Hah! More free time. Yay! Part C now, then the revisions of all three parts
of chapter 2 before I post chapter 3 A, later in the week.

A Plea: So far in this story, I have attemepted to stay within shouting
distance
of canon, except where I haven't. In this chapter I advance a theory that will
probably strike many people as Extremely Borderline. I happen to think that it
is, in fact, in the same Not-Quite-Canonable area as speculation about
where the
Tendo's money comes from, but thats Just Me.

   Nonetheless, I would truly hate to rouse Tybalt-dono's wrath by
contributing
to a flame-fest, or character debate. Therefor, I'm not going to. Explanations
of my thoughts on this subject, and it should leap out at you when you come
to it,
by private e-mail only.

   So it would make me happy if Oyukasama would, for the purposes of this
fic, assume
that Ranma knows what he's talking about, and not  post arguments where the
FFML
as a whole has to trip over them. Yes? Thank ya, thankya very much.

[Ladies and Gentlemen, the Author has Left the building.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Disclaimer: The playground is by Rumiko Takahashi, I'm only swinging on
the monkey bars.  Remember to leave the grounds cleaner than you found 
them and please don't feed the Troll.

*Summer Lightning* and *After All* are copyright by Garnet Rogers, I'm only 
mangling them; if you haven't encountered him before go out and buy his CDs, 
So he'll put out a new album already.

*This is a sound.*
'This is a thought.'
_This is emphasis._
{This is a sign.}
<This is Chinese.>

----------------------------------------------------------------------
Ranma & Akane: A Love Story. 
Chapter 2 :The Second Day
Part C: Crumbling Stone, Duets for Wind and Flame.

	I was riding west, through Ontake Mountains.
	The hills were heavy with new-fallen snow,
	And the sun-bright hills were dappled like a pony,
	I was riding hard, I had miles to go.

	And a magpie flew, 'cross the mountain highway,
	It flashed and tumbled, through the golden trees,
	And I thought of you, and my heart was lifted,
	And floated with that magpie, on the morning breeze.

   Predictably, Akane had made the best match to Ranma's voice. Which
is not to say that the other members of class 2-F hadn't tried. Sayuri
and her friend Yuka has put up a brave struggle, and, of course, all
the boys in 2-F had desperately attempted to hold enough of a baritone
to match Ranma's contralto. But, in the end, Akane's clear soprano had
been the only one with enough endurance, or range.

   It was the sensei of music's private despair that neither girl was
at all interested in representing Furinkan on the Musical Performance
team. He had even attempted to lure Ranma with reports of "Musical
Martial Arts" only to run headlong into a will of tempered granite.

   "I have spent too much of my life, and far too much pain, on my Art
to betray it now", Ranma had said, firmly, "it is as perfect as I can
make it and I will not abandon it simply so some-one trained in another,
lesser, style can have a 'fair fight'. If some-one wishes to challenge 
me to Aikido, or Ninjutsu, or Martial Arts Croquet or Kung-Fu Break-
Dancing or any other such silliness they may do so. And they may use
their Art, and I will use mine, and we will see whose is superior." Her
grin as she delivered this pronouncement had been truly alarming, and
the matter had been dropped.

   This had led to Ranma and Akane practicing duets on the same song
that Ranma had began with yesterday.

		We are brief Summer lightning,
		We are swift as swallows' flight.
		We are sparks that spiral upwards,
		In the darkness of the night.
		We are frost upon the window,
		We won't pass this way again,
		In the end only love remains.

   It seemed that they should cooperate on the chorus, which led, 
inevitably, to the question of how to divide up the verses. So Ranma
had taken the first set alone.

	Tonight the Harvest Moon hangs over the valley,
	I see the hills shine, in its' silvery light.
	It's the same old Moon, that shines down upon me,
	And'll light my way, till I'm by your side.

	For where I go, You go with me, 
	Though the miles keep us apart.
	Your kisses on my lips, and your arms around me,
	And your gentle hands, always on my heart.

   Akane's soprano had rung out both more softly and more sweetly than
Ranma on the second set, leading to the harmonies of their combined
voices and Ranma's guitar on the second chorus.

		We are brief Summer lightning,
		We are swift as swallows' flight.
		We are sparks that spiral upwards,
		In the darkness of the night.
		We are frost upon the window,
		We won't pass this way again,
		In the end only love remains.

   And then it was time for the final verses and the problem of how to
apportion them was solved, mutually, by alternating lines, first the
contralto, smoke and ozone on the autumn wind and the presence -far off
and brooding- of the storm; then the soprano, crackling now with driving
energy, bright and pure, (yet, somehow, not at all sterile) filled with
the changeable changelessness of a bonfire's roar.

	Well who scattered these diamonds, through the vault of Heaven?

   The wind questioned, and the flame responded.

	Who drew the curve of the magpie's wing?

   The bonfire summoned, and the breeze answered.

	Who shaped your face, and what made you love me?

   The rising wind commanded, and the snapping flame obeyed.

	Where is the heart of every living thing?

   The blaze flamed higher, and the wind grew with it, and fed it, and 
drove it on before.

	Well, I guess I don't know, and I don't care either.

   Wind roused flame to life ...

	I know you love me, how could it not be?

   Flame drew wind's reply ...

	And I am your's, now and forever,

   Feeding now from each other's power, one to the other, changing and
exchanging the lead, to join again in harmony at the last ...

	'Till my lips fall silent, and my eyes can't see.

   And the wind whipped the blaze into a wildfire...

		We are brief Summer lightning,
		We are swift as swallows' flight.
		We are sparks that spiral upwards,
		In the darkness of the night.

   And the fire blew the wind into a storm.

		We are frost upon the window,
		We won't pass this way again,
		In the end Dear, only love remains.

   And in the silence that filled the classroom when the song had fin-
ished, Ranma's slightly husky voice broke the stillness gently, like a
sudden breeze breaks the hush of dawn, "By the way Akane, shouldn't you
have been playing your instrument too?"

   "Um, well ...", Akane shook herself and replied, "No. You see I play
the saxophone, and if I play I can't sing ...."

   "You play _sax_??" Ranma blink-blinked, then mumbled, "Jazz. Now 
where am I gonna get sheet music for Jazz. Mmm, maybe I could ....
Well, that's nice, but it does leave us with one problem."

   "Er, what's that, Ranma?", Akane asked warily.

   "Where in hell are we going to find a drummer?"

   The bell took the opportunity to ring at that point, ending the 
class. And also cutting off at least three boys' attempts to volunteer
for the offered position (not that any of them could actually _play_
the drums, but that wasn't the point), which was, probably, extremely
fortunate for all involved.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

   Nabiki had excused herself for an unspecified appointment. Sayuri 
and Yuka had departed, giggling, to prepare the former for a date she 
had contrived with "this dreamy guy" from class 3-C. Various other 
people had departed to their various ways. Ranma and Akane were, tech-
nically speaking, not _alone_, just _by themselves_. They had therefore, 
by mutual, unspoken, consent, departed from the straight path towards 
Akane's home and were, instead, strolling idly through one of Nerima's 
parks, enjoying the warmth of the day and the freshness of the spring 
breeze. This being one of the Accepted Canonical Locations for Serious 
Discussions, one of the aforesaid Serious Discussions was underway.

   "Akane-san", Ranma gritted, "I _said_ that you should ..."

   "I did consider my decision, Ranma-chan", Akane replied calmly. "I 
decided that I wanted to go ahead."

   "_Damn it, girl_", Ranma roared, "you've got _no_ idea what you're 
getting into!"

   "Ranma-chan", Akane reached out and put a gentle hand on the faint 
scar that traced the side of Ranma's face, next to her mouth, "when you 
took the blow that dealt that scar, did it hurt? Did it hurt 
afterwards?"

   "_OF COURSE IT BLOODY HURT!!!_"

   "And, the others?", Akane's voice was gentle, "Did they hurt, too?"

   "What the hell kind of question is that?! Of _course_ they did!"

   "And after you healed, did they stop hurting?"

   "What are you ... _No!_ They never stop hurting, not completely! I 
_ache_ in the winter, sometimes!"

   "And you said that your honor didn't allow you to let your friend 
suffer likewise unless she _had_ to?"

   "_THAT'S WHY I'M TRYING TO TALK YOU OUT OF IT IN THE FIRST PLACE, 
YOU, YOU ... BAKA!!!_"

   Akane stepped forward to stand just in front of Ranma, face-to-face 
and looking closely into her cerulean eyes. "So what makes you think 
that _my_ honor will allow me to let _my_ friend suffer all that pain
... alone?"

   And Bushiko Ranma, whose name had once been otherwise, looked into 
the great, dark, eyes of her opponent in this contest of wills, of her 
would-be student, of her friend; and found there no challenge, but also 
no surrender. And martialed a hundred arguments, and prepared a thous-
and objections, and called to mind every precept of logic she had ever 
heard. And saw, in the theater of memory, -treacherous memory, that 
shows what it will, and not what _you_ will- another face. And the 
expression in the eyes before her mirrored once, long before, in a 
mirror. And bowed her head to another's honor, and bent her neck to 
another's necessity; and buried her face in another's shoulder, and 
felt another's arms embrace her; and did not cry, nor did she weep, so 
great was her control, whatever she might wish. Only, instead, she
spoke, very low and muffled in another's breast, "Alright. Alright, 
I'll teach you. I'll teach you all I can."

   And Tendo Akane also did not cry, nor weep, for the moment was, for 
her, too great for tears. She only said "And I promise to learn, all 
that I can. And never to regret what you may teach, whatever it may 
cost me."

   And they stood like that for a time, which may have been long or 
short, and then released each other's embrace. And walked onward, more 
quickly now, to the hall that one called home.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

   On the mat Ranma bowed to the Dojo's spirit and then turned to face
Akane and crossed her arms. "Okay. We now face the First Problem of 
teaching you how to lead a life dedicated to the fine art of slaughter.
Briefly, the problem is one of attitude. A warrior simply has a diff-
erent basic attitude to a person who has only trained, and the necessary
attitude is one you don't possess."

   Akane assumed an attitude of respectful attention.

   "And the number of ways I know of to induce the necessary attitude
reduce to three", said Ranma, beginning to pace back and forth. "First,
we could send you to a remote temple for 2 or 3 decades so you could
run up and down snowy mountains, and drink bark tea, and meditate on 
your navel. _But_, we can probably say that this approach will take a 
_trifle_ more time than we actually have." Ranma reached the end of her 
pacing arc, and raised one finger in the air as she turned around.

   Akane turned her head to face her, still attentive.

   "Second, we could send you off to somewhere where life is cheap, 
gunpowder is in the air, and death lurks behind every corner, in the
hope that, if you survived, you would pick something up by osmosis.
_But_, that approach is probably a little too, umm ... _uncertain_."

   Ranma reached the other end of her arc and held up a second finger.
Akane made a face, and nodded vigorously.

   "So what we are left with is choice three", Ranma said with an evil 
grin. "This is the approach where I beat the living snot out of you on
a regular basis until you learn something."

   Akane observed the grin, and gulped.

   "And the first part of that process", Ranma said, turning to face
Akane, and crossing her arms again, "is to see precisely what you are
capable of _now_. _Assume_."

   Akane brushed away a sudden bead of sweat, and assumed the Tendo
Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu Crane In Waiting stance.

   Ranma looked her up and down for about 3 seconds while she waited 
uneasily, and then she moved. It seemed, to Akane, like being in the
center of a tornado. Great winds buffeted her from all sides, and a 
hail of punishing blows descended from every angle that she didn't 
block. A slide kick sent her sprawling to the ground, followed by three
fast and bruising punches to the small of her back, but she fought
grimly upright and cleared some space with a sweeping hip kick that 
only cost her two snap-kicks to the knee and a crane strike to the 
thigh. Setting her back against the Dojo's outside wall, and reminding
herself not to move on that leg, she waited as steadily as she could 
for Ranma's next attack.

   It came within seconds, a v-step across Akane's range that turned
into a feint to her upper right guard. A 'feint' that succeeded in
bashing her out of position for another series of feints, each con-
tacting her defenses, each bruising her arms or legs, each moving her
farther and farther off center, until her defense was completely down.
In the extremity of her extension, when she could respond to no more
threats, she watched, with despair, a rising power kick that she knew
she could never stop. Awaiting the end, she noted, as if from her 
peripheral vision, a slight movement _behind_ her, and then the world
went black.

   She awakened upside down against a wall. Only moments could have 
passed, but from the condition of her abused muscles it might have been
hours. She was gently turned over and set upright, squatting against
the wall, to discover Ranma kneeling in front of her, wiping her face
clean of sweat and blood with a handkerchief. And grinning merrily, as 
though she had just been told the best joke in all the world.

   Akane frowned weakly, "I know I'm not in your class, Ranma-sensei, 
but I ..."

   Ranma's grin transmuted into a gentle smile and she shook her head.
"Not in my class? Heh. Not in my class. *snrk*. Akane-chan", she asked, 
more gently yet, "do you know why you're lying here on the ground, 
feeling run over?"

   "Well I missed that last power kick ...", Akane responded uncert-
ainly.

   "The power kick was a feint, Akane-chan", Ranma returned to her grin,
"the real attack was the thrust-kick from behind. The thrust-kick that
would have stopped before it actually hit you, like the death-blow I
did to Kuno-san. The thrust-kick that you couldn't even have _seen_,
much less blocked. That thrust-kick."

   "Oh", Akane said weakly, "So, what happened?"

   "You blocked it, of course", Ranma's grin was even larger now.

   "I thought you said I _couldn't_ have blocked it", Akane complained.

   "You couldn't have", Ranma replied cheerfully, "But you did, anyway.
And there's only one way that could have happened."

   Akane shook her head, as if to dislodge whatever particle of inspir-
ation was hiding in it that was keeping the conversation from making 
sense. "Wh .. What's that Ranma-sensei?", she quavered.

   Ranma's grin seemed to split her face, "You must have gone zanshin,
Akane-chan. It's the only way you could even have come close. With
all your defenses down. Completely overextended. And without even
_meaning_ to."

   "Z .. Zanshin, Ranma-sensei? You mean like, like Mushashi-sama?
The _Book of Five Rings_?"

   "Exactly! And, of course, you know what _that_ means?"

   "N-no, I mean, I don't ... what?", Akane shook her head frantically,
desperate to find something that made sense. Zanshin? Her?

   "It means you made me completely waste all that angst I went through,
that's what. You're as surely marked with the Murderer's sign as am I."
Ranma traced a circle on her forehead with a gentle hand. "It means
you will probably end up being better than _me_. It means that I've
found my Perfect Student, the one I can learn from as much as I teach.
And what, what, _what_ in the name of all that is holy is a nice girl
like you doing in a condition like that?"

   Akane's battered mind seized on the only thing she recognized in all
that barrage of words, and came up with the only appropriate response,
smiling weakly, "Umm, Just lucky, I guess?"

   Ranma's silver laughter filled the empty hall. And then she abandoned
any attempt to urge Akane to rise, and cradled her in her arms, rising
smoothly to her feet as Akane feebly waved her hands in protest.

   "And now we'll get you in the furo. You need to soak."

   "But, but, that is, I don't, you shouldn't ..."

   "Hush, Akane. The Sensei Is Always Right."

   "But you, I, it's not ..."

   "Hush, Akane-chan."

   "Don't need, why, can walk, ..."

   "_Hush!_"

   "Er, umm, that is... Yes, Ranma-chan", meekly.

   "And then I'll give you a massage, to keep you from being too stiff
tomorrow."

   "Erkk...", very meekly indeed.

   "And after that we'll get Kasumi-san to make you a _big_ meal, so
you can keep your strength up."

   "Oh, no", a very, very small voice.

   "And after _that_, we can do some _real_ training!"

   "Help", almost inaudible, in fact. Not that it helped.

   And Ranma's cheerful laughter blew them into the furo. And then they
did exactly what Ranma had said they would.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

   And much later, long after dark, as Ranma wound her way alone to her
rented flat, and Akane slept the sleep of the Just -or, anyway, the 
Sleep of the Very, Very Tired-, Ranma looked up into the light-glare
that blotted out the stars above Tokyo, and snorted.

   "'Keep your head down, and hope you find a friend', I said. Hah!
Oh, well I can't complain about the quality of her art at least. Even
if it is bloody inconvenient! And it's loads better than that last
school. Food fights, bleah. Oh, yes, it could _definitely_ be worse."

   And then she began, without raising her voice, to sing. And continued
singing all the way down the road.

	The brooding ghosts of this dark night
	Are gone from wood and Town.
	My spirit revives in the morning breeze,
	Though it died when Sun went down.
	The river is wide, the stream is strong,
	And the grass is green and tall.
	And I feign would think that this world of ours,
	Is a good world, after all.

	The light of passion in dreamy eyes,
	The page of truth well read,
	The glorious thrill in a heart grown cold,
	And a spirit once thought dead.
	The song that goes to a comrade's heart,
	The tear of pride let fall,
	My heart grows brave, and the world, to me,
	Is a good world, after all.

	Let our enemies go by their own dull paths,
	Let theirs be doubt and shame.
	The man who's bitter against the world
	Has only himself to blame.
	Let the darkest side of the past stay dark,
	And only good recall, 
	For I must believe that the world, to me,
	Is a good world, after all.

	It may be that I saw to plain,
	It may be I was blind,
	But I'll keep my face to the morning light,
	Though the Devil stand behind.
	Though the Devil may stand behind my back
	Shall I see his shadow fall?
	And I'll read, in the light of the Morning Star
	Of a good world, after all.

   And then, very softly:

	Rest, for your arms are weary, Love,
	You drove the worst away.
	And the ghost of the one that I might have been
	Is gone from my heart today.
	We'll live our life for the good it brings,
	'Till our twilight shadows fall.
	Oh, my heart grows brave, and the world, to me,
	Is a good world, after all.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Next: More silliness. Ranma tells a story. Foreshadowings are 
foreshadowed. And ghosts begin to walk.

Ranma and Akane: A Love Story
Chapter 3: The Third Day
Part A: Point of Contact: The Hunter and the Bear.

Coming soon, to a FFML near you.

--
"Rabbi, I have lost Faith."
"And how did this happen?"
"I studied Logic, and found you can prove anything if you're clever enough."
"Indeed? Can you prove you have no nose?"
"Certainly. To begin with---" <POW!>
"Then, my friend, what hurts?"		-- Old Yiddish Parable
 -Eric Hallstrom, the Tired.
Eric Hallstrom  hallcon@mindspring.com