Disclaimer: This story is dark, and I mean dark. It deals
with a serious theme that many of us, including myself,
deal with every day. Also, I don't own these characters,
but they are the best known to you for me to tell this
tale.
Memories and Clarity
I'm looking at Jusenkyo, again, from on top of the
pole. But didn't the pole break when...? No matter. "Are
you ready, boy?" I growl at him.
"Ready when you are, Pops!" He stands in a modified
cat stance, with his wrists together, one hand up and the
other down, both palms facing me. The foot that is
supporting him cups the bamboo pole with his heel, the
other leg raised, foot resting gently against his knee. I
simply took a crane stance, my arms arched, and my free
foot ready to deliver a punishing blow.
With an unspoken signal, we both leap. Blows and
counterblows are delivered, before we set foot again on the
poles. Another pass, and my defenses fail me. I hear the
pole break, and feel myself fall, and I somehow know what
will come next - the itching as fur grows in an instant,
followed by the bloated, distorted feeling that lasts only
half a second, until my mind copes with the new form.
So, now a panda, I reach across the shogi board, and
move a piece. "Masterful move, Saotome!" declares my friend
Tendo. He then ponders the board, considering his next
move.
"Tadaimas!" snarled a young girl's voice. It is
Tendo's youngest daughter, Akane, angry at my son again.
Tendo is distracted at her arrival, so I reach forward, and
switch places of two pieces, a move in the greater game we
play, and enjoy far more.
So, with her return, I wrap Ranma in the fish
sausages, eager to begin his new training. "Papa, it's
stinky!" he proclaims.
"Maybe..." I say. "But it'll make you strong, like
Papa!" I respond.
"Really?" he says, eyes wide. He trusts me, and he
knows I'll make him a man among men. So, he bravely lets me
throw him into the pit.
The cats yowl loudly, and his cries blend in with the
yowling. "Daddy, it hurts!" he screams.
"No pain, no gain, Ranma!" I yell back. I wait, until
the sounds of the yowling dies down, signaling the fact
that the cats have eaten all of the fish. I draw him up,
and he's a quivering, frightened mess. He's also covered in
dozens of deep scratches, and crying in pain and terror.
For half a second, I almost lose myself, and start to
comfort him, but I catch myself. "I see you failed, boy.
You didn't learn the technique!"
He looks up at me, with eyes wide. "Papa, give me
another chance, I swear I'll learn the technique!"
Looking at him, I turn back to Cologne. "Ah yes. That
technique sounds almost as powerful as the Crouch of the
Wild Tiger!" I then try to ignore the foot on top of my
head.
Cologne then has us attack her, to demonstrate the
maneuver, and I give it everything I have. Blows that could
pulverize stone narrowly miss her, guiding her towards my
son's feeble punches. Eventually, the Master is stone cold
asleep, completely drunk.
Tendo and I glance at each other, then throw him in a
trunk, and wrap it with chains. We then race up the
mountainside, toss the trunk in the cave, and detonate the
mouth of the cave. Finally, without exception, the Master
is gone.
We began celebrating, and literally painted the town
red. We wined and dined our wives as if we were still
newlyweds, and danced the night away. I looked Nodoka deep
into the eyes, and we retired to our bedchamber.
As we slept, I kept feeling a nagging sense that we
had forgotten about something. I hear a voice just inside
the room, and it sounds like... like... who is it?
"Mom, I can't stand ta see him like this. I mean, he
doesn't even recognize us."
That voice... no, it's the voice of a man, not a boy.
It can't be him.
"I understand, son. It hurts me too. Even more, look
how it's affecting your wife. It reminds her too much of
her own father, last year."
That was her. Without a doubt, that was Nodoka. But
she sounds tired. Maybe if she'd lie back down, she could
get some rest. I start to move towards her, to tell her to
get some sleep, but I'm feeling sluggish. I open my eyes,
but I don't see her. There's some man there, with black
hair and a red shirt, like how I sometimes imagine my son
would look at my age. Next to her is an old woman, still
handsome, but not my Nodoka.
A young man poked his head in the door. At first, I
thought it was my son, but it couldn't be. The hair was not
quite as dark, and his eyes were brown. "Dad," he said to
the man, "Mom told me to tell you the nurses have told her
visiting hours are over."
The woman turned to the man, probably her son. "Go to
Akane, Son. I'll be out in a minute." The man nodded, and
stepped out of the room.
She looked at me. For half a minute, I thought it was
her... but that's ridiculous. My wife is barely forty, and
this woman was in her seventies. I then saw something I
didn't expect - a lone tear, trickling down her cheek.
"Ma'am," I croak out through a dry throat, "are you
alright?"
She looked at me with a sadly sweet smile. "No, I'm
fine."
"You... you look so much like..." I pause. I look deep
in her eyes, and almost, for a moment, remember. "Like my
beloved Nodoka." Tired, I rest my head back on the pillow.
Blast, how did I get so weak?
Probably thinking me asleep, the old woman mutters my
name. She then turns, and leaves the room, a silk wrapped
bundle on her back.
A bundle?
DAMMIT! Why does this have to happen now? After
they've left?
Clarity. Sweet, blessed, cursed, bitter clarity.
I realize what's been happening to me, the blend of
memory and reality. I realize how I could not tell the
difference, and how that was, indeed, my wife, son... and
grandson.
Even worse, I realized all the self-deceptions I had
practiced throughout my life. All the abominations I
performed, all the excuses and rationalizations I made, and
all the thefts and burglaries, both during and after
training with the Master. I fully understood it ALL.
This clarity was terrifying. Because it could only
mean one thing. I closed my eyes, and waited, saying the
only thing I could, until my breath was gone.
"Ranma... Nodoka... Tendo... everyone... I'm...
so... rry... "
Clarity. Goddamned clarity.
Author's Notes:
Yes, the issue raised is that of Alzheimers.
I may have misspelled that. Also, what I describe may not be what the
syndrome _really_ is, but that's how it seems. It's almost as if my
Grandfather is, as was Billy Pilgrim, "unstuck in time". Please don't
correct any medical information, because this is a story. And as
medically incorrect as it may be, I would like to think I capture the
confusion, and trauma of this condition.
=====
- Valandar the Red of the Empty Tankard
Captain of the Guard of the Barony of the Far Woods
Empire of the Iron Mountains
and Ruler of the Spammish Main
http://Valandar.tripod.com/Hello.html
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