Due to formatting problems, you might like the copy that's archived at my website.
It's definitely easier on the eyes.
http://www.gendou.net/fanfiction/
[Ranma] - losers.com, Part 3 - [Different][Alternate][Language]
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losers.com
Chapter III
FFML Draft (public) v0.1
A Ranma 1/2 Fan-Fiction
-= By Gendou Knepper =-
Previous chapters of this work can be found at:
http://www.gendou.net/fanfiction/
Ranma 1/2 characters & situations created and copyright by:
Rumiko Takahashi/Shogakukan/Kitty/Fuji/Viz/etc.
Other copyrights are owned by the respective copyright owners.
All copywritten material is used without permission.
All other material is (c)2000 Gendou Knepper
This story is a Fan-Fiction, and as such, is written for entertainment purposes
only. So don't sue me. I don't have any money anyway.
Please be advised that this story contains language and violence that may be
unsuitable for younger audiences.
This story takes place in an alternate dimension, so characters may act out of
character.
Characterizations, characters and situations are used from both the manga and
the anime.
The writer subscribes to an eclectic mix of American and Commonwealth English.
Any and all spelling and grammatical errors are his own.
The writer would like to thank his pre-readers, Chris Bookless, Justin Tarlton
and Brock Pierce, for their help and support. Thanks guys.
Praise, comments, creative criticism and questions may be sent to:
gendou_knepper@hotmail.com
Flames, insults and general stupidity will be ignored.
Comments, MST and criticism are always welcomed by the author.
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=======================================================================
Tuesday Evening
=======================================================================
The girl fled down the darkening street. She felt as though her very
heart would break within her. She had been so sure. So sure!
Everything had been so wonderful yesterday, even after the rough start at
Ukyou's resturant. He had been so sweet, so attentive. It had been everything
she had hoped for and more. He was the perfect man to help her forget.
But not now.
Now, he had rejected her, had turned back to the woman who disdained and
despised him. She stopped under a flickering streetlight, the pool of
shimmering light cascading over her tear-streaked features. Her sunglasses
dangled limply in one hand.
"Why?" she sobbed softly. Reaching up, she removed the bandanna she had
used to disguise herself back at the resturant. Carefully dabbing at her tears,
she sniffled quietly, thinking back on the time they had spent together the
previous day.
=======================================================================
Monday Afternoon
=======================================================================
Carefully, she unfolded the umbrella with one hand, not removing her other
hand from his arm. Her hand still held the small boquet of yellow roses.
Gently, she raised it to deflect the drizzle that was still coming down.
"Thanks," he murmured. Taking his own umbrella in his free hand, he
seemed to slide it into his pants pocket. Of course, she knew it wouldn't fit
there. Still, that's what he did. Taking his hand from his pocket, he smiled
shyly.
"Well, where shall we go now?" he asked, taking her umbrella from her and
holding it over both of them. They started down the street away from the
resturant.
She paused, tapping her chin gently with her free hand, looking off into
the hazy grey sky.
"I don't know," she finally admitted.
They walked together in companionable silence for a few minutes.
Suddenly, she gestured toward the Chinese resturant they were approaching.
"Are you in the mood for ramen?" Her smile was teasing.
The boy made a sour face. She giggled, her fingers demurely covering her
lips. He glanced over at her, his look of distaste wavering into amusement. He
started to chuckle softly. Soon, they were both laughing outright as they
walked, arm in arm, down the street.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
They had settled on a little kissaten just down the road from the
financial district. It was dark, dank, a little musty, and very, very cozy.
The sat down across from each other, the large cups of coffee nestled warmly
between their hands.
"So," he began intelligently, watching her face of a clue as to what he
should do.
"So," she responded, a smile crinkling the corners of her violet eyes. He
looked panicked for a moment.
"This is nice," he noted, looking around nervously. She nodded as she
quietly sipped from her mug, still keeping her eyes on him.
He looked back at her for a moment, then jerked his eyes back to examining
their surroundings. She watched his eyes the whole time. From the way they
focused, she could tell he couldn't see a thing.
"Thank you," she finally said. The boy stopped his nervous fidgeting and
turned his gaze to her. His blue eyes were wide behind the thick lenses of his
glasses.
"For what?" His voice evinced actual confusion.
"For what you did back at Kuonji's resturant. Thank you."
The boy shrugged uncomfortably. "You're my friend. You don't deserve to
be treated like that." He lifted the cup of coffee to his lips, savoring its
bitter warmth.
She looked at him levelly, her violet eyes boring into him. "Even
considering what I did at Ranma's wedding?"
The boy blinked once, than slammed his coffee cup down, startling this
girl and the people at the table nearby. He glared past her for a moment, then
focused his eyes on her.
"You know, I'm sick and tired of people complaining about what _you_ did
to disrupt that wedding. It's as if you were the only one who did anything
wrong!"
His eyes flashed angrily. "You weren't the only one who was there to break
up the ceremony. Ukyou is being a hypocrite if she pretends she wasn't there
throwing her little bombs. Your own brother was there, waving his sword like a
madman. And Shampoo! My darling Shampoo was there, wrecking the place with as
much abandon as anyone!"
He took a deep breath, calming himself. "And after the Nannichuan water
was revealed? I was as much to blame for what happened as anyone. The entire
event was a circus." He snorted. "So don't blame yourself for what happened,
and certainly don't let anyone else blame you." He rubbed the back of his left
hand with the fingers of his right, looking past her in an irritated fashion.
The girl blinked a couple times, obviously surprised by his outburst.
"Ano . . . I . . . well, " she stammered, finding herself at a loss for
words, something that had not happened in quite some time.
The boy sighed, resting his chin on his right hand. His long black hair
brushed the edge of the table. He sighed, exhaling so that his breath blew his
bangs out of his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. He still wasn't looking at her. The fingers on
his right hand flicked his glasses further up on his nose. His left hand lay on
the table between them, picking idly at a paper napkin. He paused for a few
seconds before continuing.
"It's something that's bugged me for a long time. There were a lot of
people to be blamed for that disaster." He smirked. "That includes the bride
and groom." His irritated expression faded into a bitter smile. "Especially
the groom." He coughed quietly, but it came out sounding like a choked sob.
The girl stared at him in amazement. She reached her right hand across
the table, resting her fingers gently on his left hand.
"You've really thought about this, haven't you?" she whispered softly. He
turned his gaze back to her, his eyes magnified behind the thick lenses of his
glasses. He swallowed audibly, tears filling his blue eyes.
"I've been a fool," he muttered, letting his gaze drop. A single tear
traced its way down his cheek. The girl wanted desperately to brush it away, to
tell him that everything would be okay.
"I convinced myself, for the longest time, that she loved me." He took a
shaky breath, obviously embarassed about his emotionalism, but too far into his
grief to care much. The girl was confused for a moment before she realized that
the subject had changed suddenly.
"The wedding is what convinced me that she really did love him," he
whispered, "and convinced me that she would never love me." He looked down at
the table, his eyes boring into its surface.
The girl gasped. The boy before her had been the staunchest and most
loyal man she had ever known. No matter what had happened, he had always
remained convinced that he and his beloved would eventually be together. She
couldn't reconcile what she knew about him with the broken and bitter figure
before her. She tightened her gentle grip on his hand. Conciously or
unconciously, he squeezed back.
"It's okay," she murmured, trying her best to comfort him. She sensed in
him a kindred soul, one who could relate to the agony she went through day after
day because of her unrequited love. "It'll be okay," she continued. "I know it
will be. It was after the wedding that I knew I needed to find help."
The boy gulped, then looked up at her. An amused look crossed his face.
"Are you saying I need a psychiatric evaluation?" The crooked smile on his face
was slightly less bitter than before.
The girl stared at him for a moment. Was he making fun of her? Was he
serious? Her eyes widened slightly as she realized he was joking.
"Honestly!" she snapped, dropping his hand. He chuckled quietly. Her
outraged expression softened slightly as she heard him. At least he was feeling
better. 'Men,' she thought, 'Never try to tell them anything. See if I talk
to him now!' She silently resolved not to open up to him like that again.
"I'm sorry," he said, still smiling. He reached across the table and
tried to take her hand. She resisted for all half a second before letting him.
"Please, continue." His voice was softly insistent. She felt her resolve melt.
"I want to," she pleaded, "I do, but . . . ," she paused, gazing into his
eyes. He adjusted his glasses, then looked at her. His smile faded, leaving a
steely seriousness etched in his handsome features.
"I apologize," he said quietly, "I should not have said what I said. It
was insensitive of me." He bowed slightly, as well as he could do sitting in
the small chair. "Please forgive me." His voice was humble, yet still held
hidden strength. She longed to draw on that strength.
"I was just saying that the wedding held a lot of changes for all of us,"
she continued softly. He held his bow for a second longer, then raised his head
to look at her. From the look in his eyes, she knew she had his complete and
undivided attention. The feelings that stirred in her were comforting, but
unfamiliar.
"A few days after the wedding, Ranma confronted me about what had
happened," her voice quavered softly, "and he told me that he never wanted to
see me again." A soft sob caught in her throat as she remembered the look on his
face. Anger. Disappointment. But no forgiveness. Not for the crazy girl who
had spoiled his wedding. She choked slightly, then continued. "I was crushed.
I went to my greenhouse and cried. I didn't come out for almost two days. When
I did, I told Sasuke to find the number for the doctor that the school counselor
had recommended." She drew in a shuddering breath. "I'd never been to one of
them before. A shrink, I mean. It wasn't fun."
The boy gazed into her eyes sympathetically. She wondered if he could
truly understand what she had gone through. She wondered if it mattered if he
could or not. She continued, her voice low.
"He made me face things about myself that I hadn't wanted to face, things
I thought didn't matter. He made me realize that Ranma didn't love me, would
never love me, and that-" she broke off suddenly, lowering her face into her
arms and sobbing.
She felt the boy slide out of his chair across from her. He was no doubt
embarassed by her public loss of control. He was leaving. He was-
She felt his arm slide around her shoulder, pulling her head down onto his
shoulder. He was crouched next to her chair now, softly whispering words of
comfort in her ear. His long hair tickled her cheek as he crouched there in the
dark corner of the kissaten, shushing her gently as he held her in his strong
arms. They sat like that for what seemed like an eternity.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
When she finally sat up, she had wanted to leave, but he had asked her to
stay. And she had. They talked for a long time, sitting there in the shadowing
corner of the coffeehouse.
They had discussed many things, from the death of her mother when she was
young to his dealing with his handicap in a society that despised weakness.
It had been enlightening. She had never known she could open up to
another person like that. Not even her psychiatrist knew some of the things she
shared with the boy.
When they had finally parted, she felt like she was leaving a part of her
soul behind. She had felt many things on many levels while they were together.
But the feeling that she felt most of all was safety. Protection. Warmth. Not
since the death of her mother had she felt any of those things from another
human being. Those were the very things she had sought from Ranma, the very
things he had denied her. And yet here they were, right there, in the boy she
had never looked twice at.
She knew she never wanted to give up that wonderful feeling of saftey. So
she resolved that whatever it took, she would free the boy from the wicked girl
who held his heart. Then he would be free, free to be hers, and they would
live-
=======================================================================
Tuesday Evening
=======================================================================
'-happily ever after?" she whispered sadly. 'It doesn't happen in real
life, little girl,' she told herself. 'Only in dreams. Only in your twisted
little fantasies.' She sagged against the streetlight.
'You made up these castles for the two of you to live in,' she thought,
'but he doesn't love you. You're his friend, not his lover. His love is
reserved for that purple-haired harridan.' She sniffled loudly, not caring if
anyone heard her. Brushing her tears away angrily, she glanced at her watch.
She'd been standing here for almost ten minutes.
Turning away from the streetlight, she started to walk toward 'Ucchan's'
where waited a friend in need. As she stepped from the cirlce of light, she
felt a hand fall softly on her shoulder, intruding on her thoughts. She gasped
and drew back, turning to face the intruder.
It was him.
He gazed at her, his beautiful eyes filled with sorrow.
"I'm sorry," he whispered softly. "I shouldn't have let you go." Looking
down the street behind him, she could barely make out the figures of their two
companions. She looked back up into his face.
"Why did you come?" she asked. She had to know why.
He looked confused for a moment before he answered. "Because you're my
friend. The resturant can wait. You can't." His voice was low and earnest.
"Oh," she murmured, watching his eyes. "I thought you made your choice."
She stepped back from him, still watching his eyes.
The boy's face hardened slightly.
"You're my friend," he repeated, a little sullenly.
It wasn't the answer she wanted, but it would do.
For now.
Gently taking his hand, she turned back down the street. They had
somewhere they needed to be right now.
They could worry about tomorrow . . . tomorrow.
=======================================================================
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Authors Notes:
Well, this is a short chapter, but I needed to wrap up some loose threads
before next chapter.
I'm experimenting with different prose formats. Let me know if you like
this one. It's styled after a classical Japanese prosaic structure, or at least
as close as I could get in English.
Maybe I'll do the next one in script format . . .
Just kidding! Just kidding!
Ok, a lot more emotion in this one. I felt I needed to explain why
Kodachi reacted the way she did to Mousse's refusal to accompany her to
'Ucchan's' . . . maybe I'll explain why he did refuse. Or maybe not. It seems
pretty clear to me why. Now what needs to be cleared up is what changed his
mind. :-)
This one seems odd to me. I guess it's the lack of chat logs. Hope no-
one minds.
Much thanks to Brock Pierce, one of my pre-readers. He put words in my
mouth that sound a lot better than the ones I had before.
Well, comments and criticisms are always welcome. Let me know!