Stars Against the Sun

A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic by Alan Harnum - harnums@hotmail.com

All Ranma characters are the property of Rumiko Takahashi, first
published by Shokakugan in Japan and brought over to North
America by Viz Communications.

**********

     It was a late night in that dying moment between autumn's 
end and winter's beginning that he made his decision to leave.  
It was easy enough for him; he didn't have much he needed beyond
what he could carry upon his back.  A quick job of packing
silently and he was out the window and down onto the grass,
still damp from the evening rain.
     
     When he turned to go, into the surrounding night, trying not 
to let his eye catch upon her shadowed window, he found she was 
behind him.

     "You're going, then?" she said, as if she'd always known.
     
     Mutely, he nodded.
     
     "Why?"
     
     He said nothing, for a long time, searching in his own soul.
     
     "Because we're too different," he said finally, as overhead
the cat's-claw moon scraped at the stars.  

     She nodded, and bowed her head.  Her dark eyes closed, and
her face was made pale by the silver of the moonlight.  "I know."

     "I guess we always did," he said, and laughed bitterly.  "We
just never wanted to... we..."

     "I know," she said again, and he realized that she did.
     
     "I'm sorry," he said.
     
     "I am too," she replied.
     
     The night wind whispered through the grass around them,
lightly teased at her hair and blew strands of it across her
eyes.

     He saw that she was crying, tears silver, like the
moonlight.  

     He realized that he was crying as well.
     
     "It couldn't work," he said at last, there beneath the
moonlight.  "It never could.  I'm a wanderer.  It's in my 
blood.  You, you were meant to stay here.  You have so much 
here; family, friends, tradition.  I, I have nothing.  I have 
nothing to give you."

     "But..."
     
     "I can't stay here," he said, not letting her finish.  "Not
with everything else.  The past always catches up to you."

     "It's strange, isn't it?" she whispered.  "When you first
came, I was sure I hated you.  You were so unlike anyone I had
ever known.  You were loud, and brash, and..."

     She stepped forward, placed a small hand against his cheek.
"And I fell in love with you.  I don't know how.  Only that I
did."

     He put his hand over hers, brought it to his lips, gently
kissed the cool smoothness of her skin.  "And I with you.  And I
never thought I could love anyone, much less someone like you."

     "But you still want to leave, then?" she said.  "Even though
I love you, and you love me?  Isn't that enough?"

     "No," he said.  "No, it isn't."
     
     And it wasn't, he realized.  Love wasn't enough, not for the
two of them.  What he'd said was true; they were too different.
The distances between who he was and who she was were 
immeasurable.  

     Love would turn, after a while, to bitterness, whichever way
they went.  If she went with him, she would always long for what
she'd left behind; if he stayed with her, he knew that the open
road and the world beyond would always call to him.

     Better to let it stay like this, this parting, and the love
in it, that was true for now at least, would always be true.  

     But oh, oh how it hurt.
     
     "No," she said eventually.  "Sometimes, I guess it simply
isn't."

     He still held her hand in his.  He didn't want to let it go.
He didn't want to let her go.

     But he had to.
     
     "You were just going to leave without saying anything,
then?" she asked.

     "I thought it would be easier that way," he said.  Far away,
far, far away, a night bird called into the air, aching and lost
and alone.

     "How could it ever have been easy?" she asked, half-closing
her eyes.  Tears sparkled on her cheeks like jewels.  Like stars.
The stars in the sky, and the moon, and the two of them; that was
all there was.

     "I didn't say easy," he said gently.  "Only easier.  Only
easier."

     "Do you think you might come back?" she asked, hopefully,
tentatively.

     He was quiet for a long time, holding her hand against his
cheek.  They were both crying.  They both couldn't seem to stop.

     "Maybe," he said finally.  "One day.  If the wandering is
driven from my soul, and the longing from my heart."

     It seemed the thing to say, but he knew it was a lie.
     
     "Oh my love," she whispered, and she brought her other hand
up to his face and drew her lips to his, a final kiss, a final
goodbye.

     When at last they broke apart, he realized that he had to go
now, had to turn away from the sight of her in the moonlight, or
he would never be able to go at all.

     "I won't forget you," he said, and he knew he wouldn't.  No
matter what came between, he wouldn't forget her.  

     "And I you," she said.  

     He could say nothing more, and neither could she.  If either
had spoken again, then he could not have left.  

     They stood there, looking at each other, for a long time.
     
     At last, he turned and went.
     
     He knew Khu Lon watched him as he went.
     
     He tried not to care.
     
     Behind him, Joketsuzoku village retreated into the night, as 
Tennamida Happosai went off towards the mountains and the ocean.

     When he was nearly a mile away, he turned finally and looked
back.  He could still see the lights of the village from here.
Birdsong drifted to him on the evening breeze.

     He wanted to go back.
     
     But he didn't.  At last, he turned from the light, and went
into the awaiting dark.  He realized he'd stopped crying a long
time ago.

**********

     "Great-grandmother, I going to bed now."
     
     "Yes, child.  Have a good rest.  I'm going to stay up a 
while longer.  Watch the moon and stars a little."

     Shampoo nodded her head and went back down the stairs that
led onto the roof of the Nekohanten.  For as long as she could
remember, her great-grandmother had always stayed up all night on
this date, when the last of the leaves had fallen but the first
of the snow was still to come.  She always meant to ask about it, 
but something about the old woman's mood on these nights always 
prevented her.  

     As she walked into her room, she shrugged.  It was probably
something deep and mystical and wise anyway; not something that 
she could ever possibly understand.

                                THE END

As the mist leaves no scar
On the dark green hill
So my body leaves no scar
On you and never will

Through windows in the dark
The children come, the children go
Like arrows with no target
Like shackles made of snow

True love leaves no traces
If you and I are one
It's lost in our embraces
Like stars against the sun

As a falling leaf may rest
A moment on the air
So your head upon my breast
So my hand upon your hair

And many nights endure
Without a moon or star
So will we endure
When one is gone and far

True love leaves no traces
If you and I are one
It's lost in our embraces
Like stars against the sun

-"True Love Leaves No Traces", Leonard Cohen                                

Author's Notes:

I guess I've always liked Cologne and Happosai.  I know a lot of
people don't; they tend to get badly treated (not that Happosai
doesn't deserve it much of the time) in a lot of fics.  Both 
(particularly Cologne) are often portrayed as far more malicious 
than they actually are in the manga, so I usually try to give
them a better shake than most in my work.

I wonder about them as well, I suppose.  What they were like in 
their youth, before a century changed them into the people they 
are today.  I guess this is just an attempt to answer one aspect 
of that.

Any C&C would be welcomed; this isn't the kind of thing I usually
write.  I've got no idea if I'm doing it correctly.

-Alan Harnum

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