GOOD-BYE
Ranma½ fanfiction
By
Kittyonnails
The girl is sitting on a swing in the park. She
concentrates on the creaks of the metal as she inched forward and
back. She feels as if she is simply floating above the sand, without
the aid of the swing. The cool plastic presses itself into her legs,
numbing them. Her breath leaves little clouds in the January air.
Each one floating upwards while dissolving into the cool air. She
doesn't even notice the clashing of blood against her new green
dress as she lets her short black hair fall into her eyes, getting
stuck in the small cuts that mark her youthful face. She watches the
cloud of breath; as it dissolves, the memories rush back.
The
whole house shakes as if the entire island of Honshu were sinking
into the ocean on the whim of some evil sea kami. Everyone reacts to
the earthquake, finding stable spots in the house. The shaking
continues for much longer than usual. The instant it stops a sound
more horrible and morbid rushes to meet here ears. A little at first,
then large chunks, faster and faster; the ceiling begins to fall. He
turns and shoves her through the paper screen door and into the
garden.
A single tear wells up in her right eye. Like a liquid
diamond, it slowly follows the path of so many before it down her
bloodstained face. She takes another small breath. The cloud
dissolves.
Blood and dust. A moaning sound. She pushes aside
the beam to reveal a bloody corpse. Someone in the distance shouts.
The sound rings in her ears. It echoes through her. A piteous cry of
despair. "No!, No! I never had the time to say anything,
anything at all. No! Come back! We haven't said I love you yet! You
can't die! I love you! You idiot, I love you! Come back!" The
voice continues begging and pleading with all that is holy. Panting,
the girl looks down at the body and realizes that it is her own
voice, crying out. Her own love, lying dead at her feet. Her knees go
out and she collapses next to his body, calling his name. Again and
again, pleading. She cradles his head in her lap. His blood flows
slowly down her dress from the gaping wound on the back of his head.
Her tears fall down and join the crimson blood as it soaks into the
dusty ground, coloring it.
The ground shudders. She grasps the
chain of the swing for balance. Aftershock, her mind automatically
tells her. Another icy cloud of snowy-white translucent breath rises
to her face.
She hears a quiet moaning; the voice belonging to
her sister. The ground shudders and the voice is silenced. An
overwhelming loneliness washes over her. She backs away from the
scene and stands up, running, faster, faster, trying to escape.
Breathless, she rests on the swing.
Now, a figure is
approaching, lone and distant. It is dusk now. Her memories are only
hours old, young in her mind. The blood has dried, but her memories
remain wet. Death, why should they escape without her? She could have
lived without one of them, but they have all left her in a single
moment. Her father, teary-eyed, but mischievous; her sisters, kind
and smart; her love, inconsiderate and kind, shy and outgoing.
Perfect in every way. Why didn't she see it? She had delighted in
pointing out his faults, a childish game. They spent all their time
together like that. Her father had arranged their marriage. From
their joint resistance, friendship and then love had grown. More
time. If they had only been given more time. Happiness had been
within reach. Now he is dead. They are all dead. She was all
alone.
The figure is closer now. With another sighing breath
she raises her head for a better look. She slowly begins to recognize
the girl. Her vision blurs with memory.
The girl is waiting
tables in a small restaurant. She is Chinese. She looks up and gives
the victory sign.
The Chinese girl is standing next to her.
She wraps a blanket around the girl's shoulders, but it provides no
warmth. Only the feeling of rough fabric against her bare arms. "Come
inside." The Chinese girl suggests. She doesn't want to go, but
she hasn't the strength to argue. They walk five blocks together,
passing numerous other scenes of horror and tragedy. The girl is both
deaf and blind to them all.
The high school auditorium is
where they end their journey. A sturdier building that hasn't
suffered the damage most have. Pitifully, the battery-powered lamps
try to devour the oncoming night. They cannot reach the high rafters
of the celing. There might been no sheltering roof at all for all
that can be seen of it. The room is scattered with futons and
blankets. Doctors treating the wounded and children crying fill the
room with life, yet the despair is overwhelming. The Chinese girl
leads her to an empty futon and another girl. The other girl's arm is
bandaged and bound in a pale-blue cotton sling. The girl with the
bandage seems familiar and as she moves to sit next to her on the
futon, a name rises out of the mistiness of her memories. She says it
in one short breath, two syllables. The girl with the bandaged arm
turns toward her, "Yes?" She looks at the bandage on the
girl's arm. He is dead, her mind reminds her, not allowing her to
forget it with memories of better times. They were good friends, he
and this girl with her arm all tied up. She hears a voice speak her
name, followed by another reminder the he is gone from her life. The
sound of his name, spoken, renews her tears and her large eyes
overflow. She leans on the girl's un-bandaged shoulder and cries,
deep and hard.
The girl is walking down the hall of her home.
She turns and plops down the stairs, seeing her older sister in the
engawa she breaks into a run. She runs past her father, playing Go
with a friend, past the kitchen and out into the garden. High in the
plum tree she hears a rustling. Her eyes follow gnarled trunk
skywards and rest on the form of a teenage boy, picking the ripe
fruit. The ground shakes with a thunderous noise and she spins to
face the rubble behind her. Like thick syrup, deep scarlet blood
wells up and swallows the remains. Blackness burning bright
light. A dream.
Now it is what day? Tuesday. The Chinese girl
rushes over from a far corner. "You want eat something?"
she asks in her high pitched and thickly accented speech. Slowly the
girl nods. She must be hungry, she hasn't eaten since yesterday
morning. The Chinese girl returns with a bowl of noodles in broth.
She focuses her attention on the chopsticks and lifts a thin slice of
fish sausage to her lips. The hot food has no flavor, no substance,
but she finishes the noodles quickly. The girl with the bandaged arm
sits next to her. "They found your family yesterday, in the
rubble." The girl takes a deep breath to stop the flood of
memories, determined to face the words. She nods passively, as if she
doesn't care. Yet her heart is beating like a bird's, every ounce of
her being begging and pleading for her to say that any one of them is
all right. She doesn't. She is again offering a comforting shoulder
to cry on, but the girl refuses. Instead she looks upwards, here
daylight has proven the existence of the rafters. Her jaw set, the
girl turns to her new friend. "Will you be my second?" The
girl asks, probing into the bandaged girl's dark brown eyes, "Will
you help me?" Astonishment flashes across the face of the other
girl, then it is replaced by pitiful understanding. "I just
can't say good-bye to all of them, not all of them." A weak and
scared smile spreads across the face of the girl with the
arm-bandage. "Are you sure? Absolutely sure?" With a
tearful gulp followed by a determined stare, she replies. "I'll
be waiting for you. They're all waiting for me." The two girls
leave the school solemnly.
At sunset, one returns, holding a
knife in her free hand. The Chinese girl approaches her, "Where
she?" The girl with the bandaged arm bites her tongue and takes
a sharp breath, "She went back, to be with all of them."
The Chinese girl nods understandingly. They both understand why she
had to go back. She could have never said "good-bye"
without first saying "I love you."