Previous reading: Soul of Ice: Point, Soul of Ice: Counterpoint.
Soul of Ice: Thesis is not necessary, having diverged from the
timeline previously.
 
Ranma 1/2 is the creation of Rumiko Takahashi. I hold no rights to
it. This is a totally non-profit work, and I derive no tangible
benefit from doing it, other than perhaps practising my writing
skills. 

I would like to thank: thanks99@bellsouth.net (TH),
ifurita_76@my-dejanews.com (bombadil goh), harnums@hotmail.com
(Alan Harnum), hiryu@tri-isys.com (Jiro Maeda), fido@rma.edu (Fido,
one of the many Davids from FFIRC), c621358@showme.missouri.edu
(Andrew from FFIRC), chengd@ucalgary.ca (Donny Cheng, or DC, from
FFIRC), who all took the time to preread for me (not something I
usually have/do). Not all suggestions were used, but not all were
discarded, either (chapter X, for example, has not seen the light
of day. I just wanted to sneak this in before everyone went away
for the holidays). 
    Since I'm so sure I forgot something really important, I'd like
you (yes, you!) to tell me what you think. Comments, criticisms? at
discretion you wish to employ, of course.

Preface:

    I've talked about purity before, so now I think I'll talk about
limits. Are limits bad? We are told that they are. Break through,
don't limit yourself, fight the power, push yourself, no pain, no
gain: all various ways of rebelling against limits. In some ways we
live in a society which is antithetical to that of the Victorian
era, with the stiff-upper-lip clich� and all that. We have gone to
the exact opposite, and now have to express our feelings loudly and
volubly, in grief or joy, in order to not be labelled heartless
or unfeeling. 
    Why is that? Why can't I grieve in private? Must I rend my
clothes and cry and cover myself in ash? Why does everything have
to be bigger and louder to be better? Are we so shallow that the
surface is all that is real anymore, that there is nothing deeper
than these vulgar displays?
    Limits exist for reasons. Limits are used to define and to
control; they give meaning by saying what is and what is not. So
why do we always want to break limits? An integral part of who and
what we are is who and what we are not. Things are defined by not
only what they include, but what they exclude. Groups cannot exist
without people outside of the groups. Restrictions are made for
reasons; without them we would have total anarchy. Laws are what
keep society functioning and keeps civilisation working. 
    Laws are limits, guides for behaviour, so that we can operate
with others-- morals and ethics serve the same purpose. What
differentiates the written laws of a society from the unwritten,
moral and ethical ones? 

    Well, enough of my pretensions, you probably just want to see:


                Soul of Ice: Antithesis

I


    Ranma sat in the Nekohanten, with Akane mind you, and watched.
He watched Mousse and Shampoo move around, serving customers and
cleaning up. He watched as Cologne kept Mousse away from Ranma by
creating something for him to clean up, or sending him out to make
a delivery, or something else. 
    Closing his eyes, Ranma could almost feel the strings coming
from Cologne and into Mousse and Shampoo, making them dance like
puppets to her whim. Would she be that way with him, if he became
her student? Would he become like she was, enjoying the
manipulating and it seems nothing else? Would he--

    "Ranma, why are we doing here? Did you take me here just so I
could see you watch Shampoo in front of me?" Akane asked, somewhat
annoyed and getting moreso by the moment.

    "Nah, I just wanted to get away from the old goat, an' ya know
he's never around Cologne if he can help it, right? I figured you'd
wanna come too, okay?" He looked absently out the window. "'sides,
I'm hungry."

    "Finally, an argument I can believe: you're hungry. Let's just
finish and get out of here."

    Ranma made a point of looking at the bowls in front of them.
Specifically the empty one nearest him and the not-quite empty one
nearer to Akane. "You're the one who ain't finished, Akane. Hell,
maybe we should go now anyway-- I think yer puttin' on a bit o'
weight."

    This was, Ranma decided upon later reflection, a bad thing to
say, from an improve-the-relationship standpoint. On the other
hand, from a need-some-time-alone-to-think standpoint, it was a
truly inspired act. Inspired. Truly.

    Ranma resettled himself on the grass and stared into the canal.
Dinner would be ready in about another hour and a half, and it
would take... ten minutes to get back, he estimated. Need to show
up earlier as well: the inevitable explanations to be given, or at
least try to, to change, to wash up, and of course to secure his
position before his dad did and got all the food. Say forty five
minutes left here then to think. 
    A sigh later Ranma hopped onto one out of a set of stones in
the canal that broke its surface. The rock was wet and slippery,
but Ranma's balance was steady and sure. He stood on one leg and
rotated around slowly before hopping onto another stone, equally
slippery. Ranma hopped, leapt, skipped and jumped randomly from
stone to stone, once in a while changing legs, humming distractedly
all the while. Some people sat in a lotus position and chanted,
others whirled and whirled and whirled around in an intricate dance
while others had their own, more esoteric rituals they used to
meditate. Ranma practised his balance. 
    When the proper paradox of awareness and numbness finally
settled on Ranma, where everything became possible, but remained
only potential, Ranma released a two-fold question to his thoughts.
_Who am I, and what do I want to be?_
    A martial artist, of course, that went without saying, both who
Ranma was and what he wanted to be. A person could not be just one
thing, however, there was more to Ranma than that. He was brash, he
was arrogant, cocky, filled with pride. He was capable of pity,
although he would never want to receive it himself. He was
merciful, he was boasting. He was a manly man, he was, he was....

   Memories, words, sentences floated into consciousness. 

"Use the tools! Are you some kind of animal?"

"Your blows were like a force of nature!"

"You eat like a pig, Ranma."

"Uncivilised wretch!"

Wild Horse-- his name. Wild, that is what he was, but is that what
he wanted to be? Before Ranma could answer the question of what he
wanted to be, his self-imposed time for thinking finished, and he
started to make his way back to the Tendos. 


II


    Life for the Nerima martial artists continued on in a dreary
sameness, except the intensity of it grew to an even more frenzied
pace. Highs grew higher and lows grew lower. People and events were
becoming caricatures: Soun even more emotionally unstable, Akane
angrier, Shampoo more desperately affectionate, Happousai even more
lustful and lecherous. The regular insanity of life around Ranma
grew to another level. 
    Neither Cologne nor Happousai broached the subject of Ranma's
training again-- they did not need to. Everyone else did, by their
actions. The world did, the wind and the sky and the rain did.
_Make a choice, make a choice they chanted silently._ Awake or in
dreams Ranma was asked to make a decision. One day, he did.

    To look at it logically, to weigh the pros and cons, we have
the good points:

            Cologne                         Happousai

-no need to worry about lecherous       -freedom to tailor make 
activities                              own style
-a great wealth of knowledge            -a great wealth of 
-one part of the fianc�e problem        experience
already solved, with a solution         -personal freedom
promised
-knowledge of the curse, possibly
even removal

and the bad points:


            Cologne                         Happousai

-no personal freedom                    -is the knowledge useful, 
-possibly her puppet                    or will it even be given?
-possible no enjoyment                  -no solutions to anything


    Ranma, of course, did not look at it that way; perhaps on some
level, down, deep within, maybe, but otherwise, no. He was not
given to carefully examine each and every option, look at every
facet and figure out the costs and the benefits like another person
(perhaps Nabiki), but not Ranma. He only knew that his greatest,
most cherished ability was to adapt, both to new techniques used on
him and by him. There would be no room to adapt under Cologne--
Happousai? nothing but.
    A decision was made, and all that remained was to see what
would happen. Ranma already had an inkling of what his focus might
be, but again, an unconscious thought at best. 


III


    The riotous fury of Nerima did not slow or abate in any sense
just because Ranma made a decision: none were aware of the
decision, at any rate so how could it affect them? The Uncertainty
Principle at work, observing things changes them.
    Happousai's attacks on Ranma increased, both in number and in
virulence. One day, while Ranma was female (don't ask why, just
accept that he was), Happousai launched himself at Ranma's breasts.
Normally, Ranma would just punch the lecher until he lost his grip,
but instead Ranma dodged.
    What was different this time though, is that Ranma's evasion
worked. Instead of just moving slightly, just enough to avoid
Happousai, Ranma flung himself to his side. He did not even take
the time to look where he was going, he just did. Happousai ended
up face first in the brick wall enclosing the Tendo property. Genma
and Soun appeared from virtually nowhere to get in a few cheap hits
on their master as he was stunned. Ranma learned an important
lesson then, even if he could not yet articulate it.

 
IV


    The effects of Ranma's lesson, like all major, life-changing
lessons, were not immediately evident, at least, not to the casual
observer. A little bit cockier, perhaps. A little more
unpredictable, maybe. A tad less restrained, possibly. Take, for
example, a conversation with Akane.
    Soun was there, as was Genma; both staring intently at some
playing board. Ranma sat there, not so much watching television as
he was changing channels randomly. Akane entered the room, holding
a plate with some oven mittens. Steam came from the food on the
plate.

    "I want you to try this, Ranma," she said cheerfully. "I've
been trying out this new cake recipe and--"

    Ranma heard the words, "I've been trying out this new cake
recipe," from Akane and he knew what to expect. While it was true
that she could make food of an edible nature now, it was also
equally true that it only held true for certain food items, which
she practised a lot. New recipes were certainly a no-no. Good gods,
she might even have been experimenting with it! Ranma did the
sensible thing and looked up from the television set and said,
"No."

    "Why not?" Akane asked, a slight frown on her face which was
also present in her voice. 

    Genma and Soun took this as a cue to not draw any attention to
themselves, lest she try to feed them as well.

    "Have you tried it yet?" Ranma had gone back to flipping
negligently through channels.

    "I made it for you!"

    "So you haven't tried it an' you expect me to eat it. C'mon,
Akane. Everyone here knows what you're like in the kitchen. Walkin'
disaster, especially with new recipes. You prolly experimented, and
put some weird spices an' stuff in it too, didn't ya?"

    Needless to say, Akane did not react to well to Ranma's words.
Calmly, exceedingly so, in fact, she placed the tray down, so as
not to spill the food. "Ranma," she growled.

    Ranma looked up from the television set once more and settled
bored eyes on Akane. "You still here?" He looked and noted the dish
Akane had prepared sitting on the table. "Make a deal with ya. I'll
try it, if you will... first."

    "What?" Akane snapped out of whatever it was she was planning,
blind-sided by Ranma's proposal.

    "You heard me. You try it first, an' then I will. A good cook
always tries 'er own cookin', right?"

    Akane nodded dumbly. She took a bite of the food-- she'd show
Ranma that it was delicious, and if she had to try it first before
Ranma could accept that it was a good cake, then she would try it
first. It was... not such a good idea on Akane's part, in
retrospect.

    Ranma snickered. "Well, I ain't gonna eat that if it's doin'
that to ya, Akane," he said to Akane, who was turning green and
starting to make funny noises. Ranma went back to flipping through
the channels until he found a good spaghetti western: A Fistful of
Dollars. Nabiki came in and started to watch when she heard the
title.


V


    An all out brawl between Ranma and Happousai. Well, not all
out, at least, not on Happousai's part-- he was just having a
little bit of fun, of the splash Ranma and latch on to his tits
type of fun. Harmless, innocent, really.
    Perhaps not harmless, since Ranma was now engaged in an all-out
war against Happousai, and was extremely frustrated by the lack of
hits he was getting in. 
    
    Finally, Ranma screamed in frustration. "How're you avoiding
me? Are you reading my moves or something?"

    Happousai perched on top of a nearby telephone pole and
chuckled to himself. "Something like that, Ranma m'bo-- er, girl."
Ranma fumed. "I know what you're going to do at about the same time
you are. Your mental state, don't y'know."

    Ranma thought about it for a second then grinned wickedly.
"Thanks, perv, an' ta show my thanks, here's a little somethin' for
ya," 

    So saying, Ranma opened his shirt and flashed Happousai with
his assets. A time-honoured tactic of his which usually worked. The
results were predictable: Happousai leapt off the pole in a
headlong dive for Ranma's mammaries and instead found himself
eating a knuckle sandwich. 
    Happousai's words were something Ranma could work with. He
grinned and laughed as he walked away from the diminutive master of
martial arts.


VI


    If you are going to hide something from people, then you must
also hide it from yourself, as well, otherwise they can find it
through you. What made fighting someone untrained in martial arts
so much of a risk was not their skill, but that they themselves did
not know where they were going to hit. Unpredictable. Wild blows
which could randomly hit someone.
    Ranma had hit upon yet another important lesson, now he just
had to apply it and integrate it into his style. With the amount of
fights Ranma found himself in, there was little worry that he would
not have enough time for that. Easy enough matter to get practice
in. 
    Speaking of getting practice in, Ryouga was busy trying to find
his way somewhere, walking down the street Ranma found himself on,
all the while carrying some piece of paper in his hands. 

    "Hey, porky, what's that you got?" Two guesses who said that.

    "None of your business, Ranma!" Ryouga replied.

    "Mebbe I'm makin' it my business, pig. Y'never know, I might
just be able to help ya out," Ranma said, snatching the paper from
Ryouga's hands.

    Ryouga fumed and Ranma read, skimming the text. "Oh man, you
got it bad, piggy. I mean it. I should put you outta your misery
right now-- you'd thank me for it, you really would, if you were in
your-- I mean, a-- right mind." Ranma punctuated his dig at Ryouga
with a snort.

    "Give that letter back, Ranma!" Ryouga lunged at Ranma, who
merely held the letter out of the other boy's reach.

    "Who's it for? Akari? Akane? Hmm? Mebbe someone else, heh?
C'mon pig, you c'n tell me. Is it for me? Is it? My girl side, eh?
I mean, Akari, she ain't bad an' all-- you don't deserve her, you
ask me, but let's face it, I'm way better than Akane." Ranma
laughed, antagonising Ryouga even further and enjoying it
immensely.

    "Oh yeah, I almost forgot that you're just a girl, Ranma,"
Ryouga countered, knowing how much that would affect Ranma.

    It had the desired result. Ranma's normally jocular attitude
immediately disappeared. "Now that we got that over with, why don't
we just get it on now, eh, P-chan? You haven't been around in a
while, an' I kinda missed kickin' your sorry ass."

    "Let me show you what I've learned, Ranma," Ryouga smiled and
tapped the wall next to him.

    Ranma immediately fell flat on the ground, thus avoiding the
shrapnel from the wall as it burst where his face would have
otherwise been. Instead of just getting up, Ranma rolled to his
left, missing Ryouga's stomp which would have otherwise connected
with Ranma's head.
    Ranma whirred around crazily, sometimes behind Ryouga,
sometimes in front of him and sometimes to the side of him,
centimetres or metres away from his opponent, seemingly at random.
Ryouga did not know what to make of it, except that Ranma was not
launching any attacks, for some strange reason.

    "Stay still and fight, Ranma!"

    "Make me," Ranma grinned.

    Ryouga proceeded to try and do that. It was not that hard,
really, since Ranma had backed himself into a corner. Ranma still
did not launch an attack, so Ryouga took the opportunity to do so.
Ranma was simply not there to receive it, though, having instead
leapt out of the way and now behind his opponent. Three punches,
one which hit a kidney, another which hit the ribs and the third
which hit the other kidney were done in quick succession, before
Ryouga could turn around.
    Instead of skittering away like he normally would have, Ranma
stayed there and grinned. Ranma launched another attack, betting
that Ryouga's surprise would let him through Ryouga's defences
easily. Unfortunately, Ryouga was not quite as defenceless as Ranma
suspected and countered with a headbutt. Dazed, Ranma staggered
back, but Ryouga kept up his attack. 
    The end result? Ranma was bruised and beaten. Ryouga got his
letter back. Ranma was not happy. Ryouga was not happy either,
because the letter was now crumpled-- he would have to rewrite it
before giving it to its intended. 
    Though bent and somewhat mangled, Ranma's mouth curved into a
smile as he lay on the ground, recuperating. A first step, with
some potential shown.


Interlude One


    "Figured out your focus yet, Ranma?" Happousai asked, ever
inquisitive. 

    Late night, the roof of the Tendo dojo, both of them were
getting back from Happousai's rounds. Ranma, of course, tried to
stop him from making those rounds-- this was, of course, encouraged
by both his father and by Soun. 

    Ranma looked and Happousai, peeved at such a stupid question.
"What do you think?"

    "Me? Why, I'm flattered you ask my opinion, Ranma," Happousai
snorted. "No, I think if you had then you'd probably be a real
challenge. Heck, you'd probably win." Happousai casually pulled out
his pipe and began to fill it. "I think that you know what your
focus is, you just can't admit it yet. Maybe you're not willing to
go as far as you need to." Happousai shrugged and lit the pipe with
a brief flare of ki from his finger instead of a match. 

    Ranma looked on inscrutably as Happousai did such a thing so
casually. Happousai looked up negligently at his protege. "I don't
often show what I can do. I don't need to."

    Nodding, more to himself than to Happousai, Ranma flipped off
the roof and through his window, landing on his panda of a father.
Genma did not wake up, although he would wonder why he was a little
sore the next morning.


VII


    Changing, Ranma was changing so much and so quickly that you
could almost see it. He threw himself into training with a new
fervour that bordered on manic and obsessive. The strange thing
about it though-- even though Ranma spent more and more of his time
on martial arts--

    "He's getting sloppy, just look at that form," Genma said,
disgusted. 

    Ranma was in the training hall, shadow-boxing. Genma watched
from the doorway, with Akane near him. 

    "What form?" Akane asked rhetorically. "He's nearly formless."

    Ranma looked over at them and grinned, wild and mad. His eyes
glittered strangely in the lights and a sheen of sweat covered his
face in a transparent mask. 

    "Hah! Formless, hah! Sloppy, hah! More'n enough for you to
handle, both o' ya. Kick yer asses, no prob."

    "You will respect your father and your fianc�e, boy!" Genma
blustered.

    Ranma just smiled and made beckoning gestures with both of his
hands. "Make me," he whispered rapturously. 

    Something in Ranma's eyes made Genma wary, made him walk away
instead of trying to teach his son a lesson. Akane, visibly
disturbed by Genma's reaction, decided to follow him and leave
Ranma alone.

    Later that night, just slightly past the time when everyone was
either asleep or preparing to enter it, Akane was at the cusp of
falling asleep. "Hsst! Akane!" a voice whispered from the window of
her room. Not just any voice though-- Ranma's.

    The night sky was dark and clear, with a new moon and no clouds
to reflect and trap the light. Ranma hung upside down, like a bat,
outside, waiting for a reply. 

    "What do you want, Ranma?" Akane wearily replied.

    "Yo, I'm goin' out t'night-- little bit a fun on the town-- an'
I thought you might like t'go, too."

    "It's a school night, idiot. Have you forgotten?" Akane
peevishly answered.

    Ranma snorted derisively. "Feh, what's your point?" Ranma
flipped down, landing on the windowsill with his back towards the
room and Akane as he faced the outdoors. A backward glance, a
smirk, a brief, "Well, can't say I didn' ask," and a quick leap,
then he was gone.

    Akane went to sleep, putting the incident out of her mind. She
woke up early in the morning to a loud banging on the door. Putting
on her slippers and throwing a jacket over her shoulders, Akane
made her way down to the floor.
    The first thing Akane noted was who else arrived before her:
Mr. Saotome, her father, and Kasumi. Nabiki would not let something
as trivial as a loud banging remove her from bed or her rest. The
second thing Akane noted was the overpowering smell of alcohol and
cigarettes. Obviously her dad and Mr. Saotome went out drinking and
just got back. Strange, you'd expect Ranma would be there before
her. Didn't he--?

    "Hey, Akane," Ranma said, swaying dangerously just outside the
door. "Shoulda came. Lotta fun. Wuzza blast." Ranma belched
absently as he scratched his belly absently. Ranma made his way
through the fathers and the sisters and left them behind. "Gonna
sleep now."

    Attempts to question Ranma on his whereabouts, or his doings,
last night met  with a hand waving them off as he made his way to
his bedroll and fell asleep. Soun tried to wake Ranma, to no avail.
Genma actually dumped a bucket of water on his son-now-daughter,
which did nothing beyond getting Ranma wet and female.


VIII 


    Ranma lounged around the roof of the Nekohanten, sunning
himself. Too early and too not-hungry to go in and score some food
off of them, and too lazy to go anywhere else, he basked in the
sunlight, turning languid muscles into liquid and letting it flood
him with remembrances and odd thoughts. Memories of long ago,
memories of the beginnings of the long training journey which, for
at least a brief period of time, stopped at the Tendos. Memories of
lessons learned, memories of, memories of--

    Falling, and hitting the ground hard. Memories of fighting on,
anyway, because not to fight would only mean getting hurt even
more. Memories of one time when he asked his father the strangest,
oddest, most inconceivable question. "Why do I have to do this?"

    Genma looked at the boy, blinking stupidly from shock. "Why?"
he asked, a curious catch in his voice. 

    Genma crouched down on his haunches, and motioned for the young
Ranma to come closer-- Ranma complied. "Son, let me give this
advice to you. You come from a line of martial artists. You want to
be a martial artist too, right?"

    Ranma nodded. What else would he be? That was obvious.

    "Good. A martial artist has to be strong, to defend himself--
no one else will do that for him. I'm teaching you so that you
won't be weak, because you will find once you've grown up that
there will be no one who will protect you or help you. No one at
all." Ranma nodded again, not speaking so that he would not
interrupt his father. "Not only do you have to be strong for
yourself, you have to be strong for others. As a martial artist, it
is your duty to protect the weak, yours and yours alone, because no
one will help you. To protect yourself, you have to be strong. To
protect the weak, you have to be strong." 

    A very important lesson was ingrained into Ranma that day: he
had to be strong to survive, because there would never be anyone
who would be strong for him-- that was his job-- he had to be
strong for others.


    Memories turned into thoughts, and past lessons were not only
remembered, but also reconceptualised. Why did Ranma have to
protect others? What did he get out of it except more people
resenting his ability? More enemies who were jealous of him and
tried that much harder to pull him down to their level? What was
the point? Where did it get him? Why protect those who didn't want
to be protected, especially when it only made things worse for him?
It just wasn't smart. To survive, there would be a point where he
had to stop trying to protect others, especially those who
antagonised him. 
    Ranma looked up into the sun, squinting into its light and
heat. Simple, it was all so simple now; crystal clear-- easy as
breathing. Everything came together, he already knew it, he just
did not know that he knew it. Ranma came to a decision.

    Yes.

    He would do what he wanted.

    Yes.

    He would never be tamed.

    Yes.

    He would not regret.

    Never regret, yes.

    He would not submit to anyone or anything.

    Never give in, yes.

    He would not apologise; they would have to take him as he was.

    Most definitely yes.    

    He would overcome all obstacles between him and his desires.

    Yes.

    He would be wild and he would be free and no one would be able
to control him or stop him.

    Yes, yes, yes and forever yes.


IX


    The sun was shining, glaring off every reflective surface
around: windows, puddles of water, cars, Genma's glasses,
Happousai's head, everything. A bright day, the kind of brightness
which exists only in memories of childhood, and just as hot. With
the light, the glare and the heat steaming off the pavement and
distorting images, everything started to blend into everything
else-- sharpness and contrast became blurred and shapeless as eyes
strained to make out details. 

    "Whatever happened to Shampoo and Mousse and Cologne, anyway?"
Akane asked idly, soaking up the sun.

    Nabiki turned her head. Sunglasses reflected light, increasing
the glare from the sun. "They left for China."

    "I wonder why," Akane yawned, only mildly curious.

    "Because they finally realised my son is going to marry you,
Akane, and they knew it was useless to try and believe otherwise,"
Genma replied, a pair of tan trunks replaced the pants to his gi.

    Happousai, with his kerchief tied over his head in some
makeshift and unconcealing headgear/mask hopped over a wall and
snorted. "Maybe," he said derisively, "they found something about
Ranma that they don't like."

    Nabiki's interest was piqued, as was Akane's.

    "Really? I suppose you know what it is?" Nabiki queried.

    "Why don't you ask me?" Ranma said, low and feral as he
appeared behind the sun-worshippers.

    Akane jumped. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

    "Don' blame me if yer inattentive," Ranma said, then casually
leaned to the side and spat on the ground. His hair was unbound; it
usually was these days. A wild warren which seemed never to have
heard of a comb-- the hair was often like that, as well. 

    "What are you trying to say, Ranma?" Akane asked, starting to
get a little irritated at him as he roused her from her languor.

    Ranma cocked a grin --he smiled too much these days-- and
looked pityingly down at Akane. "Need help with that too, do you?
Can't figure it out by yourself? Why am I not surprised?" He
snorted and snickered to himself. Ranma looked up before Akane
could formulate a response. "I'm bored. I need some fun." Ranma
looked around. "Any of you up for some fun?"

    Nabiki was up for some fun, but not with Ranma and not with
Akane riled up by him like that. Besides, who knew what Ranma meant
by fun anymore? Akane, being riled up with Ranma as she was,
declined to participate in his offer. Ranma gave another derisive
snort, smirked and then left, hopping on top of the wall around the
yard and doing a couple of spins before walking drunkenly along to
find his fun.
    A distraction did not take long for Ranma to find. This
particular distraction came in the form of Ryouga, wandering the
streets of Nerima once more.

    "Hey, pig," Ranma greeted Ryouga cheerfully, whispering it in
the other's left ear. "Whachoo bin' upta?"

    "Bug off, Ranma. I've no time for this."

    "Oh? Too bad, cuz I got plenty a time, an' I'm kinda bored
right now and if you want me ta stop you gotta try an' make me,"
Ranma said, playfully, before laughing and bouncing crazily off the
walls enclosing the street.

    Ryouga briefly watched Ranma before deciding that it would be
better just to leave and try to arrive at his destination rather
than take the necessary time to beat some sense into Ranma. Ranma,
of course, would have none of it.

    "Where ya goin', porky? Mebbe I'll take ya there, if yer nice.
Get there sooner, ya will."

    "It's none of your business if I go see Akane, Ranma!" Ryouga
thundered. 

    "Hmmmm. Why you wanna see someone plain as her?" Ranma
questioned whimsically. 

    "Plain? Plain! You don't deserve Akane, Ranma!" Ryouga turned
around and faced his antagonist. 

    Their faces were centimetres apart. Smirk on his face, Ranma's
voice was nevertheless low and dangerous. "And you do?"

    "More than you do, Ranma!" 

    Ranma tilted his head to one side, and then to the other.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe I don't deserve someone like her."

    Something in Ranma's tone clued Ryouga into what he really
meant. "Are you saying that she's not good enough for you? That you
deserve better? You should be down on you _knees_ and giving thanks
every day, Ranma!" Ryouga was, needless to say, quite incensed by
now.

    "And what're you gonna do about it," Ranma asked, "pig?"

    "I'll do this!" Ryouga shouted and threw a punch which went
through the pavement where Ranma had been standing. 

    Ranma looked at Ryouga evenly from his perch on the top of a
telephone pole. "You bore me, piggie. G'wan," Ranma made a
dismissive gesture with his hand, "get out of here. I'm not
interested anymore."

    Ranma hopped off the pole quicker than Ryouga could see and ran
through streets in a random pattern, feet barely touching the
surface as he nearly flew. Ryouga blinked stupidly at the direction
he last saw Ranma going, before turning around-- he was in front of
the Tendos. Shrugging to himself, Ryouga entered the Tendo
domicile. 

    "What's with Ranma? He's acting really weird," Ryouga mentioned
to Akane when he finally found her outside, near the dojo with her
sister, both trying to get premature wrinkles with exposure to the
sun.

    Akane looked up. "Oh, hi, Ryouga. He's been getting very
strange lately. Even more training, but he looks even worse and
worse. I'm kind of worried, actually. Do you know anything?"

    Happousai, who was still hanging around, perhaps because Akane
and Nabiki were both in bikinis, or it might have been that he knew
Kasumi would be finished cooking something soon, and he wanted some
of her cooking, asked, "What makes you think that? Maybe he knows
something you don't?"

    "You mean a new technique or something?" Ryouga asked.

    Happousai laughed. "Or something. He knows who my heir is, I'll
tell you that much."

    "Really, master? You have an heir now? Perhaps you should take
your heir on a training mission then," Soun, who appeared like a
bolt from above, said confidently-- confident that whoever the heir
was, it was not him.

    "I have found someone who has the precepts and has the true
focus needed for Anything Goes, far beyond whatever miserable
excuse for a student you were, Soun."

    "And that would be--?" Akane asked, half-knowing the answer
while the other half knew it was impossible.

    "Soup is ready, if anybody would like to try some," Kasumi's
voice rang out. Happousai, of course, wanted to try some (along
with Genma, I might add).

    The interruption of food proved to be a sufficient distraction
for everyone to forget about grilling Happousai about what he knew;
by the time Akane and Ryouga remembered, Happousai was long gone.
    Ranma arrived back at the Tendo house with his shirt only
partially tucked in. He was greeted at the door with a barrage of
questions by Akane, reinforced morally and otherwise by Ryouga.
Genma and Soun had their questions as well, from behind Akane and
Ryouga.

    It was all, "Whoyabeen whereyabeen doyouknowwhattimeitis?" and
"Lookatyou! Howdareyoucomeinherelookinglikethat!
Whatkindofwomanhaveyoubeenwith?" Ryouga joined in the chorus,
adding his say. "You'renotgoodenoughforAkane!
You'regoingtomarryAkane! You'regoingtomarrymydaughter! AkaneAkane
AkaneAkaneAkanemarryAkaneAkanehowcouldyouAkaneRanmayou'renotworthAk
anemarrydutyhonourAkanemartialaristAkane--" until finally Ranma
quieted them.

    "Fuck," he said, "off." The cacophony of voices died out
immediately in shock.

    "What did you say?" Akane whispered, horrified and shocked by
this level of rudeness and profanity from Ranma. 

    Ranma smirked and said, "I dont need to repeat myself-- you
heard what I said."

    "Apologise to Akane, Ranma!" the other three males there
shouted out.

    "Make me," Ranma said then giggled hysterically.

    Ryouga launched himself as Akane looked around for a heavy,
blunt object and settled for a nearby table. Instead of dodging,
Ranma stood in place and let Ryouga's charge carry them outside,
where he quickly flipped himself around Ryouga, ending up on the
fanged one's back. Ranma put his hands over Ryouga's eyes, which
only served to enrage Ryouga more, until he ran into and through a
wall. 
    Ranma released his hold on Ryouga, who, confused by the dust,
got lost trying to find Ranma. Genma and Soun were next, thinking
that together they might be able to overpower Ranma. The edge had
come off Akane's anger and she was in the process of putting the
table down.
    The duo of Genma and Soun rushed Ranma-- more or less. Neither
of them wanted to be the first one to face Ranma and therefore take
the brunt of Ranma's retaliation, and yet they could not act like
they were lagging behind. A strange kind of reluctant rush,
definitely not whole-hearted. Ranma whirled around and looked at
them with mad, manic, marvelous eyes and laughed in his hilarity.
To Genma and Soun, it looked like Ranma was completely open and
defenseless in his rapture. They rushed him full-heartedly, now.
They were wrong.
    Just before the two middle-aged men connected with well
executed strikes to Ranma's gut, he disappeared, whirling and
capering about on top of the wall, just on the edge of where Ryouga
smashed through it. Ranma was still laughing, of course-- the type
of laugh Kodachi might join in on, except perhaps it was more
riotious, less restrained than even she could manage.

    "Gonna have ta do better'n that if ya want me ta marry th'
tomboy, old men," Ranma taunted. "Watch this!" 

    Ranma leapt onto the ground and landed in a crouch, spinning
himself as he stood up. With an confident half-smirk, he placed his
left hand, which was starting to blur, on the wall. A good section
of the wall exploded, but the rubble after the dust cleared was not
enough to account for the amount of wall which was damaged.

    "Do you like what I just did?"

    "Hah! So you know the Breaking Point, son, so what? We know its
weakness," Genma blustered. He nudged Soun and whispered in his
friend's ear, "His body will be harder and he won't feel our blows.
Aim for his eyes, poke him there and he'll be hurt and
disoriented." Soun nodded.

    "That ain't what I did, pop. This'll work on anything, for one.
'side, didja notice there's a lot less crap on the ground?"

    Genma paled. Bluffing, Ranma had to be bluffing. Genma looked
into his son's eyes. The boy wasn't bluffing-- he had absolutely no
poker face, never did. "Soun," Genma started imploringly.

    The sound of two hands clapping behind Genma turned him around.
The source of the sound was Happousai, sitting by the door, puffing
away on his pipe and slowly clapping. "Found your focus, eh boy?"

    Ranma bowed fluidly to the diminutive martial artist. "Yeah,
an' it feels great!" Ranma showed a toothy smile to the world.

    "Interesting technique," Happousai commented absently. "Setting
up discordant vibrations in the stone and letting it rip itself
apart?" Happousai blew some smoke in the shape of a pair of thong
panties. "But there's not enough debris left. What happened to the
rest of it?"

    Ranma waved his hand in the air. "Dust. Gas. Don't really know,
don't really care. I can destroy, or just damage with it."

    "Get out of here," Soun whispered, horrified. "Get out. I see
you now, I know what you are."

    Ranma looked at Happousai, not saying a word. Happousai took
one more puff from his pipe before responding for Ranma. "Soun, how
can you say that to my heir? He's going to inherit the Anything
Goes school, after all. No one else could fit the role, certainly
not either of you, not now. You never had it in you, Soun, and
Genma? you had your chance. Ranma's better, anyway."

    Ranma walked towards Happousai, with his Cheshire cat grin and
his Mad Hatter eyes he passed between Genma and Soun, who shivered
and parted way. "That's what I wanted to hear, old man," he said,
voice rough and somewhat distorted somehow. Ranma turned to his
audience. "It's very simple. We'll all be very happy if you just
stay out of my way and don't give me any shit," he said,
patronising. Ranma looked down at Happousai. "Ready for a little
fun?" he asked.

    Happousai blew one last puff of smoke from his pipe before
knocking it clean against the doorframe. He stood up and nodded,
with a grin matching Ranma's.


X


    Ranma stood up. The walls trembled as such a sight. He had a
room to himself now, just like Happousai did. Genma bunked with
Soun, too afraid of his son to spend the night in the same room. 
    No one would look at Ranma anymore-- no one could. The was
something indefinite about him now; a peculiar lack of sharpness or
a blurriness which made it nearly impossible for someone to really
make out any of his features, even as he slept. The effect extended
to whatever clothes Ranma wore.
            oI  G  
    "i'M g    n   oUT !noW" Ranma announced to the air, not caring
if anyone else heard and knowing that they all did. His voice was
out of synch with his lips, or would be, if one concentrated enough
and looked at his mouth as he talked.

    Ranma left his room in a state of disrepair and extreme mess:
unmade bed (futon, really), clothes scattered across the floor,
both clean and dirty, an odd selection of broken sea-shells and
strange rocks, and an alarm clock turned on its side. He stalked
down the streets, owning them completely-- not heeding the
multitude of small pot-holes. Giggling hysterically, Ranma suddenly
leapt onto the side of a wall and started running, leaving
patternless tracks along the surface as he made his way. Whooping
with glee, Ranma spiralled off the wall and back onto the ground.
    The weather was forboding, storm clouds hung over Nerima, but a
wind held hope that the clouds might blow away before they unloaded
their cargo on the city. 
    Happousai zoomed by, a large bag of underwear _liberated_ from
the young women who recently wore them on his back. Said women were
in the process of chasing Happousai, who found himself stopped in
mid-flight by Ranma's hand, who caught him.
                    
    "Why did you do that, student?"

       "'fected-- technique! ;nOt STudent? trAINing coMPLeTe, now."
Ranma's voice echoed in his chest, creating strange resonances.

    "Well what are you going to do?"

    "Japan, Tendos, Nerima. Small too for me."

    About half the girls who were chansing Happousai fell, tripping
on untied shoelaces or on others who fell. Ranma noticed them and
leapt towards a nearby rooftop.

    "Why tell me?"

    Ranma shrugged, a gesture Happousai was just barely able to
make out. "fElt like? (It)."

    The pair of martial artists were at the boundaries of the city,
heading for the forest. Buildings behind them sagged slightly,
looking distorted in some unknown and nameless deformity. Ranma
dropped Happousai, whom he had been carrying in one hand, and kept
on heading away from civilisation.

    "Where will you go?" Happousai shouted just as Ranma was about
to disappear from sight. 

    Ranma turned around. For a brief moment, he was clear and
defined again. "To have some fun, of course!" was the shouted
reply. A shudder, a shimmer and Ranma was gone-- into the wilds,
into the world.




More musings from the madman: 

    Hrm. The prefaces were actually written before the stories--
strange, but true. This one got away from me a bit, although the
ending conformed somewhat to my plan-- it was the stuff before it
that kind of went its own way and refused to be controlled by me.
Considering the story, it's probably symbolic or ironic or another
word that ends in -ic.
    You expected maybe something happy or endearing? Why? Just
because this should be opposite of SoI: Thesis? Whoever gave you
that idea? Sitting at either pole, wouldn't you think that they
would be somewhat similar in certain respects?

Anyway, Yay! Now I can get on with something else! Maybe even
something (heavens forfend) not Ranma! Back to my El Hazard roots,
even! Gosh, wouldn't that be swell?


  

Matthew "Maybeso" Lewis is:
InDefinitelyso on IRC
Sojiro_Seta on Kawaiimuck
	maybeso@ican.net
prone to exaggeration, 150% of the time
____________________________________________________________

Z embla, Zenda, Xanadu:
A ll our dream worlds may come true.
F airy lands are fearsome too.
A s I fade far from view
R ead and bring me home to you.
	-dedication from Haroun and the Sea of Stories
	 by Salman Rushdie
____________________________________________________________