Daruma 1/2 [FanFic]

[Bridget Ellen Engman]

P
DARUMA 1/2

A Ranma 1/2 Fanfiction

All characters the property of Rumiko Takahashi

Before I begin -- what is a Daruma doll? Daruma is the Japanese name
for the Buddhist Bodhidharma, and the Daruma doll is a papier-mache
representation of this Bodhisattva. It may come in various sizes, but
it always has the same appearance. Short, squat, and somewhat egg-shaped,
it is painted red with a pink face and gold decorative paint. Its face
has white eyes, a red nose and mouth, and fierce-looking black "eyebrows"
and other "facial hair" (I am assuming that is what these marks represent;
I am not absolutely sure). Westerners often see Daruma dolls in ads in
Mangajin and other such magazines, or for sale in international in-flight
shopping brochures. :)

The general use of a Daruma doll is as an inspiration/prayer for success
in some endeavor, be it an entrance exam or a prize fight. One paints
one of the Daruma's eyes black when one has chosen a goal. (I do not know
whether it is actually common to write one's goal on the front or not, but
I have found it useful for this narrative.) Until one achieves that goal,
the other eye is left blank, and in the meanwhile, the Daruma stares at
you with his single eye...

If Takahashi has done a story premised on a Daruma doll, I must apologize
for repeating her, but although I have frequently *seen* them in her
manga (for example, Ryouga often gives them as miyage) I have never read
such a story of hers, so forgive me.

In any case, the story begins...

(April 12)

"Miss Martial Arts Essay Contest"
Topis: "Women in the Martial Arts"
Due April 17
Be Prepared to Defend You Paper!

Akane read the pamphlet again before folding it neatly and putting it back
in her skirt pocket, smiling in anticipation as she walked through the
market. *Finally!* she thought triumphantly. *A contest I can really
win! Shampoo and Ukyou won't even think of entering, and Ranma probably
couldn't care less about an essay contest.* Already her essay was beginning
to take shape in her mind, a masterpiece of the Japanese language, a
scripture for aspiring female martial artists! Only five days to write it,
of course... she would have to work especially hard to have it perfected
in such a short time.

One of the displays she was about to pass caught her eye -- perhaps it was
the banner proclaiming "Achieve Your Goals with a Daruma Doll! Guaranteed
to Inspire Hard Work and Success!" Akane leaned in to take a closer look
at the display. Row after row of Daruma dolls glistened in the sunlight,
their blank white eyes staring vacantly into space.

"You have need of inspiration, yes?"

The voice startled her, and she nearly knocked over the table when she
jumped back. A few of the dolls wobbled precariously before regaining
equilibrium. The vendor loomed above his merchandise, his fierce black
eyebrows and sideburns eerily reflecting the painted faces on the table.
But unlike the dolls, his eyes were a gleaming black, intense enough
that Akane took another step back before she knew it. Pulling herself
together, she nodded.

"I'm working on a very important project right now," she said, patting
the pocket she had put the pamphlet in. "I could sure use some
inspiration."

"Ah!" the vendor replied, his eyes narrowing. "You are in need of a
*special* Daruma then. Here I have our deluxe model, only 1000 yen. It
absolutely will not permit you to fail." He reached behind the counter
and slowly pulled out a Daruma that was a full foot high. It overwhelmed
its brethren on the table with more than just size -- somehow, the paint
seemed brighter, the features more bold. Akane blinked and the illusion
of greatness passed, the red paint fading to a bearable brightness. But
her decision had been made in that moment of unbearable intensity, and she
pulled the money out of her purse in almost a trance.

When Akane arrived at the Tendou Doujou, the Daruma wrapped in tissue
paper in a plain brown shopping bag, Ranma was fighting with his father in
the hallway, apparently over one of Kasumi's cookies. She tried to slip
past them, but a sudden dodge brought Ranma directly into her path and the
two of them crashed to the floor, the shopping bag flying into the wall.
Akane found herself lying beneath Ranma, their faces close together.

The two of them froze, looking into each other's eyes for a long, tense
moment. When Ranma didn't get up immediately, Akane swallowed nervously,
her eyes straying to his lips. *What's wrong? Is he going to kiss me?...
Do I want him to?* Shying away from that unnerving thought, she suddenly
recalled the Daruma and tossed Ranma aside, looking around frantically
for her bag.

"Geez, what'd you do that for?" Ranma grumbled, dusting off his pants and
glaring at his father, who had eaten the cookie and was nonchalantly
strolling away. "It was an accident, it wasn't like I was gonna molest
you or nothin'..." Akane ignored the temptation to boot him through the
nearest wall and ran her fingers over the Daruma, checking for cracks.
Miraculously, it seemed undamaged, and she drew herself to her feet, clutching
it protectively to her chest. Ranma peeked over her shoulder inquisitively.

"What's that, Akane?" Akane sniffed haughtily and turned slightly away.

"I'm entering a contest," she snapped. "The Miss Martial Arts Essay Contest."

"Heeey! So you got a Daruma doll... do you *really believe in that stuff?"

"And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Well, I suppose you need all the help you can get, especially if the grade
on penmanship, but a stupid superstition isn't going to help that..."

Akane finally yielded to temptation and tossed him out to the pond, stomping
up the stairs to her room.

Akane tenderly placed the Daruma upon her desk and rummaged in her drawer for
brush and ink. *That darn Ranma!* she fumed as she set up her inkstone
and dampened her brush. *He needs to stop being so thoughtless... nearly
destroying my Daruma, insulting me, and he even almost... almost...* For a
moment, the image of Ranma's face, close to hers, flashed into her mind.
What was that expression in his eyes...? She had seen it before, she knew,
but then, as now, it had been somehow unfathomable. But surely some part of
her understood, the part that melted under that look, the part that was
suspiciously quivering even now...

She shook her head sharply, returning her attention to the project at hand.
*What should I write?* she wondered, dipping her brush into the inkstone's
well and absently stroking it across the stone. *'Win the "Miss Martial
Arts Essay Contest'? -- no, too long. 'Write Essay'? -- no, too dull...*
After a moment, she laboriously wrote two characters on the Daruma's
stomach in lopsided shaky calligraphy.

"'Success' -- that's the ticket!" She dipped the brush again and gripped
the Daruma, leaning close to fill in one of the blank white eyes. As she
applied the brush, though, the eyes before her somehow became those of Ranma,
that unreadable expression in his eyes, and Akane was suddenly filled with
wistful yearning. *If he wanted to kiss me, why didn't he? I wish... I
wish...* But what she wished for, she could not even articulate to herself.

A sudden chill swept over her, and she noticed with some surprise that while
she had been lost in thought, she had finished painting the Daruma's eye.
A single, perfect black circle gazed at her. Its perfection nearly frightened
her -- had she ever before drawn an exact circle? Even using a compass, her
circles tended to loung to one side, or to vary wildly in radius. But this
eye was as perfect as a coin, a bubble of ineffable blackness... Akane
shivered and abruptly set down her brush, spattering ink over her desk. She
blinked and, suddenly realizing what she had done, jumped up and ran from
the room in search of a towel to mop up the spill.

Behind her, the Daruma's single remaining white eye seemed to glow, as if
in promise, or perhaps something else...

The spill cleaned up and her calligraphy tools put away, Akane set the
Daruma on her bookshelf and took in hand a pencil -- more mundane than the
brush, to be sure, but erasable and easier to write legibly with. Rolling
up her sleeve, she confidently placed her pencil upon the paper to write
the first of those golden words of wisdom that glowed within her head.
*Here goes!* she thought, mentally howling a battle-cry.

Twenty minutes later, when Kasumi came to get her for dinner, the paper was
still as pristine and blank as the Daruma's second eye, gazing accusingly
at her from the shelf.

That night, Akane slept uneasily. Her dreams were oddly disturbing, though
certainly not what she would call terrifying. She walked down an endless
dark alley, knowing that she was being followed by... something. A dark
shape behind her, a flash or red, of black... Whenever she turned to look,
it was gone, dancing with a gleam of gold into her peripheral vision,
mocking her with its elusiveness. And throughout this, Akane felt a burning
urgency -- not fear, but the feeling that something was incomplete, and that
she could not stop, could not rest until she was successful...

At the sound of her alarm clock, she groggily sat up, rubbing her eyes.
*Have I really slept all night?* she thought in disbelief. *It feels
like I just went to bed...*

She was less than coherent at school that day, and she could sense Ranma
giving her odd glances all through class. Perhaps it was because, in her
sleepiness, she had forgotten to fight with him. Yet it seemed there was
almost a worried cast to his glances, and had she not been so tired she
might have wondered at it more.

By the time she and Ranma started their walk home, Akane was yawning almost
continuously. After a few more sidelong glances, Ranma spoke up.

"What's with you, Akane?" he muttered, almost -- but not quite -- gently.
"You haven't been yourself today." Akane yawned again.

"I had some weird dreams last night, so I didn't sleep very well."

"That would explain it," Ranma grinned wickedly. "After all, you were so
cute and nice and quiet today. You didn't even try to hit me once! This is
the first day that's ever happened..." Akane stopped dead in her tracks,
gazing at the ground. ranma broke off for a moment, stopping to squat on
the fence. "What's wrong?"

Akane looked up at him slowly, her weariness evident in the strain around
her eyes. A small smile touched her lips and she walked over to the fence.

Moments later, a loud splash and a louder female screech rent the air, as
Akane continued to wend her weary way home.

"Wouldn't want to break a perfect record."

At home, Akane sat again at her desk, where that single sheet of white paper
still lay, mocking her. For a moment she stared at the paper, but her eyes
were slowly drawn to the Daruma on her shelf. There was something different
about it, but she couldn't figure out exactly what it was. Maybe it was
her imagination -- she evn seemed to notice a change in its expression, from
paternally stern to angry, and of course that was impossible...

*All right,* she commanded herself. *First thing to do is draw up an
outline.* She promptly began to scribble down headings and subheadings, but
after only a few words it seemed as if each new phrase, each character, each
line she drew was wwighed down. Soon it was a struggle to come up with
anything. But she persevered, the Daruma's baleful stare boring into her.

It was an hour later when she finally had a general outline to work from, and
when she wrote the last character, she found herself snatching up the paper
and brandishing it like a shield before the Daruma. "See!" she cried.
"I did it! I'm making progress!" But that stare kept on, the single white
eye unblinking. *What am I doing?* Akane thought wildly, the paper
trembling in her hands. Moving very slowly and carefully, she placed the
paper on the desk and left the room.

That night, before she went to sleep, Akane turned the Daruma around so that
its lopsided glare was aimed towards her English textbooks instead of her
bed. *Inspiration is one thing,* she rationalized, *but a girl's gotta
sleep.*

And yet when the dreams came that night they were sharper and more urgent
than the night before. As she hurried down the alley, she was seized by a
compulsion to get a good look at the thing that was following her. If she
could only see it, she knew she would understand. But each time she turned,
it vanished so, as the night before, she was left with only a vague
impression of color -- red, and black, and gold -- and that impression was
all that remained with her when she awoke.

When she opened her eyes, the Daruma was staring at her.

She could not stop thinking about the colors that entire, interminable day;
she was exhausted again, and her mind simply would not obey her. Three of
her teachers snapped at her to pay attention, yet she could not concentrate.
Worst of all, Ranma would not leave her alone. Every time she turned around,
he was making little verbal jabs, always with an odd combination of
anticipation and worry in his dark eyes. But somehow she could not even
summon up the energy to slap him, and the day passed without a single fight.

After his persistent obnoxiousness throughout the day, Ranma was
uncharacteristically silent on the way home. Akane barely noticed, her mind
still a whirl of red and black and gold. When she trudged through the
doorway of her room, she was struck suddenly by the sight of the Daruma --
red and black and gold! *That's what I'm dreaming of!* she thought in
near-triumph. But somehow the enlightnement that she had believed would
come with that realization still eluded her.

Not a single character would come from her pencil, though she stared at
her outline hard enough to bore holes in it. Finally, in a fury of
exhaustion, she tore her outline to shreds, flinging them towards the
Daruma. They fluttered to the floor in front of the bookcase, and she
buried her face in her arms on the desk until Nabiki called her to dinner.
As she left the room, she shoved the Daruma into her closet, behind her
dresses, so that it would not be waiting for her that evening.

The dreams returned that night, and in them Akane found herself brimming
with anger and frustration. *I know what you are!* her dream-self
screamed. *Just leave me alone! Let me rest!* The colors danced just out
of her sight, and she turned this way and that, never quite seeing the
Daruma, though she knew it was there. Suddenly the alley took a turn --
she saw the colors dance around the corner, and she rounded it herself, to
confront -- Ranma?

He stood there before her in his red Chinese shirt, its clasps gleaming
gold, his black pants and hair blending into darkness. And that look, that
unspeakable look was in his eyes...

With a gasp, Akane awoke, shivering uncontrollably. *Why am I dreaming
about Ranma?* she wondered frantically, her eyes darting to her bookshelf
where the daruma sat again, its eyes seeming to glow, one brilliant white,
one deepest black. As if an afterthought, her alarm beeped, and she
automatically shut it off, her eyes never leaving the daruma.

The day seemed more like a dream than her night had been, and when she stood
in her room again after dinner that evening she could recall none of it,
though she must have done something as the day passed. It was as if nothing
existed in truth but the Daruma.

"What do you want from me?" she cried, her fists clenched at her sides. The
Daruma loomed over her, unbending and stern. Yet there was something
different about it, and Akane's thoughts raced wildly trying to figure out
what it was. Blinking furiously, she stared and stared until a sudden
realization made her gasp.

The wavering calligraphy with which she had written the two kanji for
"success" had changed, the number of lines decreasing while the remaining
strokes shifted and became bolder, plainer. What remained were two simple
katakana syllables: kisu.

"Kiss? What does that have to do with..." Her chaotic thoughts suddenly
focused with crystal clarity on a single event. Filling in the Daruma's
eye, her thoughts wandering as she did so, and settling on that moment
she though Ranma might... and she wanted him to...

*I have to kiss Ranma?* she thought incredulously. The Daruma seemed to
pulse in response to her thought, and once again it faded in her eyes to be
replaced by Ranma's face.

"You have _got_ to be kidding!" she muttered.

Akane was determined not to give in, and she resolutely hid the Daruma in
a drawer that night as she went to bed, steeling herself for the dreams she
knew would come. But they didn't come after all, because Akane couldn't
sleep. Even with the Daruma shoved behind her socks, she could still feel
it watching her, and it barely fazed her when at four in the morning the
Daruma reappeared on her shelf while she rubbed her eyes. As her alarm
mocked her sleeplessness with its cheerful beep, she bowed her head before
the Daruma, running her hand over her eyes.

"All right," she whispered brokenly. "I'll do it."

Having made her resolution, Akane soon realized that it was harder to
execute than one might think. She had never _tried_ to get anyone to
kiss her, and she realized with dismay that she had no idea how to go
about it. She briefly toyed with such ploys as forcing Ranma to revert to
the neko-ken technique, so that his sensual cat-psyche would be more
receptive and Ranma's memory would simultaneously be obliterated, but
somehow she knew that even if such tactics worked, the Daruma would see through
them and refuse to release her. *I guess I'll have to convince him while
he's sentient...* she mused, a bubble of hysteria rising up in her at what
she was contemplating.

Seduction, then, was the goal. Not much could be done about her school
uniform -- it was almost depressing how prim it was. *If only we wore
nice, short sailor suits...* she griped. The school's dress code was in
her way... a reckless demon inside Akane reminded her that Ranma and Kunou
got away with uniform violations daily, so why shouldn't she? She wouldn't
go quite so far -- she'd wear the dress. But with a few alterations, a bit
of makeup... Luckily, her lack of sleep hadn't left her with bags under
her eyes -- perhaps she had the daruma to thank for that -- and now that
she was getting involved, her fatigue was fading.

The startled look on Ranma's face when she went down for breakfast that
morning gave her courage, and she smiled brightly, trying to look kissable,
however that looked. Odd -- she was blushing; an added boon for her
performance, to be sure, but not something she could normally do on
command. As she sipped her miso soup (*Seductively!* she thought. *Sip
seductively!*) she glanced at Ranma from beneath her lashes to find him
watching her. Smiling wryly, she caught his eye, then coyly looked away.
*This is fun!* she realized with some surprise.

Knowing that Ranma would be walking on the fence above her, she had paid
close attention to the bird's-eye view, replacing her uniform blouse with
a more low-cut one. *Nudity wouldn't do it,* she had thought cannily.
*He sees Shampoo and himself naked all the time. But a little strategic
lace and subtle exposure, so it seems unplanned... _that_ could make him
nervous.* Sure enough, it was working -- about halfway to school, Ranma
leapt down, his face flaming. Akane flashed him a brilliant, triumphant
smile, accompanied by what she hoped was a "come-hither" look. Success
was at hand!

By lunchtime, however, her patience was wearing thin. *I wish he'd just
get a clue and pucker up!* she grumbled to herself, crossing her knees so
that Ranma was given a good flash of leg and absently socking an unusually
amorous Kunou across the room. Ranma had been blushing most of the day,
and somehow she knew he was watching her, but if anything he was avoiding
her more than ever. Obviously she was doing something wrong -- but just
in case, she kept up the assault all day.

When dinner was served, Akane was ready to scream. Even the cutoff shorts
and ruffled poet's shirt she had borrowed from an amused Nabiki after
school weren't doing their job. When Ranma excused himself to go practice
in the doujou, she stood and, forcing a smile, offered to help. After a
long pause, Ranma consented, strain evident in his voice.

Akane set up training blocks and sat back to watch. She had hoped to
use this opportunity to further her cause, but soon she was absorbed in
watching Ranma run through kata. *He really is good...* she thought, for
once without a trace of jealousy. *A bit off his timing tonight, but...*
(she giggled) *...that's to be expected.* The flow of punches and kicks
and soaring leaps was almost hypnotic, and she could feel her tension
draining away. The thought of the Daruma, and the price of her freedom,
faded from her mind, and her eyelids grew heavy...

Suddenly, Ranma stopped in the middle of a routine, his back to Akane.
Akane was startled and stood up, but Ranma's voice, tight and strangled,
stopped her in her tracks.

"Thanks for the help, Akane," he muttered. "see ya." With a bound, he
was out the door.

"Wait!" Akane cried, but he was gone. Snarling, she knocked the practice
blocks across the hall. Her exhaustion returned with the force of a blow,
and she ground her teeth in frustration. How was she supposed to kiss
someone who wouldn't let her near him?

Her footsteps dragged as she went to her room, knowing what she would find
yet unable to stay away. As her door swung open, the Daruma's forbidding
miasma engulfed her, and she stumbled in to lie on her bed, staring blankly
at the ceiling, those terrible eyes never wavering.

Sleep yet evaded her that evening, but her mind, stretched to the limits
of exhaustion, wavered between insane images -- now the Daruma, now Ranma,
now both -- and an odd lucidity in which her wild thoughts created and
rejected plan after plan after plan. Slowly, painfully, the night passed.

The next day was the weekend, and at first Akane could not even convince
herself to leave her bed. A fatalistic lethargy had settled in her muscles,
and she numbly realized that unless she fulfilled her goal soon she might
not be doing anything ever again. Breakfast was long past and lunch was fast
approaching when she heard a knock on her door and Ranma's concerned voice
calling her name.

Galvanized into action, she lunged for the door and yanked it open. Ranma
stood outside, hands shoved in his pockets, a strange look on his face. Akane
could feel the Daruma's eyes on her, and with a strength born of desperation
she dragged Ranma into the room by his braid, slamming the door and shoving him
against it.

"Akane, what...?" She slammed her hand over his mouth, a crazy light in her
eyes as she abandoned any attempt at subtlety.

"Kiss me!" she commanded, the Daruma urging her onward. Ranma froze, his eyes
widening in shock, but he made no move towards her. What was wrong with him?
she fumed. Couldn't he see the Daruma behind her? Couldn't he feel its
eyes, one black, one white, watching their every move? "Just kiss me Now!"
she hissed again, and when he still didn't move she grabbed his braid and
crushed her lips against his.

For several moments she could feel that the pulse of the Daruma had not
lessened, as the lips under hers remained hard, but in a sudden rush Ranma
relaxed, exhaling through his hose as his arms clasped Akane's waist, and with
that the urgency of the Daruma began to fade, and Akane relaxed as well.

Behind her, the Daruma's gleaming white eye was suddenly filled by a perfect
black circle, and if Akane had been watching she might have seen it...wink?
Slowly the Daruma faded, leaving Akane's bookshelf empty once again.

Akane didn't even notice the Daruma's absence until, a long moment later,
she opened her eyes -- somewhere along the line they had fluttered closed --
and sensed the lack of the force that had driven her to such drastic actions.
She heaved a great sigh of relief -- and remembered Ranma. His hands were
still at her waist, his eyes were closed, and he was breathing very, very
slowly and deliberately. Akane smiled faintly, looking at him. *This
time,* she thought. *This time is for real.* She was about to lift her
face to his again when he spoke, his eyes still closed.

"Akane," he said carefully. "There's something very important I have to
ask you." Akane paused and searched his face, wondering what he could
possibly have to say. "Yes, Ranma?" His eyes suddenly blinked open.

"Weren't you supposed to turn in that essay today?"

Akane stared blankly at him for nearly a minute before the meaning of his
words penetrated her brain. Slowly she swiveled her head to look at the
shreds of her outline by the bookcase, the blank papers on her desk. Her
hand curled into a fist.

"Ranma..." she growled. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!" She hurled him out the
window with an inarticulate howl and flung herself onto her bed, giving in
to the stress of the previous days in a bout of tears.

Flying through the air, Ranma folded his arms in annoyance. *Someday I
may figure out what just happened,* he thought, *but somehow I think it's
better not to know. At least this proves she's back to normal...* a
moment before impact, another thought crossed his mind. *Maybe, just maybe...
I should have waited to ask her about the essay...*

Akane hiccuped and wiped her eyes, her tears spent. *I guess I can count
this project as a loss. There's no way I can finish that essay now...*
Rolling over onto her back, she suddenly smiled to herself, recalling the
kiss. *Well, maybe not a _total_ loss...* With that, her eyes closed and
she drifted off into a hard-earned -- and dreamless -- sleep.

THE END

As always, comments and questions are welcome.

--
BENGMAN * "You're strong like a pig, brawny like a pig,
Bridget Engman * gentle like a pig, wise like a pig, eloquent like
b-engma@students * a pig, cool like a pig -- I've never met a man who
.uiuc.edu * resembled a pig so much!" -- Akari, Ranma 1/2