Ah my beloved wild horse, the child I never had. I learned from loyal Felix of your pain, and I, your mother, have come to you to give you comfort in this time of pain. Has it been three years since I gave you new life, three years since I gave you my dark gift? Time flies so fast my pet, especially to ones such as we, we who are destined to roam all creation for eternity. Do you remember that night, when I asked you to call me mother? How shocked you were of my boldness, you could not imagine someone asking this of you, you kept insisting that you already had a mother, that she is very much alive and that you would call no one else as such, your face crimped in a fashion I found endearing as you told this to my face as if daring me to force you otherwise. Yet there was no need for force was there? Soon it penetrated to you, the cruelty of my gift. For you, she, your mother still lives but to her the child that she called her son is dead, how I mourn for your suffering!
my little stallion. I remember the nights I spent watching you, reading your dreams, basking in the light of your soul. So much like my beloved Marius yet so different, your difference only making me want you more. Each hurdle you leap made you stronger, each test making you shine brighter. But chaos was the brew that kept your life interesting, was it not?
I often reflect now, surely a sign of old age as you say, that perhaps I had made a mistake in giving you the dark gift? Yet, a part of me rebels from that thought, It screams from my very being that you are much too precious to let death take you, that depriving the world of you would be the unforgivable crime. I could not help but be saddened by your grief my child, my son and my daughter. My beloved child, your pain wounds my heart. That is the reason I come to you now, and I implore you to wait for me, so that we may overcome your sadness together.
Jiro Maeda presents
A Ranma � / Vampire Chronicles fanfic
Immortality
Disclaimer, The characters and situations involving vampires and their like are owned by the infamous Anne Rice and whoever she sold them to. The crazy bunch of martial artists living in Nerima, their quirks and circumstances and events involving them are owned by Rumiko Takahashi. The other characters exist only in the mind of the author and is not intended to resemble any person living, deceased or undead. No amount of money was made in the production of this fanfic.
Act 1b: The Price of a departure
The young vampire slept after the tumulus events that occurred mere hours ago. His mind displayed his memories to him as if his life were a movie reel. His memory went back to that day, not so long ago when he ceased to be human and he remembered^�
^�The pain of the slap as it landed on his cheek, the pain in his heart upon hearing those words, disbelief and then utmost grief that she, of all people wouldn't trust him. The feel of the streets as he ran directionlessly, his mind empty. The heat of the fire and the great rumble of the crash. People screaming, begging to be released from that metal coffin. The exhilaration he felt upon using the Art to help those in need. Shock upon discovering that he left a child inside the bus, The heat almost unbearable now, the pain as his pigtail got snagged by an overhanging part of what once was the bus floor, more pain as the explosion rocketed his body towards who knows where. The feel of blood flowing from numerous wounds he can't identify, the feeling of relief as he discovered the child alive and unharmed. The darkness that nearly claimed him. A shifting feeling, like being carried, surroundings blurry, cold clammy skin, like that of the dead, hard and smooth as if made!
of marble. Confusion, the feel of soft, grassy ground on his skin, getting colder^� darkness growing^� a voice, "Do you want to live, young one? I can grant you life^�" Final thoughts of Akane, thoughts of things he didn't get to do, saying yes in a voice that was barely a whisper. His head being lifted, something pressed to his mouth, "Drink^�" that voice again, anxious, frightened concerned? The feeling of rejuvenation, then pain as he realized his body was dying. "It is only natural young one, be steadfast and strong, this too will pass." The voice again, now warm and caring, dying and living again, opening his eyes to see a world that had changed yet stayed the same. "Welcome, my son. Welcome to eternal night." His sire's voice^� Mater^� Pandora^�
Ranma awoke, his mind replaying the events of last night. His head still swam from the thoughts he had spied from Akane's mind. His heart broke again as he recalled her pain when thinking of him. How badly he had wanted to take her in his arms and whisper sweet things to her, things he never said when he was living. His temper flared as he jealously remembered the young man she had dated that cursed night. How he longed to tear him asunder with his bare fists. He was so confused, these feelings more intense because of what he is, increased a hundredfold from what a mortal usually felt. It stirred in him; coalesced till he drowned in the varying emotions that was the core of his soul. Ranma rose from his casket, a thing made of age-old redwood lovingly inlaid with ivory and gold, his "mother's" gift; his movements graceful seemingly like a dance. "Poor misguided fledgling, your sire should be left burning in the morning sun for what she made you suffer." spoke a voice n!
earby. He turned and saw her; a woman seemingly made of marble, forever encased in eternal youth, her mouth quirked in a half smile yet mirth never reached her eyes. Her brown hair that usually framed her face like that of a nun's hood swayed as the night wind entered through the open windows. "Pray do not be harsh upon my sire, milady. For she only did what any mother would have done." he replied and was gratified upon seeing her features soften, she always loved being called mother. He smiled at her then, glad that she had come, not realizing how much he had missed her until he saw her at that moment. He sketched a bow, "Mother, I greet you this fine night, I beg you, allow me the privilege of brushing your hand with my unworthy lips" he said as he rose from his bow, entirely in ancient Greek, perfect to the very idiom itself. Pandora's smile blossomed at that moment, her maternal pride nearly overpowering all other emotions save for her genuine love for her son. She!
met him halfway and brought her hand forward, he stepped forward, his movements like that of a courtier in a palace ball, now bending down to kiss her cold, hard hand. They embraced afterward, an embrace not of lovers but of a reunited mother and son, tears freely falling as they bathed in the essence of each other. "I have missed you terribly mother^�"he sniffled, holding on to her as if drawing strength from her presence. She, his mother, who had lived this past millennia, stoically soaked up his agony, as if a sponge soaking up water. Her fingers gently brushed his hair, murmuring comfort in his ear. "My son, my poor child." She whispered, tears falling from her cheeks as if the pain in her fledgling was her own. He opened up his mind and his pain began to spill out. Pandora heard it all, his pain, his love for this Akane and most of all his confusion, his emotions spilling out of the sea that was his heart, causing her tears to flow even more steadily, cursing herse!
lf for changing him. "You are suffering my beloved child. This pain, it is worse for you because of who you are, you are in more pain because you are a vampire." They held each other thusly as the early evening turned late until the hour came when it was time to hunt yet again. They talked as they hunted, now mother and daughter for Ranma found it easier to hunt as a female, adopting the guise of helplessness that allowed her to beguile her victims, allowing her to play with them before sucking the blood out of their bodies and then their hearts at her leisure, the way her sire feeds whenever she does. When morning dawned they returned to their paradise within the teeming city and slept in one coffin, a strange Madonna and Child, hiding from the rays of Amon Ra. Gathering their strength for what was to come the following night.
The next evening found Ranma ghosting the roofs of Nerima once again, a shifting shadow within the shadows of the night. He slowed upon reaching the roof of the Tendo home. He slowly crept down the house wall only to stop in front of Akane's window. He looked at her, his heart doing flip-flops in his chest; did he ever find her unattractive? His eyes traced every contour of her body outlined by her sheets. Ever so slowly he opened her window, his mind doing what his body could not, and entered the sanctity of her bedroom. He sat on her bed and feather-touched her hair, caressing the softness that he might never feel again. "I didn't mean to cause you pain Akane. You're the last person I'd want to hurt." He began as he felt the contours of her face, so delicate, so lovely. "I only want to make you happy, I want to protect you and hold you close to me^� I guess I really do love you. It's too late now though, you've moved on for one thing." He said, grimacing as he rememb!
ered the asshole that dared to take out Akane. He decided he would have words with the little prick, particularly about taking care of her and treating her, as she ought to be treated. "For another, I don't think I'm worthy of you anymore, you deserve someone better, more normal, more human, definitely not someone like me." He held her hand and, acting upon impulse, kissed her on the lips, the first time he ever did so willingly. "Goodbye Akane, be happy^�" he got up and left the room through the window, promising himself never to botch up her life with his mess ever again.