Where I Belong
By The Unseen Watcher
Ranma ½ belongs to Rumiko Takahashi? Right? Rurouni Kenshin belongs to . . .Agh! Someone just Told me! Where's that paper? Um, I think the last name begins with a W. Anyway, neither are mine. Kinda like to mess with it though.
Chapter 3
--------------------------
Several months passed, and the tension in Nerima rose to critical. Where was Ranma? Not even wily Cologne could find out. She had check with Tofu's mother once only to find Ranma and his new sensei had already departed for parts unknown.
Nabiki wasn't having any better luck. No one matching Ranma's description had been spotted by any of her contacts in Japan. No one had heard anything.
Then one day she got up and there was Ranma at the breakfast table, being served by a beaming Kasumi.
Nabiki was not a morning person, so her tact level was kind of low. "Where the hell have you been Saotome?" She asked bluntly, more than a little grouchy.
"Lots of places." Ranma answered, grinning. His eyebrows lifted. "Don't tell me the all-knowing Nabiki couldn't find me.
Nabiki glared at him. She thought of retorting but decided to get her revenge more subtly. It would be much more satisfying that way.
Then their fathers got up and the uproar really started.
"How could you do this to your old father boy?" Genma demanded. He struck a pose. "Oh, the hardships I have to endure in having such an ungrateful son." Crocodile tears streamed from his eyes.
Soun was outdoing him in the water works category. "Son, how could you? Leaving your fiancée like that! Poor Akane has been devastated by your unfaithfulness!"
Ranma frowned, but didn't say anything. He studied the two wailing men like a weird circus exhibit. Noticing the strange silence, Nabiki took note and decided to watch him carefully.
"I was NOT!" A voice yelled. Akane had returned from her morning jog and looked outraged by the accusation. "What do I care if that jerk falls off the face of the earth. He can leave forever for all I care!"
"Now Akane. . ." her father started to wheedle. The argument continued from there, all this time Ranma hadn't said a word, though it was obvious he was holding himself back a few times.
Trying to pry some information out of him, Nabiki said casually. "So Ranma, what new skills did you learn?" That stopped the argument immediately and all eyes turned to the young martial artist. Ranma was always eager to show off what he knew.
Ranma shrugged. "Not much really. He made me study most of the time."
"What? Come on boy their must have been some new technique you've mastered. Show us!" Genma ordered.
Ranma looked at him, that strange expression still on his face. "I could show you how to apply antiseptic right." He finally offered.
They all stared at him in disbelief. That was it? They'd been ready for him to return with yet another amazing technique and he was talking medicine?
All but one anyway. "Oh, please do Ranma. I've been a bit behind in my studies lately." Kasumi said enthusiastically. She sat down and the two of them started talking, seemingly oblivious to the circle of wide-eyed faces.
Things went from there. Ranma got back into school and while his teachers were thrilled by the sudden normal attention of one of their worst students, the other class members were sweating in their seats, wondering if the world was finally ending. Hanako-sensei even awarded him one of her lollipops for being so good. He gave it back to her as a gesture of respect, earning a happy squeal and a hug from the currently little girl. Surrounding classmates gave them a wide birth, some openly praying.
That week he got glomped by Shampoo, attention from Ukyo, and unfortunately some from Kodachi. He exchanged insults with Kuno at the gate as he always did, before sending him to the infirmary.
Everything seemed back to normal, save for his new attention to schoolwork. He started insulting his father back again and getting malleted by Akane for cooking comments. All was, so to speak, well.
The only difference were Ranma's occasional odd silences when things got really out of hand.
At the end of the week, Ranma was up on the roof again. He was ready. He had done what Tofu-sensei had challenged him to do. Now he had a decision to make.
"Ranma, I know most of this training hasn't made much sense to you, but there's one task left I want you to do before I consider it complete." "Hai, Sensei." Ranma said. He had discovered that he couldn't hurry his strange instructor, so he had to learn a little patience as a necessity. "We'll be returning to Nerima soon." He smiled as Ranma shifted in his seat at the news "When we get back there I want you to take a week and observe the people around you. Not as one of them, but as an outsider might see them. As the people we've met would look at them." Ranma's eyes narrowed in thought and he nodded. Seeing his agreement the doctor continued. "Then I want you to sit and think for as long as necessary where you see your life is going, and what you want to change. Then use that amazing strategic mind I've come to know and figure out a way to do it. Then." He paused, then barked. "DO IT!" Ranma straightened. He had learned that tone from the thankfully few times the not so harmless doctor had used it. He promised to do it.
He had promised. He'd had no idea then just how hard the seemingly simple task would be. When he had gotten back to the place he called home, he'd been astonished by how alien it had seemed. All the arguments, situations, and idiosyncrasies of the Nerima way of life seemed so strange now, when before he had just accepted them as normal.
In his travels with Dr. Tofu he had gone to many different places. Dr. Tofu was more often like a tour guide than a physical trainer, pointing out a place's history and even insisting he learn about the culture and the language. Ranma should have been bored out of his mind with all the studying, but the doc always seemed to know how to make it fun and apply it to his martial arts training. 'This place had been a battlefield where they used this type of fighting.' 'Learning the language of your opponent makes sure he doesn't have that advantage.' 'If you learn how to treat your injuries you can not be out of the fight as long.' 'Knowing how you body works leads to true mastery of it.' Then there was that strange time when they had visited Tofu's various relatives. Aside from his mother's strange hip fetish, they were all remarkably . . . friendly. The doctor would still spar with him, but most of the time he'd just sit with his hosts and talk about old times and what this person or other was doing. He'd even had an argument with one of his sisters. Not a punch was thrown and the idea of resolving a disagreement without violence had left Ranma confused for days afterward.
They had visited all sorts of people. From an ancient ninja clan that seemed to know and welcome Tofu on sight, to a small group of fisherman that had been isolated from the modern world for centuries. Then there were the places. The most disturbing ones had been the battlefields. There was always a fight going on somewhere and the doctor seemed to home in on them. Ranma found out he usually did things like this on his vacations! The doctor would bandage the wounded and Ranma would carry the medical supplies. All the time Dr. Tofu talked. He'd never seemed to stop except in their occasional training exercises. Ranma did learn a few techniques. Mostly stealth to get across a battlefield without getting shot, or Shiatsu points to lessen the pain of the wounded. He learned a lot about Shiatsu points. He probably knew almost as much as the old ghoul herself now.
Then he had returned to Nerima, eager to get back to reality. Only reality was not as he remembered it.
It seemed so petty now, after all he'd seen. An endless kid fight over one person where no one was giving an inch because they saw it as their right to have him. He had been appalled when he realized that even his best friend would take advantage of their talks to strengthen her claim on him.
He had seen his present life clearly for the first time. Now what, as Tofu-sensei would say, was he going to do about it?
He had never really thought much about the future. Everyone else always seemed to do it for him. He had resented it, but he had no other plans himself so he hadn't really put much energy in his objections.
He sat and thought. He thought until the sky darkened and the calls to him to come for dinner then bed went unheeded. The more he thought about it, the angrier and resentful he became. He knew objecting wouldn't work. They'd just ignore him or trick him or even drug him to get what they wanted. How could he get control of a life that was becoming abundantly clear did not belong to him?
He finally went to bed, his questions unanswered.
***
That night he dreamed of his fight with Saffron, as he had many times in the past months. Once again he was fighting for his life against one considered to be a demi-god. However, this time he realized that the Phoenix king wasn't his only opponent. Time itself seemed to work against him. How much of it did he have left? With his attention divided as he struggled to keep the fighting away from his friends and family and reach the spring in time to revive Akane he felt stretched in three different directions.
The physical pain of his injuries he suppressed automatically, but his emotions continued to pop up like bubbles, muddling his concentration. Too many life or death concerns that needed to be handled all at once. Too much stress and lack of sleep leading to this moment. His hard-learned control of his emotions during a fight was starting to slip.
He had never faced such an opponent, one that was bent on the utter destruction of both him, and the people he cared for. One he knew would not back down, short of death. His emotions roiled like the power of the aura surrounding him.
Concern, determination, anger, panic, and the fear of not making it in time washed over the confidence he had always displayed in combat. This was no fistfight, no simple test of skill and strength. This was all or nothing mortal combat. The realization was clouding his judgement, making him second-guess his own moves. He took several more hits and grimly realized that before he took out his main opponent he had to take a few precious seconds to defeat a tougher one; himself.
He was acting like a kid who hadn't learned how to focus yet.
Bringing his full attention back to Saffron, he launched another attack, exchanging blows and energy blasts. He could not afford to pull his punches. Too much was at stake. This man-bird was not like his other rivals; continually defeated and occasionally showing up to harass him. This was a real battle what both were determined to keep up until the other fell. The Phoenix would never quit seeking his life as long as there was breath in his body. Normally when someone swore revenge on him, he'd tell them to bring it on. But another life was at stake, the life of the girl that Ranma still hadn't sorted out his feelings about. More importantly, the life of a friend. He needed to finish this fight, but he might have to kill the Phoenix king in order to defeat him.
That, Ranma realized, was the problem.
All his life he'd been taught that a martial artist protects. He does not kill. He had made that ideal an integral part of the honor that he had clung to throughout his life and his association with his father, one of the most dishonorable men alive. His honor was one of the few things he considered truly his in his chaotic existence, and he would sooner die than surrender it.
But here he was in what looked like a lose-lose situation. It was either Akane or Saffron. A now helpless girl or the creature that sought to destroy them all. If he won, Saffron would die, and so would a precious part of his own soul. However, if he allowed Saffron to win, then they all lost. They would all die under the claws of the Phoenix-god.
Ranma didn't like making tough decisions. He preferred to be easy-going and let things come at him at his own pace. But he was cornered with no way out. There was no one else to take the responsibility this time. The choice, and its consequences, was his.
Trapped in a terrible moral dilemma, he did what he always had; he let his personal code choose for him, and unhesitantly followed where it took him. It didn't take long to decide.
Having made his decision, he acted. Taking all the inhibiting emotions, he exerted his remarkable control in battle to shove them into a temporary mental corner. He would have to deal with them later, but for now he had other concerns.
Now, without anxiety or guilt blocking his battle senses he viewed his opponent calmly, his expression hardening into a mask as sudden anger welled up in his throat. However, this felt completely different from the hot rage he usually experienced. This anger was as cold and unforgiving as the depths of space. Had he the energy to spare in contemplation, he would have been amazed by how easily it came to him.
With the icy fury taking over, he looked at Saffron and saw, not an unbeatable fire-god, but an annoying obstacle that stood between him and his goal. Another hurdle he'd have to overcome that fate had thrown in his way.
Without any doubts to hold him back, completely focused on going Through Saffron if necessary, he redoubled his attacks. . .
**
Ranma woke up, sweating as he stared at the dark ceiling of his room. He glanced at the clock, noting that it was several hours until morning. Wide-awake, he continued to stare upward, his gaze unfocused as he went over his dream.
His memory was coming back.
Dr. Tofu had assured him that the battle shock would eventually wear off and that his memories would return. He'd been glad to hear it. He hated not remembering his own actions, one of the main reasons he so despised the Neko-ken. Always striving for perfect control of his body and mind, he detested every time it slipped from his grasp. He was secretly afraid that it was only a matter of time before his body did something horrible while his mind was out to lunch.
He wanted, Needed control. Control of his actions. Control of his life. His life, curse it. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched, a half-healed bruise from one of Akane's little tantrums an aching reminder that others thought he had little say in the matter when it came to what he wanted.
He hadn't fought this hard against the odds for so long, just to give up now. Silently, he thanked Dr. Tofu for helping his perspective. He wasn't exactly sure what life Should be like, but his definitely wasn't it.
Tomorrow he would start to take control of his life.
After breakfast, he added, his stomach complaining about the missed dinner.
------------------
I'm not stretching here, am I? Anyway, I'm sorry for the Akane- bashing. I'm just so stinkin' TIRED of all the idiotic things anime girls do and assume. I'm sure I'll get over it. . .eventually.
By The Unseen Watcher
Ranma ½ belongs to Rumiko Takahashi? Right? Rurouni Kenshin belongs to . . .Agh! Someone just Told me! Where's that paper? Um, I think the last name begins with a W. Anyway, neither are mine. Kinda like to mess with it though.
Chapter 3
--------------------------
Several months passed, and the tension in Nerima rose to critical. Where was Ranma? Not even wily Cologne could find out. She had check with Tofu's mother once only to find Ranma and his new sensei had already departed for parts unknown.
Nabiki wasn't having any better luck. No one matching Ranma's description had been spotted by any of her contacts in Japan. No one had heard anything.
Then one day she got up and there was Ranma at the breakfast table, being served by a beaming Kasumi.
Nabiki was not a morning person, so her tact level was kind of low. "Where the hell have you been Saotome?" She asked bluntly, more than a little grouchy.
"Lots of places." Ranma answered, grinning. His eyebrows lifted. "Don't tell me the all-knowing Nabiki couldn't find me.
Nabiki glared at him. She thought of retorting but decided to get her revenge more subtly. It would be much more satisfying that way.
Then their fathers got up and the uproar really started.
"How could you do this to your old father boy?" Genma demanded. He struck a pose. "Oh, the hardships I have to endure in having such an ungrateful son." Crocodile tears streamed from his eyes.
Soun was outdoing him in the water works category. "Son, how could you? Leaving your fiancée like that! Poor Akane has been devastated by your unfaithfulness!"
Ranma frowned, but didn't say anything. He studied the two wailing men like a weird circus exhibit. Noticing the strange silence, Nabiki took note and decided to watch him carefully.
"I was NOT!" A voice yelled. Akane had returned from her morning jog and looked outraged by the accusation. "What do I care if that jerk falls off the face of the earth. He can leave forever for all I care!"
"Now Akane. . ." her father started to wheedle. The argument continued from there, all this time Ranma hadn't said a word, though it was obvious he was holding himself back a few times.
Trying to pry some information out of him, Nabiki said casually. "So Ranma, what new skills did you learn?" That stopped the argument immediately and all eyes turned to the young martial artist. Ranma was always eager to show off what he knew.
Ranma shrugged. "Not much really. He made me study most of the time."
"What? Come on boy their must have been some new technique you've mastered. Show us!" Genma ordered.
Ranma looked at him, that strange expression still on his face. "I could show you how to apply antiseptic right." He finally offered.
They all stared at him in disbelief. That was it? They'd been ready for him to return with yet another amazing technique and he was talking medicine?
All but one anyway. "Oh, please do Ranma. I've been a bit behind in my studies lately." Kasumi said enthusiastically. She sat down and the two of them started talking, seemingly oblivious to the circle of wide-eyed faces.
Things went from there. Ranma got back into school and while his teachers were thrilled by the sudden normal attention of one of their worst students, the other class members were sweating in their seats, wondering if the world was finally ending. Hanako-sensei even awarded him one of her lollipops for being so good. He gave it back to her as a gesture of respect, earning a happy squeal and a hug from the currently little girl. Surrounding classmates gave them a wide birth, some openly praying.
That week he got glomped by Shampoo, attention from Ukyo, and unfortunately some from Kodachi. He exchanged insults with Kuno at the gate as he always did, before sending him to the infirmary.
Everything seemed back to normal, save for his new attention to schoolwork. He started insulting his father back again and getting malleted by Akane for cooking comments. All was, so to speak, well.
The only difference were Ranma's occasional odd silences when things got really out of hand.
At the end of the week, Ranma was up on the roof again. He was ready. He had done what Tofu-sensei had challenged him to do. Now he had a decision to make.
"Ranma, I know most of this training hasn't made much sense to you, but there's one task left I want you to do before I consider it complete." "Hai, Sensei." Ranma said. He had discovered that he couldn't hurry his strange instructor, so he had to learn a little patience as a necessity. "We'll be returning to Nerima soon." He smiled as Ranma shifted in his seat at the news "When we get back there I want you to take a week and observe the people around you. Not as one of them, but as an outsider might see them. As the people we've met would look at them." Ranma's eyes narrowed in thought and he nodded. Seeing his agreement the doctor continued. "Then I want you to sit and think for as long as necessary where you see your life is going, and what you want to change. Then use that amazing strategic mind I've come to know and figure out a way to do it. Then." He paused, then barked. "DO IT!" Ranma straightened. He had learned that tone from the thankfully few times the not so harmless doctor had used it. He promised to do it.
He had promised. He'd had no idea then just how hard the seemingly simple task would be. When he had gotten back to the place he called home, he'd been astonished by how alien it had seemed. All the arguments, situations, and idiosyncrasies of the Nerima way of life seemed so strange now, when before he had just accepted them as normal.
In his travels with Dr. Tofu he had gone to many different places. Dr. Tofu was more often like a tour guide than a physical trainer, pointing out a place's history and even insisting he learn about the culture and the language. Ranma should have been bored out of his mind with all the studying, but the doc always seemed to know how to make it fun and apply it to his martial arts training. 'This place had been a battlefield where they used this type of fighting.' 'Learning the language of your opponent makes sure he doesn't have that advantage.' 'If you learn how to treat your injuries you can not be out of the fight as long.' 'Knowing how you body works leads to true mastery of it.' Then there was that strange time when they had visited Tofu's various relatives. Aside from his mother's strange hip fetish, they were all remarkably . . . friendly. The doctor would still spar with him, but most of the time he'd just sit with his hosts and talk about old times and what this person or other was doing. He'd even had an argument with one of his sisters. Not a punch was thrown and the idea of resolving a disagreement without violence had left Ranma confused for days afterward.
They had visited all sorts of people. From an ancient ninja clan that seemed to know and welcome Tofu on sight, to a small group of fisherman that had been isolated from the modern world for centuries. Then there were the places. The most disturbing ones had been the battlefields. There was always a fight going on somewhere and the doctor seemed to home in on them. Ranma found out he usually did things like this on his vacations! The doctor would bandage the wounded and Ranma would carry the medical supplies. All the time Dr. Tofu talked. He'd never seemed to stop except in their occasional training exercises. Ranma did learn a few techniques. Mostly stealth to get across a battlefield without getting shot, or Shiatsu points to lessen the pain of the wounded. He learned a lot about Shiatsu points. He probably knew almost as much as the old ghoul herself now.
Then he had returned to Nerima, eager to get back to reality. Only reality was not as he remembered it.
It seemed so petty now, after all he'd seen. An endless kid fight over one person where no one was giving an inch because they saw it as their right to have him. He had been appalled when he realized that even his best friend would take advantage of their talks to strengthen her claim on him.
He had seen his present life clearly for the first time. Now what, as Tofu-sensei would say, was he going to do about it?
He had never really thought much about the future. Everyone else always seemed to do it for him. He had resented it, but he had no other plans himself so he hadn't really put much energy in his objections.
He sat and thought. He thought until the sky darkened and the calls to him to come for dinner then bed went unheeded. The more he thought about it, the angrier and resentful he became. He knew objecting wouldn't work. They'd just ignore him or trick him or even drug him to get what they wanted. How could he get control of a life that was becoming abundantly clear did not belong to him?
He finally went to bed, his questions unanswered.
***
That night he dreamed of his fight with Saffron, as he had many times in the past months. Once again he was fighting for his life against one considered to be a demi-god. However, this time he realized that the Phoenix king wasn't his only opponent. Time itself seemed to work against him. How much of it did he have left? With his attention divided as he struggled to keep the fighting away from his friends and family and reach the spring in time to revive Akane he felt stretched in three different directions.
The physical pain of his injuries he suppressed automatically, but his emotions continued to pop up like bubbles, muddling his concentration. Too many life or death concerns that needed to be handled all at once. Too much stress and lack of sleep leading to this moment. His hard-learned control of his emotions during a fight was starting to slip.
He had never faced such an opponent, one that was bent on the utter destruction of both him, and the people he cared for. One he knew would not back down, short of death. His emotions roiled like the power of the aura surrounding him.
Concern, determination, anger, panic, and the fear of not making it in time washed over the confidence he had always displayed in combat. This was no fistfight, no simple test of skill and strength. This was all or nothing mortal combat. The realization was clouding his judgement, making him second-guess his own moves. He took several more hits and grimly realized that before he took out his main opponent he had to take a few precious seconds to defeat a tougher one; himself.
He was acting like a kid who hadn't learned how to focus yet.
Bringing his full attention back to Saffron, he launched another attack, exchanging blows and energy blasts. He could not afford to pull his punches. Too much was at stake. This man-bird was not like his other rivals; continually defeated and occasionally showing up to harass him. This was a real battle what both were determined to keep up until the other fell. The Phoenix would never quit seeking his life as long as there was breath in his body. Normally when someone swore revenge on him, he'd tell them to bring it on. But another life was at stake, the life of the girl that Ranma still hadn't sorted out his feelings about. More importantly, the life of a friend. He needed to finish this fight, but he might have to kill the Phoenix king in order to defeat him.
That, Ranma realized, was the problem.
All his life he'd been taught that a martial artist protects. He does not kill. He had made that ideal an integral part of the honor that he had clung to throughout his life and his association with his father, one of the most dishonorable men alive. His honor was one of the few things he considered truly his in his chaotic existence, and he would sooner die than surrender it.
But here he was in what looked like a lose-lose situation. It was either Akane or Saffron. A now helpless girl or the creature that sought to destroy them all. If he won, Saffron would die, and so would a precious part of his own soul. However, if he allowed Saffron to win, then they all lost. They would all die under the claws of the Phoenix-god.
Ranma didn't like making tough decisions. He preferred to be easy-going and let things come at him at his own pace. But he was cornered with no way out. There was no one else to take the responsibility this time. The choice, and its consequences, was his.
Trapped in a terrible moral dilemma, he did what he always had; he let his personal code choose for him, and unhesitantly followed where it took him. It didn't take long to decide.
Having made his decision, he acted. Taking all the inhibiting emotions, he exerted his remarkable control in battle to shove them into a temporary mental corner. He would have to deal with them later, but for now he had other concerns.
Now, without anxiety or guilt blocking his battle senses he viewed his opponent calmly, his expression hardening into a mask as sudden anger welled up in his throat. However, this felt completely different from the hot rage he usually experienced. This anger was as cold and unforgiving as the depths of space. Had he the energy to spare in contemplation, he would have been amazed by how easily it came to him.
With the icy fury taking over, he looked at Saffron and saw, not an unbeatable fire-god, but an annoying obstacle that stood between him and his goal. Another hurdle he'd have to overcome that fate had thrown in his way.
Without any doubts to hold him back, completely focused on going Through Saffron if necessary, he redoubled his attacks. . .
**
Ranma woke up, sweating as he stared at the dark ceiling of his room. He glanced at the clock, noting that it was several hours until morning. Wide-awake, he continued to stare upward, his gaze unfocused as he went over his dream.
His memory was coming back.
Dr. Tofu had assured him that the battle shock would eventually wear off and that his memories would return. He'd been glad to hear it. He hated not remembering his own actions, one of the main reasons he so despised the Neko-ken. Always striving for perfect control of his body and mind, he detested every time it slipped from his grasp. He was secretly afraid that it was only a matter of time before his body did something horrible while his mind was out to lunch.
He wanted, Needed control. Control of his actions. Control of his life. His life, curse it. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched, a half-healed bruise from one of Akane's little tantrums an aching reminder that others thought he had little say in the matter when it came to what he wanted.
He hadn't fought this hard against the odds for so long, just to give up now. Silently, he thanked Dr. Tofu for helping his perspective. He wasn't exactly sure what life Should be like, but his definitely wasn't it.
Tomorrow he would start to take control of his life.
After breakfast, he added, his stomach complaining about the missed dinner.
------------------
I'm not stretching here, am I? Anyway, I'm sorry for the Akane- bashing. I'm just so stinkin' TIRED of all the idiotic things anime girls do and assume. I'm sure I'll get over it. . .eventually.