Hey all -
Flexing my new email address (ain't it cute? ...and no
one cares! That's cool!) with a sidestory that's been
sitting on my HD since about the second page of the
actual Catharsis storyline was written.
Here we go -
=====
DISCLAIMER: Ranma 1/2 is property of Rumiko Takahashi,
no profit is being made from its use in this story and
no infringement is intended. However, Michi Hirugashi
is my own creation.
ARCHIVE: Draft; do not archive.
RATING: PG-15 (Man, I give the weirdest ratings...)
NOTE: This is a Catharsis sidestory that fits in at
the very end of Part One (Hubris). You won't
understand this short at all if you haven't read
Catharsis. If you would *like* to read Catharsis,
please email me at lifebounce@yahoo.com for previous
sections, or, give me a few more days (please, forgive
my insane laziness, it's the AP tests...) to upload
them to http://ling.anifics.com. Thanks.
All feedback is welcome.
=====
CATHARSIS: Entwined
-ling
=====
It doesn't happen much, but sometimes I let the
emotions in me run unrestrained in the fields of my
own self-pity. But when these rare instances occur,
bad things, as a rule, tend to happen: the first time,
I got pregnant; more recently, I got engaged. There's
a distinct pattern. I don't know, maybe it'll hold
true if I let it happen again; but today, I wouldn't
call what happened this afternoon 'bad', per se.
There is a jewelry store not too far away from Ranma's
apartment, and it's jammed in between a ramen-seller
and an okonomiyaki restaurant, so I've frequented the
store-front often, sometimes in the company of my
partner, sometimes in the company of hunger. Either
way, I've glanced through the shiny glass display case
enough times to know that there is a certain article
that I *do* like.
In the top right hand corner, there is a piece of
royal blue velvet that contradicts the cheap, red
cloth that all the other gold and silver is set upon.
It's probably a remnant from ages past, when the
jewelry store was more than just a curious little shop
of scattered goods and forgetful managers. Whatever
the reason it remains, it remains accompanied by a
glimmer of silver.
I'm not really sure if it's silver, it might be
platinum, but it seems absurd that such a tiny store
would stock such an expensive precious metal. Then
again, people are willing to pay exorbitant prices for
the charm and glitter of ring.
At any rate, it's actually two small bands, one is
made of the silver/platinum, and the other is glass.
They wind about each other in sensuous, interlocking
curves. It's a very simple ring, very small and
insignificant-looking upon first glance. The entire
width can't be any broader than a regular wedding band
- the pieces are that delicate.
I hesitate for a moment, and then throw caution to the
wind. Hell, what is there to lose? I smile bitterly,
there is very little face left to save.
Tucking my hands in my pockets tightly, I wander in
through the door, feeling my heartbeat quicken as the
old gentleman at the counter smiles at me sweetly, in
a nearly childlike way. "Hi," I start awkwardly.
"Um, I actually wanted to ask about a ring."
He watches me for a moment before saying, "I've seen
you before, haven't I, miss?" I blush and nod slowly,
lowering my gaze to the glass case full of cheap
school-girl trinkets. There are love charms, 'gold'
bracelets, gemstone rings and friends-4-ever
necklaces, the junky type of thing that every woman
has somewhere in the back of her jewelry box, too dear
to her heart to throw away, but too tacky to wear in
public.
I have three friends-4-ever necklaces, or rather,
three halves of them. The first of which came from a
girl whose name I don't quite recall, but whose fiery
hair always comes into view when I see the small,
plastic half-heart. The second was from Nerri, and it
is made of silver, real silver, and instead of a
heart, we have halves of a hoop. She'd laughed when
she'd given it to me many years ago, "Get it?" she'd
laughed, "Two halves of a 'hole'?" My third was from
my husband. He had the sun; I had the moon.
The irony is that the sun is lying somewhere in a
river, or maybe already in the open ocean, buried
under years of silt and crusted with dirt.
Gathering myself again, I say, "That ring you have in
the window display, the silver and glass ring," I
pause, "do you know anything about it?" He smiles.
And puttering slowly, he wanders over to the display
case, which, I notice unhappily, is unlocked. Sliding
the door open and reaching in, he takes out the ring.
Pulling it from the velvet case, he holds it in the
palm of his hand. I look at him curiously. He holds
it up between his thumb and forefingers, letting the
dim winter's light twinkle off of the glass. "This
ring was my Grandmother's, made for her by her
husband," he grinned sadly, a tone of regret in his
voice as he went on, "I wouldn't even sell it, but I
need the money."
God - I hate it when people say things like that.
It's just going to wreck my whole day thinking about
it.
"Now, my Grandfather was very poor, and the
silversmith gave him only this much," he modeled with
his hands a tiny piece of metal, "of silver for the
money that he had. He couldn't very well give such a
thing to my Grandmother." The old shopkeep smiles
again. "But my Grandfather was a glass blower, and he
twined the silver around the glass." He looks at me
hard, his aged eyes searching for something in my
face. "This ring symbolizes love, and good intention
where fate disallows luxury." He motions for me to
give him my hand.
It's stupid, I know. If Ranma saw me, he'd tease me
till I up and shot him - but I just can't resist. I
want to hold that ring.
I shyly hold out my right hand.
He looks a great deal like my Grandfather when he says
his next words, and he sounds a great deal like my
Aunt, whose wisdom always guided me through life.
"Your eyes are sad, Miss." He frowns at me. "You've
been treated harshly, haven't you?"
"Not really," I say defensively. "Not really."
He 'hmphs' unhappily, sliding the ring onto my finger.
I can feel it there, and I marvel at it. The perfect
balance between cold metal and glass. The glass warms
quickly against my skin, and I am left with the
strange, paradoxical feeling of hot and cold all at
once and against each other, maintaining despite the
presence of its negation.
It's like love.
Hot and cold and strange and new and beautiful and
horrible, all at the same time. And the only thing
you know for sure is that you never, never want to
lose it.
"Do you want to buy it?" he asks.
I stare at the ring for a moment, wondering what it
would be like to keep this wonderful thing. To stare
at my finger every once in a while and think back to
the story of how it came to be and what it stood for,
and to hope that maybe someday someone would make
something for me with the best of intentions at heart.
But it's his *Grandmother's*.
And fighting off a million years of estrogen and
female desire, I say, "No, no, that's okay." I smile
sadly. "I just wanted to look at it." He looks
disappointed and overjoyed all at once.
And walking away from that store, I finger the pair of
metal dog-tag necklaces in my pocket, they haven't
anything engraved on them, and they're very small.
They were the second most expensive thing in the
display case - next only to the ring. I guess they're
like the friends-4-ever necklaces, but without the
frills and lace. I slip one of the necklaces around
my neck, and idly, I wonder who'll get the other one,
or rather, who would want it.
I wonder if I will ever find the silver to my glass,
if I will ever be entwined.
=====
Thanks for reading! Like I said, all feedback
welcome.
-ling
__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Yahoo! Health - your guide to health and wellness
http://health.yahoo.com
.---Anime/Manga Fanfiction Mailing List----.
| Administrators - ffml-admins@anifics.com |
| Unsubscribing - ffml-request@anifics.com |
| Put 'unsubscribe' in the subject |
`---- http://ffml.anifics.com/faq.txt -----'