[Ranma 1/2][FanFic] Kasumi the Wayfarer Chapter 1
Jeremy Harper
A Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction
By
Jeremy Harper
Disclaimer - Ranma 1/2 is the creation of Rumiko Takahashi and is used
without permission.
Chapter 1: A Long Desired Return
>From the top of the stairs Kasumi called down, "I'm going to bed now.
Good night."
"Good night," her sisters and Ranma replied in unison. The
television's audio was set low, so they could hear her gentle
footsteps and the shutting of her bedroom door. Ranma glanced at the
stairs then at the digital clock set in the VCR.
"Kasumi goes to bed pretty early," he commented. "It's only ten
o'clock, and tonight's a Saturday to boot."
"Well, Kasumi has a lot of chores on Sunday and she likes to finish
them early," Akane explained. "She's very responsible, unlike some
people around here I could mention."
"Huh," Ranma snorted. "I also guess that she needs more beauty sleep
than certain tomboys I could mention."
"Jerk."
"Macho chick."
Nabiki just rolled her eyes and watched this latest exchanged with
veiled amusement. Since the fiasco of a wedding that had occurred a
few weeks ago the arguments between Akane and Ranma had deescalated,
becoming playful - almost affectionate - teasing instead of the
cacophonic shouting matches that were once their norm. It could still
be annoying though. Nabiki turned up the TV's volume with the remote.
In her bedroom Kasumi couldn't hear the good-natured bickering. She
sat at her dresser, clad in her nightgown, looking into the mirror as
she brushed her long hair. Her expression was dreamy, her gentle brown
eyes wistful, almost longing. "Maybe tonight, finally..." she murmured
to herself. She set down her hairbrush, rose to her feet and walked to
her bed. She slipped under the covers, checked the clock on her
nightstand to make sure the alarm was set then switched off her lamp.
She pulled her covers up to her shoulders and laid on her back,
staring into the gentle, friendly darkness. "Maybe tonight," she
murmured again. She folded her hands below her breasts, closed her
eyes and with practiced ease fell instantly to sleep.
*****
A pleasant warmth enveloped Kasumi. From a middle distance she heard
birdsong, mellifluous, sweet to the ear, yet queerly alien in a way
that she would be hard pressed to describe if asked to explain. A cool
breeze caressed her gently, almost with a lover's touch. Leaves
rustled, branches creaked. Kasumi opened her eyes, and found herself
standing in a forest glade. Great oaks and maples surrounded her,
their foliage hued a deep, dark emerald and the grass of the sward,
verdantly luxuriously. A noontime sun blazed in a sky bluer than any
she'd ever seen in Japan. She looked down, and found herself not in a
nightgown, or one of her housedresses, but a flowing white blouse,
trimmed with fine lace, and brown deerskin breeches. Instead of house
slippers one her feet she wore sturdy leather boots, their cuffs
flared and folded. A sash of fine purple silk wound about her waist,
tied in a knot at her right hip; a saber sheathed in a fine leather
scabbard was thrust into it by her left hip. A large satchel hung from
a baldric slung across her chest. She raised her hands - covered in
gloves of kidskin - and took off her hat. Its broad brim was folded up
slightly on one side, and a shimmering blue-green peacock's feather
adorned the band that wrapped the base of its crown. She wore no
ribbon in her hair; it flowed down past her shoulders in waves, free
and unbound.
Kasumi threw back her head and laughed joyously. "I'm back!" she
cried, throwing her hat in the air, pirouetting gracefully. She caught
her hat and set it on her head and laughed again. "I'm finally back!"
After a stint of unwanted exile Kasumi had returned to the dreamlands
she had lived and wandered in for nearly a decade. She first dreamed
of this realm not long after her mother's death and since that first
fateful vision she explored and wandered its length and breadth almost
every night. Here she was not Kasumi Tendo, the meek, primly proper,
staunchly traditional daughter of Soun Tendo. Instead she was Kasumi
the Wayfarer, swordswoman, itinerant adventurer, bold and resourceful.
But recently the dreamlands had been barred from her. Worries for her
little sister, abducted by the bird folk of Junsendo, and the stresses
caused by the chaotic wedding her father and Uncle Saotome had
arranged somehow inhibited her from dreaming. But after Akane's safe
return and her improving relationship with Ranma the fears and
anxieties had eventually dissipated; peace had returned to Kasumi's
house, her exile was over. She laughed one more time before taking her
locale into deeper consideration.
Kasumi looked about the forest glade, her lips quirking into a small
half-frown. She knew these woods. It was the Enchanted Forest, a
woodland both beautiful and perilous. Strange creatures roamed its
twisting trails, many of which craved human flesh. Kasumi had hoped
she could have willed herself to someplace more hospitable- Ulthar,
for example, which lay to the west of the forest, situated along the
winding banks of the River Skai. She had managed such feats before,
often saving herself much tedious journeying. Still, she was not
overly concerned. She had traveled through the Enchanted Forest many
times before, and as long as one kept wary and alert it was not too
hazardous a place.
Kasumi shut her eyes and meditated for a moment. She realized that the
spells she last memorized had faded from her mind. She opened her
eyes, loosened her saber in its sheath, and sat down in the shade of
one of the larger trees. From her satchel she produced a small, slim
volume- her grimoire. Kasumi was no true sorcerer, but over the years
she learned a few things about magic. Her mind was supple and strong,
and with some effort could encompass some of the more straightforward
of mystical formulae. Leafing through her grimoire she selected two
spells she deemed would be useful for the short walk to Ulthar - the
Charm of Alacritous Motion and the Spell of the Slow Hour. She poured
over the incantations, pondering the strange logic they represented,
forcing the enigmatic syllables into her mind, where they writhed and
twisted in protest. Kasumi closed her eyes, covering them with a hand,
and in a moment the turmoil subsided. She sighed in relief, snapping
shut the book and returning it to her satchel. She rose, glancing up
at the sun. It had just started its decline. With speed and good
fortune she should reach Ulthar before sunset. Picking out a trail to
the west, she headed off, whistling happily.
The trail snaked through the trees, curving gently and twisting
treacherously in turns. It hunched roughly up rises, poured rapidly
down slopes. Kasumi walked it with wide, confident strides, surefooted
and swift. She whistled or sang when she could spare the breath to
help pass the time, un-fearful of the forest, but not unwary, keeping
her saber close at hand and her spells foremost in her mind. As she
walked along the trail she saw many of the forest's denizens going
about their simple business- birds, squirrels, a few times a deer
foraging in the underbrush or in clearings. More unusual creatures
also caught her eye. Plump Zoogs the size of tanuki poked their round,
furry faces cautiously through the foliage of their trees to peer at
her curiously. Scintillant mynahr birds flitted from bough to branch,
their emerald and ruby plumage glittering in the sunlight, quite
literally sang for their supper. More than once Kasumi shook her head
to clear it of the hypnotic cobwebs the mynahr's music wove. A twk-man
buzzed by, mounted on a golden dragonfly, raising his lance in
friendly salutation as he passed; Kasumi reciprocated with a wave of
her hand. Once a butterfly dragon crossed her path, floating serenely
through the trees, its large prismatic wings barely stirring in the
air. Kasumi observed its grace and beauty in silent admiration.
After a few hours of uneventful travel Kasumi came across a glen where
a silvery brook burbled quietly to itself. She thought she recognized
it. Scaumanu's Brook, if she were correct- named after the forester
from Ulthar that discovered it. It was the westernmost source of water
in the Enchanted Forest, quite close to the woods' periphery. From
here Ulthar was perhaps five miles walk. Kasumi doffed her hat and
wiped her brow with a handkerchief from her pocket. The water looked
refreshing; Scaumanu's Brook was renowned in the area for its purity.
She walked to its bank and kneeled down, putting her hat to one side.
Small, colorful fish swan in the current, poking about the rocks, silt
and plants. She wished she had some line and tackle with her. Roasted
fish would have tasted nice after tramping through the Enchanted
Forest. She peeled off her gloves and placed them neatly in her hat.
She washed her hands, laved the sweat from her face and drank deeply
from the brook, quaffing down handfuls of water to quench her dry
throat. She sighed contentedly and delicately wiped her mouth with her
kerchief.
A faint rustling sounded behind her, from the far side of the glen.
The small, fine hairs on the back of neck rose as a premonitory chill
danced down it. Kasumi spun around swiftly, rising into a crouch. Her
saber rasped free from its scabbard. Something crawled towards her
through the thick sward, something lusterless black, large as a man.
It froze statue-still when it spied her movement, then rose up
serpentine from the ground. It would have looked like a man, a
handsome man dressed in leather harness, if not for the gleaming fangs
so prominent in its mouth, the iron claws curving from its digits, the
large, murky yellow eyes with the slit, cat-like pupils.
Kasumi straightened her stance and pointed her saber at the creature.
'A deodand,' she thought. 'What ill-fortune.' The deodand smiled
widely. Its eyes raked greedily over her body. A long, too narrow
tongue flitted across its fangs. She could feel radiating from it the
intensity of its anthropophagic cravings. They struck her almost like
a physical blow. It held out its hands out to either side as if in
friendly welcome and spoke, its voice a resonant baritone.
"Ah, I recognize you now," the deodand crooned. "Kasumi the Wayfarer.
You are as beautiful, as... delectable... as the stories say. You have
strayed quite far from your usual haunts, I think."
"I have no usual haunts. I have traveled farther than you can
imagine," Kasumi answered. "I wander as I will, beholden to no one and
causing no harm without just provocation. It is a philosophy that
would profit you this day to adopt, deodand." Kasumi twisted her
wrist, making a tight cut in the air with the tip of her saber.
"What barbaric times we live in, when just-met strangers make such
boorish and unwarranted threats," the deodand murmured pettishly.
"Your sword looks fine, though. How it catches the sunlight! Is it
sharp?"
"Quite sharp, and very strong. It was wrought by the smiths of Kaiin,
the finest swordmakers in the world." Kasumi flourished the weapon in
question. "Note well the rune of puissance engraved on the blade, the
blessed ribbon tied above the pommel. It is a weapon of the highest
quality, and I am proficient in its use."
"Yes, yes, but do you think that will be enough, when brought to the
task? I have heard that you know something of magic, Kasumi. Are you
with spells today?"
"I am. The spells I know are of excellent brevity and power. You will
have to find your supper elsewhere, deodand."
"Perhaps, but I think not." With a slim claw the deodand pointed over
Kasumi's shoulder. "Even now my brother comes behind you, foolish
girl. He shall strike your head off your shoulders ere you blink."
Kasumi turned quickly, raising her saber to ward off an attack. But
nothing was behind her, and the deodand sprang as she turned. But
Kasumi expected such treachery and jumped back, the monster's claws
missing her by the thickness of her skin. It pivoted to strike at her
again and she uttered urgently the Spell of the Slow Hour. The air
twisted and shimmered about the deodand, and its motions slowed by
half, then by half again. Kasumi almost casually stepped out of the
way of its lethargically swung claw then lunged with her saber. The
blade flashed three times, piercing the deodand once through the
shoulder, twice through the chest, high and low. The air shimmered
around the deodand again. It fell writhing to the ground, blood
spurting on the grass, staining the verdant stalks black. Grimacing in
distaste Kasumi dispatched it, stabbing it through the throat. The
deodand twitched once violently and lay still.
Kasumi wiped her saber on the sward, cleaning it of blood. Her lips
were pursed in a tight, thin line. What an unfortunate way for her
return to her dreamlands to begin. She wished no harm to any creature,
but she was worldly enough to understand that not all shared such an
enlightened belief. Her sojourns had made her pragmatic; if threatened
by unreasoning violence she was more than capable of making the
offender regret his incivility. But she would never like doing so.
Pointedly avoiding looking at the deodand's corpse, she sheathed her
saber, donned her hat and gloves and started west. She heard more
rustling in the underbrush and looked over her shoulder. Several zoogs
had waddled out of hiding, eagerly approaching the slain deodand,
licking their furry lips. Kasumi grimaced and left the glen as swiftly
as her dignity would allow.
Another hour of walking passed before Kasumi reached the end of the
Enchanted Forest. She stepped free from the tree line and the thick
shadows, out onto a grassy rise. The Skai River Valley stretched out
before her, green, pleasant and peaceful. On the far horizon the sun
wearily sank behind the sharp, distant peaks of the Magnatz Mountains,
its tired light painting the valley in red and shadows, transmuting
the River Skai into a curving line of ruddy gold. A cool breeze blew
from the west. Kasumi sat down in the grass, taking off her hat and
drawing her knees to her chest, content to watch the sunset for a few
minutes in quiet introspection. Along the southern banks of the River
Skai were the neat, white cottages of the town of Ulthar. She could
see the villagers, made miniscule by distance, going about their last
minute chores, preparing to settle in for the night after a day of
honest labor. Boatmen moored their craft at the dock. Storekeepers
closed the shutters of their shops. Housewives called their children
in from play. One by one lamps and candles flickered on in the
cottages. Kasumi stood up and descended down a well-trod trail leading
to the village. Twilight had come and was swiftly darkening when she
reached Ulthar. She made her way to the inn she favored, her boots
clicking on the streets' cobblestones. Few people were out, but those
who saw her greeted her warmly, for she was well known and liked in
Ulthar. She returned their welcomes with bright smiles, glad to have
finally returned. She had grown up in this town, playing with the town
children, consorting with its numerous, ubiquitous cats, learning the
ways of these dreamlands at the feet of far-flung travelers. In many
ways Ulthar was more of her home then the house in Tokyo she had been
born in. Kasumi dearly loved her father and her sisters, but here in
Ulthar she was free, free to be the type of woman she wished she could
be in the waking world, unfettered by the duties of house and home
that had been thrust upon her when she was so young...
Kasumi sighed and shook her head, banishing such melancholy
ruminations from her mind. She entered a large two-story building, a
wooden sign hanging over its door, an illustration of a tankard
brimming with foam painted on it. Lamps and the roaring fireplace
brightly illuminated the inn's common room. The many patrons ate,
drank and chattered merrily. The master of the Overflowing Tankard,
old Ranson, welcomed Kasumi, waddling out from behind the bar and
giving her a fatherly hug. Kasumi laughed and kissed him on the cheek.
He beamed happily and escorted her to a table near the fireplace,
ordering one of his serving maids to fetch food and fine wine. They
talked for a little while before duty called him away, Ranson
informing Kasumi of events great and small that had passed during her
absence. She listened with interest, and ate her dinner of gamebird,
soup, cheese and bread with gusto, her appetite sharp after the long
hike from the Enchanted Forest. Night wore on, and one by one people
retired, seeking their rooms or houses. Kasumi was content to sit
before the fire, staring into it drowsily and sipping sweet wine.
Finally she yawned and inquired to Ranson about a room for the night.
He led her upstairs to a large chamber, its window overlooking the
inn's courtyard, and bid her goodnight. Once her door was shut and
locked she set aside her saber and satchel and untied her sash. Along
with her hat and gloves she placed them neatly on a chair. She stepped
to the window, opening its shutters so she could look up at the night
sky. The stars twinkled, diamonds strewn on black velvet; the moon
floated among them, flat and full, glowing with a diffused, white
light. Kasumi shut her window and undressed for bed. She slipped into
bed, naked under the blankets, and quickly fell into a pleasant
slumber.
*****
Nabiki watched her sister as she hummed happily to herself as she
prepared breakfast. "You seem chipper today Kasumi," she commented.
Kasumi nodded. "Yes, I had a very good night's sleep."
"Oh? Did you have any interesting dreams?" Nabiki asked, grinning.
Kasumi paused and looked at her younger sister with a small, pursed
smile. Something mischievous flashed in her brown eyes.
"Well, I did have a few dreams, but I doubt they would be of any
interest to you, Nabiki. Could you go tell everyone that breakfast
will be ready shortly?"
Nabiki blinked, a little puzzled by her older sister's demeanor. "Ah,
sure Sis." She left the kitchen with a thoughtful expression. Nabiki
thought she knew how to read people, deduce their intentions and
tendencies, but Kasumi had always been an enigma to her. She seemed so
simple, yet sometimes Nabiki sensed hidden depths within her... Nabiki
shook her head and called her extended family down to breakfast.
/////
Author's Notes:
The dream realm Kasumi adventures in is an unsubtle amalgamation of
H.P. Lovecraft's Dreamlands and Jack Vance's Dying Earth.
Comments and criticism are welcome, and can be directed to
Dori...@aol.com.
Thank you for your time and tolerance,
Jeremy Harper