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The FFML Refugee List
Hey everyone -
Here we go, Fragments 15 sorry about the delay. I sent it earlier, but
apparently...it never made it to the list. *shrug* Strange stuff, I didn't
get a failed delivery notice...huh, maybe some other poor listbot ml is
trying to figure out what on EARTH i was writing about *lol*
BTW - regarding this section of Fragments - feel free to flame me to your
hearts content, but I will remind you, this A) my personal writing and
opinion, and B) self introspection for a certain character, which always
ends up far more harsh than reality. I more than make up for whatever I say
in this section later on in the story. At any rate, I hope those of you who
may get offended can enjoy this story regardless.
FRAGMENTS 15
^*^*^
Akane stared at the walls of the room, eyes drifting from object to object,
but always with the same question in her mind:
Why white?
Why would a medical facility choose the universe's most blindingly painful,
achingly stark color to paint the walls?
Why not Easter yellow or pale pink or robin's egg blue? They were soothing
hues; colors that made people's heart rates slow down. Or at the very
least, why not pick something *interesting* to put *on* the walls. Maybe
some pretty photographs of places far away from the city and near an ocean,
or even a simple design.
She turned back down to where her fingers were tightly intertwined with
Kasumi's, that one, insignificant touch the only thing that reassured her
that her oldest sister was still alive. Kasumi's face was the color of the
walls, and her hair lacked the shining luster that is usually held, even her
eyes were dim, dirt-colored, staring straight at the ceiling.
Akane winced as she heard Kasumi moan, the low, sad keening of a mother
grieved. 'No one should ever have to lose their children,' she thought
slowly, and brushing a sweaty-strand of hair away from Kasumi's face, she
added, 'especially not if you've never kissed them and told them you loved
them.'
And oddly enough, though Akane would never know, that was what terrified
Kasumi the most - that her baby had never known love. That she and Tofu had
created a child, but that the baby never knew how much Mommy and Daddy had
loved her, never knew how much she would have been cherished.
Nodoka had gone back to the dojo, bubbling with some unnamed emotion,
promising to look after Tofu, in her own words, "making sure he doesn't do
anything that we'll regret letting him do." Soun was sitting in the
conference room of the hospital, his face pale and stricken as he heard the
doctor's words. Nabiki was on her way. She'd promised.
Akane sat there in the glooming whiteness of the hospital room and prayed
for her older sister. Prayed that she'd survive this, as she had survived
everything else that life had so carelessly doled out to her fragile heart.
After all the years of reassuring herself that she was strong, after all the
years of wrapping herself in a thick cloud of carefully constructed blissful
ignorance, the truth of reality and the depth of life had caught up to
Kasumi in the cruelest way.
'It doesn't matter,' Akane thought, 'none of it does, not in the end. You
can't protect something that you can't control.'
And it all came rushing back to her, memory after cruel memory. Berating
and teasing and taunting, telling her over and again what her heart had
denied for so long.
^*^*^
Nerima
13 Years Previous
Akane stared absently into the backyard, wincing slightly as she saw Yuki
stomping her foot in frustration as Ranma yelled:
"You're going to learn it, Yuki! One way or another! You're going to learn
it!"
The anger on Yuki's face disappeared and she released a sigh, replying, "If
there's a way to make me learn it, I'm sure you'll figure it out!"
Of course, Akane knew exactly what he was talking about. For two weeks,
ever since Ranma had returned from his training trip (one that he took,
thankfully, alone - she and Ukyo had followed him all the way until he
actually sat down in the train), he'd been lolling about with Yuki, trying
to teach her advanced technique after advanced technique, growing more and
more frustrated that she just couldn't complete the Hiryu Shoten Ha.
Growling, Akane nearly tore her blouse off, stomping over to her closet and
reaching for a dark jumper to change into. "Stupid Ranma," she muttered
aloud to the empty room, "Bastard, wastes all his time teaching darling
'Yuki' techniques, and never gives a thought to even *sparring* with me."
Releasing a frustrated sigh, she stopped in front of her mirror, a strange
glitter in her eyes. Cupping her hands before her, she concentrated on
them, hoping against hope that her ki would gather.
She'd seen Ranma do it hundreds of times, in and out of battle, sometimes;
he'd do it in school, idly tossing it at different classmates, usually
inciting a scream of surprise or a giggle. Somehow, he knew how to control
the effect of it even when he had left his touch.
More recently, she'd seen Yuki do it, snapping her fingers and creating a
casual, lavender sphere of energy. But when it came to attacks, Yuki was
still lacking, even though she tried, it was a much harder process for her,
she'd spent day after day figuring out how to control her ki enough to
master the Kachu Tenshin Amiguriken. She could attempt a Mouko Takabisha,
but Yuki kept saying that confidence wasn't her fueling power, and that
depression wasn't it, either. And she preferred to take her sweet time and
find the perfect emotion for herself.
But what drove Ranma to the edge of insanity was that she couldn't finish a
Hiryu Shoten Ha. It wasn't that her ki strength wasn't good enough for it,
because he'd seen her do some pretty amazing things with that perfectly
lavender beam of energy before, and it wasn't for lack of trying. But
somehow, halfway through finishing the attack, she'd always pull her fist
back, gasping in sudden pain, and fall to the floor, clutching her fingers
together while rocking back and forth on her knees.
Akane stared for nearly five minutes at her empty, useless hands before
screaming in anger. What was wrong with her? She was a martial artist,
wasn't she? She practiced kata's in the dojo, she could break cement blocks
like an old pro, she used to beat up Kuno, the best in Furinkan, constantly.
'But,' she thought sadly, pulling on the jumper, 'I can't lay a finger on
Yuki, and she has to go all out to lay a finger on Ranma.'
"Akane-chan! Come on! You promised to help me clean out the attic today!
Daddy really wants to find the old family registers!" Kasumi's voice floated
down the attic steps and into Akane's room, somehow, at the perfect pitch
and tone to render any argument of the chore utterly useless.
Akane zipped the jumper up along the side, and running up the steps and
towards the attic, she yelled, "I'm coming, Kasumi-oneechan!"
Saotome Genma and Tendo Soun were packrats at heart, and both of them used
the attic to harbor anything that they a: didn't want their children to see,
or b: couldn't bear to throw away. As it happened, this bad habit proved to
be useful for once. Something about a lawsuit, and how their ancestors were
owed money, but they had to prove they were, indeed, related to them before
they could claim any of the settlement. Both Genma and Soun came from
proud, warrior clans, the settlement most likely applied to both of them,
but to be sure, they still had to find their family registers.
Finally hitting the last step, and raising a cloud of dust with her heavy
foot, Akane coughed, waving her hands before her to clear the air. Her eyes
grew used to the dark in a few seconds, and she gasped as she looked around
the attic.
It was enormous. It was dusty. It was filled from top to bottom with
everything that she'd never thought the Tendo's had owned.
She sighed deeply, and kneeling down in the layer of dust, she began sifting
through an old box when she heard Saotome Genma's exclamation, "Tendo! I
didn't know that Nodoka stored *our* family records here!"
Kasumi answered the question before either of the father's could, "Of
course, Saotome-san, she wanted them to stay safe." They both looked at
each other with an expression of disbelief, Akane knew exactly what they
were thinking: 'Nodoka thought this place was safe?'
Akane walked over to where Genma, her father, and Kasumi all sat, flipping
slowly through the ancient Saotome family register. Genma's face lit up
like Akane had never seen before. She raised her eyebrows, though, in
retrospect, she decided that she should have known that the only thing Genma
(excepting food, of course) held dear in his whole wretched life was family.
"The best thing about this book," he started, "is that our ancestors kept
track of just about everything that happened to our family - births, deaths,
marriages, acquisitions. Just everything." He turned all the way to the
beginning of the book, and pressing his forefinger against the paper, he
exclaimed, "See! Look! One of my great-great-great- um, someone wrote
this! 'Fujiwara Tozikoshi was killed by his fiancee's family, the Yings, a
Chinese clan." For the moment, Genma looked thoughtful, and murmured, "I
remember that story from when I was a young boy - my Grandmother told me
about it one night."
Kasumi smiled and asked, "What was the story, Saotome-san?"
"Well," Genma said dramatically, "It was said that Jin Yin, the youngest,
most beautiful, and more intelligent daughter of the Ying family was
betrothed to Tozikoshi at the age of five. Tozikoshi was raised in China
near his fianc�e, and they grew to love each other." Genma sneered, "A
certain error on the parts of their parents."
Akane frowned. 'Asshole,' she thought, 'Love is a factor, you stupid furry
tub of panda-lard. Why, if Ranma and I could admit to ourselves that we-'
she stopped herself mid-thought and brushed it away. 'No! I do *not* have
feelings for that cross-dressing idiot.'
"Anyhow, according to legend, Jin Yin was taught martial arts by Tozikoshi
her entire life, and one day, they decided to go train at some lake." Genma
shrugged, "She fell into a deep part and drowned. When her family found
out, they blamed Tozikoshi, and drowned him in that same lake." His face
hardened into a frown. "It started a feud between the families." Taking a
breath, he thought back a while before continuing, "Eventually, the
remaining daughter in the Ying family married into another Japanese clan,
the Yamato's - but after that - the Ying's just fell apart at the seams from
all the bloodshed and bankruptcy of keeping a feud alive." Slowly, he
turned the page again, and scanning the names, he stopped on the second one
from the bottom, the characters circled with a faded crimson line. "See,
that's the sign that the family member died in a feud struggle."
Akane heard a squeal in the backyard, and rising from her spot on the dusty
floor, she made her way towards the small, gray-tinged window. Pressing her
hands to the shaded glass, she squinted as she looked down into the
brilliance of the afternoon sunlight - staining everything a painful, stark
white in its glow.
And down below, she saw something that made her ache.
Yuki held an inexplicable magic, something that seemed to make Ranma's
unhappiness disappear, and his slow, dull-witted exterior fall away from his
deep, laughing charm. She could bring out the best in him, and forgive the
worst.
In that streaming sunlight that late afternoon, Akane started to realize
why.
There had been hints, there had been inklings of understanding, and there
had been fevered dreams of red hair and blue eyes, mist-filled places where
the one thing she treasured and didn't dare to love was taken away from her.
For all of that, Akane had never truly seen what Yuki was.
Now, it was clear as the light that filtered through the treetops and
fluttered so gently to the damp skins of the people lying on the grass. It
was an unseasonably warm day, absolutely beautiful.
Yuki was lying on her back, head at Ranma's feet, hands cupped above her,
shooting off little circles of ki, sometimes purple, sometimes blue, but
always beautiful. The sparks of energy rising up into the sky, flashing in
the light, like miniature fireworks. Her bare legs made such startling
contrast with the green of the grass, and her black t-shirt seemed to bring
out the red of her hair.
"What makes clouds?" Ranma asked, a tone of wonderment in his voice, his
hands idly brushing the grass beside him.
Ranma lay flat beside her, head at her ankles, eyes opened wide to the
clouds, a peaceful smile on his face, hands linked together and making a
pillow for his head. There was a certain sense of serenity about him that
Akane had never seen before, a simple, open happiness that she'd never had
the pleasure of experiencing, or for that matter, coercing from his usually
mercurial temperament. His dark pigtail was flailed carelessly to one side,
and his blue eyes shimmered in the light. The wind rustled his clothing,
and his left foot tapped out some soundless beat in the air.
Akane smirked, thinking, 'The weather, stupid. Condensation in the
atmosphere gathers. Gosh, don't you listen *ever* in class?'
Yuki smiled down below, and replied in a soft voice, "Well, according to
textbooks, it's something to do with condensation," she paused, and
giggling, she said, "but what I *really* think is magic."
Ranma laughed, "You think magic makes clouds?"
The grin on his face was as wide as a mile, pure, unadulterated, containing
no malice or sarcasm.
"Why not?" Yuki asked, defensive amusement in her eyes, "You've had no less
than three curses at any given moment in your lifetime, and you've been
constantly attacked by mythical creature after prince after monster - and
you laugh at magic?"
The sun passed over a little, changing the shape of those shadows across
their chests, and making the trees rustle ever so slightly.
"Peace, Yuki," he said slowly, a smirk on his face, "I didn't say I didn't
believe you," he shrugged, "it's just nice to hear someone say something
like that for once."
"Always glad to be of service," she commented.
She smiled without being teased, and gave freely what she had, without
pettiness, and without cruelty. Yuki had unlocked her heart, and given
Ranma the spoils without a second thought.
"This is nice," Ranma whispered, closing his eyes.
Yuki sighed, and rolling from her place on the ground to a standing
position, she started to walk away, a gentle expression in her eyes, and her
hair flying in the breeze.
Without rising from his place on the ground, Ranma said:
"Later, Yuki."
And without turning back, she waved over her shoulder, "Yeah yeah yeah, see
you in detention."
And for some reason, their laughter echoed in the evening.
Akane slowly sunk to her knees, her numbed fingertips drawing a clear, clean
streak against the gray dust of the windowpanes. She couldn't feel her
legs; she honestly swore that she could feel nothing but the hollow ache in
her stomach, and nothing but the burning jealousy in her soul.
But what could she do?
What could she give him? Her heart? Her soul?
She didn't have a heart - no one who had a heart could treat him as she had.
And her soul was black with jealousy and dark with hatred.
She was tainted material.
She had no real claim over him - just a fallible agreement between two
flawed men with warped minds. Just a series of broken promises and crushed
hopes. She had nothing to offer but herself - but would Ranma even accept
her? The engagement was official, but what if the feelings weren't? For a
span of time in their somewhat odd courtship, Akane had been very nearly
certain that he had feelings for her, even if they only bordered on mild
interest, and that had fueled her. That had made her strong. No one could
tie down the wild horse, not Seven Lucky Gods, not incredible feats of magic
and martial arts - if Ranma didn't love her, no engagement would change
that. Not even honor and its implication could make him love her.
She had hurt him so many times that he'd become numb to her anger,
ambivalent to her pain, and more or less frightened by her happiness, seeing
it as merely a prelude to his punishments. There was no penance now that
could right that - not when there was someone else who had never placed
scars across his heart to begin with.
Yuki was everything to him.
She was beautiful and fresh and wild and free. Open and honest, simply,
impossibly, wonderfully beautiful. He delighted in her happiness, and
smiled when she was content because it made him calm. She had reached into
his beautiful blue eyes and brushed the soul beneath. First shy caresses,
and now, she was deeply woven into the fibers of his heart, the very center
of his being. She didn't care if he was stupid or rash - she could forgive
- she could love.
She was his other half.
Akane felt herself slump against the wall, ignored by her father and Mr.
Saotome as they quietly snuck downstairs to avoid the oncoming storm, and
carefully watched by Kasumi.
And while she wanted to cry - she instead felt angry.
'Yuki,' she thought hatefully, 'he's mine, Yuki. You can't have him. I
don't care about whether or not you're happy. He's mine. And I'll make you
see it - one way or another.'
^*^*^
AND NOW! THE SPECIAL PREVIEW ....
=====
Coming soon to Mailing Lists near you ...
[What if something happened that made *none* of the fianc�es want to marry
Ranma any more? ]
She sneered. "He's a renegade, sir. We're entirely different."
[What if he was abandoned, and the home that he'd so desperately needed and
had later grown to love in his youth became too hurtful to think of? ]
She gathered up what remained of her dignity and replied, shaking his hand
firmly, "It's all right, Detective Saotome, there are some rather vicious
rumors about you, and I shouldn't have said that, anyway."
[And then - what if - years later Ranma returned to Tokyo's embrace and fell
deeply into something he could not control? ]
"Eight dead bodies, and not one warm one," she sighed, leaning against the
hood of the car, stretching her arms out into the morning sunlight, and
completely ignoring the expression her partner tossed in her direction.
"This is the type of bitch wrapped up in a conundrum tied in an enigma that
ought to be shot on sight."
[ First Hubris...]
The car hummed softly in the middle of the empty road, void of people on
that early afternoon. As they had left the Special Ops building, Ranma
really hadn't thought that Michi's state would deteriorate any further -
he'd been proven dreadfully wrong. At a stoplight in front of one of the
more recent crimes scenes, the Indigo Caf�, she'd started screaming, banging
her head against the glass of the windows, scratching her own arms until she
bled, all the while crying and yelling about how she'd been a whore.
[... then Tragedy...]
He'd scrolled down through the pages of random words and scribbles until
he'd finally come to one terrifying sentence where Michi seemed to have
abandoned her work.
[I'm waiting for someone who loves me.]
[... then Catharsis.]
"MICHI!" he cried, panic trilling in his voice, looking around him in
terror, he yelled, "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HER YOU PSYCHOPATH!?"
There was a pause of silence, "Nothing she didn't earn for herself, I assure
you."
"WHERE IS SHE?"
"The last place you'd ever think to look."
Stay Tuned! CATHARSIS is coming (as soon as I finish up Fragments...*sigh*)
-linsan
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