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[Ranma][FanFic] Ranma and Akane: A Love Story, Chapter One

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Eric Hallstrom

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Nov 2, 1999, 3:00:00 AM11/2/99
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Disclaimer: The playground is by Rumiko Takahashi, I'm only
swinging on the monkey bars. Remember to leave the grounds
cleaner than you found them and please don't feed the
Trolls.

This story is archived at http://www.kawaiikunee.com/slp/

Release 1.1 (Oct. 27, 1999)

------------------------------------------------------------

Shadow Lurker Productions
Is very proud to present
An Eric Hallstrom Production
Of a Takahashi Rumiko Film

Chima Baifeng Tianshan Chun

Book I

Ranma and Akane, A Love Story

------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1: The first day
Part A: Arrival; Here's Ranma.

------------------------------------------------------------

This is the story of a boy who was a girl, and a girl, and a
boy, and a girl, and a boy, and a girl, and a girl who acts
like a boy, and a boy who acts like a girl, and a woman, and
a man, and another couple girls, and a cast of thousands.
And a Panda, though not until much later. And butterflies,
lots and lots of butterflies.

It's the story of a school, and another school, and another
school; of a city and a village and all the roads in
between. It's a story of desperate battle and deadly
opponents, and when, later, it attempts to be a story of
monsters and villains who attack these schools and so on, it
will instead become the story of monsters and villains who
turn around and run away -- at least, those of them who get
the chance.

It will have true love, and desperate peril, and romantic
intervals and high adventure and more martial arts action
sequences than you can shake a bokken at. And just a touch
of citrus, for flavor. But before it will be those stories,
it will be the story of a Fight.

------------------------------------------------------------

Some schools are known for academics and some are known for
sports. Furinkan High, in the Nerima ward of Tokyo, was
known for the Fight.

Every school day for more than a year, the boys of the
student body had either lain in wait to "win the right to
date the fair and beauteous tiger Tendo Akane" (i.e. beat
her up) or, if they had done that recently, had attempted to
heal up for the Fight tomorrow.

The girls all thought the whole thing was a ploy by Akane to
keep the attention of the entire male student populace and
had no sympathy for either side. The populace of the
neighborhood thought it was High Theater (not much else
happened in Nerima). Tendo Nabiki thought it had gone much
too far, but could think of no viable way to stop something
that no longer had a real reason except tradition. And Tendo
Akane vanquished her opponents, and ignored the whispers,
and grew ever grimmer as the days went by.

And today will be no different, after all it never is at
Furinkan. All the normal players are in place: here is the
assembled might of Furinkan's male student body, prepared to
do battle in heroic silliness for a prize they no longer
remember; here are the observers waiting for a sight they've
seen before, and grown bored of; and here is Akane herself
grimly preparing to fight for a point of honor she can no
longer care about; all just as it was yesterday and the day
before. And now Akane has broken into a run at her
tormentors, and now the battle is about to be joined. But
now, now something ... different ... has happened.

Now a voice has called out, not even very loudly. A smokey
contralto with a slight edge of roughness, and power enough
to crack the world. A voice that merely by its presence has
controlled the situation. A voice that belongs to a
shortish, athletic girl standing in the gateway to the
school.

She wears loose black velvet pants, three-inch black leather
moccasins, a loose blue silk shirt and a brown leather
airman's jacket. Her flaming scarlet hair flows down her
back in a pigtail tied with an ivory ring in which gems
gleam brightly in the sun. Her neck is wrapped by a flowing
white silk scarf, her hands are in her jacket pockets, her
head is slightly tilted to one side and she has just said
"Would someone like to tell me what the _Hell_ they think
they're doing?"

And nothing will ever be the same again.

------------------------------------------------------------

Takuichi Daikun was not a happy kendoist. He had striven and
won in honorable combat for the privilege of leading today's
charge so that the entire school could see his honorable
struggle with the fair Tendo Akane. (He's the first to get
beaten up today.) It was a great honor to be first, and he
had looked forward to it. But now his moment in the sun had
been _ruined_, upstaged by some ... barbarian _girl_ ... and
his honor had been shadowed. And so it was that he did a
_very_ foolish thing: he got her attention.

"This is an affair of Honor _girl_, who are you to..."

Somehow she had moved across the dozen yards separating them
without his seeing it. Up close he noted that her eyes were
an incredible blue as deep as all the worlds' oceans, that
several slight lines of old scars crossed the sides of her
face, that her gaze was literally _impossible_ to look away
from, and that she had just tapped him on the nose.

"My _name_ is Ranma. I asked you a question."

From far away he heard his voice stammering some sort of
explanation for the morning's action. Now that he thought
about it, it did seem sort of silly.

"Ah. I see. and what was your place in this ... 'honorable
combat'." An even, calm voice, nigh unto serenity.

"I have won the right to first contact today. It is a very
great honor." He hadn't really said that had he? He hadn't
meant to.

"Ah. Well I certainly wouldn't wish to deprive you of
your... 'honor'."

The hands that broke his shoulder blades and dislocated his
arms were certainly gentle he thought, though unstoppable in
their power. The snap kicks that flattened his testicles and
broke both of his lower legs skillfully applied and blinding
in their speed. The twin open hand push that flung him a
dozen yards backwards was so fast and yet so graceful as to
be beyond belief. And was that an energy discharge from the
point of contact? 'Why, it doesn't even hurt' he thought as
he flew backwards through the air. Until five feet before
hitting the wall, whereupon it hurt a _lot_. The loss of
consciousness that followed after hitting the wall was
probably a mercy.

Ranma turned to the remaining assembled male students and
bestowed upon them the calm, angelic smile of someone who is
wondering how far your arm can be pulled from its socket
before the flesh and ligaments separate, and whether beating
you to death with it will require one subsequent blow or
two.

Above, Nabiki stared down in shock. Well _that_ was
different.

"Now I was sitting in a tavern in a country far away a
couple months back," she remarked conversationally, "trying
to get something to eat. And the door opened and in walked
the nastiest trio of villains you ever did lay eyes on. They
were dragging along a youngish girl who really didn't seem
to want to be there, (what with the torn clothing and the
bruises and all) and in ... speaking ... to them it
developed that yeah they had kidnapped her, and yeah they
had done what you think they'd done, and oh yeah just cause
they could, cause no-one could stop em."

She shook her head in dismay. "So I ripped the big one's
heart out, and broke the second's neck and used a chair to
crush the skull of the one who was running away. Because it
was the right thing to do."

Nabiki registered further shock. Well, that _was_ different.

"Now I'm not saying that this case is exactly similar, mind
you, but you do know how badly you've been insulting the
other girls in the school, right?"

Students.Furinkan.male.assembled quivered in terror and
huddled together.

"And while I _myself_ am the most gentle and reasonable of
people, I understand that _other_ people aren't and if
_they_," she waved her hand at the watchers above, "should
decide to hold a _grudge_, well .... Things could become ...
dire."

The word "dire" seemed to resonate with especial doom.

"Continued for a whole _year_? Why I doubt if _any_ amount
of flowers would help. You'd have to escalate straight to
chocolate or even jewelry even to get a chance to plead your
case."

Ranma shook her head sadly at the fate that no doubt awaited
them. "And you still standing there."

Students.Furinkan.male.assembled blanched further and
scrambled en masse for the door to the fire within that
seemed nonetheless much to be preferred to the merciless
gaze without, only to be recalled to heel.

"Oh and by the way gentlemen... if it _should_ happen that
intense currying of favor _does_ grant you the
no-doubt-undeserved opportunity to plead for your miserable
lives... my advice to you would be to grovel, and to grovel
quite abjectly."

Nabiki wondered if you could overload on shock. That had
been _different_. And then looked about her, and heard the
all but audible grinding of the gears in the heads of the
other female onlookers, and saw the slowly growing grins,
and then sprinted for the door. A phone, she had to get to a
phone.

Ranma crossed her arms in front of her chest and shook her
head sadly at the mass of boyish silliness frantically
cramming itself through Furinkan's front doors, and turned
to Akane, who was still standing where she had been about to
knock Daikun into next week and whose mouth was still open
in shock.

"Aheh," she sheepishly tugged on her braid, "sorry about
that. Sometimes I get carried away."

Akane shook herself and closed her mouth. "No, not at all.
You were _wonderful_! I'm Tendo Akane, wanna be friends?"

"Sure!" Ranma's eyes lit. Akane was staggered again by their
power. "If you've been going through that every day for a
_year_ you _need_ a friend and it's always nice to make one
the first day. I'm Bushiko Ranma." She extended her hand,
pinky outstretched and Akane linked hers likewise.

Talking quietly they walked in the door and up the stairs.

"Tendo Akane, huh? 'Scarlet Road to Heaven', how lovely."

Akane felt her cheeks heat. "Um, thanks! Um, Bushiko?"

"It's a nom de guerre," Ranma explained sunnily, "long
story, I'll tell you later."

"The heck with _that_ story; _how_ did you do that _push_?
That was _great_!"

"You think so? It's not that hard: you just..."

And walked happily to class, and smiled merrily upon the
cringing boys therein, and did _not_ gloat. At least, not on
the outside.

------------------------------------------------------------

Next:
Chapter 1: The First Day
Part B: Encampment; Kuno Strikes Out.


Disclaimer: The playground is by Rumiko Takahashi, I'm only
swinging on the monkey bars. Remember to leave the grounds
cleaner than you found them and please don't feed the
Trolls.

*Summer Lightning* is copyrighted by Garnet Rogers. The mang-
ling it has been subjected to is my fault. If you haven't
encountered him before go out and buy his CDs, he sings
lots better than I write.

This story is archived at http://www.kawaiikunee.com/slp/

Release 1.1 (Oct. 27, 1999)

------------------------------------------------------------

Ranma & Akane: A Love Story
Chapter 1: The First Day
Part B: Encampment; Kuno Strikes Out.

------------------------------------------------------------

It was odd, Akane reflected; she had never met a person to
whom she had so instantly taken. Ranma was almost paralyzing
in the sheer force of her presence, and yet that presence
seemed to drive everyone around her to exceed themselves.

The morning had been ... interesting. She had devoted much
of it to the (admittedly somewhat arcane) study of the
Japanese Red-headed Martial Artist. Nor was this an
unpopular area of scholarly effort that day.

Ranma was, on the whole, a mystery wrapped around an enigma,
bundled in a wrapping of urbanely refined nastiness. She had
cheerfully admitted to having "A Gentleman's education: art,
tactics and poetry," and her performance had seemed to bear
her out.

She was barely adequate in math, for example, and had no
concept of Algebra; yet her grasp of Japanese history was
excellent, punctuated by many anecdotes and asides. Her
English was much better than anyone else in class, including
the teacher, and she could quote a wide range of poetry and
poesy from memory, yet she seemed to have a very eccentric
(to say the least) view of the physical sciences and her
approach to the social sciences verged on outright anarchy.

Class 2-F was scheduled to take up physical education and
music after lunch: Akane was looking forward to seeing Ranma
in action in Phys-ed, and, considering her incredible voice,
in Music too.

But both of these would wait until after lunch and Akane was
looking forward to that as well. Lunch would, after all,
allow her to question Ranma more closely about several
matters: murder, for one, and what she meant by 'nom de
guerre', and what her history had been; many such questions
were bubbling in her head, looking for answers.

Fortunately for Akane's fragile patience, lunch was not long
delayed. The temporarily released students scattered over
the Furinkan grounds, Ranma and Akane claiming a shaded spot
next to the Furinkan wall. No one seemed inclined to join
them, which was just as well, Akane felt, as it afforded
privacy.

"Okay," Akane said brightly, "tell me about Bushiko, and why
it's a nom de guerre. And what you're doing under a nom de
guerre anyway."

"Well... Um. Basically it started when I was five or so.
That was when my Dad decided that I wouldn't get adequate
training in the Art at home, so he took me on a permanent
training trip."

"We traveled a lot," Ranma continued, "and didn't settle in
one place for more than four months or so for the next six
years. Then Dad found this _stupid_ Martial Arts training
manual that was supposed to show how to train for an
'invincible technique'."

"Feh," Ranma brooded for a minute, then resumed. "Anyway,
_after_ the training he discovered that the reason nobody
uses that technique is that, _even if it works_, it makes
you psychotic."

Akane gasped, and Ranma nodded.

"After that, Dad tried to keep 'training' me, but I nearly
killed him three times in the next week. I knew it wasn't
going to get any better either, so I beat him up instead,
and then left him behind. I told him that he'd trained me
for six years and now I was going to go away and train
myself for six years, and at the end of that time I'd fight
him for mastery of the school. If he beat me I'd stay in
training under him for as long as he wanted, but if I beat
him he'd go back to work to raise money until the school got
back on its feet, and then retire."

"That was more than five years ago," Ranma continued, "and
I've got about six months to go."

Akane leaned closer concernedly. "How terrible! It must have
been very hard on you!"

"Less so than you'd think," Ranma replied. "I admit it
wasn't easy, but I'd been doing most of the domestic stuff
anyway: Dad's hopeless at anything that means he'd have to
work. So, the only real problem was fixing the damage he'd
done. It took six months, but I found a temple on Honshu and
locked the technique away and the craziness with it."

"But you're fine now?" Akane said, still concerned.

"Mostly, though I'm still afraid of cats."

"Cats? Why cats?"

"Because ..."

Alas for the state of Akane's curiosity, the conversation
was to be interrupted. And by none other than the usual
suspect for interruptions at Furinkan, that paragon of
honor, that champion of sport, that noble traveler in
hakama, the Blue Thunder of Furinkan High, Kuno Tatewaki.

------------------------------------------------------------

Tatewaki himself was experiencing a state of mind that was
highly unusual to him: doubt. He had been angered (once he
had taken a moment to consider it) by the fire-haired
barbarian's accusation that any action he had ever
undertaken was less than perfectly honorable, much less...
that word. It couldn't be... that word... could it?

After all he had always allowed his Beauteous Tiger to win,
had he not? (He knew, of course, that no girl, Beauteous
Tiger or no, could resist his masculine might.) So he had
allowed her to work through her shyness, trusting in the day
when she would see the purity of his affections, cast off
her maidenlike reluctance, and allow him to date her.

Now, however, the purity of his motives had been called into
question. Looked at in a certain light it could almost be
said that his honor had been sullied. If he did not redress
the situation, and soon, his fair flower might well
(horrors) _believe_ the libelous, malicious _lies_ proposed
by that... that...

Well, of course, it was not fair to expect too much from the
flame-haired Amazon. She was obviously some variety of
barbarian and new to Furinkan besides: she couldn't be
_expected_ to see the true nobility of his motives.

But that at least was easily remedied. If he simply
displayed the excellence of his martial skills by defeating
her, she would quickly come to understand the rightness of
his cause. No doubt her savage heart would be won over to
its rightful place as well, and then, well, the
possibilities were unbounded. He might even end up with
_two_ maidens to be beaten up by.

------------------------------------------------------------

At this time the narrator of this story would like to
interject an explanation for the lack of thought quotes in
the preceding passages. The reason can be stated simply:
both the Author and the Narrator posses the greatest of
respect for the noble scion of Kuno, and would never dream
of accusing him of thought.

------------------------------------------------------------

Unfortunately for Tatewaki, however, more than one worry
wrinkled his noble brow as he stood before his locker some
five minutes before Ranma and Akane's conversation was
interrupted. The other worry was simply stated: should he
take along his sword?

There were arguments for and against, of course. Against
such an action must stand the fact that the red-headed
barbarian had not, till now, deserved of him such a drastic
response; likewise that bared steel was after all both
excessive and inappropriate for instruction or for courting
a shy maiden's hand. On the 'for' scale, alternately, lay
the undeniable fact that she had boasted of recently killing
no fewer than three opponents. Gross and disgusting men, no
doubt, lacking in honor and skill, and certainly deserving
of their fates, but....

Fortunately, the noble Kuno mind was more than equal to the
challenge even of so momentous a decision, quickly supplying
an answer both sagacious and honorable: he would take the
sword (in case of need), but keep it concealed (to avoid
unnecessary maidenly fright).

And so it was that the noble and glorious Kuno Tatewaki,
fortified with blade and bokken, and prepared for every
contingency, stood near his beloved and her companion some
five minutes later. Prepared to issue a challenge both
martial and kindly, such as to make clear not only the
rightness of his cause, but also his essential magnificence.

In what should come as no real surprise to anyone who has
read this far, he got it wrong.

------------------------------------------------------------

Ranma looked up at the annoying fool who was attempting to
overawe her and then tilted her head at Akane, "And this is
who?"

"I, fair maiden, am Kuno Tatewaki, the Blue Thunder of
Furinkan High. You may address me as 'upperclassman Kuno'
when you ask my pardon for your deplorable sin. For, by my
sword's honor the worth of the Blue Thunder is as great as
his wrath, nor ever has he stooped to other than honorable
action, nor..."

"Lad ... _Lad_," Ranma interrupted, "before you go
challenging me to a sword fight, it _might_ be a good idea
to find yourself a sword."

"A sword I possess," Tatewaki replied frostily, "its name is
Asatsuyu ('Morning Dew') and its lineage is ..."

"Ah," Ranma deadpanned, rising smoothly to her feet, "mine
is named Tenchuu no yasashigena ('The Gentle Kiss of
Heaven', 'Heaven's Kiss'). Akane, will you call the dance?"

"But of course, Ranma," Akane replied. She, too, rose to her
feet and took position just outside of a virtual twenty-foot
circle that seemed to have magically appeared around the two
sword bearers. "_Assume_!"

Tatewaki slowly drew his Katana and assumed chudan, reaching
as his training indicated for the dominance, the mental
struggle that begins a match. "I am Kuno Tatewaki, of the
Spinning Shears School of Kendo, champion of Furinkan High."
His voice attempted firmness, yet his thoughts were in
turmoil, 'I did not wish a duel with _steel_, something is
wrong, her eyes, they are so ... blue ...'.

Ranma pulled a sheathed blade of the tachi pattern from
beneath her jacket and held it loosely at her side. "I am
Bushiko Ranma, who may claim no school," her voice was again
pleasant and conversational, "a humble pilgrim on the road."

In contrast to the shaken kendoist her thoughts revolved
around one theme only: 'Remember, _don't kill him_;' and her
calm, passionless regard was a stone on which Tatewaki's
concentration splashed like sea wrack before a storm.

Some seven seconds a stillness passed between the two, while
Akane held her hand on high. And then she let it fall,
"Kumite!"

And then the storm began.

Ranma seemed to blur to most watching eyes, yet to Tatewaki
she was clear as day, though he himself seemed mired in mud.
She crossed the twenty feet between them in a single gliding
step while her sword came to hasso-no-kame just above her
shoulder and its sheath spun about fifteen feet up in the
air like a black-lacquered frisbee. Then she was past him,
and his katana belled as she struck through his defense and
he gasped in surprise as his racing perceptions _saw_ the
point turn aside from his heart and tear through about two
inches of flesh on his upper arm.

He turned half about with the force of the blow and felt the
beginnings of pain before she spun in a perfect hi-low
slash, both of which evaded his fumbling blade to spray
blood from two slashes over his cheeks, and to cut through
his hakama to score both thighs. She took another step
forward and began a pattern of lightning fast light blows,
none of which even came close to being blocked, and all of
which drew blood.

Tatewaki was driven, stumbling, back until he was almost
against the outer wall of the schoolyard. Briefly, he
rallied enough to return his sword to something
approximating a guard position, before Ranma blurred even to
his racing perceptions, seeming to appear on both sides of
him at once. Pain exploded through his body as more than 50
minor cuts struck all over his torso, arms and legs at once.
Then, as he stumbled back, Ranma set herself and snapped
forward once more.

The first strike cut across the top of both hands, knocking
the sword from his grip in a gleaming mid-air circle. The
second, reversed, strike snapped the flying blade in half
before his eyes, driving him all the way back to the wall.
The final, two handed, decapitation strike blazed in
unstoppably, flickering blurrily to kiss the skin on his
neck ... and then _stop_, motionless.

Trembling, Tatewaki looked up into emotionless blue eyes and
the passionless, restrained violence of a tornado. And
suddenly, in what may have been the only genuinely inspired
moment of his life to that point, received a vision. A
vision of Ranma, clad in armor, and wielding the sword
pressed against his throat, slaughtering her way through
what seemed to him to be an entire army. A vision that
showed him, in no uncertain terms, the difference between
fencing on the Dojo floor, and life and death by the sword.
Of the difference between a person who could swing a sword,
and one who could kill with it; and, more importantly, in
this moment choose _not_ to kill with it.

And for the first time in his life, Kuno Tatewaki looked his
own Art in the face, and was ashamed. And buried his head in
his hands, pushing down the blade at his neck, and wept.

And Ranma lowered her blade and said "Aye, now. You've
learned that lesson. And you'll have scars to remind you of
it, as scars tend to do."

And she quirked a smile, highlighting the scars prominent
around her own mouth. And Tatewaki, looking up, essayed a
tentative smile of his own.

She walked over to her scabbard, picked it up, and put
Tenchuu away. Then she picked up the two halves of
Tatewaki's katana, and returning to stand in front of him,
held them out to him to take.

"It's said that the soul of a samurai is his sword, Kuno
Tatewaki. Yours would appear to be broken. Perhaps, before
you call yourself a samurai again, you should spend some
time mending it."

And then she returned to her seat by the wall, and Akane sat
by her. And Kuno Tatewaki turned away, holding the remnants
of his blade, and stumbled off to the infirmary, to patch
his wounds.

------------------------------------------------------------

"It is my firm conviction," Ranma said, "that it is a
gentleman's highest duty to smoke out silliness like that,
and step on it."

"But, Ranma, you're not a gentleman."

"And why not?"

"Because, use the masculine forms how you may, it's obvious
you're _not_ a boy."

"Feh," Ranma waved a dismissing hand, "Details. Mere
details."

Akane leaned close, "Ranma, you've _got_ to teach me how to
do some of that."

"Er, but, don't you have a sensei already?" Ranma nervously
asked.

"Only my Dad, and he hasn't trained me seriously in years."

"Er ... *sigh*, OK, we'll go to your place later and see
what you need to work on."

And they shook hands on the deal as the bell rang to bring
lunch to a close. Which was perhaps unfortunate, as it meant
that the _other_ important question she had meant to ask
slipped her mind completely, until much later.

------------------------------------------------------------

Physical Education, for Ranma, at least, was curtailed due
to the sensei's conviction that, before a place in the class
structure might be assigned to her, her overall level of
accomplishment must be measured. Since the limited resources
of the main gym proved incapable even of causing Ranma
sufficient exertion to change into gym uniform, much less
break a sweat, the sensei excused her of further toil that
day. Then the sensei excused _herself_ to sulk, and to plot
further, more strenuous tests for the morrow.

In the last period of the day, Music for class 2-F brought
the usual sounds of tortured musical instruments resounding
through the room. Akane, Ranma grumbled, had not had an
opportunity to demonstrate her skill. Most of the other
students had, but unfortunately 'qualified' was a rare
description of ability indeed as far as they were concerned.

Then it was Ranma's turn, and she drew her guitar from the
same place she stowed her sword and ran through basic
scales, and chords, and parts of tunes to the music
teacher's instructions. She was, it was noted to few
people's surprise, easily better than anyone else in the
class, save perhaps for Akane.

As the end of the class drew close the teacher asked Ranma
if she was any good at song.

Ranma hefted her guitar and grinned, "What song would you
like."

"You pick," came the response.

Ranma grinned again, and poised her hand above the strings.
"Alright, here's a love song then."

And then Akane heard, for the first time, the song she
would, in later times, come to regard as the song closest to
her understanding of Ranma's true heart.

I was riding west, through Ontake Mountains.
The hills were heavy with new-fallen snow,
And the sun-bright hills were dappled like a pony,
I was riding hard, I had miles to go.

And a magpie flew, 'cross the mountain highway,
It flashed and tumbled, through the golden trees,
And I thought of you, and my heart was lifted,
And floated with that magpie, on the morning breeze.

We are brief Summer lightning,
We are swift as swallows' flight.
We are sparks that spiral upwards,
In the darkness of the night.
We are frost upon the window,
We won't pass this way again,
In the end only love remains.

Tonight the Harvest Moon hangs over the valley,
I see the hills shine, in its silvery light.
It's the same old Moon, that shines down upon me,
And'll light my way, till I'm by your side.

For where I go, You go with me,
Though the miles keep us apart.
Your kisses on my lips, and your arms around me,
And your gentle hands, always on my heart.

We are brief Summer lightning,
We are swift as swallows' flight.
We are sparks that spiral upwards,
In the darkness of the night.
We are frost upon the window,
We won't pass this way again,
In the end only love remains.

Well who scattered these diamonds,
Through the vault of Heaven?
Who drew the curve of the magpie's wing?
Who shaped your face, and what made you love me?
Where is the heart of every living thing?

Well, I guess I don't know, and I don't care either.
I know you love me, how could it not be?
And I am yours, now and forever,
'Till my lips fall silent, and my eyes can't see.

We are brief Summer lightning,
We are swift as swallows' flight.
We are sparks that spiral upwards,
In the darkness of the night.
We are frost upon the window,
We won't pass this way again,
In the end Dear, only love remains.

And as Ranma finished the song and lowered her head, the
school day of Furinkan came to its end.

------------------------------------------------------------

Next:
Chapter 1: The First Day
Part C: Circumvallation; Shopping for Street-gangs.


Disclaimer: The playground is by Rumiko Takahashi, I'm only
swinging on the monkey bars. Remember to leave the grounds
cleaner than you found them and please don't feed the
Trolls.

*Lock Keeper* is copyright by Stan Rogers (RIP). The mangling
it has been subjected to is my fault. If you haven't
encountered him before go out and buy his CDs, he sings
lots better than I write, and Stan's estate could use the
cash.

This story is archived at http://www.kawaiikunee.com/slp/

Release 1.1 (Oct. 27, 1999)

------------------------------------------------------------

Ranma & Akane: A Love Story
Chapter 1: The First Day
Part C: Circumvallation; Shopping for Street-gangs.

------------------------------------------------------------

Ranma lowered her head; and the song, and Furinkan's school
day, came to an end. Rising to her feet, she bowed to the
rest of the class, who bowed back. An unbiased observer
would have seen that several of them were suspiciously
misty-eyed, but, fortunately, unbiased observers were thin
on the ground at Furinkan that day. So this enormous breach
of etiquette went unnoticed.

Akane rose too, and behind her the rest of the class.
Flowing out of their classroom, at the very back end of
Furinkan's main building, and down the stairs, they noticed
that they were about to resolve a mystery that had been
plaguing some of them all day. First there would be a noise
as of someone shouting from afar. Then there would be a
rumble, as of many feet rumbling one way and then another.
Finally a distant murmur as of many voices, one to another,
in the manner of a school building when rumor has broken
from its pen, or news runs flashing through the halls.

Annoyingly, though, the disturbance had never approached
class 2-F closely enough for the inhabitants thereof to make
out what was happening. Nor had rumor spread, if rumor it
had been, to the class' distant door. Nor had any class
member obtained an explanation at lunch (unless, perhaps, it
might have been in distant, unobserved corners, under strict
and bloodthirsty oaths of secrecy).

So, to some of the class, the whole matter was still
mysterious, and Akane was frankly ignorant. What Ranma might
have thought of the matter she did not say, though, perhaps,
she may have guessed.

Thus, when, as they approached the front of Furinkan
building, the noises from outside became clearer, it was
Akane who pushed ahead. Ranma, instead, pulled a Samurai's
fan from her jacket sleeve, flipped it open, and, gently
fanning herself, walked forward to join Akane on the
Furinkan front steps, grinning.

As she reached the top of the steps, and looked out on the
yard, that grin became a full fledged chuckle. Spread out
around the Furinkan yard ("Roses, getcher bunch Roses
heaahh!") were a number of mobile vendors ("Caannndy,
Bon-Bons, onna stick!") selling, or rather, _outrageously
gouging_, the various implements of girlfriend pacification
("Joolry, getcher Joolry now-ow, best prices inna city,
Guv'na").

On the way down the steps she passed Nabiki, standing
slightly apart, grinning in glee and using a walkie-talkie
to direct ("Short-term loaanns, only thirty percent interest
over one month, just for you Guv'na, and I'm cuttin' me own
throat") the efforts of her minions. Reaching over as she
passed, she tapped Nabiki on the shoulder and said, "You're
welcome," and then followed Akane through the schoolyard to
the street, still fanning herself gently, and still
chuckling.

As they neared the gate, she drew level with Akane, who
glanced aside at the fan still waving gently in her hand.

"A little old fashioned, isn't that?" Akane asked.

"Oh no, It's entirely practical. Personal protection, you
know."

Another sideways glance. "It's a war fan? Razor edges and
such?"

"Oh no, not at all. The virtue of the warrior, after all,
exists in the warrior's soul. The weapon ..." passing next
to the gate-post she swung the fan through it, apparently
without effect, "is merely the expression of it." Behind
them, as she walked on still gently fanning, the gate-post
divided itself at chest height, fell to the ground, and
shattered into dust.

------------------------------------------------------------

Some blocks away, while passing through a park on the way to
the Akane's house, Ranma finally broke the companionable
silence they had fallen into.

"Would have been nice if some of that apologizing the guys
were doing back there had fallen on the primary offendee."

"Mmm. I don't know" Akane replied, "they might have been
worried that I'd get mad at them for trying."

"Would you have?"

"Don't know, depends on how they did it, I suppose. I think
I've been given more than enough insincere flowers over the
past year, anyway."

Ranma, was just then passing by a hedge of wild roses in the
park, which filled the air with a slightly bitter perfume.
Her fan flashed momentarily in the sun and sliced an eight
inch length of vine from the hedge, which she quickly wove
into a slightly prickly wreath.

"How about sincere flowers?" she mused, turning the roses
over in her hands, and offering them to Akane.

Akane paused and turned to face her, her eyes huge and dark
in her face. "Ranma-san?!?"

Ranma shrugged, and grinned lopsidedly, "I just don't think
that, when _all_ the girls are getting flowers, that any
_particular_ girl should be neglected. People might get to
thinking that she wasn't good enough to get flowers or
something. It _might_ even hurt her feelings. Avoiding hurt
feelings is one of the most important tasks a gentleman can
perform, after all. And I _am_ a gentleman."

"Of course you are" Akane smiled cutely at Ranma, "but I
can't wear flowers unless you wear them too."

"Then crowned with flowers we both shall be!" laughing,
Ranma bowed flamboyantly. Her fan flashed again, and,
crowned with flowers, as she had said, the two friends
walked on, towards Akane's home.

------------------------------------------------------------

Ranma looked at the sign hung on the building's outside
wall. "The Tendo Dojo, hmm? You hadn't said that your family
owned your own Dojo, Akane-san."

"Dad hasn't done much teaching the past several years,"
Akane replied absently as she entered the house, "Hello, I'm
home!"

Ranma followed her inside and clapped once as she toed off
her slippers. "Excuse me for disturbing you!" she called.

"Oh, my!" came a sweet voice from the kitchen, "We have a
guest!"

Hard on the heels of the voice came the speaker, a tall,
sweet-faced, girl, apparently a few years older than Akane.
Ranma bowed to her politely, and raised an eyebrow at Akane.

"Ranma-san, this is my older sister Kasumi," Akane said,
"Kasumi-oneechan, this is my new friend from school, Bushiko
Ranma."

"Welcome to our home, Bushiko-san," Kasumi chirped, "will
you be staying for dinner?"

"Oh, I couldn't impose, Tendo-san, I'm only here to see
about helping Akane-san to train in the Art."

"In that case I insist you have dinner with us," Kasumi said
firmly, "I couldn't have you training with Akane without
something to eat afterwards. I know how martial artists
are."

"Well, if you insist... I accept, and with thanks," Ranma
bowed again and waved grandly to Akane, "So let's see your
Dojo proper, hmm?"

------------------------------------------------------------

Akane happily led the way to the Dojo, pausing only to
change into her gi, not noticing Ranma's raised eyebrow.
"Here we are!"

Ranma bowed to the spirit of the Dojo and leaned against the
wall. "Alright, start out with your kata; I'll just watch,
for now."

Akane centered herself, took a cleansing breath, and began.
For five minutes, and then ten, she performed her kata to
the best of her ability, not noticing, as she continued,
Ranma's increasingly serious and concerned expression.

Finishing with the hardest and most complex kata she knew,
she returned to the outside world and noticed Ranma's
distracted expression. Quickly becoming depressed, she sank
into seiza and looked down at her hands, "Not good enough,
huh?", she said quietly.

Returning to herself with a start, Ranma considered
momentarily, then replied. "No, the problem is that you're
_too_ good."

She looked down at her hands and briefly chewed her lip, "I
mean to say, yeah, there's some things you could improve in,
like speed, and maybe you're a little clumsy yet, but... the
thing is, most of the stuff I know, that you don't is
serious power stuff, and that's not what you need right
now."

"What do you mean, Ranma-san?", Akane frowned.

Ranma looked down, briefly, then raised her head and
captured Akane's gaze with her own, blue eyes serious and
intense under flaming hair. "Look, Akane, there are two
types of martial artists, okay? There's warriors, like me,
and there's people with sticks like that Kuno lad I thwacked
earlier today.

"And the difference, the _important_ difference between them
is: warriors are in the business of killing people, and
people with sticks are not. The Art of a guy with a stick
... well, it might be about art, or philosophy, or it might
be a sport, or an exercise, or basically it might be a lot
of stuff, but _my_ Art, a warrior's Art, is about killing
people, or, sometimes, _not_ killing people."

"Ranma, I _know_ what...," Akane began.

"NO", Ranma held up a firm hand. "You haven't thought it
through! Take a day, take a month, Hell, take the rest of
your life if that's what you need; once you start down that
road you can't go back. You don't want to go unless you have
to."

Ranma stepped forward and put her hand on Akane's shoulder.
"I'm serious about this Akane-chan, take the time to _be
sure_. I wasn't, I didn't have a clue when I started, cause
my Dad's an idiot, and it _hurt_. It _always_ hurts,
Akane-chan, or else, if it doesn't, it means _you're_ dead
too", she moved her other hand to Akane's other shoulder,
"and I don't want my friend to be hurt like that unless
there's no other, better, choice."

Akane collapsed into Ranma's embrace and sobbed. "Y ... y
... d-do you think I should just ... not ... then?", she
mumbled into the other girl's shoulder.

Ranma stroked the back of her neck and *shhhed*, "No, Akane,
I don't know what your honor needs. I _do_ know that when
you _have_ the power you _have_ to worry about it, not using
power is a use, too."

Back to arms length, "Take this morning, that Takuichi kid,
he's in the hospital now; and you can say he deserved it,
and you can say it could have been worse, and you can say he
was stupid. But when it's totaled up, what it comes down to
is that I maimed him, maybe permanently, and I didn't have
to."

"Mind you", she continued, "six months ago I'd have killed
them all and laughed, but that was in a different place,
under different rules. _Here_, reacting that ... extremely
... was wrong."

"Do you think he _will_ be maimed?", Akane said, worriedly.

"I don't know Akane-chan, Japanese medicine is lots better
than I'm used to, and I've got some tricks of my own to use
if it gets bad, but ... I don't know. And it was a mistake,
and you know that at some point I'm going to have to pay for
it too. It's a weight, Akane-chan, that you can't ever put
down. Don't pick it up unless you've got no choice."

"Okay, Ranma-chan, I ... I'll think about it first," Akane
smiled, weakly.

"Thank you." Ranma hugged her briefly, hard, and then let
go. "And it's not all _that_ bad anyway, even if you decide
to stay sane. There's a lot we can do to help your Art on
general principles, and just polishing you up should make a
lot of difference. 'Kay?"

"Uh-huh," Akane sniffed, she smiled kawaiily, "Thanks. What
should we do first?"

Ranma shrugged, "Change your wardrobe."

"Huh!?"

"You're wearing a gi."

"Yeah ... so?"

"Earlier today, did you feel comfortable fighting in your
school uniform?"

"No-ooo, I mean I had to, er, _if_ I'd had to I could,
but..."

"Exactly! When it's your art, it's got to be a part of your
whole life. When Basho was wandering around, d'you think he
only did poetry under special circumstances? Only when he
had an audience, and a mat, and a formal ink stone, and a
three foot brush, and a dozen perfect sheets, and so on?
When Hokusai made his prints, do you think he was only doing
art on the formal, final print, and not the rest of the
time?

"Hell, no," Ranma continued, "Hokusai was doing art even
when he was partying, (and believe me, Hokusai knew how to
party, too). Basho did poetry all the time; even if they
weren't doing the formal, get-it-down-right part, they were
sketching, or taking notes, or just taking what was going on
around them and putting it into context in their terms.

"They were doing their art all the time. And any art that's
_real_ has to be like that. All the time. And you won't do
your art all the time if you're not in a situation that
you're comfortable doing your art _in_ all the time. Which,
for Martial Arts, includes the clothes you're wearing. So
let's go see your closet."

------------------------------------------------------------

Somewhat dazedly, Akane led the way to her room, where Ranma
was soon standing in front of her closet, sorting through
her clothes, and muttering.

"Uniform ... uniform ... bleah ... dress ... dress ..."
Ranma posed briefly with a sun dress, "mmm, looks good, but
_I_ wouldn't want to try to high kick in it..."

Akane mega-blushed. "Me neither."

"Mmm ..., well, I don't see anything in here really suitable
for combat, do you?"

Akane shook her head, shyly, no.

"Well, there's only one thing to do then," said Ranma, "go
shopping!"

Akane grabbed her arm urgently, "Ranma, I won't have the
money for a shopping trip for..."

Ranma patted Akane's hand gently. "Don't worry about it
Akane-chan, for a good cause, you can always find _some_
kind of donor."

Akane blushed again, "Ranma-chan, I can't ask you to buy
me..."

Ranma winked at her, "Who said anything about me? Come on!"

------------------------------------------------------------

Ranma and Akane walked side by side deep into the Nerima
Ginza. Deeply engrossed in conversation with Ranma, Akane
failed to notice her steering their perambulations towards
the less savory part of town.

She regained notice of her surroundings with the realization
that several Bad Elements were attempting to loom menacingly
in the background. Ranma winked at her sudden start, and put
a finger shushingly to her lips. "Donors," she whispered,
and continued to chatter.

"Heyhey, chickies, whatchoo doin out tonite, hah? Yew wanna
_real_ man, hah? Haw, haw, looka this Junichi, a _redhead_,
think I'll see if she's a _natural_ redhead, haw!"

"Take the trailers," Ranma stage whispered. Her mouth smiled
at the forerunners of the ten thugs surrounding them, but
her eyes were cold. "Now, gentlemen, you wouldn't risk your
reputations by harassing a pair of unescorted girls, would
you?"

"Hawhaw, and what's gonna stop us chickie, huh?" the first
thug extended a tattooed hand.

"Well, for one thing," Ranma's tone was conversational, "the
element of surprise."

Her foot snapped up in a repeated high kick that landed
fifteen blows to the thug's chin in a fifth of a second,
then pivoted around the raised foot in a ki charged arc that
smashed the two forward flankers into their respective
walls. (Akane spun and launched a straight power kick into
the gut of the thug directly behind her. As he folded, her
hand rose and fell in a well-timed strike to the back of his
neck.)

Ranma shifted position in midair, flashing to her left in a
jump kick into a fourth thug that carried him into the
fifth, her hand blurred briefly as they landed to the blurry
*thud* of many blows to exposed heads and torsos, then
launched herself backward. (Akane continued her motion to
the side, launching herself at the thug there and blasting
through his defenses with a flurry of punches that soon sent
him into unconsciousness.)

Ranma flipped through the air towards the remaining two
thugs on her side, altering course at the last instant to
pass between them, her hands blurring as she passed. She
landed lightly on her feet, preparing to move towards Akane
as her last opponents slumped heavily to the ground. Akane
however, had already bounced off the wall in a long jump
kick that took her fleeing final foe in mid back, smashing
him limply into the other wall of the alley.

"Well," Ranma beamed, "not bad at all."

"What the heck did you get us into that for?" Akane all but
shrieked, "What were you think... What are you _DOING_?"

"Mmm? Looting the bodies, Akane-chan, what does it look
like?"

"You _killed_ them!!??!"

"No, no, no. If I'd _killed_ them, I'd have said I was
looting the _corpses_."

"But ... but ..." Akane could only watch in stupefaction as
Ranma, in less than a minute, stripped the mindless bodies
down to their underwear, stacked their jackets, shoes,
shirts, pants, and paraphernalia in the middle of the alley,
and rifled their wallets, throwing their cards and photos to
the ground and counting their cash.

"Nearly half a million cash!" Ranma gloated, "and better
than 250 thousand in loot too! As I said, not bad at all!"

"Ranma, what...?" Akane stood openmouthed in shock, "How can
you just...?"

"Well, after all, Akane-chan, they did try to accost us. If
we don't apply _some_ kind of penalty, they'll surely slip
further and further into Crime and Degradation, ne? And we
do deserve some sort of compensation for our efforts, right?
Besides: to the victor go the spoils."

"Now, here, take this pile of pants and shirts and come on,
we've got to go fence this stuff, and then go shopping."

"Shopping?" Akane queried weakly.

"We need to get you a new wardrobe, remember?"

------------------------------------------------------------

Later, Ranma turned from Akane's closet and pronounced
herself satisfied. "Hah! Hah! Still got that haggling touch!
Hah!"

Akane turned from the mirror, and tried to see how her long
hair looked against the back of her new leather vest. "Do
you _really_ think this looks good, Ranma-chan?"

Ranma looked at Akane's black velvet pants / white silk
shirt / black leather vest combo and raised an OK sign.
"Trust me, Akane-chan, you look great. And there's nearly
thirty thousand yen left for other stuff you might need
too!"

"Are you _sure_ you won't take any of this money,
Ranma-chan? You did do most of the work."

"Nah!" Ranma waved her hand, "don't need it at the moment.
Besides, we're friends right? One day you'll do something
like that for me. Now let's get going, your sister just
called us to dinner!"

Returning to the dining room, Nabiki frankly stared at
Akane's new look. Introductions to Nabiki and Soun were
made, and one of Kasumi's typically excellent meals was
consumed.

Mealtime conversation was mostly superficial, enlivened only
by Ranma's presentation of a guesting gift (Wrapped bottles
of Sake and a box of exotic spices for Kasumi) at the
beginning of the meal.

Nabiki had been looking at Ranma with what seemed to be a
certain amount of unease throughout the meal, and after Soun
excused himself she appeared to come to a decision.

"Um, Ranma-san, I just wanted to thank you for the
opportunity you provided me this morning. And, um,
Ithinkyoushouldtaketenpercentofthemoneyinthanks," Nabiki
blushed as though she could not believe what she had just
said.

Ranma winked at her "Ten percent, Nabiki-san? That's what?
fifty thousand? There's no need for that; I'm not hurting
for cash."

"But I can't just ... _hey_ how'd _you_ know how much it
should be? I haven't said how much I made yet!"

"You've segregated it in your money belt, Nabiki-san," Ranma
replied, "I checked it earlier."

"You picked my pocket!?", Nabiki gasped.

"Well, only for informational purposes, Nabiki-san. I put
everything back, did I not?"

Nabiki stood it for eleven seconds before frantically
checking her belt.

"Nabiki!" Akane glowered.

Ranma chuckled, and rose from the table, "It's time I went
home, I think; I'll see you tomorrow before school, Akane?
And don't worry about it Nabiki-san: I'd have checked too."

Akane nodded brightly, but Nabiki hmmphed, "You be careful,
Ranma-san, I'll get you back for that."

"I'll be looking forward to the contest," Ranma smiled, "I'm
sure it will be interesting."

"Do you have to go so soon?" Akane wondered.

"I'm afraid so. If you look at the time, it's actually quite
late. You have school in the morning, after all: you need
your rest."

So saying, Ranma turned out the door of the Dojo, and,
whistling, walked down the street to her apartment, under
the moon and the stars.

------------------------------------------------------------

Walking down the street alone, Ranma thought to herself,
'Wow, friendship, I wonder if...'

'NO!' herself replied, 'she's straight, she's a girl, and
she thinks _you're_ a girl. This is the best friendship
you've had since Kitsune or Usagi, _don't mess it up_!
Besides, you've got some kind of arrangement coming from
Dad, right? No More Romance, and that's _final_."

So thinking, Ranma walked on down the darkened street. It is
the privilege of a Martial Artist to ignore the little voice
inside that says 'Sure' after all. Presently she began,
somewhat unconsciously, to sing. A song she had learned from
a Gaijin ship crewman and translated to Japanese:

You say 'Well met again, Lock keeper.
You see me laden even deeper than the time before.
Occidental oils and teas brought down from Singapore.'
As we wait for my lock to cycle, I say,
'My wife has just given me a son!'
'A son', you cry, 'is that all that you've done?'

'Then come with me!', you say,
'To where the Southern Cross rides high
upon your shoulder.
'Oh, come with me', you cry,
'Each day you tend this lock you're one day older,
and your blood
grows
colder.'
But that anchor chain's a fetter
And with it you are tethered to the foam,
And I wouldn't trade your life
For one hour of home.

She wears Bougainvillea blossoms,
You pluck 'em from her hair and toss them in the tide,
Sweep her in your arms, and carry her inside.
And her arms rest on your shoulder,
And her moonlit eyes grow bold and wiser
through the tears,
And I say, 'How could you stand to leave
this for the years?'

But 'Come with me!', you say,
'To where the Southern Cross rides high
upon your shoulder.
'Oh, come with me', you cry,
'Each day you tend this lock you're one day older,
and your blood
grows
colder.'
But that anchor chain's a fetter
And with it you are tethered to the foam,
And I wouldn't trade your life
For one hour of home.

Sure, I'm stuck here on the Seaway,
While you compensate for leeway through the Trades;
And you shoot the stars to see the miles you've made;
And you laugh at hearts you've riven,
But which of these has given us more love and life?
You, your tropic maids, or me, my wife?

And 'Come with me!', you say,
'To where the Southern Cross rides high
upon your shoulder.
'Oh, come with me', you cry,
'Each day you tend this lock you're one day older,
and your blood
grows
colder.'
But that anchor chain's a fetter
And with it you are tethered to the foam,
And I wouldn't trade your whole life
For one hour of home.

And I wouldn't trade your whole life
For one hour of home.

------------------------------------------------------------

Later yet, Akane stood in her bedroom, looking out the
window at nothing in particular. She was thinking about a
Decision, thinking about honor, and duty, and leather vests.
Seeing, in her mind, a kendoist flying backwards to a wall,
and a katana, snapped in two, hanging momentarily in
mid-air. Weighing her honor against pain, and tumbled thugs,
and a crown of roses.

And then she smiled, and returned to her bed, and fell
deeply asleep. A response which is noted as common, in cases
where a great Decision has been made.

------------------------------------------------------------

And across Nerima, silence fell, and quiet reigned. And if,
in some darkened corner, people felt themselves abused, and
whispered, and plotted revenge, Ranma and Akane, at least,
took no notice. And slept the sleep of the just, till
morning came.

------------------------------------------------------------

Next:
Chapter 2: The Second Day.
Part A: Duel of Engines; A Dream of Blood and Wolves.

'Til next chapter,

Eric Hallstrom, 10/27/99
--
www.kawaiikunee.com/slp/index.html
www.kawaiikunee.com
hal...@mindspring.com
kaw...@kawaiikunee.com

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