A Measure of Honor
A Ranma Nibun no Ichi FanFic by Anansi42
Disclaimer - This is a story based on characters created, owned and copyrighted by Takahashi Rumiko, Shogakukan Publishing, VIZ Communications, Kitty Film, Fuji TV and other associated parties. I'm only borrowing them for a bit without permission. This story is written expressly for entertainment purposes.
Author's Note: This story is based largely on the Ranma 1/2 anime with a little of the manga thrown in for seasoning. This is mostly because I have seen the entire anime series but have only read bits and pieces of the manga: I have this odd hangup that tells me an English-translated manga is a comic book while one in the original Japanese is a foreign language lesson with pictures, so my manga reading is limited to what volumes I can find in Japanese at the local bookstores (I'm not desperate enough to shop eBay for the rest; besides, I already shelled out enough cash on the anime). If you're interested in knowing where this story appears in the Ranma ½ timeline, it is an AU fic, diverging from the canon timeline around the middle of manga volume 34 (I think. It's been a while since I read that one). For the most part, references in the story will be from the anime rather than the manga (except where I feel that information from the manga would be pertinent and helpful): in that sense, the story happens after the end of Season 7.
Synopsis - Nodoka has found out about Ranma's curse. Will she fulfill the seppuku contract?
Part Four - The price of failure
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He was in the living room when he heard voices from the dining area, they were arguing over something.
He went over to see what the fuss was about.
As he got closer he could make out his mother's voice, arguing with a man in low tones.
Who's Mom mad at?
A moment later he saw she was speaking with his father. What's HE doing here?
Then he understood. I'm dreaming. No. Is this a memory? This looks like the past, before the training trip. What are they mad about? He wandered closer to see more.
"Genma, this idea of yours is ill-advised."
"I can do it! You've said already that I have a lot of skill in the Art. I will teach that skill to our son."
"But to take him away…"
"I wish it could be done some other way, but there is so much for him to learn and so much more for me to learn and teach. He may need all of that training someday."
"But to take him away from me, his own mother!"
"He needs to focus on the Art. A mother's love would be in the way of that."
"I think this is just a way for you to go back on the road. You seem happier there, sometimes."
"That is not true; but I believe that Ranma needs this."
"I don't know. You do enjoy living outdoors, in the wild, almost like you're a ronin."
"If you doubt my sincerity, I will make a pledge to show you how seriously I take this. I will train our son to be an exemplary man or die in the attempt." Genma reached for paper and a brush.
[I will bring up Ranma to be an exemplary man, a man's man.
If, against all the odds I fail… father and son will together commit seppuku with grace.]
Genma signed the contract.
Ranma was playing beside the table, oblivious to his father's seriousness or to his mother's sudden intake of breath. He was holding the inkstone when his mother picked him up and held him, tight.
"You would do that to him?"
"I would treat him the same way as myself. The success of his training will depend on him even more than on me."
"You expect me to sign this?"
"No. I believe that Ranma will succeed and become a truly exemplary man; but should something go wrong, we will need a second we can trust."
"But to expect me to be kaishakunin to this…"
"If he and I do not succeed, seppuku will be a mercy compared to the shame of failure. I am confident that you will do what is needed with dignity and with honor."
Genma plucked Ranma out of his mother's lap, "And what have you been doing?"
"Playin'!"
"Looks more to me like you've been fighting with an octopus. See this paper?"
"Yeah!"
"Want to see if you can leave a handprint?"
"Sure!"
"Genma!"
"He should sign this as well, since it will affect his entire life."
"But he doesn't even know what it means!"
"I will teach him." Genma looked to his son, "Go on, son, make your mark!"
A small hand slapped happily onto the paper.
"I won't fail, Nodoka."
"But you will." In place of Ranma's mother, someone else sat across the table. She was shorter than his mother; but was somehow more menacing. Her face was a mask of disappointment and loathing. Bright red hair danced around her head like tongues of flame.
"You will fail. Nothing you do can ever change that." A sword appeared in the girl's hand, as if out of thin air.
Her hand swung out, the sword moving in a blur.
"Pop?"
But his father didn't answer. In his place a panda lay on its side, blood pooling from a deep gash on its neck and another through its belly.
Ranma looked back to where the flame-haired thing stood. His mother was now in its place.
"I won't fail! I don't lose!!" he cried defiantly.
"You have already lost. How can you possibly be a man among men… like that?" His mother pointed to him.
Ranma looked down to see her cursed form.
"You were to have returned from your training as an exemplary man, not as a daughter." The sword moved again.
Slice
Ranma looked down to see the long, deep cut through her abdomen. Blood was freely flowing in a deep red stream from the wound. She pressed her left hand against the gash in a pathetic attempt to staunch the blood. Her right came up in a futile attempt to ward off more sword strokes.
"You have failed."
The blade thrust forward and upward.
Slice
A vertical cut met the first gash in Ranma's middle. Ranma looked up, hoping for forgiveness, or at least mercy, in her mother's face. She saw none. The thing that looked like her mother changed, becoming a match for Ranma's cursed form again, save for the eyes that glowed like embers.
"You are a failure," said the thing with Nodoka's voice. The sword moved again, a quick blur toward Ranma's neck.
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It was early when Ranma awoke in a cold sweat. Panicked, he felt his stomach where he dreamt the blade had cut. Finding nothing, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Well, that was a new twist to THAT nightmare.
He rose and stretched. Looking out of the window, he could see clouds, red with the approaching dawn.
I know I'm worried about Mom and the contract, but having that dream can't be a good sign.
He went downstairs to practice and also regain some of his composure. As he approached the dojo he could hear the noises of activity inside the training hall. He thought it the sounds might have been caused by his mother but as he made out the sounds of several pairs of feet he reasoned that a class might be in session. He wasn't in the mood to meet people yet, so rather than bother the people in the dojo he went outside to practice.
His workout didn't usually include a jog, but without a morning spar he needed some other aerobic exercise. It wasn't much of a run, only a few kilometers, but it was a good opportunity to see some new scenery.
His run complete, he followed up with a tai chi exercise. The slow, calming movements of tai chi allowed Ranma to regain the rest of his composure from the nightmare that had woken him that morning.
Wrapping up with a quick Amaguriken (tai chi was fine, but sometimes just felt too slow for him), Ranma collected his clothes from the laundry pole and returned to the house. The sounds from the dojo were less intense than before, but Ranma still left the people inside their privacy; he still had a lot to think about.
After a quick wash and soak in the furo, Ranma was ready to start the day. When he returned to his room he found that clothes had been laid out on the dresser.
A gi? But I'm already done with practice. Wait, this is silk; and the cut is different: not a gi then, a kimono. White kimono robes just like the seppuku outfit I wore last time. This is REALLY not a good sign.
Nervously, Ranma dressed in the loose robes and made his way downstairs. On the dining table he found a brief note in his mother's clear, precise handwriting.
[Meet me in the dojo.]
With a slow step, Ranma made his way to the dojo and entered. In the center of the room were a broad, red cloth on which sat a sanbo table.
Seppuku.
Oh shit.
"Ranma," Nodoka's voice came from behind, startling him, "I believe that you know about the seppuku contract, signed when you left." She was dressed in a kimono similar to Ranma's, ready to perform her part as kaishakunin, assistant or second in the seppuku ritual: the white robes a symbol for purity of purpose and action.
And also for death, Ranma noted.
"Hai. You showed it to everyone during your first visit to the Tendos." And I must have failed the test if she's bringing it up now.
"I have listened to you and how you are dealing with your life, your curse, and your other troubles. I believe that you think are doing the best you can to deal with them but that it is not enough. I cannot reconcile this with the actions of an exemplary man, a 'man among men'. Your martial arts skills are extraordinary, but this alone is not enough. As much as it pains me, you and I both know what must be done."
"I had hoped… but I understand."
Damn curse. Pop was actually right for once; Mom does consider the curse 'unmanly' enough to wipe out anything else I could do.
"I only hope that is the case." She motioned to the low table, "Be seated."
Ranma walked across the covered floor, feeling the thickness of several layers of cloth through the soles of his feet. He knelt before the small, unlacquered table in the center of the room: it held an empty porcelain cup, a sheaf of paper, ink, and a writing brush. Beyond the table were the dojo's outer doors, open to view the sunrise.
"You asked me yesterday about my definition of 'manliness'. I suggested that you could find the answer here in the dojo. Have you found that answer?"
"I thought I might have but… no."
Nodoka's face was impassive but still revealed her disappointment, "Did you see the hanging scrolls, Ranma?"
"Hai, mother. They are the old warriors' code." But I still don't get… oh.
Nodoka walked to the wall, and began to circle the room, "Tenets that comprise the code of bushido. They are also at the core of what I consider 'manly'."
I DID miss the obvious. I AM a baka.
Nodoka pointed out each scroll as she passed beneath it:
"Rectitude - A martial artist must have moral integrity, an internalized guide to correctness in judgment and procedure.
"Valor - A martial artist must possess personal bravery, a strength of mind and spirit that enables one to face danger with determination and without hesitation.
"Benevolence - Kindness to others is a hallmark of the true martial artist.
"Respect - A martial artist must extend proper consideration and regard to others.
"Honesty - Not only an adherence to the facts but a fair and straightforward code of conduct.
"Loyalty - The true martial artist is faithful to others.
"Honor - The most important tenet of a martial artist, for without this all the other things I listed are meaningless. It is the highest adherence to ethical conduct."
Ranma's mother turned to face her son, "Ranma, do you understand these things? Any man who can uphold the Code can certainly indulge in the 'manly' things I have mentioned before, if he wishes; because his honor is above reproach."
"And I don't measure up."
"In some ways you do; but in others you are sorely lacking. I suspect that it is a result of your flawed training but there is nothing to be done for that right now."
I'm a failure.
Nodoka came up behind Ranma, and poured liquid from a flask into the cup on the table with her left hand. Her katana, unwrapped but still sheathed, was held in her right.
"Ranma, prepare yourself."
The porcelain cup resting on the sanbo table held warmed water. Ranma slowly raised the cup to his lips.
At least I can face death looking like a man. Even if I spill this I won't change.
Ranma was nervous enough to want to gulp the contents, but managed to drink in the proper two drafts, two sips in each.
"Do you have any parting words?"
Ranma looked at the paper and brush, but no poetry would come to mind except a few dirty limericks he'd remembered from his father and Tendo-san. He couldn't think of a proper poem in the waka style and doubted he could write one now that didn't focus on his own imminent death. Rather than insult his mother with something so inappropriate, he simply replied, "No."
"I apologize for not granting you sufficient time to prepare. If you do not have a statement, we should proceed."
Ranma faced the outer doors of the dojo, open to admit the rays of the morning sun. On the wall, he could see, in elegant script, the phrase 'Honor Above All' carved into a crossbeam by a student or workman. The Hiragana symbols stood out from the dark wood.
Ranma loosened his robe and shrugged it open, baring himself to the waist.
The small table was removed and, in its place, Nodoka set a tray before Ranma. The tray held only a folded paper fan.
Mom must really be disappointed in me to deny me a blade. Only children or people who can't be trusted with a blade are given such treatment, not men. She must not consider me a man at all, not even half of one.
Damn Jusenkyo curse. In the end, it stripped my manhood completely away.
He tucked the ends of his sleeves beneath his knees. He was now kneeling far more forward, a better position for his mother's sword stroke.
He stared at the fan, his face burning in shame.
Nodoka noticed her son's look, "Ranma, I will not ask you to commit traditional seppuku with a disemboweling blade but do not consider this an insult. The Saotome School of Anything Goes eschews the use of weapons, so I consider a kozuka to be an affront to your training. Also, although seppuku is an honorable act, I am your mother and would spare you that pain. I ask that you forgive me my weakness."
Ranma nodded, stiffly and silently, still kneeling. His face still burned, his gaze now facing the floor.
"What will happen next is this: I will stay my sword until you grasp the fan and move as if to inflict the fatal wound upon yourself in the ritual manner. At that time I will strike. I promise you, as your kaishakunin and as your mother, you will feel no pain."
The sword was drawn with a smooth, almost liquid sound: the whispered sound of an inhaled breath. Water dripped on the floor as the blade was treated to make a quick, clean cut.
"When you are ready."
Reflected light from the blade sketched odd patterns on the dojo walls as it was raised for the strike.
"I'm glad I could meet you as myself."
"Thank you for showing me the truth."
Ranma picked up the fan but did not open it. He took slow, measured breaths to calm himself, and moved.
Light flashed around the walls as the blade swung in a fast arc.
She was right. I didn't feel a thing.
The only sounds were of a bound pigtail falling to the hard wooden floor, and the katana being returned to its sheath in a sound like a disappointed sigh.
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Author's Note - This isn't the end! Honest!! I had actually prepared this chapter a couple of months ago; but wasn't sure about releasing it when I was experiencing severe writer's block on the following chapter. I had thought that I had an idea that would continue 'A Measure of Honor' (I wasn't too happy with the way my original plot was going) but that idea mutated into 'Dreamwalk With Me' instead (Great, I tell myself, now I have two plots to develop; double the writer's block, double the fun).
I still don't have the next chapter completed; but I'm a lot further along with it than I was two months ago (and some new ideas came up to help flesh out the plot a bit). At least I'm far enough along to feel confident that I won't leave this story cut short. After all, I've got the rest of the Ranma ½ cast to deal with.