Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch.
Dentists.
Ouch.
The usual, plus parts of this are darkdarkdark. YHBW.
Also, remember that Ranma only regains her heroic stature at the end of this chapter, so
anything weird about her is related to that.
C&C, please. Part A is stage setting, and Sayuri.
Disclaimer: The playground is by Rumiko Takahashi, I'm only
swinging on the monkey bars. Remember to leave the grounds
cleaner than you found them and please don't feed the
Trolls.
"A Sto'r Mo Chroi'" ("Darling of my Heart" or "The American
Wake") is still Traditional. "The Whistling Pig" belongs, as
far as I know, to Robert Frezza. I don't know who wrote
"'Tis Mute ...", I lost the book. Whoever it is, they did a
good job. "Bridge Over Troubled Water" is by Simon and
Garfunkle.
Warning: This part is [Dark] and may very well be [Squicky]
as well. Depending on how you look at it, it may also
deserve a [Lemon] or [Lime] tag, too, not to mention [WAFF].
You Have Been Warned.
This story is archived at http://www.kawaiikunee.com/slp/
Release 1.0 (Sept. 20, 1999)
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Ranma and Akane: A Love Story
Chapter 5: Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi
Part A: Hateful Life
------------------------------------------------------------
1. O Fortuna 1. O Fortune
Verse 1
O Fortuna, O Fortune,
velut Luna like the moon
statu variabilis, you are changeable,
semper crescis ever waxing
aut decrescis; and waning;
vita detestabilis hateful life
nunc obdurat first oppresses
et tunc curat and then soothes
ludo mentis aciem, as fancy takes it;
egestatem poverty
potestatem and power
dissolvit ut glaciem. it melts them like ice.
------------------------------------------------------------
A demon was raping her.
For the ... time. Again. What did it matter how many times.
Just again. Only some of the demons who held her captive had
shown an interest, but those who had seemed to find it their
preferred mode of torment.
They had taken away the control of her body, but they had
left her the pain. This one, for instance, was making her
moan and writhe, as though she was secretly enjoying the
abuse. Others had made her plead, or scream, or just cringe.
They had stuck hooks through her wrists, and lashed her with
barbed chains. They had cut her flesh with knives and
branded her with irons. They had shoved a sharpened steel
pole through her anus and out her mouth and roasted her
alive over a flame. They had bound her spirit into her dead
body and carved it for their meat, and she had felt the pain
of every bite and they had told her that it was pleasure,
that she was delicious, that it was an honor to serve.
They had bound hot stones into her knees and elbows and
healed the wounds they made. They had slain her with steel
and with fire and raised her again to life.
They had shown her others in torment. They had laid out
before her all the kingdoms of the world and shown her that
they ruled them all. They had shown her her parents and
friends writhing in the flames, begging her to save them.
They had said that they were mighty. They had said that they
were kings. They had demanded that she yield her soul to
their mastery.
They had made her body agree, but they had made a mistake.
Her body had agreed, had pled, had begged.
But she had not.
They had lied to her body, but her soul was not fooled. And
if they had lied in one thing, then they lied in every
thing.
And so she remained. They could torment her, they could mock
her, but one thing they could not touch. Whatever else they
told her, whatever they showed, whatever they made her body
feel or do, one thing she knew beyond all doubt.
_They lied._
And eventually they must give her a chance. Eventually their
vigilance must slip. Eventually she would get her hands upon
a knife. Or a flame, or a rock, or a chain, or a hook, or a
spoon (They had scooped out her eyes with one, once. Or was
it many times? And did it matter?).
Eventually. And then she would see if they could lie to
themselves as well as they had lied to her. She suspected
that they could not, but she would see, regardless. She had
nothing else to live for, and nothing at all to lose. And in
the end, what could they do? Punish her? Send her, perhaps,
to Hell?
And that was why, as the demon thrust into her, as it's
malformed member tore and ripped and lubricated itself with
blood, as her body was commanded to gasp and moan in
ecstasy, as it plead to be abused further, as it proclaimed
itself a slave, a slut, a whore ... Asano Sayuri was smiling
with her eyes.
------------------------------------------------------------
Verse 2
Sors immanis Fate - monstrous
et inanis, and empty,
rota tu volubilis, you whirling wheel,
status malus, you are malevolent,
vana salus well-being is in vain, and
semper dissolubilis, always fades to nothing,
obumbrata shadowed
et velata and veiled
michi quoque niteris; you plague me too;
nunc per ludum now through the game
dorsum nudum I bring my bare back
fero tui sceleris. to your villainy.
------------------------------------------------------------
On Monday, she worried.
It was inconceivable that she could be ... she wasn't ... she
was just friends ... right? She wasn't ... Kasumi would be ...
she would just frown sadly, and ... and Daddy, he'd ... and
Ranchan ... Ranchan had all those boyfriends ... she'd had sex
before, she said ... Ranchan'd hate her ... it'd be horrible.
And besides, she'd never thought about girls _that_ way
before.
That was on Monday. On Tuesday the gym class did swimming. She
didn't swim well, of course, but she stood on the side and
watched.
And Ranma, of course _did_ go swimming. In a one-piece. That
was quite sufficient, especially with it being wet. She nearly
buckled at the knees. Had she _really_ thought that Ranma was
'not uncomely' just two days before?
Ranma, she discovered, possessed a sharp-edged, visceral
attractiveness that grabbed you by the throat and _squeezed_.
And besides that, she was _damned_ sexy. She wanted to ... was
_this_ what the boys had felt?
She'd always thought that they were just ... unthinking, but
if this was what it was like ....
On Wednesday, she agonized.
What should she do? A relationship with Ranma was impossible,
of course. Even if Ranma was ... that way, she could not be
seen to be in love with another girl. Her reputation would
never stand it. Neither would her own reputation, of course,
but that was a secondary issue. It was Ranma who was
important.
She would simply have to go on, that was all. Deny everything,
herself most of all. It would be a test of discipline, but
there was no other option.
Nor could she simply break off relations. It would raise
questions. Investigations would be launched; her secret would
come out. That would be just as bad, but worse yet, _what
reason could she give_?
Could she lie to Ranma? Tell her that she would no longer be
her friend? No. That would add hypocrisy and dishonor to all
her other sins. No. She would simply have to hide what she
felt. Conceal her attraction. Ranma must never know; _no one_
must ever know. Above all other things this: her current
'attraction' was bad enough. Whatever else she did, she _must
not_ fall in love.
But one thing she could do: she could fight beside her, aid
her, be her friend in all things. It wasn't anything nearly
enough, but it was all she had, so it would have to do.
------------------------------------------------------------
Verse 3
Sors salutis Fate is against me
et virtutis in health
michi nunc contraria and virtue,
est affectus driven on
et defectus and weighted down,
semper in angaria. always enslaved.
Hac in hora So at this hour
sine mora without delay
cordum pulsum tangite; pluck the vibrating strings;
quod per sortem since Fate
sternit fortem, strikes down the strong man,
mecum omnes plangite! everyone weep with me!
------------------------------------------------------------
A demon was torturing her ... no, wait; it was only her
physical therapist.
Sometimes Kuno Kodachi found it difficult to tell the
difference. Still, she persevered. She _would_ return to form.
She would escape the hell of this hospital for the clean air.
Her brother would help, and Ranma- sensei would too; but they
could only _help_. She would have to _do_.
It worried her slightly that the doctors told her that
cosmetic surgery would have to wait. Her body was still
insufficiently healed to safely subject to the stresses of
further injury.
It worried her more that it worried her so little. She had
always been so proud of her looks; what would she look like
now? She had not yet gathered the courage to look in a mirror
to see.
At least Ranma-san had combined with Tofu-sensei to alleviate
the pain of the burns. A procedure that combined some of the
features of acupuncture and moxibustion, she thought, it had
proven most effective.
Still, that did not reduce the time she must spend in this
pestilential "therapy". She preformed the exercise again and
ignored the pain. She was getting out. She was going home. And
what would be, would be.
------------------------------------------------------------
1. Fortune plango vulnera 2. I bemoan the wounds of
Fortune
Verse 1
Fortune plango vulnera I bemoan the wounds of Fortune
stillantibus ocellis, with weeping eyes,
quod sua michi munera for the gifts she made me
subtrahit rebellis. she perversely takes away.
Verum est, quod legitur, It is written in truth,
fronte that she has a
capillata, fine head of hair,
sed plerumque but, when it comes to
sequitur seizing an opportunity,
occasio calvata. she is bald.
------------------------------------------------------------
On Monday, he fretted.
Sayuri-chan's condition was declining, Akane was
insufficiently trained to support him in an intervention, and
he was afraid he was beginning to do something he had
specifically forbidden himself from doing. Or rather, _she_
was beginning to do something _she_ had ... and that was the
problem, of course.
On Tuesday, he agonized.
The gym class had done swim practice that day; and while Akane
had not, for some reason, actually gotten in the pool, she
_had_ put on a swimsuit. That was enough.
He was rarely, if ever aroused by a person's looks, now. An
artifact, he supposed, of what Minnie-May had called his
"versatility"; he tended not to scan people as potential
partners unless he had already unconsciously decided in their
favor. So his sudden arousal meant only one thing; he was in
_deep_ trouble.
On Wednesday, he worried.
He had already resigned himself to nothing more than
friendship, but he suspected that it would be even more
difficult to stay within that category than he had previously
suspected. Just as long as it wasn't love he was probably
safe.
Friendship, even close friendship, he had no fear of.
Comradeship he could handle. She could be as attractive as she
liked without overloading his control. Love would be a
problem. Well, he would simply have to see to it that it did
not go that far.
He had worse problems. Sayuri's condition had not improved. No
medical technique had palliated her decline. Neither rituals
of healing nor exorcisms had made a difference.
He would have to intervene personally. But he had a feeling
about this one; this one was going to be bad. Akane was not
trained well enough to help; taking her along would be far too
dangerous, to her most of all. But a bad intervention might
well lead to his own death.
He feared that Akane was trained too well to escape
extra-natural attention should he fall, but not trained well
enough to defeat it. Nor could Sayuri wait for her further
training; if he were to aid her at all it must be now.
That night he prepared for battle, oiling and maintaining all
his weapons, storing power against future need. Then, after
all was in readiness, he wrote a letter.
Rally Vincent
Gunsmith Cats
Chicago, USA
Dear Rally,
As you can see, the rolling stone has decided to gather a
little moss for a time. I am presently living in Nerima
Ward, and have taken an apartment ....
The reason I'm writing you is that I seem to have gotten
myself into a 'situation' again ....
An old enemy, you wouldn't know him ....
So I feel that I have to go see where Sayuri-san is being
restrained....
The problem is, I have also taken a student. Her name is
Tendo Akane, and she's going to be one of the great ones
if she lives. But she needs more training, and I might
not be able to do it myself. So, what I'm asking is, if I
don't send you a message in a week or so and tell you I'm
fine, I'd like for you to inform the appropriate people
about her ....
Not that I'm planning on dying or anything, but ....
Tell Minnie-May I do _not_!
Love, Ranma.
(p.s. Note that I'm using the feminine here, and tell the
barbarian ekrixiphiliac to use the appropriate gender!
BR)
------------------------------------------------------------
Verse 2
In fortune solio On Fortune's throne
sederam elatus, I used to sit raised up,
prosperitatis vario crowned with prosperity's
flore coronatus; many-colored flowers;
quicquid enim florui though I may have flourished
felix et beatus, happy and blessed,
nunc a summo corrui now I fall from the peak
gloria privatus. deprived of glory.
------------------------------------------------------------
A demon was raping her. Again.
She did not know how long she had been under their torment.
Any estimate she might have made would have been rendered
unreliable by the penchant her captors had evinced for lying
to her senses. How could she construct a reliable estimate of
the time when a moment might seem like an year, or a year like
a moment?
It was sufficient for her to note that the demons had seemed
to be growing increasingly worried. They had not yet been
sufficiently careless as to allow her an opportunity to escape
her bonds yet.
But they would, in time.
And she _had_ time.
All the time in the world.
------------------------------------------------------------
Verse 3
Fortune rota volvitur: The wheel of Fortune turns:
descendo minoratus; I go down, demeaned;
alter in altum tollitur; another is raised up;
nimis exaltatus far too high up
rex sedet in vertice - sits the king at the summit -
caveat ruinam! let him fear ruin!
nam sub axe legimus for under the axis is written
Hecubam reginam. Queen Hecuba.
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Next:
Chapter 5: Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi
Part B: Driven On and Weighted Down
Yours very respectfully,
Eric Hallstrom, CC, PhD, UBIP,etc.
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