Eldritch Asylum
obsidian-fox and Xylix
Started: January 4, 2005
Last Update: July 13, 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.
Timeline Ranma's Life, 1971-1991
Note: Takahashi's first release of Ranma ½ was in 1987. This was chosen as the year Ranma arrives at the Tendo Dojo as the basis for the Ranma timeline. Takahashi used a common cartoonist's style, going season after season from 1987 to 1996, without aging the characters a single year – that was expanded into the typical fanon two-years-in-Nerima. If you aren't in agreement, I ask that you suspend disbelief.
The Harry Potter timeline is based in 1991-1997, which is a common interpretation of the contradictory clues in the novels, and matches the Warner Brother's official timeline.
canon backstory
March 26, 1971 – Ranma is born as a male to the Saotome clan.
June 1977 – Ranma steals okinomiyaki from Ukyou.
May 1982 – Ranma is taught the neko-ken.
April 1985 – Ranma steals bread from Ryouga.
March 26, 1987 – Ranma is cursed at Jusenkyo and later receives the kiss of death from Shampoo. (Happy 16th!)
canon
April 12, 1987 – Ranma arrives at the Tendo Dojo.
April 1987- February 1989 – Lots of adventures and fights – including Orochi, Herb, Asura/Rogue, Octo/Taro, and Ryu Kumon, but not Konatsu, copy-chan, or Saffron. Ranma meets his mother, Nodoka, only as Ranko Tendo and her pet Mr. Panda.
February 1989 – Ranma eats the age-defying mushroom. (V.33).
backstory
February 1989 – The mushrooms are destroyed.
March 1989 – Ranma leaves the Tendo Dojo to search for cures to his curse and age problem.
October 1989 – Ranma is hospitalized in a coma after a mysterious "explosion" in or around the London Underground.
March 1990 – Ranma wakes from coma but is incoherent, babbling, and dangerous. She is relocated to an asylum, where she is eventually outfitted with a Kevlar® straight jacket. Her wing in the asylum is cleared out for being "haunted"... by her.
prologue
August 1991 – Ranma is given an amulet by a mysterious figure. She begins recovery.
October 1991 – Ranma's recovery is noted and pressure grows to have her removed from the asylum from several organizations. The Ministry of Magic gets involved, trying to get her with a Muggle family that houses a witch.
Chapter one
October 24, 1991 – Ranma is adopted by the Grangers. Her ability to transform into a boy under hot water is discovered that night.
October 30, 1991 – Ranma gets involved in an otherwise minor street fight with three bullies. Later the same day, Ranma tests into Headwings primary as a math and science "genius," taking math and science with fourteen-year-olds rather than (ahem!) children her own age.
Chapter two
October 30, 1991, Lunch – Ranma meets Audrey and Kathryn and they become fast friends.
November 27, 1991 – Children play football outside. Ranma is distracted and hurts another girl. For safety and legal reasons, she is forbidden from physical activities supervised by the school, under the guise of medical reasons.
December 1991 – Ranma starts practicing the violin to replace her physical education course next term.
Next: Hermione arrives.
Chapter Three: Harmony in Four Strings
People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.– George Orwell
December 1991
-oOo-
"So how was your first term at school, dear?" Elinore asks of the bushy-haired girl in the back seat.
"Oh, um..." Hermione hesitates. Well, I've made two good friends... both of them are boys, and one is a celebrity. I've met ghosts – history class is taught by one. I've been chased by a juvenile poltergeist, a sadistic caretaker, and a nosy cat. I almost fell through a trick stair high in the tower. My friends and I were nearly eaten by giant three-headed dog named Fluffy of all things. On Halloween, I was attacked by a troll wielding a club bigger than I am. My potions teacher hates me; I had to start his robes on fire to keep him from killing Harry, and we're trying to keep him from stealing whatever Dumbledore is hiding. And if they ever find out, I might be expelled! Hermione glances at her father, who is preoccupied driving through busy traffic. If he knew even half of that, she'd be pulled from Hogwarts in a heartbeat. So she continues vaguely, "well... it was... very interesting. The school song is even worse than Headwings', but the motto is much better."
"Oh! Do tell!" exclaims Elinore.
"The motto is Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus." Hermione grins. Then she drolly adds, "and never ask me to sing the school song."
Gareth chuckles from the front seat. "Sound advice if ever I heard any."
Elinore looks in askance of her husband. "Which part, dear? The motto, or never asking Hermione to sing?"
"Both!" Gareth declares.
Elinore giggles, then smiles slyly at Hermione. "So what's this I hear about you having a boyfriend?"
Hermione freezes up and blushes. "B-b-boy-friend? Where did you hear about that! Eep! I mean... I don't have a boyfriend!"
"Oh, really?" Elinore raises an eyebrow, grins widely, fixes her gaze on Hermione, and tries to prevent herself from laughing at her daughter's antics.
Hermione continues panicking; Mom can't really believe that, can she? "I really don't! Harry and Ron are friends, and they're boys, yeah, but not boyfriends!"
"So there are two boys!" Elinore squeals happily. "How they must fight over you..."
"Mom!"
Elinore laughs heartily. "I'm just teasing. I'll believe you... for now."
"Mom..." Hermione sighs and gives up. "... you wouldn't happen to know who Nicolas Flamel is, would you?"
"Who?" Gareth asks while concentrating on traffic.
"Can't say that I've heard of him," says Elinore.
"That's what I expected," says Hermione brightly. "So, how have you been while I was away? Missing me, I hope!"
Gareth starts, "Well, we can also say it's been interesting. What, with you gone, we've been able to have wild-"
"GARETH!" Elinore interrupts, blushing furiously.
Gareth smirks and glances at his wife.
Hermione grimaces as her mind, unfortunately, pursues the chosen topic. Striving to change the subject to anything else, she says, "A few owls ago, you mentioned something about a surprise waiting for me when I came back..."
"Oh, yes," Elinore replies while composing herself. "It's still there," she adds with a nervous grin.
"Elinore... we talked about this," Gareth grumbles reprovingly.
"And you agreed to let me handle it, dear. So let me handle it," Elinore retorts.
Gareth closes his mouth and continues driving.
Hermione watches the exchange worriedly.
Elinore smiles over her shoulder at Hermione. "You're just going to have to wait until we get home. Why don't you tell me a little about your classes?"
Hermione begins counting on her fingers, "I have Astronomy, Charms, Defense, Herbology, History, Potions, and Transfiguration. In Astronomy we...-" Hermione proceeds to describe her classes in detail, much to her mother's satisfaction. She even pulls out her diary and quotes specific days for events.
After the car pulls into the drive, Hermione struggles to pull her trunk from the car until her father's sturdy arms reach past her and lift it out. "Thanks, Dad."
"Not a problem." Gareth smiles and lays a large hand on his daughter's head, ruffling up the hair.
Hermione wraps her arms tightly around her father's chest, burying her face in his sweater. "I missed you," she murmurs.
"I missed you too," Gareth replies, returning the hug. "Time flies. You grow. Just where did those four months go?" he asks wistfully. "You move on ahead; I'll carry this to your room."
Hermione gives her mother a quick hug then scuttles to the door, swinging it wide open. For a moment, she stares at the knob in shock. "Shouldn't this be locked?" she asks. "You know it isn't safe – not even in this part of London."
Elinore interrupts. "We know the lecture, dear, having given it to you several times. Let's just say it has something to do with the surprise."
"Discovering my home has been robbed or vandalized would definitely be an unpleasant surprise!" retorts Hermione. Then she hears an explosion of pealing laughter from somewhere deep in the house. "I think there's someone here," she tells her mother in hushed tones.
Then Hermione hears the thunderous approach of three girls bouncing down the main stairs.
The tallest girl is rather boyish, with bowl-cut bleach-blond hair and red highlights; combined with her cream colored slacks and her red sweater, she resembles nothing so much as a candy-cane. That impression is aided by a painted candy-cane decorating her cheek. The shortest girl's long red hair hangs to her thighs in a neat plait, and she wears black drawstring pants and an overly-large, familiar, blue shirt with sleeves rolled to the shoulders, and some sort of silver chain, mostly hidden by her collar. The last girl is...
"Audrey? What are you doing here?" asks Hermione.
Audrey blinks in surprise, then reaches up and tucks a lock of hair behind her mousy ears. "I'm here with Ranma," she says, indicating the smaller girl. "You know me?"
"I've seen you around the library; we met when I helped you find a book last year." Hermione says, feeling hurt and a little hostile. She turns her gaze to Ranma, briefly catching her cerulean blue eyes before looking again at her clothes. "Isn't that my shirt?"
Candy-cane girl hops down the last step and grabs Hermione's hand enthusiastically, then begins speaking quickly. "Hi! I'm Kathryn Keynes. You must be Ranma's sister! Is it true you're really a witch? Are dragons real? What about unicorns? Can you show us some magic? What's it like to be a witch? Can you turn a prince into a toad? Is Prince of Persia based on a real person? Do you get to fly on a broomstick? Does just any broom work or do you need specialty brooms? If just any broom works, I'll lend you mine. Oh yeah, you haven't met Ranma yet, have you? I'm so sorry! I shouldn't interfere with your important sisterly bonding. I think I'll just leave now; I'll go find a broom or maybe I'll find something to eat in the kitchen. Ranma made yakisoba for lunch and leftovers are calling!" Kathryn dashes away as quickly as she appeared. Audrey glances back at Hermione, before trailing after the energetic blond.
Hermione's eyes widen during the onslaught and for a while she stands dazed in the doorway.
Elinore steps up behind Hermione and gently pushes her into the house. "Stop gawking and get inside, Hermione; you're letting all the cold air in. Well, aren't you two going to introduce yourselves?"
Ranma closes the distance and peers upwards into the brown eyes of her adoptive big sister. "Hi, oneesan," she says simply. Then she bows, ever so slightly. "I am Ranma."
"You're my sister?" Hermione asks incredulously, her mind still reeling.
"Hai, oneesan," says Ranma, this time with an amused smirk. "I was adopted two months ago. I have heard much about you; I am glad to finally meet you."
"Well, I am wondering why I haven't heard anything about you!" Hermione shouts, directing her baleful accusation at both Elinore and Gareth, who is just now struggling to fit her trunk through the doorway.
Gareth does his best to look innocent and glances at Elinore. "Ask her," he grunts as he shuffles past, lugging the trunk up the stairs.
Elinore cringes and wrings her hands. "Ah... surprised?" she asks.
"YES!" Hermione screeches.
"I really thought you would take this better," says Elinore. Then she continues in a quieter, sterner voice, "But please keep the volume down, dear. We have guests."
"Sorry," Hermione apologizes. "It's just-" she glances at Ranma, then turns back to her mother. "Can we go somewhere else to talk about this?" She grabs her mother's wrist and starts dragging her up the stairs when she notices the frown on Ranma's face.
"I had hoped- I'm sorry about this," Ranma says, hurt showing her stormy blue eyes.
"Look, I'm not blaming you for anything. Okay?" Hermione says somewhat patronizingly. "I hope we can become good friends... sisters; whatever. But right now I really need to talk to my parents. Alone." That said, she stomps up the stairs, pulling her mother along.
Elinore pauses as she passes Ranma and offers the child a small smile and a caress to the cheek with her free hand. "Don't worry; everything will work out. Hermione's just a little... upset that we didn't inform her of your situation. Why don't you start supper with the girls? We should be down within an hour."
Ranma sits on the bottom stair, chin in her hands and frown on her face. She remains there for some time before leaving to the kitchen.
Upstairs, Hermione is an emotional storm that her parents are weathering with practiced ease. "How could you do this? Don't I have a right to know? And don't you DARE say anything about this being your surprise. I was only gone for four months, and you... you replaced me!" Hermione accuses fiercely.
Elinore looks stricken and weakly says, "Hermione you know we'd never try to replace you."
"I know! ... I know," Hermione lets out a tense breath, trying to restore her bearing. "But what else am I supposed to think? I leave and then suddenly when I come back I have a sister. I'd understand it if you were five months pregnant, but you weren't! You didn't bother to ask my feelings. You didn't even tell me you did it! I have a right to know!"
Hermione stalks about, pacing the room in agitation as she strives to put words to her feelings. "You could have told me. You could have asked what I thought. Even if the final decision was in your hands you could have sent even just one letter! It hurts... it hurts that you didn't. It... it makes me feel like you don't think I am part of this family."
Hermione pauses for a moment, but before Elinore can say anything the girl suddenly starts again with fury. "Oh sure! I'll be gone ten months each year for the next six years, and, sure, when that's finished I'll probably move out to find a job, but I'm still your daughter. You're still my family ... And now, whether I like it or not, she is too."
Hermione flops into a seat and sighs. "I know that I really shouldn't blame her for this, but I can't help it, part of me wants to. The rest of me- If you had asked, I probably wouldn't have objected; I've always wanted a sister, so I guess I'll make the best of this opportunity. Yet... it's so hard to say this without sounding petty. And maybe it is petty, but seeing her here right now, right after I started going to Hogwarts makes me feel like you're replacing me – like I am a freak and you want someone normal instead of a witch."
A nervous giggle escapes Elinore's lips, though she manages to stifle it.
Hermione whirls on Elinore, fierce with fury. "Hey! This isn't funny!"
Looking upon the dead seriousness of her daughter doesn't help at all. Instead another burst of laughter flies free. Trying to redeem herself through barely contained mirth Elinore manages, "Sorry but... Ranma... normal...?"
Another fit of giggles leaves Elinore twitching on the ground. Gareth leans down to help his debilitated wife. Turning to the indignant Hermione he offers explanation. "What your mother is trying to say is that you have nothing to fear about Ranma being too normal or 'replacing' you; in fact, there's a good chance she'll be joining you at Hogwarts in two years. Apparently, the event that orphaned her was magical in nature and somehow left its mark in a manner that the ministry believes might result in magical ability. My best guess is that it deactivated the allele that suppresses the manifestation of magic."
Elinore recovering herself gives Gareth a weak glare. "Really, you aren't going to bring up that discussion again."
"There is nothing wrong with trying to quantify magic within the bounds of science," Gareth declares, arms folded and resolute.
Fury melds into confusion. "Umm, what is an allele? And what does that have to do with anything?" Hermione asks.
"An allele is one of at least two particular expressions of a gene; it is part of your DNA. Alleles often define simple traits, such as blood type or eye color. More complex traits, like intelligence and height, are often defined by dozens or even hundreds of alleles in addition to environment," Gareth explains. "In this case I am talking about a single gene responsible for whether an individual is or is not a wizard."
"Presuming that such an allele exists!" Elinore snaps out. "It is entirely possible that magic is gained and or transferred through a mechanism other than genetic material. If such is the case it would offer a much better explanation as to how Ranma developed magical ability."
"Occam's Razor, Elinore," Gareth says, as though in explanation. "Genetics explain how Hermione can be a witch even though she was born from two Muggles. Further, if you presume that the allele that suppresses magic is dominant, and that the recessive allele that allows for magic is rare, then it follows that not only would the appearance of wizards born of Muggles be rare and unpredictable, but equally that all children born of two wizards would be wizards themselves – a clear match with reality."
"What about Squibs?" Hermione asks suddenly, frowning.
"Squibs, dear?" Elinore questions.
"Yes, that is what the wizarding world calls people born from wizards that have no magical ability," Hermione clarifies.
"Well, husband of mine?" Elinore crows victoriously.
Gareth smirks. "Easy! There are two clear possibilities. One, that as with the the case of height; an individual can be short or tall. However, if you have the allele that makes you a dwarf, you will be short even if both parents are tall. Squibs could simply receive a grouping of genes that causes them to be nearly as weak magically as a non-wizard. Alternatively there could be another grouping of alleles that could also result in stunted magic. Given the number of genes in a human either, or even both, is easily possible."
"It still doesn't explain why Ranma has magical ability," Elinore counters.
"It isn't certain Ranma has magical ability," Gareth returns.
"Do you really believe that?" Elinore says rolling her eyes in exasperation. "And one way or another it doesn't matter if Ranma has magical ability. We can presume from the mere fact that the ministry even considered such a possibility that this has happened."
"Touché; in this case I imagine events either changed, masked, or otherwise altered the expression of the gene."
"Occam's Razor, dear," Elinore taunts in return. "It is incredulous to believe that a random event changeda gene in every single cell in the whole body in the exact same manner."
"It is well known that drugs can affect the expression or symptoms of a gene in the whole body," Gareth returns. "So I imagine that magic could as well. Further, we know from Ranma's confirmation in biology class that there is the presence of XX and respectively XY after transformation. Thus, magic can result in massive uniform genetic change."
"Wait! What's this about a transformation? And while I know this stuff about genetics and whatnot is interesting, but shouldn't we be talking about this Ranma girl instead?" Hermione asks, shoving her way into the conversation.
"Sorry dear; we were revisiting an old discussion," Elinore replies, leveling a glare at Gareth, who remains stalwart. "And that should be 'Ranma' or 'my sister', not 'this Ranma girl.' You shouldn't talk about anyone that way. Perhaps it's time for you to meet her, and I mean really meet her, not the... greeting... you gave Ranma when you first met," she scolds.
Gareth places a hand on Hermione's head and ruffles her hair affectionately. "Come on, lets go back down stairs. We can continue this later."
Hermione frowns, unwilling to table the conversation, but after a moment she relents.
-oOo-
With aged limbs and a high, craggy voice better utilized cackling madly from the clock tower at midnight screeching, It's alive. It's alive, Erwin dances dynamically and sings into the microphone. "Huggin' and a-kissin', dancin' and a-lovin', wearin' next to nothin' cuz' it's hot as an o-ven! The whole shack shimmies. The whole shack shimmies! Cuz' everybody's movin' around and around and around!"
Gosunkugi averts his eyes while the old man spins around... and around... and around.
He's not kidding, Gosunkugi notes with disgust. Erwin really is wearing next to nothing. He's wearing shortshorts, bushy white eyebrows, and his wrinkled, mottled, tattooed skin. That's it. And that's unusual. There are no stitches. There are no splints. There is no duct-tape holding him together. He looks as fresh as the day he died – fresher, even. He also looks very disturbing in those short shorts, and while the massive tattoos do mollify the immodesty, they are disturbing in their own right.
"Everybody's movin'! Everybody's groovin', baby!" sings Brook, swaying drunkenly.
"Folks linin' up outside just to get down..." cackles Erwin.
Gosunkugi absently juggles a dagger with one hand and watches the pair a few moments longer before gazing around the room.
The room is decorated for the festive Christmas party, with electric candles and evergreen. Erwin and Brook are singing wildly into the new karaoke machine. Chad sits quietly at the work table, assembling a build-your-own robot from Asuracorp. Lauren -
Gosunkugi snorts. Of course Lauren would be doing work even on Christmas day. The woman's first love is money. She'd be worse than Nabiki if it weren't for her massive generosity when it comes to her friends and employees.
As though sensing his eyes, Lauren looks up at him from her pile of papers. She abruptly smiles. Gosunkugi's eyes soften and he smiles back.
"Ti-i-in roof! Rusted!" shouts Brook.
Lauren was generous this Christmas, perhaps because of their recent success and growing workload. Brook received a karaoke machine, although it is difficult to tell whether she or Erwin is enjoying it more. Chad received that build-your-own-robot kit with which he is currently occupied outfitting it with a taser and a police baton because Lauren forbade guns.
Gosunkugi examines the kit a little more closely. Asuracorp? That name, and the futuristic technology in the robot, tickle at Gosunkugi's mind... oh! that powered suit he purchased years ago. How long ago was it? Three years? Four? He purchased a powered suit back in Nerima in the vain hope of defeating Ranma and, thereby, winning Akane's heart.
Gosunkugi snorts. He was such a fool back then.
The suit had the oddest restrictions. It didn't move or power up until your enemy arrived. Further, it couldn't be removed until your enemy was defeated... or at least punched once. Gosunkugi made a mistake right off – he donned the suit right out of the box, before reading the instructions. He was stuck until his enemy arrived. His challenge to Ranma included, "come pick me up."
Fortunately, Ranma came.
Once he did, the suit was devastating in its effect, doing almost all the fighting for the unskilled boy. It enhanced his mobility, allowing him to leap walls and fences, literally dragging Ranma behind him – its first attack captured Ranma with a chain. The suit's armor was able to turn even Ranma's attacks without suffering significant damage. The suit's punches were capable of destroying walls.
But the suit was defeated in the end. It wasn't quite fast enough to hit Ranma, although it came close several times... but it wasn't Ranma that defeated the suit. The suit had a short battery life, and that battery exploded when out of juice, rather than simply shutting down. That hurt.
Gosunkugi abruptly searches Chad's workbench and Asuracorp build-it-yourself robot kit for the battery pack. He doesn't find it, but he relaxes when he sees the stacks of manuals and sheets of blueprints occupying the hefty table. Chad, at least, will identify that potential danger and act to remove it. At the moment the stocky man is working on the programming, clicking away with his hands – both prosthetic and real – at a small computer with a monochrome green monitor.
Thinking of programming, how the heck was the suit programmed to identify your enemy so that it could power up and crush him? Is that even possible? Gosunkugi doesn't remember feeding the suit any pictures of Ranma.
... Suddenly, Gosunkugi feels very thankful that Lauren forbade the robot any guns. He has growing bad feelings about that Asuracorp build-it-yourself robot.
Gosunkugi removes his mind from the subject of Chad's gift by moving on to the others. Erwin received an old scroll and a small pouch from Lauren. He hadn't directly revealed their contents or purpose to anyone else, but Gosunkugi suspects that they are related to his newest tattoos and new health – if such a term can be applied to a corpse. And Gosunkugi -
Ghost received a stylin' black leather trench coat and a heavy tactical bullet-proof vest. The coat is beautiful – Gosunkugi plans to purchase black sunglasses to go with it as soon as possible... and a haircut. But the armor -
It's hot. It's heavy. It's expensive. It's ominous.
On the bright side, it doesn't go Boom!.
The armor masses almost fifteen kilograms with all the rifle-plates attached... which, surprisingly, Gosunkugi can now handle rather easily. It slows him down a little, but he can fight in it. For Gosunkugi, the main problem isn't the mass. It's the heat. The armor, especially in combination with the trench coat, is as hot as an o-ven. And that's during Winter. Gosunkugi does not look forward to wearing it on a hot summer day.
And that's what's ominous about it. Gosunkugi knows he'll be wearing it this summer. He knows that this armor are expensive – probably over one thousand British pound sterling – and that he'll be earning every pound back with considerable interest, and that he'll be earning them back through dangerous contracts. Gosunkugi knows that getting the bullet-proof vest almost certainly means he'll be getting shot at. That doesn't sound appealing at all. That is, decidedly, ominous.
However, Gosunkugi understands why Lauren purchased it.
One of their team has already been shot. While United Kingdom gun control laws are very strict, there are an increasing number of illegal firearms on the streets. Manty-corp's own guns are legal; they are licensed for pest control, which is why Gosunkugi uses a shotgun that stretches the limits of legality. However, Manty-corp has a rather broad definition of pest... a definition broad enough that one of the pests shot back. Fortunately, it hit Erwin, who didn't really notice the nine-millimeter holes in his torso until he was back at base.
Clatter. "Ouch!" The dagger strikes the ground, fumbled by Gosunkugi.
Gosunkugi hisses under his breath and clutches at his finger. The cut – just a tiny little nick on the tip of his finger – burns, stinging far worse than such a small, superficial wound has any right.
Slowly, red blood beads along the cut. The blood pearls into a single globule that hangs precariously between the forces of surface cohesion and gravity. Hissing in pain and clenching his aggrieved finger, Gosunkugi absently shakes the blood-sphere free. The droplet falls towards the ground... then, suddenly, it radically shifts directions and zooms towards the fallen dagger, splashing silently against its black iron blade.
Almost immediately, dozens, no, hundreds of dark red lines begin to form on the black blade. They are the color of fresh blood on a white surface, considerably brighter than one would expect of blood on black iron. The lines slowly spread from the point of impact, worming their way outwards, as though flowing through tiny grooves etched into the metal surface. They form tiny runes, but the runes shift and waver, slipping out of view, slipping out of mind like smoke between the fingers, leaving residue behind... vague impression that lingers.
The spreading stops after covering a hand's width of the dagger's length on the exposed side. As Gosunkugi reaches down to grab the dagger, the red runes are already fading away.
Gosunkugi gazes clinically at the blade, watching the last vestiges of the fading runes.
There is another person who needs protection – not body armor, but protection of the sort this weapon can provide. There are creatures that fists alone cannot harm – ghosts, for example. Perhaps, Gosunkugi thinks, a late Christmas gift is in order. He doesn't need the dagger anymore; his rapier has proven quite capable. And the dagger doesn't belong to him anyway; Gosunkugi found it in Ranma's hand on the very day Ranma was put into a coma two years ago. It's only right that Gosunkugi finally return it.
Besides, it's creepy.
"Hi-ka-ru!" Brook squeals, drunkenly draping her arms over his shoulders in a loose hug from behind. "You need to sing too, you know. Even Chad sang a little." Then she whispers into his ear, "And you can't possibly sing worse than him."
Gosunkugi snorts as he gently disengages himself from Brook and sheathes the dagger. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he drawls. "I think his robotic rendition of Daisy Bell was inspired by his new gift. You haven't convinced Lauren to sing."
Brook pouts a little. "Lauren said she'll sing, and I quote, after everyone else has had a turn. So if you want to hear her sing, you'll need to get up there."
Gosunkugi's eyes drift over to Lauren and he contemplates this until -
"I'm too sexy for this shirt, too sexy for this shirt, so sexy it hurts," Erwin sings, voice as low as he can force it. He has donned a shirt and is now slowly stripping it off.
Lauren, horrified, looks up from her work and glares at the old man in a manner that clearly demands, "Find a different song, immediately!"
Erwin smirks and continues singing, "I'm too sexy for Milan, too sexy for Milan, New York and Japan. ... And I'm too sexy for your party, too sexy for your party; no way I'm disco dancing."
Lauren strides purposefully towards Erwin.
"I'm a model. You know what I mean? And I do my little turn on the catwalk." Erwin does a little turn, managing to keep the microphone from Lauren's hands. "Yeah on the catwalk on the catwalk yeah, I shake my little tush on the catwalk."
Gosunkugi shudders as Erwin begins to shake his little tush in his short shorts.
"I'm too sexy for my- Hey!" Erwin shouts as Lauren cuts the music and confiscates the microphone.
"Gosunkugi-kun, I do believe it's your turn up here," Lauren states. Her eyes bear no refusal.
Gosunkugi puffs a put-upon sigh, then walks to the stage. Grabbing the mike he smiles and says, "Okay, Manty-san, but you're next." He flips through the music a bit before settling on a song.
"This one goes out to the one I love," Gosunkugi utters in a reasonable approximation to singing. "This one goes out to the one I left behind. A simple prop to occupy my time, this one goes out to the one I love."
Gosunkugi continues to sing, wondering who he's truly singing for. There are memories of his first true love, smashed in that ham-fisted way that only she could wield so carelessly, leaving his heart trampled and torn, broken and bruised in the dust. For a long time, he wished he could to return to the simple days of, I don't hate you. She is the one he loved. She is the one he left behind. But...
He glances at Brook and Lauren.
This song is for nobody, he decides. He no longer loves the girl he left behind, and he'll never leave behind the woman he now loves... even if that means he must never confess.
The song finished, he smirks and places the microphone into Lauren's waiting hands. He gazes into her eyes and allows his fingers to linger in hers before she snatches it all away.
Lauren chooses a song more befitting her own love.
"Money, get away. Get a good job with good pay and you're o-okay. Money, it's a gas. Grab that cash with both hands and ma-ake a stash. New car, caviar, four star daydream, think I'll buy me a football team."
-oOo-
Nineteen inches by thirteen inches by five inches thick, weighing fifteen point three pounds, having twenty four-hundred pages and more, carrying the photo-reduced text of a complete twenty volume set, and coming with a magnifying glass best described as both complimentary and complementary, and you can look up the difference if don't already know it because this is the Compact Oxford English Unabridged Second-Edition Dictionary, less than two months off the press... It seems amazing, no, impossible that a twelve-year-old, bushy-haired girl with small hands is waving it angrily above her head, yet there it is – Hermione's only significant Christmas gift. She had been ecstatic, but now she is yelling.
"Oneesan is not a word! I know – I checked!" Hermione proclaims, door flung open ahead of her.
Ranma stares at her for a moment, then shrugs and returns to her violin. "You used the wrong dictionary," she says curtly.
"It's unabridged!" Hermione awkwardly highlights the word with a hand gesture, barely hefting the book in one arm.
Ranma holds the violin with a frown. Hesitantly she draws her bow across. An ecclesiastic choir of banshees screams from the oscillating strings. Ranma pauses, letting the sound fade from the room. She adjusts her grip. She draws the bow once again. A pristine note shudders, shivers, then shatters into a shrill soul-rending screech.
Hermione stomps inside. She sets the massive tome up upon Ranma's spartan work desk with a resounding thump. Whirling, the girl declares, "I have looked it up in three dictionaries. Oneesan is not a word! And put that thing down before you kill someone; it sounds like a cross between a banshee and a mandragora."
Ranma glares at her older sister, but sets the bow aside. With her hand free, she reaches across her desk and grabs a book while asking, "And just how do you know what a banshee or a mandragora sounds like? You'd be dead if you heard one."
"I listened to you play; that's how!" Hermione retorts. "Except I imagine the mandragora is easier on the ears. You're out of tune; you haven't rubbed rosin on that bow for ages, and you're holding the violin all wrong! And what is this?" Hermione asks the last as Ranma shoves the book into her chest.
"The right dictionary," says Ranma. Then she offers the violin. "And why don't you show me, if you're so good at this thing? It isn't as though I've had any help with it."
Hermione ignores her, flipping through the small book in her hands. "A Japanese to English dictionary?" she asks disdainfully after finally reading one of the few English blurbs on the cover.
"Hai, oneesan," says Ranma, eyes twinkling playfully.
"Why do you keep saying 'hi'? I already know you're there," Hermione utters, not really expecting a response as she continues to flip through the book. If she had known a little sister would tease and antagonize her as much as Ranma does, she would have quickly killed any desire for a younger sibling. "I can't find 'oneesan' in this. I can hardly read a word in this thing! It's all in those weird kanji symbols."
Ranma grabs the book and points, in much the same manner as Hermione did earlier, at a blurb denoting that the book was designed 'By and for tourists.' It is one of the few bits of English on the cover. "It would hardly be useful for Japanese tourists if they couldn't read the words now, would it? And it's not all in kanji; there's also a lot of hiragana and katakana. There's even some romaji in the appendix."
Hermione glares at her adopted sister then slumps into the bed. She is both exhausted and exasperated beyond measure and wondering what sort of civilized language would use four writing systems. "Just tell me, would you?" she demands.
"No. Well, maybe..." Ranma starts, touching her lower lip and gazing at the ceiling in false contemplation.
"Maybe what?" Hermione asks.
"Maybe if you help me with the violin, I'll tell you what 'oneesan' means, big sister," Ranma replies with an amused grin. Again she proffers the violin. "Elinore told me this used to be yours, but you quit after hardly giving it a try," she adds.
"I'd try to help you anyway, if only to save my ears," Hermione says caustically. "I don't think it will do you any good; you're worse than awful. And I did give the instrument a fair try," she adds defensively.
Ranma glares daggers at her sister in response to the insult, then abruptly switches tactics and slowly sticks out her lower lip in a pout, knowing her wide and shiny cerulean eyes will finish the job.
"I'm just not interested in music," Hermione continues, "... well, at least not in playing it. Hey, stop that! No mere puppy-dog eyes are going to make me listen to racket that makes anarchist death metal seem fit to replace God Save the Queen as the national anthem!"
Despite her protests, Hermione finds herself falling for that deep, wide, pity-inducing gaze. Wrenching her eyes away, she tries to find anything else to look at. Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be much in the austere room. There is the bed, a desk carrying her tome and its own small mess of papers, a lamp, a small shelf of books, a stand with either unused or grievously misplayed sheet music and... nothing else. There are no toys in the room. There are no decorations on the walls. There is no mess on the floor.
Ranma had received no real toys for Christmas; instead she has three new machine-washable cotton kung-fu suits from her parents, along with matching pairs of kung-fu slippers. Ranma's wide, honest smile when she opened the gifts had been impossible to forget. Beyond that, Ranma's only other gift had been from Kathryn and Audrey -- A pair of roller-blades that convert, with effort, into ice skates. Ranma had eyed the last warily, yet agreed to try them out later. The weather has not yet permitted; it is neither cool enough to freeze the local lake nor dry enough for play on the asphalt.
In comparison Ranma had wasted no time before trying out her new clothes. She is currently wearing the violet kung-fu suit and a pair of white socks on her dainty feet. The silver chain, as always, hangs around her neck slipping into the jacket. The ensemble appears both cute and quite natural on her.
To each her own, Hermione supposes; she doesn't imagine more than one girl in a million her age would be truly happy to receive an expensive fifteen pound dictionary as their only significant Christmas gift.
A resounding screech makes Hermione jump. Her head whips around to catch Ranma carrying the bow in one hand, the violin in the other. Grinning mischievously, Ranma begins to drag the bow across the stringed instrument, resulting in another shrill cry. Panicking, Hermione grabs the bow, causing Ranma to stop torturing the instrument.
"Okay! I'll show you! Just don't do that again!" Hermione shouts.
"Do what again?" Ranma asks, trying her very best to appear innocent. The attempt is ruined by her wicked smile of victory as she hands over the violin.
Hermione mutters something incomprehensible about ungrateful little sisters as she rummages around with a free hand in the violin case. Lifting a small cloth package, she starts in her teaching voice, "First you must prepare the bow. You set the right tightness for the hair using this screw. The strings are just a little too loose right now; they should have more bounce to them, so tighten it like this. You also need to rosin the bow."
Hermione pulls a waxy black cake from the cloth. "This is rosin. Rosin helps the bow grip the strings. You don't need to rosin the bow every time... only when the grip is beginning to slip. It's easy; just draw the hairs through the groove in the rosin. See? Here, you do that for a few minutes."
Ranma begins to rosin the bow, as per her sister's instructions.
Hermione once again reaches into the case, withdrawing a set of tuning forks. "You also need to tune the violin," Hermione continues. "The idea here is pretty simple; you make each of these strings have the same sound as the appropriate tuning fork by twisting the little peg at the top. This needs done regularly, and always before a performance."
Hermione thwacks the tuning fork in her hand against the desk, creating a clear note. Then she plucks the a string and begins tightening a peg near the top. "The only trick here is that it takes a keen ear. It helps to listen for the beat frequency when you're really close, which is kind of a wobbling in volume that slows down the closer you get. Can you hear it?"
Ranma listens for a few seconds as Hermione continues to tune the string, then nods and says, "I think so, oneesan."
Hermione points to the violin strings saying, "The strings are E, A, D, and G from high to low. I've always remembered it with the mnemonic 'Elizabeth And Daniel Granger', which are my aunt and uncles' names. That might not work for you, but it might help to remember that Elizabeth has a higher voice than Daniel. The same character is marked on the appropriate tuning fork. Here, you should be finished with the rosin; why don't you tune the other three strings?"
Ranma sets the violin in her lap and flicks one of the tuning forks, causing it to vibrate loudly. She stares at it for a few seconds.
Hermione adds, "We're lucky we have synthetic strings; they maintain tune for a long time. The original strings were made of cat gut, and -" she pauses when Ranma blanches. "Yeah, I know how you feel... the poor cats -" Hermione stops speaking and looks in askance when Ranma shudders and looks ready to bolt.
Ranma breathes, deeply and slowly, attempting to shake off her irrational fear. With great intensity, she strikes the tuning fork, looks at the character, then plucks the D string. After a moment she asks softly, "Do they still make strings from c-c-cat g-gut?"
Hermione nods.
"Good. Those evil creatures deserve it." That said, Ranma returns to tuning the violin, merrier than the moment before.
Appalled at her sister's response, Hermione grimaces and says, "... Why don't you... finish that and... I... err... can continue with lesson two tomorrow." She grabs her dictionary and hurries out of the room.
-oOo-
The street lamp flickers; shadows lance across bare pavement. The wind carries just a hint of snow, kissing the face but melting before it touches the ground. Squeak. Squeak. The lamp sways and rocks in the breeze, protesting every motion with its loud whine. Black boots, black suit, black hair slicked back – a dark-eyed man with skin of bronze stands on the edge of shadow and light.
Crunch.
"Hmm..." he mumbles, carelessly dropping a golden wrapper. The wind carries it away and it flashes as it passes under the solitary street lamp.
He raises his eyes to December skies. Clouds enshroud half the night; snow turns back the city lights. The other stars are washed away except the very brightest; he can just barely make out the belt of the great winter warrior in his hunt. Through the haze of mist and drizzle, half in shadow, half in light, the half-moon blazes in splendid penumbra aureola.
Priest? ... umm, may I have some?
The man, confused, searches around for a moment before seeing a skinny squirrel sitting under the lamplight and gazing back at him with a twinkle in its beady little eyes. Then he smirks and tosses the rodent what's left of his bar of caramel and fudge. The squirrel leaps at the morsel like a starving animal.
"Ah, He-who-dances-between-patches-of-sunlight," says the man, "I should have suspected it was you. Very few can catch me unaware as consistently as you do."
I didn't make special elite without reason, you know...
"Of course, I meant no insult. It is very good to see you again; I had thought you lost, like so many others. Come. We must speak."
The priest offers his hand and the rodent leaps several meters through the air and lands in the palm casually, leaving a shadowy afterimage. Shadows flow oddly around the animal's body as if they are pouring out, far too large for the rodent's small frame. After a moment, it scampers up the man's arm to perch on his shoulder.
Can I have another?
The priest chuckles. "Of course you may," he says. The man reaches into his coat and withdraws another golden package, and tears it open. He breaks a bar of fudge and caramel in half, popping one in his mouth and handing the other to the squirrel, which grabs it between two paws and starts gnawing. Then the priest begins to stroll. "So, do you know of any others?"
I know of three others. She-who-flirts-with-light was lost to hunters. Later, I was separated from East-of-sunset when chased.
"Hunters? Show me."
The nearest street light suddenly buzzes and pops, flickering wildly. A show of light and shadow dances and plays along the wall, telling a story of five hunters, an investigation, a chase, a death. Then it ends.
The priest begins strolling once again, takes another bite of candy, and chews slowly before answering. "They did nothing wrong," the priest says finally. "They merely defend their own, the same as we would."
They killed my friend.
"Yes, but under the circumstances it wasn't wrong. She-who-flirts-with-light was killing humans. You killed several horses. They have a right to defend themselves and their own; we must play by the rules of this world if we wish to prosper. You've described the fates of She-who-flirts-with-light and East-of-sunset. Tell me of the third."
... About a month ago I found our goddess. She was hidden within a child, playing in a grassy field, but she was upset with me. She bid me leave, even when I was weak. Why? Has our holy mother abandoned us?
"This is good news," the man says.
How? Weren't you listening to me? She refuses to help us.
"Not that. The last I heard, the child was still in a coma. Don't worry – she hasn't abandoned us."
She never yelled at me before...
"So, she was a little cross. I saw the fight. First, our holy mother was weakened by widening the gate. Second, she was ridiculed by a midget-demon with the audacity to stand on her head. Third, she was ejected from her first choice of host by a well-timed blow to its head. Fourth, she was injured in battle by the child-host and her father. Finally, she was sealed with the child-host while merging. This would, understandably, make the strongest of us upset," says the priest. "Don't worry. She'll get over it in a few more years. She never could hold a grudge."
I must say, we underestimated the tenacity of these humans.
"Indeed. At least the holy mother found a host worthy of her."
So she was sealed? How? Can we undo it?
"As far as I can tell, the holy mother was sealed by a specialized artifact. But there is no reason to worry; this isn't something time won't fix. That the child has escaped the seal proves it."
What can we do for her?
"We can be there for the child. If she ever wants someone to talk to, some extra cash, a ride home, a meal... whatever we can provide so long as we don't spoil her. Simple things like that will endear us to her and get her used to our presence."
I'm just a squirrel...
The priest chuckles. "Maybe you can be her pet."
I'm a special elite, a warrior of her holy order!
The man smirks. "You're just a squirrel. You said so yourself."
The squirrel sighs and looks forlornly at last the remaining piece of caramel and fudge in the priest's hands.
Oblivious, the priest pops the last bite into his mouth and releases the golden wrapper to the wind. Turning from his path he walks across the street, mind drifting... at least until he is interrupted.
"Nice night, isn't it?" a policeman says with a stern voice.
The priest smiles and glances at the moon and stars once again. "It is beautiful."
"Then I'm sorry to ruin it for you, but I must write you up for two violations of city ordinances: littering and jaywalking. You're lucky you aren't in the park, or I'd get you for feeding that squirrel, too." The officers pulls out a pad and a pen. "Now, what's your name and address?"
The dark man with a shadowy squirrel on his shoulder gazes at the officer for a moment, but remains silent.
The officer's eyes narrow. "If you want to be like that, then you can come down to the station with me."
"That will not be necessary officer, I was merely considering some things of importance. My name is Arden."
"Is that your last name or your first name? And your address?" The officers asks, scribbling something on his pad.
A shadow rises around Arden, seeming to harden, almost a physical thing compared to the softer shadows around it. As the street lamp sways in the chill breeze, the shadow does not sway with it – it sits perfectly still, perfectly black, absorbing all light.
"Arden is my last name, officer. My first name is John, but please call me Arden."
"John? Really? So am I, although I'm Jon without the 'h'," says officer Jon, still scribbling in a pad.
A tendril of shadow lashes out from the mass surrounding Arden and wraps itself around the officer's arms and waist. It lifts the policeman bodily off the ground.
"Wha- What?" Jon gasps out, eyes wide with fear and confusion. The pad and pen fall to the ground, forgotten. The officer's legs flail in the air, but find no purchase.
Arden steps forward and calmly takes the gun from the officer's holster. The priest holds it for a while, in contemplation, ignoring the officer's vain attempts at freedom. Then he turns off the safety, chambers a bullet, and points the gun at the officer's unprotected side. Finally, he pulls the trigger.
BANG! The sound explodes through the silent streets, echoing. Then it is gone.
The officer looks down and wheezes, blood leaking down his uniform, body still. Eyes plead for some understanding. "W-why?"
Arden casually lowers the gun, removes a bullet from the chamber, pops it back in the magazine, and turns on the safety. Finally, without the slightest hurry, he returns the gun to the holster.
"You were too far from the edge," Arden finally explains.
The officer stares. His lips move, but no intelligible sound escapes.
The squirrel scampers down the priest's arm. It sits in the palm, staring at the officer with its small, beady, black eyes. Arden comforts it, pets it, hand caressing its fur, and whispers to it soothingly. "Calm yourself. Relax. Resist your instincts to hold on. Accept the death, embrace the rebirth. We are never who we were a minute ago. Change is nothing to fear; it is inevitable. Let this make you more than you are. Calm... yes that's right... just calm down and let go."
Arden runs his fingers gently along its fur once more, placing his hand around the animal's tiny neck.
The squirrel tenses up and shudders.
The hand twitches. Crrrack. The squirrel's neck breaks with a grinding crunch. But Arden doesn't stop; he twists until the squirrel is looking straight back with its beady black eyes, then he twists some more. Ligaments and muscles tear; nerves, arteries, and skin are ripped apart. The head is torn from the body. Blood rushes from the stump in a dying fountain, staining everything.
Darkness surges from the animal's neck, rising into a volume much larger than the squirrel itself. Part of it reaches out to grab the head, to reattach it, but Arden tosses the head away. Liquid shadow lashes out in pain and panic, first left, then right, up and down and every other direction. Arden's walls of darkness rise to contain it. Softly the priest continues, "Calm down. Let go of this body; another one, a better one, waits for you. You are meant to be far more than a squirrel. You have nothing to fear."
The movements slow becoming smoother and less erratic. Finally, Arden drops the squirrel's corpse and all that remains is the shadow, sitting in his bloody palm like a ball of black oil.
Arden returns his attention to the officer. "Don't worry. You won't die. You won't become a monster. You'll still love your wife, your children, your job; you'll just be... more than you are. The pain will end soon."
The officer gives a raspy cough and spits up a little blood.
Arden extends the dark creature towards the man. "Go, He-who-dances-between-patches-of-sunlight. This one is yours."
Thin tendrils of shadow rise from the black ball and waver in the air. Then all at once they seemingly stretch towards the officer. They enter the nose, and a small trickle of blood pours from the right nostril. More pry open the mouth, making room for dozens to enter. Tendrils of shadow worm their way around the eyeballs and into the sockets. A few tear into his ears and his bullet wound. Then the ball of shadow pours itself along its tendrils, invading the officer's body.
The officer spasms, body wrenching back violently. Then the remaining light fades from his eyes, his head lolls and blood burbles from his mouth.
Arden lowers Jon gently to the ground. The darkness around the priest fades away into the softer shadows one would expect to see. With a wave of his hand and a muttered word, he and the officer are once again impeccably clean.
Squeak. Squeak. The street lamp rocks in the chill winter breeze.
For several minutes, there is no other movement.
Jon's body twitches, then relaxes. The bullet-wound closes. Breath starts with a deep gasp, as from a drowning man. Eyes flicker open, once again filled with life... and confusion, and fear.
Shakily the officer stands and asks, "What did you do to me?"
"You already know the answer to that."
The officer stares, eyes slowly filling with understanding. Finally, the policeman bends down and picks up the pad and pen. Voice recovered, the officer says, "What is your address again, Mr. Arden?"
Arden fishes another golden-wrapped candy bar out of his pocket. He opens the wrapper and takes a bite, staring intently at the officer the whole time.
The officer crumbles the paper with a light laugh, "Of course... What am I thinking? I'll let it go this time, sir, but remember that the law is the law."
"Of course, Jon. Come, and I'll show you to the others."
-oOo-
Hermione's fingertips glide over the small bookshelf in the otherwise bare room, remembering. Geography and History resurrect fond memories involving late-night research at the library, construction paper, scissors, and lots of glue. English summons to mind some of her earliest writings, bound in yarn and read aloud to an uncritical third-year girl. But others- She grabs a book she doesn't recognize, opens it to a random page, and starts reading.
A few passages in, and no closer to a greater understanding of... she closes book and frowns at the cover... of Geometry – Proving the World from Five Postulates, she sets the book aside. She grabs another one: Anatomy and Physiology; her frown becomes a scowl when she encounters hand-drawn and annotated chakra, pressure-point, and ki-flow charts. She wouldn't have recognized them if they weren't titled. She sets that book, too, aside.
The small pile on Ranma's desk grows as a third and fourth book quickly join it.
She glares at the titles as a sickly feeling grows inside her. ...stronger, faster, prettier... smarter... She stomps on it, denying the possibility that Ranma is actually studying these texts... denying that it even matters. So what if Ranma is unusually talented in math and science? And cooking? And karate?
But the nasty emotion doesn't die. It twists her guts, constricts her lungs, and poisons her heart – a snake building a den deep within her soul.
"Are you looking for something, honey?" Elinore asks from the doorway.
"Mom... can we talk?" Hermione asks.
"Of course, dear. What do you want to talk about?"
"... Ranma," Hermione answers hesitantly.
"Oh?" Elinore responds. She steps inside and closes the door. She glances sidelong at the pile of books then adds, "I think I know what this is about, but it's better if you start."
"It's just..." Hermione starts sullenly, suddenly looking at her feet.
"Come here," says Elinore, pulling her twelve year-old child into a tight hug. Finding a seat on the bed, she slowly rocks her daughter. "Say what must be said."
Tears rise in Hermione's eyes as she gives her emotions free reign, occasionally sniffling or sobbing as she speaks. "It's just that she's... she's faster and me and stronger than me, which I could handle, but she's almost superhuman; you saw how she sets the table... and she's a better cook than me, not that I'm a good cook, but I think she's even better than you..."
Elinore frowns a little, but doesn't interrupt.
Hermione's voice and disposition become more bitter as she continues, "...and she's smarter than me. It's something I've always prided, but she's years above me in math and science. I'll probably never catch up, going to Hogwarts and all... and she's prettier than I am, with that beautiful red hair, big blue eyes, cute smile, perfect teeth... and she has good friends, closer than any I've ever had... and she's probably a strong witch, too... It's just too much! She's too good to be true. It seems like she can do anything better than me, and she's two years younger and... and I'm- I'm..."
"You're jealous?" Elinore asks knowingly.
Hermione sniffles and shakes her head against Elinore's shoulder. "No... well, maybe a little, but mostly I'm envious, and it feels horrible."
Elinore blinks at that, having been unaware there was a difference. But she isn't the girl with her very own Compact Oxford English Unabridged Second-Edition Dictionary. She resolves to look it up later; for now, she gently rubs her daughter's back.
"I was envious of a boy once," Elinore says after a moment, still holding Hermione. "He easily passed classes I struggled through. I swear he could sleep through class and still get the highest grade. He was popular, a rugby player, skilled on the piano, and the valedictorian of our class. And somehow, in addition to all that, he managed to find time to help a bushy-haired bookworm study for her biology test."
"What happened?" Hermione asks timidly.
"I married him," answers Elinore. "It was either that or kill him, or at least it felt that way at the time. He didn't ask until we were in college, and I'd been waiting for years." She tightens the hug and smiles smugly at the child in her arms. "It was two more years before we had you."
Hermione squirms uncomfortably until her mother loosens the hug.
"There's no reason to be envious of those you love or those that love you. That might not be the answer you're looking for, but it's the only one I have," Elinore concludes.
Hermione sits still for a while in her mother's arms, just breathing. "The piano downstairs...?" she asks.
"Gareth smashed his hand while playing rugby. Playing the piano was never quite the same," says Elinore. "We gave you a chance at it, but you never seemed interested. You always gravitate towards books, like your mother." Elinore smiles.
Hermione nods.
"Speaking of music, how is Ranma doing anyway?" Elinore asks.
Hermione groans. "She's progressed from banshee to beginner. We've covered holding the violin, basic finger positions, and we've been working on reading sheet music for the last couple days. Yesterday I taught her how to play a simple piece, but then she played it over and over and over again. I wanted to scream!"
Elinore giggles. "When you finally learned to read, you'd read the same books over and over."
"Did not!"
"Did too."
"Fine then, but I was no more than four. Ranma is nine!"
"True. But let her have her victory. It's the first thing remotely related to music that she's performed. Try to teach her a few more pieces so that she'll have some variety."
"I don't know any other pieces. I'm having to relearn this as I teach Ranma. It's sooo frustrating," Hermione growls.
Elinore laughs and hugs Hermione briefly. "Are you feeling better now?"
"Yes, I think so," Hermione answers, pulling herself out of her mother's embrace.
Elinore gazes at Hermione, trying to decide if there is any more she can say.
"Mom?" Hermione asks.
"What, dear?"
"Why didn't you tell me about Ranma? You had two months."
Elinore contemplates for a while before answering.
"I just... it didn't seem like something I should just say or explain on paper," Elinore starts. She sighs and looks at the floor. "I fretted for weeks about what to say, how to say it; 'Oh, by the way, you have a new sister,' just didn't cut it, and nothing I could come up with seemed much better. I couldn't see your face. I didn't know how you'd react. I could imagine you looking at the letter, feeling like you've been replaced or betrayed and I wouldn't be there to hold you and tell you that I love you, that Ranma is a second daughter, a sister to you, not a replacement daughter."
Hermione grabs her mother in a hug. "I'd never think that!"
Elinore grips her child back and forces a smile despite the tears welling in her eyes. "I love you too, with all that I am. But you did think it – just a few days ago you said it aloud, and it hurt... a lot."
Hermione tightens the hug. "Sorry," she mumbles.
"You are forgiven."
Neither mother nor daughter speak for a few minutes, locked in an embrace.
Eventually, Elinore continues, "... After my initial fear, I was able to add justifications. I didn't want to spoil things for you at school, so it became a surprise for when you got home. I convinced myself that you should get your first impression of your new sister from your new sister... Ranma is very charming in her own way."
Hermione frowns. "That she is."
-oOo-
Ranma wobbles unsteadily. She grabs a nearby fence to maintain her precarious balance. Audrey giggles at the sight. Ranma glares in return.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it," Audrey apologizes, stifling another giggle.
Kathryn nods enthusiastically. "Yeah! We were fully expecting to see you start off by skating on top of the fence. I mean, you run on top of them all the time!"
The three girls are outside, wearing their roller-blades. Audrey rolls steadily, carefully to the fence from which Ranma is suspending herself. Kathryn skates energetically, sliding left and right, forwards and backwards, twirling and turning at a whim.
"Here," Audrey says with a smile, offering her hand. "Hold my hand. I'll help you,"
Ranma looks at it warily, reluctant to abandon her support.
Kathryn circles around and spins to a stop. "Come on it isn't that hard! It only took me a week to learn how to skate, and look at me now! I'm sure if you really try you'll be skating circles around both of us pretty soon!"
Ranma enviously watches Kathryn pirouette, leap, and land skating backwards. Then, taking a shaky step forward, Ranma seizes Audrey's hand. The two nearly collapse, but Audrey is able to restore their balance.
Audrey grins and pulls the smaller girl towards her. "There you go. That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Ranma wobbles a bit on her feet, warily watching the ground. Audrey takes a step forward, skating ahead, and gestures for Ranma to do the same. Within a few minutes they are making headway, Ranma surviving only by clinging to Audrey for her dear life.
Kathryn takes the lead, often skating backwards while chatting. Occasionally, when the energetic girl gets too far ahead, she skates a few circles around the pair and falls in line with them before taking the lead again.
"See! It's pretty easy when you get used to it," Kathryn declares now that the girls are moving. "Come on! If we hurry up we can stop at the Candy Corner shop before it closes. My dad gave me a five pounds to buy stuff with. I want to get some Christmas candies and some eggnog; they should be on sale!"
"I'm not so sure Ranma will be able to make it," Audrey says, carefully observing their redheaded companion.
Ranma's dismal expression becomes fierce determination. With wavering legs, she stands upright. "It isn't that far," she says stiffly. Immediately, she skates a few staggering steps, still not relinquishing Audrey's hand.
Ranma's obstinate efforts brings them to their destination within a few more minutes. Kathryn wastes no time and skates directly into the store. Ranma, instead, plops down on the steps and starts working off the skates.
Audrey looks back and forth between the two girls, then says, "I'd better follow her in case she gets into trouble."
Ranma nods, too intent on prying the skate off her foot to an answer.
Audrey gives Ranma another glance before she disappears, skating carefully into the store.
Ranma finally works off the other skate. Hopping happily to her feet, she stretches, then turns to head into the shop. But something- Ranma frowns, peering into shadow. There is a person standing there, off to the side of the store, in the darkened ally, wrapped in shadow and a black trench coat. Only a glint, a golden glimmer, reveals the person's presence.
"Ranma," the man says, stepping forward. Better light reveals the gleaming object in his hand; it is a dagger, hilt made of ribbed gold, the hand guard silver. The blade is sheathed in simple leather. The man carrying it is young, Asian, perhaps in his twenties, and he carries it in a clearly non-threatening manner, as an offering. "Here; this is yours, sensei," he says in Japanese.
Ranma walks closer, frowning. She eyes him curiously and asks, also in Japanese, "Who are you?"
"An old traveling companion and friend." He pauses then shakes his head. "You wouldn't remember. It doesn't matter." Offering the dagger again he adds, "Take it – the knife is yours, was yours. I've only been its custodian."
Ranma hesitantly accepts the weapon, grabbing the heavy hilt. Intrigued, she unsheathes the blade. It is made of long, lusterless black iron that seems to absorb all light. The blade tapers to a point at almost the length of her forearm. It does not appear to be very sharp. In fact, excepting the dark blade, the dagger seems to be largely ceremonial.
"Keep it close to you at all times. You'll need it to protect yourself; not all things can be hurt by fists or guns... not even your fists. You know this better than most," the man says. He displays iron on a chain of silver, the flame, the eye, the star. Then he hides it again.
Ranma fingers her own silver necklace.
"Yes. I gave you that amulet, too," he says.
Ranma fixes the man with a dark glare. "What is your name? Why did you call me 'sensei'? What do you know of my past?"
"Can't I play the mysterious benefactor?" he complains.
The girl's eyes don't waver.
"Fine," he says. "I am Gosunkugi Hikaru. I traveled with you and your father for the greater part of a year. You were studying magic, looking for a cure to a water-based gender-bender curse. I was simply studying magic and providing money for food, travel, food and more food. Speaking of which, I have a belated Christmas gift for you."
Gosunkugi pulls out an envelope and hands it to Ranma, who opens it up and peers inside. The girl's smile widens when she finds five all-you-can-eat gift certificates to a Chinese buffet near her home.
"Domo arigato!" she exclaims honestly.
Gosunkugi smiles. "I figured the dagger was already yours so I shouldn't make it the Christmas gift. Oh, and happy new year."
Ranma fixes him with her intense gaze again. "... and 'sensei'?" she prompts.
Gosunkugi frowns. "Would 'you taught me' suffice?"
Ranma shakes her head slightly, still staring him down.
The man returns her gaze evenly. "Very well, then," he says. "Your father wasn't a very honest man. Most of the magic we studied was in books stolen from evil cultists. Your father justified it as doing the right thing; It's a martial artist's duty to smash evil cults, he said more than once. But after we were finished studying those books, we'd pawn them for traveling money and do our very best to outrun any problems."
Ranma nods with a smile on her face. She is enraptured by the story of her past. Gosunkugi's insult to her biological father doesn't even rile her.
"Those cultists would usually be quite upset and would often chase us for miles with swords, bows, even guns, and often in vehicles. But we survived. Your father was an expert at making himself scarce; I never once used my passport or ID in our travels, and you two didn't even carry any! However, sometimes those cultists would manage to track us down and show up months later in whatever country had become our newest stomping grounds. Further, several cults summoned demons after us and we had to destroy or banish those using magic and martial arts... though once they somehow managed to summon Happosai, who we couldn't destroy or banish despite our efforts.
"Anyhow, after one too many close calls, you decided to teach me some martial arts. Your father was opposed, but heh! I was quite motivated and already in good shape from all the running for my life. It didn't take long to teach me the basics."
Ranma's eyes brighten... she'd been looking for a good fight.
Gosunkugi panics. "No! I'm not nearly ready to spar evenly with you, though I wouldn't mind more instruction. I'll pay for it." He glances at the candy store. "Well, it's time for me to go... here's my card in case you decide to contact me." After handing her a card, he steps back into the shadows. They seem to harden, twist, and fold, wrapping themselves around him like a cloth, then he is gone.
Audrey's voice speaks from the candy store. "Ranma, what's taking you so long?"
Ranma quickly hides the dagger and envelope, picks up her skates, then turns to face Audrey. "Nothing. ... just thought I saw something in the alley," she answers carefully. She walks to her friend, stepping carefully to keep her socks clean... or at least from getting any dirtier.
Audrey gazes analytically at her friend for a moment, then smiles. "Want some bubblegum?" she asks, offering a stick. "I've already paid for it. Kate is still hunting for different candies."
"Thanks," Ranma answers, accepting the stick and popping it in her mouth. She lets Audrey lead her towards Kathryn, and finally looks at the card in her hand. In addition to a London address and phone number, it reads:
Manty-corp
- for when the police don't believe you -
She blows a big bubble.
Pop!
-oOo-
... fshpfhhsphshfhshhsspshf ...
Click.
Hermione turns off the television then looks at the tangle of limbs and covers on the ground. The girls had been up most of the night with a pile of badly subbed import martial arts films, and the last girl awake must have crashed before shutting everything down.
Hermione frowns at them in disapproval.
"They look so cute like that, don't they?" states Elinore, arriving from behind.
Kathryn lies in the center, arms and legs akimbo. One of her knees digs into Ranma's side, even as she pulls the small redhead close with an arm. Her other arm is trapped under Audrey. As they watch, Kathryn flops and twists around a bit into a position that looks even more uncomfortable for all three girls. Their blankets are tangled around their legs, having been kicked off during the night.
Hermione grimaces. "They look uncomfortable," she says after a moment.
"That too," Elinore replies, moving to lift the covers back into place.
Kathryn wakes with a start, yawns into her hand, then rubs her eyes. She looks at Hermione. "You're leaving today?"
Hermione nods and says, "In just a few hours."
"Can you show me a little magic before you go? Pleeease," Kathryn begs.
"No," Hermione says with a scowl. "For the last time, no, I'm not going to show you any magic! I'd get in trouble. And you're not even supposed to know about it, so just forget about it... literally."
"Oh! ... Well, then... Can you show me a little magic before you go? Pleeease," Kathryn begs again.
"No!"
"But last time you said that you said 'No' for the last time," Kathryn argues, pouting. "Didn't she, Mrs. Granger?"
"I do believe she's right, dear," Elinore says with a small smile.
Hermione's hands tighten into claws, then she growls and stomps off to the kitchen.
When she returns a few minutes later, the other girls are already waking up. Gareth plods in behind her, a cup in his hand and bags under his eyes, looking far more bedraggled and tired than usual.
"Hey! Mr. Granger, you missed the one with the-," Kathryn throws a few punches and a kick, tearing the covers from the other girls while trying to show Gareth exactly what he missed.
"Huh?" Gareth asks.
"She means the one with the Japanese ninjas, the Chinese chef, the cowboy, and the nun," clarifies Audrey, stifling a yawn. "Either that or the one with the samurai vampires, the Japanese cops, the zombie warrior, and the priest."
"Ah," Gareth replies unenthusiastically. He brings the cup to his lips then frowns. After peering into it, he turns and shuffles his way back into the kitchen.
"Kiiaiaa!" Kathryn exclaims, throwing a final punch.
Ranma stirs and cracks open her eyes. "Straighten your wrist, Kate; you'd break it if you punched someone like that," she mutters. She sits up and looks around bleary-eyed. "Ohayo gozaimas," she yawns.
"Ohayo," replies Elinore in her normal dulcet tones.
Ranma pushes herself to her feet. "I guess I'd better start breakfast," she says, yawning again. She begins trudging to the kitchen with a fraction of her normal energy.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of -" Elinore winces as Ranma collides with her husband in the doorway, instantly drenching the child under Gareth's fresh cup of scalding coffee.
Ranma pauses in the doorway, hissing under her breath in obvious pain.
"Gomen," Gareth mumbles wearily. Then he summons the energy to drag her into the kitchen adding, "Let's get you cleaned up and run cold water over that."
Hermione, Audrey, and Kathryn are left gaping at the kitchen doorway. Elinore turns to gaze at the children, a contemplative look on her face.
"Her hair, it just turned black..." says Audrey after a moment, breaking the silence.
"Well maybe it was really black coffee," says Kathryn.
"That would take coffee with the consistency of paint. Not even my dad drinks coffee that strong," Hermione argues, looking just as contemplative as her mother. "At least not on a normal morning," she adds drolly.
Elinore smiles at that, then sighs. "I suppose it's time to tell you one of Ranma's secrets," she says. Then she frowns and glares at the three girls sharply. "But you must promise not to let it harm your relationship with her; that would hurt her beyond measure."
The children quickly utter a chorus of promises under Elinore's scary scrutiny.
"Is this the transformation you mentioned when I first arrived?" Hermione asks. "Did Ranma just change into a boy?"
Elinore nods. "How did you guess?"
"XX, XY, transformation, a little research... Ranma has a pretty good text on biology in her room," Hermione explains. "But I never figured you were talking about her until just now; I read about some frogs that -"
Hermione halts as Ranma returns with two bowls of water, red hair, a towel, and a resigned expression on her face, as though she's walking to the slaughter.
Kathryn takes one look at the smaller girl and immediately rushes to hug her tightly, forcing Ranma to struggle to avoid sloshing her bowls of water. "Don't worry, Ranma. We love you no matter what!" Kathryn says vehemently.
"... Really?" Ranma asks weakly.
Audrey nods as she takes the bowls from Ranma's hands, then joins the hug. "We're best friends. A little thing like turning into a boy won't drive us away," she says.
"Besides, now I know who to ask if I ever need a last minute boyfriend for a dance," Kathryn says with a grin.
Ranma smiles and lets herself lean on the taller girls, resting her head against Kathryn's chest.
Hermione watches, feeling envious once again, seeing Ranma with such dedicated friends. After a few seconds, she feels Elinore placing an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug. They hold the position for minutes that seem like hours. Then Audrey voices Hermione's own questions... or at least a few of them.
"How do you change?" Audrey asks. "Can you show us?"
"Yeah, I've gotta see this!" Kathryn exclaims.
Ranma nods then moves the bowls of water to the coffee table.
"It has something to do with water?" Hermione asks curiously.
Ranma nods again. "Warm water changes me into a boy," she says. She dips her hands into a bowl, and the changes are almost instantaneous. Her hair darkens into black, her facial structure becomes subtly but perceptibly masculine, and she shrinks in height fractions of an inch. She is now a 'he'.
"Cold water changes you back?" Audrey guesses.
Ranma smiles and dips a hand into the second bowl. Again, the changes are almost instantaneous; he grows a fraction of an inch, his face becomes feminine, and his black hair fades into fiery red. He is now a 'she' – the redheaded Ranma with whom they are so familiar.
"What does it feel like?" asks Kathryn.
"Like getting wet. I hardly notice the change except -" Ranma blushes, embarrassed. "- down there. It's rather uncomfortable when I change into a boy while wearing panties."
The other three girls and Elinore blush at that revelation. They hadn't even considered it.
"How do you change?" Audrey asks, regaining her composure faster than the others.
"Magic, I guess," answers Ranma, shrugging.
"Hey! I've been wanting a demonstration of magic for two weeks, and you were there all along!" Kathryn complains.
Ranma stares at Kathryn for a long moment, as though about to answer. Then, suddenly, Ranma tackles and starts tickling the taller girl.
Kathryn's squeals and laughter quickly become a shrill plea for aid.
Gareth walks to the rescue carrying tea and a plate of biscuits for the ladies. Before they even make it to the coffee table, Kathryn and Ranma are off the ground with over half the biscuits in their hands and mouths. Gareth smirks at their antics then looks at Audrey and says, "We don't know why she changes. The only explanation we have is from the Ministry of Magic, that this is due to a magical accident over two years ago."
"Dad! She isn't even supposed to know about the Ministry of Magic," Hermione protests.
"Audrey and Kathryn are almost members of our family. They have a right to know, as much as anyone," argues Gareth. "Besides, I doubt Ranma could keep it from them, anyway."
Kathryn preens and Audrey flushes with delight at this revelation.
"Not even Aunt Liz and Uncle Dan are allowed to know," Hermione says, irritated, but she stops arguing after a hard look from her father. Turning to Ranma, she asks, "Were you born a boy or a girl?"
"I don't know," Ranma mumbles through a mouthful of biscuit. She suddenly looks at Elinore, who is glaring right back, then carefully chews and swallows before continuing. "I've been this way as long as I can remember," she adds.
"But Dad said it happened just a couple years ago."
"I don't have any memory from more than a few months ago, oneesan," Ranma says darkly.
"Sorry. I forgot."
"... You have nothing to be sorry about, oneesan. It's just that -" Ranma frowns and shakes her head, cutting herself off then changing the subject. "I made a promise. 'oneesan' means 'honored elder sister', oneesan. Thanks for the help with the violin, by the way." Ranma smirks and adds, "I'm sure everyone appreciates it."
Kathryn, Audrey, Gareth, and Elinore all nod in accordance.
"You're welcome, I guess," says Hermione. "So you've been calling me 'big sis' all along?"
Ranma nods. "I'd like you to call me 'imoutosan'," she says after a moment.
"And what does that mean?" Hermione asks.
Gareth answers this time. "It essentially means 'honored little sister', although it's more of a polite form, somewhat like 'mister' which derives from 'master' but is rarely used with such connotations. You'd know all this if you watched a few of those movies last night." He grumbles the last.
"I needed to sleep last night, and you should have, too, since you'll be driving me to King's Cross in an hour," Hermione argues. Then she looks at Ranma and asks teasingly, "Doesn't saying 'honored' seem a little cumbersome? And what if I don't particularly feel like honoring you?"
Ranma looks a little hurt by her answer. "You and Audrey and Kate and... okaasan and otousan... are all I have, other than my art and that stupid violin," she says, looking at each person in tandem.
Elinore is glowing, and a smile comes to Gareth's lips. This is the first time Ranma has called her 'Mom' and him 'Dad'. Although Japanese is not their own language, the adoptive parents recognize the words for what they are and what they mean. They know that, for Ranma, 'okaasan' and 'otousan' have much more meaning than 'Mom' and 'Dad'.
Ranma's demeanor suddenly gains a terrific intensity. This time, they avert their eyes as Ranma gazes at them. "I don't know much about my previous life. I don't know what it takes to be a warrior at the age of six. But I do know that you are my family now. I would fight to protect you," she says. Even Gareth looks away as her eyes meet his. "If necessary, I would kill to protect you. It only seems right that I honor you, oneesan."
Hermione feels Ranma's hand lift her chin, forcing her to meet the redhead's terrible gaze. Something primal in her panics. She tries to look away with her eyes, but finds herself frozen, fixed, falling into the icy-blue waters.
Then Ranma releases her, letting her look away. The awe-inspiring aura vanishes, and Ranma adds, in a weak voice, "But you could call me 'imoutochan', if you would still have me as your sister, Hermione"
Hermione is left reeling, feeling stunned, appalled, hurt, loved, awe, fear, as if her heart had just been torn away then replaced backwards and upside down... a dozen emotions conflicting, clashing, warring for dominance. And she isn't the only one. Elinore and Gareth look especially distraught, and Audrey is as wide-eyed and stunned as Hermione. Only Kathryn gazes at Ranma with stars in her eyes, as though the redhead is her personal knight with a white horse and shining armor, or maybe a fiery-haired goddess to worship, or, considering Ranma's transformation, perhaps both at once.
Ranma, the child, the baby, the youngest of them all, had said she'd kill for them if necessary. It was appalling; it was horrible; it makes Hermione feel safe that someone of Ranma's extraordinary capacities will be looking out for her, willing to kill for her, when she most needs it, and she is disgusted that she feels that way. But it wasn't just the speech. Ranma's intensity was immense, terrifying, palpable. Hermione felt she could reach out and wrap it around herself like a blanket to ward away those who would harm her. It was inhuman, primal, powerful like Ranma's strength and agility, invoking a furious envy, fear, and a healthy respect.
And, for Hermione, there was more. Ranma had called her by name for the first time, and she felt as though she had lost something... something important, something special, something she didn't even know she had until she lost it... and when that Ranma girl questioned her position as sister, it hurt, more than she ever would have expected.
Hermione snaps out of her stupor in time to see her adopted sister walking away, looking as though she had just gambled her heart and lost... which, in a way, she had. Ranma had just confessed her true feelings to everyone, and they were all still standing stupidly, lost in their thoughts as Hermione had been, not giving the emotionally vulnerable child the unconditional affection she needs.
Hermione reaches out and grabs the smaller girl into her arms, then buries her face in Ranma's red hair. "I'll be glad to have you as my sister, imoutosan."