Disclaimer: Harry Potter and co. belong to the one and only J.K Rowling..
and Ranma ½ belongs to the wonderful Rumiko Takahashi..* bursts into tears
* b-but you just wait!! When I take over the world they'll all belong to
me! ME!!! MWAHAHAHAHAH!!!! * cough * But as of now.. please don't sue, for
all I have are $7.65 in my piggybank, a Harry Potter pencil case and a
rather large Ranma ½ picture collection on my dads computer.
Read this carefully because I hate writing disclaimers (they're rather like pouring salt on my wounds) so this is the only chance you'll get to rub it in my face for the whole story! Heh.
'The most decisive actions of our life - I mean those that are most likely to decide the whole course of our future - are more often than not, unconsidered.' Andre Gide.
Prologue
Genma Saotome - as much as he hated to admit it, for real men can hold their liquor - was undeniable drunk. He staggered past yet another neat row of identical houses (Really! These people had no originality!) before sinking down in the shade of a large oak tree and plopping himself heavily down to sit on the curb.
Eyes dazed and head sluggish he reviewed on just how he came to be wondering the streets of who-knows-where, England, at such unholy hours of the morning.
* * *
There was a man, at a bar, whose features he could not quite recall. They had been playing cards and he'd won, for the other had been so far gone that the only response he got when he threw down the five aces that ended the game was a tiny snore and an incoherent mumble as the other man began to suck on his thumb.
Carefully, Genma had extracted his winnings - i.e. the slumped figure's jacket - before making a rather quick getaway.
After intense examination, he'd found with luck, a stuffed wallet, a cell- phone, and a mysterious package that after brief contemplation he tore open, containing a plane ticket to England.
Oh what luck!! He had thought.
It was as if the hands of fate were guiding him.
He had desperately needed to get away and what drops into his lap but a plane ticket to far away England!
He got through the customs easily enough, with a floppy hat and sunglasses that aided him in masquerading as Brian Wilson.
It was only too bad he realised, as he stepped off the plane at London airport, that he didn't speak a word of English.
Navigating through the busy streets of London was no easy task for someone as tactless and idiotic as Genma Saotome, which is why when he spied the telltale sign of a bar, he'd gone in without a moments hesitation.
After all, liquor was much the same everywhere and what he truly needed right then was exactly that - liquor.
After downing, well shall we say several glasses of good old- fashioned sake Genma thought he had perhaps fallen asleep, for the next thing he knew, he was slumped on the back seat of a taxi being driven to God-knows- where.
And when he next awoke he found himself lying on the side of the street he was currently stranded on with a much lighter wallet.
* * *
Mrs. M.Wilson, a thin woman with an angular face and dark brown hair streaked with grey which was at the moment sitting in a bun at the top of her head, was pacing the length of her living room on No.14 Privet Drive.
Her son was due to have arrived more than 3 hours ago, but right now there was no sign of him at all.
Her little boy, (although not so little anymore) had been chosen to represent his company at a very important convention in Japan, and apparently he was one of the youngest to be selected.
She felt pride surging within her.
Brilliant as he was, Brian could not take care of himself, knowing this she had especially written down her address to be placed in his jacket just in case.
She paused and peered out her window, it was already dark.
Worry etched her face.
What if something had happened? What if her baby was hurt?
Her poor little Brian could be lying dead in a gutter somewhere for she knew!
Her mind set, she reached for her phone to dial the local police station.
* * *
Genma Saotome was lying in a gutter, albeit not quite as dead as he would have wished.
He had a splitting headache, and the left side of his body not covered with the jacket he'd carelessly thrown on was numb with cold.
He considered getting up, a stone digging hard into his back swayed his decision.
Scrambling gracelessly onto his feet, he swayed unsteadily before taking a few tottering steps forward into the soft orange glow of the street light.
He winced at the sudden brightness.
After his eyes had adjusted he peered around taking in his surroundings.
It was a very normal looking street with normal looking little houses all lined up in tidy rows.
His eyes fell on a bundle of.. something at the steps of.. what was that?
He squinted - No.4
He edged closer, upon seeing the said bundle wriggle.
Cautiously extending his arm, he gave the bundle a little poke, the bundle wriggled again.
He took another step.
A set of bright green eyes peered up at him from within the bundle, Genma let out a gasp of surprise.
It was a baby!
A very cute baby, that was now studying him intently and gurgling.
A sudden painful onslaught of hidden memories and emotion caused Genma to double over before sinking to his knees.
He remembered.
Remembered why exactly he had so desperately needed to get away, remembered another toddler that used to study him in very much the same manner.
* * *
2 months ago:
Ranma Saotome, aged 2 and a half, was burning up with fever. His little chest rose up and down as he took in gulps of air.
Things were not looking well.
Genma knew what his son needed was professional medical care, but being situated in the middle of a dense forest, miles away from civilization prevented him from getting Ranma to a hospital that the little boy desperately needed.
Perhaps he should have listened to Nodoka, maybe Ranma was too small to begin training.
He shook his head viciously.
No. This was the boy's own fault. He was too weak. If he were stronger, then this would have never happened. Ranma would never make a great martial artist, the boy lacked too much spirit and he was ashamed to call such a weakling his son.
With a final look at the flushed face of his son, Genma Saotome left the shelter to go hunting for dinner.
* * *
Swearing mentally, Genma gave the thorn bush that had slashed open his forearm a good beating with his makeshift walking stick. Game was getting rarer these days, perhaps it was time to move camp again. Shifting the large hare he had managed to brain onto his left shoulder he continued to make his way back to camp.
It was late when he got there.
Having skinned the hare and leaving a large pot of water to boil over the open fire, he ducked into the tent to check on Ranma. Perhaps he was better now, and would not whine so pitifully at him.
He blinked in the sudden darkness of the tent and made his way over to the sleeping bag where his son lay.
He reached out an arm to feel the boy's forehead.
Cold.
Too cold.
A moment of panic seized him. Swooping the still figure of his son into his arms he began to call frantically.
'Ranma? Ranma? Can you hear me? Wake up!! Wake up!!'
He shook and shook the small body but there was no response.
Ranma Saotome was dead.
He vaguely remembered packing camp and burying Ranma beneath the rose bushes which the little boy had called 'pweety' the day they first arrived. Wondering aimlessly, with desperation to get far, far away, he pushed the memories back until he remembered no more.
* * *
He remembered now.
Oh Nodoka was going to flay him alive when she found out.
He straightened. Rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, he said sternly to himself.
'The boy was too weak. In this world, the strong thrived and the weak perished. That's just how things are.'
A giggle drew his attention and he looked down. The emerald-eyed toddler was reaching up for him, giggling at how the strange big man was talking to himself.
Genma stood frozen for a few seconds before an idea began to take root.
'I'm a genius' He thought. Now the look he gave the toddler was a cold calculating gaze. Reaching down he picked the green-eyed baby up.
'A boy.' He announced satisfactorily. There should be no problems now, sure, Ranma was gone, but now he had another boy to train and be his heir. Nodoka wouldn't mind, he was sure, besides this boy was cuter than Ranma had ever been. Nodding, he wrapped the baby back in his blankets and tucking the bundle under his arm, made his way to the end of the street and turning, disappeared from sight.
* * *
Two hours and ten or so minutes later, Mrs. Dursley of No.4 Privet Drive, swung open the front door to put out their milk bottles. Craning her head, she looked around to see if anything worth noting was going on, seeing nothing out of place and none of her neighbours up to spy on, she turned around and shut the door behind her.
* * *
Read this carefully because I hate writing disclaimers (they're rather like pouring salt on my wounds) so this is the only chance you'll get to rub it in my face for the whole story! Heh.
'The most decisive actions of our life - I mean those that are most likely to decide the whole course of our future - are more often than not, unconsidered.' Andre Gide.
Prologue
Genma Saotome - as much as he hated to admit it, for real men can hold their liquor - was undeniable drunk. He staggered past yet another neat row of identical houses (Really! These people had no originality!) before sinking down in the shade of a large oak tree and plopping himself heavily down to sit on the curb.
Eyes dazed and head sluggish he reviewed on just how he came to be wondering the streets of who-knows-where, England, at such unholy hours of the morning.
* * *
There was a man, at a bar, whose features he could not quite recall. They had been playing cards and he'd won, for the other had been so far gone that the only response he got when he threw down the five aces that ended the game was a tiny snore and an incoherent mumble as the other man began to suck on his thumb.
Carefully, Genma had extracted his winnings - i.e. the slumped figure's jacket - before making a rather quick getaway.
After intense examination, he'd found with luck, a stuffed wallet, a cell- phone, and a mysterious package that after brief contemplation he tore open, containing a plane ticket to England.
Oh what luck!! He had thought.
It was as if the hands of fate were guiding him.
He had desperately needed to get away and what drops into his lap but a plane ticket to far away England!
He got through the customs easily enough, with a floppy hat and sunglasses that aided him in masquerading as Brian Wilson.
It was only too bad he realised, as he stepped off the plane at London airport, that he didn't speak a word of English.
Navigating through the busy streets of London was no easy task for someone as tactless and idiotic as Genma Saotome, which is why when he spied the telltale sign of a bar, he'd gone in without a moments hesitation.
After all, liquor was much the same everywhere and what he truly needed right then was exactly that - liquor.
After downing, well shall we say several glasses of good old- fashioned sake Genma thought he had perhaps fallen asleep, for the next thing he knew, he was slumped on the back seat of a taxi being driven to God-knows- where.
And when he next awoke he found himself lying on the side of the street he was currently stranded on with a much lighter wallet.
* * *
Mrs. M.Wilson, a thin woman with an angular face and dark brown hair streaked with grey which was at the moment sitting in a bun at the top of her head, was pacing the length of her living room on No.14 Privet Drive.
Her son was due to have arrived more than 3 hours ago, but right now there was no sign of him at all.
Her little boy, (although not so little anymore) had been chosen to represent his company at a very important convention in Japan, and apparently he was one of the youngest to be selected.
She felt pride surging within her.
Brilliant as he was, Brian could not take care of himself, knowing this she had especially written down her address to be placed in his jacket just in case.
She paused and peered out her window, it was already dark.
Worry etched her face.
What if something had happened? What if her baby was hurt?
Her poor little Brian could be lying dead in a gutter somewhere for she knew!
Her mind set, she reached for her phone to dial the local police station.
* * *
Genma Saotome was lying in a gutter, albeit not quite as dead as he would have wished.
He had a splitting headache, and the left side of his body not covered with the jacket he'd carelessly thrown on was numb with cold.
He considered getting up, a stone digging hard into his back swayed his decision.
Scrambling gracelessly onto his feet, he swayed unsteadily before taking a few tottering steps forward into the soft orange glow of the street light.
He winced at the sudden brightness.
After his eyes had adjusted he peered around taking in his surroundings.
It was a very normal looking street with normal looking little houses all lined up in tidy rows.
His eyes fell on a bundle of.. something at the steps of.. what was that?
He squinted - No.4
He edged closer, upon seeing the said bundle wriggle.
Cautiously extending his arm, he gave the bundle a little poke, the bundle wriggled again.
He took another step.
A set of bright green eyes peered up at him from within the bundle, Genma let out a gasp of surprise.
It was a baby!
A very cute baby, that was now studying him intently and gurgling.
A sudden painful onslaught of hidden memories and emotion caused Genma to double over before sinking to his knees.
He remembered.
Remembered why exactly he had so desperately needed to get away, remembered another toddler that used to study him in very much the same manner.
* * *
2 months ago:
Ranma Saotome, aged 2 and a half, was burning up with fever. His little chest rose up and down as he took in gulps of air.
Things were not looking well.
Genma knew what his son needed was professional medical care, but being situated in the middle of a dense forest, miles away from civilization prevented him from getting Ranma to a hospital that the little boy desperately needed.
Perhaps he should have listened to Nodoka, maybe Ranma was too small to begin training.
He shook his head viciously.
No. This was the boy's own fault. He was too weak. If he were stronger, then this would have never happened. Ranma would never make a great martial artist, the boy lacked too much spirit and he was ashamed to call such a weakling his son.
With a final look at the flushed face of his son, Genma Saotome left the shelter to go hunting for dinner.
* * *
Swearing mentally, Genma gave the thorn bush that had slashed open his forearm a good beating with his makeshift walking stick. Game was getting rarer these days, perhaps it was time to move camp again. Shifting the large hare he had managed to brain onto his left shoulder he continued to make his way back to camp.
It was late when he got there.
Having skinned the hare and leaving a large pot of water to boil over the open fire, he ducked into the tent to check on Ranma. Perhaps he was better now, and would not whine so pitifully at him.
He blinked in the sudden darkness of the tent and made his way over to the sleeping bag where his son lay.
He reached out an arm to feel the boy's forehead.
Cold.
Too cold.
A moment of panic seized him. Swooping the still figure of his son into his arms he began to call frantically.
'Ranma? Ranma? Can you hear me? Wake up!! Wake up!!'
He shook and shook the small body but there was no response.
Ranma Saotome was dead.
He vaguely remembered packing camp and burying Ranma beneath the rose bushes which the little boy had called 'pweety' the day they first arrived. Wondering aimlessly, with desperation to get far, far away, he pushed the memories back until he remembered no more.
* * *
He remembered now.
Oh Nodoka was going to flay him alive when she found out.
He straightened. Rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, he said sternly to himself.
'The boy was too weak. In this world, the strong thrived and the weak perished. That's just how things are.'
A giggle drew his attention and he looked down. The emerald-eyed toddler was reaching up for him, giggling at how the strange big man was talking to himself.
Genma stood frozen for a few seconds before an idea began to take root.
'I'm a genius' He thought. Now the look he gave the toddler was a cold calculating gaze. Reaching down he picked the green-eyed baby up.
'A boy.' He announced satisfactorily. There should be no problems now, sure, Ranma was gone, but now he had another boy to train and be his heir. Nodoka wouldn't mind, he was sure, besides this boy was cuter than Ranma had ever been. Nodding, he wrapped the baby back in his blankets and tucking the bundle under his arm, made his way to the end of the street and turning, disappeared from sight.
* * *
Two hours and ten or so minutes later, Mrs. Dursley of No.4 Privet Drive, swung open the front door to put out their milk bottles. Craning her head, she looked around to see if anything worth noting was going on, seeing nothing out of place and none of her neighbours up to spy on, she turned around and shut the door behind her.
* * *