manage to garner any
sympathy for Sayuri. . . .)
   And I guess that's it.  I'm still following my original
outline (more or less), so I guess I'm sort of on track -
although the concluding chapter has always been the least
clear in my mind.  Well, we'll see how it goes.

   Later!
   And, as always, feedback greatly appreciated:
private's great, pubic's even cooler!  Let me know what you
think, this chapter (especially the later stuff) is most certainly
not set in stone.  Thanks!

-Mike Noakes
noakes_m@hotmail.com
http://www.geocities.com/noakes_m

***

As an extra. . . er, bonus, here's some of the bits I cut out or
otherwise reconsidered as I was writing.  For some reason I
have trouble assigning these things to oblivion.  Who knows,
you might find some of it interesting, especially the scene
with female-Ranma, the baby seal, a tub of wasabe, and the
gathered members of Morning Musume singing 'Love
Machine.'
   (No, sadly, there never was any such scene.  Although
I'd love to write Morning Musume into a fic, for some
reason.)

Choices: Decision
Cuts

   "They were scared, Ranma.  _I_ was scared."
   "D'ya really think I'd ever hurt you, Akane?"
   "You did two nights ago."
   "I didn't mean to hurt you -- I wasn't going to hurt
you.  I've said I'm sorry already.  I've said it so often I'm
sick of it.  I'm not gonna say it again."
   Akane's face darkened, eyes drawing together
dangerously.  Her sharp intake of breath was clearly audible
in the otherwise quiet room.  Yet, much to his surprise, she
visibly restrained her anger.  "You really don't get it, do you,
Ranma," she said.
   He blinked.  "You're right, I don't.  Heck, I woulda
thought you'd be happy.  I mean, you're always askin' me to
take you seriously, to fight back, after all."
   "That's different and you know it!"
   "Really?"
   "That's in the dojo!  What you did at the party, that
was real life."
   "See!" he exclaimed, and jumped to his feet.  "You
don't get it! _You_ don't get it.  There's no difference,
Akane, there's never been, not to me.  The dojo _is_ real life;
the dojo is as real as it gets!
   "Do ya see Pop treatin' me any diff'rent outside of the
dojo than inside?  Eh?  Do the rules change?  No, 'cus there
ain't no rules, not in Anything Goes,

***

"For a year, Akane, a _year_!  When I wasn't fightin' or
training or dealing with somethin' weird, it'd eat away at me,
worrying about what was wrong with me.  But it ain't me, it
ain't never been me; or maybe I oughta say, it's always been
me, but those jerks tried to make something outta me that I'm
not.  And you know why?  Because they see in me something
that they are missing; something they are not; something
different."
   "Something better?"
   Ranma had been well aware of her eyes gradually
widening with, he presumed, disbelief, face slowly expressing
disgust, but at her question he let out a bark of laughter.
   "You know, a year ago, six months, a few weeks ago
-- I woulda said, 'no'.  Now, hell yes, Akane, better.  I used to
think that the guys and girls at school, that they had
somethin', something I didn't.  Friends, family, a normal life,
something _special_."  He released a grim chuckle.  "Yeah,
whatever.  I got nothin' to learn from those people.  Nothing."
   His ex-fiancee cut in.  "Of course not.  You're
_better_ then them."
   "I _am_ better, Akane.  Not different and equal:
different and better."
   "Better than all of us?  Better than everybody?"
   "Nah."  He shook his head.  "Not everybody.  I'm not
better 'an Ryoga and Mousse, for examp. . . oh, drop the look
Akane, I'm not talkin' about martial arts here.  I can kick
their ass anyday, but that isn't what this is about.  Those two,
some others -- Shampoo, Cologne, my dad, hell, even Kuno --
I can respect.
   "I respect them because we share something those
weaklings at Furinkan don't have and never will.  The people
at school, they know this, and hold ever tighter the nothing
they hold so dear, and imbue it with hollow value so that we
others will be fooled into desiring it; and they do so with such
intensity that they themselves come to believe in its worth.
The deception is a powerful one, too, and since I've been in
Nerima I've been chasing it.  But their life is built around an
empty lie, and is all the uglier when exposed: Sayuri proved
that quite eloquently this afternoon.
   "But the solid truth Ryoga and I feel, that we built
our lives around. . . .
   [something about not valuing it, for how can you
value something you carry with you, that you can never lose?
To value something is to be beholden to it; but the certainty
they know is part of them instead of dominating them -- or
some other pretentious sounding stuff.  I think I'm getting
kinda preachy here, and OOC.]


   "Oh, get off your high horse, Ranma.  Martial arts
aren't that great."
   "I already told you Akane, this ain't about Anything-
Goes.  Aren't you listening?  I respect Kasumi, she don't
know the first thing about throwing a punch."
   "Then what are you talking about?"
   "I don't know quite what to call it.  Will?  Belief,
intent, desire?  Whatever."

***

   A certain wonderment tinged her voice.  "And yet you
stayed?  Why?"
   "I dunno.  Family honor and obligation?  Maybe I
thought I liked it here in Nerima?  Mostly 'cus I didn't want
to admit to myself that that's how you really felt."  He
shrugged.  "Or because, for the longest time, I think I loved
you."
   Silence, in which only the faint whispering of the
wind could be heard.
   "I oughta go."
   Her tackle, coming as it did from her position on the
floor, took him by surprise as he turned to leave.  Legs
tangled in her grasp, he fell to the floor, only just managing to
twist enough to avoid planting his face into the tatami.  The
impact was nevertheless jarring, and it was with some anger
that he sprung up to face his attacker.
   "Wha-."
   "How _dare_ you," she said, close, angry, with what
appeared to be tears dotting the side of her eyes.  "How dare
you drop something like that, then turn and leave?"
   "Why should you care?  I thought you hated me."


***

   "You really mean it this time, don't you?" said
Ukyou, interrupting her musing.
   "Didn't I say so?"
   "Before, no one ever believed you.  You always. . .
This time. . . ," she started, but her voice simply trailed off,
almost as if in awe.  Akane was surprised.  She had expected
ecstatic joy, some form of gloating, a whoop of glee -- after
all, another rival had been eliminated, right?  Instead Ukyou
seemed either overwhelmed by her sudden victory, or
uneasily concerned by the ease with which she had suddenly
become fiancee prospect number one.  A victory in which you
played no part is never one accepted easily.  Finally finding
her voice, Ukyou asked a single, short question: "How?"
   "What do you mean?"
   "How did it happen?  Not that I'm complaining, but I
never expected our rivalry to end quite this way.  With a fight
or something, maybe, but this. . . ?  What happened?"
   Akane shrugged.  "He went to far."  She thought for a
moment.  "No, that's not quite true.  We both went too far.  I
guess we knew each other better than we realized.   That
night at the party, we said all the right -- all the wrong --
things, and hurt each other pretty badly."
   "What did you say to my Ranma-honey?"  That
aggressive edge underscored her voice again, and Akane
sighed.
   "Sure, blame me.  Thanks, Ukyou."
   "Wouldn't be the first time you hurt him without
provocation!"
   "With. . . no.  I had this talk with Ranma today
already, I'm not going through it again with you.  What do
you care, anyway?  You've got what you want.  Go find
Ranma, be his cute fiance."
   "Not until you tell me what you did."
   "Wh-?"
   "Because everything's different now, Akane!  I don't
know how, but you changed things.  The Ranma we all
watched walk off tomorrow, he wasn't the boy I've known
since childhood.

***

He awoke that morning with a start and a sudden realization -
- I understand! -- but having spent the night on the topmost
branch of a very tall tree, promptly fell from his perch and
plummeted to the ground.  Catlike reflexes kicked in half-
way down, and without conscious thought he caught and
twisted off a branch, hit the ground feet first and rolled out of
the impact, and rose without so much as a new bruise.
Ranma Saotome allowed himself a small smile as he came to
full wakefulness: a week ago, he doubted he could have done
the same, still half-asleep as he had been.  Too long, he told
himself, far too long since I've been this awake, every nerve
on fire, senses alert, his whole body primed and softly tense
with readiness.  If only there was someone here to fight.
   There wasn't, so he relaxed and began his morning's
ablutions (such as they were) while the water for his breakfast
boiled, and he suddenly realized that today was Sunday and
he was supposed to return to the Tendos.
   But I don't want to go back, he decided.  A week of
training in the forest had left its toll, bruises and scratches,
dirt and aches, and a decidedly queasy and mostly empty
stomach, but the temptation remained to simply continue his
practice.  While deeply into the Art, other concerns faded to
insignificance.  Fiancees, false friends, insults, shame,
obligations: what were they, compared to a single, perfectly
executed punch?  Time had drained away much of the
previous week's anger; the sheer intensity of the first day of
training had deadened both mind and body, making Furinkan
seem so very far away.

***

Ranma dreams: he walks along a narrow path of small flat
stones towards a swimming pool, a square of shifting
illuminated blue in otherwise featureless black.  Darkness
swells on either side, although, as he continues forward, he
gradually becomes aware of the presence of people moving
just beyond the limit of his vision -- people talking and
laughing, together.  With each step the darkness abates, noise
filters in, others join him along the path, walking towards or
away from the pool.  Only once reality has fully impacted
upon his senses does he realize that his body is female, clad in
an orange bikini dripping crimson.  It occurs to him that he
wants to swim.
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