Nihao! :) And yeah, I can officially say that, coz HO! I am an Amazon!
Fear me! ...Well, I'm partly Chinese, anyway. <:)
Wanna pick the following bit apart? Have at it! Spelling, grammar,
punctuation, any cliches (asides from the whole thing being one), how you
felt during pieces ("Yeah, riiiiiight...") and why you felt so, suggestions
on better dialogue, blah de blah de blah. Anything. 'Cept maybe flames coz
those don't help me any.
A question I have for anybody: Would you consider this a Dark fic? Coz if
you do, I suppose I'll have to stick the Dark tag up in the subject line in
future pieces. ^_^ Thank you!
Questions I answered from the previous part
(http://members.xoom.com/nibunyuri/OgI1.html --at least, I think that's what
the address is):
1) Why Ranma's so tense about stuff and went to slappin' Akane.
Questions I deliberately left unanswered here (coz I'm gonna answer 'em
later):
1) Who the voice in the cavern is.
2) What Ranma's gonna do about being kicked outta the hospital--but you can
probably figure that out.
3) Why Jusenkyou's dry.
So don't bother askin'. >:}
Nibun
~~~~~*~~~~~
PART TWO: Smile.
Ranma agonized, seconds after his hand had connected with her cheek. He
drew it to his chest like a broken wing, and stared at Akane's face,
flushed pink from the scalding water--and pinker still where he had
struck her. Cringing slightly at his action, he turned away. He did not
lift his eyes to the mirror.
He could feel the heat still clinging to the metal of the hospital sink's
dull steel handle. "What'd I just do?" he whispered to himself. The
words nearly lost themselves in the water, as did murmuring from outside
the room. Even the slight trickle from the faucet seemed to taunt him...
and he nearly ripped the offending thing from the counter.
And it wasn't as if he couldn't. Martial artists were known for being
destructive, and Saotome Ranma was a martial artist. A particularly good
one, at that. Oh, he could very probably have knocked it to pieces if
he'd chosen to--and the thing was steel--but at the moment, his mind was
too preoccupied to send instructions to his fists.
Almost mechanically, Ranma soaked a cloth from the counter beneath the
faucet. (He had to work to shut out an occasional whimper, even with the
water running.)
His hands ached as he wrung out the cloth, not from any physical pain,
but because he was becoming a Ryouga, just like the one he'd left...
laying motionless in a dry Jusenkyou.
Vaguely, Ranma wondered if there wasn't a less rough rag about; it was a
bit scratchy.
He hadn't hit Akane because he'd wanted to--God, no! It was stress, he
told himself, stress that came from 'Dry Jusenkyou Equals No Cure' and,
quite possibly, 'I am Ryouga's Murderer.'
But a pang in his heart cast a shadow of doubt over it all when he looked
into Akane's eyes. He saw fear there and in her trembling lips. Because
he'd hit her.
Ranma drew her in to him and held her, even as she tried to push him
away, despising him. "Get away from me!" Her voice was full of it--of
fear, but what hit him the hardest, perhaps, was the fact that he wanted
it to stop, wanted to take back what he'd done, wanted somehow to forget
his action--and to do that, he thought he would just shut it all up, all
the reminders... Maybe he would do it with a fist.
"Dammit, Akane!" he cursed in a voice full of frustration. Bathing her
skin with a veil of cool water, his hand began to shake, though almost
imperceptibly. (Still, Ranma noticed.) His fiancee seemed to lift her
face at his oath, though, baring her sweet, ivory neck to him... and he
suddenly could feel her warm body close to his...
So very close...
Ranma swallowed, mouth dry, and fixed his attention on the rag.
Hopefully, it would not give him a nosebleed. However, his brain was
overworking itself on a question that probably would probably've
unraveled the universe if he someday chanced upon the answer. Why hadn't
Akane, at the very least, knocked him into the wall? Where was the
dreaded Mallet? "How could you be so stupid?" he asked her.
"Mm?"
Ranma took this as a good sign. If she wasn't paying attention, he
wouldn't end up in pain or in a concussion.
He placed her hands under the faucet and was reminded of the tiny wrists
he held, her slender body as his arms fell on either side of her, a scent
clinging to her skin and wafting from her hair to his nose... It was a
scent he liked, familiar, one the bastard'd probably fell asleep with--
more nights than him, her own fiance!
The jealousy was going to burst out of his head, someday. But then Akane
turned, eyes searching... Ranma thought he might have kissed her, had
the situation been different--would've kissed her long ago, if not for so
many interruptions or the damned tape slipped over his lips.
"Who are you?"
And though the Nerima Ward of Tokyo had accustomed him to many strange
sights and sounds, Ranma was not yet accustomed to this--but yes, it'd
happened before. Even so, he nearly choked on his tongue.
"Th--This is a joke, right?" He glared at Akane. Was this payback for
slapping her? He preferred being kicked through the ceiling; physical
reactions were usually pretty easy to understand ('I hate you, Ranma, you
jerk!'), but mind games were waaaay beyond him. "Well, if it is, it
ain't funny."
She pulled away from him. "I'm not joking! Who are you?!"
And Ranma could see it in her eyes--wild, frenzied--in the way she held
herself around him--stiff, ready to bolt... as if she expected him to
jump at her with bloodthirsty fangs at any second... He saw that, no,
Tendou Akane didn't know who the hell her fiance was.
Nine. One. One.
>From that point on, his body was on Automatic. He only barely recognized
the doctor, Miss 'Is there a problem?' as he tore past her through the
doorway, in search of any one of a certain Chinese tribe called Amazon.
~~~~~*~~~~~
Pain. Perhaps the very worst thing to wake up to. A good thing his back
was numb. Ryouga coughed softly and turned slightly onto his side. He
could feel rock beneath him, but since when had rock become so cold?
Jusenkyou was warmer than this... he'd thought.
When at last he deigned to open his eyes, the situation lightened for him
a bit--but only a bit. At first, he thought Ranma'd gone and blinded him
after he'd lost consciousness, but his vision quickly adjusted to the
darkness, thanks to the moonlight shining through the cavern's mouth.
Still, it didn't answer the question he'd been asking everyday of his
life: 'Where the hell am I now?!' This time, however, there was no
recollection of ever walking beneath the stalactites that lined the
entrance, and that, as he craned his neck back to take them in, perhaps,
was what puzzled him most.
It hurt to breathe, but Hibiki Ryouga could still make out the smell of
water. When he shut out the wind's moans from outside, he could hear a
murmur of a small river, off somewhere, deeper within the cave. Then
there was the strange absence of a moss, and if there was, he didn't
catch its smell.
Rather unsteadily, Ryouga slid to his feet, staggered for a few steps
before he caught his balance. So, Ranma hadn't broken anything. It'd
seemed like Saotome would've done that, though... He hated to think what
the guy would've done had he accidentally killed Akane. He didn't want
to think of what he'd do to himself if he accidentally killed Akane!
He took a look at the cold block of stone he'd been lying on, but... when
he did, it was to find that the block of stone was a block of ice--one
that was perfectly chiseled. Surely, the warmth of his body had been
enough to melt some of the ice, but upon further inspection, the surface
was unmarred! It was glossy enough to reflect the moon to his eyes.
Three-quarters full...
He shrugged to himself and winced as a dull ache began to throb
somewhere. He knew why the block of ice was the way it was: Jusenkyou
was weird and getting weirder. But, hey, it was home to Manhood.
Somewhere within his mind, he kicked an important fact beneath the
carpet. If it hadn't, he would've found another reason to hate Ranma--as
if there weren't enough.
It occurred to him, after several minutes of standing there, staring at
the base of the ice block, that perhaps setting off for Jusenkyou would
be best, considering how long it took for him to get to the bathroom in
his own house. Whenever he could find his house.
Carefully, he stared at his feet and pivoted around toward the light-
when left untended, his feet had the awkward habit of walking off in
thedirection his head didn't want to go. Now, getting from where he
stood to the exit was probably the hardest thing for him to do.
He stepped slowly toward the opening. He could already feel the groaning
wind on him--it only chilled him even more--but it meant he was nearing.
With every inch, he had to pause to make sure the mouth of the cave was
getting closer and not further. It seemed to work in the beginning, but
somehow, he managed to veer off course, back toward the ice block. This
frustrated him, but it did not easily surprise one accustomed to finding
himself lost in a broom closet.
"I know of the fight with the blue-eyed boy, young sir. You actually
should be dead."
The voice floating from the mouth of the cavern, however, did.
~~~~~*~~~~~
For a few minutes, Ranma thought he'd been booted from the hospital and
banned because they thought he'd been a disruption--running around
thebuilding, ducking into all the rooms (once, he thought he saw the
Jusenkyou Guide)--but the reason, ha ha, was that he was allegedly an
abuser of women, of Akane! It was just too funny, that!
However, Ranma wasn't laughing. In fact, he nearly glared death at the
small form that scooted herself up beside an older woman, before he
realized it was a little girl. Then, he was left to glare at the dewy
grass. The girl evidently thought he was funny, though, and began to
giggle.
"Why I funny?" he said sullenly in Mandarin. She looked somewhat
familiar... The girl from the waiting room, maybe? Braided glossy-black
hair, as before.
She smiled and answered. From what Ranma could make out, she was asking
why he was grumpy. To that, he shrugged--his vocabulary wasn't enough to
explain his situation, even if he'd wanted to--and returned to his
thoughts.
Or tried. There was a couple standing only a few meters away, arguing.
Ranma turned a cold stare on them, willing them to feel his eyes on their
backs, to move away. This was a hospital (or the tiny park before the
parking lot, anyway)! Who were they to think they could talk that loud?
He stalked off to a different bench, heedless of the straggly middle-aged
man who scooted to the very end before Ranma sat down. Now, the couple's
voices were just a murmur, blending in with all the background noise of
cars, kids, and adults' discussions. A light smell of sap from the tree
behind him pervaded the area, though this was easily ignored.
Who the hell'd that doctor think she was?! Man, if there were problems
between him and Akane, he'd've been long gone! He sure as heck didn't
want to burden Akane with all the jackasses trailing after him, but that
was the way things were in his life.
And what about Akane? She didn't know who the heck he was, so what did
she know about his 'hitting' her? There was only that one slap... and
this time, there were no tittering Chinese broads leaping out at him from
under the cool white beds, so he thought he could rule out the Amazons'
shampoo formula 911...
The man beside him coughed noisily, a fist to his mouth, and scrunched
down further inside his thin jacket. Ranma put as much space between
them as possible--he wasn't going to catch this guy's cold!
So it had to've been Ryouga. Ranma'd seen cartoons before, where people
got knocked in the head--and they lost their memory, just like Akane!
(It was just a tiny slap... Hot water... just to get her wits back!)
Ryouga, on the other hand, had pretty much knocked her brains out. With
her memory attached.
Ranma sobered. There wasn't much to do about Ryouga, though... He kind
of hoped the guy was all right, and then there was that other side of him
that worried, 'What if he's dead?' Cops'd be all over 'im if Ryouga
was--and if he was, Ranma couldn't beat the stuffing outta him.
He'd already done that, anyway.
Still, there was a more pressing matter at hand. The white-clad doctor
and nurses'd 'politely asked' for him to leave, and then there was also
the implied sentiment of 'Don't come back.' That was easy enough to get
past, though. For a second, Ranma was glad Jusenkyou'd ended up dry,
even after all those onions. Sure, the old ghoul's magic mirror was
handy, but it didn't go easy on the eyeballs.
Passers-by took one look at the figure with the dark aura on the little
green bench, and hurried past. Even the man sharing the bench left,
though perhaps only to run and meet his daughter. It wasn't so much the
coolness emanating from him they could feel brush against their jackets,
it was the sudden smile.
It simply didn't fit.
The young man stood up, and the people gave him an even wider berth,
herding their children to their sides.
Saotome Ranma was looking for a rainstorm.
~~~~~*~~~~~
Nibun Yuri
"Oh, what the fork?" --Blue Raja, Mystery Men.
E-mail: pinku_chan@hotmail.com, and iamacrayon@crayola.org.
ChaChaCha: http://members.xoom.com/nibunyuri/.