Ranma, Child of the Sun
(A Ranma 1/2 and Exalted crossover)
by Shea McIntee
Disclaimer: Neither Ranma 1/2 nor Exalted belongs to me. Let's face it; if
I had an idea that successful and that good, I WOULD still be writing this
stuff, but I wouldn't be worrying about where-am-I-going-to-find-next-
semester's-tuition-money; I'd be doing this a lot more, and have a really
nice computer and -
sorry 'bout that.
Notes: I'd assume that everyone reading this is at least moderately
familiar with Ranma 1/2. 'Exalted' is the newest RPG from White Wolf, who
created the "World of Darkness" line of games. This one, however, is set
far back in the mists of time, and seems, in general, to be a lot less
gloomy and depressing then most of the rest of their games can be (hey, if
the world is going to the Wyrm/Technocracy/Gehenna/The Winter...)
Notes the second: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!... I know I should be
working on the stuff that I already wrote... I really AM sorry, but I just
get an idea and want to write it down before I forget... Anyways,
I'll (hopefully) have some more stuff out later today, before I disappear
for Thanksgiving until Sunday (late). I can't guaranteee any postings
during that time, but I think I'll have a sizable chunk of material
(including a full chap 2 of 'An Immortal Love') by the time I get back...
Prologue
Ranma grumbled as he trudged after his father down a steep trail in
the middle of China.
'Middle of nowhere. What's so important about this Jusenkyo place
anyway? It's a training ground. So, big deal. We've been to plenty of
training grounds before, and yet here we are, taking a five-day journey
through the wilderness trying to find this 'Training Ground.' Baka Oyaji!'
He frowned as he noticed his father's pack was far smaller than his
own. Lazy bastard.
Ranma was dressed in a light gray (once-white, really...) dogi, much
like his father's, but without the bandanna Genma used to cover his balding
head. His hair was lightly bound in a small pigtail to keep it out of his
way (and to keep Genma from grabbing it during sparring), and he had a dull
grey (again, once white) belt around his waist to keep his clothes from
flapping around, also tied up, again for the same reason. Genma would do
anything to win a fight, no matter how underhanded. Aside from the pack on
his back, his clothes consisted of the sum of all his worldly possessions.
They'd been walking all day. He was quite used to that... at least
his pop wasn't having him carry him all the way, or holding a large boulder,
or being chased by wolves, or...
He stopped thinking about it. He wasn't complaining, mind you, but
sometimes he suspected that his father never went through what he put his son
through. However, everytime he brought that up, Genma changed the subject
and started calling him a weakling.
It was getting dark out, and they needed to stop soon or else they'd
trip over their feet. He wasn't going to say anything, though. The last time
he mentioned it, his father immediately decided he needed training in blind
fighting, and had him carry him all night, SLEEPING at that, in the dark.
Ranma, though, wasn't bitter. Oh, no. Not irritated at all. Nu-uh.
The dim figure ahead of him stopped and turned.
"Boy, there's a small hut up ahead, so we'll be sleeping indoors
tonight."
"Whaddever you say, pop."
Genma's head swelled up at the cynical tone in his son's voice.
"Insolent boy, you should - "
The sudden crack of thunder and drenching of Genma, who had taken a Pose
of Righteous Wrath in front of the small hut, but not Ranma, who had ducked
inside and now stood, smirking at the wet man, interrupted his speech.
Later, as Genma tried to dry himself off in front of a fire that Ranma
had built, the teen started to explore their temporary shelter. Not very big,
the hut, constructed of stone (unusual for a hut, which were normally much more
perishable) consisted of a single room. The floor was made of stone, and the
ceiling too, with a round hole in the middle which sloped and exited as a kind
of crooked chimney. On the ceiling and walls were faint murals and scenes, and
the floor was etched with geometric designs.
He laid out his bedroll and lay down, his pop still trying to dry his
clothes in front of the fire. He smirked as he closed his eyes and slept.
****
just before the sun crested the horizon, Ranma yawned and woke up. He
looked over at the bulk sleeping nearby. It was rare to not be woken up by his
father, and he found he rather enjoyed it. He wandered outside to practice, and
watched as the the bright disc slowly shoed itself through the trees.
For some reason, today he felt incredibly... alive. It was like he hadn't
been truly living before; every sound, every sight, and every breath of the breeze
seemed much more... real to him. It was... it was...
He gave up, and went inside. It was time for breakfast, and if that didn't
wake his father up, he'd start digging him a grave.
He got out the cooking gear, stoked up the fire, and started to cook rice
and cabbage. As he waited for the smell to get his lazy pop out of bed, he absent-
mindedly traced the lines of the pattern in the floor. It was strangely familiar,
really. He couldn't think where he'd seen it before.
He was so distracted that he didn't notice that the sunlight hadn't gotten in the hut, yet he could see perfectly fine. He didn't notice the glimmering streaks flowing through the floor as he traced the geometric designs lazily. If there was a mirror, he might have noticed his forehead glowing a bright gold reminescent of the sun outside.
As it was, he barely had a time for a startled yelp before a sudden column of light flashed into existance around him and took him away.
Genma was woken up by the smell of breakfast.
'Ahhh... such a good son to have food ready for his hard-working father.'
He opened his eyes only to see his son disappear in a beam of sunlight, leaving behind a faded impression of a stylized sun where his forehead was, which then disappeared likewise. He just stared, still in that dreamy half-awake state where you can calmly accept the existance of anything.
Later he'd panic.
****
Author's Notes: Well, I guess I'll stop here; I have to go to a class now... guess where Ranma's going! (the mark on his forehead's a hint...) Comments welcome, and flames help one keep Jack Frost at bay! deus_ex_mach42@hotmail.com
(A Ranma 1/2 and Exalted crossover)
by Shea McIntee
Disclaimer: Neither Ranma 1/2 nor Exalted belongs to me. Let's face it; if
I had an idea that successful and that good, I WOULD still be writing this
stuff, but I wouldn't be worrying about where-am-I-going-to-find-next-
semester's-tuition-money; I'd be doing this a lot more, and have a really
nice computer and -
sorry 'bout that.
Notes: I'd assume that everyone reading this is at least moderately
familiar with Ranma 1/2. 'Exalted' is the newest RPG from White Wolf, who
created the "World of Darkness" line of games. This one, however, is set
far back in the mists of time, and seems, in general, to be a lot less
gloomy and depressing then most of the rest of their games can be (hey, if
the world is going to the Wyrm/Technocracy/Gehenna/The Winter...)
Notes the second: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!... I know I should be
working on the stuff that I already wrote... I really AM sorry, but I just
get an idea and want to write it down before I forget... Anyways,
I'll (hopefully) have some more stuff out later today, before I disappear
for Thanksgiving until Sunday (late). I can't guaranteee any postings
during that time, but I think I'll have a sizable chunk of material
(including a full chap 2 of 'An Immortal Love') by the time I get back...
Prologue
Ranma grumbled as he trudged after his father down a steep trail in
the middle of China.
'Middle of nowhere. What's so important about this Jusenkyo place
anyway? It's a training ground. So, big deal. We've been to plenty of
training grounds before, and yet here we are, taking a five-day journey
through the wilderness trying to find this 'Training Ground.' Baka Oyaji!'
He frowned as he noticed his father's pack was far smaller than his
own. Lazy bastard.
Ranma was dressed in a light gray (once-white, really...) dogi, much
like his father's, but without the bandanna Genma used to cover his balding
head. His hair was lightly bound in a small pigtail to keep it out of his
way (and to keep Genma from grabbing it during sparring), and he had a dull
grey (again, once white) belt around his waist to keep his clothes from
flapping around, also tied up, again for the same reason. Genma would do
anything to win a fight, no matter how underhanded. Aside from the pack on
his back, his clothes consisted of the sum of all his worldly possessions.
They'd been walking all day. He was quite used to that... at least
his pop wasn't having him carry him all the way, or holding a large boulder,
or being chased by wolves, or...
He stopped thinking about it. He wasn't complaining, mind you, but
sometimes he suspected that his father never went through what he put his son
through. However, everytime he brought that up, Genma changed the subject
and started calling him a weakling.
It was getting dark out, and they needed to stop soon or else they'd
trip over their feet. He wasn't going to say anything, though. The last time
he mentioned it, his father immediately decided he needed training in blind
fighting, and had him carry him all night, SLEEPING at that, in the dark.
Ranma, though, wasn't bitter. Oh, no. Not irritated at all. Nu-uh.
The dim figure ahead of him stopped and turned.
"Boy, there's a small hut up ahead, so we'll be sleeping indoors
tonight."
"Whaddever you say, pop."
Genma's head swelled up at the cynical tone in his son's voice.
"Insolent boy, you should - "
The sudden crack of thunder and drenching of Genma, who had taken a Pose
of Righteous Wrath in front of the small hut, but not Ranma, who had ducked
inside and now stood, smirking at the wet man, interrupted his speech.
Later, as Genma tried to dry himself off in front of a fire that Ranma
had built, the teen started to explore their temporary shelter. Not very big,
the hut, constructed of stone (unusual for a hut, which were normally much more
perishable) consisted of a single room. The floor was made of stone, and the
ceiling too, with a round hole in the middle which sloped and exited as a kind
of crooked chimney. On the ceiling and walls were faint murals and scenes, and
the floor was etched with geometric designs.
He laid out his bedroll and lay down, his pop still trying to dry his
clothes in front of the fire. He smirked as he closed his eyes and slept.
****
just before the sun crested the horizon, Ranma yawned and woke up. He
looked over at the bulk sleeping nearby. It was rare to not be woken up by his
father, and he found he rather enjoyed it. He wandered outside to practice, and
watched as the the bright disc slowly shoed itself through the trees.
For some reason, today he felt incredibly... alive. It was like he hadn't
been truly living before; every sound, every sight, and every breath of the breeze
seemed much more... real to him. It was... it was...
He gave up, and went inside. It was time for breakfast, and if that didn't
wake his father up, he'd start digging him a grave.
He got out the cooking gear, stoked up the fire, and started to cook rice
and cabbage. As he waited for the smell to get his lazy pop out of bed, he absent-
mindedly traced the lines of the pattern in the floor. It was strangely familiar,
really. He couldn't think where he'd seen it before.
He was so distracted that he didn't notice that the sunlight hadn't gotten in the hut, yet he could see perfectly fine. He didn't notice the glimmering streaks flowing through the floor as he traced the geometric designs lazily. If there was a mirror, he might have noticed his forehead glowing a bright gold reminescent of the sun outside.
As it was, he barely had a time for a startled yelp before a sudden column of light flashed into existance around him and took him away.
Genma was woken up by the smell of breakfast.
'Ahhh... such a good son to have food ready for his hard-working father.'
He opened his eyes only to see his son disappear in a beam of sunlight, leaving behind a faded impression of a stylized sun where his forehead was, which then disappeared likewise. He just stared, still in that dreamy half-awake state where you can calmly accept the existance of anything.
Later he'd panic.
****
Author's Notes: Well, I guess I'll stop here; I have to go to a class now... guess where Ranma's going! (the mark on his forehead's a hint...) Comments welcome, and flames help one keep Jack Frost at bay! deus_ex_mach42@hotmail.com