Greetings,
I have been informed that I made a mistake in trying to attach my story to my
email. It seems the list strips attachments. I should have noted this but some
information from the faq dribbled out from what passes for my brain and onto
the floor.
In response to this error I let out a hearty OOOPS!!
and shall try again in more conventional methods.
(Read: Good ol' Mr. Copy And Paste.)
Again C+C is welcome(Demanded..please?)
I remain, as always,
Mad-Hamlet
Ranma Fanficion by Mad-Hamlet
Legal Stuff: This is a work of fiction, all characters are owned by..well if
you don’t know then you shouldn’t be reading this. God who reads this part
anyway? No I’m not making any money off of this.
So no one in legal circles SHOULD care. (Hey what are those drooling lawyers
doing here?)
You know who owns these characters, I know who owns them and we all thank
you-know-who every damn day for making them. Now don’t sue me.
Beyond Boundaries
Nerima. On a dark night, in a dark hospital room there lay the shell of a
beautiful young girl.
She lay on her back. The covers had been kicked off during her drug induced
‘sleep’ but she was awake now. Protected from the sterile air by only her
hospital robe she stared at the ceiling, but seeing nothing.
One arm was flung over her head the other lay at her side. Her eyes, wide and
staring, were part of what could have been an attractive face were it not for
the fact that her expression was one of endless grief. Her short black hair
completed the piece of work that showed the world what she was. A person in
pain. A person who had lost something and could never have back. Had the
lights been on, the harsh white glare of neon would have shown any passing
observer minor burns and bruises all over her arms and legs. And in the
darkness Akane Saotome cried…and remembered.
It just wasn’t fair! They had been married. Finally after so long. Ranma’s
shell had broken after a fierce battle in which again Akane had found herself
in harm’s way. Strangely enough the opponent had not been against a martial
artist but an illness. Akane had become deathly ill and had nearly died.
During the entire time Ranma had remained at her side willing her back. When
she did recover the first thing he did was demand the marriage, of course she
had agreed. The passion of Ranma’s plea would have made the cold stones of
mountains weep. The ceremonies had been small, beautiful and above all, quiet.
Some persuasion had to be used on Genma, the cut and thrust of debate and
conversation (using the medium of violence.) that Ranma had proven to be quite
eloquent in. Eventually all parties had seen the young couples point of view.
Afterwards they had gone away on their honeymoon. Nabiki had surprised them
all with a wedding gift vacation to a small island where she promised they
would have sun, sand, and privacy. It had been a wonderful two weeks. Alone
together they had talked, loved, and even fought. But they had made up
afterwards. Remembering how they had made up caused Akane to weep fresh tears,
which she considered surprising. She thought she had run out.
Of course their time away had ended and they had boarded the plane home. The
flight had been uneventful. She had slept most of the way nestled against the
strong chest of her husband. When she woke up the plane had begun its decent.
“Wake up.”
“Mmm…don’ wanna go to school…”
“Wake up kawaikune…”
Ranma’s soft voice pulled her from sleep. She stretched her neck a few times
to ease a cramp and smiled at him.
“You say the nicest things. Landing already? Too bad I was having the most
wonderful dream.” She purred.
He raised an eyebrow with a small smile. “Really? Well tonight you can tell
me all about it.”
“Pervert.”
“Tomboy.”
She had started to laugh at the affectionate tone, still amused at the irony
that their oldest verbal barbs now were words of affection. Her laugh died in
her throat as she felt him stiffen. The tension swept over her in a wave. She
looked at him. He was sitting perfectly straight, his eyes wide, staring at
the seat in front of him. The muscles on his arms were bulging.
Fear lanced through her. “What’s wrong?” she demanded.
In one fluid motion he had snapped the seatbelt holding him down than with no
hesitation ripped away the armrest between their seats and pulled her into his
lap. She would have thought this some game. An innuendo of some sort but his
eyes were fierce and…final. With one hand holding her in legs up he used the
other to brush her cheek. He looked at her face with such intensity.
“I love you Akane.”
She was about to respond when the first scream of metal was heard.
Some amateur movies showed what happened to the plane. Funny how those were
always around at the worst times. The planes front landing gear failed and
buckled. The nose of the plane dug into the runway still going at full speed.
Then it stopped. The kinetic energy split the neck of aircraft flipping it
over the halted cockpit crushing it. The fuselage impacted with the earth and
exploded. A burning ball of steel and fury slid across the pavement finally
coming to rest. The silver gleaming aircraft, in less than ten seconds became
a crematorium. There would be no survivors, or so every witness thought. The
amateur cameraman caught the final moments of the wreck. From the side of the
dead vessel part of the metal skin was blown away by a beam of energy and
through the hole flew two figures surrounded by a mysterious blue light. One
cradling the other in its arms. It landed on the ground and sped from the
fires. The cameraman had zoomed in on the couple. The figure standing lay the
other on the ground gently and kissed it. Then collapsed. By the time the
paramedics and other emergency services arrived a very conscious young woman
was cradling the fallen figure screaming. It had taken seven men to pull her
away and four of them were badly injured.
When the paramedics went to examine the man they could tell at a glance he
was dead. Two pieces of metal penetrated his chest from behind, one piercing
his heart. By all rights he should have been killed instantly. But he hadn’t.
When word got around of that, plus the footage of the ‘impossible rescue’ the
media had converged on the hospital where the only survivor was being treated.
They demanded to interview her, citing such hypocritical garbage along the
lines of “the people have a right to know.”
The presence of a large, angry, panda, caused them to see the errors of their
ways with only minimal casualties.
Her family had been there to comfort her. She had been hysterical of course
and they had just held her, comforting, soothing, crying along with her. A
vain effort to show so much love and caring that might fill the hole inside.
But they had eventually left. Kasumi and Nabiki had insisted on staying. They
were probably asleep on sofas right outside. Ready to barge in case she needed
someone, anyone. Of course who she needed was gone. Gone..gone…gone far away.
Beyond all reach.
But she would be fine! Right? She was Akane Saotome after all, wife of the
great martial artist Ranma Saotome, heir to the Anything Goes School of
Martial Arts, wasn’t she?
“No.” she whispered into the darkness. “I am Akane Saotome, widow of the late
Ranma Saotome. Married for two weeks.” And with that her grief began anew.
Great wrenching sobs torn from her breast echoed off the sterile walls. She
desperately tried to muffle them, the last thing she wanted now was anyone.
She wanted to be alone, she was alone and always would be. No, right now she
did not want to be alone, she wanted time to get used to being alone. She
curled up into a fetal position and cried.
Ranma..oh how she wanted to be with Ranma. She couldn’t live without him. She
wouldn’t..no..she..oh Kami-Sama it hurt so much! She clenched her fists and
could feel her nails biting into her flesh. She couldn’t live without him!
She wouldn’t live without him.
She couldn’t…live..without him..
She couldn’t…live…
Couldn’t live…
Couldn’t…
Couldn’t…
Didn’t…
She stopped crying..why? What was..? A warm glowing feeling started inside
her. She could feel it. It began over her heart and slowly spread over her
body and everywhere it went it brought relief. The ragged holes inside knitted
together and closed, the grief was routed and all was calm. She smiled with
joy. Her whole being was alive again. Her skin rippled with life and warmth. A
sense of peace pervaded every fiber of her through the farthest reaches of her
soul.
“You know I went to a lot of trouble saving you.”
He was sitting in a chair on the far side of the room. His head cupped in his
hands.
“Yes, I’m sorry but I just couldn’t..” she gestured around the room. She sat
up. She was dressed in her favorite sundress, yellow, with white flowers. He
was in his black pants with permanent red Chinese shirt.
“It’s alright.” He said as he took her hand, “I doubt I could have lived
without you too.”
“So now what?” she asked.
“Dunno. There’s still a lot to see and do. ‘Sides even over here I’ll bet a
couple of martial artists could be useful.” He pulled her into his arms and
they kissed. It was as good and sweet as all the others.
She hesitated, “What about..” he shushed her with another kiss.
“I won’t lie,” he sighed, “I’ll be very hard but I think they’ll be ok. I’ll
see what I can do though.”
He moved over to the bed. After a second he returned to her side. He brushed
his fingers over her cheek. “You are,” he murmured, “so very beautiful.”
He grabbed her hand, “It’s time to go.”
She looked at his face and saw the love in his eyes, she knew he saw the same
in hers. She nodded.
“How?”
He smirked, “How else?”
With that he gathered her into arms and together they jumped out the window.
“Ranma! Look out for that…”
SPLOOSH
“What?? Even over here?”
Onna-Ranma gave a nervous laugh.
On a dark night, in a dark hospital room, lay the shell of a young girl. She
lay on her side, her feet curled up, knees tucked under her chin. Had the
lights been on, the harsh neon glare would have shown any casual observer the
small half smile on her face. She appeared to be sleeping a deep and restful
sleep. Her family would be coming to see her in the morning but she would have
left by then. But they would understand. They would see what she had left
behind for them. In one hand, the two tucked underneath her head like a
pillow, she held a single lily. The edges tinted purple.
Authors notes: I wrote this after having a nightmare about just such a thing
happening to me and the woman in my life. Only without the martial arts or chi
stuff. I’ve read a lot of the ‘motianal’ fics out there. Some are very good
but they left something out, seemed to be lacking something. Not being the
author of those particular fics I have no idea of the motives behind them.
The motives for me are about love. Love is the closest thing I have to
religion. It is, or it is not. And if it, you are very lucky. Funny, everyone
thinks I’m a cynic. If only they knew.
SO! I could have a lot more to say but I’d rather answer anyone comments
personally not have to try and ‘cover-the-bases’ as it were. That might
detract from the story. This is my second fanfic. The first having not been
posted. I’m looking for a way around that.
If you have anything to say feel free to tell me. (Flames not included.) I can
be reached at
HYPERLINK mailto:Mad-Hamlet@usa.net Mad-Hamlet@usa.net
C+C would be most helpful.
Now I’d like to thank some people who have been lucky enough to never have met
me but made my life a little better.
Darrien Demaine- Wrote Ranma 1/5 and Ranma 1/100. Damn funny
Sommer- Wrote Shampoo ½. Best damn epic I’ve EVER seen. (I’ll get you for
Epilogue 1 Sommer. It tore my goddamn heart out. Poor Akane.)
Note: I’ve been trying to email Sommer but both his email addresses given in
his story no longer work, if anyone has got it, could you let me know?
Lord Archive- Is writing, Second Chances, The Insanity Continues,
Rejected(VERY disturbing) and other great stuff. Write more Lord
Archive..more..must…..have……more!
Krista Perry- Is writing Hearts of Ice. Uh…wow. If you don’t know this fanfic,
why are you here?
Paladin- Wrote Lemon Punch and side stories. LEMON WITH A PLOT!! Who would
have thunk it?
Caroline AKA Kuanchi- Wrote(Is writing) Nibun No Ichi. (said in very bad Homer
Simpson imitation) Mmmmm..Nibun No Ichi….ggaaaahhhhh. What can I say I loved
it.
Last and very much not least ..
Mike L. – Wrote “Did She Jump, Or Was She Pushed.” This little ditty is my all
time favorite one shot.
Daisuke is the main character and the plot is TWWWWIIIISSSTTTEEEDD. We’re
talking Hercule Poiriot class mystery IMO.
Until next time..
I remain, as always,
Mad-Hamlet
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