There was still something from the visions last night he knew
he was forgetting; some small detail he had somehow again managed to overlook. It was there, right on the edge of his
memory, teasing him, testing his patience…
He knew it was important.
But he couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was.
And it was annoying the hell
out of him! Hadn’t he already learned everything he could from these dreams?
Last night, he had been so sure—he’d convinced himself that he finally
understood what was going on. So why—why
did it feel like he was still missing something?
The strain of it… he could almost feel it affecting him
physically. Even now, it felt like something was tugging at him—willing him to
remember. Again, his mind replayed every detail, relived every moment;
everything he’d seen; everything he’d heard; and any small detail that might
have escaped him.
…Nothing came.
The tugging sensation was growing more persistent with each
failed attempt; his arm felt heavy, as if something were physically pulling on it. Pulling
rather harder, in fact.
What was it he was
forgetting…?
That was the last thing Ranma recalled; next thing he knew,
his entire body was being yanked painfully to the side, and his head hit his
desk. Groaning, he put a hand to his aching head as he slowly sat up. Then,
remembering where he was, he glanced down at the offending hand that was
holding his arm, unamused.
“Dummy,” Akane hissed from her desk, finally releasing his
sleeve. “If you’re going to daydream, do it when Miss. Hinako isn’t in a bad mood! She’s already
drained two people! Do you want to be the third?”
Ranma instantly deflated, the fact that he was still stuck in
school quickly dulling his mood. “Heh, like she could even if she wanted too,”
he replied, pulling himself upright.
Akane rolled her eyes and proceeded to ignore him, promptly
returning her attention to the front of the room where an adult Hinako-sensei
was standing. Ranma sighed as he settled his head back on his desk. He still
couldn’t figure out why Akane had insisted on coming to class anyway. Didn’t
they have more important things to worry about...?! They could be at Doctor
Tofu’s right now, figuring out a battle plan or something.
Lifting his head slightly, Ranma allowed his gaze to wander
around the room, trying once again to relieve his boredom. Dumb Akane… he had
been so close too… a little longer, and he was sure he would’ve remembered.
Besides, it wasn’t like anyone else was actually paying attention to Miss Hinako’s lecture.
Daisuke and Hiroshi looked just as bored as him—though Daisuke noticeably more
so. He was slumped over his desk, his body flat and lifeless; Ranma frowned. It
didn’t take him long to recognize a drain victim when he saw one…
Even more troubling, however, was the fact that he couldn’t
seem to conjure up the usual feelings of anger and disgust he normally felt for
his drain-happy teacher. Even though a confrontation with Miss Hinako would
have been a welcome distraction, he just couldn’t seem to find the motivation
to initiate it.
Instead, he continued scanning the room, searching for victim
number two. For a moment, he thought
he found him in the form of Gosunkugi Hikaru, who was sitting in the back of
the room. The other boy’s arms were dangling uselessly by his sides, and he
looked miserably pale, and almost half-dead. His head was lying motionless on
the desk, while his eyes—to Ranma’s utter annoyance—stared unblinkingly at
Akane.
…Then he remembered that Gosunkugi always looked that way...
He found Hinako’s real
last victim moments later. The
unlucky boy was half-sitting, half-lying in a chair by the window—flat as could
be, and newly drained. Part of his arm was hooked around the chair, holding him
in place; and if not for that, Ranma was sure his body would have floated away.
Unfortunately, all of the other students were too afraid of
being drained to offer any real form of entertainment. And the chances of
Shampoo or Kodachi busting through the walls to see him anytime soon, were slim
to none: ever since the failed wedding, his fiancée’s had been surprisingly
effective in using doors and keeping property damage to a minimum. Not that he
could blame them… his mother and Kasumi could be quite persuasive when they
wanted to be.
With nothing left to distract him, Ranma found his mind
quickly returning to his earlier train of thought. Almost unconsciously, he
closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on that night so long ago... willing the
memories and their details to come…
...Until he felt Akane elbowing him not-so-lightly in the
ribs.
Opening his eyes, he turned to glare angrily at his
fiancée—only to see her glaring back, her expression perfectly mirroring his
own. They sat that way for several long minutes; their gazes locked in silent,
heated battle; neither one willing to admit defeat. But slowly, after several
more minutes had passed, he could see Akane’s resistance slowly wavering: her
eyes seemed to lose their angry, familiar fire, and her lips turned down, no
longer a tight, thin line. Finally, sighing, she abruptly turned away, and her
body seemed to sag in its chair.
Ranma watched her uncomfortably, unsure what just occurred,
yet confident that somehow he had just won. And though this small victory
should have made him feel better... for some reason, it only made him feel
worse.
Things should’ve changed between them by now. After
everything they’d talked about, everything they remembered—they had come to
some sorta agreement, hadn’t they? So why was she still acting like the same
uncute, dorky chick he’d known for the past year?
Was she trying to
forget everything that had happened last night...? He sure as hell couldn’t
think of any other reason for her behavior.
Just this morning, she had even reverted to her old habit of
calling him a jerk and a pervert at every opportunity—and for once, without any
provocation on his part! And then, on their way to school, she even insisted that he walk on the fence
rather than beside her… not that he cared, really. He hadn’t been exactly
pleased with her for dragging him off to school in the first place…
But... he still loved her.
He couldn’t deny it as easily as she could.
Crossing his arms, Ranma placed his head in the comfortable
crook within. Uncute tomboy... she was more trouble than she was worth, if you
asked him. With nothing better to do, he turned his attention back on Miss
Hinako, silently daring her to drain him.
…And then, a flash of memory…
…A dark
shadow, a flying cloak…
Ranma’s head shot up, and his eyes narrowed.
...Why did that make him think of his dream...?
The answer came rather suddenly. He saw the image again, as
if it were in slow motion: the figure of a body falling
to the ground, forgotten and abandoned, as the dark shadowy creature left it
behind to fly towards Akane. But it
wasn’t the creature that drew his attention this time.
“I got it!” Ranma shouted as he jumped triumphantly to his
feet.
Turning towards Akane, he grabbed her arm—ignoring her
concerned, angry protests as he proceeded to drag her out of the room. Their
classmates watched with wide-eyed, incredulous stares while Miss Hinako froze
at the chalkboard, her hand raised in midair, chalk held tightly between her
fingers.
Taking a deep breath, she released it, lowering her arm.
She’d been in enough battles with Ranma to know when he was serious, and when
he was just looking for a fight… judging by his outburst and his strange
behavior leading up to it, she knew it was pointless to chase after him now.
Quietly vowing to punish him later, she pulled out a five-yen piece, and proceeded
to drain two particularly noisy students instead.
As expected, the classroom considerably quieted after that,
and returning to the chalkboard, she continued her lecture without further
interruption.
* * *
Although Akane had stopped struggling almost immediately
after exiting the school, she still didn’t appreciate being forcefully dragged
against her will. Not without good reason, anyhow. And Ranma seemed determined
not to give her one.
“Ranma,” she asked again, for the hundredth time. “Will you please tell me what’s going on?!”
Shaking his head, he tightened his grip on her arm. “Just
wait a bit,” he answered. “I’ll explain everything when we get to Doctor
Tofu’s.”
Akane frowned at his evasive reply, but tried to resign
herself to the walk ahead. She wasn’t really
angry about being dragged out of class in the middle of their lecture: a part
of her had always known it would come to this. After all, Ranma wasn’t the type
of person to sit still while there was trouble.
And even she had
trouble concentrating in class today. Her mind kept conjuring up images from
their past... but with the images, came more and more questions. That was
really what was worrying Akane; what had her jumping at shadows, and staring
into space.
There had to be a reason for all this; a reason why they’d
suddenly started remembering. It was a distinct advantage anyway she looked at
it. So was the creature that confident…? Was it so sure they
couldn’t beat it? Glancing again at Ranma, she continued to watch him closely.
What was it he thought he knew...? And more importantly, did
he only remember because the creature wanted him to?
* * *
“There was a body,” Ranma
stated bluntly, facing Doctor Tofu. “The first time—before that damn thing took
Akane, it had some sorta body. I’m not sure if it possessed someone, or
something—or if it was a person, and then became
that shadowy-thing—but it was a person first,
somehow. Does that—could that mean anything?”
Something almost resembling a smile touched Doctor Tofu’s
lips. “Well, that would certainly make things easier to understand, wouldn’t
it? If this wasn’t some random monster at all, but instead, something somebody
conjured up, then you could very well be dealing with a spell or a curse of
some kind.”
“A curse?” Akane
asked, surprised. She knew a thing or two about curses—you had to when you
lived in Nerima and had a sex-changing fiancée—but for some reason, in this
particular case, that possibility had never once crossed her mind.
“It would certainly help explain how these incidents keep
reoccurring,” Doctor Tofu replied. “However, a curse that strong would require
very powerful magic as well as some sort of trigger. Much like the cursed
springs of Jusenkyo requires cold water to activate.”
“So… if we can find whoever summoned that monster—or cursed
us or whatever—then we should be able to figure out how to stop it? Right?”
“Well, logically,” said Doctor Tofu slowly, unprepared to
commit himself fully to his answer. “But that’s only if this is a curse you’re dealing with… though
from everything you’ve told me of your dreams, it is highly likely. Of course,
it’s impossible to know anything for sure,” he told them, his voice lowering as
he adopted the tone he normally used when dealing with patients. “First, you’d
have to find the source of the curse. Otherwise, this is all just theory.”
“A theory’s better than nothing, doc,” Ranma said, climbing
to his feet. “At least now we’ve got something to focus on. We’ve just gotta
find the guy that summoned that thing, that’s all.”
Akane looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “That’s all?” she
asked, sounding exasperated. “Do you even know how we’d go about doing that,
Ranma? What if the person who cast it, isn’t even here? And even if they are,”
she continued flatly, “how would we go about finding them? For all we know, they could be leading perfectly
normal lives, and not remember a thing. We might not even know them.”
Ranma visibly deflated at that, feeling slightly more
discouraged. She was right, he realized. After all, they couldn’t very well go
door to door, demanding answers. Well, they could—but
he knew Akane would never go for it.
“Actually,” Doctor Tofu said, coming to Ranma’s aid, “it’s
very likely that you do know the person, Akane. A spell of such power... well,
it would be impossible for the caster not
to be connected to you in some way. Of course,” he quickly added, “I’m not
saying that they have to play a necessarily large role in your lives… but they
are, most likely, present in it. A curse, you see, is binding to everyone involved. So checking out any
possible suspects, including this body you saw in your dreams—well, it wouldn’t
be a bad place to start.”
Turning to his fiancée, Ranma grinned. “See?” he said,
sticking his tongue out at her.
Ignoring the jibe, Akane frowned. She still wasn’t convinced
that this wasn’t all some wild goose chase; but pushing her doubts aside, she
turned to Doctor Tofu. “Do you think you could keep looking into that creature
for us, Doctor?” she asked. “The more we learn about our opponent, the better.”
Smiling warmly, he nodded. “I’ll do what I can,” he promised.
* * *
It had only been five minutes. But it felt like much longer…
She watched Ranma closely; afraid that if she looked away
even for a moment, she might turn to see him gone.
Ever since they’d left Doctor Tofu’s, he’d been acting
strangely—more subdued, more distant. He hadn’t spoken once about his plans to
find the person from his memories—the one who could be responsible for
everything they’d been through. And instead of trying to take her hand and walk
beside her like he’d done that morning, he had jumped immediately onto the
railing of the fence, his back to her, careful to keep a little distance
between them.
With a sinking feeling, she realized he was using her own tactics
against her...
Normally, such an affront would have made her angry—this
time, however, she knew she deserved it. Though honestly, his behavior couldn’t
have come at a worse time: here she was, ready to put
it all behind her and move on... and he was still being stubborn.
Yet every time she opened her mouth to apologize—to explain
why she had acted the way she had—she ended up embarrassed or frustrated and
closed her mouth without saying a word.
How could she explain it to him when she couldn’t even
explain it to herself...?
But the longer she stalled, the more the silence between them
grew. She could tell he was coming closer to his breaking point: his entire
body was tense, his back rigid, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides.
She was sure he wanted to say something, but by will alone, was keeping it to
himself.
Feeling the pressure to say something—anything—Akane smiled as the answer suddenly presented itself.
After all... if he could use her
techniques, then surely, she could use some of his.
And the art of avoidance was one of Ranma’s specialties.
“You’re such a dummy,” she said at last, comfortable in
territory she was more familiar with. “Why are you walking up there, anyway?”
Ranma, as predictable as ever, stopped walking and turned to
eye her warily. But Akane didn’t stop. Instead, she began to swing her book-bag
cheerfully back and forth (the perfect guise of happiness) as she passed him.
Ranma, not to be outdone, jumped off the fence and ran to
catch up with her. Once he had, however, he quickly realized he had no idea what to do next; being angry in
an attempt to force her to apologize (or better yet beg for his forgiveness)
didn’t seem to be working.
Finally, sighing, he crossed his arms behind his head. “Man,”
he mock-sighed, “you’d think remembering our past lives woulda gave me some kinda insight into the way you
think. But jeez, Akane—you still
confuse me today just as much as you did the first time we met.”
In reply, smiling, Akane tried to hit him a couple times with
her schoolbag, only to have him playfully dodge each and every attempt.
“Dummy,” she said, laughing softly.
Finally, growing serious, Ranma caught her bag in his hands,
quickly bringing their game to an end. “Do you have any idea who it could be?”
he asked suddenly, releasing her satchel.
Caught off guard by the abruptness of the question, Akane
looked down at the pavement, shaking her head. In truth, she did have several
names in mind—Shampoo, Kodachi, and Ukyo among them—but she knew Ranma probably
wouldn’t appreciate her accusing all
of his fiancées at once.
Though really... who had better reason to want her dead then
them?
“I’ve been thinking it might be Kuno,” Ranma told her,
apparently having no such qualms himself. “Or maybe Ryoga,” he added
thoughtfully. Uncomfortable memories of the wishing sword and the fishing rod
of love instantly came to mind. “Both of them are definitely stupid enough to
try something dangerous like that, anyway.”
“Ryoga wouldn’t do that, Ranma,” Akane told him. “And Kuno
doesn’t have any reason to want me dead. I’d sooner believe it was Kodachi or
Shampoo—at least they have motives.”
Ranma grinned as he took a step towards her. “Yeah, but
you’re forgetting something important,” he told her, reveling in the knowledge
that he knew something she didn’t. “Whoever cast this was initially after me, remember? You got hit on the
rebound.”
Akane stopped dead in her tracks, and her mouth fell open
wordlessly. That’s right, a part of her realized… the
creature had said something to that effect, hadn’t he? It was Ranma, it had been after—not her.
She grew cold and numb at the thought.
...She was going through all of this because of some mistake...?
Ranma grew silent as well, as if just comprehending what he
had said. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, angrily. “I really am an idiot.”
“No,” Akane said quickly, frustrated to feel tears in her
eyes. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m the idiot. I’ve been acting like a—a fool. I tried to pretend none of this was happening… that
everything was normal… and I knew
that it wasn’t, but I couldn’t seem to stop doing it.”
Ranma took a small step towards her. Slowly, hesitantly, he
reached towards her face and gently wiped away the tears that had escaped.
“Dummy,” he told her. “I can’t blame you for wanting to act like nothin’
happened, Akane. Hell, I wanna pretend the same thing. But
we both know pretendings not gonna solve anything.”
“I know,” Akane replied. She could feel her eyes burning
again, as more tears threatened to escape. Closing her eyes tightly, she fought
against them.
Since when had she become so weak…?
Without a word, Ranma took a step closer, quietly pulling her
into his arms. To his relief she didn’t pull away or protest, but instead, actually
seemed to welcome the contact; encouraged, Ranma held her tighter. “I meant
what I said,” he whispered, his tone serious and soft. “I’m going to protect
you no matter what, Akane.”
Silently, she nodded against him; finally allowing the tears
to flow freely.
She knew he meant every word… and yet… a part of her was
still afraid it wouldn’t be enough.
***
Ranma 1/2 is the property and creation of Rumiko Takahashi
and whoever else owns it. I'm not making any money off this so don't sue me.
Besides, I'm broke.
***
She Walks in Beauty
~Part 3~
***
I spent all my life
Looking for our innocence
I've got nothing to lose
One thing to prove
I won't make the same mistakes
Now I know
That everything will be okay
When I die tomorrow
If I die tomorrow
As the minutes fade away
I can't remember
Have I said all I can say?
You're my everything
You make me feel so alive
If I die tomorrow
-Motley Crue
***
“No,” Akane told him firmly even as she rolled her eyes. “You
can’t just go and bust down Kuno’s door. We won’t get anywhere if you just
march in blindly and start demanding answers!”
“Aww, come on,” Ranma complained. “How else are we gonna get
him to fess up?”
“Dummy,” she sighed, a small smile working its way to the
corners of her lips. “Haven’t you learned anything as a girl? A little friendly
persuasion can go a long way. If we go there as Akane and the Pig-tailed Girl,
I’m sure he’ll be happy to tell us everything we need to know.”
Crossing his arms, Ranma frowned. Damn. He couldn’t deny the
logic of her plan... but it sure took the fun out of the questioning process. Laying down on the dojo floor, he listened to the sound of
rain pounding against the roof, hoping for sudden inspiration. The last thing
he wanted was to use his girl-side to play into Kuno’s sick
fantasies—especially when the reward was questionable, at best.
After all… there was still a chance Kuno wasn’t the one.
And there were many, many
possible candidates—and all of them, he knew, could be just as dangerously
single-minded as Kuno.
The problem, Ranma realized, was figuring out what to do if
Kuno wasn’t their man.
“Fine,” he said at last, resigned. There was no point in
arguing with her anyway; in the end, he knew she’d get her way. Pushing against
the floor with his feet, he sprang up into a standing position. “Let’s get going
then. No point in wasting time.”
Akane nodded and stood, but suddenly stopped, surprised to
see Kasumi standing in the entrance way. Ranma, noting her surprise, turned to
see the eldest Tendo daughter, holding a small square box in her hands.
“Ah, I found this package for you Akane,” she told her,
moving into the room. “It was just sitting there, by the front gate.”
“What is it?” Akane asked, her eyes examining the package as
she took it from her sister. She could see her name written shabbily across the
top flap.
“I’m not sure,” Kasumi replied. “Perhaps someone wanted to
give you an early birthday present. That’s always nice.” Smiling sweetly, she
dusted her hands on our apron, and then turned to head back towards the house.
“Well, I better get back to my shopping. Enjoy your present, Akane.”
Ranma and Akane barely heard her: both of their eyes were
focused on the package, silently trying to determine what lay inside. Shifting
it lightly in her palms, the first thing Akane noticed was how light the box
felt. For a brief moment, she wondered if it might be empty.
“Well,” Ranma interrupted, sounding impatient and curious.
“Aren’t ya gonna open it?”
“Of course I am.” Lifting one of the tiny flaps, Akane opened
the top, surprised to see a small bag sitting at the bottom of the box.
“What is it?” Ranma asked, peering inside.
“I’m not sure,” she replied, lifting it out of its case. There
was a knot holding the bag closed, but after gently pulling on one of its ends,
it opened easily.
Inside, was a pile of some white, powdery substance.
Akane didn’t dare touch it: she had enough experience with
strange potions and powders, thanks to Shampoo and
“Hey, something’s still in there,” Ranma told her, pointing
to the side of the box where a tiny sheet of paper was folded over, flush
against the side. Drawing it out, Akane unraveled it, and read the words out
loud for Ranma to hear.
Akane
Tendo, please use this protective powder.
“That’s weird,” she said, after reading aloud the poorly
written kanji. “Why would someone send me this?” Handing the paper to her
fiancée, she frowned. “Do you recognize the writing, Ranma?”
Looking it over quickly, he shook his head. “Nope—though
their writing’s worse than mine. Kinda strange they didn’t sign it.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Akane closed the bag once again and dropped
it back into its box. “Well, it’s a nice gesture anyway. I wonder who sent it.”
“Ah, who knows,” Ranma replied, no longer sounding interested.
“We gotta get goin’ though. We still have to question Kuno.”
Akane nodded and prepared to follow him out of the dojo and
towards the main house—until she was unexpectedly stopped. Soun Tendo stood
before them, holding a long, cylinder object in his hands.
“Akane, Ranma, I’m glad I ran into you,” he told them as he handed
them the strange looking object. “This was left in the yard. I assume it’s for the
both of you, since it has both your names on it. Strange way
to deliver a package though, if you ask me.”
“Thanks, dad,” Akane said, looking at the object with suspicion.
She had recognized the writing almost immediately—the same horrible script that
had been on the other, and again it was unsigned. Definitely suspicious, she decided. When she turned to look at Ranma,
she noticed a similar expression on his face too.
Not wasting a second more, she swiftly tore off the paper
that was covering the object, surprised to see two long, thin parchments rolled
firmly together beneath the wrapping. Akane quickly grabbed the scroll bearing
her own name, and handed Ranma’s his.
When she had finished completely unraveling it, she found a
small talisman lying in the center of the parchment, the character for
long-life engraved on its shiny surface.
Ranma meanwhile, stood glowering at his. It was old and brown
with age, and a tiny corner had even broken off—yet strangely, the character
for loneliness and misery could still be seen clearly in the center.
“What the hell,” he muttered,
crinkling up the parchment his gift came in before throwing it to the ground.
“Who does this jerk think he is?”
“Dummy,” Akane replied, her eyes
glued to the small trinket. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Kicking at the newly formed trash at his feet, Ranma lifted
his eyes to his fiancée. “What is?” he asked testily.
“This obviously has got to do with our past,” Akane told him,
her grip on the scroll tightening. “This can’t be some sort of coincidence, can
it? Long life, protection… they must know what’s going to happen. Why else
would they send us these?!”
Any further debate was cut off as Nabiki came sauntering in.
“Here,” she said, throwing a beaded bracelet at her younger sister. “I found
this at school. It has your name on it, so I can only assume it’s for you.”
“Geez, what is it now?” Ranma groaned.
Akane looked closely at the bracelet. “Hey, these are
supposed to bring good luck,” she said, fingering the small round beads. “I’ve
seen these at some of the local temples with Yuka and Sayuri.” She turned back
to her sister. “Nabiki, do you know who left this for me? It’s very important.”
Nabiki shrugged. “Some girl from your class found it by your
desk. She couldn’t find you so she asked me to give it to you instead… but it definitely
didn’t sound like she knew who it was from, so I wouldn’t hold my breath if I
were you.”
Akane frowned. She should have known it wouldn’t be that
easy. “Well, I suppose we could go to one of the shrines and see if they
remember who bought it,” she said, trying to look optimistic. “It’s worth a
try, at least.”
“Okay,” Ranma said as he grabbed her wrist and dragged her
out into the rain. He barely noticed the change coming over him—his mind was completely
focused on the task at hand.
They
had him!
* * *
It was the seventh temple they’d checked, and still they were no closer to finding the
mysterious buyer than when they’d first started their search. Feeling
miserable, Akane leaned against a brick column; her earlier optimism had long
since faded two temples ago.
“So, you don’t remember selling any of these?” Ranma asked
again, holding up the miscellaneous items.
The maiden smiled apologetically as she shook her head once
again. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, “but we sell so many, it’s hard to remember
specific people. Sorry I can’t be of more help.”
“Nah, it’s fine,” Ranma said, though his voice was a bit more
hostile than he had intended. Bowing, the shrine maiden quickly hurried away as
Ranma turned back to Akane. “What now?” he asked her, echoing her position
against the column.
“Well, there’s still two more shrines near here we could
check out,” she said dejectedly. “But I doubt we’ll have any more luck there
than we did at the last one hundred places.”
Sighing, Ranma grabbed her hand and practically dragged her
from the temple entrance. “Come on,” he said, walking quickly. “We have to be
at Doctor Tofu’s soon, so we should have enough time left to hit those last two
places first. ‘Sides, we can’t show up empty handed.”
Too tired to argue, Akane allowed herself to be pulled along.
* * *
As expected, the next temple was a dead end. “Sure, we’ve
sold those, but I can’t recall every person who purchases something here.
Sorry.” Ranma and Akane nodded, expressing their thanks as they slowly walked
away; neither could say they were especially surprised by the results.
Their expectations, by this point, were low, and their
patience was quickly wearing thin. And when they came upon the last temple on
their list—their last chance—they felt what little hope they’d managed to
maintain, disappear.
Old and run-down, the temple had seen better days. Unlike the
previous shrines which were beautifully built and carefully maintained—this one
left much to be desired. Its main building was crumbling, and pieces of the
supporting columns were missing.
Even the head of the shrine that greeted them upon their
arrival, was faring no better: he was bent low as he walked, holding a cane in
his left hand—his old, gray robes hanging loose over his body, trailing to the
ground. And he had large shadows under his eyes and liver spots all over his
body, while his hair—what he had left of it—was standing in all different
directions.
Not expecting any real help, both were pleasantly surprised
when the old man nodded as he held the trinkets in his hands, assuring them he
recognized them.
“Sure do,” he told them, nodding enthusiastically. “That
would be my grandson. Seems he’s got himself a girlfriend,” he said, winking
conspiratorially.
“Do you know where he is?” Akane asked, getting excited.
The old man smiled a toothless grin, as he pointed his cane
in the direction of the prayer room. “He’s in there,” he told them. “Been there most of the day, far as I know. Parents sent him
here hoping to snap him out of some strange, unhealthy addiction. Seems to be
working too!” he added happily.
Quickly thanking him, Ranma and Akane headed where the old
man had pointed, their hearts beating in unison as they approached the small
room… neither knowing quite what to expect. And there, within the white-washed
walls, was Hikaru Gosunkugi, kneeling beside the shrine, a pair of prayer beads
in his hands.
Akane’s mouth fell open in surprise, and she stared in
wide-eyed disbelief at their often shy, quiet classmate. Her eyes drifted down
to the items she held in her hand, not believing—not understanding. This didn’t
make any sense. Everyone knew Gosunkugi was into voodoo… so what was he doing
here?
Ranma was quicker to recover from his shock; a look of
undeniable fury had quickly taken its place as he suddenly remembered details
from his memories—passing moments with this young man he’d always thought
insignificant and unimportant.
Now everything made sense. Ranma cursed himself for not
figuring it out sooner.
He had to force himself not to lunge at the other boy—to
remind himself again and again, that he wasn’t a martial artist. But if Ranma
didn’t get some real good answers
from Gosunkugi, then he would love to
make an exception...
In barely controlled anger, he said, “Mind telling me what
the hell is going on?”
The other boy’s entire body went tense, and slowly—so very
slowly, he turned around, his eyes wide in shock and fear.
“Start talking,” Ranma said, his eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Why did you send us this stuff? Do you know...?” He let his last words hang in
the air, already knowing the answer. But it was important to have that final
confirmation; to hear it spoken out loud.
But all this time, Akane had remained quiet, silently
watching the other boy uncomfortably, feeling sick and confused. A part of her
was praying now that it was all a coincidence; that he wouldn’t do something so
awful—that it was all some kind of mistake.
Kuno she
could believe—some stranger even, but—but Gosunkugi?
She barely even knew him! Sure, he was strange, and might have had a small
crush on her... but she couldn’t understand why anyone—especially him—would go
to such lengths. Though, the more she thought about it, the more sense it made.
He had always been into voodoo, into spells and charms. But she had always
found him harmless...
“Well,” Ranma continued, quickly growing impatient, “start
talking already.”
Gosunkugi didn’t need any further motivation. With a long,
shuddering sob, the boy that no one seemed to notice—the one who many people
ignored and disregarded, finally started to talk. And Ranma and Akane quietly
listened.
* * *
On
her sixteenth birthday, I saw Emi for the first time. She was standing at the
top of the stairs, wearing a long, black dress—smiling and laughing, as she
spoke with her father and her sisters.
…I
couldn’t take my eyes off her…
She
was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen: everything she did radiated beauty. It was a part of her,
something no other girl could ever hope to equal—she walked in beauty.
And
then, that night when her eyes met mine, I felt like I couldn’t breathe, that
my heart would never slow down, and that I would never get that image of her
out of my mind again.
Out
of all the faces in the crowd—out of all the people she could have seen— she
looked at me.
It
was only for a second, but I knew she must have felt something.
After
that, not a moment passed when I didn’t think of her—not a day went by when I
wasn’t dreaming of her, of longing to make her mine, and mine alone.
…But
then she met Daichi...
The
day I was told about the rumors—about their inevitable engagement, it felt like
my heart had been torn from my chest. I knew I had no chance of winning her
now—not with him in the picture.
And
he didn’t deserve her.
Not
Emi. Not MY Emi.
…And
just when I thought all hope was lost…
It
was by chance that I found it—my master’s old book, the one he had forbid me
from ever reading. He kept it safely locked away, in a box that was protected
by powerful magic—complex spells I could never hope to unlock.
Powerful,
that is, as long as it remained locked away.
And
then it happened: one day when I wasn’t expected, I saw to my astonishment and
delight, the forbidden book, lying before me—open, inviting. It called to me
from its place on my master’s table.
Unable
to resist the temptation, I read all I could, eagerly searching
for something I could use.
And
then I found it: a spell that could get you your heart’s desire.
All
I ever wanted was Emi.
Without
fear or regret, I read aloud the enchanted words… unmindful of my master’s
wrath, or the price it would cost me for using such powerful, forbidden magic.
I
was in love, and desperate. And this was my last chance.
I
didn’t know it was a summoning spell—that it was a way to conjure up a powerful
demon that had been safely locked away for eons. If I had, I never would have
gone through with it.
And
the demon, it terrified me.
…but
it said it could get me what I desired most…
So
I followed its orders and received its commands, allowing it to become my new
master. And the first thing my master said we needed to do was to get rid of
Daichi…
*
* *
Gosunkugi lowered his head. “That’s the last thing I
remember,” he told them, shifting closer to the shrine. “It must have possessed
me soon after that. The only other thing I remember is waking up after it was all
over—after, after Emi was dead, and the demon was gone.” He paused for a
moment, his eyes dark with regret and anger. “The demon,” he continued slowly,
with difficulty, “it never meant to help me. It was just using me.”
Ranma walked purposefully towards him, and raising his hand, slapped
him across the face with his open palm. “Idiot!” he shouted, visibly shaking.
“Do you have any idea what you did? Because of your stupidity that thing latched itself onto Akane!”
Gosunkugi shrank away from him, clearly terrified. “I—I
didn’t mean to—” he faltered, his eyes wide.
Akane quickly stepped forward, moving so that she was
standing between the two boys. “Ranma, stop it,” she commanded, her voice hard.
“Yelling at him won’t get us anywhere. Gosunkugi,” she continued, her eyes on
him, “do you have any idea how to stop it?”
Looking miserable, he shook his head. “No,” he replied so very
softly. “Ever since I remembered, I’ve been looking but—but I haven’t found a
thing.”
Akane took a long, deep breath, She
was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her anger in check. “Let’s go,”
she said quickly, turning away from Gosunkugi and back to Ranma. “Maybe we’ll
have better luck with Doctor Tofu.”
Gosunkugi visibly relaxed; no doubt glad the interrogation
was over. But Ranma, grabbing his arm, hauled him to his feet. “Don’t think
you’re off the hook yet,” he told him. “You’re coming with us.”
Whimpering, Gosunkugi allowed himself to be dragged away,
knowing from experience that struggling was useless. Even the thought of being
in Akane Tendo’s presence wasn’t enough to relay his fears. His mind was busy
conjuring up images of all the damage Ranma would do to him once he realized
there was no way to save her.
His Grandfather cheerfully waved goodbye as he watched them
leave the temple, no doubt thrilled that Hikaru appeared to have found friends.
* * *
Luckily, it didn’t take them long to reach Doctor Tofu’s: the
chill, hostile air surrounding them had become almost palpable. As expected, the
older man was waiting for them as they entered his office, one extra person in
tow.
“Well,” Doctor Tofu said, surprised to see the extra visitor.
“Who do we have here?”
Ranma pushed the frightened pale boy forward, who immediately
looked down at the ground. “Meet the guy who ruined our lives,” Ranma said, his
voice filled with bitterness. “Hikaru Gosunkugi.”
Tofu smiled kindly for the newest guest. “Pleased to meet
you, Gosunkugi-kun,” he told him, bowing in greeting. “So,” he continued,
turning his attention to Ranma and Akane. “What did you two happen to find
out?”
Akane was kind enough to fill him in on everything Gosunkugi
had told them, while Ranma was preoccupied throwing death-glares in his
direction every few seconds. When it was all over, Doctor Tofu leaned back,
looking confused.
“That’s odd,” he told them, shaking his head. “If this demon
was known to be extremely powerful, surely it would have been able to directly
accomplish its task: why take the trouble of getting Daichi out of the way,
when he should have been able to affect Akane directly?”
“Hey, I never thought of that,” Ranma said, quickly turning
to Gosunkugi. “Well?” he questioned. “Did the demon say anything else? Like,
why he couldn’t just snap his fingers and make her fall in love with you or
something?”
At that, life seemed to return to Gosunkugi: his eyes lit up,
and suddenly, he was smiling. “He—he did try something,” he told them suddenly.
“Soon after I summoned him—after I told him what I wanted—he tried some kind of
spell. But, but I don’t think it worked. He looked angry afterwards—but then,
got excited, saying something about a thread of some sort. And that’s when he
told me we’d have to get rid of Daichi first.”
Suddenly Doctor Tofu smacked his hand in his palm. “That’s
it!” he said, sounding excited. “I can’t believe I missed it before!” Without
wasting a moment, the good doctor stood up, and making his way towards his
bookcase, grabbed a large leather-bound book from off the highest shelf. “It’s
somewhere in here, I think,” he said, more to himself than to them. After
flipping through several hundred pages, suddenly he stopped, and grinning
triumphantly, pushed his glasses up higher along the ridge of his nose. “Here
it is,” he said, placing the book flat on the table before them.
It was only a small paragraph, with one word in bold followed
closely by a short description. “I’m embarrassed that I never thought of it
before,” he told them, motioning towards the large book. “This is a book on
mythical demons and gods. It was given to me by my great-great grandmother
years ago. Unfortunately, I’ve never been very interested in this particular
subject which is why it took me so long to remember. But if you’d care to read
it aloud, Ranma, I think you’ll realize why this section specifically, stood out
in my mind.”
Ranma, looking thoroughly confused, immediately complied, and
bending low over the book read the short paragraph aloud.
Fate: A
force that is said to predetermine a person’s life; often seen as inescapable
and unchangeable. This concept has been exemplified in many different ways: The
Fates of Greek Mythology, The Red String of Fate, or Manifest Destiny, an
American concept, to name a few.
“The key word here,” Tofu continued at Ranma’s blank and
confused look, “is unchangeable. When something is said to be determined by
fate, no one is supposed to be allowed to alter it. Even in Greek Myths, Zeus
and the Gods were not permitted to control or alter it at their whims; they too
were at the mercy of The Fates. The Red String then, is an extension of that
same idea. Since you and Akane are joined by fate, the demon’s magic was unable
to touch you, and that’s why it couldn’t fulfill Gosunkugi’s wish.”
“But how did it manage to curse us then?” Akane asked,
puzzled.
“I believe,” Doctor Tofu went on uncomfortably, “that the
creature, in some way, used Gosunkugi’s wish to latch itself onto you by way of
your red string. That, at least, would explain why it’s been able to find you
in every life: it’s been connected to you this whole time. That shadow,” he
explained, staring at the point where it was glowing brightest, “is the demon.”
“Why hasn’t Akane Tendo fallen in love with me then?”
Gosunkugi complained, temporarily forgetting they were in the room with him. “I
summoned it—it should still be forced to do my bidding!”
“Idiot,” Akane replied angrily, beating Ranma to the punch.
“I wouldn’t fall in love with you if you were the last boy on Earth. No amount
of magic could change that!”
“Technically, he is
fulfilling your wish,” Tofu told him, ignoring the squabbling teenagers. “Since
he can’t force Akane to love you, he’s doing the only other thing he can:
keeping her away from the one fate’s promised her to.” Taking a deep breath, he
prepared himself for what he was about to say next. “You said, Ranma, that the creature made a mistake… that it was
initially you it had intended to kill. If that’s true, then that could explain
why it keeps coming back. Since it took Akane by accident, it’s unable to
complete its debt to Gosunkugi—and until the circle is broken, I believe it
will continue in much the same way.”
“Okay,” Ranma said slowly, taking it all in. “So how do we do
that then? Nothing else we’ve tried has done much good.”
“There are only two ways that I can think of,” he told them.
“Though I must remind you that these are theories only,
and pure conjecture on my part. But, I’m afraid to say, neither of you will
like either of these options. One,” he said, continuing on despite his
reluctance. “The demon must willingly accomplish the task it set out to do:
namely, kill Ranma instead of Akane.”
The color drained from Akane’s face at that, and Ranma’s jaw
tightened.
“This, however, is highly unlikely,” Doctor Tofu told them.
“If it wanted to complete its debt, it would have done so already. I assume
that getting to come out of hiding once a lifetime in order to kill, is more than it could have ever hoped for. It knows
that once it completes the task, it’ll be forced once again into confinement
until someone new summons him.”
“And the second option?” Akane
asked nervously, knowing she wasn’t going to like this one any more than the
last.
Doctor Tofu closed the large leather bound book and paused
for a moment, looking apologetic. “The only other option I can think of, is for you to sever the one thing that is keeping the
demon connected to you.”
Akane heart grew heavy at that, and her chest began to ache. “You...
you’re talking about breaking the string.”
Doctor Tofu nodded. “It’s the only conceivable way I can
think of,” he told her sadly.
“So then,” Ranma said after a moment’s pause. “How do we cut
it?”
“Ranma!” Akane
yelled, surprised and hurt. “Do you have any
idea what you’re saying?!”
“Dummy,” he shot back, “of course I do. Did you think I’d
just sit back and let that bastard take you again when there’s a way to stop
it?”
“You’re the dummy!
If you cut the red string then we’ll never—I won’t ever,” she paused, having
trouble forming the words. Exasperated, she shook her head. Speaking softly she
said: “Our time together would end as Ranma and Akane, stupid.”
“Don’t care,” he said stubbornly, turning away. “If I can
just be with you in this life, I’ll
be happy.” Again addressing Doctor Tofu, he asked, “How do we cut it?”
“Actually, I’m not even sure if you can,” Doctor Tofu told
him, having the good sense to look embarrassed. “I’ve seen many lines that have
been cut, of course, but I can’t be sure how they ended up that way—some, I
assume are because of death. The other way, I’m afraid, is actually more of a
legend than anything, so I can’t be sure if it’s genuine or not.”
Grabbing the same heavy tome, he quickly flipped through the
pages, clearly searching for something. Then, his eyes widened and a smile
lighted his face as he stopped. “Here,” he said, holding the page open for all
of them to see. “This is your answer.”
It was a picture of a pair of scissors.
Ranma frowned, and leaned back in his chair, clearly
disappointed. “That’s it?” he asked, his voice flat. “Some scissors? That’s the big secret?”
“I—I have some scissors at home you can use,” Gosunkugi
offered.
Tofu smiled kindly at them, but shook his head. “These are a
special kind of scissors,” he explained, motioning once again to the image on
the page. “These are the only scissors in existence which are said to be able
to cut through the red string of fate. It’s unlikely that you’d find them
sitting at home someplace.”
“You said this is just a legend though, right?” Akane asked,
sounding uncertain. “Doesn’t that mean they might not really exist?”
“Well, I’ve never seen them personally,” he replied. “All I
know is what I’ve read. But,” he continued with more confidence, “I don’t see
why such a thing shouldn’t exist.
We’ve certainly come across stranger things.”
Akane visibly deflated at that, but Ranma looked encouraged,
and for the first time, hopeful. “Maybe the old letch or the old ghoul will
know where we can find ‘em. They’re always finding weird stuff like that!”
“There is, however, one small drawback,” Doctor Tofu said
slowly, haltingly. “The book mentions that to mess with fate has serious
consequences, and to do so, requires a certain price—what that price is,
however, the book doesn’t say.”
“A price?” Akane
questioned. “I wonder what that means...”
“Ah, who cares,” Ranma said, standing up. “It’s probably
something stupid anyway—‘sides, we gotta worry about how to find the thing first; we can worry about
the rest later.”
“Fate—it’s very strong,” Gosunkugi spoke up timidly. “I don’t
think it’s a good idea to take such a warning lightly—” an angry glare from
Ranma had him quickly shutting his mouth, and quietly retreating to a safe
distance across the room once more, “—or not,” he finished lamely.
“I’m afraid Gosunkugi may be correct, Ranma,” Doctor Tofu
said, picking up the book. “Messing with fate can be very dangerous; you may
want to consider what it is you’re willing to lose before pinning all of your
hopes on those scissors. If the price turns out to be higher than you bargained
for then you’ll have no alternative when the creature finally returns.”
“It’s probably just our first newborn son or somethin’,”
Ranma replied, waving the concern away. “Truth is, we ain’t got no other
weapon. The scissors are our last hope—so no matter the price, I’ll pay it.”
“Ranma...”
“Come on, Akane,” he told her, grabbing her hand and pulling
her to her feet. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and Happosai will have the scissors
back at the Dojo. He’s got so much junk, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re
just sitting somewhere in his room.”
“Wait Ranma,” Akane replied, dragging her feet. Turning to
Doctor Tofu, she smiled apologetically. “Could we please have a copy of the
picture, Doctor Tofu? It might help us track them down if we know exactly what
it is we’re looking for.”
“Of course, Akane,” he replied, standing up, book in hand. “I
have a copier in my office. I’ll be right back.”
Gosunkugi, meanwhile, had been practicing being invisible. It
hadn’t taken him long to find a dark corner in the room in which to hide
himself; though it didn’t seem to be working too well. Several minute after
Tofu had left, he had instantly felt their eyes on him; Saotome’s, angry and
accusing; Akane Tendo’s, confused and hurt.
Swallowing nervously, he tried to bury himself deeper within
the gloom, unprepared to face the guilt such looks incurred. Even the fact that
Akane Tendo was finally paying attention to him, wasn’t enough to ally his
fears...
Yet, despite his worries, a part of him—the part that was
still clinging to the hope that he hadn’t lost yet, that he still had a chance
of defeating Saotome—felt oddly encouraged as well.
“Mistakes
have a way of fixing themselves.”
His teacher used to say.
“There
are no such things as mistakes in the world of magic.
It
is one of the things which make it so powerful and so perfect.”
He had always found that thought reassuring: but after losing
Emi in every life, just like Daichi, he had been hard-pressed to believe it.
But now, finally, it looked like his master may have been right after all!
Although he had made a small
mistake in the summoning spell—a mistake which, though minor, had proved
detrimental in turning the spell on Emi rather than its intended target—it now
looked like everything would work out in his favor.
If they could just find that special pair of scissors, then
they could kill the demon and eliminate the thing that was connecting Emi and
Daichi together once and for all.
...Then Emi would finally be his...
A smile crept across Gosunkugi’s face, and his body shook
with hushed, silent laugher; but if Ranma or Akane happened to notice, neither
chose to say a word.
* * *
“Come on, ya old freak, just hand ‘em over already!”
Happosai jumped over Ranma’s outstretched arm, easily
avoiding another punch, that this time, was aimed right for his head. Akane
sighed from her place on the dojo floor, quickly growing tired of the familiar
scene. Honestly, she was starting to doubt he even had the stupid scissors...
“Bwa-ha-ha-ha!”
Happosai cackled, sticking his tongue out at his young disciple as he continued
to goad him on. “You want the scissors? You have to catch me first, nya ha!”
“Consider it done!” Ranma shot back, launching himself at the
old letch...
...Or, at least he tried
to. The place where Happosai had been standing only moments before was suddenly
empty; and then Ranma felt an unwelcome weight on his head, followed by a rush
of cold water cascading down his body.
Before Ranma knew what was happening, she was soaked and
female.
“A peace offering,” Happosai said, dangling a white lacy bra
before Ranma’s eyes from his comfortable perch atop her head. “Try it on: then
we can leave this whole nasty business behind us.”
“Die, you old freak!”
“You... you don’t like my gift...?”
Akane rolled her eyes as she climbed to her feet, making her
way to the “fighting” morons in the center of the room.
“Enough!” she said, hitting Happosai hard on the head.
The old goat turned to her, eyes wide with unshed tears.
“Akane-chan,” he sniveled, disbelieving, “you hit me.”
Both teenagers watched, unmoved, as the old man’s lips began
to tremble.
He stood that way for several long moments: shaking pitifully
as he waited for sympathy that showed no signs of coming. Finally, bored with
the lack of response, his eyes once again returned to the one brassiere he held
in his hand. And then, an epiphany came…
A smile came to his face, and smacking his hand in his palm
at his sudden revelation, he quickly withdrew another lacy bra.
“I’m sorry, Akane-chan,” he sniffled, holding the new pink
bra out to her, his eyes shining with happiness. “We can’t have you feeling
left out. Here you go—your very own!”
Akane eyes narrowed angrily as she looked closely at the bra.
“Hey!” she shouted, grabbing it from his hands. “This one is mine!”
“Oops!”
Ranma’s fists clenched. “Damn filthy pervert! Come back
here!”
“Wa-ha-ha! Not a
chance!”
Easily avoiding every attack Ranma threw his way, Happosai
reached deftly into his pocket, and pulling out a handkerchief with practiced
ease, tied it securely around his face. Then, jumping over the younger boy’s
head once again, he landed on the ground and bolted straight for the door. But
not before yelling over his shoulder—which now, oddly, seemed to be supporting
a large sack—“Can’t be late for my raid, me boy! We’ll havta finish this
later!”
And just like that, the old pervert was gone. The only sign
that he had been there at all, was the forgotten picture of the scissors that
now lay abandoned on the floor.
* * *
“He didn’t have the scissors, Ranma,” Akane said, as she
opened the door to her room. “If he did, he wouldn’t have bothered goading you
with the picture. He would’ve hurried to get the real thing and then waved it
in front of your face.”
Ranma sighed. “Yeah, I know,” he said, following her into the
room. “But I was so sure the old goat had it—”
“—You’re such a dummy, Ranma,” Akane
told him, shaking her head. “Why would you pin all your hopes on Happosai?”
“I didn’t!” he said defensively, closing the door loudly for
emphasis. “Besides, there’s still the Old Ghoul.”
“And if
Ranma went quiet for a moment, and finally shook his head.
“She’ll have it. Or—or at least she’ll know where we can find it.”
“If it even exists at all,” Akane added quietly, sitting down
in the chair by her desk. “Either way, it’s too late to go to the Nekohanten
now,” she told him, cutting him off before he could protest. “Tomorrow morning
we’ll go and question
...Tomorrow...
That one word brought back all the fear and doubt he’d been
trying to push to the back of his mind since his memory returned. Now, he felt
a sudden tightening in his chest, and his body felt cold and uncomfortable; how
could he allow himself to forget something so important?
Lowering himself to the edge of her bed, he swallowed
nervously as he looked at her. “Tomorrow,” he said softly, his eyes on hers.
“It’s your birthday, Akane...”
…We
might not have more time…
“Oh,” she said, laughing uneasily, trying to sound
unconcerned. “I didn’t realize it was so soon.” An awkward silence settled
between them, something which had become more and more frequent within the last
few days. Finally, shifting uncomfortably in her chair, Akane frowned. “Can we…
let’s not think about that, okay?” she said, turning to gaze out the window.
Ranma noticed it immediately: the way her hands shook
ever-so-slightly, tightly clasped in her lap. And the way her eyes were focused
intently on the window, feigning an interest in something only she could see.
And he was about to open his mouth to say something—anything that would get her to smile for
him—when the soft sound of her voice cut him off.
“I love
you, Ranma.”
Slowly, she turned to look at him, and he could see the tears
slowly gathering in her eyes. Everything that had happened that day—all the
doubts, the insecurities, the fears—everything came rushing back, more
powerful, more painful.
She was sitting there, on the very edge of her chair.
…But not for long.
Taking her hand in his, he quietly pulled her over to the bed.
And not saying a word, gently pressed his lips against
hers—saying everything he was feeling, thinking, in the only language the two
of them could ever seem to understand.
Actions speak louder than words: that definitely rang true
for the two of them.
He only pulled away for a second—only paused for a moment to
reaffirm what she already knew—but what she needed to hear once more.
“I love you, Akane.”
For awhile, they were able to forget about the demon and
forget about Gosunkugi… for one night, at least…
everything was perfect.
* * *
“Why you have picture of Great
Grandmother scissors, Ranma?”
Ranma and Akane froze where they were; neither one believing
what they’d just heard.
Ranma was lying on the ground, courtesy of Shampoo’s bike,
while the purple-haired Amazon sat beside him, staring curiously at the piece
of paper held in her hands.
Akane was the first to recover, and moving towards them,
stepped away from the fence. Bending down, she looked at Shampoo closely,
almost afraid to hope. “You… you’ve seen
these scissors, Shampoo?” she asked.
“Shampoo no lie,” the Amazon answered matter-of-factly.
“Great Grandmother keep in box. Very,
very dangerous. Shampoo no allowed to touch.”
“And you’re sure they’re the same ones,” Ranma asked, sitting
up quickly as he turned Shampoo around so she was facing him. “Think carefully,
Shampoo,” he told her, his voice desperate. “Please.”
Looking confused, but intrigued nonetheless, she nodded.
“Shampoo know because of jewels,” she explained,
pointing to the same place on the page Doctor Tofu had shown them yesterday.
“Very pretty, but great-grandmother say they special, so no can use. Why Ranma
so curious?” she asked.
Standing up, looking excited, Ranma took her hands in his.
“Could you take me to it, Shampoo?” he asked, his expression serious but eager.
“It’s very very important that we
find those scissors.”
Shampoo, hesitant to turn down a request from her husband,
slowly nodded. “Shampoo can take, but Great-grandmother no like you touch scissors. Ranma only look, yes? To
take scissors too dangerous.”
“Sure,” Ranma said, nodding his head quickly. “I’ll just take
a quick peek—just to see if they’re the ones we’re lookin’ for. That’s okay,
right?”
Shampoo nodded, all smiles again.
And latching onto his arm, quickly steered him in the direction of the
Nekohanten, giggling happily as they walked.
Akane, meanwhile, stood off to the side, not saying a word.
Ever since the shift in conversation she felt uneasy, all of her earlier fears
having suddenly returned. Deep down, she secretly hoped that Shampoo was
wrong—that this was some sort of mistake, or at most, a trick. After all, it
seemed almost too good to be true.
Trying to clear her mind of such thoughts, Akane quietly
followed behind. Yet the closer they came to their destination, the more
persistent the whispers became; something kept telling her that if they
actually did find the scissors, the
price wouldn’t be worth it...
* * *
The box was kept on a dusty old shelf in the back of the
Nekohanten, amongst a clutter of other strange misshapen artifacts and potions.
It was rectangular and plain, and a giant rusty padlock was its only
decoration; though Ranma highly doubted something like that would prevent anyone from opening it if they were truly
determined.
…And he was
determined.
When Ranma found himself standing in front of the box, he
couldn’t concentrate on anything else. The answer to his problems could be
sitting right there in front of him... and the desire to just take the box and
run was almost overpowering. But first, he had to know that what he was looking
for was really in that box.
Without a word, Shampoo picked the box up off the shelf, and
pushing firmly against its sides, snapped the padlock open. Smiling with
satisfaction she lifted the lid, while Ranma peered intently over her shoulder.
There, lying inside the plain old box,
was a pair of scissors just like the ones in the picture.
“Is same scissors, yes?” Shampoo whispered, glancing over at
Ranma.
He barely managed to nod; his eyes were glued to the simple
cutters, the jewels still perfectly in tact, and the two crossed blades still
sharp. They looked brand new, almost like they’d never been used—a striking
contrast to the plain ugly box they’d been stored in.
“Ranma...”
Feeling his fiancée pulling gently on his sleeve, he moved
quietly to the side, allowing enough room for Akane to step closer. He watched
her carefully as her eyes scanned the contents of the box, watched her face as
she took it all in: her surprise, her resignation, her fear...
“These—they’re the same, aren’t they?” she asked, her eyes
riveted to the box. “But—but how?”
she asked, turning now to look at Shampoo, her eyes becoming almost accusing.
“Why do you have them?”
Ranma’s gaze unconsciously returned to the box. He didn’t
care why she had them—all he cared about was that she did—that their search was over. Everything would be fine now. Now
he could protect Akane. Now he could finally keep his promise to her...
...Almost without realizing it, he began to reach for the
scissors...
...Only to have them disappear right before his eyes in a
blur of motion.
“Not so fast, son-in-law.”
Startled, he turned towards the voice, only to see
“Shampoo,” she said firmly, with a note of reproach, “have I
not warned you about this box?”
The Amazon stood tall before her great-grandmother, not
showing the least bit of intimidation or of fear. “Shampoo help husband,” she
replied defiantly, clinging tightly to Ranma’s arm. “Ranma ask see scissors—he promise no touch.”
With slow precise movements, Ranma carefully removed the
young girl’s hand from off his arm, his jaw set, his
eyes serious. “Sorry Shampoo,” he told her, his attention now focused solely on
“Ranma!” Akane
protested, taking a step forward. “This isn’t the way to do it. I’m sure if we
just ask—if we explain—”
Ranma shook his head, cutting her off. “She’s not gonna just
give ‘em to us, Akane,” he told her, his gaze unwavering. “She’s an
Amazon—obstacles are for killing, remember? Shampoo wouldn’t miss an
opportunity to eliminate you, so what makes you think the old ghoul would think
any differently?”
“Doctor Tofu—”
“That’s not important,” Ranma interrupted. “Just give them to
me.”
“No matter what the problem, son-in-law, I’d advise you to
think of another way. These scissors are not the answer.”
“…so there is a
price,” Akane whispered to herself. Turning to Ranma, she grabbed his arm,
trying in vain to get his attention. “Ranma, please, let’s just forget it,
okay? If
Finally, he allowed himself to look again at his fiancée. She
was shaking as if cold, and her eyes were slowly filling with tears.
“Akane...” Just as easily as his body had slipped into an
attack position, it slipped out…
“Please... can we just go home...” she pleaded.
Ranma spared one last look at the scissors—the one chance he
had been wishing for—and then, turning back to his fiancée, took her hand in
his. Without a backward glance, he led her out the back room, avoiding the
questioning looks of Shampoo and
Shampoo, meanwhile, was baffled.
“Great-grandmother,” she said, her
voice slow and controlled. “Shampoo miss something,
yes? When Akane and husband get so close? And why husband want scissors?”
“Guard that box, Shampoo,” she ordered,
her eyes fierce. “Son-in-law will be back for it. And if I’m right about this,
it may be the key to winning your husband once and for all.”
“Is true?” Shampoo asked happily. “Finally, husband be Shampoo’s?”
Her great grandmother nodded solemnly. “But first I must speak
with Tofu,” she said, turning again to the door. “From what the Tendo girl
said, it seems he knows something that could prove most useful.”
* * *
“We have until
Akane looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “Enough time?” she
asked incredulously. “Ranma, she’s not going to just hand them over!”
“I know,” he replied simply, determinedly. “That’s why I plan
to take ‘em.”
It took all of Akane’s willpower not to hit him over the head
with something heavy. Honestly! After all their dealings with
Had he lost his mind?!
“No, I’m not crazy,” came Ranma’s
unamused voice. “Geez, Akane, give me some credit. I’m not an idiot, you know.
It ain’t like I haven’t thought this through.”
Akane, startled that he could read her so easily, shifted
uncomfortably where she sat. “Well, there’s got to be some other way,” she told
him stubbornly. “It can’t be that easy! If these scissors have always been
here, then why has it taken us this long to find them? Wouldn’t we have
discovered them earlier, in one of our other lives or something?”
“I don’t know,” Ranma sighed. “This is the first time I’ve ever heard of this
red-string-theory-thing, so I don’t know if we woulda even had reason to look for the scissors before. But if there’s even a chance they’ll work,” he went on
quietly, firmly, “then I gotta try it.”
“What if I don’t want you to?”
Ranma stopped pacing to look at her, his expression pained
and confused. “Akane...”
“This is nice,” she said quickly, avoiding his eyes. “I have
all these memories of you, of us—and
no, I don’t want to die—but just the thought of losing all these memories, of
never getting to see you again...” she trailed off, her voice sounding small as
she buried her head in her arms. “I don’t know,” she continued, “I’m just so
confused. And frustrated. And mad.”
“Dummy,” said Ranma, kneeling beside her. “And you think I’m
not?” Slowly, Akane lifted her head to look up at him, her eyes focused on his.
“Without those scissors I don’t know what else I can do.
Hell, I don’t even know if those scissors will even do anything! But if there’s—if there’s even a chance it’ll work—a small
chance, then I’m gonna take it. ‘Sides,” he continued softly, in teasing tones.
“You never listened to me in the past, so I’m just paying you back for all
those times you made me worry.”
Akane, pretending to be angry, buried her face once more in
her arms, refusing to look at him.
Ranma’s expression changed just as suddenly. “Ahh, no. Aww, geez, I didn’t mean it, Akane,” he told her,
apologizing over and over again. “Don’t be mad, okay? Please?”
Once he’d moved closer, Akane looked up at him through her
dark bangs, and before he had time to react, pushed him backwards with a jab of
her finger to his forehead, catching him off guard. She watched as his hands
began wind-milling wildly in the air, fighting a losing battle to keep his body
balanced and upright. Finally, gravity won out, and he fell over backwards,
hitting the floor with a loud thud.
“Hey, no fair!” Ranma
whined from his spot on the floor.
“Dummy,” Akane teased, laughing. Standing up, she stretched,
and her expression once again became serious as she turned to look over her
shoulder at Ranma.
“But you’re right,” she continued softly. “If things were
different—if you were in my place, and our situations were reversed—I’d do the
same. So,” she began nervously, “about that plan you mentioned...”
A slow smile spread across Ranma’s face, as he jumped easily
to his feet. “I don’t need a plan,” he told her. “I’ve mastered the umisen-ken,
remember?”
Rolling her eyes, Akane put a hand to her forehead in
exasperation. “How foolish of me to forget,” she said.
* * *
Ranma moved within the darkness, allowing the shadows to
envelope him completely, to mask his very presence. It was exhilarating in a
way: finally finding a real purpose for this technique—not the selfish intents for
which it had been created.
He could see the Nekohanten now, the
lights were still on even though the sign on the door read ‘CLOSED’.
Strengthening his concentration, Ranma moved easily through the large dining
area, maneuvering himself towards the room where the scissors should be.
...Only to find they weren’t there.
He couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. It wouldn’t be like
It didn’t take him long to rule out Mousse as a suspect. The
myopic boy was lying in a small locked cage, as a duck, fast asleep. Next, he
chose to check Shampoo—the lesser of two evils, as it were. He made his way
quickly to her room, his very presence erased as he moved invisibly through the
restaurant.
Her door was open, and he could see her lying on her bed, the
box she’d shown them earlier, resting unguarded in her hands.
Ranma couldn’t believe his good luck!
The old ghoul must be slipping, he thought.
Revealing himself in such a situation was probably not the
best course of action, he decided. So quietly, carefully, he slipped inside her
room. Deep within the umisen-ken, he crept to her bed. It looked like she was sleeping but there was no way he could be sure;
it was still early after all, and he hadn’t for a second ruled out the
possibility that this could all be some sort of trap.
He was just glad they’d never learned of this technique—that
he’d never had occasion to use it after his fight with Ryo. This would be the
last thing they’d be expecting…
Ranma closed himself off to everything around him—concentrated
all his energy on this one task, on everything he’d ever learned. And slowly,
carefully, he reached out a hand… and in one fluid motion, took the box right out
of her fingers.
...It was so easy...
Shampoo’s eyes suddenly widened in surprise, and quickly, panicking,
she sat up—staring at the place the box had been only moments before.
But Ranma didn’t stay to see any more than that. He ran and
he ran, until he had left the Nekohanten behind completely...
* * *
In their memories, it always happened at night. And now, it
was
Ranma and Akane stood waiting, the
tension in the air was almost palpable—doing nothing to ease their fears. As
they waited for Gosunkugi to appear, their senses pushed to their limits, for a
moment they thought they heard something... something strange... fast approaching. It began as an indistinguishable
sound: a clanging of sorts, sharp and piercing.
Ranma stepped instinctively in front of Akane, taking up a
defensive stance.
His eyes were glued on the road, his attention focused on the
bend beyond the fence, where his vision couldn’t reach...
...And from there, Gosunkugi emerged, running towards them.
Ranma didn’t bother to relax his stance, not trusting the
voodoo-loving-boy any more than the demon he’d stupidly summoned. Though
looking at him now, it was hard to reconcile the past Gosunkugi with the
present one... the closer he came, the more Ranma noticed the strange way in
which he walked: his movements were awkward and strained, and he appeared to be
swaying unsteadily from side to side.
It didn’t take Ranma long to recognize the true source of the sound they’d been
hearing...
Strapped securely around Gosunkugi’s chest was a band of
scissors—several bandoliers full, in fact—each blade carefully protected by a
cork firmly placed in the sharpened points.
Before leaving, he had told them he’d do his best to find the
scissors—and from the look of things, he’d done that and more. If Ranma had to guess, he’d say the other boy had simply
grabbed every pair of scissors he’d come across in a mad attempt to help.
Again, almost unconsciously, he found himself silently
cursing the other boy. Never in all his life, had he wished so desperately for
someone to be adept at the arts. He wanted to fight him—needed to hurt him, just like he’d hurt them.
Yet somehow, Ranma found the power to hold his anger in
check.
“You almost gave me a heart-attack, Gosunkugi,” he complained
when the other boy had finally drawn closer.
Breathing heavily, Gosunkugi removed the first band of
scissors from off his chest. “Sorry,” he replied sheepishly, afraid to meet
Ranma’s gaze. He quickly laid his burden on the ground before them, and backing
away, frowned. “I’m afraid I couldn’t find the scissors from the picture, but
maybe one of these pairs will do.”
Ranma was about to open his mouth to gloat, but Akane beat
him to it.
“Thanks Gosunkugi,” she said, bending over to examine the
small collection of piled scissors. “But actually Ranma and I already found the
ones we needed.” Holding out the box for him to see, she lifted the lid to show
him the special contents.
Gosunkugi’s face lit up at the sight, and he smiled brightly.
His eyes were glued on the answer to all his prayers—the one thing that could
finally separate Akane from Ranma forever. “I’d love to do the honors,” he told
them, reaching timidly for the scissors.
Akane quickly shut the lid and stepped away. “These are a
last resort—that’s all. We may not even need them,” she told him.
Ranma frowned at her words. In his heart, he knew they’d need them. “You ready?” he
asked her, his voice soft. It was the only thing he could do to keep his voice
from shaking, to hide the fear and nervousness he was feeling at that moment.
This was his last chance.
He couldn’t allow himself to fail.
Akane nodded, and somehow found the strength to smile.
Both of them knew the creature would be appearing soon; they
could feel it. But for now, all they could do was wait.
* * *
Ranma had no idea what to expect when the demon finally
arrived. Even in his memories the details were sketchy—and he almost always
came too late. So when he heard Akane suddenly cry out in pain and fall to her
knees, to say he was slightly panicked was an understatement. He barely had
time to register what was happening before he found himself kneeling beside
her, asking what was wrong.
Her eyes were clenched tightly in pain, and her hands were
wrapped tightly around her stomach. “I’m okay,” she told him, though her voice
was unsteady and clearly shaken.
Turning quickly to Gosunkugi, his eyes wild, Ranma demanded,
“What’s happening to her? It ain’t even here yet!”
Gosunkugi, looking just as confused and lost as Ranma,
helplessly shook his head. He began to take a step towards Akane, but nervous
and afraid, stepped back, seeing the protective look in Ranma’s eyes. “I—I
don’t know,” he replied uselessly. “I—this—I don’t remember anything like this.”
Ranma turned back towards Akane, feeling angry and frustrated.
What was going on? She wasn’t glowing—and there were no signs of the demon
anywhere near them—and this… how was
he supposed to fight this?
Almost unconsciously, his hands began to inch closer to the
scissors… until his hands actually rested against the box itself.
Akane noticed the movement almost immediately. “Ranma, no,” she
told him, her voice hard. “Not yet. A last resort.
Remember?” Lifting her head, she tried to smile reassuringly for him. “I’m
okay,” she added, though pain was still written clearly across her face. “I
just feel a little winded is all.”
Ranma, his grip on the box loosening minimally, looked
unconvinced.
Akane, noticing this, looked rather annoyed. “Really,” she
said again, the smile quickly fading to be replaced by an angry scowl. “I’m
fine, Ranma.” As if to prove her point, she climbed slowly to her feet.
It looked to him like it was sheer force of will that was keeping
her standing. He would have told her so too, would have called her bluff—if he
hadn’t noticed the dark shadow forming out of the corner of his eye.
Not wasting a moment, Ranma immediately resumed his protective
stance in front of Akane, his heart racing. The creature… it had finally
appeared.
It was everything he remembered… and yet, in a way, it wasn’t.
It was dark and menacing, and it still radiated hatred and
death. And evil.
But it looked weaker
somehow, more devoid of color; its shadow more translucent. He was looking at a
wisp of fog or smoke—not the dark cloud of angry, dark energy he’d been expecting.
But that didn’t mean he intended to let his guard down.
This was his last chance. He had no intention of failing.
Cupping his hands in front of his body, Ranma summoned all of
his confidence, all of his strength—and with a cry of
“Moko Takabisha” released the ball of energy directly at his target without
warning.
Again, like so many attacks from the past, it flew harmlessly
through the gray shadow—the gray shadow that was slowly growing larger, growing
darker—and which appeared to be heading straight towards his fiancée.
Silently, Ranma cursed.
It really was
smoke! It hadn’t reacted to the attack at all!
…One more try, he told himself.
He needed to be stronger; for the chi to be bigger. Ranma closed his eyes, allowing
his mind to think of the scissors—their one secret weapon—the one thing that
could end this nightmare once and for all. He concentrated all of his energy on
that thought alone; drawing what confidence and power he could from it. Then,
focusing that energy into his palms, he opened his eyes and sent it flying.
It was the largest chi attack he’d ever thrown...
And it passed harmlessly through the creature, just like the
last.
Ranma, already feeling the strain of drawing so much energy, fell
to his knees.
…It hadn’t worked…
It. Really. Hadn’t. Worked.
He lowered his head, his fists clawing painfully at the dirt.
Had he been fooling himself all along then…? Tricking himself
into believing he could actually beat it with strength alone?
Was it true…?
No matter how many attacks he used—how many techniques he’d
learned—now, when he needed them most, none of them would be of any use? It was
almost too much to bear: after ten long years of devoting himself to the art, this was all he had to show for it?
There was no way in hell he was lettin’ it end like this.
Slowly, Ranma lifted his head, once again surveying the
creature before him. His eyes searched desperately for a weakness—something,
anything.
It was darker now—much darker than before—nearly solid. And
beneath the shady recesses of the creature’s face, he could almost discern the
makings of a smile. It easily floated several feet off the ground; a dark,
angry mass. But of what, Ranma could only imagine...
This was the creature. This
was how he remembered it.
He could hear its voice in his head, even now—hear the sound
of it as it spoke through Gosunkugi, mocking him.
Almost unconsciously his eyes drifted to the small box at his
feet.
He’d known all along... hadn’t he? Known the battle would
eventually come down to this.
And looking at Akane now, pale and afraid, her face
superimposed over all the different variations of her from their past... Ranma
couldn’t stand to see her like that again. To watch helplessly as the light
left her eyes—while she breathed her last breath.
He wouldn’t let it
happen.
The memory of a million promises steeled his nerves—reminding
him of a vow he had never meant to break. He’d failed her in so many ways, so
many times. He refused to let it happen again.
...Without hesitation, his hand reached for the scissors…
* * *
Gosunkugi didn’t know what to do.
Akane—beautiful, perfect Akane—was getting paler by the
second, while Saotome—stupid, stupid,
useless Saotome—continued firing off ineffective attacks. Oh, if only Emi had
chosen him. None of this would have happened if she hadn’t fallen under the
spell of that evil, womanizing Daichi.
This was all Saotome’s fault!
Stupid
Saotome! Stupid Saotome! Stupid Saotome!
He... he had to do something.
He couldn’t keep standing there while Saotome wasted what little time they had
left.
Although he’d always been unable to help her in the past,
now, he felt a renewed hope. As if all of his life—his destiny—had been leading to this very moment.
With eyes narrowed, he turned to look at the solution to all
his problems.
...A small, elongated box lying beside his enemy...
Smiling, he adjusted the candles that were tied securely
around his head, relieved he was, and thankful too, that he’d found the hiding
place where his parents had stashed it.
Working at his grandfather’s shrine, had obviously done no
good. At least with voodoo, he knew he
could get results! He was staring at the proof right now!
Boring his eyes into those of his foe, he began to chant
lightly under his breath, emptying his mind of everything but that one
prevailing thought:
Pick up
the scissors! Pick up the scissors! Pick up the scissors!
He could picture Saotome in his mind perfectly—see him
clearly now, even when he closed his eyes. And with all the strength and
conviction he could muster, he screamed aloud:
“PICK THEM UP!!!”
* * *
She could see everything—hear everything—and yet, she
couldn’t get her body to move. There was a heavy weight
pressing against her, holding her in place, keeping her weak, draining her.
And she heard Gosunkugi scream…
Saw Ranma as his hands reached for the box…
* * *
The scissors felt warm and comfortable in his hands—for once,
he felt confident and strong. He
could hear nothing else; think of nothing else. All of his senses were focused
on the object he held in his hands. And the closer he came to the shadowy
creature, the more clearly he could see a faint light glinting off the blades
of the scissors; a spark.
There was a low buzzing in his ears almost instantly—a sound
which grew stronger each time the string was in sight.
Ignoring it, he moved forward, desperately searching. Then, finally,
he saw it: the thin, semi-veiled red thread was gleaming off the blades of the
scissors.
The buzzing in his ears became almost deafening.
The creature, unafraid, remained on its set course towards Akane—Akane,
who was now lying on the ground, still and unmoving,
her eyes closed.
…He had to do it now…
Steadying his hands as best he could, Ranma moved the blades
closer to where he’d seen the thread moments before; though he could barely
concentrate over the noise in his head.
The string, now, was solid.
He blocked out the sound as best he could, his mind focusing
on the solid line before him. It was red, just like the legend said, and he
could see the point where it connected himself to Akane. For a moment—a second,
really—he found himself hesitating.
The weight of it—of what he was about to do—finally, it hit
him.
…Cutting the string, meant cutting
himself off from Akane forever…
He looked over at his fiancée; to the girl he’d fallen in
love with over and over again. Even when he’d tried to steel himself against her—tried
to push her out of his mind—something would always draw him to her again. But was
it only because of the string…?
Silently, he cursed himself. He didn’t have time for this!
…The creature was almost there…
Afraid he’d lose his nerve, he shut his mind of everything
else; everything that wasn’t the red string before him. Quickly, not giving
himself time to pause, he closed the blades against the thread, severing the
connection once and for all.
It was over. He’d really done it.
…The red string of fate had been cut…
* * *
The sound of the creature screaming echoed throughout the
park, and Gosunkugi watched as Ranma Saotome collapsed behind it, not moving.
For a moment, the demon lay suspended; frozen in the air. Then,
a strange dark light surrounded it completely, and seconds later, the light and
the creature both appeared to implode upon themselves, disappearing altogether.
Gosunkugi stood frozen to the spot; too afraid to hope. He
kept waiting for the demon to reappear, for a shadow to form again above
Akane’s unmoving body.
He waited… but no demon appeared.
And then a miracle occurred: Akane Tendo moved!
Smiling happily, he ran to his true love, relieved to see she
was alive and well.
He had done it!
Everything had gone perfectly.
* * *
Ranma wasn’t exactly sure what had happened—or where he was
for that matter. One minute he was lying on the ground in the park, watching as
the creature disappeared right before his eyes—then, next thing he knew, he found
himself engulfed by a strange, blinding white light. It had startled him and forced
him to close his eyes…
And when he’d opened them, he was no longer in the park.
A string of images began to play right before his eyes,
filling the darkness...
Of him, kissing Akane.
Of
holding her, touching her, whispering her name.
He
could still hear her moans, her cries muffled against his chest as he held her
closer, tighter—with a desperate need they’d both felt.
And when
it was over, they had laid there, still wrapped in each other’s arms… wishing
the night would never end.
Ranma smiled at the memory—his body felt warm as he relived
that night—a moment which had instantly engraved itself into his mind.
The memory, however, couldn’t last. Soon, he was greeted by a
different image; an unfamiliar scene which made his entire body go cold...
Akane
was sitting on the ground, cradling his body in her arms, crying
uncontrollably.
He
wasn’t moving.
I’m dead, Ranma though dazedly. He knew it with a certainty
that was very very frightening. The
scissors were lying forgotten behind him, and it didn’t take him long to
realize that they were still in the park; the setting of their final battle.
...For his final
battle.
But Akane was fine, a part of his mind pointed out. That’s
the important thing. Akane. She’s alive. He’d won.
Slowly, the picture began to fade away to be replaced by
another. This one just as unfamiliar as the last...
A small
child ran around the yard of the Tendo’s, laughing and smiling as he threw
punches in the air against an invisible opponent. His hair was black and tied
into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck—but it was the eyes that caught
Ranma’s attention first.
A dark
shade of brown…
There
was determination in those eyes; he could see it clearly as the child paused
for a moment, trying to execute the perfect punch. And then his lips turned
into a stubborn pout, and his eyes became angry when he over-extended his arm,
missing his imaginary mark.
They were Akane’s eyes, he knew...
And then
Akane herself entered the yard—Ranma noticed instantly that something about her
had changed. Her hair had grown longer, and she looked peaceful... older, but
still just as beautiful. She smiled as the small boy ran to her, throwing his
arms around her neck; and laughing, she hugged him back.
It was her child. Ranma had known it the moment she had
entered the yard, maybe even before—when he’d noticed the eyes. Instantly, he
felt a knot of something deep within: Jealousy? Regret? Sadness?
It took him by surprise, and he pushed it back down
forcefully, angry with himself over his own weakness. At least she was happy. She
deserved to be happy.
But the vision didn’t stop there...
Akane
and the child entered a cemetery. They were both dressed in black, and looked
decidedly unhappy. Stopping at a small monument, they carefully poured water
over the stone, bowing their respect to the person beneath.
Ranma
stiffened for a moment. The name on the stone was his own...
Wiping
away tears, Akane touched the gravestone lovingly with her hand. The small boy,
inexperienced, mimicked his mother’s movement, pressing his own against the
stone as well. And through the tears, Akane smiled along with him.
“Say hi
to your daddy, Shinji,” she told him.
Bowing politely
to the stone, the child obeyed. “Hello, daddy,” he said.
Ranma’s heart sped up at that; surprised and shocked. Now, it
all made sense: what he had seen and why. Their child. Shinji.
Too soon, the image faded away and Ranma was left with
nothing but a passing glimpse of his son, of the child he wouldn’t be there to
raise, or to see growing up.
But he was real. And Akane wouldn’t be alone.
For the first time… Ranma
allowed himself to smile.
It wasn’t long before the light began to disappear all
together; but not before one last image managed to flash quickly before his
eyes before the darkness took over:
...Of a girl, wearing a wedding
kimono, running towards him...
Then the light was gone completely.
* * *
Slowly, painfully, Ranma opened his eyes.
He was disoriented and confused at first—and his entire body
felt like it was on fire. But Akane was there. She was staring down at him, her
eyes red from crying, her cheeks wet. Gosunkugi was standing off to the side,
looking cheerful; all smiles.
Ranma ignored him, his mind filled with things he’d seen
within the light.
His death, true. But there
had also been life.
Life, in the form of their child…
He couldn’t even say he was exactly surprised. A part of him
had known all along what the price would be—what using the scissors really meant. And he was sure that on
some level Akane must have known too.
But he didn’t regret it. He’d never regret it.
...He’d always been willing to die for her...
And now, here she was, finally safe. His eyes drifted to her
stomach where their child had secretly begun to grow.
To wait.
His vision was growing bleary from the pain, but he kept his
eyes open—determined to hold on as long as he could. Slowly, he lifted his
hand, running his fingers over her stomach.
His son.
Akane gently took his hand in hers, and forced a smile. “You—don’t
worry—you’ll be fine. Doctor Tofu’s on his way and… and, he can do anything,
right? You. You’re strong, Ranma. You won’t lose to
something—to something like this.”
The words were meant to be encouraging… but her hand was shaking
as she held him, and she couldn’t stop herself from crying intermittently as
she spoke.
Ranma, wiping away her tears, frowned. “Aww, jeez—don’t cry,
Akane. Ya know how I hate it when you cry.”
She shook her head forcefully, the sobs making her voice
sound strained and miserable. “I—I can’t help it stupid. I’m not—I’m not crying
because I want to.”
Somehow, he managed to keep a smile on his face, even despite
the pain. “Dummy. There’s nothin’ to be sad about.”
Akane narrowed her eyes at him, her expression hard and
disbelieving. “You—how can I not look
upset?” she demanded. “You’re dying.”
His voice was firm. “Everything’s gonna be fine,” he
insisted.
She looked at him through her tears, confused and still
upset. “How can you say that?” she demanded quietly. “What if I never see you
again? What if—what if this is the last time—” she didn’t finish the thought.
She paused, her hands tightly clasped in her lap, her bottom lip quivering. “I
want you in this life, Ranma,” she told
him, shaking her head. “I want you. My stupid, perverted fiancée who turns into a girl.”
He sighed painfully. “…Akane.”
She lifted her head, her eyes pleading. “Please, Ranma. Don’t
let him win again—don’t let him separate us.”
“This life… it’s just temporary, Akane. There’ll be more.”
She shook her head, closing her eyes tightly against the
tears. “But I don’t.... I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t.” he told her softly. “I’ve found you in every
other life. Do you really think I won’t be able to find you in the next?”
“If you don’t, I’ll never forgive you,” she told him.
Ranma, though it was painful, laughed. “So stubborn…” he told
her, his voice trailing off. Before he realized it, his eyes were drifting
closed—the pain was quickly becoming unbearable. “I’m so tired, ‘kane. Just
gonna shut my eyes. Just for a minute…”
“Ranma…”
He could only faintly hear her voice now; it sounded far
away, so distant. Again, he pictured their son in his mind, saw him practicing
a carefully executed kata; and he could see Akane, smiling as she watched him…
…They’d be fine…
The pain was becoming less, now… he could barely feel a
thing…
Briefly he thought of his mother—of the woman he barely had the
chance to get to know—and of his old man, the one who’d raised him alone for
the last ten years.
He saw Ukyo… Shampoo… Ryouga…
There were others—he knew there were others—but for some
reason, he couldn’t recall their faces. Not even their names…
…Then, he stopped thinking of anything at all …
***
“Ranma,” Akane whispered brokenly, holding him tighter. “You
dummy.”
She could only watch, helpless, as her fiancée passed away in
her arms.
***
THE END
***
((Thanks so much to my friend Anna Novastar, for going over
this and editing it for me!!!))
Wow. I am truly sorry. I had no idea this chapter would be
such a nightmare to write, and never anticipated that it would take me this long to finish! I’m not satisfied
with it at all—but it’s done, and that’s all I care about it. Hopefully, someone out there is still interested in
it. If not, oh well, I can’t blame you. ;)
And I know... you’re probably hating
me right now. Just remember that there’s still the epilogue, and at least that’s already written. I just have to
do a little revision and editing first, but I promise it’s won’t take much
longer. J
I apologize for killing Ranma... but it had to be done.
e-mail: jewellangela@gmail.com
homepage: http://ranma-romance.com