Well, the first draft of the first part.
	Author notes follow.
	As always, C&C appreciated!

***

             Let the Curtain Fall
			by Michael Noakes


     Lo! thy dread Empire, Chaos, is restored;
     Light dies before thine uncreating word:
     Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall;
     And universal darkness buries all.
     -The Dunciad

Act One, Induction:


     "Bwee!"
     The sudden outraged exclamation and squish beneath my
foot suggested that I'd just stepped on something.  Looking down,
I saw the cutest little black piglet glaring up at me, incensed.  It
even waved a hoof at me in protest.  I couldn't help myself: I
giggled.
     "I'm sorry, 'lil guy.  I didn't see you down there."  I picked
him up and raised him to eye level.  "Are you okay?"
     The pig seemed assuaged by my apology and softened his
look.  His?  I checked to make sure; gender affirmed, I flipped him
back over -- and I would have sworn that the pig was actually
blushing.  "Aw, I'm sorry, guy.  You shy?"
     The pig nodded.
     I looked around, scanning for the animal's owner.  He
obviously wasn't a stray: the yellow-and-black stripped bandana
tied around his neck suggested an owner.  No vet tags, though. 
Maybe he had wandered out of one the nearby houses?  "You from
around here, 'lil buddy?"  Stupid, asking a pig, but he actually
seemed to understand.  He shrugged.
     Maybe he could find his own way home.  I put him back
down on the pavement.  People were passing by on either side,
casting the occasional glance my way but otherwise unperturbed by
the strange gaijin girl talking to a pig.  Well, I'd heard rumors that
Nerima was an odd little district, but so far it actually seemed quite
nice.
     "Alrighty, guy.  Can you find your way home?  Which way
is home?  Lead the way!"  I urged him on with a slight push with
my foot.  He gave me a withering glare, then looked around.  A
tentative step one way.  A few feet the other.  Then he collapsed to
the ground in obvious despair.  This was one lost little piglet!
     "Poor guy.  Don't worry, I'll get you back home.  A little
pig like you couldn't possibly have wandered all _that_ far from
home. . ."  For some reason, the sky darkened ominously at my
pronunciation.  Still, I did feel like I ought to help the little thing:
somewhere, some kid was probably crying and depressed,
mourning the loss of their favorite pet.  I'd lost an animal too, once,
when my sick Lab got loose and wandered off into the bush to die
on its own: it sucks, losing a pet.
     "Can I help you, miss?"  I started at the unexpected voice,
coming from directly behind me.  I spun to face the old man who
had inadvertently snuck up on me.  "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to
startle you."
     "It's . . . it's okay.  I just wasn't paying attention."  I
scooped up the piglet: the little guy had started to wander off. 
"Actually, I'm just trying to find this guy's home."
     The old man cast an inquisitive eye over the pig.  He gave
the appearance of being quite spry for a man of his obvious age,
eyes startling clear and seeming to sparkle with barely suppressed
mirth.  A weathered but strong-looking hand stroked what had to
be _the_ most impressive beard I had ever seen: snowy white but
peppered with streaks of grey, it flowed in a silky cascade down to
his belt.  ZZ Top had nothing on this guy.
     "Ah, yes, P-Chan," he said.
     "P-Chan?"  The pig perked up at the name.
     "His name.  He, ah, belongs," and he gave the oddest little
smile, "to a local young woman.  She lives quite nearby, actually."
     "Really?"
     He nodded.
     Well, my good deed of the day was turning out to be easier
than I expected.  "Hear that, P-Chan?  You're close to home!  I'll
have you back in no time!"  I scratched him under the snout. 
"Well, thank you, sir.  You've helped a lot.  Where does that girl
live?"
     He smiled.  "The Tendo Dojo."


     A few minutes later I stood before the large wooden doors
that allowed egress to the Tendo Residence.  A carefully
calligraphied sign pronounced this as the home of the Anything-
Goes School of Indiscriminate Grappling; a smaller sign suggested
that challengers use the rear entrance.  How quaint.
     Passing through the gate, I was impressed by the size of the
house.  These people were obviously well off.  The yard and path
leading up the house was well kept and maintained, dotted by a few
verdant trees and colorful patches of flowers.  There were a few
indications of wear and tear: the outer wall, at some spots, seemed
to have fallen into disrepair, or revealed signs of recent
construction, but otherwise this was easily one of the nicer Japanese
homes I had had the opportunity to visit.  Approaching the two-
story house, I glanced down at the pig I held cradled to my bosom. 
Cute little thing, he seemed blissfully comfortable in my arms. 
"Hey, P-Chan, this your home?  Looks familiar?"
     P-Chan craned his neck, looked around, and nodded.  A
look of . . . well, I'd almost say vicious anticipation, if I didn't
know better, gleamed in his eyes.
     I knocked on the door.  A few moments later a woman,
probably in her young twenties, answered.  "Hello?"
     "Ah, hi."  My Japanese was more than passable -- actually,
I'm rather pleased with how good it's getting -- but I don't think
I'll ever be very comfortable with it.  I tended to hesitate a bit
talking to native speakers.  Fortunately, they seemed for the most
part to be remarkable patient, ignoring or overlooking my
occasional gaff or awkward grasping for words.  I definitely
understood Japanese better than I spoke it, though.  It suddenly
occurred to me that that nice old man had spoken to me in English. 
"My name is Tiria.  I found your pig out in the street.  It was lost."
     "Oh, you found P-Chan!  How kind of you to bring him
back.  Akane will be so pleased.  He is always getting lost, you see,
and we never know when or how he will find his way back home
again."  She paused to give the pig a little pat on the head.  "But,
please, won't you come in?"
     I was more than pleased to, and gratefully took her up on
her offer.  She introduced herself as Kasumi Tendo while I stripped
off my battered hiking books and slipped into the available pair of
slippers.  Leaving my pack at the door, I followed her into the
house.
     I hesitated, and almost reconsidered my decision, when I
saw the panda bear sitting at the table chewing on a big stalk of
bamboo.  Now, I grew up in a home with lots of pets: always a dog
or two, the proverbial cat that always came back, a flock of birds
(my mom one day decided to raise them), fish, and my brother's
snakes and lizards.  I'd even seen the occasional moose or deer
wander through the backyard.  Saw a brown bear once on the
summer I went tree planting --
at a distance.  But this was up close and personal, and I remember
reading once that panda bears were particularly fierce when
angered.
     Kasumi must have noted my nervousness.  "Oh, don't wear,
he's really quite safe."
     The bear pulled out a sign that read, 'Yes, that's right, I'm a
perfectly harmless panda bear.'
     P-Chan took the opportunity to leap from my stunned
grasp.  He quickly dashed up a flight of stairs.  The gently smiling
Kasumi, meanwhile, gently took my by the hand and led me to the
table.  Unresisting, I sat down, keeping a wary eye on the bear.
     "Would you like to join us for tea?" she asked.
     Still numb, I nodded.  She left for the kitchen.  I continued
to stare at the panda bear sitting mere feet away from me
contentedly snacking on his vegetarian feast.  After a minute,
however, he gave an annoyed 'growlf' and turned on me.  I
jumped, expecting the worst, but all the bear did was whip out
another sign: 'Please, would you mind not staring at me?'
     The laugh I gave had, I'm sure, a slightly manic edge to it. 
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Panda.  I didn't mean to disturb you.  I'm just
not use to seeing panda bears, is all," I said.
     The beat flipped his sign.  It said, 'Oh.'  Then he twirled it,
and it suddenly read, 'So, why are you here?  You're not after my
son, are your, because I assure you. . .'  The sign ran out of room,
but it continued on the other side, 'that he's already more than
taken.'
     I blinked.  "Oh, yes, well, no, I'm not here for your son. 
Ah, actually, I'm here looking for work.  In Japan, that is. 
Teaching English.  And experience, you know?  See the world, live
life, grow, find myself, that kind of thing. . ."  I trailed off for a
moment, and then exclaimed: "Holy shit, I'm talking to a fucking
panda bear!"  In English, though: I tended to revert to my first
language when under stress.
     A moment later Kasumi returned, a taller, more mature
woman wearing a kimono trailing behind her.  "Is everything okay,"
the newcomer asked.  "We heard a yell."
     I blushed.  "Ah, sorry.  I guess I'm not used to having large
animals around."
     The older woman smiled.  "You would be surprised how
quickly you get used to it."  She gave the bear an affectionate
scratch behind the ear, and he gave a low growl of pleasure.  "My
name is Nodoka Saotome."
     "Tiria Hope.  Nice to meet you."


     And so I sat down with these two Japanese women and
their panda bear to drink tea (much to my surprise, the animal also
partook of a cup, carefully clasping the cup between his rather
frightening claws).  They seemed genuinely interested in who I was
and where I came from, as it seemed that they didn't get too many
gaijin visitors.  So I started to give them the basic introduction: I
was from Canada, twenty-five, and, having completed my Master's
degree, was now looking for a teaching job in Japan.  They asked
the usual questions: could I play hockey (no), was Canada really
that cold (freezing, I assured them), and was I a martial arts master
seeking retribution for past wrongs?
     "Ah, what?"
     Just then there was thunderous crash from above.  Neither
woman seemed to notice, nor did they react when someone
screamed, "Ranma Saotome, prepare to DIE!"
     "So, then, how have you enjoyed Japan so far," asked
Kasumi.  "Have you been here long?"
     "A few months, actually.  I had some money saved up, so. .
."
     'Stop picking on Ryoga, Ranma!'
     ". . . I did some wandering first.  Visited the shrines at
Nikkou, climbed Mt. Fuji at night, checked out the Tokyo club
scene. . ."
     'Will you stop dodging!'
     "Ah, and I got to fulfill a dream of mine: I took a month and
a half out and walked Kobou Daishi's 88 Temple circuit on
Shikoku."
     "Oh, really!" interjected Kasumi.  "How fascinating!"
     'Look what you did to my room, you jerk!'
     "Listen, I don't want to be rude, but what the hell's going
on up there?"  The noise from upstairs was getting both louder and
closer, a mixture of yells and screams (both male and female),
bangs, crashes, splashes and thuds.
     "Oh, that's just my son, his friend, and his fiancee playing,"
answered Ms. Saotome.  "Actually, it's the first time they've been
this loud in quite a while, wouldn't you say, Kasumi?"
     "Oh me yes, it _has_ been a while.  Don't worry, it really
isn't anything to worry about."  She raised the kettle.  "More tea?"
     Just then P-Chan came bolting down the stairs, a half-naked
redheaded girl in hot pursuit.
     "Get back here, you little pervert!" yelled the girl.  The pig
jumped over the table; as the girl did the same she snagged the tea
kettle.  Neither Kasumi nor Ms. Saotome found this odd.
     "So what exactly _is_ an igloo, and why would you want to
live in one," asked Kasumi.
     The redheaded girl hurled the kettle at the pig.  With a
resounding clang it nailed the poor pig, knocking him outside and
doubtlessly scalding him with hot tea.  Despite my confusion I
found myself getting angry: beating up on animals was just plain
wrong!  Before I could stand, however, another person joined the
fray: I caught a quick glance of a girl in her late teens sporting a
large mallet.
     "Akane, we have a guest," said Kasumi.
     Akane paused a moment and waved.  "Hi!" she said
cheerfully, then her expression darkened into a frightening scowl
and she leapt outside.  Various screams, yells, and taunts, and then
a moment later the redhead girl came running back in.  She didn't
get far, however, as a large, half-naked young man (I blushed
slightly, noticing just how well sculpted his body was) sporting a
strangely familiar yellow-and-black bandana, yanked her back by
the pigtail.  As the girl stumbled he slammed his fist into the small
of her back, sending the girl sprawling.
     Animal abuse was bad enough.  Beating up on a young girl
was worse.  I didn't know what was up with this insane household,
why the two women (and panda bear) sitting here seemed inured to
the violence, but I wasn't just going to sit by and let this thug beat
the crap out of this poor girl.  I had no idea what I could do, really,
but I stood up, angry, took a step towards the boy. . .
     He must've taken a savage kick in the midriff from the girl
on the ground; I guess she wasn't that helpless after all.  But
suddenly, instead of moving away from me, he was flying towards
me.  Very fast.  I was too shocked to move.  He clipped me on the
shoulder as he tumbled by; the impact sent me spinning, tripping,
into the wall.  I bounced off heavily, pain exploding in my head,
staggering with spots flashing before my eyes.
     Then a cry: 'oh no!'  Brief glimpse of large wooden mallet
filling my vision.
     Everything went black.


     Continued in:
     Let The Curtain Fall
     Act One, Scene One

     In which Ranma contemplates his future and visits
university; and Happosai causes his usual trouble; a strange book is
discovered, promising possible cures at hidden costs; and the
players take their positions.

***

Author Notes (brief):

	Right.  So, what is this?
	Well, it's not an SI fic, nor will it focus on this new character,
nor will it remain in first person perspective.  I'm not overly fond of
those fic (a few remarkable exceptions aside), so I'm certainly not going
to write one myself.
	I'm aiming at an epic-style fic, here, in the style of Hearts of
Ice or Chasing the Wind.  I'm also looking to get away from some of the
other stuff I've been writing.  Choices gets tiring after awhile: angst is
fine, but I wanna write some action, dammit!
	Anyway, this looks to be a long one: four acts, four scenes per
act, an interlude, and an epilogue.  Well, we'll see.  Enjoy!
	(And, no, I haven't abandoned Choices, I'll be working on it
simultaneous, which should serve to slow my already prodigeously slow pace
even more...)

	Later!
	-Mike Noakes
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     I no longer feel as you do: this cloud * E-mail at:
 which I see under me, this blackness and   * s669330@aix2.uottawa.ca
 heaviness I laugh at -- precisely this is  * Homepage/Fanfiction:
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	-Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra I, _Of Reading and Writing_
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