Rumiko Takahashi owns Inuyasha and Ranma 1/2. I do not.
(My first ever attempt at creative writing of any sort and its not beta read; I have no idea what I am doing, so your brutal honesty is much appreciated.)
Chapter 1
The cherry petals wafted by the deck in lazy descent to the pond surface which Ranma faced. It was an ironic contrast to the gut-wrenching uncertainty.
"I won't." Ranma finally managed to choke out.
Listening to the slight shuffle of fabric, it was clear that Genma approached from behind. The silence descended upon them in a blanket of tension.
"Ranma.." addressed Genma, a grave air to the timber of his voice. The careful enunciation of Ranma's name was revealing and predictive of what was to come.
"Then surely you must understand what comes next." Genma stated coldly.
Ranma's mouth opened, then closed. Eyes clamped shut and nails slicing into fists that hung from rigid arms.
Yes, Ranma knew.
Genma observed Ranma's form from behind while they both overlooked the deck and pond. Today, the lines of Genma's middle age somehow seemed more prominent, more tired. Taking a deep, slow breath, Genma's eyes fell shut upon exhalation.
The reflective surface of the koi pond rippled delicately. It was a serene place to recall years of grueling training and destitute poverty that Ranma called a childhood. That was challenging, but it was nothing like this. No amount of training could prepare anyone for this.
"All those years" Genma began steadily, as if reflecting upon the same pool of memories. "I did it for you…I made a vow to make you stronger" he asserted with a conviction. "Do yo not respect the sacrifice I have made to bring you here boy?" he questioned, self-righteous anger bubbling dangerously close to the surface. Something in the sentence elicited a small jerk of Ranma's head just enough that the curve of Ranma's cheek could be illuminated by the low hanging sun. Ranma made no further movements.
"Where is your honor, Ranma?!" Genma demanded, tone quickly escalating. Hearing only silence, Genma frowned bitterly. He could see his son drag his sleeve across his face, leaving damp splotches on the fabric. Taking a measured breath Genma gained control over his emotions once more, a safeguard to his residual denial at this confrontation.
Genma twitched when he observed a slight bounce of Ranma's shoulders and a breathy cackle joined its rhythm. Eventually, Ranma quieted.
"Honor? You left that at the springs 17 years ago. Don't tell me about honor." Ranma scoffed in response, still reeling from the irony. There was palpable betrayal laced within the quip, stabbing both of them like daggers.
Genma visibly tensed and averted his gaze, for once wavering in his steadfast self-righteousness. He could only do what he always did, what had always worked before; He would do it even while part of him withered in shame and reason told him that it would work no longer-there was no running away, this time. However, stubbornness made him deaf for 17 long years. Naturally, it made him deaf now.
There was a hesitation that wrapped around Ranma, a vulnerability that made petite calloused hands fiddle with the hem of the navy silk top. The magnitude of the truth was vast and terrifying. It was a monster Ranma dreaded facing but, lacking any choice in the matter, had to.
"How could you lie to me?" Ranma whispered almost too quiet to hear, the voice a frail husk of what it used to be. The question hung there, seeming to weigh everything in the room down like lead.
Genma winced, shifting uncomfortably. When he found his voice, Genma tried again, but more softly. "Ranma…my son—"
Almost instantaneously, Ranma snapped around, pinning him with wide, feral eyes. The reflexive action demonstrated internal turbulence coursing through Ranma in this moment. He had never seen his son so serious, and it was a warning to him. A threat, almost.
"NO!" a feminine voice snarled. "I am not your son!" Ranma clarified before closing the distance with blinding speed. The only evidence of movement was the air that swam past Genma's frame. It was an awesome reminder of the sheer talent and power confined to this seething martial artist. With a hardened jaw and a gaze that burned holes through Genma's, Ranma wordlessly commanded him to face the damages he created.
It took a great deal of effort not to flinch at the sight before him. It was not the man he had trained his son to be but also not the child who would obediently yield to his orders—not anymore. The energy it radiated was neither completely masculine nor docile. Observing the form before him, a sobering realization dawned that was hard to swallow. His sons lithe form hosted curves which mens clothes could no longer mask. Pain and conflict emitted from emerald eyes, framed with ruby locks so gracefully, so beautifully. so…womanly. Genma grimaced.
When the quiet intensity threatened to swallow them both, a broken voice had the strength to rise above it.
"I-I" Ramna started with a dry swallow. "Won't marry Akane. I can't. I don't…feel nothin'".
This time Genma nodded in acknowledgement, relief that he could push these realizations back to the recesses of his mind as he had done for so many years. Genma proceeded to affirm how such sentiments were normal.
"Ranma…", Genma paused, giving uncharacteristic forethought to his words. "You know this marriage is arranged. Later on the feelings will come."
"Can you guarantee that?!" spat Ranma rhetorically, bristling up at the aging martial artist he called 'Pops'. "No!" Ranma snapped. As if an invisible threshold had been crossed, years of repressed emotions and resentment crashed past Ranma's fortified mental gates like they were tissue paper, spewing out the monster Genma had created. It was a monster neither knew existed until the truth had unshackled it.
"I never…I NEVER asked you! Never to be promised to another before I was even born. Never to have the weight of your honor on my shoulders before I could even breathe. My whole life I trained to make you proud!" Ranma rasped out, heartbreak crumbling the false strength drawn from rage.
Ranma's lip trembled before it pinched into a firm line and a sharp intake through the nose could be heard, though it did little to help. "I thought that maybe one day…that one day", Ranma croaked before trailing off into silence.
After a moment of pause, Ranma's soft pink lips pulled into a weak smile, abandoning the previous idea with a subtle shake of the head.
"You told me that this curse is a gift, and my chance to prove myself, my honor as a man—to take over the dojo through marriage…" Ranma stammered helplessly, hopelessly. "I tried to believe that and ignore what happened. I wanted to trust you on this like I always have. but I..." Ranma swallowed the quiver that plagued her speech. "I can't"
"I won't."
Genma's hands curled into fists at these words as the sentiments rolling off his son in waves saturated him with unease. According to him, this was not how a man was supposed to act. Exposing such vulnerability was unthinkable. It was weak. It was feminine.
With a humorless chuckle, Ranma acknowledged the sliver of truth that existed in Genma's dismissal of his actions .
" Yer a little right. The curse, it did give me a gift". Ranma admitted with a small nod, eyes downcast in thought.
Green orbs lifted slowly to greet Genma's tense form, peering through tear-soaked lashes. The gaze pierced his soul with spears of betrayal, crippling him. Uncertain of what to say or how to handle such a foreign confrontation, his lips remained sealed. What can one say at a time like this?
"It was clarity" Ranma revealed. "I now know I will never be good enough for you…Genma."
Genma's breath hitched. The formal addressment from Ranma stung deeply. It signaled the beginning of the end. Over the last few weeks, as the wedding date approached, he saw how increasingly irritable and unstable Ranma had become. Genma forced himself to overlook the dark circles that grew beneath his sons eyes, or the cold sweats and panic that stole his sons dreams away during the night. He pretended not to notice the apathy that engulfed Ranma's enthusiasm for training, or the playful nature that disappeared with it. Sure, there was a lot less arguing, less bickering—but there also was a whole lot less of everything previously considered "Ranma". Genma dismissed all of it because it was the easiest thing to do. It was was he promised his wife before she passed and what he promised the Tendo household. He was well aware that his son did not want this, and Akane expressed a similar sentiment. Regardless, Genma felt side-swiped by this confrontation. He wanted so badly to hide behind fisticuffs and denial. Genma wanted to salvage this normality, but the truth had changed Ranma. Normal wasn't enough.
Ranma had turned back to face the koi pond, unable to hold Genma's gaze. Ranma didn't want to waver from the intended decision, but doubt creeped in like it always did. Hope was deceitful bitch.
A cherry blossom was a welcome distraction. Towards outreached hands, it glided down the melody of the breeze. Ranma cradled it carefully and considered its beauty. A wave of peace melted tense shoulders, and after a time, with flattened palms, Ranma watched it be swept away. It rose and danced higher from an upward gust until wandered out of sight.
Where will it go? Ranma wondered briefly before returning to the present moment.
"So…" Ranma spoke softly, but with a tone of resolve that wasn't there before.
"I hope one day, Genma..." Ranma began, a red pigtail swiveling over a toned shoulder so that sad eyes regarded the polished floor inches from Genma's feet. "You'll see that I never did fail you as your son".
Finally, Ranma's eyes flicked up to meet his, hosting a startling depth. The muscles underlying Genma's jaws tensed and time seemed to slow.
"You can rest knowing…you never had one."
Sorrow spilled into those words unlike any Ranma had ever spoken, a spectacle that neither of them had ever imagined happening. Not between them. Not from Ranma.
The afternoon Nerima breeze carried the distant sounds of dogs barking and trees rustling. Ranma lingered momentarily, reluctant to take the last step. She kept her gaze trained on Genma, a bit uncertain of what she was hoping to gain. A part of her yearned for any acknowledgement, any response would suffice as a token of farewell—even anger or resentment. But from him, from Ranma's father, there was only stillness. No words. No expressions. No nothing. Ranma was alone, she realized. That reality gave her the strength to leap onto the rooftop and disappear. No footsteps sounded the departure, but it was real, nonetheless.
An emptiness creeped upon the deck overlooking the koi pond, chilling the spring air. Genma stood motionless, an ashen complexion washing over his skin. Haunted eyes blankly locked where Ranma had once stood and to Genmas disbelief, a wetness graced barren lands for the first time in decades. It trickled, a searing string of genuine anguish to flow down his face.
In those last seconds, Genma had seen a ghost. He had glimpsed a specter of the past for only a moment, just before Ranma escaped to the rooftop. Seeing it had snapped something within him.
In that moment, the adult features and body of Ranma melted away, shrinking down by several feet. The trembling pink lips pulled into a mischievous grin. The neatly braided hair morphed into flaming scruffy tassels. And those eyes! They blurred into round twinkling gems which peered into his own, beaming with vibrancy, brimming with adoration. Trusting, hopeful. Loving. Someone he had nearly forgotten.
In a robotic fashion his head fell forward and his eyes stared at his uncontrollably quaking hands—the same monsters that had enforced tyranny of his lies in the name of his honor—before collapsing into them. Genma choked back a sob as the last of his denial shattered to millions of pieces, agonizing in the remorse that fell in its wake. A white-knuckled fist grasped desperately at the fantom trying to punish him, causing him to stagger to his knees with a wheeze. It arrived to expunge his miserable existence, his lungs burning for the oxygen it withheld from him. It was now that the years spent in sickening pursuit of his own honor would devour him whole. In all his life, this was the most formidable force he had ever faced and he wondered if it would be his last.
Here stood Genma, a man among no one. Unforgivable. Honorless. Pathetic. Weak. And none of this pain mattered now.
Ranma was gone. His sweet baby girl…was gone.