Hallstrom Consultants writes:
 > Waiigh.
 > Remember me?
 > No, didn't think so.
 > 
 > The months of February and March have turned out to be entirely more awful
 > than
 > I feel was strictly warrented. Nonetheless. Despite funerals, expenses,
 > disarangment,
 > hard-drive destruction and Mires of Despond, I have persevered.
 > 
 > Sort of.
 > 
 > But not entirely.
 > I haven't been able to take the time to read my mail for the last month.
 > Two weeks of which may or may not be salvagable from a trashed piece-of-@@##$
 > Micropolis HDD I used to have.
 > So, if you've written to me, and I haven't written back, this is why.

One's sorry to hear about all that.  One's been hoping for this
chapter for a wile, and was on the verge of writing you to see if you
were all right if one could find some way to say that without making a 
complete ass of oneself.

 > 
 > This is RAALS part 5A ... 1 of 2.
 > 2 of 2 will take a little longer.
 > Next week I go out of town on Spring Break, like it or not.
 > And I don't.
 

We shall see if this gives me enough free time to finish part 2 of
2, or not.

Yay for a new segment, and take as muh time as you need; this story is 
worth waiting for.

 > In other news, I have revamped my homepage at Mindspring:
 > http://www.mindspring.com/~hallcon/
 > and added a new one at XOOM:
 > http://members.xoom.com/RandA_ALS/
 > You may ask: why?
 > The answer is: MP3s.
 >
 > Yes, folks, now, and possibly for a limited time only, you too can download
 > the _actual music_ that I write this stuff to.:)
 > 
 > See, I _told_ you I was stranger than you thought.
 > 
 > It's all 96 kbps MP3 format, and there are megs of it.
 > I've got 128 kbps format at home, here, but I'm not going to upload.
 > Ask if you want me to mail you a copy, and prepare for a _full_ mailbox.

Unfortunately, Xoom is the wrong place to put mp3s.  Every last one of 
'em has been "302 Moved Temporarily" to a file called "tosviol.mp3",
which one can only guess stands for "terms of service violation".  It
sounds like a sound system test.

One'd volunteer to host these, but one's connectivity isn't the
greatest.


One would love a copy of at least "Summer Lightning" and "After All",
though.

 > 
 > As always, C&C is lived, died, begged, and written for.
 > 

And granted.

 > 
 >    There are certain ways that things are supposed to go. Take, for
 > instance, the case of waking up in someone else's bed. This is _supposed_
 > to involve long drowsy dalliances and breakfast in situ, served by
 > dedicated servants. Or, alternatively, a sense of romantic melodrama may
 > easily be obtained by hasty dressing and tearful, secretive goodbyes.
 > 
 >    When, on the other hand, the other whose bed you are waking up in is 
 > an Other whom no-one, including the other, may be allowed to suspect
 > _is_ the Other then things are supposed to be managed for maximum
 > embarrassment for all involved. (Yes, it _is_ a complex sentence. Read
 > it through a couple times, it means what it says.) Fortunately for
 > Ranma, the sensation of Akane breathing into her ear woke her alone and
 > unobserved. 
 > 
 >    This precipitated what should have been the type of convulsive jerk 
 > that knocks over the bed, wakes the bed-mate, calls the attention of
 > the house, and otherwise results in complete higgelty-piggelty. Alas
 > for the devotees of the Right and Proper Order of Things, however, 
 > Ranma's well-honed reflexes and hard-wired skills were in full working
 > order; and she removed herself from complete (if, sadly, clothed) 
 > entanglement in Akane's embrace to a position standing upright in the
 > middle of the room without much more than a mild heart attack.
 > 
 >    This should not, however, be construed as to mean that the forces
 > of Dramatic Righteousness were entirely cheated of their due. The human
 > body is a complex collection of muscles, bone, nerves, joints, ligaments,
 > and other such items. Ranma's collection chose that moment to send
 > her a wide array of bitterly-complaining messages, relaying their utter
 > dissatisfaction with her current state and accusing her of criminal
 > incompetence at the top. She also noted the pounding pain of a massive
 > migraine headache, foretelling an impressive hang-over.

Has one mentioned before how much one loves these little diversions
into the Way Things Should Be In the Narrative Process?

 >    She woke up. This, she decided, was her first mistake. She was not
 > immediately sure what had awakened her, but she _was_ immediately sure
 > that she wished it hadn't bothered. Her hair hurt. And that was not even
 > considering the mad kamikaze air molecules that were attempting to flay
 > her skin off. Now that she whimpered it, how _had_ those tribes of mad,
 > jack-hammer wielding dwarves gotten inside her skull, anyway? And what
 > had she done to piss them off so badly? Couldn't they have written her a,
 > a letter or something? She'd have apologized, really.

Loved this bit.

 >    Stumbling down the last stair risers and shuffling down the hall, the
 > figure had nearly attained its hoped-for sanctuary when fate cruelly
 > intervened. A firm, decisive footstep was heard, and Tendo Soun rounded
 > the corner of the hall and came face-to-face with his daughter. And, for
 > a brief moment, nothing happened. Then Akane feebly attempted to placate
 > the looming disaster by waving her hands at her father, and whimpering.
 > Alas, in vain; slowly started but rapidly rising then came the vessel of
 > ultimate horror (at least to anyone with a killing hangover), a full,
 > all-out Soun Tendo Wail. (#2516: My daughter went to Hell and lost her eye,
 > now she'll never get a husband and I'll be alone in my old age, aiieeee!)

Poor Soun... entirely understandable, of course; the man has taken a
few too many shocks in the last little bit.

 >    Nabiki, drawn by the *thud* of Akane impacting the floor, managed a gasp
 > before Ranma cut her off. "Nabiki-san, please ask Kasumi-san to get Acchan 
 > a glass of hangover cure, I believe that she knows one or two." Smoothly, 
 > Ranma picked Akane up and took her into the furo. Nabiki gaped briefly at 
 > the closing door before running back to fetch Kasumi.

Why does one's mind boggle slightly at the thought of Kasumi needing a 
hangover cure?  One has sudden visions of her, Belldandy, and Tsunami
going bar-hopping...  *slaps writing hand*

 >    "Ranma-san! I will not permit you to run off without dinner. It is 
 > getting late and you _must_ be tired, you should eat with us and sleep in
 > the guest room tonight."
 > 
 >    Ranma blinked, backing away from Kasumi and frantically waving her hands,
 > "Ahhh ... of course, Kasumi-san, whatever you say. I'll just go into the
 > Dojo and, ahh, maintain my equipment, yes?" Grabbing a confused and yakuta-
 > clad Akane by the shoulder, Ranma hastily retreated from the main house to
 > the Dojo.
 > 
 >    "Geeze! Your sister is _scary_ when she's like that!" 

Heehee!

 >    Ranma withdrew a small tool from jacket-space and placed the blade on the
 > table, beginning to disassemble its hilt. "These are usually tang-marked ...
 > like ... so ...." her voice faded off into a long whistle. Akane drew
 > closer and leaned forward to see, but could not read the strange, curling
 > letters. Ranma held the blade up to the light and read something off the
 > tang in a language that Akane likewise did not know. Indicating this with
 > a slant of her eyebrow, Akane caused Ranma to flush briefly and then 
 > translate aloud into Japanese, "'Forged was I, of iron heaven born. Ulean
 > made me. I am Isileth.'"
 > 
 >    "How, ah... how did you manage to pick this up, anyway, Acchan? I saw
 > you waving it around when you, ah, came to get me, but ..." Ranma slowly 
 > and cooly put the hilt back together.
 > 
 >    Akane stammered something inane about how she had needed a sword and
 > it had just been lying there and she'd just put her hand on it, and...
 > 
 >    Ranma shook her head sadly. "Outnumbered. Injured. Back to the wall. 
 > And you 'just happen' to put your hand onto Isileth Widow-maker. Give it
 > up, girl. You are _so_ doomed." Then, suddenly, she grinned, "But at least
 > being around you won't be _boring_. I hate _boring_," she winked.

This is going to be interesting...  

 >    "Made from 'star-metal' from a fallen meteorite, refolded three hundred
 > times, too tough to bend, too strong to break, an edge that was sharpened 
 > once and hasn't dulled since, quenched in blood, polished by fire and water. 
 > Used by heroes and villains for two thousand years or more. Rumored to be 
 > evil black as the pit of night, rumored to be good bright as the sun itself. 
 > Rumored to be neither one, but nothing more than, simply, a sword. What she
 > was doing on a slope just outside of Hell I've no idea. Here," she handed
 > the sword-hilt to Akane, "do a kata or two and get to know her. Maybe she'll
 > tell you."

"Rumoured to contain the captured soul of Jimmy Hoffa."  But really, a 
sword with a Name could never be simply _anything_.  If nothing else,
it's complex enough to contain the concept of its name.

(See, one's been paying attention.)


 >    From behind her as she danced her kata she heard Ranma begin to sing
 > lowly and distractedly as she worked on the scabbard. And as the song
 > continued, low and dark and couched in some dialect of English that she
 > could barely even determine _was_ English, her defocused Sight began to 
 > gather sounds and images. Images of blood.

Well, those would be the psychic impressions a sword would tend to
pick up...

 >    Right hand highest on the hilt (a voice whispered, "One hand only girl,
 > until you apply force to the cut, keep your other hand free. And put a finger
 > over the hilt, it increases control, and the hilt-loops will guard it."),
 > arm rising for jodan-no-kame morote uchi kiri otashi kudashi, the most
 > basic of strikes, the two-handed vertical downward blow to cleave head and
 > chest together ("the pearsplitter ..." the voice whispered). And her mind 
 > sank into a receptive blankness and she stopped the cut at the level of
 > the lower chest and transmuted its force into a bouncing return to guard,
 > left hand dropping away and right hand blurring in withdrawal to hasso
 > hidari gamae, left foot leading as she cocked the sword by the side of
 > her head in preparation for ...

One's going to have to guess that the voice is the sword
itself... which is kind of cool.  A sword with a built-in instruction
manual...

(And one surmises that in the song, the formatting wrapping is
intentional, yes?)

 > 
 >    ... tall and massive, armored in an alien style in full plate-and-chain
 > like and yet unlike a samurai in its blood-red armor and taiken like her
 > own and she fought with it back and forth across a hearth a field a forest 
 > clearing and she brought the blade around kasumi kiri age, arms crossed
 > right hand sliding out low to join the left hand and come up hard and
 > diagonally to the left across the body, and her opponent opened out along
 > the line of the cut and there was nothing inside but blood and it sprayed
 > out and covered her but there was no smell of blood, no remembered iron
 > tang but only a stale, sweet, sad hint of roses and the blood hanging in 
 > the air turned black and fell like rain, and she met and destroyed another
 > gray warrior and another and another but their blood did not spray out 
 > bright wet scarlet but black and heavy and it fell back upon them and they
 > twisted and where a man had stood a black rose now hung in midair and
 > the air was full, overpowered by the smell and something small and bright
 > and blue fell out of the sky and the gem hung before her, glowing and
 > she swung the sword kiri otashi kudashi again and it flared with blue fire 
 > so intense that it blinded her and the rose was burned away and where 
 > the jewel had been crouched a figure twisted and huddled over, almost 
 > invisible except for the crippled, twisted claw that was its right hand
 > and her hands went back for the stroke but then she brought the blade
 > down and grasped it with both hands and _snapped_ it and it was whole
 > again and the twisted figure faded and she stepped past it and the blade
 > flared brighter and higher and she attacked the alien, horrible form that
 > rose above her, slobbering, and she cut it across and it divided in half
 > and fell away and she dropped the blade, casting it aside and the dust
 > covered it and her eye flared with pain and she fell and twisted as she 
 > rolled in the dust and she grasped the hilt and came upright ...

This is... disturbing.  Though it may, of course, be the answer to the 
provious question of what the sword was doing just outside Hell...

 > 
 >    And these are the sorts of thoughts that have a tendency to cause
 > theoretical

Formatting problem here.

 > thinkers Deep Distress, and, on that count, to be relegated to the far
 > background and never allowed out into the conscious portion of the brain.
 > And this in itself can cause certain problems.
 > 
 >    For instance, when confronted with the aforesaid "Someone first rate
 > in the same field", and the occasion to meditate on silken scarlet hair
 > and sea-deep sapphire eyes, and the opportunity to ask the question "Is
 > there room in 'Ranma and Akane' for 'Akane'? Or, indeed, is there any
 > reason to entertain the concept of 'Ranma and Akane' at all?", then 
 > thoughts like these might cause you to wimp out. And, for another 
 > instance, even if you _are_ the "Someone, etc." and even if you _know_ that
 > there is indeed very good reason to entertain the concept of "Ranma and
 > Akane",

And here.


 > and furthermore what role "Akane" should play in it, it does not necessarily
 > follow that you _also_ know whether there is any reason to consider the
 > concept of "Akane and Ranma". And in this case similar thoughts can not
 > only cause you to wimp out, but also to pay less attention to subtleties
 > of interpersonal conversation than might otherwise be the case.

And all this rings far too true.

 > 
 >    To summarize the summary of the summary: people are a problem.

Aren't they always?

 > 
 >    And this goes a long way towards explaining why, when Ranma said, 
 > "Problems?" Akane did _not_ say, "Yes! I'm tired, I'm sick, I hurt and I'm
 > so confused and overwhelmed that I can't think. I need to bury my face in
 > your hair for several years to clear my head. Make love to me 'til I pass 
 > out!" but rather (in a much smaller voice), "Can't think. Too much."
 > And why Ranma did not, quite, hear what she meant, but only what she said.
 > 
 >    And also why, when Ranma knelt on the bed and drew Akane up into a
 > reverse embrace, so that Akane was sitting in front of Ranma with Ranma's
 > arms folded beneath her breasts and the top of her head beneath Ranma's
 > chin, and said, "Maybe I can teach you a technique to help. Do you 
 > trust me?" Akane just said "Yes," instead of "With my honor, my life and
 > my soul. And, incidentally, if you wanted to move your hands up a bit I'd
 > be perfectly happy to trust you with my body, too." And Ranma, of course,
 > missed that, as well. 
 > 
 >    Even world class martial artists, gifted with the perception to track
 > another person's motives and intentions in the heat of mortal combat
 > have their occasional off days. Which is a shame, it's true. But it just 
 > isn't time for this story to go lemon yet.

Kind of a shame, but it does make sense.

 >    "Okay, Acchan," Ranma murmured, "this is called 'the Rainbow', because 
 > the way you begin requires you to picture one in your mind. What I am 
 > going to ask you to do is to close your eyes, and then to impress upon 
 > yourself a vision of each of the colors of the rainbow, one by one. As 
 > you visualize each color, you will attach to it all of your tensions, 
 > unhappiness or pain and imbalance in a specific area. Then, when you 
 > release the visualization of the color, you will also release all the 
 > negative chi that you have just collected. 

One's done this particular exercise oneself before, and it really does 
work nicely.  Did you have any specific source in mind on this, or...?

 >    Nabiki woke up discontented. She had pinned some hopes on the night
 > before, but her surveillance activities had come up empty. She was _sure_
 > that Ranma and her sister were lovers, but she had not achieved her 
 > lofty reputation as a manipulator of events by acting ahead of _certain_
 > knowledge. The remedy for the lack of which had seemed simple, too; lovers
 > will tend to cling to one another in times of stress, and yesterday's 
 > activities _should_ have provided _plenty_ of stress, which _should_ have
 > expressed themselves nicely last night.
 > 
 >    But except for Ranma doing some sort of meditation thingy to help 
 > Akane sleep, _nothing had happened_. It was annoying, was what it was.

*snicker*  Poor Nabiki.  Of course, for anything to happen, Ranma and
Akane would have to figure out themselves that they're already
lovers.  Marked as that as surely as they're marked as warriors.

 > 
 >    Worse yet, from her viewpoint, she had theorized that they might, 
 > perhaps, simply have been too tired the night before; and had woken up
 > at an entirely-too-early time in the morning to continue her oversight,
 > and not only had Ranma already been up, but Akane had woken early too,
 > and _again_ they hadn't done anything. Not even a kiss!
 > 
 >    Ah well, maybe one of them was more aware than she had thought. She
 > would simply have to get more subtle. It would be a good challenge. Or,
 > she might just strangle the gibbering pair of _early-morning_ songsters.

One of them... more... aware...
*sound of someone falling down laughing*

 >    Soun awoke unsettled. This was hardly unusual, of course. Still, he 
 > thought, this was even worse than normal. For all the griefs he normally 
 > felt, for all the power of the terrors and regrets that he normally 
 > struggled with, they were just that: _normal_, the common structure of 
 > his days. The changes that young Ranma seemed to have brought into his 
 > family and his life might or might not be terrible, but he felt their
 > abnormality keenly nonetheless.
 > 
 >    Yet alongside this additional weight lurked an additional variable,
 > neither necessarily negative nor positive. With change comes the possibility
 > of change for the better. Yet if that possibility is not fulfilled is
 > it not more terrible than if no such possibility had existed? At the
 > bottom of every Pandora's Box lurks shining Hope. And whether that was
 > a good or an evil thing Tendo Soun could not for the life of him decide.

Aye... that particular Trouble might be the crullest of them all.

 >    Kasumi had probably awoken with the same serenity which she always 
 > showed the world. It's always difficult to tell, with Kasumi.

Hmm...

 >    "Be nice, Ranma-kun. So I like moving fast and blowing things up good.
 > Is that any reason for you to be mean to me?" Ranma smirked. "Oh! That
 > reminds me," Gally continued, "Hugo and Ido have joined a motor club at 
 > NIT. Would you come out to the races with us?"

Okay, one gets the feeling that one should know who Gally and Hugo and 
Ido are.  And the NIT motor club?  We're going to be running into some 
goddesses who are also Ranma's dear friends, won't we?

 >    Nabiki tuned the explanation out, thinking furiously. She had gotten
 > several blurred glimpses of the calligraphy as Ranma had gestured with it,
 > and she thought that she had seen that hand before somewhere. Common
 > wisdom argued that any artist's hand is completely unique, and so if
 > she could recognize the style it should be as good as actually seeing 
 > what it said. Then she shook her head; no, it couldn't be. But she 
 > remembered where that hand had leapt out at her before: on a set of 
 > scrolls in a museum.... Which was patently impossible of course, even 
 > for Ranma, but....

Well, considering that she's _been_ through the mirror...  or is this
just the last vestiges of pragmatic disbelief hanging on?

 >    Her attention was distracted by a loud growl next to her. Looking
 > around, she saw that Akane was paper-white and holding her stomach
 > with both hands. "Ranchan ...," she whispered panic-stricken, but Ranma
 > had already unwrapped the burger she had been holding and put into her
 > hand. Akane looked at it in shock for a moment before all but falling on 
 > it slavering.
 > 
 >    Nabiki looked on with concern as her sister ravened her way through
 > her (effectively) fifth full breakfast of the morning. She would have
 > been far more concerned of course, had Ranma herself not so obviously
 > anticipated it, but still ....
 > 
 >    Akane herself was no little concerned. "Ranchan, what's happening to
 > me?"
 > 
 >    "You used up a _whole_ bunch of resources yesterday, Acchan. In fact,
 > I would estimate that you used up about twice what you had available.
 > So you , we, had to borrow some more, so to speak. This is just the 
 > pay-back. Well, and the interest too, of course."

Ah, right... time-shifting resources.  Granny Weatherwax has done a
bit of that, too.  

 > 
 >    "Me and my big ideas," Akane muttered.
 > 
 >    "So you'll stay behind, next time?," Ranma asked hopefully.
 > 
 >    Akane's glare required no translation. "You _did_ say that you
 > _did_ need me along, _right_?" she purred.
 > 
 >    Ranma sweat-dropped and blushed, grinning sicklily, "Errr. Yeah."

Heh.  ('Sicklily'?)

 >    The appearance of a small, long-haired girl in two hospital gowns and a
 > towel 
 > was somewhat unexpected.

Formatting error... and hmm.  Sayuri and Kodachi becoming
friends... and both will, undoubtedly, be working with Ranma...
Hmm. Hmm.

 > 
 >    The school-yard before first bell was a hotbed of rumor and speculation.
 > The only sure information was that Sayuri had come out of her coma at
 > last and that Ranma had had something to do with it. Persistent rumor
 > whispered Akane's name as well; said that she had died curing Sayuri's
 > illness; said that _Ranma_ had died curing Sayuri's illness; said that
 > Ranma and Akane had died _together_, and in each other's arms; said that
 > the "in each other's arms" part was right but that they were still 
 > quite alive, thank you (nudge, nudge, wink, wink, etc.);

Hah!

 denied all of
 > the above for the thought that Sayuri's "illness" had been induced by
 > The Forces Of Darkness, who had finally been defeated by Magical Girl
 > Ranma and her apprentice; 

Ranma:  "I'm Magical Girl Pretty Ranma!"
Akane:  "Miyaaa!"

 >    Nabiki, walking just behind Ranma and Akane, marveled. She had
 > always known that her little sister was good at martial arts, but who
 > would have thought that _this_ was hiding under there, too.
 > 
 >      Well who scattered these diamonds, through the vault of Heaven?
 >      Who drew the curve of the magpie's wing?
 >      Who shaped your face, and what made you love me?
 >      Where is the heart of every living thing?
 > 
 >      Well, I guess I don't know, and I don't care either.
 >      I know you love me, how could it not be?
 >      And I am your's, now and forever,
 >      'Till my lips fall silent, and my eyes can't see.
 > 
 >    Somewhere in the back of her mind words like 'Idol' and 'Agent' were
 > flashing, surrounded by scads of beautiful yen signs, but for the moment
 > even Nabiki was lost in the song.

Heh... that'd be interesting. And, of course, idol singers get
attacked by monsters and such enough that they'd get their training
in, neh?

 >    Ranma ran a possessive hand over her flaming hair and said, "Each to
 > their own." 

This... seems odd.  Or is it simply a reference to the dragon's soup
from earlier?


All in all, very very good.  This is probably the single series that
one's most excited to see in one's mailbox.

-- 
Jeffery "Taper" Wickel                            jtwickel@nyx.net 
------------------------------------------------------------------
As you are, so shall you wish. As you wish, so shall it be.