Disclaimer: The concept of Ranma 1/2 and Naruto belongs to Rumiko Takahashi, and Masashi Kishimoto. This is a product of pure amusement values, with no profits made.
"Every time I think I have you figured out, you go ahead and do something that surprise the hell out of me." Orochimaru said suddenly, snapping Ranma out of his dozing. Fumbling for a moment, his hands groped along the tiles, encountering moveable smoothness, and slipped.
He winced as the porcelain bottle tumbled its merry way down the roof, and crashed, loudly to his ears, on the cobblestone streets below.
"Oops..." The pigtailed man rubbed his bleary-eyes, the silk shirt he wore reflecting silver-crimson under the moonlight. "Is this about my err... training trip? I have the Hokage's permission..."
"No." Exasperation. "I was thinking more along the lines of a certain event that occurred... oh... two months ago, before you dropped off to nowhere."
Blue eyes looked away. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Hn."
A moment of uncomfortable silence. Ranma kept his eyes glued to the curving moon.
"Tsunade's been tearing up a fit since you disappeared."
"...Oops."
"Don't you have anything else to say aside from that?"
"...No?" He offered tentatively.
Crisp pine and damp moss shifted behind him, Ranma turned, blinking up at the shinobi. Golden eyes considered him thoughtfully.
Ranma shivered under the intense scrutiny, knowing, hating, empathizing, fearing, and the simple sense of understanding it held. He was the first to look away, rolling his shoulders and resisting the urge to smile and wince at the same time.
"Uncomfortable?" Orochimaru murmured.
"Eh?" Ranma looked down at himself. The silk shirt was as smooth as he had remembered, yet strange against his skin. The drawstring pants felt oddly off, and he was conscious of the insides of his slippers rubbing against his feet.
"You wore this outfit when you first arrived here." Statement.
"Yeah..." Ranma whispered. "It's strange... that..."
...smooth white, lined with a thin layer of metal, a small weight on his chest and shoulders, and another one on his left thigh, his right leg always felt stiffer than his left, due to the rolls of bandages wrapped around the other thigh, the katana ever present on his back...
"That it no longer suits you." Orochimaru continued.
I am... a martial artist... Aren't I?
A hitched breath, and Ranma quickly lurched to his feet. Anger. Fear. Confusion. A whirl of jumbled thoughts and emotions overwhelming his mind to its very limit. "I'm leaving."
Cold, strong hand grabbed him by the arm, and he hissed... in pain.
An eyebrow rose, Orochimaru pushed up the red sleeve, and stared at the layer of bandages wrapped around the arm.
Ranma shook his head, and pushed the mask to the top of his head, wincing as the movement brought a fresh burst of pain from the wound on his arm...
"It's just a scratch." Ranma frowned, unsuccessful in wrenching his arm out of the shinobi's hand.
Cool fingers plucked the knot, unrolling the bandages inch by inch until the single streak of crimson was revealed under the moonlight.
"It's just a scratch." Ranma repeated.
Orochimaru's eyes narrowed. "Find that Hyuuga medic-nin. Now."
"Why should I? I'm not due for a session with her for another week." Confusion.
"Ranma... it's still bleeding."
-------
"I have made a mistake." She stated, violet hair curling around her face in disarray, the veins fading around iris-less eyes.
"What are you talking about?" Ranma snarled from the chair, a sickened feeling making itself known in the pit of his stomach.
"By opening certain Chakra points on your body," She gestured to her pouch, "I am able to re-direct a number of non-disrupted Chakra pathways within your body to override the mark, very briefly," She paused, "Given time, and extensive treatment, perhaps it will become permanent."
"The Chakra pathways... They..." She paused, milky eyes softening. "They were undisrupted for a reason, it seemed."
"That's nice." Ranma retorted sarcastically. "What the hell does this mean?! For me?!"
Milky-white eyes looked away. "You're dying, Ranma... Ran-san."
He took a deep breath, then another. "Repeat that, if you please."
"You're dying, Ran-san."
"...Explain."
"Because I have changed the Chakra pathways, your bodily functions..." She counted, "Breathing, molecular healing, the beating of your heart, the performance of your internal organs, are being disrupted on a much, much more complex scale. The pathways that I have altered... seems to be... no... are what kept your body alive, and now..."
"Now what?" He asked, the feeling intensifying in his stomach.
"Now... your body is decaying, however slowly, at the same time that you're growing stronger, regaining the strength that was lost due to the mark... simply because of the lack of sufficient Chakra to support its more basic functions."
"How do I stop this?" He gritted out.
She nibbled her lips. "I could... try to re-direct the Chakra pathways to their original state, since the decay is still at its beginning stage... but... the strain placed on your body could very well kill you..."
One step at a time... to where?
"It is not too late to find a medium, since the Chakra pathways have not settled into a permanent state." Orochimaru suddenly spoke from the side. "You'll still be able to maintain some of your strength, and slow down the rate of your body's... decomposition to a more manageable rate."
A flash of revelation.
Stormy blue eyes snapped up, seeking contact with gold. "You knew. You knew this would happen!"
Orochimaru was silent, curtain of raven hiding his face.
Fingernails dug into the palm of his hands, drawing blood. "Why?"
"You were the means to what I wanted, Ran."
A bitter bark of a laugh. "Well... shit."
A pale chin dipped. Acknowledgement. Acceptance. Apology. And the shinobi was gone in a flicker of black and white.
"... Shit." Ranma repeated softly, cursing up a fine storm under his breath. A hand touched his shoulder gently, milky eyes bore into stormy blue.
"I'm so sorry..." Her other hand curling around the base of his pigtail, and he gave in to the hug, wrapping his arms around her waist, sinking himself into the single moment of comfort. Breathing in the soft scent of her, and soaking in the warm of a feminine body, it felt... nice...
"What are you doing?!"
... if only for a moment.
Ranma looked up as she stepped away, a mixture of surprise and guilt replacing her typical composed visage.
The young man, boy, rather, no older than fifteen years of age, yet carried himself with an overwhelming sense of arrogance as he stomped into the room, his Byakugan eyes activated with a twisting frown on his face.
An opened palm strike, seeking contact with his bared chest. "Get away from my wife!"
Ranma flipped over the table with liquid grace, bouncing off of the wall and crouched down in a three-point stance to the boy's side. Anger. Annoyance. Frustration. Surprise. "What. The. Hell!"
"Hiashi-sama!" She called, wringing her hands as the boy's eyes narrowed, his feet shifting into an unfamiliar stance. "This isn't... please stop... it's not what it looks like!"
"Hyuuga-san..." Ranma stood up wearily, "Don't tell me this brat's your husband?"
Milky-white eyes looked down, and the curtain of dark violet pooled in, but not before he caught the flash of depressing resignation in them.
Hyuuga Hiashi stiffened, baring his teeth as he looked away from his silent wife to the pigtailed man. "You... you dare to call me a brat?! You... you damned womanizing deviant!"
"Saotome! You enemy of all women! DIE!"Mousse raised his swords, and charged.
"Oh no..." Ranma held up a hand at the boy, "I so do not need this shit right now."
"Shut. Up!" A blur of black streaked toward him. Ranma parried, but the moment of hesitation caused a hand to brush him lightly on the shoulder, soon followed by daggers of bone-wrenching pain. He gasped, and instinctively kneed the boy viciously in the chest before leaping back.
Cough. Droplets of saliva spew from the boy's mouth, but he stood strong and ready.
"Stop this. Please." Slim hands tugged at the boy's arm.
Slap. She reared back, fumbling and falling to her back from the force of his hand. "Shut up. Whore."
Blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. Ice. "Hyuuga-san did not deserve to be treated in that manner."
The boy snorted, veins re-appearing around his Byakugan eyes as he shifted into the stance once more. "She's my wife... get ready to die."
"Fine!" Ranma snapped, raising his uninjured arm up, "I need to relieve some stress!"
"You stand no chance!" Black blurred towards him once more, anger and hate rolling off of the boy in choking waves.
One.
"Tch." He flipped over the boy, one hand pressed on the mess of dark hair, a twist of his other wrist...
Two.
...and slammed his feet down on the boy's lower back, hard, as the familiar metal handle slipped into his free hand...
Three.
Knees soon followed, pinning at the sensitive joints on the shoulder as the body crumpled down...
Four.
...a kunai was pressed against the boy's exposed throat.
All three froze.
"I am..." Ranma began softly, the kunai unwavering, "Not going to kill you. But in exchange, I want you to release Hyuuga-san from..."
"No." Blue eyes snapped up to milky-white. "Thank you, Ran-san, but I cannot accept this."
"But..."
"No." She pushed back a stray strand of dark violet, the side of her cheek bruising from the previous slap. Milky-white eyes held the sadness and resignation echoing his own. "This is my grave."
Ranma looked down to his silent captive. "How old are you, brat?"
"... Hn." The boy winced when the sharp edge of the kunai pressed into his skin. "Fourteen."
A quirked brow. "A bit young, aren't you?"
His captive did not bother with a reply, veined eyes pressed shut.
Anger. Fear. Hatred. Humiliation...
"Tch." Ranma stepped off of the boy, "Kids."
"Hakke Rokujyuu Yonshou!" Byakugan snapped open.
"Wha..." Pain flared with each strike, and he stumbled, allowing himself to be carried by their forces, the boy's murderous rage thick around him.
Sixty-four points... leading to a... ha!
Ranma staggered as the final blow was delivered to his chest, dropping to one knee.
"And now..." Milky-white eyes looked down to stormy blue. "You will die."
"Tch." He smirked, unmindful of the blood that spilt past parting lips. He clenched his fist, testing the strength of his arm... Acceptable.
"Hiryuu Shoten Ha!"
-------
Slam.
Ranma winced as the large doors slammed loudly behind him. He pressed his back against the solid oak, the adrenaline of battle fading, leaving only the sick clench in his stomach behind.
"Ran?"
He looked up to familiar brown eyes, unconscious of the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.
The Chuunin girl blinked, taking a small step back. "Is this a bad time? I could come back later... I'll just... I'll just be going now."
One step at a time... But to where? Already lost on the way home... Lost.
"Hey..." He called out to the girl. A child, really, compared to his withered mind.
"Mmm?" Akane's voice, Akane's face, Akane's eyes, Akane's smile. Not Akane. But it's enough... enough for...
What am I doing?
"Will you..." He cleared his throat, "Will you..."
-------
TIMELINE – Year Six, mid-May.
Can we say... tick tock tick tock tic tock... BOOM!
Note of thanks again to the nifty people at the anifics forum, grammar and spelling are so not my thing.
And remember, kids, doing the 64-pokies on Ranma have drastic results! So don't do it! XD
Oh, also. If you're still confused by the story... well... you shouldn't be, for one, but if you are... like I said before, try to enjoy it, and see it, as it progress, instead of going 'where's the starting point?' Because there isn't one, Of Dreams and Memories began in the middle, and works its way down towards the end... So there!