Well, here's the next bit of Soul of Ice, posted for completion's
sake, and because Soul of Ice: Thesis will be coming out shortly
this week.

Ranma 1/2 is the creation of Rumiko Takahashi and not myself.
I have no rights or permission to Ranma 1/2. Hmmmm... that about
covers it, really. Oh yeah, did I mention I'm not doing this for
profit? Comments, criticisms and the like are, as always, nice.


Preface:

    I've talked about Soul of Ice being a part of a tradition and
also of it not being part of the same tradition, but what is it
about?
    I see a story, or a set of stories about choices. It is a story
about growing up and about becoming. It is a story of the choices
we make and they shape us. It is a tale about the journey to
adulthood. It is a story (or set thereof) about perspective, about
how people see the world, and about how people can see the same
thing in totally different lights and yet still both be correct. 
    I see a story where Ranma is being asked one question, the same
question all of us face at one time or another, even if we do not
recognise it as such at the time: "What kind of person do I want to
be?"
    Or maybe I see a fight, a war, if you will, between mind and
heart, chaos and order and the line of balance in between. Maybe I
see it as a study in extremism, and its effects.
    Or maybe I'm a pretentious bastard.... Well, okay, I _am_ a
pretentious bastard, but maybe some of the other stuff's true too,
eh? ^^



                Soul of Ice: Counterpoint



    "Wake up."

    Ranma mumbled something unintelligibly in his sleep, and
shouldered the blanket slightly higher.

    "Wake up, Ranma," again the calm voice requested. Again, the
calm voice was denied.

    The owner of the voice sighed. Obviously more drastic measures
were required. "Sweeto!" 

    Ranma was wide-awake and sitting bolt upright, ready to pound
the lecher that was on his... her, breasts. Only... only Ranma was
a he, and there was no one latched onto his chest, or any other
part of him for that matter (having awakened in this predicament
before, one of his first actions upon waking was now to check and
see if there was anyone else attached to him).

    "Whaddaya want, pervert?" Ranma asked in a peeved tone, due in
part (but only in part) to being awoken at this earlier than normal
hour.

    The main reason for Ranma's tone would be to the person who
woke him at such an hour: Happousai.

    "To talk, that's all. This is no place to talk, too many
distractions and too many ears, if you know what I mean. Get
dressed. I'll be on the roof when you're ready."

    "Why should I? Why shouldn't I just go back to sleep instead?"

    "I heard," Happousai said in a too casual tone, "that you had a
talk with Cologne the other day. Can we also not have a
discussion?" 

    Something in Happousai's words or in his tone convinced Ranma,
who merely nodded and waited for the aged martial artist to hop out
the window and onto the roof. Ranma changed silently in the
darkness of early morning (or late night, depending on your
perspective) without turning a light on so as to not wake his
father up (not that Ranma really cared if Genma had a good night's
sleep, mind you, but Happousai seemed insistent that no one
overhear their conversation, and Ranma would respect that wish).
    Upon reaching the roof, Ranma saw Happousai standing there with
an inscrutable expression on his face. A quick gesture with his
head, nothing more than a cocking to one side, and then Happousai
was off, running and leaping with a speed astonishing even for one
a quarter the age of the shrunken man.
    Ranma took the obvious invitation and followed. Their early
morning journey took them from rooftop to a secluded park similar
to the one Cologne had talked to Ranma in before; similar, but not
the same. Their journey crossed worlds, from the darkness of night
into the dim light of false dawn.
    Happousai alighted on the dew-covered grass with an ease that
would have drawn envy in any feline, had there been any around to
witness the feat. Ranma touched down with scarcely less grace,
barely moving the individual blades of grass not directly under his
feet.

    "So," said Happousai, face inscrutable and voice monotone.

    "So," agreed Ranma. "You wanted to talk, so talk."

    "Cologne offered to teach you, didn't she, Ranma? To become
her, and only her, student, yes?"

    "Yeah."

    Happousai sighed. "I wasn't going to do this, Ranma m'boy, but
she's forced my hand. It's not something I like to do, you see."

    "What's that, apologise for all the crap you've put me
through?"

    Happousai barked out a short laugh, ignoring the sarcasm.
"Hardly. You know me better than that. I don't regret what I did,
not one bit.
    "No, I'm going to explain some things to you, and I'm only
going to do it once.
    "She probably gave you some story about her and about me,
right? Something about what Anything Goes does to you. Am I right
so far?"

    "Pretty much. So? You gonna disagree with what she says? She's
right about Mr. Tendo, pops an' Akane, y'know. I don't wanna end up
like that."

    "But she's wrong, Ranma, she's wrong. Anything Goes, true
Anything Goes, isn't like that. Not like that at all. Before I tell
you what we are, let me tell you about Cologne and her training
first. She's unfeeling, inhuman. She focuses on control and
manipulation. Cold, cold, cold, that's what she is, frozen and
unfeeling and static. No joy or anything at all-- nothing. She
would force everyone to dance to her tune, like puppets for her
amusement with no thought of what they want."

    "She ain't normally interested in what we do. Heck, we're the
ones that go to her for advice an' stuff."

    "You see? She's training you already, like a dog. Come here
boy! Fetch! Good boy, don't piss on the carpet or else it's a swat
for you!" Happousai mimicked.
    "She's making you dependant on her, boy, while at the same time
looking like she could care less! That's what she does, how she
works, how she operates. Do you think she really cares about you?
about anyone? Feh, you're just a means to an end for her, that's
all."

    Means to an end? 

    A prize to be won, like his fiancees seemed to believe, and
nothing more? 

    "And what, you're just mister compassionate, aren't you?" Ranma
asked, more to try and gain some time to reorient himself than for
an actual answer.

    "Not compassion, Ranma, but _passion_!" the old man whispered
harshly.

    "Now, let me tell you about our school, about what we aren't
and what we are. 
    "They're wrong about you; she's wrong about you, Ranma--
Akane's wrong! You're not the pervert, her family is!" Happousai's
face contorted with a brief spasm of rage. "The Tendos have
perverted my school. It was never meant like that. They aren't
practising Anything Goes, but instead some mockery of it!"

    When they practice it at all. How long has it been since Mr.
Tendo did any training whatsoever?

    Happousai changed tack now, his voice coming down, becoming low
and sibilant. "Your father, now he's a true master of our style, or
he was at least. Not anymore though. Not since he sealed away the
Umisenken and the Yamisenken.
    "Our style... what we practice.... Our philosophy is to enjoy
ourselves. We use what makes us happy to become better martial
artists. Your father knew this, once. He created a set of
techniques based upon getting things from people. I, well, you know
about my focus.
    "The Tendos-- Soun isn't a practitioner. What does he do but
sit around and mope and cry at the least little thing. He gets no
joy from his tears, only more tears and more heartache-- if he ever
learned the Shi shi hokoudan I would actually be worried about
him.... 
    "Akane... bah! She barely practices. Protest as much as she
wants, whine as much as she wants, but you know as well as I that
she's not one of us; Akane is not really a martial artist. She
doesn't have the commitment to the Art it takes. Would she give her
life over to the Art, like you have, like you would? Hah! Never,
she would never consider that. She doesn't even regularly practice
anymore. You know this at least as well as I do, I know you do."

    Ranma knew. He might not have acknowledged it on a conscious
level, but deep within the marrow of his bones, he knew. Hearing it
though, that was a different kind of knowledge with implications he
needed time to think about.
 
    Happousai continued his monologue, oblivious to Ranma's current
internal struggles. "I'll tell you something else, just because I'm
feeling nice (unsettling as that sounds); that's the real reason
she gets mad at you, Ranma. Because, against you and almost
everyone who came here because of you, Akane finally sees her
inadequacy. She constantly has reminders of her lack of commitment
to the Art, or maybe even in general, I don't know and can't say.
She's forced to see that she isn't a martial artist after all, and
she can't handle that.
    "That's important because our school is about adapting our
desires to make a style. If she was a true member of our school, if
she really wanted to be a martial artist, wanted to hold her own
against us bad enough, she might be able to use that want to form
her own style. 
    "Why do you think I haven't actually taught you anything? you,
who are to be my heir, Ranma? You've got to make your own
particular style, your own sets of moves based on what motivates
you the most-- that's our true power. All I've done is offer you
the opportunity to find your style. Everything I've done to you has
only made you a stronger fighter, a better opponent, Ranma, while
leaving you your freedom. You can be sure Cologne won't let you
have that. With her, there is only one correct way-- hers."

    "You're saying all the shit you've put me through was just
training? All your panty-raids and stuff were for my benefit?"
Ranma protested incredulously.

    Happousai's laughter barked out once more. "Of course not! I'm
a dirty old man, and I _like_ women's panties, I _like_ stealing
them and caressing a woman's breasts. Yeah, I do those things
because I enjoy doing them, but they also serve as training for
you, since you have to stop me."

    "So what you're sayin' is that I should make my own style
then?"

    "Yeah, one based on you're prime motivation, Ranma. What you
think defines you, whether it be your stubbornness (heavens and
hells know you're the most stubborn person I ever knew), your
pride, whatever. Take it, take that focus and use it to drive your
own personal style. 
    "Become my heir, Ranma. Find what it is that drives you, that
one essential feature which defines you the most, what you enjoy
the most and use that to perfect your technique."

    The old master turned from Ranma and walked east out of the
enclosure, back into the world and into the risen sun. Ranma
watched him leave and then made his own way through the world of
the trees, as the morning sun filtered through the leaves and made
strange patterns on the wooded floor.






Strange ramblings from a stranger man: 

    You know, I like this series, or at least some of the questions
it hopes to tackle. 
	Who's right? Cologne? Happousai? Then again, who said that
one of them had to be right, and the other had to be wrong? Why
can't they both be wrong, or why can't they both be right?
    Maybe it isn't about right or wrong at all, maybe such a 
value system as right and wrong does not enter into the picture. 
	Right? wrong? Does it matter? How do I look at the series?
Again, does it matter?


Side note: Been writing like an sunovab**** lately, so
expect a fair amount of stuff from me this week. The
next part of When Ranma Was Two (which I didn't put in
some of the stuff I was planning on putting in, but they
didn't really fit). WRWT2 surprised me in a couple of
ways, I didn't expect certain things to happen. One or
two small errors in part one have been corrected (the
tense thing, for one, should be mostly fixed now, I
hope. I can't believe I screwed that one up; I usually
was good when I will be doing that). ^_^;;


Matthew "Maybeso" Lewis is:
InDefinitelyso on IRC
See him on FFIRC [bachman.newberry.edu fanfic]
Sojiro_Seta on Kawaiimuck
	maybeso@ican.net
Playing the fool in a foolish world
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Sheen watched his flight. "I forgot to mention the most
important thing," he murmured. "If there's one thing a mind
can't avoid, it is its automatic aversion to evil. The
moment he lets it into himself, he places his feet on the
road to demolition."
 		    -excerpt from A Billion Days of Earth
			by Doris Piserchia
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