Rumiko Takahashi owns Ranma 1/2. Soul of Ice is a fanfiction that belongs to Matthew Lewis. What is original belongs to me. Influences? . . . Well, that's anyone's guess. [Special note: This fic's a one-shot, but I'm releasing it in two parts. For various personal reasons, the latter part hasn't been written yet. I feel that I need some response on this part to continue. Thank you for your time.] Strictly speaking, this is *not* an SoI story. I wanted it to be one, but it kinda . . . I dunno. Evolved, maybe. Got outta hand. It still possesses a lot of the characteristics you'd expect in one, but I won't bother to pretend that that's what it is. I wouldn't be lying if I said that Matt wrote most of the stuff here, except that he'd have my head on a platter if I did. There's stuff in here he doesn't agree to. I'm gonna settle for this fic being "inspired" by SoI, though if you're familiar with SoI, you'll see some . . . er, things you've seen before. All due credit is given. Give praise to Matt. The insults come to me (though I'd appreciate it if someone could give me a few comments). Nevermind all that for now. Let's get this straight: 1) This is a piece of utterly inferior writing. It's probably not presentable enough to see the light of day. I tried my best. Don't kill me over it. 2) It's also an altverse, though the only difference I can think of is Tofu's age. 3) You *don't* need to read all of SoI to understand this fic. All that's needed is Point and Counterpoint. Be warned. This isn't a darkfic . . . is it? MST is welcome. So are Cs. Have fun ^_^ SeventhOne nanashi96@hotmail.com Nanashi in #fanfic on the Newberry chatserver *** Previously: See Matthew Lewis's Soul of Ice: Point + Counterpoint. http://www.tass.org/fanfic/Soul-of-Ice/ *** Soul of Ice: deus ex machina (unofficial alt-universe) Begun: 12/21/1999 Draft I: 09/13/2000 Draft II: 11/22/2000 Draft III: 12/2/2000 Final Draft: pending revision * deus ex machina Mist is welcome. So are Seas. *** Prologue: Soft Rains Falling "The path of the Soft Rains is not to fight the ones who oppose you, but to seek a way to soften their resolve, to come to an agreement. It is a path to the future, a vision of what is to come." *** The night tells a thousand stories in its own language. Sometimes the words are musical . . . Only sometimes. The ones in this story are not. These words came out of some jagged maw in the nether regions of gray at the edge of the darkness. The butchered remains of what was once a voice only barely get the story across. This I beg of you, though: listen. The cacophony that is the story still has a tune to it. If sung through the right mouth, in the right language, with the right tones, you can still hear it. It's not gone yet . . . Listen . . . ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss Nanashimanga presents An unofficial SoI alt . . . S - d - O - e - U - u - L - s [sOul Of iCe] o - E - f - X - X - f - E - o [deus EX machina] I - ma - C - chi - E - na - 74 "They're all alone in this together." A Ranma 1/2 Fanfiction by SeventhOne ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss 1 -- The Forgotten -- Happosai & Cologne *** 08/01/1995 [Happosai - the yasha-ou] In the beginning, there was a grand idea, all drawn out and complex and well-thought-out and whatnot. Thousands of ideas fit this description. "Why Ranma?" In the beginning, they say. Yes. "Because he's the best of this generation. The best of a lot of generations." The "in the beginning" thing has been around since the dawn of time, and it's been used Natasha knows how many times since. The idea's always there, and it's always been drawn out and complex and well-thought-out. Never otherwise. "What do you want?" And you know what? "Not all people want, Happosai. I'm merely doing this to ensure the survival of my school beyond me. What is your goal?" There's always a flaw. Always. "Anything Goes. Have you heard of the term individualism? That's what I want for Ranma. I want him to live his life to the fullest." Like take the monothe-whachamacallit-thingamajig for example. *The* God ('cause they only have one) creates this entire world, all perfect and worked out and happy. He even puts people on it, yeah? "Bullshit. Lies. It's a waste of talent, and you know it. You are merely destroying his potential. And for what? Your own lusts and perversions. Nothing more." And he just *had* to put in the little green snake. Nothing's perfect. "Yeah? You know what you're doing? You're turning him into a machine! That's what you're doing!" The thing is, the thing is, there's always one little thing missing to every grand idea. The little mistake that you just thought you were clever enough to manipulate. You know what? One little mistake, and the whole thing unravels before your eyes like a ball of pantyhose. "I'm doing no such thing. The Soul of Ice is a capability only humans have. It is what separates us from animals. To use it absolutely is to be absolutely human." Most people just call it a "critical mistake," whatever that means. Well-educated folks call it "the Seed of Doubt." I doubt the little green snake appreciates that. The old Chinese called it Tao. Or at least an aspect of Tao . . . "It's against the way of nature. It's an abomination. If that's what being a human is, I'd rather be called an animal." But then, they call everything an aspect of Tao, so it really doesn't matter . . . "I see no point in continuing this conversation, then. Goodbye." The boy must not join her cause. *Must* not. "Yeah! Go on old hag. Run away from what you can't face, eh!" And the hag's losing. There's something wrong with her plan, see? She just doesn't know it yet. "You stupid woman! Get outta here and don't come back!" You know the flaw to it? The flaw to her plan? Too much of the so-called "control" stuff. She assumes that just 'cause she's been making events around the boy tend towards chaos since she first met him, the boy'll go her way. Need to control your life, yeah? Nuh-uh. No sir, that's not gonna happen. "You hear me, you!" She's forgetting something. In order for the boy to go to her, he has to do it because it's the greater of his two desires. And if I suggest that he remembers to let his desires drive him, he'll do it, because he's that kinda guy. He'll come back. Just you wait and see . . . And you know the best part? "Oiii!!!" The best part is, *I'm* not truly exercising any control over him. It's *his* own free will! Ha! I'm just soooo good . . . "Gone . . . Bitch." *** 08/01/1995 [Cologne - the ice] You think you've got me, eh? You're wrong, old fool. Just because Ranma exercises free will in the act of coming to me means nothing. Control takes account of all things, emotions or not. *** 08/25/1995 [Happosai - the yasha-ou] In his dream, Happosai backed away from the thing that stared at him, his movements sickeningly slow, his body unable to escape his fear of the thing with the piercing white eyes. He felt his back against the wall . . . And then? And then it wasn't a wall anymore. Perhaps it had never been, and he had only thought it was. It oozed like the darkness that he imagined lurking somewhere in the depths of the night. He slid slowly to the floor, unable to move in his fear. The ooze had covered his hand, and he raised it to see what it was. Red. Blood. Cold as ice. And then he noticed that the room was not as black as he had originally thought it was. The darkness was the natural dark that came with the night. The black was . . . The black was what remained of his parents. Their blood and guts, rendered paste by whatever technique the thing in front of him had used. His fingers had numbed in the sudden coldness of the room, and he was shivering, grabbing himself by the shoulders and trying to warm himself, without success. He couldn't feel his body. "Wh . . . who are you," he asked, barely overcoming the cold. "What are you doing?" "I am merely eliminating threats, child." "Mo-mother and fa-father never did an-anything to you!" "They might have done something." And the white eyes glowed brighter. "And so might you." And it started coming closer . . . Happosai woke, shivering. ". . . That dream again." Ranma . . . *** deus ex machina Mist is welcome. So are Seas. New Latin,: a god from a machine (translation of Greek: theos ek mEchanEs) *** Chapter I: Storm "The first part of learning the Soul of Ice is the preparation of bodily control skills . . . fast paced lessons are executed to instill the skills upon the student." * 2 -- The Chosen -- Saotome Ranma & Tendo Akane *** 12/21/2011 [the mother] "Mama? Can you tell me that story about the samurai again? I wanna hear it." "Yes, dear." "Yay!! Thanks, Mama!" The child ran off to his room, giggling as he went. The mother followed. "Shinta-chan?" she asked. "Yes, Mama?" "Why do you keep asking me for this one story? Is it your favorite?" "Yep! I love this story!" The mother smiled as she sat down besides the child on his bed. "C'mon, Mama. Can you begin?" For a moment, she let a tinge of sadness touch her eyebrows. Then it was gone. "Today I'll tell you a different story," she said. "Does it have the samurai in it?" "Yes, it does." "Okay, then!" "Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was a samurai . . ." [And the night wind whistled its tune across the rooftops . . .] *** Imagine that there is fork in the road, which is at the same time a split between opposing branches on the same tree. How many paths do you see? *** Saotome Ranma I: Process Initiation Points: 1) The subject will begin thinking about his current situation and what lies ahead for him in his future. 2) Forced on to the defensive, H. will attempt to interfere with the situation. 3) With pressure from both sides, the subject will make the choice. 4) Given the state of the subject as of the compilation of this paper, there is approximately a 75% chance he will choose this process as opposed to H.'s. *** 08/06/1995 [Ranma - the boy] I've made my choice. I'm not going to change it. Yes . . . but . . . But can I tell her this? Can I tell her who I'm going to train with? Yes. It's . . . possible. I've come this far. I'm standing outside her door, reading her sign. A - ka - ne . . . Am I strong enough? A Saotome never backs down. Will I say something . . . stupid? I . . . she'll probably think that I'm just making another excuse to see Shampoo . . . Will she hit me? It doesn't hurt. It never did. The pain is that she . . . . . . reached out her hand, offering it to me. "Do you want to be friends?" she had asked. "Yes," I had answered. And that was all that I could ever hope for. A friend . . . What of Hiroshi and Daisuke . . . ? No. They're just people who hang around me. To them, I'm just one of the guys, even if I'm a little different. What about Ukyou? Our friendship was long ago. It's changed since. She's gotten a little too close for comfort. Ryouga? He was never my friend to begin with. "I'll kill you, Ranma!" No, definitely not. But a true friend . . . not only that, a life in which such a friendship could last. A life in which I couldn't be called "dishonorable," couldn't be called a "pervert," at least not for the things I'd done and had been through. I want to control my life. I don't want to be called things I'm not. It's my only desire. My one and only. "Our style . . . what we practice . . ." the old man's words had been. "Our philosophy is to enjoy ourselves. We use what makes us happy to become better martial artists. Your father knew this, once. He created a set of techniques based upon getting things from people. I, well, you know about my focus." Desire. Desire for control . . . "Good, good, child! And what is the soul of ice but control? Being in command of yourself, your emotions, and your opponent, leading him or her through the spiral," Cologne had said. Control. And then Akane's words came back to him, from the first day. "I would hate it if I lost to a boy." It had hurt. I can't tell her. Desire? Control? He turned from Akane's door, and started down the hall. "Ranma." He turned. Happosai. "You've chosen, then?" asked the old man, looking a bit sad. "Yes," answered Ranma. "And you're going to her?" "Yes." "You're not gonna reconsider?" Ranma looked down at his feet. "I want control of my life," he answered. "It's my only true desire." Happosai remained silent. "This is something I have to do, Happosai. I just want a normal life. I need to control myself, control the situation. It can't go on like this." He looked at the old man. "I don't know if what I'm doing is right. I intend to do it anyway." Happosai looked him in the eye. "I can't stop you, then." "No." The old man sighed. "I couldn't, even if I really wanted you to stay. It's your desire, and I have no right to interfere." Ranma turned away to leave. "Wait, boy." He stopped, facing away from the old man. "What?" "I want you to remember something. There's only so much that I can do for you once you've left." "What is it?" He didn't see Happosai smile. It wasn't the normal kind of smile Happosai usually had. It was . . . sad . . . No, Ranma never saw. He felt it. "I want you to remember this," said Happosai. "No matter what you do, where you are, always ask yourself this question: Is this really what I want?" "Is this really what I want . . . ?" "Yes." "I . . . thanks." Ranma took a step forward, into the shadows of the hall. "Goodbye." *** "Why is he thinking?" "He isn't exactly thinking. At least, not as we would. On his part, he's merely reacting to the situation. The thoughts are relatively simple, and he's merely deciding what it is he's going to do." "But he is thinking. I mean, not much, but he is." "Well, yes. The encounter has made him think a little. Like you said, not much." "Seems a bit angsty, though." "Indecision isn't angst." "A boy makes his choice, and his fate forever changes . . . Years later, a young mother tells the tale of the choice to her child . . . Where's the connection?" "You tell me." "Why here? Why now?" "Once upon a time, this place had another name. For now, it will be called Nerima. It is where the horses are trained." *** 08/06/1995 [Ranma - the boy] The door opened. "We closed now. Come back tomorrow," answered Shampoo before she realized who it was she was talking to. Shampoo's face lit up with a smile as she saw who it was. He was here . . . "I need to speak with Cologne, Shampoo," Ranma said. She answered with a sigh, and opened the door. "Hello, Ranma," Cologne said, atop her staff. "Is this a social visit, or do you have some other reason?" "I got an answer for you, old ghoul," Ranma said. A grin spread upon Cologne's face. "Yes," said Ranma. *** 12/21/2011 [the mother] "And what did the Holy Person teach him, Mama?" The mother smiled at the child and touched his nose. "It would give you nightmares if I told you," she said. "Hey! No fair! C'mon! Tell me, mama!" She sighed in defeat. *** 08/08/1995 [Ranma - the boy] "We'll begin your training with lessons in involuntary muscle control, Ranma. Close your eyes." Ranma nodded and did so. "Good. Now, try to slow your heart down. Picture it in your mind, pulsing regularly, pumping out life and energy to your body. Let it rest and . . ." *** II: Bodily Control Points: 1) The subject complies with standards of physical healthiness prerequisite to starting the process. 2) The subject will complete general physical training within a few days of starting. 3) The subject will enter the Bodily Control Sequence immediately after preparation is complete. 4) The BC-Sequence will require the subject to encounter and subdue the various undesirable elements of his subconscious before completion is allowed. 5) Upon completion, the subject is deemed fit to continue into the Emotional Control Sequence. *** 12/21/2011 [the mother] "And the Holy Person showed the Samurai the way to the land of demons. She told him, 'Fight them, become their master. When you have succeeded, they will show you the way out." "What'd he do then, Mommy?" "He fought. He made the demons his servants, and they helped him make his way through the land. Finally, when the last demon had become his servant, the door to the land opened again, and the demons led him to it, and let him out." "They didn't eat him, did they? Did they follow him out?" The mother smiled. "No, Shinta-chan. When the Samurai came out of the door, the demons wanted to follow him. When they tried, though, he stopped them. He told them that their own world was their home, and that as their master, he forbade them from doing so." "So the Samurai left them behind?" "Yes. He left his demons behind, and then he stepped into the light." The child remain quiet for a moment, apparently thinking. Then he smiled. "Hmph, that wasn't so scary," the child said, proud that he wasn't afraid. "Nope. But this is --" The young mother giggled as she tickled her child and watched him laugh and squirm, trying to escape her fingers. Somewhere within her, she wished it could last forever. *** 09/13/1995 [Ranma - the boy] "Are you willing to do anything to achieve your goal?" Do I want this? "Anything at all?" Is this really what I want? "Are you willing to go to Hell and return?" Really? "Yes." *** 09/14/1995 [Ranma - the program] Blackness beyond black. He could see nothing at all, not even black itself. Had it been merely his imagination? Did black really exist? where am I, asked the mind. am I dead? "No, Ranma, you're not dead." huh? who are You? "You don't need to worry about that now. You do have to worry about regaining your body." body? I have a body? "Yes, Ranma. This is part of your training. I've isolated your mind from your body. You must now regain control of it. Learn to use every muscle, every cell, and every nerve. When you've mastered control of everything, you will have learned to fully use your body. You will know every aspect of it, and you will not forget." will I be able to leave here, then? "Yes, but only if you do so quickly." why? will something bad happen to me if I don't? " . . . You'll cease to exist." I . . . see. I'll disappear, right? "Yes." I don't wanna disappear. I'll find my body. "Yes . . . you will . . ." *** 12/06/1995 [the beast] "I expect you'll want to know why I've brought you here," said the voice. Tug. An attempt to rip the hands away from the knot. Failure. "You're here because a fate has been planned for you. In five hours, you shall cease to exist." Repeat attempt. Failure. "You will disappear. A creature of pure desire will replace you." An attempt to scream. Failure. "You shall become the heir to your family style." Shaking. An attempt to break away from the hold of the rope again. Failure. "And then, he shall be mine." The change took place. A ripple, no larger than one that would have been caused by a pebble thrown into a pond, spread through the mind. Then, suddenly, without warning, the mind was torn apart. Consciousness and unconsciousness mingled and mixed, and the emotions usually bound down by common sense ran free. From every thought, an interpretation of a different memory arose, and a thousand facets of a single event clashed with a thousand others. Urges and desires played together with loves and hates. Somewhere, something awoke. A creature rose from the sea of thoughts and memories. A primal creature, with primal urges. It drank the sea that gave it birth, swallowed it whole and made the watery depths part of itself. And then it had a purpose. It knew what it had to do. He was gonna die. *** 10/05/1995 [Ranma - the program] Them. virus cat.exe need to get away The Pain get Them away. i can't . . . Pain need to get away Hurts breath. need to get away the PAIN They are coming for me. with every breath the Pain need to Get away from ME coming The Pain is Here. GET AWAY FROM me!! coming From me need to GET AWAY! from me!!!! Them is here. Them is me. Here. i cannot escape from Them because they are ME. curiosity executed the cat They have gotten here. They are everywhere. They are inside. GET AWAY!!! can't They are grasping at me, Clawing, Eating me from the I Nside. NEED to get away I am Eating me Them. *** "Back to my point, look at everyone else who practices Anything Goes, and what do you see? Excess. A lack of control. They cannot see beyond their baggage. Akane was with us when you learned the Hiryu Shoten Ha. She heard what you heard, saw what you saw. How come she never learned the move then?" Do you hear the madness? *** 10/20/1995 [Ranma - the program] [Ranma . . .] This is the me that might have been. [lifted himself out of the waters . . .] This is the me that might still be. [and onto the ice shelf. Antarctica was under the cloak of night, and would remain so for several months . . .] And if I let the ice claim my soul, this is all that will ever be. Coldness, wind, and snow. This might be my life. [A small effort was all it took for Ranma to dry himself, a brief thought and a pulse of ki.] Power? Yes, there's power there. Or maybe not. This me really has nothing that I don't have right now. [He did not feel the cold, which could not ever hope to match the absoluteness of the one inside of him.] All there is is hot and cold, and all the various states of existence in between. The only difference between these states is the degree to which I can use my potential abilities. [He made his way farther south, deeper and deeper over the glacier . . .] The ice is unchanging, unyielding. The vacuum of emotion within this me will never be eroded. And this me will never melt. Never die. [past all life and all human outposts . . .] And there is no humanity left. Humanity has been passed, transcended. [There came a time when Ranma sat down cross-legged and tilted his head upwards to look at the cold sky and the remote stars which populated it.] What is the point? Is this the goal I have strived to achieve? Is this what I'll get for my efforts? [Would any of them figure out what he meant by the "south, where it is cold?" Would any of them want to come, even if they did figure it out?] And having left humanity behind, will this me have a purpose for existence? Is this what I want? [It did not matter, Ranma was sufficient to deal with the situation if they came or if they did not . . .] Is this what I really want? No. *** They are called the yasha, the demons of the night. They come bearing no good will, and their purpose is mischief. What sort of mischief, do you ask? Chaos, pain, hatred, sin, darkness, perversion, and all the darker elements of humanity. Why do they do it? For pleasure. They exist as a dark reflection of man, as the servants of entropy. They exist to erode the sanctuary called civilization. Man is not a thing of nature. Man is a perversion of nature that arose of nature's randomness. Nature is self-correcting. Man is an error. The yasha exist as a consequence of this force of correction. They exist because they should, because nature dictates that they should. Never because man wants them to. And yet . . . Somewhere in the night, a young yasha is born, and the king of the yasha mourns for a child that died in its birth. It was never meant to be like this. Never. *** 12/07/1995 [the beast] The eyes were glowing red. That much the man could see. He gasped a bit, and swallowed the saliva in his mouth, the terror widening his eyes and causing him to sweat cold in the winter wind that poured through the alleyway. This was not what he'd been expecting. He straightened his disheveled clothes enough to allow slightly more ease of movement, and he began backing away from the glow. "L-look," he said rather shakily, "I don't know what I've done to piss you off, but I thought we agreed to doing this." The man couldn't believe this was the same person he'd talked to just a few minutes ago. It . . . it wasn't a person anymore. It looked totally different, like some kind of monster. "Why? Why do you wanna kill me? I've been nothing but nice to you." The eyes came a step closer. "Oh my god." *** The beast laughed, the beast cried, and the beast soared through the night sky, screaming in the joy of such freedom. And the beast would hunt. There were preys everywhere. Slipping amongst them was so easy . . . The beast licked its fingers of the warm blood that covered them. The torn corpse of the woman that lay at its feet was no longer moving. The beast smiled. It lowered itself to the corpse and opened its mouth. It bit down on the flesh and tore away, savoring the taste of the meat. . . . The beast wondered for a moment what being a human was like . . . And then as quickly as the thought had come, it left, and the beast continued onwards, searching for fresh, sweet female meat to feast upon. Who cares what food thinks about before it dies? The beast giggled in delight. And Tofu slept in peace, in his room, after having fallen asleep reading a medical text. Outside the window, predatory eyes watched his sleeping form. *** 10/25/1995 [Ranma - the program] [Ranma stood up. The walls trembled as such a sight. He had a room to himself now, just like Happousai did. Genma bunked with Soun, too afraid of his son to spend the night in the same room.] This is the me that might have been. [No one would look at Ranma anymore-- no one could. The was something indefinite about him now; a peculiar lack of sharpness or a blurriness which made it nearly impossible for someone to really make out any of his features, even as he slept. The effect extended to whatever clothes Ranma wore.] This is the me that might never be. ["i'M g oI n G oUT !noW" Ranma announced to the air, not caring if anyone else heard and knowing that they all did. His voice was out of synch with his lips, or would be, if one concentrated enough and looked at his mouth as he talked.] This is the happiness that I'll never know. This is the happiness that comes of touching the sky. [Ranma left his room in a state of disrepair and extreme mess: unmade bed (futon, really), clothes scattered across the floor, both clean and dirty, an odd selection of broken sea-shells and strange rocks, and an alarm clock turned on its side.] Carefree, in a land that has eternal summer, in a place where the sea breeze blows, and the skies are blue and run forever. Where the windows are open, and sun is always just right. [He stalked down the streets, owning them completely-- not heeding the multitude of small pot-holes. Giggling hysterically, Ranma suddenly leapt onto the side of a wall and started running, leaving patternless tracks along the surface as he made his way. Whooping with glee, Ranma spiraled off the wall and back onto the ground.] But . . . But these desires aren't mine. Mine lie elsewhere. There are certain things I want to do. This is not what I want. [Happosai zoomed by, a large bag of underwear -- liberated -- from the young women who recently wore them on his back. Said women were in the process of chasing Happosai, who found himself stopped in mid-flight by Ranma's hand, who caught him.] Whatever happiness that I might find in this life does not arise from the full achievement of my goals and desires. ["Why did you do that, student?"] They arise from the ignorance of such desires. Though they are my true goal, these desires that I wish to fulfill are ones from which pain might come. The me that is in this life has forever escaped from the pain. This is not what I want to do. I have done what I have done because I require it of myself. It is something I owe me, and I will finish what I have started. ["'fected-- technique! ;nOt STudent? trAINing coMPLeTe, now." Ranma's voice echoed in his chest, creating strange resonances.] This is an extreme: the final happiness that comes with such a thing as death. The me that is in this life has achieved the happiness in living, and all is well. ["Well what are you going to do?"] The me that has embraced the ice is another extreme: the lack of feelings, and hence the lack of motivation. The me in that life has died. That me has achieved death in life. There is no happiness. ["Japan, Tendos, Nerima. Small too for me."] The world is a huge place. I should not limit myself. ["Where will you go?" Happousai shouted just as Ranma was about to disappear from sight.] I will go where I need to go . . . [Ranma turned around. For a brief moment, he was clear and defined again. "To have some fun, of course!" was the shouted reply. A shudder, a shimmer and Ranma was gone -- into the wilds, into the world.] I will do what I need to do. *** "They're wrong about you; she's wrong about you, Ranma -- Akane's wrong! You're not the pervert, her family is!" Happousai's face contorted with a brief spasm of rage. "The Tendos have perverted my school. It was never meant like that. They aren't practicing Anything Goes, but instead some mockery of it!" "The Tendos -- Soun isn't a practitioner. What does he do but sit around and mope and cry at the least little thing? He gets no joy from his tears, only more tears and more heartache. If he ever learned the Shishi hokoudan I would actually be worried about him . . ." "Akane . . .bah! She barely practices. Protest as much as she wants, whine as much as she wants, but you know as well as I that she's not one of us; Akane is not really a martial artist. She doesn't have the commitment to the Art it takes. Would she give her life over to the Art, like you have, like you would? Hah! Never. She would never consider that. She doesn't even regularly practice anymore. You know this at least as well as I do, I know you do." *** deus ex machina Mist is welcome. So are Seas. New Latin,: a god from a machine (translation of Greek: theos ek mEchanEs) 1) a god introduced by means of a crane in ancient Greek and Roman drama to decide the final outcome 2) a person or thing (as in fiction or drama) that appears or is introduced suddenly and unexpectedly and provides a contrived solution to an apparently insoluble difficulty *** Chapter II: Wind and Mist "The second part of the Soul of Ice training is the learning of the Wind and Mist technique. Originally, the Wind and Mist technique was developed to give the user absolute control of the mind and body. Hundreds of years of research, however, have shown it to be inadequate. While it does confer absolute control of the body, it cannot control the stronger emotions of the mind . . . " *** 10/27/1995 [Ranma - the program] ["Younger men bore me . . . I'm sure Akane would be interested."] This is the me that might still be. Selfishness in sacrifice. ["That's a good boy." . . . pat on the back.] This is the me that might have been. Spiteful modesty. Uncontrolled control. [Above the fray . . . above the chaos. Not having transcended humanity, but having accepted everything and living on.] This is the me that I want to be. [And yet, I still fail to describe the smile. It's like . . . sunlight compressed, and the literal brightness replaced with the brightness of emotion . . .] This is the smile I seek to find, the light that I wish to witness. [For now, I am satisfied. Life is good. My sisters have turned out well. Father is happy. I'm proud of what I've accomplished.] This is the pride that I wish to feel, the satisfaction that comes of giving. [Such is the nature of joy.] Is this what I really want? [Such is the nature of joy.] This is the me I wish . . . *** 11/08/1995 [Ranma - the machine] Time passes like wind and mist . . . How long has it been? Hours? Days? Weeks? Maybe months? I can't tell exactly. I can remember now. I've retaken my mind. Akane. Friendship . . . and the pain of chaos . . . It's been exactly a month since I regained my memory. I'm happy because I've learned to do something new. I can build another me within my own mind. I can now work on four or five different fronts at once. Getting the vital organs back online comes first, of course. I've retaken the cells of most of them, but some damage has been done. I know now what Cologne meant when she said that I'd cease to exist if I didn't work quickly enough. Flesh has a tendency to deteriorate when cut off from the system of the body. Regeneration . . . I'm not really working right now. Or rather, I am, because the other me's that are working are me, too. That's besides the point right now. I'm thinking . . . Is this really what I want? Yes. At least up until I finish retaking my body and fixing it up. But the next step . . . Akane's door. A - ka - ne. I've come this far. I haven't lost my mind to the challenge of regaining my body yet. I'm surprised that I've been able to retake my mind without going mad . . . I've relived every second of it, every memory, every dream . . . Mother. I remember your face now . . . You look like me when I'm a girl, except that you're much more mature than I am. I wish I knew you. I wish that I were like you . . . And I remember that promise. That stupid, stupid promise that I didn't even remember up until now. I wish that I didn't remember it . . . You won't hate me, will you? You won't really kill me because part of me is a girl? You won't, will you? I know that you were horrified when Oyaji wrote up that stupid promise thing. I know that you told him you wouldn't put your own child to death. Have you changed? You haven't changed, have you? I hope you haven't. I don't want you to have to kill me. I can die for you at any time you wish, but I don't want *you* to want to kill me . . . Because part of me is a girl. Mind and body. It's one of the things I've learned. There's really no line between what a person wants to be and what a person is. The only difference is knowledge. Part of me wants to be like Kasumi. She's a sort of a role model for me . . . I know how to be like her. I know what it is to be like her because I've observed her going about on her business. It's just that up until now, I've never remembered doing it. I have her skills. I can cook everything she can, and I can keep the house clean, and I know the house just like she does, and I can support my family if I lost a mother . . . And I would always be happy if people just treated me like they do her. They don't. I mean, she has to be stressed out, too. I know it. I've seen it on her face. She's so strong . . . I'll be strong, too . . . I . . . really hate to say this, but I've just found out something . . . Akane loves me. I . . . never really noticed before. Yeah, I mean, I like her, but . . . I just want to be her friend. I don't want her loving me. Friendship is enough. I just want a friend. One. That's enough if I can't get any more. It doesn't have to be Akane. I don't wanna be friends with her, if possible. It'd hurt her to know that I don't love her back for what emotions she has for me. But . . . But, will it hurt her more if I just leave? I've hurt her too much already . . . And what of Ukyou and Shampoo? Shampoo's just bound to me by law . . . not to mention, her lust . . . she'll grow out of it. Ukyou . . . I'm not the little boy you once knew. Can you accept who I am now? Help me, mother. What can I do? Akane . . . *** 11/08/1995 [Ranma - the machine] The tear came from his eye. Cologne watched as it rolled down the side of his face and on to the ground. Emotions . . . Would he last this part? Probably. He was making good progress. What of the next? She knew that part of him would probably die. It was the way the technique was designed. Was he strong enough to survive it? "Akane . . ." The emotions would have to go. *** 11/30/1995 [Ranma - the machine] Ranma opened his eyes slowly. "You're awake, Ranma," said Cologne. He stared up at the ceiling of the cave. "Yes," he said. "I'm awake." Cologne smiled briefly. "Are you ready for the next part?" "No . . . not yet. Give me some time. I need to think about a few things." Cologne eyed him. Yes, he did deserve some rest. "Alright, but don't take too long. I'll be back with some food in half an hour. Be ready." Ranma didn't respond. Cologne left him on the floor. "Is this really what I want?" he asked himself. When she returned, he had gone. *** 12/04/1995 [Cologne - the ice] Four days. It's been four entire days. Ninety-six hours and he has not returned. I can imagine why. He's afraid of losing his emotions. He's afraid of losing his emotions for her. It's her. It has to be her. She's the only name Ranma spoke out loud during the entire Wind and Mist training. Akane. She's the one preventing him from accepting this technique. I'll get her out of the way. Anything goes, eh? Anything goes it is. Tendo Akane. *** III: Recall Points: 1) The subject has failed to comply with the expectations of the process. A recall sequence is necessary before the subject can enter the Emotional Control Sequence. 2) A. will be instrumental to recall process. Data currently available for H's process will be evaluated and accelerated to prepare A. for encounter with subject. 3) The subject's survival rate is currently projected to be 75%. Given the subject's survival, the recall process will be complete. *** 12/21/2011 [the mother] "And then? What happens after he leaves the demons?" "Well, do you really wanna hear it? It's kinda late, almost your bedtime." "Mommy! There's an hour left before nine o'clock!" The mother laughed. "Hm-hmm, when did you learn to read the clock, Shinta-chan?" "The teacher taught us last week," the child said, gleefully. "Is that so?" the mother pouted. "C'mon, tell me the rest of the story." "Okay, okay . . ." *** my mother who i've seen not exists not my mother who i know not has face not my mother who is gone now was here not my mother who birthed me did birth not my mother who is not is . . . sister, mother of my heart *** 12/02/1995 [Happosai - the yasha-ou] Happosai felt someone's presence appear on the roof behind him. He turned his attention away from the city nightline. "Hello, Happosai." "So you've come crawling back to me, Ranma." ". . . Yes." "I take it the training didn't go well." "No . . . it went well. I just couldn't do it anymore." "What made you leave?" "You . . . Do you know about the pressure point attack called the Blizzard Fist?" Happosai widened his eyes. "You can't mean . . . No, she would never do that. You can't mean that it's part of her training process?" Ranma nodded. "So . . . you escaped before she could use it on you?" "Yes." "Does she know what she's doing!? The Blizzard Fist burns out a person's emotions! Most people go mad when they get hit! It's forbidden, even for me!" "I know. She told me. She said I could survive it with my sanity intact using the Wind and Mist technique that she taught me." "She taught you that too!?" "Yes." Happosai sank to his knees. "Dear Traci Lords, I've underestimated how far she would go. If I knew she'd do something like this, I wouldn't have let you go to her. Those techniques . . . they were the reason martial arts fell from its original status in the first place. I can't allow this . . ." Ranma turned. "Don't blame yourself. It was my choice. I have to face the consequences. I just came to see how you all were . . ." He took a step. "I'm going back to tell her I cannot accept her school." And he began to leave. "No, wait! Don't go!" Ranma stopped. "Why?" "Because you won't return." "The Wind and Mist technique will protect me if she tries anything." "You have too much faith in yourself, boy. Don't you think she knew that?" "Yes, but . . ." "I know what you're gonna say, boy. The Blizzard Fist is the only attack she can successfully use against you, and you have protection, right? It doesn't matter. Yeah, the Blizzard Fist won't harm you physically. You'll even retain your sanity. You've forgotten one thing. You won't be the same person anymore. You won't be Ranma." "I can block pressure point attacks." "And then she'll just keep trying until she hits you." "I . . . I can't back down." "You can't go and face her!" "What am I gonna do, then?" Happosai looked back to the city. "Just wait. I'll think of something." Ranma didn't see the smile. *** Yes, play the kind one. Be nice to him. She mustn't get him again. *** 12/06/1995 [Kasumi - the mist] "Akane?" asked Kasumi from the stairs. No answer. Strange. Akane usually wasn't late for dinner unless something happened. "Akane?" And nothing had happened since Ranma had left to train, all those months ago. Well, other than the regular visitors coming to ask if Ranma had returned. "Akane? Are you there?" No answer. Kasumi made her way down the hall to Akane's room. Was the girl sleeping? Once more . . . "Akane? Are you alright?" Silence. Kasumi opened the door. Eyes widened. "Oh, my." Shreds. Debris. Chaos. There was almost nothing recognizable within Akane's room. It was like . . . it was like someone had released a whirlwind made of knives inside . . . And there was no sign of Akane. A page torn from a translation of an old Chinese martial arts novel drifted to the floor. A breeze entered from the open window, and the pages of a mythology textbook flipped . . . Kasumi took a step back. *** 12/07/1995 [the beast] Hence speaks the Beast . . . Boreas of the North: Cold, clean, purifying. Zephyros of the West: Wild, dry, uncontrolled, corrupting. Notus of the South: Warm, humid, gentle, calming. Eurus of the East: A soft breeze . . . They are the Forgotten, the ones who have been forgotten by Death, by Time, and by the World. They are the messengers of another Age. They are the Dragons, the Just, the ones for which the Winds blow. They are the ones who Choose. "And the master told the student, 'You must face your final task. You must be put to the test.'" As it was written in the book I was reading before the Blizzard. What was the title again? I can't remember . . . it is part of what was lost. "And he said, 'Only then shall you be worthy to receive the title that you have strived to earn.'" And maybe then I shall truly get what I've strived for. Understanding. Complete and whole understanding. "And the student asked of his master, 'Shall I face the Eighteen?'" Shall I? The eighteenth? The boy who was once better than me? The one who left months ago to train to become the best? Shall I? "And the master answered. 'Yes.'" Yes. Only then shall the door to the eighteenth be open. When the door is open, the Blizzard will end, and I shall be free. I shall be free forever. Forever free of this darkness. I will reenter the world of Day. Until then . . . I am trapped . . . Have you seen it lately? The restaurant of the cats? There are many cats there now, because they like fresh meat . . . No, of course you haven't. There's a certain blurriness to it now that wasn't there before. And a sort of a darkness, and a stench of blood. You can't really see it . . . You can't even look at it for very long before your eyes begin to fill with tears. Maybe this is what they mean when they say "looking painful?" Maybe. The old lady who owned it closed the shop after telling her granddaughter to go train for several days. They're martial artists, see. The front door hasn't opened since. And now . . . now, there's something wrong . . . ~It is a circle of dirt, the only part of the room not covered with the remains of the dead.~ ~IT sits at the center.~ ~This place was once a place of happiness.~ ~Now it has been stained with the blood of innocents.~ Everyone has a favorite number. Mine is thirty-six. What's yours? Thirteen, because you wanna be freezing cold? Ten perhaps, like the number of sephira on the Caballic Tree of Life? Or maybe seven, like the Seven Deadly Sins? Three? The number of Fates? Four? The number of Death? The final Horseman? Or maybe, just maybe, you're into Buddhist mythology, and you like the number eighteen because that's the number of Guardian Monks the Buddha had? Oh, don't you know about them? The Eighteen Guardians, each from a different walk of life, each representing a different aspect of the natural way. They guarded the Buddha, yeah? Well, okay. So they're not common knowledge. See, think about them like this. They're metaphors, not real people. They exist only as parallels to the different aspects of life, yeah? Since the Buddha *is* the ultimate way of life, the idea is, you pass through all these aspects, and you get to him when you're through. They're like gates. Or gatekeepers. Or whatever. The story goes, in the old Shaolin temples, you had to pass through one final test before you could attain any high status. What was it? Yep, you guessed it. The Trial of the Eighteen Bronze Men. Three guesses for the reason behind the number. And yet, those old Shaolin Monks knew a bit of the truth. Eighteen is a trial everyone has to face. Some people take the number more seriously than others . . . What's your favorite number? Two days ago . . . Yes, it was two days ago . . . Or was it eighteen? Eighteen. Eighteen years. One more year to go. One more thing to do. One more person to destroy. Then . . . the sky. Eighteen years till freedom. One more person before eighteen. Seventeen perfectly normal people who didn't know me till I met them. Seventeen people who died at my hands. Seventeen people who are now within me, part of me forever. One more person to go before the circle is complete. One more before I become the master. One more before my nest is finished. The egg cracks . . . Is this how Kuno feels? It is the year nineteen-hundred and ninety-five. Eighteen years till the freedom that comes of maturity. Maybe . . . the ancient dragon arises from the deep to hatch its egg . . . The egg of the ancient dragon . . . Is it hatching? . . . enlighten . . . elighten . . . eighten . . . eighteen . . . Ranma is the final door. Ranma is the key to the lock. Eighteen years till the choice. Life. Happiness. Is the child stillborn? The choice. The child has died. Cologne. She's the one. She gave me the *other* key. She gave me the Blizzard. I cut my finger on the needle my mother gave me. The blood flowed out. It was black. The yasha lives. This is my body and soul. ["Happy birthday, Kasumi."] ["Thank you, Akane."] ["Where're you gonna go now, one-san? College, maybe? I heard that your exam scores were good enough to get you into Tokyo U."] ["Nabiki! Teasing isn't nice. You know I need to take care of Father. I can't just leave him alone and run off to college."] Teasing. Nabiki always teases. Kasumi . . . she's the one who showed me the eighteenth. She's the one who told me about the lock on the door. The choice of freedom. "What is parenthood?" "Living, loving and caring." "What is childhood?" "Seeing, exploring and understanding." The meaning of names is a rather interesting thing to ponder. Don't get me wrong, though. It's not interesting because a lot of names have interesting meanings, though that *is* part of it. It's interesting because people rarely ever think about the meanings of names beyond face value. Here's one. "To" - East. "Fu" - Wind. East Wind? Or take the name Tendo, for example. It's made up of the two kanji that mean "sky" and "path," respectively. Of course, like most kanji and Chinese characters, both "ten" and "do" have their own various meanings beyond "sky" and "path." "Ten" is the sky and everything about it. It means "heaven," it means "God," and, if taken on a more metaphoric level, it means "what is right," or "what is natural." "What has been there from the start." As for "do," it's the same character the Chinese who invented it use for Tao, meaning the "way" and everything that may be thought of as a "way." The Path of the Sky? The Way of Heaven? Yes, both are meanings the name Tendo can take on. It can also mean "the way of nature," "the way things have been from the start," "the way things should be," or of course, "the natural law." The natural law . . . "There it is, Prometheus. Anything else?" "I've played my trump. Have you played yours?" "The Butt of it, yes. A slight change here . . ." You cannot change the way of nature. Water is the source of life, and water flows in only one direction. Down. the madness has claimed me static is flowing into my eyes my ears and out through the jagged maw in the neither regions of gray at the edge of the darkness that is the blizzard the sound is static static electricity I hear with my eyes and my tongue and it tastes wonderfully like the thing that claims my heart for the night and the cold they say the presence of the dead comes with coldness womanizing pervert hugging shampoo and eating her food why can't you eat my food is my cooking really that bad i try i really do ive learned how to make curry taste good why why why please i just want to be nice to you why do you hafta be a baka why are you so good at making me mad why do you hafta do all those stupid things why cant you understand me why do you hafta be a womanizing pervert why do you change into a girl Why? how come you can learn all those weird special attacks and cow home can you nearly fall these wired special antics why are you what you are why can you open the door its a door that i cannot seen but i want to cuz its what i need to do to be like you why did you go on that trip to get better but youre the best but im not i need to become the best and the training trip is what is going to make me become what i want to for me on the other hand, it's the Eighteen that will be the door that will open when i become the best open the door close the world open the door for when it is open I shall see through the window and look at the sky and then ill be free smile for you are free yet i am not i want to be free just like you are right now you are my key to freedom you are my window the final door haha you mist me do what you want to do i feel sad i feel mad I'm falling save me im going to die Falling . . . Falling . . . Falling . . . Clouds, wind, mist, rain, tears, blue sky, and the sun . . . Falling . . . The sky is falling down . . . blue sky sky blue its all the same to me so long as i can become free like you i need the Eighteen three and three is nine and two is Eighteen and two is thirtysix and three is one hundred and eight one hundred and eight sins and evil thoughts and deeds done on new years eve cuz the night ends and the day begins anew like they said the darkest hour is that before dawn like they said in that video game what was it called ghost in the shell that isn't out and I haven't played yet just like me for i am dead but i am alive the walking dead a ghost and the shell that is my body is all that is left of me in this dark dark world the darkest hour is that before dawn and when the darkness becomes the darkest the light shall come and i shall be free the darkness is coming i see the door close the door open the next or was that world from what anime was it again something on wowow or was it of tokyo television that i never watched because it wont be on for a few years something about the sound of bells or was it laying down serial numbers experiments ideas freedom things saotome ranma you are the one who is free and he who shall be chained because you are who you are by death and the chains of sin that is hell for i am the beast that is called the dragon and has led the world astray in the book of revelations by a heretic called saint john the divine and in a novel by a chinese author named gu long This is all mumbo-jumbo and wanting to be interesting and freezing cold, is it? Threads and masturbation? No. "And the dragon stood on the shore of the sea. And I saw a beast coming out of the sea. She had ten horns and seven heads, with ten crowns on her horns, and on each head a blasphemous name." "The beast I saw resembled a leopard, but had feet like those of a bear and a mouth like that of a lion. The dragon gave the beast her power and her throne and great authority." "One of the heads of the beast seemed to have had a fatal wound, but the fatal wound had been healed. The whole world was astonished and followed the beast." - Revelation of John, 13:1-13:3. The Dragon and the Chimera. Guardians of the dream. {I can't do this this isn't right what would Kasumi think? Kasumi. Bitch. Stupid friggin bitch that doesn't understand what it is she has. close the world txen eht nepo} {It's already happened I've turned into a monster and I love it cuz it feels so great to eat the dead they are my food clothes home water bed lovers and dogs cuz three is one and one is three.} {Worthy am I not worthy I know more than you you stupid bitch son of a friggin bastard good for nothing tomboy pervert idiot baka. I'm saying whatever you think I'm saying. You interpret. Puns are intentional. Jokes are mine. Stupid Bitch. Whore good for nothing I'm a whore now and it'syou're your friggin fault cuz if it weren't for you I wouldn't enjoy blood so much you defiled me you bitch son of a.} {I want you. I need you. But . . . you don't seem to understand . . . a shame. You seemed an honest . . .} {If it weren't for you I'd be free I'd be good a little nice little cute virgin that's really nice and doesn't mess around with dead bodies that I like doing cuz I'm a blood drinking whore.} {When I'm eighteen I'll be free and I'll be nice like Kasumi or I would have been if you bastard bitch hadn't stepped into my friggin life you're going to die now you'll be the eighteenth of my little collection until I become heir to happosai the little not so perverted as me freak I am the most disgusting person but I love it cuz it feels good to be what I've always never wanted don't want to be.} {Bitch you don't know what you have and how much I used to still want it!!! cuz you're a stupid bitch!} {You bastard bitch Ranma baka will be the eighteenth birthday years old days I will be the eighteenth you are the eighteenth bronze dead monk corpse that is here in the Nekohanten where that bitch Shampoo lives but doesn't anymore cuz this is my nest lair home morgue tomb death circle of life.} {Fucking old bat bitch why'd she do this fucking evil stupid damn screwed thing to me called the Blizzard? I love her for it.} {You are the eighteenth eighteen one plus seventeen eight and ten.} Gu - the character means "ancient." Long - the character means "dragon." Gu Long - "ancient dragon." Gu Long - Cologne? In the old days, people used to think that the sky was a huge dome. They thought that if they went high enough, or far enough across the sea, they would eventually reach it. They thought that mists were clouds that came down to the earth when the dome of the sky was lowered, and that when mists were around, you could touch the sky if you just reached up high enough. Mists were respected. And feared. And everyone knew one thing. You should never walk in the mist. Never. Why? Cause you might touch the sky by accident. Nobody should ever touch the sky by accident. You go mad if you do. For on the other side of the dome of the sky . . . . . . is Heaven. And they used to say that harmless old crazies all have a little piece of Heaven in them. Now you know why . . . Where am I? I'm lost. Help, Ryouga. Help. Ranma . . . Where are you Ranma? Where did you go? Why have you gone? Why are you coming back? Why are you going to die? Because of him, me. I am alone, in the shadow of myself. I am not lost. I am dead. The one who was me is no more. Only a yasha remains. Hate. Hate. Him. Don't think about him. "It hurts . . . no!!" I can't do this. What would Kasumi think? But it no longer matters. She is no longer my sister. I have been defiled. I am no longer a virgin. "Get away from me! I haven't done anything to you!" How hard is it to get someone to understand you? "Get away!! Don't come near me! I'm warning you!" Understanding. It's perhaps the hardest task to achieve in the world. "My leg! Someone help me! Please! Anyone!" How can I tell you? How can I make you understand? "No, please! Don't hurt me!" Words aren't enough. Actions only do half the job. What is it that I can do to make you understand me? What is the language that I need to speak? What is the thing I have to do? How can I say this? "Mommy!" I'm insane, aren't I? I'm not one person anymore. That I am alone is a lie. I am not alone. I have myselves to keep me company. I am not one. "I . . . please, let me go . . ." Humans are all interconnected. No man is an island. But . . . are the connections really enough for one person to understand another? Can you be me? Can you hear the screams that echo in my heartbeats? Can you see through the blood that stains my eyes? You hafta make the connection. "I . . ." Can you understand me? I want you to know how I feel. I want you to feel my joys and my pains. Everything about me. "Please! I haven't done anything to you!" Honesty. I love you . . . Ranma. I want you to know, I want you to see into my being. I want you to see the essence of my soul. "No, don't!" Don't leave me. Please, I beg you. Don't leave me, Why can't we all just live peacefully and be happy? Why? All I ever wanted was for you to understand me. Have I driven you away? Did I do it? Am I the reason? Don't leave me! "Leave me alone, you monster!!" Can you understand me, Ranma? Can you understand what it's like? Can you understand the pain of losing a mother? . . . And losing a sister? . . . And losing . . . you. Losing to you. I don't want to lose. Do I want to win? "You're the Yasha?!" Look into my eyes, Ranma. See me for what I am. See me for why I want you. Maybe then, you'll understand me. Maybe then, I'll understand you. Maybe then . . . Maybe then, the window will be open. Maybe . . . "Let me go!!" Understand me. Look through the glass. Open the window. See the sky. "Why? Why are you doing this to me?!" The blue, blue sky, empty of clouds, empty of mist, empty of wind. See the sun. "I hate you!! You fucking monster!" Do you understand what it's like to be stuck in the never-ending Blizzard? Do you know what it's like to be raped a million times by a dark reflection of yourself? By another you? To be penetrated by the darkness of the night? The darkness that is the very fabric of the thing I used to so innocently call Fear? Do you? Do you? Saotome Ranma. I love you. I wish I could understand you. 1 . . . It's so cold . . . 2 . . . I need something warm to wear . . . 3 . . . Something nice . . . 4 . . . Something soft . . . 5 . . . Where am I . . . 6 . . . I don't know . . . 7 . . . It's so cold . . . why is it so cold? Four . . . 8 . . . I think I'm freezing to death . . . 9 . . . I wanna sleep . . . 10 . . . The numbness spreads . . . 11 . . . The shawl of red that is my blanket . . . 12 . . . I must remain awake . . . 13 . . . I shall be crucified on a cross of ice . . . 14 . . . A frozen waste . . . 15 . . . I'm tired, and cold, and hungry . . . 16 . . . I need to hunt . . . 17 . . . I need a prey to hunt. Eighteen . . . 18 . . . Humanity. A Chinese martial arts novel by the classic author Gu Long (a short man with a short life, lots of emotions, and all the imagination in the world). A man with four faces, four masks. The one who tells the stories. Some of them are true. Shi. Death? Four? Happiness? Happiness. Happiness. The word that characterizes the lord of the yasha. I have been born unto it. I am no longer who I used to be. Rebirth. Happiness. The feeling that comes at the climax, at the orgasm that accompanies the sweet taste of blood, that continues forever into the light of eternity. Happiness of being free. Happiness of knowing what I truly am. The best of the best. Such is His power. Happiness and glee at the pain of my prey. Blood is the red of the earth, and the red of my heart. Read my mind. Nu. Anger. Anger at what I was. Anger at the weak little girl who knew nothing. Anger at what I am now. Anger at the only monster that is more disgusting that Happosai. Anger at what this monster has done to seventeen innocent people. Anger that the fact that the monster is me. Anger at Ranma for leaving us to train. Anger at all the people that don't understand me and my feelings. Hatehatehatehatehatehate. Damn you! Why can't you understand? I have raped myself. You. You are the source of chaos. You are the catalyst. You are the instigator of confusion. Why do you do it? Why? Why does everyone have to pay for your actions? Why can't . . . why can't you just control yourself? Anger at Ukyou, for being Ranma's friend. At Shampoo, for being better than me in every way except sensibility. Anger at Ranma's father, for being a bastard. Anger at Ranma, for being a dope. Anger at Ryouga, for being lost. Anger . . . at Kasumi, for understanding, but failing to understand . . . I envy her. Happy eighteenth birthday. She's the one who turned the freedom down. The one who was above the freedom, so far above that she didn't need it. Hate. I hate her for that. Why did she do it? Doesn't she understand? Mist. . . . at Tofu, for being there, but not being there. Wind. Ai. That which the beast calls at the heart of the world. Love? I? Pain? Pain. Pain. Regret. Sadness. The feeling that comes of comprehending the inhumanity of my actions, the vileness of the lusts that currently possess me. The feeling that comes of understanding that I will never fully understand it ever again. Pain that I have become like this. Why have I become like this? Why? What have I done to deserve this? Two days ago, I was just a normal girl. Now, that girl is dead. Where has she gone? Is she me? Is she still even within me? I hate myself. I hate the way I am right now. Pain that I must remain this way until I kill Ranma. Pain that I must kill Ranma. Pain that I can't fully understand why I'm going to kill Ranma. Pain that I know Ranma will come. Do you understand, Ranma? Do you? Do you truly and absolutely understand me? Understand my pain? Why can't everything just be alright? Why? Why can't you understand me? I want you to. I want you to know. I want you to live through what I have. I want you to understand why I've made the choices I have . . . I want you to know what kind of monster I've become. I want you to know what drives the monster . . . I don't want to live anymore . . . I don't want to die. And pain that he can't win. I'm the best of the best. Pain. Luh. The other happiness. The short-termed one. The one that ends at the end of the orgasm, doesn't go on. Pleasure. I enjoy this. I truly do. I enjoy this a lot . . . Shi, Happiness of the freedom she gave me; Nu, Anger that she defiled me; Ai, Sadness at what I am; Luh, the Pleasure of killing. (Who is she?) Eyes are the windows of the soul. No window is ever fully open. There's always glass. You have to be content with looking through the glass. Once the glass is broken, the person is no more. Neither is the observer. That is what prevents understanding. The glass on the windows of the soul. Is there a way to open the window? Is there a way to remove the glass without breaking it? Is there a way I can get you to understand me? Is there a way I can do it without destroying who I am? Is there a way you will not combine with my essence? This is the tale of many failures. Saotome Ranma, number eighteen. *** 12/06/1995 [Ranma - the machine] "Do you see the points?" asked the voice in the dark. Is this really what I want? "Yes," answered Ranma, eyes closed. Yes. I cannot imagine life without emotions. It'd be pointless. I would have no reason to live. "What are they?" And yet, I would not be able to die. I wouldn't allow myself, for it takes emotions to be able to do that. "Each is a nexus of my soul." By destroying the pressure points necessary to cause the Blizzard, I would be forever free of fears of falling into it. But . . . "Good, good. Now, are you willing to pay the price?" Am I willing to pay the price? Pressure points dissipate like wind and mist after a storm when a person gains control of their functions. The only difference is, they don't come back. Most of mine have already disappeared. These . . . If I take control of these functions, I will control my emotions. But then . . . But then I'll have to simulate every one. Emotions are a flaw. Cologne taught me that. They cause people to do things irrationally, lose control . . . I want to control my emotions. I don't want to lose them. Am I flawed? No. I am not. I am not flawed. I am whole and complete. It's the self-imposed burning away of emotions that makes a person flawed. Only then would a person be incomplete. Is this what I really want? "Ranma? Answer me." Yes. No. I don't know. Is this what I really want? "Ranma." "Yes." *** 12/21/2011 [the mother] " . . . and the Holy Person took the girl that the Samurai knew from his village." "Why'd she do that?" "Because, Shinta-chan, the Holy Person thought that her presence would hinder the Samurai's training." "What does hinder mean?" "Slow down. You know, like the brakes on the bicycle slow it down? Well, the Holy Person thought that the girl would slow the Samurai down, so she took her away." "How would the girl slow the Samurai down?" "She wouldn't, actually. The Samurai didn't actually know her that well, but the Holy Person thought that he was in love with her. If he really was in love, it would have taken his attention away from the training." "Nothing bad happened to the girl, right?" The mother hesitated for a moment, as if she had forgotten the story. "No, nothing bad. The Holy Person wouldn't do anything bad to anyone." "Why?" "Well? Hmm . . . Because she was a Holy Person." "Oh." *** 12/06/1995 [Kasumi - the mist] "Unmanly coward! The stupid boy has escaped from his training. No man would do that!" Nabiki didn't notice the shadow that appeared behind her as she looked into her sister's room. She didn't notice as it moved beside her, and then in front of her. She didn't notice when it came into plain sight. "Noooooo! The schools will never be joined now!" "Father, please stop crying." It wasn't because she was too caught up in emotions to notice. She knew that Ranma would return to save Akane. He always did. "Where is the boy anyway?" "Cologne seems to think he returned here." But where was he? He had left months ago to train with Cologne. From the contents of the letter, it was obvious he'd parted with her somewhere along the path. Where was he now? Why did Cologne think that he had returned here? "My little baby's gone! Noooooo!" Nabiki didn't notice the shadow reading the letter. She didn't notice the tear that dropped into debris. And then the shadow was gone. *** deus ex machina Mist is welcome. So are Seas. New Latin,: a god from a machine (translation of Greek: theos ek mEchanEs) 1) a god introduced by means of a crane in ancient Greek and Roman drama to decide the final outcome 2) a person or thing (as in fiction or drama) that appears or is introduced suddenly and unexpectedly and provides a contrived solution to an apparently insoluble difficulty Striving to leave the wilderness You become part of what's wild. Striving to cease grasping Is in itself grasping. How does one gain control beyond desire? *** Chapter III: Blizzard "The third part of the Soul of Ice training is the acceptance of the Blizzard Fist. This is not a technique to be learned. The Blizzard Fist is a pressure point attack applied by the teacher to the student. If successful, the student will be locked in her own mind with her greatest fears. She will remain within this state until all of her emotions are burnt away, or until she goes mad. Both of these will allow to student to disrupt her ki flow and break out of the effects of the technique. The Blizzard Fist can only be applied safely after a student has gained control of the mind the Wind and Mist technique gives. Only then will the student be able to retain her sanity . . ." *** 12/21/2011 [the mother] "And the Holy Person said to the Samurai, 'This is the third part of your training.'" "How many are there?" "Only four, Shinta-chan." "So what was the third part?" "The Holy Person challenged the Samurai to a fight to the death." "Oooh, that's bad! But no-one can beat the Samurai, right?" "Right." "He didn't kill the Holy Person, did he?" The mother smiled. "No. He didn't." The child didn't notice the tinge of sadness in his mother's eyes. *** 12/06/1995 To Saotome Ranma: If you wish to see the girl unharmed, you know where to find me. We will continue your training. It is a matter of honor. Cologne *** 12/06/1995 [Ranma - the machine] "The cat is in you now?" asked the voice in the dark. Yes. "That was what you just used, right?" Yes. "You have something to thank your father for, then. See, he's not that big a bastard. None of my students could ever be. Even if they did bury me in that cave." It is a burden. And yes, he is a bastard. That is the only legacy you have. "Ranma, my boy, I'm hurt! How could you say such a thing to your dear old master?" Because you're turning me into a bastard? "Are you implying that I'm not training you well enough?" No. If I were my father's heir, I wouldn't be learning this technique. "Oh . . . hey, boy, I betcha you don't know this." What is it that I don't know? "You're talking like Cologne." A pause. No I ain't. Another pause. "Whatever you say . . . So, what'd Cologne's letter say?" That I am to meet her at the Nekohanten in two days. She has captured Akane, and is holding her there. "You're not worried?" No. I will be there in two days. "You don't think she'd do anything to Akane, right?" It is not to her benefit. "Ahh, but does *she* know that?" I . . . She has to. She's the master of the Soul of Ice. "Okay . . ." Should I be worried? "Don't you know?" No. I haven't learned the appropriate uses of each emotion yet. It used to be so easy. Instinct, almost; I never thought about it. Now . . . I don't know. "What are you going to do?" I'm going to face Cologne and get Akane back. After I do that, I'll . . . "Yes?" I have to end this chaos. I think I know a way. *** 12/06/1995 To whom it may concern, You are cordially invited to the Resolution of Saotome Ranma, at 9:00 AM on December 8th, the Nekohanten. Sincerely, Saotome Ranma *** 12/07/1995 [Ranma - the machine] "Feel it, boy. Feel it all," said the voice in the dark. blank "Use a focus. Take, like . . . Hmm, I'd say love, but you're not the type. How about hate?" hatred "Feel the hate. Feel it." Ihatemyfatherthatfrigginsonofabitchthateatsmyfoodandg otmeengagedwithallofthesecrazywomenwhoIhatebecaus etheymakemylifesohardandconfusingandIreallycan'tstan ditanymorecuzIfeellikeI'mgonnaexplodeandnottomentio nIturnintoastupidgirlthatdoesn'tknowhowtobearealboy "Don't overdo it. You'll waste your energies." I hate . . . I hate . . . I hate . . . "Don't turn it down too low. Can you control it?" I . . . I don't really hate my father. sure, he's a right bastard, but he made me what I am. I can't hate him for that because I can't really hate what I am. I . . . "Good," said the voice. "A new record. Twenty seconds to tone it down." I've had practice. "Is that so?" I had to deal with the nekoken in Wind and Mist. "Hmm . . . More training to go." Yes. * 3 -- The Just -- Ono Tofu & Tendo Kasumi *** 06/28/1990 [Tofu - the wind] "I'm . . . very sorry, Tendo-sensei." Tofu? "Why? Why are you doing this to us?" said her father, voice full of tears. "Why are you leaving us behind?" Nabiki slid herself to the crack between the sliding doors, just enough so she could look in. What she saw confirmed her suspicions. "I just . . . just can't do what you want. My father wants me to take over the clinic . . . It's my duty." "But you're my best student," he sobbed. "I wanted you to be my heir." "But I can't! I'm . . . I . . ." "What about my daughter?" "I love her, but . . . I don't know if she likes me or not. She's really nice to me, but . . . she's like that with everyone." "You can't leave us like this!" "I . . . can't support Kasumi. My family's too poor." "You'll have the dojo. You can teach classes." "But . . . Tendo-sensei, I really can't imagine that in my future." "Why?" "I . . . martial arts is just a hobby to me. I didn't want to dedicate my life to it when I started. I don't want to do it now. I want to help people. As a doctor, I can do that." "But you said you loved Kasumi." "I do . . . I really do, Tendo-sensei." "Won't you even consider her feelings?" "I . . . I'm sorry, Tendo-sensei. I promise I'll come back for her one day. I'll be there for her when she needs me." With that, Tofu kneeled and bowed, his forehead touching the tatami. Nabiki cried silently for her sister. *** 07/04/1995 [Kasumi - the mist] Across the city, there's another girl with two sisters and a father and a mother who's gone away, and she has dreams she wants to make into reality. And she will. There's a world out there I haven't seen, where bread comes in plastic bags marked with the flavor they are, and you can buy thirty-two different types of bubblegum. Girls go out, dress nicely, and have fun shopping together. And there's a place where there is no free space for anything, and everyone walks for four or five miles every day, and things are really expensive, and smoke is everywhere. There's men waiting on trains to feel up unprotected women, and there's gangs of teenagers willing to extort money with violence. And that girl? She's going to go out into that terrible world, and she's going be free and happy. She's not me. I don't want to be her. There are times when my sister looks at me when she thinks I'm not paying any attention. It's a sort of a sad look. I think I know what she's thinking. She's thinking about what I've given up for her and Akane. She doesn't understand, not really. She thinks it's sad that I've deprived myself of the joys of life to give them a chance at a normal childhood. It's not true. I haven't deprived myself of anything. I'm living life as I want to live it. I'm doing what I want to do. It's not a duty. It's simply the way things should be. Someday, when I've finished all that is needed to be done, I'll leave this place, and go out. I'll find out what my true destiny is then. For now, I am satisfied. Life is good. My sisters have turned out well. Father is happy. I'm proud of what I've accomplished. Such is the nature of joy. *** There's always three. It doesn't matter what they look like, and they don't really need names. They're always there. Course, they're different from each other; if they were the same, who could tell them apart? Hafta be different. They have to be different from each other. It's part of who they are. But . . . Who are they, then? Ha. Caught 'ya. They don't have names, see. Seriously, though. Their identities are simple. The first is the one who holds the thread and pulls it out. The second measures, and the third one cuts. That's who they are and what they are. Past, present, and future. You *could* always view them as a metaphor. Pulling the thread, for example, might be viewed as a symbol of nurturing and providing. But . . . that would be misleading, to say the least. They do exist, and they do so in a very real sense. They simply don't exist embodied and personified. They're everywhere, and are present in anyone. Hundreds of years ago, they were three men, bound to each other by a blood oath born of an agreement made in a peach grove. Go back a thousand, and they were three woman who tended a tree. Yet another, perhaps, and they would have been known as the kindly ones, the walkers of the mist. Every age envisions them in a different form. Only one thing's always the same. The first one draws the thread of life . . . The second measures and calculates . . . And the third . . . the youngest . . . she draws the knife and cuts . . . *** 07/04/1995 [Tofu - the wind] Mrs. Yamazaki, aged seventy-eight. A nice old lady who spends most her time taking care of her house. Amazingly healthy. Others would probably be annoyed with her. "Lady," they'd say, "you're healthier than most twenty-year-olds. You really don't need a check-up every two weeks." And then she'd reply, "At my age, you never know." And she'd be right. Old people tend to be. Either that, or they're being stubborn. Most times, it's hard to tell the difference. But, I'm wandering here. I was saying . . . I like my job . . . I *like* working with her, her and all of my other regulars. She chats with me while I do my thing, tells me jokes and gossip and whatnot. And when I'm done, she smiles this really nice smile. I feel right. This is what I should be doing. I seem to remember that, in the composition classes I took back in high school, the instructors would always tell me to "show and not tell." It's vital, they said, that a writer is able to demonstrate a concept or an emotion without having to simply resort to telling what he thinks to the reader. It's a matter of skill, they said. At the time, the concept was beyond me. I had no knowledge of the intricacies of literature, and consequently, my score suffered. Literary masturbation, I'd call it. Writing to see how well you can write . . . simply for pleasure. The most fun anyone can have by themselves, says Pratchett, the interesting writer that he is . . . Now, years later, I find myself wishing I'd studied a little harder. Maybe I can retake the class in night school? Nah . . . I don't need it that bad. I simply wish . . . I wish I could tell someone else of my joy. I wish I could describe the smile I get for what it is. I *can* describe it. Just not very well. It's not a lover's smile. Me being in love with an old lady like her just isn't right. It's not simply a happy smile, because she's obviously not simply happy. Dare I say that, in ignorance of the concept of modesty, she's thankful? Getting a little arrogant there, I am. But . . . Yes. And I feel that in guessing as such, I'm justified. And yet, I still fail to describe the smile. It's like . . . sunlight compressed, and the literal brightness replaced with the brightness of emotion . . . Chiropractice is worth the low pay. Such is the nature of joy. *** 12/07/1995 [Tofu - the wind] [And on the news tonight, the Nerima Yasha strikes yet again. The body count is up to fifteen, and the killer is still on the loose. Police officials state that pedestrians should be especially careful tonight . . .] Tofu ignored the television and concentrated on finding the correct place of the old lady's pain. "You know, Tofu-sensei. You shouldn't really be worried about my safety. You should really try to protect that young lady of yours. I mean, with the Yasha wandering about and everything . . ." The old lady turned her head and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. [ . . . seems to strike males and females indiscriminately. The Yasha engages in violent sexual acts before letting the victim . . .] "She's a pretty little thing, that girl. You just make sure she's safe and sound. You don't want some pervert like the Yasha snatching her away, now do you?" "Tanaka-san --" ['I saw the Yasha on that bridge, right over there. The screaming really scared me, and I called the police immediately.' . . .] "Oh, you don't have to thank me for giving you some advice. OW!" "There, that should do it." "A bit lighter next time, Tofu-sensei. My old bones aren't what they were." "Yes, Tanaka-san." *** [December 7, 1995] [Good morning, Tofu-sensei. Did you sleep well last night? I had a good night's sleep, despite the problems. Grandmother Cologne paid us a visit again last night just before dinner, and she took Akane with her this time. I do hope Akane is alright.] [Ranma will take care of her, right, Tofu-sensei? He always does. Such a nice boy. I hope someone has told him about this. Where do you think he's gone?] [I feel worried about them . . .] [I . . .] [I wish I could ask you just to look out for them and tell them to come home if you see them. I know it isn't right asking you to get involved in something that might be dangerous, but . . . I . . .] [I . . .] [I wish you were here with me, right now, comforting me of my paranoia, Tofu-sensei. It's silly, I know. This happens all the time, and Ranma always manages to save Akane . . .] [But . . .] [But it feels different. It feels like something bad is going to happen this time.] [Ranma's not here for Akane . . .] [I . . .] [Help me.] Nabiki closed the diary. *** 12/07/1995 [Tofu - the wind] Tofu locked the door. There wasn't really anything valuable to steal in the clinic, but he liked to do it anyway. He felt safer, knowing that nobody would touch Betty and his books. I wonder if Kasumi is safe? Pause. Yeah, she wouldn't go out at night. She's definitely safe. The Yasha can't get to her at home. Time to get some dinner. Tofu felt a presence pass him. He turned and looked around. Nothing. "What was that? The Yasha?" He shook away the thought. No, couldn't be. If the Yasha were a martial artist, even Ranma would have to be afraid. He continued down the street to the noodle restaurant he knew. I hope that wasn't the Yasha. *** 12/07/1995 [Tofu - the wind] [ . . . body was found in an alleyway early this morning . . . ] "Hey, Tofu." "Hi, Kintaro." [ . . . the left lung was pierced with a knife . . . ] "So, what are you gonna have today?" "The regular." The man smiled and began preparing the noodles. Tofu looked up at the television. Kasumi . . . "You look worried, Tofu," said the man over the sound of the frying oil. "Yeah." [Reports show that the Yasha is . . . ] "Is it that girlfriend of yours?" "Kintaro -- you know she's not my girlfriend! Stop teasing me." "Yeah, yeah. Say what you want. I know you like her. You worried about what the Yasha might do to her?" "Um, yeah." [ . . . 'Judging by the sheer strength the Yasha demonstrates, I'd say it's a man. Probably has a wide frame.' . . .] "And her brave Doctor Tofu will be there to save her, right?" "I don't know if I'd be up to it." "Ha. I remember you used practice judo a few years back. Can't be that rusty. It's like learning how to ride a bike. You never really forget." "Not judo, Kintaro. The Tendo school." [ . . . suspicious men . . .] "Oh, was it? That boy Ranma lives there, right?" "I dunno. I haven't seen him in a few months." "Training or something?" "Yeah." [ . . . Repellants and alarms don't seem to work . . . ] "Done. Your noodles, Tofu." "Thanks." *** IV: Confrontation Points: 1) Confrontation will be held as currently arranged by the subject. 2) The invitation of individuals within the subject's association will provide a high chance of eliminating said association. 3) In executing the elimination, two goals are achieved. First, the subject is alienated from the social ties that bind him from completing this process. Second, H's process is revealed to the subject as being unbeneficial. 4) Given that the above goals are achieved, the subject will return to complete the process on his own. If not, he should be physically weakened enough to be easily subdued. * 4 -- The Mezzanine -- Those who were left behind. *** 12/08/1995 [Nodoka - the sand] In the house of memories, the clocks tick away without abandon, second by second in unison. The sound is not unlike the sound made by the falling of sand in an hourglass, though it might be said to demonstrate more harmony. It is 10:31 PM . . . ten seconds . . . twenty seconds . . . thirty seconds . . . forty seconds . . . fifty seconds . . . It is 10:32 PM . . . A slip of paper is placed gently on to a table . . . There is a game being played, and it continues into the night. It will continue in the darkness, even as faint dreams begin their waltzes hand in hand with the shadows of the past. It will continue in the morning, when the dancers retreat back into the dark recesses of the house. It will continue at noon, and in the afternoon, and in the coming evening. The game is not one that lasts mere minutes. Hours are not enough. Neither are days. This game lasts years and decades. The game has a name: Waiting. On a futon in the center of a dustless room, a woman lies open-eyed, staring at the lightless bulbs on her ceiling. She has done so every night for the past seventeen years, and she knows every crack in the wood above her. Sometimes, tears blur her vision. Saotome Nodoka waits. *** 12/08/1995 [Tofu - the wind] [ . . . This morning, the bodies of the seventeen Yasha victims were removed from the Nerima District Morgue by an unknown person. Police suspect that it may have been the Yasha himself. Murders have ceased . . .] Tofu turned the television off absently while staring at the card Ranma had put into his mailbox. "I'm invited?" he asked no one in particular. "What is it, Tofu-sensei?" asked one of the old men in the waiting room. "Oh, it's nothing. It seems that a friend of mine has invited me to a homecoming party of some sort. Nine o'clock today. You know, Saotome Ranma?" "Saotome, Saotome . . . It's not that boy martial artist, is it?" Tofu nodded. "The one and the same." "From what I've heard, the boy is bad business. You'd be doing your best to stay away from him." "He's not *that* bad, Obayashi-san. It's rarely ever his fault things happen to him." Tofu looked up at his clock. Eight twenty-seven. About half an hour left. He could probably handle another patient before he had to close up. He looked back at Obayashi. "So, Obayashi-san. How's that knee of yours?" *** deus ex machina Mist is welcome. So are Seas. New Latin,: a god from a machine (translation of Greek: theos ek mEchanEs) 1) a god introduced by means of a crane in ancient Greek and Roman drama to decide the final outcome 2) a person or thing (as in fiction or drama) that appears or is introduced suddenly and unexpectedly and provides a contrived solution to an apparently insoluble difficulty Striving to leave the wilderness You become part of what's wild. Striving to cease grasping Is in itself grasping. How does one gain control beyond desire? Open your eyes. The ones in your mind. *** Chapter IV: Final Front "There is a final test . . . an examination in which the master measures the student in her physical skill and mental prowess. There is a duel . . ." *** There is a thought that, upon death, one is punished for his failings in life. One who is wasteful of food, for example, is eternally hungry upon dying. There is a name for the hungry ghost, and the name is gaki. And in the night, and in the rain of tears, the gaki searches . . . *** 12/08/1995 [Mousse - the blind] Four months. It's been four entire months since Saotome left. I've accomplished absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. Hence the question: What am I doing wrong? I mean, quite obviously, it's not entirely Saotome's fault. Part of it is mine. I don't dare go all out with her. But . . . Four months! Four months without a single bit of improvement in our relationship! Just what gives? It's not like I haven't tried. It's ridiculous. It's like Saotome has something I don't. It's disgusting watching Shampoo pine after somebody who doesn't even *try* to please her . . . I've got one chance to do this. Judging by the language used in this note, this is the last chance I'll get before something big happens. Saotome's returned. I'm invited to his "resolution," whatever that means. I have something to ask him, and it's very important. I'm going home. *** In the Garden, there are two Fruits. There is the Fruit of Knowledge, and the Fruit of Life, and they hang ripe off of two opposing branches on the same tree. It is said that the Fruit of Knowledge is the Fruit of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. This is not true. The Fruit of Knowledge does not give bearing to such petty things. It transcends Good and Evil, for such concepts are immaterial and uncertain. The Fruit of Knowledge grants knowledge of only one thing, for it is the Fruit of the Night, and it is in the Night that the hidden things lurk, and all forms are revealed in the Truth of Pure Darkness. The Fruit of Knowledge grants Knowledge of the Truth and the Whole Truth, and nothing but the Truth. The Fruit of Life is the Fruit of the Day, the Fruit of what is obvious and apparent. It might be supposed that given the nature of the Fruit of Knowledge, the Fruit of Life would grant the Knowledge of Lies and Sins, but this is not the case. The opposite of the Knowledge of the Truth is the Knowledge of Innocence, and it is Innocence that comes with the birthing of Life. That which is Innocent does not know the Truth, and hence, cannot Lie. What is obvious and apparent is not always the Truth. The Truth does not come with Life, for it is impossible to live with the Truth. The Truth is painful, and it brings suffering. That is why Truth allows the creation of Lies. They are meant to hide the Truth, and protect Life from the harm Truth might bring . . . *** 12/08/1995 [Ryouga - the lost] I don't know where I am or how I got here. That's normal. But . . . I've this little piece of paper written in really neat handwriting telling me to get somewhere within two hours. Challenge? Maybe. That's normal too. But Ranma? In neat handwriting? That's not normal. Something's horribly wrong. Ranma did *not* send this note. I don't know who sent it, or how this person found me in the middle of nowhere, but I've gotta get to the old hag's place really fast . . . Something's wrong, and I bet Akane's involved. If anything's wrong with her, the honorless bastard's gonna pay. Or whoever it is that sent this note. *** These are the Women of the Evening and the Night. These are the daughters of the one who caused the Fall, and these are ones who live in the shadow of the Great Sin. And yet, what was the Sin but a desire for the Knowledge of the Truth? And what was the Sin but a sacrifice that stained the Eater of the Fruit with the Darkness of Night, only for the painful Knowledge of the Truth? There is a reason they are called the Women of the Night. They, more than any scholar, any priest, or any learned man, have the Knowledge of the Truth that lies in Darkness. They are the ones who have, first-handed, seen the Truth about Life in the shadows of Sin. These are the ones who see the pain that is this world and everything in it. They are shunned for this Knowledge, and they are shunned for the Lies they spin to protect Humanity from this Knowledge. And of all reasons, they are shunned because they dared to say, "I must know." These are the ones whose tears stain every inch of the sky. The Truth is a burden to be carried, and they are the ones who carry it. *** 12/08/1995 [Shampoo - the cat] This morning I received a note telling me to return to the place I have called home for the past few months. The note was written in my native language, but signed in my lover's name, and written formally, in neat handwriting. My lover, to my knowledge, does not understand my language, and I know he does not write so well. I wonder at that. Great-grandmother had me leave home two days ago, telling me she was preparing for a secret ritual. I dared not to disobey her, so I complied. Leaving, I went south, to the place they call Yokohama. It is clean there, a nice place for a vacation, as unexpected as this vacation was. I did not tell anyone of my destination, not even to Mousse or to my Great-grandmother. My lover left with my Great-grandmother on a training trip several months ago, and Great-grandmother has returned without him. I believe he should still be training, for I know he loves the Art beyond anything else . . . that thought saddens me . . . But knowing this, I am assured of one thing. My lover, of all people, should not know where I spent the past few days. And yet, somehow, in a manner that is still beyond my comprehension, someone found me and left me a note. I do not believe my lover is the one who left it. Great-grandmother would not impersonate him, so it cannot be her. Mousse has gone north to visit relatives (or so I believe), so it cannot be him either. Who is it? I am left without conclusion, but I know where I am going. I am going home. *** 12/08/1995 [Nabiki - the night] Hieronymus Bosch. If you don't know who he is, he's this artist from Venice. Died a few hundred years back. I was saying, Hieronymus Bosch is famous. What for? He's famous because his paintings are surreal. I don't think there's anything quite like them anywhere. Not even Dali comes close. The thing about his paintings is that they make no sense. You've got all sorts of people doing oodles of strange, dishonorable, and vaguely impossible things, and they're all standing together in a single picture. Can you say absurd? Yes, you can. But that's only if you look at the entire picture. Bosch obviously didn't. Every character in every single one of Bosch's paintings has a story, and every story, taken by itself, makes perfect sense (with a certain amount of eccentricity). Each painting, then, is a result of all these characters interacting with each other and coming together, entirely by chance. Understandable because they're just people living out their lives, yeah? Got places to go, people to see . . . That, my friends, is still so unlikely as to be nearly impossible. Unless, of course, you take into account the fact that there's someone in the background making things happen. Like Bosch. In real life, though, strange people can't coexist as peacefully as they do in Bosch's paintings. In real life, if you manipulate folks like Bosch did characters, you're building yourself a house of cards. You get a little too high, and it all comes crashing down on you. Tower of Babel, like. Can't touch the sky. Funny I didn't notice it until Akane was taken, but someone's gone a little too far in manipulating people. Who, me? No. I don't manipulate people, no matter what anybody else thinks. I just pressure them and threaten them a bit. It doesn't count as manipulation. Manipulation only counts if the people being pressured don't even know that they're being pressured. My clients know perfectly well what's gonna happen to them. Information is money, after all. I get the feeling that what's gonna happen today isn't gonna be good for business. But I'm going. It's important. My sisters need me. *** 12/07/1995 [Konatsu - the shadow] "She shall not know," he exclaimed to some unseen audience standing in the darkness of the alley. "If she goes, she'll have nothing but pain . . ." Paper crumpled slowly . . . Somewhere, a girl hummed a wordless tune, smiling as she prepared what her customers would eat tomorrow. *** 12/08/1995 [Genma - the gaki] Right now, I'm thinking about the boy. Not to mention lunch. And dinner. And a thousand other little things, all unrelated. The human mind is a wonderful thing. Mostly, though, I'm thinking about how it all ties in with one word. Hunger. There was a time, perhaps, when I wasn't always hungry. When that was, I can't remember. Probably a long time ago. Right now, I don't know . . . Breakfast was tasty, but I'm looking forward to lunch. This desire is ceaseless, without beginning or end. I prefer it like this. It's all about hunger, see? All about craving, all about wanting. Hunger is everything. It's what drives people to do things. It's the fuel on which the world runs. And hunger will never run out, not even if the sky falls. The world will go on forever and ever. Things will get done. That's the way it works. Why am I who I am? Hunger. Why is my life the way it is? Hunger. Why do articles of clothing occasionally vanish in this town? Hunger . . . And why has the boy accomplished so much in his life? You know the answer. The reason is *my* hunger, specifically. My hunger to create a great martial artist. My hunger to create a myth. My hunger for the boy's well-being . . . Sort of. I know that's not exactly true . . . I remember when, as a little boy, I wanted to become a great martial artist. My family was poor, and I had to run away from home to begin my studies. I went alone, without the accompaniment of my father, who I loved dearly, for all his failings. Hunger was with me, even then. I had no money, and I had to eat . . . I got my food, eventually . . . Ultimately, though, my childhood was not something I was happy with. Many was the time wished I had a second chance . . . I was hungry for such a thing. When Nodoka . . . When she gave birth to the boy, it was the happiest day of my life. My hope for a second chance, my craving, my hunger, was to be satisfied. In the light of the birth, I rejoiced. And you know what I did? I gave the boy the childhood I've always wanted myself. It is perhaps the hope of all parents that their children can have the childhood they didn't have . . . A happier childhood than the one they experienced themselves. In all the history of the world, never has any parent fully succeeded. Nobody is perfect . . . My appetite is not yet satisfied, for there is one more thing I must see before I move on to other things . . . I hunger for happiness. Not my own happiness necessarily, but hopefully at least the happiness of the boy. I hunger for a last supper . . . The knowledge of whether or not my sacrifices have come bear fruit, and of who the boy has become. Then, perhaps, my eternal hunger will abate. *** 12/08/1995 [Kasumi - the mist] Kasumi smiled to herself as she looked at the card. Ranma knew. He would be there to save Akane. He was coming home. Everything was going to be all right. *** And one final piece to the puzzle that is this dream . . . *** 12/08/1995 [Teaser - the future] I've seen this fight before. It's not, you know, deja-vu or whatnot. I wouldn't bother to bring this up if it were. I can tell the difference between a memory and a vague impression very well, thank you very much. I'm not senile yet. Fall, a hundred and eight years ago, at the side of a lake in China. Morning, I recall. A cool, windless morning, and a sky without clouds; lands tinted sepia by the seasons, and the sky an unflawed virgin blue. It, to the contrary of what I'd like to say, doesn't seem like just yesterday. It seems like a lifetime ago, and that's exactly where it belongs. I can't bear to remember most parts of the fight, so don't ask. It's too stupid. We were young and foolish back then . . . I can't believe how foolish we were . . . She was hot. Really hot. Better than that Shannen Doherty wench the young folks seem to like so much. Ridiculously hot, you know? Can't really compare any of the kids to her, though some come close. Mind you, this was before the term "hot" was invented. You get the idea. She was the light of my life . . . Never mind that she was a rather reluctant light. I was ambitious. Youth tends to be, in general. I hate to admit it, but I was an ugly little bastard. It was common sense that I'd never get her, and I understood that in full. Didn't prevent me from trying, though. Can't ever give up hope. You die if you do. We fought once previous to the day at the lake, and neither of us had come out a clear victor. I'd wanted to claim her for my wife. She'd wanted freedom. We trained. We sought out hidden masters. We learned forbidden arts. When we came together again, both of us had lost something. The fight at the lake was our second and final rematch. It ends today. *** To Be Concluded in Soul of Ice: deus ex machina [finale] . . .