{YAAAAY! *ahem* Excuse me. But I was afraid that this one was
back-burnered indefinitely, and I'm really glad to see more of it.}

Okay, so it's been a while... But I actually have part 1 of another fic
almost ready for release, so one can hope I'm on a fanfic-writing
upswing... :)

{This one certainly does!}

Ranma Monogatari
a Ranma 1/2 fanfiction
by Bridget E. Wilde

Previous parts available at http://www.psn.net/~wildeman/bridget.htm

C&C welcomed, public or private.

{You ask for it, you get it. All comments strictly my opinion, and
offered in good spirit.}

Part 7

The beetle was new to the world, its glistening black carapace 
still slightly soft and sticky with the residue of its pupal stage ^� 

{Something non-ASCII creeping in there... a comma? emdash?}

but the sun had warmth that would soon take care of that, just as it 
had awakened the beetle from its winter^�s slumber and softened the 

winter's (non-ASCII again)

ground about it just enough that it could burst out of the darkness. 

It barely saw the shadow that loomed over it before it was 
snatched up by fingers that moved faster than the wind,

{It's the Catch-you Tenshin Amaguriken!  :) }

"Gotcha!" a voice said, booming through the beetle^�s senses and 

beetle's {non-ASCII}

"Okay, bug. Pick out which of the chicks is really a deranged, 
vengeful spirit. Ready?"
Suddenly the grip was gone, and the beetle dashed madly in the 
direction it thought might hold the sunlight, until it bumped into a 
shiny black surface much like itself.
"Shampoo, huh?  It figures." The grip was back, lifting the 
beetle high again ^� but this time, the sunlight returned, and with an 

again {non-ASCII} but

insectile sigh of relief it felt the familiar ground of its birth 
beneath its six legs, and then it was free to dash back into the moss, 
blissfully aware of its own life.

{I like the notion of describing this little ritual from the beetle's
point of view.}

(It's just a statue, he reminded himself with annoyance.  Not even a 
real...)

{Elsewhere you use <> thought-quotes...}

	Doomed.  He was doomed to an eternity of calligraphy.

{heheh!  Poor Ranma.  :) }

<I've always known I'd fight to save you,> he thought in the utter 
peace of the movement.  <But I never once thought I'd _write_ to save 
you.> He finished with a precise bow to his "foe," his mind filled 
with an image that blurred between the long-haired Aoi, his own short-
cropped Akane, and the woman somewhere in between, met only in a dream 
of cherry blossoms.  <Only for you...> came a thought like a whisper 
in his mind, so faint that he decided he must not have thought it at 
all. 

{Nice.}

{Something strange here: before this point, paragraphs are indented 6
spaces. After this point, for a while they aren't indented. Is this
intentional? It makes it difficult to discern the paragraphs...}

Not that the messenger would enjoy his visit... Lord Ranma was a 
fine one, genuinely concerned for the well-being of his servants, but 
he was sometimes just a little... Koremitsu apologized inwardly for 
the disrespect... just a little dense.

{"a little"?  The man is a master of discretion and understatement.  :) }

Then there were the times - like this - when Koremitsu thought 
perhaps, just perhaps, his lord had no idea what he was doing. That he 

{suggest} doing; that

truly did not understand how the political reality he ignored was 
manifested in the cold reception of his lady's servants, the uneasy 
silence that surrounded him upon his arrival at her pavilion.

Koremitsu though he heard something like a sob from the garden, 

thought

but when he turned there was nothing to be seen but gently waving 
branches and leaves.  <The house itself weeps for its mistress...> he 
though suddenly, eyes lowering in slight shame.  A necessary 

thought

deception, he reminded himself as he reentered the compound, feet slow 
and measured.

{suggest} compound, his pace slow

{And now we're back to 6-space paragraph indents. I think your word
processor is playing tricks on you.}

	Ranma stepped from the carriage, grateful for the steady earth 
beneath his feet, and straightened his clothing with a tug of 
annoyance. <This place has got to get some decent roads...> he thought 
grumpily, grimacing as each movement awakened bruises acquired on his 
journey.  He could only be grateful that the oxen pulling the cart 
seemed to have only one speed: slow.  He shuddered to think what might 
have happened had they been in second gear.

{heh.  I love the image of an oxcart with a stick-shift.  :) }

	The oxen shifted restlessly.  A mournful breeze swept through the 
darkening bamboo.  Somewhere nearby, crickets heralded the coming 
night.
	Ranma stood.
	After several minutes had passed, Koremitsu cleared his throat 
pointedly.  "We shall be waiting here when you are done, my lord."
	"Uh, yeah."  Ranma straightened his clothes again.  "Thanks."
	The crickets chirped.
	The oxen stomped.
	The servants glared.
	And Ranma stood.

{You just can't take him anywhere.  :) }

	The servants at the door hesitated just long enough that Ranma 
had to stop short while they opened the door before him, their manners 
just insolent enough for Ranma to take offense, but just obsequious 
enough to keep him from calling them on it.

{They're pretty skillful in their own field, aren't they?}

 He glanced over his 
shoulder once, at the sullenly respectful faces of his own entourage, 
and the round, sympathetic expression on Koremitsu's face, before the 

sympathetic expression on Koremitsu's round face, {perhaps? not quite
sure what image you're trying to evoke here...}

gate closed behind him with a fatalistic clunk.

room with a cozy, intimate light.  A light breeze swept in through 
open sliding doors, gently wafting the light draperies in a constant 
dance; outside the doors, a narrow veranda led down to a mossy garden, 
a pond shining blue in the fading light.  
The door slid shut loudly behind him.

{Missed paragraph indent?}

	Ranma seated himself awkwardly near the tray, noting that the 
bottle did indeed hold sake, but that it seemed to be only lukewarm.  
The hair on the back of his head was standing up, and his hand shook 
slightly as he reached out for a rice cake.  Something was just not 
right, and his eyes darted around the room searching for the cause as 
he gnawed at the rice cake, which tasted rather like paper.  He felt 
somehow surrounded, watched, stalked - a movement at the edge of his 
vision startled him, and his mouth dried with a sudden horrible 
realization.
	He was surrounded by cats.

{Eeek!  I can just see this.}

	Painted cats glared at him from the folding screens. Stone 
statues of cats stretched and leaped in the garden.  And worst of all, 
the draperies that floated restlessly about him bore the images of 
dozens of cats, rendered from head to toe in hair-fine embroidery, 
shifting and swirling in a disturbing dance.
	He felt a mad grin rising on his face, and munched more 
determinedly on the rice cake in his hand, fixing his gaze on the 
mercifully unadorned ceiling.  He could handle this.  No sweat.

{Famous last words.  :) }

	The door slid open again, and he swung his head down with what 
would have been a friendly-but-noncommittal smile, had his teeth not 
been clenched shut in a death's-head grin.

{I can see this too.}

	She was really quite good at glomping, even if she wasn't an 
amazon, he noted, trying desperately to think of freezing rain and 
Cologne's face

{snicker!}

 and anything else that might possibly distract him from 
the very warm, very snuggly, and (despite the makeup) very attractive 
woman in his arms.  He was just not ready to deal with this, not in 
his own life and certainly not in somebody else's.

{Oh, nicely turned phrase.}

	"Ah... sorry?" Ranma said quickly, assuming what he hoped looked 
like a relaxed seated position several paces away.  The cat was nosing 
hungrily at the contents of the tray - still far too close; Ranma 

{suggest} much too close; {to avoid the juxtapostion of "far" and
"close", unless this is intentional}

clenched his legs tight against the urge to flee.

	Her voice had barely been above her normal speaking range, but 
the door slid open immediately, one of the purple-clad servants from 
the gate bowing low before them.  "What does my mistress desire?" he 
said in a voice that somehow managed to make it plain that he could 
care less about what anybody else in the room might want.

could not care less {I know the other form is in common usage, but it's
not logical, darn it. :) }

	"I do believe that sake is supposed to be served warm?" she said 
icily.
	Ranma broke in, "But I don't want any..."
	"My humblest apologies, mistress.  I had ensured that it was warm 
when I set out the tray, but perhaps during the long wait..."

{Ooo.  Nicely jabbed, Masamichi.}

	"Water," the lady repeated.  "You really are a bore."
	"Uh... That's me, all right."  Ranma gritted his teeth and looked 
out at the pond.  There were no cats in the pond.

{Nice.}

	The Reikeiden Lady was staring at him as if he had two heads.  He 
would have felt better if she didn't also look like she thought two 
heads just made him more attractive.

{oh, dear.  Poor Ranma.}

	"Uh..." Ranma looked around frantically for an excuse, any excuse 
for his behavior.  There, behind the screen - that incense burner.  He 
had gotten to the point where he really hated incense, more than he 
had ever though he could - but just at this moment, it looked like a 

thought

life preserver.  "Mind if I light this?"
	The lady smiled with even more promise.  "Of course, my lord," 
she purred.

{hmm. This works in Japanese, thanks to their handy affirmative, but not
in English; either she should say "Not at all," or he should say "All
right if I light this?" Or I could stop quibbling and assume it's clear
in context...}

	He hated purring.

{oh, my. I get the feeling of a house of cards constructed of Ranma's
nervous twitches. :) }

	Ranma edged forward and took a cup in his trembling hands.  He 
was about to take his first sip when he noticed that the servant's 
clothing (again, one of the few cat-free things in the room)was

room) was {missing space}
 

	He snapped his eyes open, avoiding the knowing, expectant eyes of 
the lady in favor of the glowing yellow eyes of the cat.  Fear welled 
up within him to fight attraction, and he shook with the force of the 
battle.  He had to escape; one was sure to win soon, and he couldn't 
decide which would be worse, the lady or the cat.

{It's a little tiny tiger!  :) }

	"My lord, do come closer..."  Her voice was seductive, pulling 
him to her like tendrils of smoke.  The cat purred, a death-rattle in 

{suggest} like the tendrils {assuming you're referring to specific
tendrils, the ones from the incense}

Ranma's ears.  He had to escape.
	He had to know.  
	Before he could stop himself, he grabbed up the bucket of water 
and dashed it upon the lady before him.

{Yup, that's Ranma.}

	The drenched cat let out a bloodcurdling wail, a wail like a 
banshee, like a demon out of the darkest hell, and Ranma broke.  He 
was blinded in his terror, his feet carrying him anywhere that was 
away from the cat, anywhere that the cat was not, anywhere at all.
	Which turned out to be into the pond.

{Yup, that's Ranma's curse.  :) }

	The cool water closed over her head for a moment, and she gazed 
up briefly at a moon distorted by the churning waters before her head 
broke the surface, the water washing away her terror.  It took a 
moment to focus her blurry eyes back the way she came, on the room 
full of cats.
	And one human.
	As Ranma watched, the drenched Reikeiden Lady let out a shriek of 
her own, hurling the cat aside with a backhanded slap and clutching at 
her arm, which bled from a quartet of deep scratches.
	<Oops.>

{I guess he's, er, she's a master of understatement too.  :) }

  	This was, Ranma decided, a good time to leave.

{Saotome Secret Technique! :) }

	There was no answer to that, and he stared at her for a long 
moment, his mouth dry.  In that moment he realized that there was no 
trick of the light - the moonlight glistened off her cheeks because 
they were wet, the sheen of too many tears for the tracks to be 
counted. He felt a quick surge of anger - after all, he was doing this 
for her, he certainly hadn't wanted to spend an evening in Cat Hell 
with Shampoo and her codependent Auschwitz cat.

{Nice turn of phrase, if perhaps a bit jarring in its 20th-century-ness.}

 But the anger quickly 
faded under a flush of shame and embarrassment - there, a bit more 
anger because he had done nothing to be ashamed of, really - and from 
Reikeiden's attitude, neither had Lord Ranma - but the embarrassment 
was definitely in charge, and he lowered his eyes, fidgeting with the 
covers.
	"I... I can't tell you." He continued silently, eyes fixed on the 

{"continued" what?  Fidgeting?}

shades of grey at his fingertips, shifting in the moonlight. <Not that 
what attacks you is probably a living woman.  Not that she's doing 
this because of me.  Not even that I'm trying to save you with these 
visits.  You'd never understand.>
	She was silent at his words; he could feel her aura building, see 
it glittering in her eyes when he peeked up cautiously.  Then, with an 
almost audible snap, she wilted into herself, awkwardly rolling over 
to face away from him.
	"You've gotta trust me..." he began, but the stiff cast of her 
back said she wasn't going to listen, even if she couldn't help but 
hear.

{Nice.}

	He was just drifting off into slumber when Aoi's voice came from 
behind him, so quiet he would have thought he imagined it but for the 
shuddering of her lungs against him.
 
	"Your song, O cuckoo,
	Would have me believe you sleep
	In no tree but mine,
	But whose might be the dwelling
	You fail to sleep in tonight?" (KKS 710)

{Ouch. What a complex emotion that expresses and evokes.}
 

	He was still awake, head reeling lightly from something he didn't 
understand one bit, when the spirit arrived that night.

End Part 7

AARGH!  Darn cliffhangers!  I will have my revenge, I swear it.  :)
Yes, I know it's the right place to break between chapters, but... argh.

Well, I hope part 8 comes easily.

The Reikeiden Lady may look like Shampoo, and glomp like Shampoo, but
she sounds more like Kodachi. I can't help thinking that the Lady of the
Evening Faces will be much more easily recognizable when we meet her...

The overall feel of the language is decadence, broken crudely and
abruptly by Ranma's thoughts and actions: an unusually apt case of prose
matching plot and setting, and a pleasure to read. Very nicely done
indeed.

Thanks for writing and sharing!


Vince Seifert    Network Analyst     seifertv@csus.edu
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