Brother
by George Masologites
http://www.serve.com/guilds/ranma/
guilds@mail.serve.com [Hunter Kid]
[hkp] 08/03/1997  [I am] All[ways] Rights [never] Reserved
Introduction

    Here's book two of the 'Ryoga ½' saga.  'Brother' deals with an
entirely new set of characters, for a variety of reasons, of which the most
prominent is that I need a 'time gap' in the original storylines.  Time for
the various characters to get closer to their destinations, or get further
along in their training, etc.  It just wouldn't do to say, 'and then three
months later...'
    So instead I'm switching the spotlight over to some new characters.
Most of them are my creations, but one of the main characters is from the
original Ranma 1/2 series.  Well, she's not from Ranma 1/2 as she is
presented here, but rather, her name was created by Rumiko Takahashi and
used by one of the characters to impersonate this new character.  And the
pseudo-character that Takahashi created most notably -does not- have the
same past as my character does, and has not gone through the same trials.
    That being said, 'Ranma 1/2' is copyright Rumiko Takahashi, Viz,
Shogakukan, Kitty, and whoever else works with them.  On with the story!


Prologue
Remembrances

    Ignorance is bliss.
    Such as I have heard the term used many times before, so will I use it
again.  And I believe it, too; to the very bottom of my heart, I cannot
help but think of how wonderful it would be to be ignorant.  Ignorant of
what was happening around me.  Ignorant of what I have become.  And
ignorant of my past.
    The memories come back to me in a rush.  They always do, no matter how
I try to block them out, they always come back.  And with them, the
darkness.  The darkness is not the velvety, cool dark of night, with a
pleasant banner of stars ahead - it is an overwhelming black that consumes
the heart, and destroys emotions.  
    I cannot help but sigh remorsefully at this.  The darkness has taken
all my compassion and soft feelings along with it, but I suppose that such
would be expected, with a life that one such as I have led.  But the
darkness is never merciful.  It is many things, but never merciful.  If it
were, it would allow me to forget my past, and face the future with a new
vigor.
    And yet, it never lets go.  My past.  How many times have I broken down
and wept over my past, I cannot say.  Many, to be sure.  The weeping came
less and less with each passing day, though, and I was beginning to think I
had finally managed to forget my past, and what had brought me here.  What
has made me like I am.
    Made me like I am.
    And then the tears start to form again, and I push them away with my
powerful will, gratefully accepting the darkness rather than the tears.  It
never used to be this way.  That thought merely sparks more emotion from
inside my torn soul, and the tears threaten to come again.  And, as I have
done for what seems eternity, and as I know I always will, I let the
darkness consume me, killing off my emotions, sucking the tears dry.  It is
a high price to pay, I know, but I refuse to give into the tears once more.
 I will be strong, as I was meant to be, as I am.  
    Yes, I am strong.  I must be.  Like...my brother.  What would he say if
he could see me now?  The thought brings a bitter smile to my face, the
only kind of smile that my face could ever hold.  The darkness has consumed
all else, leaving me with empty emotions.  And bitterness.
    My older brother had always been stronger than me.  He was only a year
older than me, and we got along as well as a four and five year old sibling
couple could get along, I suppose.  I do not know how old my brother is
now, for I do not know how old I am.  I don't even know what I look like -
I rarely venture into civilized areas; I have no reason to want to do so.
If I did, I am perfectly aware of the reaction I would get from the
villagers in these areas, and I do not care to think about them.
    The pain returns.
    My appearance.  Does it really matter that much to me?  No, I suppose
it doesn't; not if I had been the way I used to be.  But now, I cannot bear
to look at myself, to see what I have become.  The mere thought of it
frightens me, as it always has, as it always will.  As it always must.  The
day that it no longer frightens me is the day I have killed off my past,
and cut all ties with my former self.
    Such will never happen, of course.  As much as I would like to forget
how I used to be, I cannot allow myself to drop my past.  Oh, believe me, I
would love to, and, if given a conscious choice, would do it in a moment.
Then, I could finally come to terms with myself, with...what I am.  It is
hard to admit now, even after all the years have passed, what I am now
like.  I've undoubtedly changed, inward and outwardly, though I'd never
admit it to anyone.  I like to think that the damage has merely been
superficial - that the outward appearance does not affect the soul that
resides within, though I know now how foolish such thoughts are.  The
darkness reminds me of what I am, and what I have lost.  
    I hate the darkness.  I wish it would leave me in peace, but it won't.
I will not let it.  Part of me wants to send it off, and I know I could.
But I won't.  I cannot.  I refuse to let the part of me that accepts what I
have become win, so I fight it.  Every moment I'm alive, I fight it.  It
probably will claim me in the end, but I will not be left without my past
without a fight.  
    The other part of me longs for days long past, of what I was before.
What I wish I was.  Of what I could have been.  Every time my thoughts go
in that direction, I cut them off.  Such thoughts lead to the ultimate act
of cowardice, the ultimate refusal to accept any responsibility.  
    And I -will- prove myself.
    How, I do not know.  Why I am doing this, I do not know.  I don't even
know to what end I'm working for, but I won't allow the darkness and tears
to overwhelm me to the point of death.  I will be stronger than that; I
must be.  I have to be.
    So I suffer on.  I can't help myself, it always comes back to this.
Suffering.  Why was I the one singled out to suffer as I do?  Fate,
perhaps.  Destiny.  And where destiny leads, I follow.  Follow with a chain
around my neck, maybe, but I will do as fate has laid out for me.  
    What I could have been.  I sigh again as the thought returns to me once
more, and I angrily force it out of my mind, letting the darkness seethe
over my emotions.  I will not show weakness.  Not now, not ever.  And yet,
I could have...could have been so different, so much stronger than I am
now.  I was dissatisfied, then, and now I realize the folly of my
dissatisfaction and where my wayward thoughts have brought me to.  What
kind of life is this I now lead?  What kind of life would I have now if not
for...I shake my head violently, refusing to think such thoughts.  Those
thoughts lead back to the darkness again.
    But I let it consume me anyway.  It is so much more pleasant to be
devoid of emotion, though I cannot forget my past.  I send up a prayer that
I will one day be allowed to forget, but I know it is in vain.  And all the
other prayers that I have prayed are in vain as well.  I brought this upon
myself, with my own foolishness, and am now paying the price.  I will
suffer to the very end, because I am strong enough to endure it.  
    Like my brother...