All characters are copyright by someone else and have much more money than
I.

                                THE PROMISE


        Why am I doing this?  What is the purpose for it?  I should know
the answer to that better than anyone else, better than the others
involved.  I do this because of the promise I made, to satisfy honour.
        Heh, me, rambling on about honour, who'd have thought?  Me, the one
who purposfully fights below his ability to keep a promise.  The others,
they don't have to do what I do, but I'm the one stuck with the acting, the
lied emotions, the hidden personality, the veiled thoughts.  Me.
        Why do I keep this up?
        I keep this up because I know that, if I were to break that
promise, I know that I couldn't live with myself, live with the knowledge
that I have failed to uphold my honour.
        Why do I keep this up?
        You would think that I would tire of that question, that I would
eventually stop asking myself that, but no, for those are the thoughts that
occupy my mind every night.  I can hardly close my eyes to sleep before
they start up again, as if they had a mind of their own.  Sometimes I dream
of what might have been, had I not made the promise, had not sworn upon my
family honour that I would fulfill my role, my destiny, the destiny that
lies intertwined with that family.  Families.
        Why do I keep this up?
        Again, even now as I close my eyes, the dreams and thoughts return
to haunt me, haunt my every moment of sleep.  It's amazing that I can even
function on the level needed to keep the illusion up, to keep the lies
straight.  Lies, is that all I'm good for?  Can't someone tell me, anyone?
The only one that I'm even remotely close to is the other, but even they
don't understand me, no matter how much they think they do.  I can only
focus on the next day's script, the next day's lies, as sleep finally
claims me.
        As usual, I awake early.  As usual, I undertake my moments of
peace.  As usual, I sit there and write out the lies to be said, the lies
to be spun, the tales to be told.  I write out every possible lie to what
could be said.  As usual, I sit there and re-read them, to make sure that
they're convincing, that they'll be believed.  As usual, I set out before
all others, before anything that moves during the day.  As usual I get to
the battlefield before the sun rises.  I stand there, looking at the flat
visage of the mirrors.  Glass, so easily shattered, so delicate, and yet,
so beautiful, so very beautiful.  The glass always reminds me of how
delicate the situation is.  One little push here, a little touch there, and
the whole thing comes crashing down on everyone, killing and maiming any
who venture into it's path.  Yes, the situation is very delicate.
        Why do I Keep this up?
        What else can I do?  Anything else would be a deviation from the
agreed path.  Agreed between whom, you might ask?  Between myself, the
others, and the one who holds my family's honour.  I must admit, at times
playing the assigned role was fun, but... was it really worth it?  Again, I
stare at the building in front of me, the glass, a delicate mirror.  And in
that mirror, I see three reflections.
        I see my lies, all converged into one single form; my own
reflection, how pathetic it seems at times; and I see the others, how they
don't know what I do, or more importantly, why.  The others are those whom
I have sworn to assist, albeit not directly.  During my introspection, I
had failed notice the rising of the sun, and now I must quickly duck into
the doors of the building, hiding for the right moment.  Now I must fight,
good enough to make a little challenge, but I must hold back enough to not
give them the fight of their lives.  I must take a dive, just as before,
and just as always.  I know that I could easily defeat them both, but alas,
I cannot show them what they are up against.
        Gripping my weapon, I start out the door with my familiar battle
cry on my lips, so familar that even I don't notice it.  A battle cry, just
one more lie.  Why do I do this?  To uphold honour?  How honourable am I
when I lie, don't fight up to my potential, when I profess to things I have
no real feelings for?  How honourable am I?  The battle cry rings out
across the field, "Ranma Saotome, I, the Blue Thunder of Furinkan High,
challange you to combat for the hand of Akane Tendo!"
end

Cory Holmes
gholmes@rodeo.sd27.bc.ca