Disclaimer: Don't own Ranma ½ and I probably never will. Neither do I own the lyrics or the Poem.
A/N: This is one of my most random and vaguest plot-bunny till date. Angst and Second person P.O.V. Only warnings that I can think of at the moment.
Virgin snow beneath my feet
Painting the world in white
I tread the way
and lose myself into a tale
Come hell or high water
My search will go on
Clayborn Voyage without an end
A nightingale in a golden cage
That's me locked inside reality's maze
Come someone make my heavy heart light
Come undone
Bring me back to life
A nightingale in a golden cage
That's me locked inside reality's maze
Come someone make my heavy heart light
It all starts with a lullaby.
- 'The Escapist' Nightwish.
You're a Vagabond of life. You're a born Escapist.
You don't know since when you've actually stopped denying it, and started accepting it. You figure you've been consciously knew of it since sometime after the disastrous debacle that the failed wedding was, happened, and you figure you've been unconsciously aware of it for a while before that. You don't even want to try and think back on since when it actually started. This, this… feeling. But you figure it's probably always been there, nagging, screaming in the depths of your mind, scratching away tiny bits of you with it phantom talons, and all around driving you insane. Or at least it's been there since Mama died. You can't remember much from before she died anyway, except for the vague fragmented remnant titbits of moments filled with blue hair, brown eyes, and a radiant smile that floats about in what you call your memory.
You miss Mama, even though you can't remember much about her. You miss watching her practice her katas gracefully, and clumsily imitating her. You miss being carried in her arms while she made the monthly budget for the house. You miss watching her cook, or eating her food. You miss her. But the dead stay dead. They can't come back to life, and even if there was a way for them, you're sure Mama would want to come back anyway. You don't know how you know it, but you just do. It's not something you can explain to yourself at all. Others are totally out of the question. There's no way someone else can understand you, when you can't understand yourself. There's not a single hope that someone can relate to you, when you feel like a phantom possessing a human doll in the first place. (It's no small wonder in your mind that you were able to move in Jusendo when you were actually turned into a doll.) Well maybe Mama could relate, but Mama's dead, so there's no point in going down that train of thought again.
It's back. That stupid feeling is back again, eating away at your mind with a renewed venom. Fluttering about in your mind whispering maliciously.
You're trapped here. Caged. Trapped here in heavy invisible bonds and chains. Chains that everyone is lacing around you. And they're curling around you. Tighter, and tighter, and tighter. Crushing you, pulling and tying you down, choking you, and suffocating you. It hums softly in a singsong voice at the edges of your conscious giggling. Close enough so that you're aware of it, but far enough to stave of any attempts of mentally strangling it to death.
It giggles again. Yes giggles. You don't even want to know when you've begun accepting the fact that your feelings can giggle. It's irrational. But rationality and logic have left your life eons ago, so they can be damned and rot in hell for all you care. The feeling giggles harder, as if to mock you, and whispers maliciously once again, 'It's driving you insane. Killing you slowly. Tediously. Methodically. Bit by tiny bit.'
And a cold chill washes over your entire being. A scary cold chill, that leaves you numb. Numb and empty. And you find yourself trying to fill that void. Fill it with obsession, anger, aggression, frustration. Fill it with anything. Like you always have done.
The only difference is this time you know what you're doing.
And that makes all the bloody damn difference.
You thought it would get better after the failed wedding. Instead it just got worst.
Everything feels like a burden now. Every relationship feels like a heavy chain tying you down. The world seems dull and grey, stuck in a time loop. Everything and anything seems to take its toll on you nowadays, drain you out more, leaving you emptier than before. You don't even know it's possible, but it happens. That little void you've found yourself conveniently ignoring, has grown to enormous proportions along with this stupid feeling of alienation, of something being utterly wrong.
'You don't belong here in Nerima, Akane. You never have, and you never will.' The feeling sings in your head, and you hate it.
You hate it because you know its right.
You try to tell yourself that it's just doubt and nothing more. That it's just your imagination running wild. You're not trapped here. No one is tying you down. This is your home after all. Nerima is your home. You always belong at home. These people here, are friends and family and well-wishers that you've known all your life. They love you. What would Mama think? What would Mama do? She felt the same way, but she was strong enough to realise it was just her own imagination and not true! Be strong like Mama! You're her daughter after all! But the words sound so hollow, that it's tough to believe in them.
It's tough to be like Mama. Mama was a good cook, a good wife, a good home-maker, a great businesswoman, and a talented martial artist. You're not like that. You can't cook even if you try, neither can you do the work Kasumi does. You're not as money-wise as Nabiki, money doesn't manage to stay in your pockets for long. And you know compared to everyone else you're a failure as a martial artist. You can't even compare to Kodachi.
And that's when you begin to change. When your own reasons fail to convince you anymore. When your own efforts fail, numerous times. You don't know if it's for the better or the worst but you begin to change nonetheless. Anger dissolves before it even reaches the surface. Every emotion dissolves before it reaches the surface. That void pulling it inwards, devouring it. You feel listless, and distant. Life becomes a repetitive routine to be rinsed, and repeated. Keeping up with everyone becomes a chore. And trying to maintain relationships make you feel like being tangled in chains.
Trying to stop dad from getting overbearing, seems useless. Dad's always been overprotective, and he wants the best for you. He's definitely not likely to understand your side of the deal. Protesting against Nabiki's teasing and blackmailing is no use. It's not like she'll stop. Kasumi is already too far gone with being the care-taker of the house. You can't deny that your relationship with her feels only like one in name anymore. Arguing with Ranma doesn't really do anything anyway. He always puts his foot in his mouth. And you don't really make things better by running away with your imagination and decking him. In fact, you aggravate it more. What the two of you have hasn't really gotten any stronger. Trying to reason with the rest of Ranma's fiancés and stalkers, or your own for that matter, never did any good before. It won't change now. Especially after what happened in Jusendo. They're more determined to win his and your affections over now, than they were before.
But then again hasn't it always felt this way? The only difference now is that you've accepted it, instead of choosing to live in denial all this time.
You become withdrawn.
Everyone notices.
Some worry, and they try to change it. Nabiki tries to draw you out through blackmail. Dad pounds on your bedroom door whenever you hide in there, which is more often. Yuka and Saiyuri yank you into their conversations more. Ryouga and Gosunkugi leave you tiny gifts to help cheer you up. Kuno does too, but you've always ignored him anyway. Dr. Tofu starts inviting you over for tea every other day. Hell Ranma even offers to seriously train you.
And the saddest part is, you can't seem to care anymore. You can't even bring yourself to have an ounce of happiness at how much they care for you. Instead, you feel even more burdened, chained and tied down. You feel more suffocated.
It's not like you don't love them anymore. You do. Gods you love them more than anything.
But it's your utter undying love for them that suffocates you. It's always them, them, them. You realise no matter how much you may have thought it, believed it, it's never been about you.
It's always their happiness, their dreams, what they want. No matter how much you think the opposite, you knew if any of them were to ask for your death, you'd gladly kill yourself.
You're too fucking selfless for your own good.
You wonder how Mama bore up with this feeling for so long. It must've been hell for her. It's hell for you after all. You knew it was bad, but not this much. Her journals which you stole from her room tell her story, but they don't convey her feelings. Or did she actually become that mechanical that other than joy she couldn't convey any other emotions? Will you turn out that way too? After all everyone says that out of all the three sisters you are the most like her.
The thought scares you more than anything else.
You don't want to be tied down. You don't want to be chained by relationships. You don't want to be suffocated. You don't want to be caged.
You don't want to feel this way all your life.
You're older now. A bit wiser. And willing to take risks and gambles.
You guess that's how you find yourself here. At the Nerima train station in the dead of night; on a deserted platform; standing by a bonfire; backpack on your shoulders, suitcase by your side; a ticket to God-knows-where in your pockets; along with a chequebook to your share of money for later life that Mama and Dad were saving up for you, along with some savings of your own from odd jobs; Mama's journals in your hand; and a farewell letter saying sorry left back at the dojo for them to find in the morning. You hope they'll understand. You hope they'll forgive you.
You hope they'll never come looking for you.
You're the most like your mother compared to all of your sisters. You have her looks, her blue hair, her chocolate eyes, her fiery temper, her utter selflessness and devotion to family no matter crack they may be, and her alienation.
You're Vagabonds. You're born Escapists.
The rain pulls into the station.
"I love you Mama." You whisper softly.
"But I don't wanna be like you. I'm not like you." You say throwing the journals into the fire.
You step into the train, watching as the doors close, and as Nerima begins to fall behind as you move out of the station, not a hint of regret or remorse in your eyes.
"I can leave my life behind."
You're a free bird now. And Freedom feels like home.
Give to me the life I love,
Let the lave go by me,
Give the jolly heaven aboveAnd the byway nigh me.
Bed in the bush with stars to see,
Bread I dip in the river -
There's the life for a man like me,
There's the life for ever.
Let the blow fall soon or late,
Let what will be o'er me;
Give the face of earth around
And the road before me.
Wealth I seek not, hope nor love,
Nor a friend to know me;
All I seek, the heaven above
And the road below me.
Or let autumn fall on me
Where afield I linger,
Silencing the bird on tree,
Biting the blue finger.
White as meal the frosty field -
Warm the fireside haven -
Not to autumn will I yield,
Not to winter even!
Let the blow fall soon or late,
Let what will be o'er me;
Give the face of earth around,
And the road before me.
Wealth I ask not, hope nor love,
Nor a friend to know me;
All I ask, the heaven above
And the road below me.
- Robert Louise Stevenson.
A/N: Not entirely too sure if this came out the way I wanted it. But I do hope it was enjoyable.
Yeah I probably suck at Akane angst, and Akane characterisation.
Anywho, leave a note! Ciao!