Eldritch Asylum
obsidian-fox and Xylix
Started: September 14, 2004
Last Update: January 4, 2005
Disclaimer: Many characters used in this story were not originally conceived by the author. Ranma ½, Harry Potter, and various other works of literature and art are used. This work is not for commercial use. I appeal to Copyright Fair Use in keeping this work legal; as such, I consider it fair use for you (whoever you are) to use any original characters or settings in derived works, should you choose to write one.
Eldritch Asylum may be archived.
Chapter Two: Ashes
Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And eat men like air
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963)
-oOo-
The door opens and Elinore turns to see who enters. A couple of hours of twiddling her thumbs and reading Dentistry was enough force even Elinore to relax her formal bearing, even though she happens to be sitting in the main Headwing's office.
"Ah good, Mr. Ogden. May I see your results?" the stern, old headmistress asks.
Mr. Ogden is handsome, well-built, young man, which is a little unusual at the all-girls school. The man steps forward, adjusting his glasses, and places a folder upon the headmistress's desk. His eyes flicker briefly to Elinore, and he gives her the slightest quirk of the lips.
Elinore postulates that the female teachers of the school hired him as a bit of eye candy, and lets her own eyes eat their fill once he looks away. Then she turns to watch the headmistress.
The severe woman flips through the pages offered. While her eyes peruse the documents she asks, "And what is your opinion of Ranma's tests?"
"She did surprisingly well, especially given the rocky start. The girl seems to excel in mathematics and science. Her results are nothing short of spectacular in the former; she is at least four years ahead of her fellow students, maybe more."
The headmistress nods, her eyes focusing on the papers. Elinore blinks in surprise at her daughter's success. Given two years in an asylum it is difficult to believe that Ranma would actually be ahead of her fellow students. Then again, her new little girl seems to be full of surprises.
"However, her reading skills are at least a year behind, she has large gaps in her vocabulary, and her spelling and handwriting are atrocious. That, however, is to be expected given that English seems to be her second language," Mr. Ogden continues.
The elderly woman frowns slightly and shifts her eyes to Elinore questioningly. Elinore offers a subtle, yet uninformative smile. Eyes burrow into Elinore for a moment then refocus upon Mr. Ogden. "I see... It seems that she has written some of her answers in her preferred language. Do you think her hold on English will be a problem?"
Mr. Ogden shakes his head. "Her spoken English is very good for a girl her age, at least once you get her talking... She doesn't seem shy so much as she simply doesn't like speaking." The man pauses in contemplation, then shakes his head once more before adding, "Well, it's not like we're short on the talkative sort. I believe her literacy is of greatest concern."
The headmistress nods, pausing in thought. Finally she closes the folder and speaks, "What do you think Mr. Ogden?"
"I believe she will make an excellent addition to the school. However, I would suggest a tutor or some remedial classes to bring her literacy level up to par."
"Thank you Mr. Ogden. You may leave. Find a class for the child, and see what you can do about placing her in an advanced math course." As the man nods and exits, the stern woman fixes Elinore with a sharp gaze. "It seems that your daughter will be joining us. If possible I think it would be best if she started today. Do you have any objections, Mrs. Granger?"
"No. Not at all," Elinore says with a smile.
"Good good, I trust you know when classes complete?"
"Of course," Elinore replies. She stands and collects her purse from the ground.
"Well then, good day to you Mrs. Granger."
"Good day to you as well."
-oOo-
After giving Mr. Ogden a final glance, Ranma trots into the room. The teacher, a plump woman about the same age as Elinore, immediately glances up from the chalk board and offers Ranma a smile. Ranma doesn't return it. Instead, Ranma looks around the room, eyes curious and body humming with vibrant energy.
The room is filled with children, all of them girls around her own age. Most watch her silently, their gazes fixed. Others take advantage of the opportunity to whisper amongst themselves. Each sits behind a small desk facing the front of the room where the teacher stands. There, on the chalk board, she has written a simple sentence.
The letters squirm slightly in Ranma's eyes, but a blink later they are still. "A child ran swiftly to the tree." That is how they read. The teacher has underlined the word child. Just below on its own hangs the word subject, declaring the nature of the underlined word.
"Class I would like you to welcome our new student, Ranma Granger. I'm told she's a little shy, so please do your best to welcome her," the teacher announces to the girls. She gestures for Ranma to come closer. After a moment the redhead does so, and the woman places a gentle hand on the girl's shoulders and turns her to face the class.
"Now, Ranma, would you like to introduce yourself?" the teacher asks warmly.
Ranma pulls away from the woman and tugs uncomfortably at the dress that Elinore stuck her in. It is Hermione's old uniform, a pleated sight of blue and white with long blue sleeves and skirt, which falls below her knees. It doesn't quite feel right. While she fiddles, the eyes of the class dig into her. She raises her own to meet them. What is a good introduction? Konichiwa, Ranma desu. She considers her words and then she speaks, forging each word with difficulty. "Hello. I am... Ranma."
The teacher gives her a sidelong glance, and her smile fades subtly, but retains its warmth. The audience continues to stare at her impassively.
Ranma gazes at her audience, deciding whether her introduction wasn't enough. After a moment she relents and adds, "Watashi no ketsu eki gata wa B desu." Ranma swallows a grimace as the words writhe about, squirming like worms in her mouth before finding their way out, leaving behind the taste of ash. "My blood-type is B."
This elicits a few hushed whispers and a small giggle. A chair squeaks as a they shift in their seats.
What's left of the teacher's strained smile vanishes. She says tersely, "If you are all done, there is a seat available in the third row at the back. My name is Mrs. Pearson. For now just pay attention; we'll get you some books soon enough. Lunch will be in about an hour."
Ranma nods and heads to her seat. The nearby girls watch her pass. Some give smiles of welcome, others pay her no mind at all. A few offer haughty glances, but when she gazes back the offending eyes drop and turn away.
Ranma spends the next hour attempting to puzzle out what the teacher is doing. She can understand it, almost recognize it, in an odd manner, but the knowledge seems distant.
"All right class, it's time for lunch," Mrs. Pearson finally says, concluding the lesson.
The words break Ranma's musings. Perking up at the thought of food, she bounces energetically to her feet. For a moment she watches as the girls around her break into speech, conversations merging into a generic feminine babble as they move to the doorway. After a second, unsure where to go without a little direction, Ranma follows her class and quickly gets lost among the throng of girls swarming from the other classrooms into the hall.
But at least they are all headed in the same direction.
A few minutes later, in the Headwing's mess hall, Ranma escapes the crowd of girls. She quickly discovers that ahead of her is another bottleneck as the students squeeze into the kitchens to pick up some food then shuffle through the few payment lines, all the while talking loudly to one another as each girl tries to make herself heard over the resulting din.
That way lies lunch, Ranma decides. She considers jumping over their heads, but then remembers some practical advice from Gareth over this morning's breakfast: Try not to stand out too much. Don't jump over people's heads, don't change into a boy, and especially don't provoke any fights or hurt anyone. Be nice. Try to make friends, and try to have fun. It will be easier if people aren't scared of you. He had ruffled her hair a bit and told her, "Good luck," before giving her a quick hug on the way out.
She really likes his hugs, burying herself deep in his sweaters and feeling his strong arms wrap tightly around her torso. She craves the affection more than anything.
Except, maybe, food.
Smiling fondly at the memory she decides to try his advice by not jumping over their heads. Instead she starts weaving expertly through the throng towards the kitchens. A few minutes later, amid enraged shouts of "Hey! No cuts!" and "What do you think you're doing?" she swerves between the taller girls and back into the mess hall, precariously balancing a tray of food in each hand and one on her head.
She spots an empty table and carefully begins to set her trays down when-
"Hello!" a bright, cheerful voice exclaims from behind.
Ranma resists the urge to whirl around. Not only had Dickson told her it scares him when she does stuff like that, but she'd also lose the precious contents of her trays with such a sudden maneuver. Instead she turns slowly, and finds herself looking up into a pair of deep blue eyes behind a cute little nose. The girl leans closer as if getting a good look at Ranma. Then, straightening up, she offers a wide grin.
"Here, let me help with that!" the girl says, grabbing the tray from Ranma's head and setting it on the table. "My name's Kathryn. I usually sit here. Ooh! Lasagna! My favorite. Mind if I have a bite?" she asks enthusiastically.
Is it 'yes' to say I mind or 'no' to say she can't have any? Ranma, unsure of how to answer, simply nods.
"Thanks! I owe you one," says Kathryn as she sits down and starts eating the lasagna. She certainly takes more than a bite.
Ranma blinks a few times before setting her remaining trays within reach. She eyes the rapidly disappearing lasagna for a few seconds. Then she shrugs and begins eating.
After downing her milk, Kathryn gasps out, "That was great! I hate dealing with those crowds. Say, you must be new here. We don't see too many new faces in Headwings, especially in the middle of the year. You just start?"
Ranma nods quietly, as she grabs another bite from her lunch tray.
Kathryn finally turns from her tray to look at the girl. "Wow, you eat a lot. But you don't talk much. That's fine; Audrey says I talk enough for everyone. I think we'll get along just fine!" Kathryn flashes a brilliant smile at the girl. "Wanna be friends?"
Ranma pauses, fork halfway to her mouth, and casts a cautious look at Kathryn, searching for any hint of insincerity. After a moment, Ranma sets the fork down and turns a smile to the taller girl. Then the redhead nods once, resolutely.
Kathryn's smile breaks into a grin.
"Hey, Kate. Who's this? I brought your fav- Oh. I see you've already eaten," says a mousy girl as she approaches the table struggling to carry two trays and a book.
"Ah... heh. Well, I sort of hijacked part of her meal," Kathryn answers, jerking a thumb at Ranma. "You can just give her mine. Oh, and... this is my best friend, Audrey. I hope you can be her friend, too. Err... what is your name, anyways?" Kathryn grins dumbly and scratches her neck.
Ranma examines Audrey briefly. She has hazelnut eyes and long brown hair in a thick braid. The shape of her jaw and those little ears poking through her hair give her that cute but somewhat mousy look.
In return, Audrey examines Ranma. Her eyes widen as she sees two nearly empty trays sitting in front of the girl.
"You must be really hungry. You going through a growth spurt?" Audrey says finally, setting the tray of lasagna near Ranma. Then Audrey sits down and silently takes a bite from her own meal.
Ranma doesn't answer, instead dragging the tray closer to herself with a finger while staring at it with a predatory grin.
For a moment, the awkward silence between the children sings loudly over the cafeteria's clamor.
"Eh... heh," starts Kathryn elegantly.
"Why don't we each say a little something about ourselves," suggests Audrey. "I'm Audrey Knight, age ten. My favorite thing is reading," she says, briefly displaying her book to Ranma.
"I'm Kathryn Keynes, but all my friends call me Kate, so you can call me Kate. I like drawing and fishing and bicycling and computers and movies and music and... but my favorite thing is definitely computers! ... Or maybe drawing, but I'm really excited about computers! Oh, yeah, I'm ten too, but I'll be turning eleven next week. And I already know what I'm getting for my birthday! My dad got me a brand-new computer!"
Audrey groans audibly.
Kathryn continues, "It just arrived, and my dad says I can't unwrap it until my birthday, but I already know what it is anyway! It's a top-of-the-line machine with a twenty megahertz four-eighty-six processor, four megabytes RAM, and even an eighty megabyte hard drive!" The girl's dark blue eyes glow fervently as she speaks.
Ranma shifts backwards as she weathers the torrent of nonsensical words.
"You're scaring her," says Audrey, amused.
"I'm not scared!" retorts Ranma suddenly. Once again she feels the words twist unpleasantly in her mouth from her native tongue into British English, and once again they leave behind that awful ashen aftertaste. Ranma grimaces, and swishes a little milk in her mouth, but the taste lingers. Then she sighs and decides to deal with it. "I'm Ranma Sao-... Granger, age, um..., nine."
"Wow! She talks!" Katherine exclaims after a moment.
"Of course she talks. So, Ranma Sao Granger, what sort of things interest you?" asks Audrey.
'Sao-.' Ranma blinks, wondering where that came from. She almost regrets stopping it... perhaps a scrap of her past, locked away in muscle memory? Even though it rolled off the tongue like it was natural, the rest of her doesn't remember anything starting with 'Sao-' at all.
"Just Ranma, please. ... I don't know much about computers and books."
Kathryn interrupts, "That's okay! We can teach you, if you want. But even if you don't like them we can still be friends, right? So tell us what you do like."
Ranma stares at Kathryn for a few seconds, then slowly smiles. "I like martial arts and," Ranma blushes, "I sorta like cooking."
Audrey giggles a bit before stifling it with a hand. "You like karate and cooking, and you're embarrassed about the cooking. You sound like a real tomboy."
Ranma pauses, then grins and nods.
Kathryn smiles. "Well, it's good you admit it. But, even if you're a tomboy, why are you embarrassed about liking to cook?" she asks. "My dad loves cooking. You should come over and eat with us sometime! I'm sure he'd be happy to let you help cook. Audrey's grandmother is also pretty good. She makes an outstanding rhubarb pie, and I know she'd love to teach it to you. Neither Audrey nor I can cook very well, so she hasn't been able to teach it to us. So what do you think? Wanna come?"
Ranma nods once more, resolutely.
For a while the three girls sit in silence. Audrey and Ranma eat a few bites of their meals.
"... I think I'd like to welcome you as a friend, too," says Audrey cautiously. She sticks her hand out for Ranma to grasp. "Friends?"
Ranma's eyes widen, her smile glows, and she grasps the hand greedily, pulling it to her chest with both of her smaller hands holding Audrey's larger one.
Audrey winces as she stumbles forward under the younger girl's strength. Then she forces a smile as she disengages her hand from Ranma's. "You're very strong," she says after a moment, massaging her thumb.
Ranma notices the strain in the smile and lowers her eyes, looking away. "Sorry..."
"It's okay," says Kathryn, wrapping an arm around the redhead's shoulders. "Isn't it Audrey?" she adds, casting a glare in her best friend's direction.
Audrey hesitates still nursing her hand, then says, "Yes, of course it is." Audrey wraps one of the girl's small hands within her own. "I am sure it was just an accident, so you don't need to worry."
Slowly Ranma looks up at Audrey and Kathryn. She offers a tenuous smile, her bright blue orbs shrouded by long strands of red hair. In irritation, and with a brief scowl, Ranma reaches up and swats the red locks to the side.
Audrey lets out a small giggle. "Here..." she says, trailing off with a look of determination on her face. She moves around to Ranma's back and her hands begin deftly slipping through the red hair. "You should braid it like I do. That way it won't get in your eyes," Audrey offers as she continues her work. Then she hits a snag... or, more accurately, several of them.
Ranma scowls as her head jerks painfully to the side several times, then squirms about trying to see what Audrey is doing.
Audrey pauses as the Ranma's head shifts in her hands. "You have quite a few snarls in your hair. It isn't right, not taking care of beautiful hair like this..." For a while longer, Audrey continues running her fingers run through the red strands, dismantling tangles, and Ranma squirms a bit more. "Do you want me to braid it?"
Ranma pauses, then eventually nods. "... Yes, please," she adds. She works to recall those words in English and is rewarded as they fly from her mouth without twisting themselves into knots, leaving behind no ashen aftertaste.
"Then sit down and don't move your head. You'll mess me up," Audrey orders brusquely before resuming activity.
Kathryn sighs as she watches Audrey quickly work Ranma's hair into a braid. "She is so good at that. I can never figure out how to braid my hair."
"That's probably because you don't have enough hair to braid, Kate."
Kathryn runs a hand through her own short-cropped dirty-blond hair, then sighs once more, forlorn.
"There. Done," Audrey announces, releasing Ranma's head.
Ranma's reaches back, exploring what was done. Her hair is braided deeply to the top of her head, and the braid itself is long and thick, reaching just past her waist, where it is tied off with a small bit of white ribbon. Having her hair in a braid feels strangely comfortable.
"Do you like it?" Audrey asks as Ranma examines the braid by dangling it in front of her.
Ranma nods, then turns a bright smile on Audrey. "... Thanks. I... like it."
Audrey grins, satisfied.
"It also makes you look sooo cute! You should grow it even longer!" Kathryn adds.
Ranma shrinks into herself slightly, embarrassed. Still the attention feels good.
After a while, Ranma perks up, watching the two as they begin to engage in a little banter. What little food remains on her trays is forgotten. Friends... It feels good to have friends.
-oOo-
It was a day in late November when Mrs. Pearson popped the question.
"Okay, class. It's really nice out today, and we can't look forward to any more days like this before Winter settles in. What would you say to an extra-long recess?" she had asked.
This was, of course, no question.
Shortly thereafter, the girls of Mrs. Pearson's class, and even plump Mrs. Pearson herself, are chatting in the Autumn grounds of Headwings academy. A gentle breeze carries warmth, the scent of grass, and fallen leaves. Yet still there is a touch of chill struggling to survive the rising morning sun within the shadows of the trees.
Ranma takes a minute to inhale deeply, slowly, enjoying the potpourri of scents and sensations, the kiss of sun and air's caress upon her face. Ranma relaxes, absorbing all.
It was something Kathryn taught her to do one day when she was taking her drawing seriously. It was also something Ranma had come to enjoy immensely, at least when the moment is right. However, this particular moment is interrupted as a pair of girls walk behind Ranma, jabbering incessantly. Ranma sighs and turns minutely to look without staring at them.
"I heard a brilliant story earlier today," says a girl Ranma recognizes as April to her friend, June.
"What of it?" replies June, sounding uninterested.
"If you aren't really interested, I'll just have to find someone else to tell," says April, before continuing regardless. "Anyhow, I heard from my friend in music class who knows a girl from her Summer swimming class who's cousin knows this girl called Marissa, at least that is what I think her name is... anyway Marissa's cousin was saved by an angel!"
"Reeeaaally? Did it have wings?" June teases.
"Hey, if you don't want to hear it -" April starts.
"- you'll tell it to me anyway," June finishes. She sighs. "This had better be good."
"It is good, thank you very much. Apparently, this handsome guy named William was getting kicked and beat by a gang of three evil school bullies. They had surrounded him to keep him from escaping."
June raises her brow. "What did William do that so upset these 'evil bullies'?"
April shrugs. "They're evil bullies, so they were being evil and bullying. They were laughing as they tortured the poor guy. But, and this is important, not all the bullies were equally vicious. The cruelest, meanest bully just kept hitting William. Even when William was on the ground, coughing up blood, that bully just kept on kicking William over and over in the face and belly and even in the bollocks, all the while howling with laughter."
June cringes. "That sounds painful."
April ignores June's commentary and and continues, "The second bully also punched and kicked William, but stopped after William was down. After William was on the ground, the bully started psycho-logy, psycho-, err... mentally torturing William by insulting him and tearing up William's homework and intimation."
"That's 'psychologically', and I hope you meant 'intimidation'," corrects June.
"Thanks. 'Psycho-logic-ally.' 'In-timi-dation.' I think I have it now.
"Well, the third bully was a wimp. Instead of hitting William, he was busy stealing anything valuable from William's backpack, like homework they could copy before class and lunch money and William's calculator. He also encouraged his companions, cheering them on. But he also told the first bully to not hit William in the face, because William can't hide injuries to his face and would need to tell teachers. I don't really understand... why wouldn't William tell even if he wasn't hit in the face?" asks April.
June shrugs. "Boys are weird like that. Maybe they could intimidate him to keep him from talking."
April considers that for a moment, then nods. "Anyhow, William was lying there in a pool of his own blood, feeling like he was about to die. He didn't want to die, so he prayed to be saved. He prayed for justice. He prayed for revenge."
At this point April pauses dramatically.
"And?" asks June, yawning.
April scowls. "You're no fun at all! Well, his prayers were answered. An angel descended from the very heavens, her blood-red hair waving in the wind and enormous, white wings-"
"You just added that, didn't you?" June accuses.
April glares at her friend then continues, "and enormous, white, feathery wings. The evil bullies backed away fearfully, but she had no mercy. The angel punished them all.
"The meanest, cruelest first bully she struck down with her own fists and feet, just as the bully had done to William. She gave him a chance to fight back, but as an angel she was faster and stronger than the boy. And after the bully was defeated and on the floor, she kicked him once more while he was down, in the face, shattering his jaw, snapping his neck, and killing the boy instantly."
June's eyes widen and she listens with rapt attention. "Now this is getting interesting," she mutters.
April grins at her friend. "She also fought the second bully while he was still standing and could fight back, but instead of killing him when he was down, the angel cast a spell to lock his mind forever within a private hell. Even today his mind is trapped, suffering his own worst 'psychological' tortures, while his body is in a coma in some hospital."
"How do you know his mind is trapped in his own private hell if he's in a coma and can't tell us about it?" asks June.
April growls, "Hey! I'm telling the story, so that's what happened! Anyhow, the final bully, who had been stealing from William's backpack and encouraging his friends, was hardly touched by the angel at all. She hit him, breaking a few of his ribs, but that was about it. Yet even in this, justice and vengeance were served, for this boy who had been stealing from William's bag had his two best friends stolen from him. And when the police arrived, he was still too injured to escape, so this bully who had been most afraid of getting caught was caught anyway."
Silence reigns for a moment. Finally, June asks, "And then?"
April shrugs and grins, "I don't know. That's where the story ends. But it was a good story, wasn't it?"
June nods slowly before saying, "That was a fun story, but that was a stupid ending. It needs something more... Maybe something about William feeling guilty or being careful what you wish for. ... But it doesn't sound like an angel if you ask me. Angels aren't supposed to be merciless and vicious. They're supposed to play harps in the clouds and be nice."
"You think? Maybe it was a war angel," April mumbles thoughtfully.
"... Or maybe an Old Testament angel," June adds with a wry grin.
April frowns, trying to figure out that comment for a few seconds before intelligently replying, "Huh?" Then she claps her hands together and posits, "I know! A demon! If it was a demon it would all make sense... William must have scrawled demon-summoning sigils in his own blood after he was injured!" April nods to herself. "I'll have to let everyone know they have it wrong."
"And once more the rumor mill grinds a few grains of truth into a pound of cake," June mutters. "Anyhow, what would you say to a little game of football?" she asks. "I'll even the score this time."
"You lost to me in that test yesterday. You lost to me in that netball game last PE class. And you think you can beat me in a game of football?" April asks snidely, although her eyes twinkle with mirth. "Ha. You don't stand a chance."
"You just keep flapping your gap when we're on the field. Go get your team. You'll see who wins this one," June responds, tossing her hair over one shoulder. Both girls then immediately take off to find some of the more athletic girls for their respective teams.
After they leave, Ranma turns away from the girls and begins stretching on her own, preparing to run through a kata she had been designing for her martial arts style, and wishing she could go visit Kathryn and Audrey. However, her two best friends are both a year ahead of her, and apparently Mrs. Pearson's idea about an extra recess isn't very popular among the faculty. Her class is out there alone.
Ranma stands up, about to start the kata, when -
"Ranma? That's your name, right? I'm still a member short. Will you please join my team?"
Ranma turns to see June leaning against a tree, offering a nervous smile.
"You're asking HER on your team?" April asks, sneering a bit as she approaches . "I've heard all sorts of weird things about her. I've heard she's best friends with a bookworm and a computer geek from sixth year. Marcy heard from her older sister's friend that she is in a numeracy course at the secondary school five years ahead of us. And nobody has ever seen her in PE class or recess. She's a... a little swot, that's what!"
Ranma's eyes narrow and she glowers at April, unable to come up with a suitably scathing reply even in Japanese. April manages to ignore her penetrating stare by simply not noticing it; April's attention is focused on June.
"Then why do you object to me asking her onto my team?" asks June.
April bites her lip, unable to answer.
June crosses her arms, steadfast. "She's more athletic than she looks. You did see her stretching earlier, didn't you? She's very limber and has great muscle tone. And you know she's coordinated."
"Fine then! I'll just go find someone else," April shouts as she stalks off.
Ranma relaxes and gazes at June again, as if seeing her in a new light.
June chuckles and turns to Ranma. "Don't be bothered by what she said. I think she was coming to ask you and wanted to drive me away; I know she's seen you weaving through those lunch lines before. We both have. Anyhow, want to play?"
Ranma nods slowly.
"So why don't you go to PE class or recess?" June asks as casually as she starts leading Ranma to the rest of the team.
Ranma follows June, but doesn't answer the question.
"Oh, sorry, I guess, if it isn't something you want to talk about. ... I know you don't talk much."
Ranma follows a little further before answering, "I... have another class: reading, writing, and vo-... voca-... words. English is not my first ... language. I'm getting better, though. Afterwards, I go to the other school for math and science." Ranma smiles smugly at this last bit.
June smirks. "The word you're looking for is 'vocabulary', sis. It's good for my ego to correct a genius. Anyhow, welcome to the team." June gestures to another three girls, who in turn are gazing at Ranma with appraising eyes.
It isn't long before the April and June are snarling playfully at each other across the lines of battle. Mrs. Pearson herself decided to referee, and managed to find a shrill whistle. Several other girls stand about to watch the bout, a small scrimmage with five players per side. Ranma takes her position as one of the two defenders of her goal; the other girls were unwilling to give an unproven player much faith.
The whistle blows. The game begins.
Minutes later, Ranma watches impatiently as June once again launches the ball towards the goal, only to have it blocked with a proficient head butt from April. She itches to run in, take the ball, and pound it into the goal, but she knows that she can't join the action without getting an offsides call. Mrs. Pearson has quickly proven herself to be an aggressive referee even though she doesn't fully comprehend the rules of the game; she thinks "offsides" is when the defenders cross the halfway line.
So instead Ranma must wait for the action to come to her.
Ranma doesn't find it strange at all that she just knows many of the rules to this particular game. It's the same story as with many other things... except computers. A week ago Kathryn had sat Ranma down in front of her new computer, jabbering on and on about all one could do with it all the while demonstrating little programs she could run using a nasty interface called 'DOS' through a clunky device called a 'keyboard'. Ranma quickly became lost. Fortunately, she was saved when Kathryn's father, with a knowing glint in his eyes, walked in asking Ranma if she would like to help cook.
She had jumped at the opportunity and learned to make a delicious dish of lasagna.
In the present Ranma jumps again, this time in the more literal sense, when she looks up from her reminiscing and sees April barreling towards her with the ball.
April controls the ball tightly with a rapid succession of light taps from her toes, and June is hot on her heels. Ranma's mouth slowly widens into a wicked shark-like grin; April may be good, but Ranma knows herself to be far better. Ranma steps to intercept.
April feints to the left and draws the ball to the right. The effort is meaningless; Ranma sees right through the feint as she closes the distance in an instant. Her leg snaps forward griping the ball beneath the front of her foot. Realizing that Ranma has seized control, April tries to bat it away, but the red head rolls the ball back faster, leaving the girl only air to swing at. Then, before Ranma's opponent can make another move, Ranma casually sets her foot back down on the ground scooping the ball up on top of her toe and flipping it into the air. With light kick she then sends it out over both April's and June's heads toward another of her own team's forwards.
April and June watch with stunned looks, eyes locked onto the ball. April turns and gives Ranma a dirty look. June offers a wicked grin. Then, enough time wasted, they rush away, June calling back, "Hey, you're pretty good."
Ranma grins at the compliment. She wants to chase after them and join in on the fun, but doesn't dare challenge Mrs. Pearson's poor excuse for refereeing. Instead she watches silently as the girls ahead fight to bring the ball toward the goal and score.
A chill breeze whips across the meadow. A shadow sweeps across the field before the sunlight returns.
April and June rejoin the battle. They fight fiercely for control, forcing the other girls away in their fury. A few hang back tenuously, but the rest, unwilling to surrender, rejoin the squabble. Mrs. Pearson's whistle cries shrill, and the pudgy teacher jogs, wheezing, to the tight group.
A second dark cloud sweeps across the sun. The field fills with an uneasy gray light. Something shifts to Ranma's right. The redhead turns her head to look, but it is just a girl digging with her foot.
Shifting uncomfortably in the sudden chill, Ranma gazes at the ball, waiting for it to return to play. June and April argue with Mrs. Pearson, their voices blending in the distance.
... whispers speaking with insistence ...
An edge of fear grows within; the shadows stretch long and thin.
An icy wind claws with strength. The whistle blows. The game resumes for a length. April forces the ball still nearer. Shadows grow starker, clearer. The space between them shrinks in size. Still further back come her team's cries. Ranma steps to take the ball.
The sun is blocked by a cloud within a slice of frozen time. The silence speaks aloud, in rhyme, yet not a word is heard.
The ball's form shifts, changes, drifts into a decapitated head. Its eyes glare, declaring through shattered glasses that it's HER fault that he's dead. Its face twists in terrible rictus, lips forever frozen in silence, unable to speak. Yet whispers abound as it rolls across the ground, head over neck, ear over ear... It's cold out here. It's cold in the shadows, its silence accuses. This bandanna doesn't protect me when I'm not in the sun. Its YOUR fault; you should have stayed. Instead you left me to the shade, betrayed, ignored me for your own crusade, with my life the cost.
And now you're lost.
The head halts at her feet and stares up at her with dead eyes and a fixed grimace.
"Oyaji," Ranma gasps, shivering, a hand at her mouth and fear in her eyes.
Then its form twists once again. The pupils roll upwards, out of sight, leaving only orbs of white. The twin orbs fall back into shadowed pits, and darkness spills from within. The mouth opens, and a low murmur joins a sudden blast of cold wind, forming ancient words that float away, faintly heard yet lost. From shadowed eyes and gaping maw spill dark, phantom tendrils writhing sickly.
Stretching, swaying to and fro, questing for her as they grow, then twisting quickly through the air, these claws of shadow and despair... find their mark. They strike her head, her eyes, her mind. They leave her in the dark and blind. She feels them pierce her inner shrine, reaching deep into her soul.
Careless and malign, they pull...
... Revealing memories left behind, peeling them as core from rind, only to find memories once blocked to bind a darkness left of yore. Her father once stood fast and strong, fighting shadows that don't belong... in this world, for shadows are creatures of borders: darkness and light, day and night, life and death, stillness and breath, silence and screams, reality... dreams. They are strongest both at dusk and dawn, with the rising and the setting sun, and under a full moon, when shadows are longest and deepest.
Soon this might not be the case; there are great plans for the shadow race.
She knows it deep within her heart, since shadows whisper in the dark. "Join us," they say, "Set us free! And our power yours shall be." They seek escape their imprisoned lands, with manifest destiny to expand.
And they almost succeeded with the help of a foolish little troll who chose to discipline Ranma – the whelp – who while on panty patrol, returned the darlings Happosai stole in a panty raid on the girls of a Victoria's Secret fashion parade. The master's wrath could not be deterred. Vengeance set him on his path, and this is where he erred: He acquired an ancient, evil book, and before he stopped to think or look, he read the words beheld within, when as if it were some kami's whim, he sneezed loudly and messily, too; "Klaatu, Verata, Nic-a-ah-AH-CHOO!"
A portal to another realm... Ranma stole the book and tried to shut it down, but had no luck; the effort was naught. The pages were stuck with Happosai's snot. A fight begins with immortal kin, that when knocked down just rose again, and just when hope had passed... the largest came through last. Dozens of shades escaped through the gate held fast by the greatest shadow of them all. During the ensuing brawl: Gosunkugi in a thrall; Happosai crashed through a wall; Genma knocked Gosunkugi out; Oyaji! Get back here! ... ungrateful lout!
With the great shadow's attention all on him, she pushed it back.
It pulled her in.
Falling... falling... she feels it crawling into her hazy mind, a shadow stretching deep, slowly as it creeps, leaving her behind. She feels it tearing her spirit, grabbing her body and trying to wear it, deep inside her soul, vainly as it pulls at nothing... a void, a greater abyss hidden within. Ranma starts whispering. Who are you? What do you want? I am she who dances between patches of sunlight. I want you to join us. Help us! Become our goddess, our anchor in light, our leader at night, a mighty warrior to aid in our fight. We're falling! We're failing! Our cause is ailing. A dark hunter gives chase, and he has companions. In the madness of many you'll find the key. In dreams of the great, you'll find the gate. You have your help. Now leave this place. NOW! THIS IS MY MIND! GET OUT!
At a harried pace the shadow races, leaving on the fastest route. The ball rockets away- BLAM! A resounding crash, a dark flash; the shadow is gone.
Then Ranma falls, breath quickened, stomach sickened, and she feels a chill course through her body, only to be swallowed by the greater abyss hidden within as it sinks once more below consciousness.
Ranma lies on the ground for a short while, slowly realizing that the cold shadows have passed and aren't returning, and the sun is shining normally once again, before she sits up and opens her eyes.
Blinking Ranma looks in confusion about her. She sees April lying on the ground several meters away, hurt and crying silently, with a half-dozen girls surrounding her to give comfort. What happened to her?
Mrs. Pearson's whistle howls. "Go to Ogden's office, young lady, and wait there until I arrive," she snaps with a scowl. Then her face falls, worn and weary. After April is helped slowly to her feet, in a daze, the teacher directs her from the field.
June sends an accusing glare at Ranma before following.
A ball of black and white staggers across the green, shedding a few spots of red.
-oOo-
THUNK!
A heavily modified, short, double-barreled, break-action shotgun with an absurdly large bore and a hefty wooden stock drops from a gloved hand and lands unceremoniously upon a large wooden table. "That thing is hell on the wrist!" declares the young man as he removes his gloves. He rolls his wrists about and they make a series of popping noises, then he sighs and sits at the bench, dropping his head into his hands. Bags under his eyes betray his weariness.
"Hell on the wrist, eh?" asks another man walking in with a wicked grin, eyes twinkling with mirth. He is much older looking, with crinkly skin and a completely bald head with the exception of bushy white eyebrows and tattoos of odd design. His voice is high and craggy, yet cheerful. All this is somewhat at odds with the fact that he's holding his own severely injured and mangled arm. It's even more at odds with the fact that said arm is no longer attached to his body. He waves it around, causing the hand of the severed arm fall upon the younger man's head. "Hell on the wrist hardly seems to be a problem, Ghost."
"Hey! Stop it! That's just sick, Erwin!" Ghost shouts, jumping out of his seat and swiftly backing away from the freely swaying arm.
Erwin laughs at Ghost's plight, still teasing him with the detached arm. "Hell on the wrist it may be, but that's a lesser hell."
"Can't say I disagree there," interjects a stocky man with a scruffy beard and overalls, looking up from the position he occupies on the opposite side of the shop table. He places the oversized handgun he had been meticulously cleaning on the work table, and stares for a moment at his own right hand... which is obviously metal, mechanical, and prosthetic from about the middle of his forearm. He wiggles his metal fingers about and smiles fondly for a moment. Then looks at Ghost, smirks, and says, "I can build a wrist guard for you to help absorb the recoil on that gun, if you need one. I've already got something like it in the works for Lauren."
Ghost shoves Erwin's wayward arm away once more with an annoyed grimace, then smiles at the stocky man. "Thanks, Chad. I'd appreciate that. It must kick at least half my weight, and I can't afford to use it in two hands. I must say... it works really well, though."
"Ain't nothing like a bigger gun to take care of bigger troubles, I always say. I take it you ran into trouble?" Chad asks, glancing at Erwin's arm, which is now flung casually over the bald man's stump of a shoulder.
Erwin whistles a light ditty as he uses his remaining arm to dig through a fridge in the corner, before pulling out a hard lemonade and popping off the lid. "Yes; several bigger troubles," says Erwin before taking a deep swig of the alcoholic beverage. "Ahh! Nothing quite like a Mike's after losing a limb. Anyhow, we can't say the trouble was unexpected... except for that little bit with the girl. Oh, hey! Brook! Would you mind sewing my arm on again?"
The last is asked of a young woman with short, wavy black hair and glasses, wearing a white sweater and a long skirt. She is currently walking down a spiral staircase with an armful of books. "Hi, Hikaru!" she says to Ghost as she bounces into the main room. She turns to Erwin and her light smile transforms into a frown of disgust. "Oh... you lost it again." She sets her books down and rummages through a drawer, asking, "So what happened this time?"
Ghost lifts his head from his hands, offers her a tired smile, and says, "We finally caught up with that shadow-possessed pack of dogs we've been tracking the last four days."
"Oh, good! Lauren will be happy to hear that. Did you manage to destroy them?" asks Brook. Holding thread and needle, she walks over to Erwin, who is already waiting at the table holding his severed arm against his stump.
"Yeah, they're destroyed at least," Ghost grouses.
Brook looks worriedly at Ghost for a moment, and is about to say something when Erwin cuts in.
"The mongrels ambushed us," Erwin says rather jovially. "I had to chase one of those mutts almost two blocks just to get my arm back!"
Ghost drops his head into his arms as Erwin continues.
"We ended up in the outskirts of London, in a rather forested area a little before noon. You know how the shadow-possessed like places that are, well, shady. It turns out we were near that all-girl's school, Headwings."
"Oh, my! The fight didn't go public, did it?" Brook asks.
"Heh. Fortunately, no... although I'm sure Lauren would have liked the free advertising," says Erwin.
"Only if nobody was hurt," calls a tenor voice from above. "Besides, I believe the image of you chasing your arm around would not be good for business." Lauren steps down the stairs dressed in a blouse, business slacks, and leather boots. When she stops at the bottom, her eyes sweep across the four people in the room... stopping on Ghost's tired form. "What's up with Gosunkugi-kun?"
Brook watches as his back rises and falls evenly, then says, "I think he's asleep."
Lauren smiles wanly at the boy, then turns to Erwin. "I want details."
Erwin grins. "How much did we get for this job, anyhow?"
Lauren's eyes light up. "Six thousand pounds," she says ecstatically. "Just because these dogs attacked some rich-girl's horses." Then her eyes darken, voice grim. "But only if you have all the evidence we need."
"Ghost is carrying it, video, photos and all," says Erwin. "He's pretty good with a camera. Anyhow, as I was saying, the mongrels ambushed us. They stepped out of the shadows, then attacked from all sides. Ghost went all ninja on them; he sliced up two right quick with that rapier of his, then he engaged their leader. His rapier didn't work out so well, so he eventually drew that thing and blew a half-pound of cold-iron shot into the beast." He gestures to the gun on the table.
"Nothing says 'I love you' like a four-gauge at two paces," interjects Chad with a smile.
Erwin flashes the stocky man a grin then continues, "The shadow-possessed hound was torn clean in half, 'cross the abdomen, but it almost managed to pull itself together again. So Ghost blew the creature into mincemeat with his other shot. That hand-cannon of yours knocked Ghost straight onto his arse," he laughs. "Anyhow, I was busy too. I blasted most of the small-fry into oblivion, then played Erwin a'la carte with the last two." He glances at his arm, to which Brook is now strapping a splint with a good bit of duct tape. "I guess I never quite recovered from that evil saber-wielding marionette."
"... never watch Child's Play again," Lauren mutters like a mantra.
"What about that new movie, Puppet Master?" Erwin jibes. "I'm looking forward to renting it. What'cha bet those movies are inspired by real life? Anyhow, those two dogs escaped, but the shadow possessing them escaped in a different direction. I, of course, chased those dogs to get my arm back. Ghost pursued the shadow; he tells me it was shadow-stepping like a mad cricket, and it ended up at that school where it attacked a girl's mind."
Brook gasps. "Did he have to destroy her?" she asks.
Erwin shakes his head. "Fortunately, no. It didn't manage to possess her. It was pretty weak at that point. Besides, if what we suspect is true, she'd have to be in much poorer health anyway. But, the way Ghost um... growled it, I'm pretty sure he knows the girl. He was quite angry with himself. He called her 'Ranma'."
Lauren's eyes widen a bit, but she says nothing. Brook simply looks relieved as she sits next to Gosunkugi.
Erwin gazes at Lauren then adds, "After that, the shadow escaped. Ghost couldn't exactly chase it into the schoolyard, sword in one hand and gun in the other."
Lauren sits down, looking thoughtful. After a long pause, she speaks up. "Well, we've hardly got a hundred-percent record with these shadow creatures. At least this wasn't a total failure; we've met contract. So... Who wants to order-in some Chinese?"
-oOo-
"Do you know exactly how strong your daughter is, Mr. Granger?"
Gareth grins a little sheepishly at the young man sitting behind the desk. Perhaps it is the rather austere lighting, the intensity of the man's voice, or the rather spartan decor, but Gareth feels nervous, as though interrogated before a court.
Finally, Gareth answers, "I've never had it measured exactly, no. She didn't... uh... throw any cars or knock down any walls, did she? Heh. Heh..."
The laugh is rather forced.
"This is no time for jokes, Mr. Granger! A girl was injured."
Gareth's heart drops. He swallows, steels himself, then asks, "How so, Mr. ... ?"
"Forgive me; this is a rather trying situation. I am Sir Samuel Ogden, Deputy Headmaster of Headwings Primary, and heir to Headwings Institute. Please call me Mr. Ogden, and please take a seat."
Gareth sits.
"Earlier today, a student by the name April Jennings was playing a game of football along with your daughter, Ranma. April was injured in a manner that seems to be the fault of your daughter," Mr. Ogden starts.
"The children were under the supervision of their English teacher, Samantha Pearson. Apparently, because of the nice weather, Mrs. Pearson chose to allow the children an extra recess. April and her friend June Irving took advantage of this opportunity to organize a game of football. Mrs. Pearson became referee.
"Mrs. Pearson says that Ranma committed two off-sides fouls and began giving her dirty looks, but June says that Mrs. Pearson doesn't know her football fouls from Peking duck, and I'm inclined to agree with the child because she plays in the local Youth League. Regardless, I'm told your child later intercepted the ball from April and showed what must have been extraordinary control in kicking it back to her team's forward, who quickly scored a goal. Then, according to June, April challenged Ranma again, driving the ball towards your child.
"From that point, things get sketchy, as nobody was close enough to see all the action. What is known is that Ranma moved to intercept the ball, then everybody heard a nasty, loud, resounding collision of football meeting flesh, and April fell back. One student claims April was actually lifted bodily from the ground but nobody else could confirm it."
Mr. Ogden sits back and opens a leather-bound journal. After flipping through it, he elaborates, "The ball struck April's left arm causing a hairline fracture of her humerus. Then it rebounded into her chest, leaving a large, football-shaped bruise. Finally, it either bounced or rolled upwards and struck the bottom of her chin, where it tore some skin and knocked out one of her baby molars. April was unconscious for almost a minute, and claims no memory of the event past deciding to challenge Ranma. The doctors are optimistic about April's recovery; they will give her pain medication for two days and place a cast on her arm."
Ogden closes the journal then adds, "Fortunately, it seems April holds only a minor grudge, claiming she will even the score in rounders."
Gareth sighs with relief. "I'm glad it wasn't more severe," he says. "So what are you going to do?" Gareth looks worried.
"Am I going to expel her?" Mr. Ogden asks as though reading his mind. "According to June, April insulted Ranma before the match. But there is no other evidence that this was done with malicious intent. And April is a skilled player; if she attempted something difficult, it might have escaped even Ranma's control. Or it couldhave merely been a moment of inattention. So, no; I'm not going to expel her. Regardless, to think that your daughter could injure a girl so, by accident, and with a football no less... just imagine what she'd do with a rounders ball. I'm sure you'll understand that I can't risk her injuring others."
Gareth nods glumly.
"Therefore, you'll understand when I ban her from physical education class, school-hosted extracurricular sports, and similar recess activities with the other girls for her remaining time here at Headwings Primary. We can call it medical reasons, or whatever is most convenient. I also want you to give her a lecture on self-control tonight."
Gareth blinks. "That won't be a problem. No suspension or detention?"
Mr. Ogden smiles slyly. "No; I will be giving her a detention assignment that she must work upon here for an extra hour each day until complete. You shall need to schedule to pick her up later. I will have her copy chapters of her history text by hand, until she does so in acceptable cursive handwriting. That should kill two birds with one stone."
Gareth nods in acceptance of the punishment.
"On a more positive note," Mr. Ogden continues, "her literacy tutoring will be finished by the end of term. She is catching up at an astounding rate. It seems all I have to do is say a word and she picks up the meaning. It's like when I study French before a vacation to France; I'm remembering the language rather than learning it."
Gareth relaxes. "A vacation to France sounds good; Elinore and I plan to travel there during our fifteenth anniversary. So... you're the one tutoring her?"
Mr. Ogden nods. "I tutor Ranma on Wednesdays. Another teacher has been tutoring her on Mondays and Fridays. However, one reason I bring this up is that we are currently tutoring her over her physical education classes. Since I'm banning her from those, you and I will need to find another class to fill that time, come January."
"I'm sure we can think of something."
-oOo-
A screeching wail rises and wobbles through the air, then falls. Then it rises once again, a shrill, tortured howl, a shriek of agony tearing woefully at the bleeding ears of those unfortunate enough to hear it.
Kathryn and Audrey cringe, despite their best efforts.
Ranma frowns disgustedly and lowers the bow, ending for a moment the tormented screams from her violin. The cacophony that arose was enough to make even her, the artist of this misery made manifest, grit her teeth. With an exasperated sigh, she sets the instrument back into its case.
"That was pretty good! Really! You play even better than I do!" Kathryn gushes enthusiastically, a painted smile on her face.
"You're not fooling anyone Kate," Audrey says, lowering her book. Then she continues toward Ranma. "Don't worry, you have only had it a couple of days. You'll get better."
The three girls are sitting together on the tall hill overlooking Headwings to one side and a small lake to the other. On a warm spring day it would be a comfortable place; however, a hint of Winter rides the wind. Ranma's coat sheds the chill, but her unprotected hands feel the cold's numbing nibble as she closes the violin case.
"Say, why do you want to play violin anyway? I mean you could do all sorts of fun stuff instead. Like play with computers, or read books, or draw pictures, or- You're pretty athletic. You could play a sport!"
"I can't," Ranma says simply. She shifts a bit on the cold grass before pulling on a pair of woolen mittens. They provide immediate relief from the wind.
Audrey sighs, "Remember. She isn't allowed to play sports or even attend gym for medical reasons." While she speaks, the mousy girl glances at Ranma curiously.
"Oh yeah!" Katheryn exclaims then says more quietly, "Sorry..."
Ranma shrugs then flops on her back, arms spread wide. She stares for a moment at the sky. Roiling, formless clouds above reflect in hazy gray from her blue eyes. She turns her gaze to Kathryn.
The girl brightens immediately. "That still doesn't answer why you're playing the violin!"
"Elinore wants me to," Ranma explains.
"Elinore? Who's that?" asks Katheryn.
Silence ensues for a while before Ranma answers, "Mom." She sits up and brushes a few blades of grass out of her braided red hair. "What book are you reading?" Ranma suddenly asks Audrey.
Audrey sets her book down. "Through the Looking Glass."
"What's it about?" Ranma stretches lightly she talks.
"It's about a seven-year-old girl named Alice who steps through a mirror and ends up in a place where everything is twisted and strange. For example, the chessmen walk and talk to one another. It's the sequel to Alice in Wonderland, where she falls down a rabbit hole. But mostly it's full of poetry and weird ideas; they're kind of hard to explain..." Audrey starts.
"I like that poem about the Jabberwock!" Kathryn interjects. She waves her arm wildly, as though wielding a sword. "Snicker-snack! Snicker-snack! He left it dead and with its head he went galumphing back! Oh! Now I know what I'll draw!" Kathryn pulls a pad of paper from her bag and opens it to a fresh page.
Audrey offers a weak smile in Kathryn's direction. "I think that was just a little word-play. It's all explained by Humpty Dumpty in a later chapter," she says, but Kathryn is already lost in her work. So Audrey instead looks at Ranma and she lifts the slender volume. "Here. I'll read to you where Tweedledum and Tweedledee talk about the Red King."
Ranma grins and scoots close as Audrey starts reading softly.
(- Begin Block Quote -)
"He's dreaming now, and what do you think he's dreaming about?" asks Tweedledee.
"Nobody can guess that," says Alice.
"Why, about you!" Tweedledee exclaims, clapping his hands triumphantly. "And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be?"
"Where I am now, of course," replies Alice.
"Not you!" Tweedledee retorts contemptuously. "You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream!"
"If that there King was to wake," adds Tweedledum, "you'd go out bang! just like a candle!"
"I shouldn't!" Alice exclaims indignantly. "Besides, if I'm only a sort of thing in his dream, what are you, I should like to know?"
"Ditto," says Tweedledum.
"Ditto, ditto!" cries Tweedledee.
He shouts this so loud that Alice can't help but saying, "Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."
"Well, it's no use your talking about waking him," says Tweedledum, "when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."
"I am real!" huffs Alice, beginning to cry.
"You won't make yourself a bit realer by crying," Tweedledee remarks. "There's nothing to cry about."
"If I wasn't real," Alice says, half laughing through her tears, "I shouldn't be able to cry."
"I hope you don't suppose those are real tears?" Tweedledum interrupts in a tone of great contempt.
(- End Block Quote -)
Audrey stops and places the book in her lap. "It makes you wonder if someone is dreaming us. There's a lot of stuff like that. I also like the White Queen's thoughts on punishment. Regardless, I don't believe you'd enjoy reading the story; it starts off with Alice talking to a bunch of cats."
Ranma, suddenly uncomfortable, stands and turns away. Her hands come together just above her belly, her eyes close, and for a moment she sits still. Then she lowers her hands and exhales slowly, warm breath visible in the air. Finally, she seemingly drifts into a simple, low stance.
She starts slowly. Her front leg rises and hovers through the air, smooth and implacable, then lowers. When it touches ground, her other leg floats in a long arc, graceful and precise. Again, it falls, and she falls with it, sinking into a new stance. Her hands push forward in tandem, then she slides towards her hands, back to her center.
She exhales slowly once again. The mist curls about her nostrils, then dissipates.
Her eyes snap open.
She flashes into motion, twirling and striking, fast, powerful, precise. The very air protests her movements, snapping angrily at her ankles and wrists as they escape its clutches. The sound is thunder. She leaps, dancing through the air. She is the lightning.
"Hold that position!" Kathryn cries.
Ranma falls from the air, landing on one leg, stiff as a board. She teeters precariously before impossibly finding her balance in her awkward position: one foot jutting high into the sky and body twisted in the middle of a punch following the previous kick.
After straining to hold the position for some time, Ranma blinks and turns her eyes as much as she can to face Kathryn. "Exactly how long do you want me to hold this?" she asks desperately through stiff lips.
"Just a few more minutes!" Kathryn responds enthusiastically. Her hands fly across the paper in her lap.
Ranma groans, then steels herself.
A few minutes pass.
"There! All done!"
Ranma collapses into a heap on the ground, then flops over and stares once again at the roiling gray clouds in the sky... at least until her view is disrupted by a sketch book thrust a few inches in front of her nose.
"Do you like it?" Kathryn asks.
Ranma waits until the image comes into focus... a young girl, with long braided hair and intense eyes, hand reared back to strike a dragon many times her size. The dragon is snarling, smoke drifting from its wide snout. It isn't clear who is winning the bout.
"I think I'd beat the dragon," says Ranma haughtily.
"Are you sure? It's mighty big," replies Kathryn.
Ranma doesn't have a response. She just gazes at the image a while longer, until she hears soft laughter in the distance.
Around the tree down by the lake five children wrapped in warm clothing take each others hands, and then they dance, and chant a song; their words drift along...
Ring around the rosy
Pocket full of posy
Ashes
Ashes
We all fall-