/ ____ ___ _ ___ / | \ | \ /\ | | /\ /\ | \ / /\ | \ | \ . | \ | |. / \_/ \ | \ \ / \ | __ \ | _ \ | | | | | | | _ \ /\ \/ / | | \ \ | | \ \ .| | | |.| | | | \ \ / \ \ / | | / / | |__\ | | | \| | | |\ /| |.| |__\ |/ /\ \/ | | / / | | | |\ | |.| | | |.| | | |\ / \ | |/ / .| ___ |.| |.| |.| |.| | | | | ___ /\ \/ / | |\ \ | | .| |.| |.| |.| |.| |.| |.| | ./ |\ / | | \ \ .| | | |.| |..\ |.| |.| |.| | | | /| | \ |_|. \__\ |_|. .|_|.|_|...\/..|_|.|_|.|_|.|_|. \|_| \ /\ \ / Written by Christopher 'Ratiko' Willmore. / \ \ / 4cw6@qlink.queensu.ca / / \/ Based on a story by Rumiko Takahashi and / Developed by C. Michael Schumacher / / [Kensu: cschumac@waun.tdsnet.com], \ / with the aid of Animax Enterprises \/(Logo:Armakuni) [formerly TAAC]. ========================================================================== ZANNEN A Ranma 2096 side-story By Childra Jansen (4cw6@qlink.queensu.ca) ========================================================================== RANMA 2096 CHARACTERS AND SITUATIONS USED WITH PERMISSION OF C. WILLMORE ========================================================================== I beat him. Hard. Blow after blow I pounded on his blackened chest, each impact sending out large chunks of roasted flesh attached to molten silk. Once in a while, a rib of his would crack, or I would feel the pain as my own fingers shattered. I didn't care. With each new ache, I simply grit my teeth and yelled his name. It was HIS fault. How DARE he die? How DARE he leave me, when... We'd been engaged! It's true, we fought, and joked, and said we didn't want it, but at least on my part, I... Throughout it all, a part of me had never really doubted that, when it came time, we would abide by our father's wishes, and be one, as man and wife. IT was with THAT security, THAT claim, that I fought and taunted him... And he deserved it, too! The pervert... But... He was MY pervert. MINE to own, control, and WED. MY fiance. MY Ranma. And he was no more. That little lecher, Happosai, called forth a ghost, and just with that, he took away my happiness, my love, my LIFE! A fifteen-hundred-year-old spirit came to seek his sweetheart, and found her in my fiance's female form. Without a thought to any joy but his, he blasted Ranma - no preamble, explanation. Just glared, and focused, and fired a beam which even Ryouga's Shishi Houkodan would pale by. It hit. I see it now, as I do almost every time I close my eyes - with perfect clarity, and in slow motion. The concentrated beam moves on towards my fiance, and when he notices (too late) what is to come, he puts in front of him a forearm, in a futile, automatic gesture of defense. The ki-blast strikes, and he's knocked back, twisting and pivoting in mid-air, until his body's parallel to the deadly rays. The energetic force propels him back, until he hits a wall. It crumbles, and he dies. I do not know, at first. I rush to him, pick up his head, and rest it in my arms, staring at his now-unmoving face. The smell of charred meat mixes with the liquid of my salty tears and runs into my mouth, all senses striving to inform me of a fact that I will not accept. And then, the ultimate in proof. The corpse twitches, glows, and levitates a foot or two. I let it go, as it rises off the ground. Red ki-flames form, and shine, and coalesce into a luminescent five-foot form that rises from his waist, then disattaches itself from its previous link, and lets the body of my Ranma fall once more onto the gravel. It's Ranma-chan. The dormant spirit trapped inside of him is finally awake, his last, involuntary sacrifice arousing her from cursed slumber. Jubilant, her image focuses, and she floats off to meet her loved one. Chia. I cannot take it. That he KILLED my... My Love... (I think it NOW with difficulty; THEN it would have been impossible) is bad enough, but that he should be so rewarded for my misery - THAT'S unforgivable. I charge. From where I'd knelt, I move into a crouch, and build elastic tension in my legs before I spring towards the ghost, pulling out my mallet so that I may drive him in a the ground, a nail to my affliction. No such luck. He stands, embracing the read-headed woman, and when he notices my dash, he merely frowns, then smiles, then laughs, and finally points a finger at me, sending out a miniaturised version of the blow that took out my beloved. When I come to, the twain are gone. Whether they disappeared, or traveled off, or went to heaven or to hell, I'll never know. The only thing I'm sure of is that with their parting, the two ghosts took all our happiness, our joy, our future hopes, and left behind a pair of sombre, empty shells. I hadn't told him. He had lived, and died, and never knew. I took for granted that we'd wed, that one day we'd be able to express... That _I'd_ be able to come out and... What's the use? I knew it then, I know it now. The past is gone. He's left, and I remain, and through the workings of my foolishness, and rage, and hatred, there is now no way that I can join him. "Oh, that the Almighty had not fixed his canon 'gainst self-slaughter!" For once, Hinako's served me well. Why'd I do it? Had I waited, I'd be with him now, not in this dismal park of memory... Instead, impatience, and regret, and anger took a hold of me. My dreams were gone, and someone had to pay. First, Happosai. He was the obvious choice. That two-foot abnormality and his twisted tastes were at the root of all my woe. That day, and night, and for how long? I don't remember... 'Til whenever I myself did end, I walked in living dreams. Nothing seemed real... My sisters, father, friends, would talk to me, and cry, and try to comfort me, and I would listen, nod, and say I understood, when in reality I seldom even knew what they had said. Emotions ran too high within for consciousness to hold more than one thought, and at that time, that thought was clear, and purposeful: Revenge. The chosen night, when all the house had gone to sleep, I put my plan to work. Off went my habitual pajamas (the yellow ones, with birds on them), and on came lingerie I'd never dared put on before... A towel over that - precautionary, just in case Kasumi or my dad should see me - then I stepped into the hall. Where was it? There. I looked around, and quickly found the thing I sought. A 'keepsake' from Shampoo's last rendezvous with Ranma... I'd let her know her place. All was prepared. The pervert's room was just a little waise away. I went up to the door, and knocked. He was surprised. Who wouldn't be? For years, I'd pummeled any male who'd tried to date me, let alone lay hand upon my skin. He gawked, and paused, and gulped, and stared as the towel fell to the floor. Trembling, he looked at me with questioning eyes. I beckoned. A flash of movement, and the ancient ball of flesh jumped up and latched itself onto my bosom, burrowing its disgusting, wilted head between my breasts. I was repulsed, but thankful for the feeling. It made it that much easier. My right hand reached into the panty's elastic lining, and took the shard of broken glass which I had placed there. Just a quick, one-second slice across the throat, and the late Master of the Anything- Goes School of Martial arts dropped to the floor. "That one's for Ranma," I told the corpse. That's when the shield began to break. Until now, ignorance had been my strength, and psychic disorientation my most trusted guide. The harsh reality of what I'd done, of what I had BECOME now sliced through my psychological defenses, and shattered my emotional armour. The pool of blood on the floor, the saliva on my chest... THOSE formed my 'pool of sorrow', the catalysts for the metamorphosis to follow... Their very REALNESS broke to me the facts that I'd delayed assimilation of. What happened next is all confused... Heaven above has shown SOME kindness, and has hazed that period in my mind... All I remember is a lot of running, panicking, and a pounding heart. The muscle's beating audibly against my sternum several times a second, as with trembling hands I... I... No use. The next scene that I see is several hours later, at the Bridge. The moon has set, the sun is not yet up, and by the starlight I can see the placid waters, little wave-crests idly moving across the surface of the river. I smooth my dress. In some unconscious, automatic fit, I chose this as my death-gown: pale pastels, yellow and sky-blue - a suit which often Ranma'd seen me in. It fit. My brow was firm. I blanked my mind, except for thoughts of HIM, of ME, of life and loss, of happiness forgone... And finally... I jumped. The waters took me in their frigid grip... So often had this very liquid changed my fiance into the form that killed him! Now, it would change ME. I let the fluid penetrate my throat and nostrils, fill my lungs and stomach, weighting me down with added mass until I sank onto the bottom's silt, and onwards, to wherever Ranma was. I hoped. Poetic justice, that the trigger for his curse would prove my own undoing, I had thought, but I had never counted on the consequences of the act. So had the murders shaken me, that I had lost all faith in spirit, heavens, deities, and did not take into account the repercussions on my soul of self-extermination. No sooner had my eyes gone black and my heart still, than I woke up anew and saw with ghostly clarity. As I see now. I'm cursed, but no Jusenkyo for me. I'm doomed to stay, and watch what's happened - all the grief and pain I've caused, and all the happiness and joy I've forfeited, forever knowing that I'll never join my dear beloved... "Ranma..." I whisper, and slowly trace my fingers over his carved name on the marble monument. It IS the anniversary of his death, and I have kept it without fail for over ninety years, despite the still-fresh pain. "You knew him?" A voice from behind me. I thought I was alone here... Who? I turn around. It is a woman - young (though that doesn't mean a thing, as far as spirits go), with straight, blonde, shoulder- length hair and large green eyes. Her dress is rugged, and she looks at me with a sympathetic smile. I have not seen this ghost before. "Who were you?" I ask her. She smiles. "Childra Jansen, at your service," is her reply, and she extends a fair-skinned hand. I look at it, and then at her. "Go on," she says, "but slowly... You don't want to pass right through it." I nod, and carefully, gradually, place my fingers atop hers. They're warm. I can feel a pulse, and the coursing of her living blood... She is ALIVE! But how... I look up quizzically. She smiles again. "I AM alive," she says, "but I can see ghosts." "Why do you come to me?" "I've studied you, and your period, and I'd like to know more from the source." "What?" "I'm a historian. I enjoy my major, and I like to get my information first-hand." A pause. "If you'll let me, I'd also like to be your friend. Akane." A friend? I haven't had one in almost a hundred years... I smile, and nod. This could prove interesting... "If you'll talk, I'll listen. I promise," she says, and sits down on the marble bench beside me. I begin to cry. How much have I lost, and for what little gain? How is it that a single friendly face can stir me to such heights? There was once a time when I would fight off suitors, and could afford the luxury of scorning even he for whom I TRULY held affection. Now, however, things have changed. And much. No longer does Revenge drive all my actions, and my thoughts. Another feeling takes its place. Zannen. ====================================================================== -Childra Jansen *Zannen='Regret'