Chapter One
1
October 5, 1997
10:00 AM
Asking those who just witnessed the event would yield four very
different answers.
Forty-seven percent of the group surveyed would believe that it
was probably some scene in a movie being filmed. Despite that no
filming crew was present around the area.
Twenty-nine percent tended to think that it was some elaborate
joke. Within this group, only fifty-two males would request the
phone number of the subject of the event, compared to an
overwhelming four-hundred-and-eighty-five in the last group, due
to the fact that the average age of this survey group was about
sixty-eight years old.
Another eighteen percent would tell you to fuck off because they
didn't have a clue. They names might start appearing on short
obituaries summarizing some truly horrific deaths sometime in the
future.
The last six percent of the survey would say that it must have been
some strange Japanese ritual or custom, due to the fact that the
group is comprised of two busloads worth of ignorant American
tourists. The tour guide was approached later on this matter, and
her opinion went along with the third group. She would get run
over by an 18-wheeler two months later while picking up spare
change in the middle of a road.
Interestingly enough, the only correct answer would come from a
group not surveyed above, both because they couldn't be reached
for comment and because they couldn't speak human tongue in the
first place. However, if you were able to understand the collective
thoughts of a small flock of doves that gathered at a nearby square
five minutes earlier, you would probably have heard something
like this as they took off into the air:
(Damned human! Can't she see that we're having breakfast?)
(I swear, one more time this happens and I'm going to poke
somebody's eyes out.)
(No, you can't do that! Mother said we're only allowed to poop on
them when we get mad, and only at five stone-throws aboveground
or higher in case they got slings. If it makes you feel better,
though, you can still aim for the eyes.)
(All right, but still... just because she was ditched by her mate
doesn't give her a right to trample all over us!)
Meanwhile, the horrific cacophony of click-clacking noises that
trailed the footsteps of the subject discussed above had finally
quieted as a pair of sandaled feet came to a halt.
Meiou Setsuna, small-time model, ended her twenty-minute cross-
town rampage in front of an apartment building on the outskirts of
Minato-ku. She had jet-black hair coiffed in a fancy ornamental
headdress, a matching white robe with sleeves that went past her
fingers and skirt that ended just above the ankles, and enough
powder on her face to kill a small kitchen fire. Panting, she turned
her back to the front door and slumped against it, rivulets of sweat
making tracks along her powdered face. Her eyes rolled towards
the heaven in utter disbelief. The sun winked back at her
innocently, as if to say, _yes, it's Sunday, October the Fifth;
congratulations, your wedding starts in thirty minutes, and it's still
thirty-five degrees Celsius outside today._ Half a block away, a
boy no older than ten was happily licking away at a lollipop,
looked up and saw her, then started pointing his fingers at her and
yelling out something excitedly.
Still gasping for air, she had enough strength to give him a deathly
glare that rivaled Sadako's from "The Ring." The kid recoiled
from the stare, dropped his candy, and ran away crying.
A few moments later, Setsuna shakily pushed herself off the doors.
Briefly adjusting the headdress with one hand, she yanked the door
open savagely with the other and marched inside. Looking around,
she cursed; just her luck, no elevators. Setsuna hiked up her thick
skirt so as not to trip over herself, and started to climb the stairs.
She had just found her breath; now it was time to find her man.
2
October 5, 1997
10:03 AM
*Brrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnngggg.*
A hand appeared from underneath the blanket, fumbled its way
towards the small counter nearby until it found the alarm clock,
then pressed a large white button on it.
It had rained earlier this morning. He had woken up briefly when a
particularly strong peal of thunder sounded like an explosion
struck not too far off in the distant.
The hand retreated back into the blanket.
*Brrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnngggg.*
The hand emerged from the blanket once more, climbed up the
counter, and pressed the button on the clock more firmly this time.
The two of them had talked late into the night, and despite his wish
to help, Takuya would not allow him to help pack. Nor did
Takuya want to be seen off this morning. As lousy as his own
social etiquette was, it just didn't feel quite right for friends to part
without even a last handshake or something. Oh well. He'd long
grown used to Takuya's strangeness and the man's need for
privacy.
*Brrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnngggg. Brrrriiiiiiiiinnnng-riiing-ring-
rriiiiiinnnggg.*
Just as his had was going to pound the alarm clock into a pulp, his
mind made a monumental leap in logic. Oh, he thought, it must've
been the doorbell.
Ranma sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes with one hand. He looked
at the clock: 10:05. Not bothering to cover a yawn, he got out of
bed, feet scraping the floor and shuffling him out of his room
towards the foyer.
He opened the front door.
3
October 5, 1997
10:05 AM
Hmm. How nice. A bride. Never seen her face before. Kinda
cute, too, if a bit older than himself.
A fifteen-pound headpiece, slightly drooped to the left. Check.
Flowing robe that almost touched the ground. Check. Ankle-
length white socks and strapped sandals, check. Black stains on
the socks and the bottom of the skirt, check. Probably stepped on a
puddle or something left from the rain. Woman muttering
something about a "Yamaguchi-san." Check. Panting like a horse
and eyes bulging like a fish out of water - now, that's something
new.
Ranma shut the door behind him and headed back for bed. It was
way too early for this shit.
4
October 5, 1997
10:06 AM
*Brrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnngggg. Brrrriiiiiiiiinnnng-riiing-ring-
rriiiiiinnnggg.*
Door opened. Again.
"Yamaguchi-san?" The woman asked again, apparently recovered
enough from her recent lack of air. Her hands moved out to adjust
the wrinkles on his shirt. "Why are you looking like that? Don't
you know what time it is?"
A tentative pause. The hands withdrew. She took a step back,
looking at him critically. "Hmm, you shaved. That's good," she
remarked absently, before noticing something else. "Huh, no
glasses either. And when did you start wearing a pigtail?" In the
end, a conclusion was reached. "You're not Yamaguchi-san?"
He shook his head.
The woman immediately ignored him. "Yamaguchi-san!" She
called out into the room. Finding the man still blocking the
doorway, she tilted her head to the right and tried to see past him.
"Yamaguchi-san!" Ranma moved his body to the left.
She tilted her head to the left. "Yamaguchi-san?" Still no answer.
He shifted to his right this time.
Exasperated, she shoved a hand forward and pushed Ranma out of
the doorway. Holding the folds of her skirt with the other hand,
she squeezed herself past him and into the apartment.
"Yamaguchi-san, where are you?"
She ran past the living room and poked her head into the first door
on the right. "Where are you?" She called out again. Ranma, still
slightly dazed from the rude treatment he received, protested and
unsuccessfully made a move to catch her as he saw where she was
heading. "Hey, that's my room!"
She yanked the blanket away from the bed. Nobody there. She
scurried out of the room. Ranma closed his bedroom door in a
hurry and followed after her.
"Yamaguchi-san?" She poked her head into the other room.
Nothing there either. Not even furniture this time. "Now where
could he be?" She frowned and muttered to herself as she slowly
retreated into the living room.
"Yamaguchi-san?" She asked hopefully at the empty space
underneath the sofa.
"Yamaguchi-san?" She yanked the refrigerator door open and
asked. No answer; not in the freezer compartment either.
"Yamaguchi-san?" She dashed back to the foyer and called out
into the closet. The name was repeated each time she moved a
piece of clothing on the hanger to the side until her fingers
suddenly stopped. "His favorite raincoat..."
Defeated, she walked back towards the living room once more.
She leaned her weight against the first thing she found, propped up
an elbow, her chin supported in one hand. "Where on earth could
he have disappeared to?"
"Um, the piano..." Ranma weakly protested.
Startled, she took her elbow off the shiny surface it was resting on
and turned toward him. "Sorry," she said. Then, as if really seeing
him for the first time, she asked. "And you are?"
"Saotome Ranma, his roommate." Reflexively, he brought up a
hand behind him, scratching the back of his head. His tone was
almost apologetic.
"Yamaguchi-san used to do that too," she remarked absently.
Then, as if realizing something, she asked, "Say, do you know
where he is?" Red eyes bore into his.
"Takuya? Um, he just moved out earlier this morning."
She nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. "I see..."
Suddenly, she froze.
Pause. Rewind. Play.
And Ranma had thought her eyes were huge three minutes ago.
5
October 5, 1997
10:10 AM
"What do you mean, HE LEFT?" The woman in front of him
screeched incredulously. Then, forcing herself to calm down, she
went on in a slightly lower volume, "This has got to be a joke. I
mean, the ceremony's at ten-thirty, and my parents and cousins are
all at the square already...does he want me to go to the wedding all
by myself?" She paced about angrily as she went on, walking back
and forth in the small open space between the grand piano and the
glass-top table in the living room.
Something tugged at Ranma's memory. He excused himself and
quickly went into the other room, only to reappear a few heartbeats
later, a thin envelop in one hand. "Uh," he hesitated, eyeing first at
the addressee on the plain-looking envelop, then at the woman who
was well on her way carving a circle into the living-room's floor
with her feet. Finally, he said, a bit louder this time, "Meiou-san?"
Setsuna stopped walking. "How do you know my name?" She
asked in an accusatory tone. Ranma pointed to the letter; or, rather,
he pointed to the empty space in his hand where the letter had been
two seconds earlier.
"For my dearest Setsuna..." Setsuna threw away the torn envelop
and began reading, her body sinking into the couch, legs spread
apart ungracefully. Ranma saw an unhealthy amount of creamy
thigh for an instant before turning his gaze somewhere much safer.
"...Here," she thrust out the hand holding the letter and said,
"Read this."
"Who, me?" He pointed to himself, bewildered. "Why am I
reading your letter?"
"Because my eyes might go into shock, that's why! I'll probably
get so mad from looking at this that my eyeballs will explode," she
said, hand waving impatiently. Not wishing to argue further, he
reached for the letter.
"On the other hand, I think I'll just read it myself." She withdrew
the hand. Then held it out again. "No, you'd better do it." And
took it back. "Hold on, maybe not."
Ranma stared at Setsuna for a moment, then rolled his eyes. "I
think I'll just go back to my room," he announced.
"Wait!" She stopped him. "You better read this after all."
He turned, eyeing her suspiciously. "You sure?" She nodded. He
gingerly took the letter from her, unfolded it, and began reading.
"Dearest -"
"Wait!"
Ranma put the letter down, totally exasperated. "Now what?"
"Give me a second to prepare," she said. She snapped her knees
together, placed her hands on the bend of her skirt, and took a few
deep breaths. "Okay."
"Okay," he agreed, and started again. "'Dearest Setsuna: I'm
sorry...'"
Setsuna snorted in disgust. "Oh, what a beautiful opening."
"Oh, it gets better," Ranma said. Then he paused. "Hey! Do you
want me to read this or not?" He finally snapped.
"Sure, sure," she made a half-hearted wave and said, "Go on."
Seeing that it was futile to argue with the woman, he decided to
just get the whole thing out of the way so he could ask her to leave.
"Anyway, here's the rest," he swallowed before continuing.
Hopefully, no more interruptions this time. "'...I'm sorry. During
the time that we've been together, I've found myself falling in love
with another woman. As she is the type of girl who can't seem to
live without me, and you're the type of girl who can probably
survive for ages even if I'm not with you, I've decided that it
would probably be best if we say goodbye to each other. Yours
truly, Takuya. - p.s. Please say hi to your parents and cousins for
me at the wedding, and give them my deepest apologies. I'm sorry
that I've never had the chance to meet them personally, and
probably never will."
Ranma put the letter down slowly. He had barely been able to
finish the letter himself, his voice shaking several times during the
reading and especially towards the end. Seeing no reaction from
the other end of the living room, he added helpfully. "That's
everything," he said, then glanced up at the woman on the couch
with a sinking feeling in his stomach. This was not going to be
pretty.
Setsuna, who sat motionlessly throughout the ordeal with a shell-
shocked expression, made as if to say something, but no sound
came out. To his surprise, her lips gradually widened, before
finally setting into a beautiful smile.
6
October 5, 1997
10:15 AM
"I'm going to shove my staff so far up his ass his eyes will turn
garnet!" Setsuna roared, grabbing the TV remote from the glass
table and waving it around like a club. "You hear me, Takuya?
You can run, but you can't hide!" She kicked the table aside and
started looking for something to break. She saw the piano.
Ranma followed the trail of her gaze and immediately went behind
her. "Not the piano!" He yelled in panic, trying to restrain her
flailing arms with his own and almost lost his balance as she
kicked her legs up into the air in a desperate attempt to escape.
Finally, her energy spent, Setsuna's body collapsed and slumped
against him, her weight pushing both of them back onto the sofa.
"Feeling better?" Ranma looked down at the woman in his arms
after what seemed an eternity had passed, his eyes full of concern
and warmth. He briefly noted that her headdress had fallen off
sometime during the struggle, and a cascade of rich, emerald green
flowed out as a result. Evidently, the black wig had been part of
the headpiece.
Her head still pressed against his chest, a much calmer Setsuna
lifted her chin to regard him coolly. "No," she admitted honestly
after considering, then went right back to screaming. "Let me go!
Let me go! I'm going to kill him, the sonofabitch... Dead Scream!
Dead Scream! Deeeeaad Screeeaaam!"
x x x
"Feeling better?" Ranma looked down and asked finally.
Somehow, after the last outburst, they had ended in the exactly
same position back on the couch. Setsuna tilted her head upward,
lips pursing thoughtfully.
"Just say 'yes'," he nearly pleaded.
"...yes." She could feel his sigh of relief on her face.
The two stared at each other for a few moments longer, then
simultaneously jolted apart as they realized their proximity to each
other.
"Uh, well," Ranma started, scratching his pigtail uncomfortably.
"I... I've gotta go and brush my teeth," he said.
"...right." Setsuna agreed from the other end of the sofa, a slight
distraction in her voice betraying her otherwise cool composure.
"Go on, go on." She waved a hand at him.
He didn't need further invitation.
x x x
Once he was by himself in the bathroom, Ranma had time to
reflect on what was turning out to be one of the worst mornings
he'd had the pleasure of waking up to since he left Nerima.
Looking up at the mirror, he peered at his reflection and noted off-
handedly that he still looked exactly as he did one year ago.
Honestly, why do things like this always happen to me? He
thought, bending down to the sink again, toothbrush working
furiously in his hand. Didn't this kind of stuff only happen in
Nerima? And what's the deal about all that "Dead Scream" shit?
A knock on the bathroom door brought him out of the trance and
reminded him that he was not alone in the house.
"Um, Sa...otome-san?" Setsuna asked from the other side
uncertainly, trying to pronounce his name.
He spat out the paste in his mouth, rinsed, and quickly went to
wiping his face with a towel from the rack. "Oh, you need to use
the bathroom?" He asked. "Hold on, I'm almost done."
The bathroom door creaked open. Ranma took the towel away
from his face and turned in slight disbelief. Surely she didn't need
to go that badly.
Seeing the questioning look on his face, Setsuna amended hastily,
still peeking from behind the door, "Er, no, but, I just thought of
something..." she trailed off, not knowing how to begin. He
looked at her expectantly.
"How old are you?" She asked abruptly. Eighteen, he said, eyes
blinking in confusion. Setsuna nodded to herself. "A bit
young..." she remarked to herself softly before continuing. "See,"
she explained, "I was thinking, you know, how it's the nineties and
all, and it's not that big of a taboo anymore for younger guys to get
together with women older than themselves... like, that actress
Miyazawa and, what's his face, that sumo-wrestling champion-"
she paused, fingers drumming on the doorframe, eyebrows creased
in an attempt to recall the name.
"Takanohana," he supplied.
"-right, Takanohana." Setsuna said, squeezing her body past the
opening in the doorway. "And, like, if you have five minutes, you
can probably get cleaned up and put on something nice..." she
broke off again, swallowing a little.
"Yea, so?" Ranma had no idea what the connection was.
Suddenly, he found himself backed up against the wall, a slender
arm to each side of the space around his neck, face to face with the
woman with those strange red eyes that pinned him down like a
trapped animal. He could feel her hair draping his shoulders.
Setsuna looked at the young man intently, the distance between
them so close that their noses nearly touched. Never in a million
years would Sailor Pluto do something like this, a fleeting thought
crossed her mind. The problem was, she was no longer Pluto.
What was left of the Senshi of Time was a normal woman whose
dream of a career constantly ended up in the gutter, washed away
by the sewage water that was her luck. She was only Meiou
Setsuna, as the past year had repeatedly pointed out to her, and
Meiou Setsuna would be damned if she had to face the mass
ridicule on this particular day from the pack of hyenas people
mistook for her relatives.
Setsuna stared into the blue irises of the young man's eyes for a bit
longer, and saw only herself. A decision was reached.
"Marry me," she blurted.
(END CHAPTER)
Special thanks to: Figment on IRC, who helped me proof this
damned thing :P
-ukie
---------------------------------
Do you Yahoo!?
Exclusive Video Premiere - Britney Spears
.---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 -----'