Thanks go to Murmur the Fallen (HARIJUBAL@aol.com) for
taking a look at it. I think I've cut down the melodrama
to slightly more tolerable levels (have a previous copy if
you want to know how bad it was). Me and melodrama are
strange-- I find what other people think is okay excessive,
and vice-versa, many times. I'm not a good judge of it, at
any rate.
	Any remaining faults are mine and mine alone. All blame
should be laid rest solely on my shoulders.

So, the disclaimer goes something like this: Ranma 1/2 is the
creation of Rumiko Takahashi, as are all characters and stuff
within, of which I have no rights to. Since I do not intend to
profit in any material way from this, I'm not letting some
pesky copyright laws or moral sense stop me from doing this
though. Ah, the lack of a conscience is such a liberating
thing.... ^_^




Preface:

    Ah yes, once again one of the (in)famous Soul of Ice prefaces.
(hey, if/when I ever send them to RAAC, these won't show up, so
you should feel priveleged, or cursed, or something like that, 
at any rate) ^_-
What am I going to bore you with this time? ^_^

    So I once said something about it being a series which involves
the choices we make while growing up to form what we become. The
passage to adulthood. Meant to, at least. 
    In Thesis, Ranma became something unhuman, a being of pure
logic and order. A machine, which could not comprehend desire or
emotion and wrote off such things as weak and irrelevant. In
Antithesis, Ranma became a being of pure want and desire-- totally
focused on his own wishes, and as random and chaotic as entropy. 
    In both Thesis and Antithesis, things worked out for Ranma;
from his point of view in each of them it was not a bad ending. It
is only us, not looking at it from Ranma's point of view, and we,
having our humanity intact, as readers who can say that it was not
a good ending, that things did not work out. In Antithesis, Ranma
was happy, and in Thesis, he was beyond or below or beside such
concepts as happiness.
    So what happens here? What happens when you try to do both at
the same time? Well, I think this one's a bit darker than the
others, myself. I might even go so far as to label it dark, though
I wouldn't for the others, for reasons previously mentioned. Point
of view, you see.
 
  
Why this way? Because not all stories are happy, not all endings
are just, and not everyone comes through the journey to adulthood
unscathed, I give you:


                Soul of Ice: Synthesis-- Broken


I


    Ranma stood at the edge of the cliff; eyes glazed over, he
looked delirious, staring back at Akane-- perfectly normal for
Ranma, these days. "Sometime don't remember who I am anymore. I
wasn't... I can't...," go on, "not any longer...." Ranma's voice
was dull and hollow, it sounded like it did not know what it was
saying anymore.

    Akane opened her mouth, wanting to plead with this shell which
Ranma had become, but before she could utter the words, his eyes
cleared. This too was normal for Ranma these days-- almost like he
was at least two different people, one dead, or nearly so, and the
other too alive, moods changing like quicksilver. The too alive one
was better though, better than the deadness. A hearkening back to
before: when he was healthy and stong, not this underweight and
whip-thin shell. 

    "I don't blame you, none of you. Not really," he said almost
casually, hints of power buried deep within his voice.

    "What do you mean, Ranma?" Akane asked, perplexed and afraid of
what was to come.

    Ranma looked towards the sun as it set upon the edges of the
sea the cliff overlooked. "I don't blame any of you for trying to
find happiness, but you didn't have to try and rip away mine to get
yours." 

    Happy? Was that what they really wanted from Ranma? Could it be
all she had really needed from him? 

   "I could have been so bright! If only you would have let me!"
he pleaded, voice becoming shrill with desire, not giving Akane any
time to respond, barely giving enough time to let her absorb what
he was saying. "If only all of you stopped smothering me, if only,
if only...." Ranma giggled: high, shrill and piercing-- hysterical
laughter. "I found a way out though, the only way left for me."
Still, still, deathly quiet and still. "Goodbye, Akane."

    Goodbye? He couldn't-- could he?

    Ranma spoke once more as he snapped out of his fit. Resigned to
his fate, tired, but still proud, Ranma said, "At least I die
myself. Tell them that, will you? Despite everything, I die
myself." 

    Before Akane could respond, before Akane could move, Ranma
started to tilt backwards, his eyes never leaving Akane's, pinning
her down. Slowly, inexorably, Ranma continued until at last he fell
off the cliff and landed on the rocks below.


II


    Sit on the grass and absorb the scene. Call it about noon, with
the sun high overhead. A time of no shadows or hidings, only
perfect clarity. The cherry trees are not in blossom, those petal
had already fallen months ago, but they aree growing and alive.
    Sit on the grass and absorb the scene. Ranma is, watching
Mousse chase after Shampoo across the town as she makes her
deliveries on her bicycle. Watch Ryouga wander by, looking for
Akane, or perhaps Akari, or maybe even Ranma-- then again maybe
some other girl showed some kind of interest in him, you never
knew. Very fickle-- kind of like Kuno, in that respect.
    Sit on the grass and absorb the scene, but do not become part
of it. Stare at the brief clouds, stretched out across the sky like
paint strokes which mostly missed the canvas. Think about things,
about past conversations, past offers. Dream of the future, what it
holds and how to get it. Enjoy the present, because you never know
when you will get a chance to do so again. Do it quietly, of
course, lest you attract the notice of any of the people passing
by, like Akane, for instance.

    "Have you seen P-chan, Ranma?"

    Too late. She noticed. Ranma stretched and sat up slowly,
blinking hazily at Akane. "Ask Ryouga. He might know. Saw 'im go
that way," Ranma pointed in Ryouga's last known direction. "Think
'e might be lookin' for ya." Ranma went back to his previous
position, pondering the clouds.

    "Thanks, Ranma," Akane smiled and left.

    Sit on the grass and absorb the scene. Take the chance to rest
and let the peace fill you. Nice, calm, and inviting-- a nice break
from life. While watching the clouds, it might be a good idea to
think things over. Certain offers made by certain martial artists,
and certain statements they have also made. A problem to be
resolved, and, though it might seem strange, a choice to be made.
    Ranma made his usual decision, but this time in a different
way. Yes, he would not choose one over the other, neither Cologne
or Happousai exclusively, leaving the choice in the open, as usual,
but this was an action, instead of passiveness or an unwillingness
to choose. How much better would he be if he could combine the two?
Everyone knows alloying makes things stronger, right? Combining
things to make a stronger and superior end product-- very
reasonable. They would balance each other out-- status quo. 
    There was a very basic thing Ranma forgot as he watched the
world go by: yes, alloying would make things better, but he forgot
that some things do not mix. Some, just would not mix, like water
and oil, others had a more... active result, like matter and
anti-matter.


III


    Look at her, look at her. Feel no revulsion at her withered,
dessicated form. There is nothing unnatural with it, it is a
natural occurence, the logical progression of life. This, too, will
most likely happen to you, should you live long enough.
    Don't listen to me though, just look at her, look at her:
cooking and serving food with utmost efficiency. Do you see that
she does it without complaint, without noise, without any trace of
irritation at serving these people who are so weaker than her? This
is as much a training exercise as anything else, Ranma.

    "H'lo, Cologne," Ranma said evenly. "Do you wanna start
training me now?"

    "Here, put this on and start up front. You know what to do,"
Cologne said as she threw a pink and frilly object at Ranma-- an
apron. He knew exactly what to do, having done it once before. This
time though, he remained male.

    Get over the comments, the snickering and the laughing and
guffawing of the customers, many of them students at Furinkan.
Their snide remarks now and later, in school, are nothing, they do
not signify, do not matter in the least and therefore are not felt,
not noticed at all, because they themselves, the customers, the
students, do not signify. The laughter does not matter because the
people laughing do not matter, and if they do not matter then what
does anything they do, or anything they think, matter?
    This is but the first step on the path towards stillness, a
beginning to learn to attain a true Soul of Ice, now and forever.

    Hush.
    Be quiet, heart, hush.
    Calm, cool, slow and steady. Hush.
    Hush, hush.
    Ignore them, they can do nothing to you. Hush.
    Hush, heart, hush.
    

IV


    "Hello, Happi!" Ranma grinned outrageously and followed it up
with a similar laugh. A bar was as good a meeting place as any
other, and better than most, since no one would suspect Ranma would
be in one.

    Ranma walked over to the diminutive master, mug of some form of
beer in hand, rich golden in colour and foam, sloshing and
splashing around a bit as he made his way to the stool Happi took
at the far end, having just entered the bar.

    "You're drunk," Happousai said bluntly.

    "Jealous?"

    "Yes," Happousai admitted. "Now, what did you want?"

    "Takin' you up on yer offer, iffit's still good, thatis."

    "So, why tell me here?"

    Ranma swilled down another beer and slammed the empty mug on
the counter, signalling for a refill. "Hey, ivit feels good, doit,
righ? 'n damn, but thiz feelzgood!" Ranma staggered off to a pool
table somewhere in the back of the establishment.

    Happousai merely nodded to himself and ordered an especially
potent drink. A rip-roaring time was had by the two of them, though
tomorrow morning they paid the standard price for such revelry--
the hangover. 

    "Wake up, boy!" thundered Genma. Ranma moaned out a reply.

    The hangover did not last long, however, due in part to a
physique used to throwing off foreign substances and capable of
going through walls with little to no difficulty, and due in part
to a little something Happousai told Ranma the night before. A
little technique, or trick, one might say, to hurry the hangover
along.

    Burn, blood, burn.
    Be wild, be free, be brave, be bold.
    Rush, untamed-- through body, through brain. Be fun, be free.
    Burn, boil and burn with rush and speed.

    This trick had the side-effect of restless energy, the mental
equivalent of popping caffeine pills. A few moments of
disorientation, and Ranma leapt up from his bed, laughing and
whooping with energy and glee-- energy and glee which inflicted
itself upon Genma in the form of a sound beating and dousing of
cold water. Happousai noticed, and gave Ranma the wink and thumbs
up. Ranma returned it, along with his normal cocky smile.
    A bath, long and hot and luxurious, was simply divine. Sun was
out, too. Nice day, bright, sunny and warm. No cares in the world,
today. Perfect day to enjoy doing nothing: absolutely,
marvellously, deliciously, wonderfully nothing. Stretch and yawn
and grunt, because that always made stretching feel better, then
head back outside. Few people knew how to do nothing properly.
Ranma laughed at the thought. He certainly did.
    Stretch out on rocks and soak in the sun, letting her rays
gently loosen muscles with their warmth. Feeling somewhat akin to a
lizard, Ranma decided to further imitate a lizard and flicked his
tongue in and out sporadically, tasting the air, before laughing in
mirth.


V


    Training was more intense now, on both sides. Both masters
wanted proof that their training was taking effect. Two days ago,
Cologne had Ranma sit in a meatlocker for the whole day, while she
turned the power off. Instead of using electricity to keep it cold
and keep the meat from going bad, Ranma was supposed to do that
with his aura. Well enough, except that at the end of the day, when
Cologne came to inspect the hanging carcasses, two of them were
completely cooked, while another beside one of them was encased in
ice. The rest of the meat was fine. Cologne was not impressed,
although she was slightly puzzled.
    Cologne was not the only one dissapointed. Yesterday, Ranma
went out with Happousai to do some training. 

    "You're heart isn't in it today, Ranma. Why's that?" Happousai
asked, picking up on Ranma's mood immediately. Another night of
boozing (part of the training, Happousai insisted-- to lower
inhibitions, which was the important part) and fighting-- with each
other or with others, it did not matter.

    "I fail to see the point of it," Ranma said calmly.

    "Point? What point? The point is to have fun! Who cares about
anything else?"

    "Why bother? This," Ranma held up a glass of some form of
alcohol and swished it around a bit, "dulls reactions, sense, kills
brain cells, damages the liver, the list goes on. Wouldn't it be
better not to drink?"

    "Feh, don't worry about what's going to happen tomorrow,
Ranma!" Happousai scoffed. "What about now? Forget about tomorrow,
it's too far away. Now, drink up." Happousai downed a shot and
peered at Ranma, who was holding his glass.

    Ranma nodded, more to himself than to Happousai, and downed the
glass in one swig. Happousai nodded approvingly. "Good. Now, let's
see what we trouble we can find, Ranma m'boy."



VI

    Dream of being ripped in two, once, twice. Dream of each piece
being quartered again, and still not enough to go around. Dream of
people feasting on what remains, a frenzy of desire and blame.
    Split along the curse, male and female; split along Happousai
and Cologne; split along Akane, Shampoo, Ukyo and Kodachi, two, two
and four. Mousse, Ryouga, Shampoo, Tatewaki, Kodachi, Nabiki, his
father Genma, Soun, principal Kuno, Hinako, Akane, Happousai,
Cologne, everyone-- they all wanted him, all wanted a piece of him,
all of him.
    Break the bonds, unlock the manacles and snap the chains, then
run. Run, run away, run as far and as fast as you can, and it still
won't be enough, they will still follow, still be there when you
stop. Nothing to do, nothing, nothing nothingnothingnothing.
Nowhere to go, not at the edge of a cliff, not with them all coming
for him, squabbling amongst themselves as they made their way
inexorably towards him with clawed hands and razor-sharp teeth
gnashing against each other, chittering and chattering and wailing
and caterwauling and the cacophony was deafening, maddening, and
without end. Ranma turned around and looked down. The sea pounded
and foamed at the sharp rocks below. The cliff-face was too steep
and too smooth to climb down, even if there had been time.

    "If I had wings, I could fly away," Ranma murmurred to himself.

    Looking over his shoulder, back at his tormenters, Ranma
noticed long white feathers. From his back, just out of the
shoulder blades, wings. Swan's wings, eagle's wings, angel's wings,
it did not matter. Wings to fly away. 
    One last look back, and then a grin and outstretched arms and
hands, facing the sun and a mighty leap. Wings unfold and flap,
beating against the air until he catches a thermal, and soars high
above the cliff, watching the horde wail ineffectively as he soars
away, their noise fades away as Ranma is bathed in sunlight,
stripping away the dross, dissolving the remnants of the chains.
    Become a being of pure light, letting the sun's rays filter
through you, and then, and then--
                                 --wake up and see your father, as
your father and not some Chinese bear, staring at you.

    "You don't look so good son. What's the master been doing with
you?"

    "Training, pop. Late night. Lemme sleep."

    "The path of a true marital artist is--"

    "This body needs more rest," Ranma said, cold and impersonal.
Unconsciously switching to a very thick and very rough accent,
Ranma continued in an annoyed voice, "Nee' sleep, you betcha. You
come back later, or I'll kick yer ass."

    Genma blinked, then did the unusual and left his son alone, to
sleep off whatever Happousai did to him. Genma placated his
somewhat guilty conscience by telling himself that it was better
that it happened to Ranma than to him.


IVIII


    You have to control yourself, that was the key, except that you
had to enjoy it. No, that's not right. No restraint, gotta let it
all out, fight with everything you have, take no prisoners, but
remember it's all impersonal-- don't have any fun because that'll
just weaken you. Pleasure, pain, it's all the same thing. Equally
bad, no, equally good. Yeah, that's it. Why is it so hard to
remember which is what and what is which?
    Balance practice was yesterday. Dancing on the head of a
needle. Don't know how many angels can do that, but I can! Can walk
on water now and not get wet. Can't walk _in_ water and do that
though, but can walk on water.
    Maybe that was last week, because yesterday was a barfight,
wasn't it? Watching the game on the television set, can't remember
who was playing, or what the score was, and some idiot changed the
channel, didn't they? Feh, never do that again. Showed him who's
who and what's what. Good game too, or was it? Can't remember.
    Doesn't matter, that happened two weeks ago, anyway, right? Not
important anyway. Important thing was kicked his sorry ass up and
down the block, literally. Cologne was there, she saw it happen.
No, wait, she said to do it, goaded the other guy on, in fact.
That's wrong, the perv was there, looking up a waitress' skirt, not
the ghoul. Yeah, has to be. So what was this about Cologne? Oh
yeah, she was there too. She was the one who changed the channel,
wasn't she?
    Sounds right. Good. Good. Goodgoodgoodgood good. Nobody knows
getting training from both of them, mastering both their styles.
Gonna be great. Got 'em all fooled, pack of leeches, all of them.
Feh, Show them who's what, and what's who soon. Won't let them rip
apart anymore. Gonna grow wings and fly away. Hah, never catch
then. None of this "Oh Ranma, save me!" "Oh Ranma! Prepare to die!"
"Oh Ranma, marry me and become my slave!" Hah. Never. Not that.
    Gonna find a way to escape, hit the road, get outta town and
nevernevernever look back again. Gotta remember why though, what
was the plan again? Oh yeah, gonna escape. Escape what? This
place-- that sounds right. Gonna escape, because of, because of,
because of... doesn't matter why, just do it. No, wait, can't do it
until know why, until training's done, until, until.
    Tired. Very tired. Nap, that's it. Can't leave them until a
nap.
    

IIIXI


            Confusion. 



    Not good--              what is good? Good exists?



  No good. No evil. Concepts meaningless. No right, no wrong, 
            only power.


                         to someONE
        Tried explaining
                                    but can't remember who.


            Unimportant. Trivial. It all is, they all are.


                    Who are they? They do not matter. Ah.
Understand--

                                        !almost

            Growling noise? stomach. body nEEDS FOOD. Body is
            unimportant though. Joints ache. Could move, stretch.
            unimportant though. Doesn't matter. not worth: the
            effort. Nothing is. Dust. Dust in the desert.



    Dreaming or awake? Doesn't make any difference. Same thing.
Doesn't matter. 



                as
        Just                anyway.

                    tired


Was that wall there before? Very interesting. Further study might
be useful. Lot to learn from a wall. Walls don't complain, walls
don't feel, walls don't hurt. Walls are perfect. Must train to
become a wall.


9ish


    Taro came by to visit one day; a statement that while
technically true, was very, very misleading. Another attempt to get
Happousai to change his name. Happousai, however, was not at the
Tendo household, or even, as far as anyone knew, in Nerima. Ranma,
currently male, if one cared to note, did not notice, however,
staring as he was at a wall, seemingly trying figure out or
remember what exactly a wall was and what it did.

    "What's wrong with fem-boy?" Taro asked, customary sneer and
derisiveness on his face and in his voice. 

    Nobody answered, shying away from the question and the
questioner. Ranma continued his contemplation of the wall, or
perhaps it was some spot in front of the wall.

    Taro slapped his hand heavily on Ranma's shoulder. Ranma turned
his head, in short, jerky motions, and looked up with unfocused
eyes.

    "If I can't see Happousai, then I may as well have a bit of fun
beating on fem-boy. I'd hate for the trip to be a total waste,
after all." Taro was all arrogance, with his smirk and his tone of
voice.

    "It... doesn't," Ranma spoke slowly, in a dead, bored tone,
"matter?"

    "I know that. I'll win, but you see, fem-boy, I need to work
off some stress."

    Taro looked at Ranma again, and looked at everyone else, who
was pointedly ignoring the situation, and almost left, without
fighting. The operative word, mind you, is _almost_, which may
count for horseshoes, but does not count for martial artists.
Picking Ranma up forcefully, Taro slung the other martial artist
over his shoulder and headed outside-- to keep collateral damage
down, but more importantly to give him space to manoeuvre with his
curse, should he get splashed. 
    The battle was unusual, to say the least. Taro made the first
move, after it became clear that Ranma would not attack first.
Ranma stood there, not moving, not really looking at Taro, for five
minutes before Taro rushed him with two quick jabs to the stomach,
which doubled Ranma over.
    Ranma picked himself up slowly off the ground, moving
hesitantly, like an old man wiith brittle bones. Regaining some
life in his eyes, Ranma became aware of his situation, and moved
with surprising speed to retaliate with a kick to Taro's head,
which suddenly stopped before it could touch the other boy's cheek.
    A quick roundhouse to the side of the head knocks Ranma back
before he decides to complete his kick. Ranma looked surprised and
stared at the foot which launched the kick as if it had a life of
its own. Two swift kicks to the floating ribs by Taro stopped that,
and Ranma clutched his side in agony. Most likely they were
fractured if not totally broken. Another kick to the head, the
right eye. 
    Venting his frustrations on Ranma started to lose its appeal to
Taro, who stopped laying blows on the fallen martial artist. Ranma
looked up through his left eye, his other one closed shut from the
beating he was taking. Taro stood above him, fist clentched,
smirking in the way Ranma used to, once. Taro sneered, and spat at
the ground near Ranma's face.

    "Pitiful, fem-boy. You're even worse than I remember," Taro
said, before turning around and walking away.

    "Wait," Ranma croaked, struggling to stand up. Taro turned
around. "Wait," Ranma repeated. 

    "What for?"

    "Not done yet."

    "I don't care. You're still a wimp, and I could take you with
one hand behind my back. I beat you, fem-boy."

    Ranma shook his head. "Not done yet," he repeated. "Finish it,"
he said, baring his neck to Taro.

    "Nah, why bother? You aren't ever going to be a challenge for
me, I don't need to worry about you. There's no point, fem-boy, I
don't need to do it!" Taro laughed.

    "Finish it," Ranma repeated, in the same dead tone. 

    Taro snorted and turned around, walking away once more.

    "Finish it!" Ranma shouted to Taro's back, urgency and need and
pleading and rage all at once.

    "Why bother?" Taro called back, over his shoulder.

    Ranma's only reply was a snarl of rage. Taro was hit
unsuspecting in the back by a charge from Ranma, which knocked the
older boy off his feet. Ranma's face was distorted by pure,
unadulterated rage. "I told you to finish it!" he shouted, rushing
over to Taro.

    Taro rolled and missed the stomp Ranma had aimed for the
kidneys, and sprang up. "Still some life in you yet, eh, fem-boy?
Guess I was mistaken."

    "Me too," Ranma said darkly before rushing Taro.

    A flurry of blows, a flurry of blocks and parries, all too fast
for the eye to follow, but which ended up with Taro flying away
from the confrontation. Eyes no longer dead, face no longer
suffering from a dislocated confusion, Ranma was different now. No
hesitation, no disjointed, jerky, half-hearted attacks now. No joy,
no fun, no plan, no thought, just apoplectic rage anger. Ranma
fought like wildfire now. Taro was unprepared for an assualt of
this nature. Who wouldn't be, though? Who could withstand the power
of nature, for that was what Ranma was akin to now. The fury of a
storm and the power of the waves behind his fists, and the howling
of the wonds in his wordless, incessant cry.
    Ranma picked Taro up and threw him. Taro landed in a pool of
water-- the kind you throw small change into, at a mall or in the
city. The results were predictable, Taro changing into his
monstrous form, tentacles, wings, horns and all. The newly changed
monster roared out of the pool, tentacles writhing in fury and
confidence as there was no way now that Ranma could beat him. Taken
by surprise before, that's all that it was. Caught off-guard.
Nothing more. Now though, now, Taro would show Ranma his true
power, now he would--

                     --find Ranma leaping onto his back, snarling
and foaming at the mouth, tearing at the tentacles, trying to rip
them off, one by one, and starting to succeed. 

    "I told you to finish me!" Ranma accused. "I told you! I told
you!" he wailed, all the while ripping the tentacles off Taro's
back in his fury. 

    Taro, of course, did everything he could to stop Ranma, trying
to dislodge his attacker. He flew high in the air, executing rolls
and trying to buck like a bull throwing its rider, to no avail. He
tried to flip on his back, but an outstretched leg and more
strength than a healthy Ranma, nevermind the damaged one here,
should have been able to possess, kept Taro upright.
    On the ground again, Ranma threw the last of the tentacles
away, blood pouring from the wounds on Taro's back. Ranma was
breathing heavily, Taro barely conscious from the pain, before
Ranma noticed that there were other limbs on Taro's back: two
wings, to be precise.
    Two sickening snapping sounds later, and the wings were
rendered inoperable, perhaps permanently so. Ranma looked into
Taro's eyes, hopping off his opponent's back. Determination and
black rage marred Ranma's face.

    "You weren't good enough!" Ranma accused. He wailed, "Why
weren't you good enough?"

    A punch to the head snapped it back like a whip and exposed
more of the chest, which Ranma started to work on. "Why couldn't
you finish it? Why couldn't you finish me? Why couldn't you be
stronger?" Ranma chanted with his blows.

    "It could have been over! It would all have stopped, if only,
if only!"

    Ranma stopped raining fist after fist on Taro's broken body.
Bringing the blood-covered fists to his temple, Ranma screamed out
at Taro, "Why couldn't you have been stronger?" voice hoarse and
raw from desolation and pain.

    "Bastard. Bastards," Ranma panted, arms hanging uselessly at
his sides, now. "All of you, every single goddamn one of you. I
know what to do now. Only one way out, only one way to stop you
from hurting me anymore. So easy, so clear." Ranma spat on the
ground in front of Taro, a mixture of blood and spittle.
"Bastards," he muttered roughly once more. "Soon, you won't hurt me
anymore." Ranma was no longer talking to Taro, or about Taro, not
that the mutilated monster was in any condition to comprehend what
Ranma had just said. 

    Taro was left there, blood pooling slowly around him, not quite
conscious, not quite dead, but with the knowledge that had Ranma
wished to, there would have been nothing to stop Ranma from
finishing him off, least of all Ranma.


Two times seven minus (three plus one)


    Ranma stood at the edge of the cliff; eyes glazed over, he
looked delirious, staring back at Akane-- perfectly normal for
Ranma, these days. "Sometime don't remember who I am anymore. I
wasn't... I can't...," go on, "not any longer...." Ranma's voice
was dull and hollow, it sounded like it did not know what it was
saying anymore.

    Akane opened her mouth, wanting to plead with this shell which
Ranma had become, but before she could utter the words, his eyes
cleared. This too was normal for Ranma these days-- almost like he
was at least two different people, one dead, or nearly so, and the
other too alive, moods changing like quicksilver. The too alive one
was better though, better than the deadness. A hearkening back to
before: when he was healthy and stong, not this underweight and
whip-thin shell. 

    "I don't blame you, none of you. Not really," he said almost
casually, hints of power buried deep within his voice.

    "What do you mean, Ranma?" Akane asked, perplexed and afraid of
what was to come.

    Ranma looked towards the sun as it set upon the edges of the
sea the cliff overlooked. "I don't blame any of you for trying to
find happiness, but you didn't have to try and rip away mine to get
yours." 

    Happy? Was that what they really wanted from Ranma? Could it be
all she had really needed from him? 

   "I could have been so bright! If only you would have let me!"
he pleaded, voice becoming shrill with desire, not giving Akane any
time to respond, barely giving enough time to let her absorb what
he was saying. "If only all of you stopped smothering me, if only,
if only...." Ranma giggled: high, shrill and piercing-- hysterical
laughter. "I found a way out though, the only way left for me."
Still, still, deathly quiet and still. "Goodbye, Akane."

    Goodbye? He couldn't-- could he?

    Ranma spoke once more as he snapped out of his fit. Resigned to
his fate, tired, but still proud, Ranma said, "At least I die
myself. Tell them that, will you? Despite everything, I die
myself." 

    Before Akane could respond, before Akane could move, Ranma
started to tilt backwards, his eyes never leaving Akane's, pinning
her down. Slowly, inexorably, Ranma continued until at last he fell
off the cliff and landed on the rocks below.

 
And because though a story may not be happy, it need not be sad,
and though an ending may not be just it might still be merciful:


    Akane wept, freely and unashamedly. Ranma was dead. His body
was on the rocks even now, bent, broken and bloody. He landed on
his back, and the cliff was very high and the rocks very sharp.
Even now she could see the blood seep out. She left, to spread the
word about the end of Ranma-- his last request.
     After an hour, Ranma opened his eyes and saw that he was
alone. An extreme gamble paid off, he was still alive; sore,
damaged, but alive. He smiled, something which now had a strange,
almost unfamiliar feel to it-- hopefully that would change again.
    One way, he told Akane, only one way out, and there was. The
only way Ranma could leave without them trying to drag him back
would be if he were dead, so that's what he did. Ranma stood up
slowly, looking at the sea, at the endless waves. The tide would be
coming soon-- they would assume it washed his body away. To be
reborn, first you have to die. Obvious, if you thought about it.
    Ranma picked himself up and started to hobble away. The
incoming tides would take care of most of the trail of blood which
was even now lessening as his phenomenal rate of recovery started
to seal the wounds. Ranma did not know what kind of man he would
end up being; he only knew that it would be his own, and while that
answer was indefinite and rife with possibility, it was enough for
now. 




Oh my god! Author Ramblings! When will the hurting stop?:

    I suppose there is yet another possibility to be looked at: the
successful combination of Happousai and Cologne, but I have no
ideas for it. Something to do with control and wildness-- knowing
when to unleash it and when to keep it leashed. Moderation in all
things, including moderation. I have nothing else for it; it is not
within me right now to do that one.
    Perhaps a revision of some of the parts, Antithesis and this
one, for instance; perhaps that spamfic of Thesis and Antithesis
Ranmas meeting, but that would be about it. For me? my efforts? it
is done. Khattam shud. 

(which is not to say that this is the last SoI story-- I have given
one of the choices: that Ranma might find his own form, to another,
if you recall-- merely that I am done with it)
    So, if you want the idea, if you have something you wish to
share for Soul of Ice: Synthesis-- Success, then email me. We can
talk about it. Actually, email me anyway, and give me lots of
useful and beneficial comments, all the while worshipping me as a
god! On your knees now, scum! Ahahahahahaha! (memo to self: write
notes after getting more sleep) ^_^;;




Matthew Lewis is:
	Matt on IRC
	Sojiro_Seta on Kawaiimuck
	maybeso@ican.net
	prone to exaggeration, 150% of the time
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	"Khattam-Shud," he said slowly, "is the Arch-Enemy
of all Stories, even of Language itself. He is the Prince of
Silence and the Foe of Speech. And because everything ends,
because dreams end, stories end, life ends, at the finish
of everything we use his name. 'It's finished,' we tell one
another, 'it's over. Khattam-Shud: The End.'"

	-excerpted from Haroun and the Sea of Stories,
		by Salman Rushdie
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