Hi again, ^_^
Okay, it's been ages since I posted more Hearts of Ice to the
list. And, since my first comment on The Snow Raven included
a "where's the rest of HoI" question, ^_^; I figured, since I've
got about 20 pages worth of story, I might as well post what
I've got rather than wait for my writer's block to crumble. (Which
isn't to say that I don't know what's going to happen next -- only
that it's been really difficult finding the motivation to write it in
the
face of other muses demanding my attention.) ^_^;
Please keep in mind that what follows is really rough, and
the content is subject to change without notice (especially
taking into consideration whatever feedback I might get on this).
Go ahead, be merciless. If it sucks, let me know. ^_^;
Previous chapters can be found on the Hearts of Ice web page at:
http://www.akane.org/heartsofice.html
The characters of the Ranma 1/2 universe are the creation and
possession of the brilliant Rumiko Takahashi.
------------------------------------------------
Hearts of Ice
Part 22: Heaven and Hell, Part Two
by Krista Perry
------------------------------------------------
Though they go mad,
they shall be sane
Though they sink through
the sea, they shall rise again
Though lovers be lost,
love shall not
And death shall have no dominion.
~Dylan Thomas
~*~
Someone new had come. She felt it.
They all felt it. The new one's sudden shining presence
tickled the depths of their consciousness. And so they woke,
stirring once again from the drifting lethargy that made eternity
bearable; a lethargy that was interrupted only by the insatiable,
ravenous desire to feed on the sweet, vibrant life of some poor
fool who stumbled into their midst... or the coming of someone
new.
The new ones were almost as good as the living, after all.
Sometimes better.
She glided forward and the others parted before her,
allowing her to pass without trouble or hindrance, for she was
the strongest, the most powerful. Most of them had tasted her
strength in one way or another, and the memory of it made even
the worst of them keep a respectful distance. She liked that.
She was, if not the oldest, then among the first, for she no
longer remembered her name.
She once had a name, she knew. There were vague memories,
faint and intangible as the black mists that always surrounded
her, of being called something that was meaningful.
And there had been a reason she had come to this mountain,
so many ages ago. A passionate wish, a fervent desire... but it
was gone now, having been lost from her mind long before her name
had been swallowed by the mists; even before the last of her
fallen flesh had finally dissipated into the earth...
It had been a vast relief for her, actually, to have her
remains finally decay down to the bare bone, for the feel of the
slime of her own rotten flesh -- and worse, the constant
wriggling and feeding of the worms within -- had been what had
driven her to the wild, shrieking, clawing madness...
But now she was... past all that. Bone was simple. Clean,
almost. And remarkably resistant to decay, she had come to
discover. After the last of her flesh had finally melted away
into the earth, she had spent a long time staring from empty eye
sockets at her skeletal hands in an almost blissful silence...
Sometimes, when some of the ones who weren't quite so new
went into fits of frantic screaming, she wanted to make them be
quiet by going up to them and saying, See? Just wait a while,
and then you won't have to worry about all that nasty blood and
hair and skin, and the worms will go away when there's nothing
left to devour... But she knew from experience that they
wouldn't understand; that the sight of her brought only greater
distress.
So, rather than try to explain, she just endured the
screaming. And it wasn't so bad. Especially now that she was
past all that herself.
A new one. Fresh, without decay. Without the screaming
madness. Probably the beautiful boy who had escaped them
earlier.
She clacked her teeth together in a sharp snapping motion
that was her way of expressing pleasure, now that she no longer
had lips to smile.
She hoped he had died clean. He would last longer that way.
And she may have forgotten her name, but some desires were never
forgotten.
And if he had died messily, ah well. The messy ones were
usually too distraught to even care about her particular...
welcome...
--------------------
"Ranma!"
Ranma blinked as Akane's voice floated up from the dark
mists that writhed and curled beneath the towering, jagged peak
of the Mountain of the Ancient One. Her voice pulled at him,
filling him with an incredulous joy that pierced him to his
core... and a near wild-eyed panic.
Oh *crap!* How could she be here now? Now, of all times?
Looking over his shoulder, he spared one last glance at his
lifeless body, sprawled in the blood-soaked dirt of the narrow
mountain path, before he turned to look down the mountain.
Then he *moved.*
He moved without thought or reason towards the mists,
running, but not running, for he couldn't feel his feet pound
against the ground, couldn't feel the flow of air against his
skin, because he had none with which to feel...
"Ranma, please answer me!"
She was coming. And he had to stop her, somehow. Even
though he was dead, nothing more than an intangible ghost.
That one thought focused in his mind above all else. He
couldn't let her find his body. Because. Because, if she really
loved him, like she had said so long ago... because if she felt
even an inkling of what he felt for her... because if their
situations were reversed and it was *him* climbing the mountain,
and he stumbled upon *her* body, broken and lifeless on the rocky
path...
He didn't even want to think about it.
She was close now. He could hear her crying. Her faint,
choking sobs filtered up through the mists... and Ranma stumbled
to an abrupt halt. He stopped at the edge of the mists, on a
part of the path that he didn't even recognize, and yet he must
have been there, for his blood was splattered across the ground
in large, dark droplets that had yet to soak into the earth. He
stopped moving and just stood there, unconsciously clutching his
chest with one hand, staring fearfully into the mists because...
Because he was suddenly, desperately afraid to see her.
What was he thinking? He was dead! She probably wouldn't
be able to see him or hear him... and he couldn't even touch
her...
He couldn't stop her. She was going to walk right by him
and never know he was there, and she would find his body...
And he could hear her weeping. The sound tore at his soul
until he couldn't bear it.
"Akane," he cried hoarsely, helplessly. "Don't..."
Don't cry, don't come up here, please don't.
The weeping stopped.
"... Ranma?"
Ranma blinked.
She could hear him?
And then, before his stunned eyes, she emerged from the
mists...
~*~
...and she froze, her wet, glistening eyes widening as she
saw him.
The blood belonged to someone else. He wasn't hurt. He was
safe.
Her hands trembled, fluttered like nervous birds, moving
upwards to cover her mouth. She could taste the salt of her
tears, feel the wet streaks on the skin of her face, on her
fingertips, and suddenly, all she could think about was what a
terrible mess she must look like.
And how beautiful he was.
He... was perfect. Just like she remembered him. So young,
his braided hair dark and tousled, and he was *still* wearing
that red Chinese shirt of his, and she wanted to laugh, but she
didn't because she was afraid that if she did, she would wake
up...
And his eyes. He stood there, staring at her, his mouth
hanging open slightly, and his gaze was so open and intense, she
felt unable to move, unable to speak.
She held her breath as his blue eyes traced slowly over her
face, lingering on the hollow of her cheek, pausing to take in
the thin white line of a scar that hadn't been there five years
earlier. And then, slowly, his gaze went to her hair... her long
hair that fell to her waist, torn free from its usual braid in
the heat of battle, matted with her own blood... And then her
clothes, torn, stained with blood and ichor...
And her heart was beating so swift and loud that she felt
for sure that he must hear it, and she was ecstatic and delirious
with joy, and yet terrified...
Oh... what did he think of her?
~*~
Ranma felt frozen.
Some distant corner of his mind that wasn't completely numb
from shock was aware that his mouth had sagged open in amazement,
and that he hadn't blinked in a long time; that he might never
blink again because he just couldn't stop staring.
*Akane.*
She could see him. Hear him. And she was... was...
He swallowed hard.
*Oh... wow.*
So many questions filled him as he looked at her... and yet,
in that moment, he couldn't find his voice to ask a single one.
Her face. Pale, smudged, bloody and tear-streaked, yet
radiant in the cool starlight.
Her hair. Long, impossibly long, tangled and wild.
Her body, lean and strong... taller somehow... and yet her
tattered, bloodstained clothing couldn't hide the soft, sweet
familiar curve of her shape...
His mouth felt suddenly, impossibly dry.
And her eyes. Dark, wet with tears... full of an unfamiliar
strength... and yet shadowed by a terrible, raw loneliness; a
longing that he felt echoed in his own soul.
The blood spell was broken. But too late. Far too late for
her, for him... for them both, Ranma realized, and his eyes began
to sting.
*Akane... What's happened to you?*
~*~
Ranma was staring at her, his blue eyes almost luminescent
with amazement, and yet he seemed stricken. Akane's breath
caught in her throat as she saw a tear escape the corner of his
eye and slide, unnoticed, down the pale skin of his cheek to
linger, glistening, on the edge of his chin.
He was crying? Ranma never cried, if he could help it --
especially not in front of her. Was she so different? Were the
ravages of her time spent in the Kami realm so apparent in her
countenance?
She didn't want to think about that now.
What mattered was that Ranma was here with her at last. The
passage of time in the Kami realm, each moment there spent
wishing for this one moment here, had taken its toll. Her pride
was extinguished, her inner soul exposed for Ranma to see.
And he was crying. His familiar defenses were down. He
stood before her, more open and vulnerable than she had ever seen
him before. And she was so afraid to see him like this, and yet
so full of the hope and longing of five long years, and all she
wanted in the world was to reach up...
...like she was doing...
...and wipe the wetness from his face, touch his skin, feel
his warmth on her hands, her lips...
~*~
...and he saw her reaching out to touch his face, and he
wanted it more than anything, and he stood there waiting for the
electric feel of her fingertips on his skin...
...when he remembered.
Remembered seeing his hand pass through the lifeless flesh
of his fallen body, and not feeling anything...
Horrified panic flickered in Ranma's eyes.
In a split second, he jerked himself out from Akane's
outstretched hand -- and found himself staring apprehensively
into her disbelieving eyes from a good two meters away.
Akane blinked, stunned.
Her hand slowly fell to her side as her expression crumpled
to one of devastation.
Ranma's eyes widened. "Uh... uh, no," he stuttered, "wait,
Akane!" He waved his hands frantically as he saw her beautiful
eyes go flat; as she closed herself off to him in that old
familiar way, like a door slamming shut in his face. "Wait, it
ain't what you think!"
*Oh yeah. _That's_ the first thing I wanted to say to her,*
he thought bitterly. But he couldn't think of anything *else* to
say, except maybe, Sorry Akane, but you see, I'm dead... and
somehow he got the impression that *that* wouldn't go over well
either.
But, to his surprise, she didn't get angry. Instead, he
watched as the hurt in her expression faded completely until she
seemed simply... resigned.
Which was infinitely worse than her being angry. *Aw,
jeeze...*
She looked at him with those flat eyes that closed off her
soul, and forced a smile. "It's... it's okay, Ranma, I
understand." Her voice was soft and strangely calm.
Ranma twitched guiltily. "Uh... You do?" he asked
uncertainly. Did she know? Had she figured it out?
Akane wiped at her tear-stained face with her fingers in an
attempt to compose herself further. She laughed, but it was a
hollow sound. "Well, I kind of guessed... I mean, I guess it was
silly of me to hope, but..." She took a deep, shaky breath and
looked down at her feet.
*Focus,* she thought as she felt her heart shattering.
*Calm. Be calm, dammit! You knew this might happen! You're
five years older than him now, why would he want anything to do
with an old maid like you? He doesn't even want you _touching_
him!
*Oh, I'm such a fool.*
Before the Kami plane, she would have slapped him. In her
pain and anger at his slight, she would have hit him, maybe even
kicked him right off the mountain.
But that was before.
The thought of him flinching away from her outstretched hand
threatened to crumble her composure. But no, she couldn't let
him see. She loved him. She wanted him to be happy, even if he
didn't share her feelings, and she knew he would feel guilty if
she showed how much it hurt.
But most of all, she didn't want his pity.
Only the long years of training in the Kami realm and her
seemingly endless experience at holding her grief and loneliness
at bay allowed her to find her center of calm, so that she could
even bear to look up again.
Ranma was staring at her pensively. Swallowing the lump in
her throat, she called up the speech she'd prepared so long ago,
just in case, for this very circumstance. It came out sounding
rushed, stiff, and not nearly as sincere as she wanted it to be.
"I... appreciate you saving me, Ranma. And I just want you
to know that I want you to be happy, so whomever you eventually
choose, I'll... support you, but... but I hope that we can be
friends at least..."
Ranma blinked. That wasn't at *all* what he was expecting
her to say. "Huh?"
"Friends," she said again, trying not to get upset even as
she realized that in her flustered haste, she'd forgotten half
her speech. "I want us to be friends."
"Uh... okay." Ranma wondered if it was possible for him to
be more confused. She didn't think they were friends? Then he
blinked as the meaning of her words filtered through his
bafflement. "Hey, wait a minute," he said, a familiar suspicion
forming in his mind. "What do you mean, 'whoever I choose?'"
Akane looked at him, aghast. He wanted her to spell it out?
Wasn't it enough that she was giving him his freedom? She
inhaled shakily. "*You* know," she said with remarkable calm
considering that she wanted to pound him for his insensitivity.
"Choose. Whichever... fiancee." He looked at her blankly. "The
one you want to marry." Her lips thinned as she tried to hold
back the tears that threatened to shatter her composed facade.
"Instead of me."
Incredulous comprehension dawned in Ranma's eyes. "What?
You mean, you thought--?"
And then he stopped as he saw the look on her face. It was
true -- she thought he'd chosen someone else.
What the hell? How on earth could she think such a thing
after everything he'd been through for her?! Argh! The stupid
tomboy! Why did she always think the worst of him?
But then, he realized... how could she know? She hadn't
been there, she hadn't seen everything he'd gone through in her
absence. She didn't know that... he loved her.
He'd never told her, after all.
"Jeeze, Akane," he said at last. His voice was soft, hoarse
and tinged with anger, though the emotion was directed at
himself. "I didn't choose nobody else. Why the hell would I do
something like that?"
She looked at him, surprised. "Because," she said, and as
she spoke, her wounded feelings seeped through her the crumbling
remains of her carefully constructed mask of composure. "You
made it perfectly clear that you don't want anything to do with
an old maid like me!"
"Old maid?" Ranma shook his head in exasperation. Akane
looked anything but old. "*Now* what are you talking about?"
"Look at me, Ranma," she said, gesturing to herself sharply
with both hands. "Can't you see?"
"Well, yeah, you look... uh... different." That was the
wrong thing to say, because she flinched. "No! I mean, you...
I mean, your hair and everything... I guess the Kami Plane made
your hair grow or something?" He wanted to say that she looked
beautiful, wild and exotic, that just the sight of her was
driving him out of his mind with desire, but his courage was
rapidly failing him as he saw her eyes shimmer with tears.
"Uh... is that bad?" he asked lamely.
"Idiot!" Akane shouted. "I'm five years older than you now!
I was in the Kami Plane for five years. Five years!"
Ranma looked at her, stunned. Shocked beyond words.
She stood with her fists clenched at her sides. "I'm older
than you," she whispered hoarsely. "I'm older than all my
friends. I'm even older than Kasumi -- by two years! I spent
the last five years of my life wandering around the Kami Plane
trying to find a way home." And trying to save you, she didn't
say, because she had done so much, suffered so much for his sake,
and now, with her words, she was hurting him far worse than the
Shadowcat ever did. She saw it in his face, his eyes. The
realization, the welling horror, the guilt and misery as he
understood for the first time...
And then she turned away from him abruptly, because she knew
she was going to cry.
Nothing was turning out the way she thought it would be; the
way she *hoped* it would be. And now, she'd gone and done
exactly what she didn't want to do, and that was to make Ranma
feel sorry for her.
"But..." Ranma's voice was quiet with disbelief. "That
can't be..." Five years. There was no way that he could have
allowed Akane to be stranded in the Kami Plane for that long, all
by herself. "You... you were only gone for a month."
Akane sniffed, holding back a sob. "Time moves faster in
the Kami Plane than it does here," she said softly.
Ranma stared at her, as she stood with her back to him. He
opened his mouth to say something, but there were no words, and
even if there were, they would probably come out wrong.
Five years. Not a month, but *five years.* Everything
clicked into place for him as he looked at her. Her hair, her
face... the thin, pale scar on her check that had confused him...
Who had done that to her? How old was that scar? How many more
did she have that he couldn't see?
And those shadows he saw within her eyes; a mingling of
light and darkness, of strength and sorrow that he'd never seen
within her before...
She wasn't the same girl who was torn from his life nearly a
month ago, even more so than he first realized. She was a woman.
An older woman.
Five years. Five years was an eternity. Five years ago, he
had been a twelve year-old boy. Five years was a sizable chunk
of his own lifetime.
Five years. It was incomprehensible to him.
"Akane." He wanted say something, do something, *anything.*
"I... I'm sorry..."
She stiffened.
Ranma winced. Again, somehow, the words were wrong. He
took a deep breath and tried again.
"I... Look, I don't care how old you are, okay? No matter
what age... it doesn't matter to me. You're still Akane." *My*
Akane, he thought, but fear stuck the words in his throat.
Akane shivered. His tone of voice was so gentle, so
sincere, and it lit bright spark of warmth within her heart. She
closed her eyes and felt the tears slide down her cheeks at the
cruel kindness. She wanted to run to him, wrap her arms around
his chest and weep out all her misery...
But she didn't. Because even as she lifted her head and
turned to look at him, she saw how he still held himself
carefully apart from her, as if fearful of any contact.
The spark of warmth dimmed. "It's okay," she said tightly,
"you don't have to lie to make me feel better."
Ranma's eyes widened. "Wha--?" He couldn't believe it.
Here he was, trying so hard, and nothing was coming out right!
Why did she always have to twist his words around to mean
something different? "I'm not lying! It's the truth!"
"Really?" Her voice was sharper than she intended. "Then
why don't you even want to touch me? Am I that abhorrent to
you?"
Ranma trembled in barely suppressed aggravation. Five
years, and she hadn't changed a bit! "No, stupid! I *do* want
to touch you!" Oh man, more than anything...
"Well then why don't you, you jerk?!" She was shouting,
unable to hide the desperation, the desire in her voice.
"I can't!"
"Why not?!"
"Because I'm DEAD!"
The words echoed loudly off the mountainside.
Akane paled.
Ranma's eyes went wide. *Oh man, that was stupid,* he
thought, as he desperately tried to figure out how to retract his
words. "Er... that is... I mean..."
Akane blinked.
Dead?
That word... it didn't apply to this situation at all. It
*couldn't* apply to Ranma. She *knew* what dead was. Her mother
was dead, after all.
Dead was gone. Dead was buried, cremated, ashes scattered
to the winds. Dead was mourning over a cold stone monument in a
cemetery. Dead was grief, fear, anger, loneliness. Dead was
never seeing someone ever again.
Dead *certainly* wasn't talking face to face, having a
heated argument.
Then again, she thought, she'd experienced stranger
things...
Ranma... dead.
Her eyes were dry as she looked at him; as she searched his
face for any sign that he might be attempting some kind of
deception, even though she already knew that Ranma would never
joke about something like this.
And she, just like old times, had deliberately ignored all
the signs of the truth.
Of course he was dead, she realized numbly. He had been
seriously wounded by the Shadowcat, after all. And she
remembered how weak he had sounded when she heard his voice
through the dimensional veil. She remembered the cold grasping
fingers of terrifying premonition that had gripped her by the
throat as she heard the depth of his pain through the layers of
space and time...
And, at the moment, Ranma looked... perfect. Too perfect.
He bore no signs that he had, only minutes before, fought a
desperate battle with the demon that was powerful enough to kill
her tengu sensei. Why, Ranma didn't even look like he had a
scratch on him.
He was looking at her, his blue eyes wide and apprehensive
as he stood, frozen, waiting for her reaction.
And, as she gazed into his face in that single weird moment
of clarity, she saw everything that she had missed in the
blindness of her fears and self-doubts.
She saw Ranma. Ranma, who, in spite of all their arguments,
misunderstandings and misadventures, had been her friend all
along. Ranma, who had wept over a severed lock of her hair when
he thought he might never see her again. Ranma, who *hadn't*
chosen someone else.
Ranma, who had died trying to save her.
Oh, Akane gasped silently. And her heart shivered within
her at the realization.
She stood silently, gazing into Ranma's face, her emotions a
torrent of confusion.
*I should be sad,* she thought. *I should be
grief-stricken. But I'm not. I mean, how can I be upset over
Ranma being dead when he's standing right in front of me? When I
hear it from his own lips?*
Why, the whole situation was just surreal. Almost
ludicrous.
"You're... dead," she said in a small voice.
Ranma was looking at her with barely-veiled apprehension, as
if expecting her to spontaneously combust. Or worse -- cry.
"Uh... yeah," he said. "Kinda."
Akane blinked. "I see," she said slowly. "So... you're
'kinda' dead. Just like you were 'kinda' wounded by the
Shadowcat."
Ranma swallowed. That sounded vaguely like a reproach.
Still, she certainly was taking it a hell of a lot better than he
thought she would. It was freaking him out. His hand slipped
behind his head, and he laughed nervously, not quite sure how to
handle Akane's disturbing calm. "Uh... something like that."
Akane looked down at the ground. The ground that was
stained with his blood. And then she looked at his feet. His
feet, which, now that she looked closely, didn't... quite...
touch the ground.
When she raised her head, her eyes were unreadable; calm and
dark, like the sea before the fury of a morning storm.
Ranma felt a quiet dread fill him. But before he could
utter another word, before he could even blink, she closed the
gap between them in three swift steps, reached up...
...and touched his face.
He froze and gasped in shock as her living hand passed
through him.
He *felt* it. The first real thing he'd felt since he'd
found himself outside of his body. A flickering; a faint bit of
warmth that trembled on his cheek as her fingers passed through
the illusion of his skin.
Akane slowly traced the line of his cheek with her index
finger... and yet she felt nothing. Nothing, except... just a
bit of air that was cooler than the night. And now her eyes grew
wet again, as her expression softened.
"Oh, Ranma," she breathed.
Ranma stared at her. Her voice, the warmth in her eyes, and
the whispering, barely-felt pulse of her living presence against
his face melted away the last traces of his apprehension, filling
him with an unfamiliar thrill that left him tingling.
Slowly, with wide-eyed wonder, he reached out tentatively...
and brushed his ghostly fingers softly against her face.
Akane tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and shivered.
He drew back hastily. "Sorry," he said. "I... sorry..."
"Ranma." Akane opened her eyes and smiled. "Never," she
whispered, "be sorry for wanting to touch me... okay?"
Ranma swallowed hard. "O-okay," he said, his voice cracking
boyishly.
Akane blinked at him in surprise... and then giggled.
"H-hey!" Ranma was suddenly, deeply grateful that he didn't
possess flesh and blood at that moment, because otherwise he knew
his face would be as red as his shirt. He mentally kicked
himself as he realized that he had sounded *way* too eager.
"*You're* the one who said it was okay!"
Akane almost choked on another laugh as it emerged from her
throat. She tried to hold it in, because of the embarrassed
blush she could see spreading across Ranma's face, but that only
made it harder not to laugh. She pursed her lips together
tightly to hold it in, but it was a futile effort, like trying to
stop up a pressure cooker. The laughter was welling up inside
her from a place she'd though long dead, and she couldn't hold it
in any longer.
Akane exploded in uncontrollable giggles.
"What?!" Ranma looked at her, torn between embarrassment
and a blossoming irritation as he wondered what bizarre humor she
could find in such a situation. And yet... to see her laugh...
he found himself smiling in spite of himself. Struggling in vain
to smother the stupid grin he could feel creeping across his
face, he desperately mustered up the remains of his dignity.
"Come on, what's so funny?"
Akane struggled to gain control of herself, wiping the tears
from her eyes with one hand, and smiled up at him. "Nothing,"
she said, still half-giggling. "You. I love you."
Her levity evaporated as the words escaped, and her laughter
died in her throat. It had slipped out; she hadn't meant to say
it right now, like this, under these strange, frightening
circumstances but she had felt it for so long, undenied for five
years, that it had come to her naturally. And Ranma...
He was staring at her, frozen, looking at her with something
akin to disbelief... and fear.
But this time... perhaps for the first time... she
understood what he was afraid of.
Akane looked into his eyes. There was no denying it now.
She didn't want to. Reaching out with one hand, she caressed his
cheek, aching to feel something other than a whisper of chilled
air.
Ranma trembled visibly under her hand, and his eyes grew
wet.
Akane swallowed against the stinging in her throat. Again,
just like the first time she'd told him, he was right before
her... and yet out of reach. "I love you, Ranma."
Ranma closed his eyes. Funny how, even dead, he could feel
the sting of tears. Though the physical world was beyond his
reach, he could feel everything within himself, as if he were
living. The burning ache in his throat, the pounding of his
heart. But it was nothing more than an illusion, he knew.
"Akane... I..." His voice was hoarse, and he clenched his
fists. He wanted to tell her. But how could he, when doing so
might hurt her even more in the long run? It wasn't that he had
given up. But unless he could figure a way out of this mess...
"Akane... I'm *dead.* I wanted to rescue you, but I... I
screwed up... and now I can't even *touch* you..."
Akane's vision blurred and stung, and she could once again
feel the tears on her face. "I don't care," she said stubbornly.
Ranma opened his eyes and stared at her in disbelief.
"What?" he exclaimed. "Akane, that's just..." He caught himself
before he said *stupid.* He sighed and ran his hand through his
hair in a gesture of frustration. "I mean... come on, don't you
think that me being dead just *might* put a damper on any... um,
you know..." He was blushing again. "Long-term... plans and...
stuff?"
"Don't say that!" Akane wanted to reach out and shake him
by his shoulders. "I can see you! I can talk to you! That's
more than I've had in five years, and it has to mean
*something!*"
Ranma didn't know what to say.
"It's just not fair," she whispered, lowering her eyes. "I
refuse to believe that, after all we've been through, it ends
like... "
She trailed off abruptly, her voice dying in her throat.
Ranma blinked as he saw her face slowly drain of color.
"A... Akane?"
"Ranma," she whispered, looking up into his face with wide,
horrified eyes. "You're *bleeding*..."
That was the last thing he was expecting her to say.
"Wha..?" He looked down at himself... and sure enough. A dark
stain was slowly seeping through the front of his shirt.
Reaching down, he pressed his hand to his stomach. His hand came
away wet, sticky, and stained scarlet. He stared at it in
disbelief.
Akane felt her initial horror give way to a dull, familiar
panic. The same kind of panic she had felt so many times in the
Kami Plane, whenever she was confronted with something strange
and supernatural. Ranma's wound had opened up before her very
eyes. He was bleeding, and even as he stood there, stunned at
the sight of his impossible, ghostly blood, her first irrational
thought was that she needed to get him to a doctor. *Help,
someone, my dead fianc� is bleeding!* She shook her head and
forced herself to think rationally. "What's happening?"
"I... I don't know," Ranma said hoarsely. He could feel the
blood now, flowing freely from a wound that shouldn't be there.
He was a ghost! *Ghosts don't bleed... do they?*
And then he gasped as sharp, stabbing pain suddenly lanced
through his middle, and he clutched his stomach, even as a
terrifying feeling of deja vu washed over him.
Akane was instantly by his side, her face pale and fearful.
And through his pain, he could feel the whispering flicker of her
hands through his face, his shoulders, his back as she reached
out, trying desperately to touch him, to help him somehow.
"Ranma! Please, tell me, what's going on!"
He shook his head, trying to focus over the pain. "I don't-
-"
And then he remembered the kuei. The trapped spirits of
those who had died grisly deaths on this mountain, whose only
resemblance to their former humanity was what they retained from
their rotting corpses.
"Oh no," he gasped. The understanding shocked him out of
most of his pain. And then his eyes widened as he realized...
"Akane," he said, "we've got to find my body."
-------
To be continued in 22b. Comments and criticisms are welcome and
appreciated. ^_^