[FFML] [FanFic] [Ranma 1/2] Descent Chapter One

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12:33 AM est

Sic pereant omnes inimici tui, Domine

Thus perish all your enemies O Lord

Thunstone and Pursuivent

Silver Swords against the Darkness

-- Attached file included as plaintext by Listar --
-- File: Descent FFML.txt

Descent

A Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction

Jeremy Harper

One: Bargain

"I know what you want," the old man claimed.

Ranma eyed the shabby derelict standing slumped near the alleyway doubtfully. He was a filthy old beggar, wrapped tightly in ancient, fetid trench coat, even though it was mid-summer and the sun burned proud and uncontested in a cloudless sky. A tattered hat covered his head, its broad, frayed brim slouched so to cover his face. All Ranma could see of his countenance was a narrow, tapering chin and thin white lips, little more than knife-slashes delineating his mouth. His hands were thrust in his coat pockets, and he wore no shoes, having but dirty rags bound around his feet.

Ranma couldn't help but snort derisively. He hiked his backpack up higher on his shoulders and proceeded to continue down the busy Ginza sidewalk. "Sorry old man," he called over his shoulder, not sparring the vagrant a second glance, "but I seriously doubt you'll EVER have something I would want."

"She had hair like midnight," the old man rasped with deceptive softness, yet Ranma heard him clearly over the bustle. "And large brown eyes, so warm and so deep you could have lost yourself in them forever if you had just let yourself." Ranma stopped, frozen in mid-tread, eyes widening, his countenance paling beneath well-tanned skin. "You found her to be a paradox, for she was both as soft as fine silk yet as strong and proud as Masamune steel; One moment fierce, the next gentle. She could be at times shortsighted, selfish and willful, and during others wonderfully caring and giving, and marvelously insightful. She fascinated you like no other ever did. To you, boy, she was like a beautiful, bejeweled puzzle, for every time you thought you knew her she would show a new facet of herself for you to learn of with wonder. Yet despite how you felt for her, the joy you took in her presence, you concealed your feelings, masking it behind a wall of indifference and denial..." The old man paused, turning his head slightly towards Ranma. "So how did it feel, boy? How did it feel when she died in your arms... died before you could tell her you loved her?"

Ranma screamed, a primal roar of anger, a lionish rage. Passersby jumped away from him, frighten and startled, then quickly walked off with increased alacrity. The net of numb paralysis the old man's words had woven over him charred away from the heat of his anger. He turned on his heel. "WHO ARE YOU?" he demanded.
But the old man was gone. Ranma just caught of glimpse of the tails of his trench coat before they disappeared down an alley. Ranma growled out a vile swear and ran after him, not care who he pushed aside or knocked off. He turned onto the dark and dirty alleyway and chased after the old man who he knew nothing of but knew far too much of him.

The alley was long and led into a shadowy back lot, cut off from light and sound by the buildings that towered around it. On the far side opposite to Ranma was a high wire mesh fence, blocking off the only other alleyway into the lot. A rusty basketball post leaned drunkenly at his left, rusted and dilapidated, its backboard and rim long since fallen and carried off. A cold wind blew in from behind him, stirring torn and discarded newspapers and scattering pebbles and dirt. Ranma's keen eyes raked through the gloom, searching every corner of the lot, but found no sign of the old man. He considered the far fence, ten feet high, rust-spotted and ugly, with parts of its meshing pulled apart and dangling. The old man must have climbed or vaulted the fence. An absurd conjecture, from some viewpoints, but he knew of at least two elders who could perform such a feat with trivial ease. And it was the only explanation, for there were no side alleys, and no way he could have double back without Ranma running into him. Ranma spat, his anger still hot, and he sprinted into the lot, intending on jumping the fence and running down that old man even if it took him all day.

At the lot's center Ranma felt a sharp prickle creep up his neck, an overwhelming sense of danger and dread washing over him, and he could feel unfriendly eyes boring into his back. He spun fully around, shucking off his backpack, on guard and ready.

And there before him stood the old man, shoulders slumped and hat slouched, but five feet away. Despite his discipline Ranma hissed in surprise, and he had to expend an effort to keep from gaping. It had been as if the old man had step out of thin air.

"You come when you are called," the old man commented. His knife-slash lips writhed momentarily in a grotesque approximation of a smile. "That is good. It is a valuable trait. Now we can talk, unseen in this shadow," he made an encompassing gesture indicating the lot. "Away from uncomprehending eavesdroppers and the ubiquitous, revealing Light."

Ranma swallowed hard. His stomach felt hollow and his heart was beating at a rapid clip as strange apprehension manifested within him. He suddenly felt cold, as if wrapped in a shroud of wet morning mist.

Ranma swallowed again and glared at this strange old vagrant. "Who are you?" he demanded angrily. "Who are you, how do you know... what you know, and what do you want?"

"I am Gaunt," said the old man pleasantly. "We have been watching you, my masters and I, from the Dark corners of the earth." Ranma's left hand, held up in guard, clenched tightly shut. "We have observed you and your... adventures... with some interest, and we believe that you could be of value, and thus what I want of you is to offer you a bargain."

Ranma arched an eyebrow. "A bargain?" he echoed, suspiciously. Gaunt nodded, shifting forward slightly. A sudden wind came to life, blowing hard out of the alleyway, whipping through the lot, snatching at their clothes. The tails of Gaunt's coat crackled and snapped like a flag.

"I know what you want," Gaunt whispered, barely audible over the wind's passing. "I know WHO you want, and I can give her to you." Ranma winced sharply, as if struck. He dropped his guard and spun around, walking five steps away before stopping, his head bowed and his hands clenched so hard their tanned knuckles were stark white.

"There's no way," he muttered through grinding teeth. "There's no way you could ever give her to me. She's dead. She died on the slopes of Junsendo, because I wasn't good enough..." He whirled on Gaunt, face flushed and ablaze with wrath. "You're playing a dangerous joke, old man."

"Death is not the end, and I never joke." Gaunt replied calmly. "Let me prove the veracity of my claim, before you rush to judgment." He pulled his right hand, gloved by strips of filthy, tattered cloth, out of his coat pocket and held it outstretched to Ranma. On his palm lay a round jewel, perfectly oval in shape, smooth and un-faceted, the size of a child's fist. It was pure snow white in color, and seemed to glow with a gentle, diffused light.

"Touch it, and know the truth," commanded Gaunt. Ranma looked at the gem sidelong, his attitude dubious. Gaunt's lips twisted into a mocking sneer. "Are you afraid, boy?"

Ranma scowled, his eyes flashing hot. "To hell with you," he snapped. He slapped his left hand down onto the gem, as if to snatch it away, and at that moment he froze, his body stiffening, his eyes bulging as if ergs of power shocked through him. A loud gasp rushed through his clenched mouth and he arched backwards as impressions and emotions crashed over him in a rapid storm. They came almost simultaneously; this quick moving multitude of feelings overwhelmed Ranma like a high tide crumbling a sandcastle. He reeled backwards and fell, lying flat on his back on the dirty pavement, swallowing huge gulps of air as his mind and senses struggled gainfully to discern order and meaning out of the chaos clamoring within him. He fell still, his strained face relaxing. His eyes slowly filled with a light of comprehension and wonder.

The first thing Ranma noted was that the cloak of coldness no longer shrouded him. He felt warm, comfortably warm, as if he was in the middle of a grassy field on a pleasant late spring day. His nose twitched as it noticed a faint scent. Honey and peaches, he realized swiftly. Ranma then thought he heard a giggle, soft and feminine. He shook his head, closing his eyes. He thought he could see a face in front of him; A face with large brown eyes, warm and remarkably expressive. A face haloed by short blue-black hair, with a slightly upturned nose and full pouting lips curled in a gentle smile that made his heart race. Impossibly he felt slender arms encircle him gently. Their touch was wonderfully soft, yet he could feel a great strength within them, like steel cores swathed in silk. He felt a warm breath on his ear, as a dulcet voice murmured endearingly to him.

"Ranma..."

Ranma bolted upright into a sitting position, covering his face with his hands. His shoulders quaked and his breath came as a rhythm of ragged sobs. "Akane..." he whispered. Moments passed, his breathing becoming calm. He hands pulled away slightly from his face, balling into fists. He pushed himself up to his feet violently, drunkenly, his expression terrible to behold.

"It's a trick!" Ranma declared accusingly. Gaunt but chuckled.

"It is no trick," he replied. Ranma glared angrily at the old man, but his wrath did not endure. It guttered and died. His shoulders slumped and he looked down at the pavement, turning his head away.

"It is no trick," he agreed, reluctantly. Suddenly he snapped his gaze back to Gaunt, a desperate longing rising within him. "What is that jewel?"

Gaunt held forth the white gemstone again. It glow was brighter than before, illuminating the miserable back lot, painting it in splendor. Yet despite the light it cast shadows seemed to cling to the man holding it. "This gem is the soul of your fianc�e Akane Tendo, crystallized into a material form." Ranma's gaze locked instantly onto the stone. Gaunt curled his filthy fingers around it protectively. "Listen to my words, Ranma Saotome. You shall not hear anything more important to you for the rest of your life, so hark to my bargain with all your attention. What I want from you is your fealty: swear eternal homage to the powers that I serve and in exchange I shall give to you Akane's soul. Serve them loyally, unwavering and without question, and in time they shall fashion for you a body of flesh and blood to house her soul. You will have her back, alive and whole, for eternity and beyond."

Ranma did not answer immediately. His gaze remained locked on the beautiful white gem. He licked his lips and swallowed. "Whom do you work for?" he asked hoarsely.

"That you will learn only after you agree to the bargain, and at the proper time." Ranma nodded. He felt himself start to tremble; he wanted to accept Gaunt's bargain- every fiber in his being screamed at him to do so. He wanted Akane back in his life more than anything in the world. He felt so hollow without her, a mere shadow, empty and bereft. His lips started to form words of acceptance unbidden, but with a flinch he clamped his mouth shut violently, with an audible clicking of teeth.

Despite what many thought Ranma was not a stupid man. Even a blind fool could see that nothing good could come of this. Ranma looked up into Gaunt's half-hidden face, searching with all his senses. Under the old man's ragged form he could feel a great, ill-cloaked malevolence, black as anthracite: harsh, twisted, malign, desirous of naught but the infliction of misery and terror.

"What if I refuse?" Ranma asked through gritted teeth. "What then?" Gaunt tilted his head forward slightly. He drew his free hand from its pocket and stroked the gemstone with a fingertip. The gem seemed to shrink from his touch.

"That would be an unfortunate circumstance," he declared slowly. "If you reject my bargain you will leave me with no choice... I will take this soul, so pure and pristine, between my hands. I will raise it above my head and dash it down, casting it through unfathomable depths, though dry, shadowy realms and cobwebbed latitudes, tumbling unceasingly until it has finished the longest fall of all. Spurn me, Ranma Saotome, and I will throw Akane Tendo screaming into Hell, where she shall suffer unjustly ultimate torment and degradation for as long as Time endures, all because of the obstinacy of her fianc�."

"Impossible! You can't..."

"The powers I serve snatched her away unnoticed from the Elysium fields of Heaven, right from under the eyes of guardian spirits divine and powerful. Do you truly think that condemning her to perdition, an innocent though she may be, is beyond our scope?"

Ranma struck out, his body a blur of cobra-like speed. He moved like a thunderbolt in an attempt to grab Akane's soul away from Gaunt, yet impossibly the foul old man moved faster. His leap would seem like teleportation to an untrained eye; one moment he stood before Ranma, the next he was far behind him, perched perfectly balance on the decaying wire fence, facing towards the young man. Ranma wheeled around awestruck, mouth agape.

"Shall I consider these actions a refusal, boy?" Gaunt queried mockingly. He lifted the gem above his head.

"NO!" screamed Ranma, holding out his arms in protest. "I... I... I need time to think. Give me time!"

Gaunt smirked. "But of course. You shall have it. Your time is indeed your own... for the present." Gaunt chuckled. It was not a pleasant sound, and Ranma could not help but shudder. "I shall return here at sunset. Be here with your answer, and be prepared to accept consequences of your actions, now and forever." Gaunt stepped backwards off the fence, dropping down into the alley. Shadows rose up to swallow him, and he vanished from mortal sight.

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Author's Notes and Acknowledgements

Thanks once again to MissTanith and Lord Archive for their comments and pre-reading. Also thanks to the kind folks at the Suteki da ne bulletin board who took the time to post comments and support on the rough sections of this story, with especial thanks to Meeka-chan and Ranma's Girl.

Send any comments or criticism to DorianVal@aol.com. I'm always interested in hearing what you have to say. Do not bother with flames, please. If you have nothing either polite or constructive to say then show discretion by merely seeming a fool instead of removing all doubt.

Thank you all for your time and tolerance,

Jeremy Harper