SIGNIFICANT CHANGES MADE. Sorry to all who do not like this. From now on, ill try not to do that but I pained over it and ultimately decided that I wanted to explore different concepts which required a change. My first ever attempt at creative writing of any sort and it's not beta read; I have no idea what I am doing, so your brutal honesty is much appreciated. Bear with the shitty poems, they are my sorry attempt at foreshadowing. WARNING: for readers not familiar with canon Ranma 1/2, Genma is extremely sexist. But this is a story of growth for everyone involved. :)
Chapter 4: Wretched Red, those Spider lilies.
Fresh splatters of crimson bloomed aside newly budding spider lilies. It was festive like one of those big trees decorated with ornaments Ranma had seen in the heart of Tokyo the previous winter. Christmasu—they call it—a western holiday that Japanese couples celebrate in the name of love. But today, unlike then, there was no snow, no Tokyo and Ranma was alone—at least for now.
Manjushage. Ranma recalled. It was a better name than higanbana, since those spider lilies bloomed so ahead of the fall equinox. Manjushage was an alternate name, the name for them when Genma brought them to her mother's grave. So, Ranma supposed they could be manjushage now, since they might serve a similar purpose. Technically, those spider lilies were premature.
The trail continued where the wild flower bed had stopped, weaving into the shaded undergrowth, coating lower hanging leaves and smearing across the tree branches that bore them. This trail wasn't hard to follow, the conjointly disturbed shrubbery all leading to the same place: a form crumpled against the rough bark of a tree, gasping in shallow breaths.
It would have been a terrible hiding spot had Ranma been trying to hide at all. The crimson dribbled over, painting her pallid lips as a cough died into a halfhearted sputter. Two slender fingers inched over, dragging the other hand that was bound at the wrist to inspect the searing pain in her ribcage. They stopped when they brushed at the base of protruding wood and her face contorted in pain. The arrow in the thigh was but a small scratch compared to this one. This one was special, tucked wickedly into her vital organs and nearly as painful as the reality that this was probably the end. With a feeble shudder and exhale, Ranma's features smoothed back over, almost peaceful. Both hands fell limp like her own willingness to fight when they found her. Even if they didn't kill her, she would succumb to her injuries on her own. In this world, a small cut could do you in.
Ranma heard a tree rustle lightly nearby and two soft thumps followed in short succession. Ranma couldn't be bothered to see which visitor had come to witness her demise. If it was another villager, they had already achieved their goal. If they wanted Ranma to plead for her life, she vowed to look them dead in the eyes and push the arrow deeper herself. The irony of it all didn't pass by Ranma.
Who was the demon now?
At a light tugging sensation, Ranma's eyes fluttered open. The unfocused green depths blinked at the flooding of red in every aspect of her visual field. It was everywhere, the wretched color of her hair, her blood and spider lillies. Red could go fuck itself.
Sliding her head off its resting position, it bobbed down and forward with gravity. A brow with caked mud and blood scrunched up and Ranma hissed–or rather, she gurgled—when the action pulled on the arrow buried in her side. Very non-red appendages with pointed tips blurred in and out of focus. Doubling, tripling like a fleshy insect slicing through the bindings cutting deep into Ranma's wrists. In this weak form, Ranma could not break them on her own. When the dots invading her vision settled, the image focused into a set of hands. Ranma considered the razor edges at the tips with an inking of intrigue.
Looking up through thick red lashes and heavy lids, Ranma was engulfed by a beacon in the forest shade. It was unimaginably breathtaking, shimmering topaz alit with the fire of the sun. Ranma was melting into its warmth, sinking into its depths until a wisp of silver swept by. Only then did the sun differentiate into two separate orbs, with feline pupils. Ranma wouldn't complain if this was the last thing she would see.
Why is he helping me? Ranma wondered.
The figure had retreated several paces back since Ranma had looked upon him. Now crouched before her, observing her with a tentative and uncertain air, and he looked conflicted on some level. Those men were probably still looking for her, Ranma supposed. Is that what he was worried about?
Ranma was in a blood loss-induced stupor by now, but the white appendages flitting around on his head still managed to catch her ebbing focus. Ranma noticed the molten orbs flick upward, presumably to the top of Ranma's head and its blazing red tresses clumped with blood. For unknown reasons, the stranger regarded it with an expression of perplexion. The stranger's nose flared lightly, his pupils dilated, and following his eyes led her to the arrow she may soon have to weaponize against herself. It was such a truly peculiar experience to have an object sticking out of you.
The beautiful stranger's gruff demeanor softened ever so slightly, and those triangles of fur fell back in tandem. His jaw and eyes tightened shortly after and he shook his head. Now they bore disgust–or was it anger? guilt? Ranma ebbing consciousness made it difficult to discern.
"They got you good didn't they?" a gravelly voice whispered. For Ranma's ears, and ebbing attention, she received only intermittent snippets as she watched his mouth motion the rest. It appeared to be a question, directed to nobody.
He was clearly much bigger than her, but Ranma also supposed that being on your deathbed makes a person feel small. A flicker of movement caught Ranma's gaze. His fingers had twitched, the pointed tips aching to do those daggers finish her off? Ranma wasn't sure if she cared anymore.
Ranma vaguely made out his figure, the periphery was rapidly blurring. The red Ranma had seen had been the fabric of his strange looking robes. Ranma's eyelids were getting heavy again, her mind drifting away bit-by-bit like the burning in the ribcage, and the pulsating ache of the arrow in her thigh. Even the heaviness of her limbs and light wheezing of her lungs—all of it pushed away for the symphony of the lush wood and unpolluted breeze that caressed Ranma's skin.
"Ye better run ye demon bitch!" The man hooted, the hateful gleam in his eye, making him one of many with the same goal. And Ranma did, stumbling countless times like a drunkard. Everything was so heavy, her appendages felt like jello and hollow trunks of wood at the same time. Ranma tugged at the binding around her hands but it was no use. She was a woman, not a demon. Unfortunately.
Run. I have to run.
It was a brush against her cheeks that pulled her out of the descending darkness one last time. The sensation and motion brought ushered a waft of air that made Ranma aware of the wetness on her cheeks. Ranma wasn't surprised. She was a weak pitiful woman, right?
The blackness of her periphery had grown by now, gulping up swaths of what was left and tunneling her into what she was sure would be her oblivion. Ranma could make out what looked like a web. Intricate, red threads going in all directions, vibrating on a glowing background, pulsing in rhythm with Ranma's slowing heart. Abruptly, in a single flash, like a giant swinging his mighty fist through a spider's web, they were collapsing.
Whatever it was, it was rapidly unraveling. All were disintegrating, starting first with one thread until the rest followed suit. As the red glow they harnessed had faded with it, a sense of dread filled Ranma's being. There are no words to describe the horror, a guttural terror felt then by Ranma alone in an inky abyss. When the threads had receded completely, there was an unsettling disconnect, like an electric "pop" but with so much more weight, like the sound of background noise that had stopped after centuries of a comforting hum. It was not quiet, because quiet—that was something. But whatever that was, that was nothing. The absence of existence-all of it. No beginning or end. Nobody or anything.
Ranma
"please". Ranma begged with a soundless voice to a nobody in the nothingness.
RANMA!
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" A voice-her voice-screeched into the void. With a gasp, Ranma snapped open her eyes and shot up. The first thing Ranma did was frantically pat at his torso
"Its gone." Ranma breathed. A familiar voice snapped her attention back to reality.
"Ranma" Genma's voice repeated for the third time. His expression furrowed in a concerned manner. "You alright boy?" he asked.
Ranma stared blankly at him for a few moments. What had he been dreaming about again? Why couldn't be remember even though his heart was still racing? He swallowed down the rest of the adrenaline, only to lamely reply.
"Yuh."
Genma stood up and scrutinized his son for a few moments, as if trying to decipher something. In the end, he yawned and scratched his belly as he walked over to the corner of the room, where they kept the few weapons they practiced with. Grabbing a pole, he tossed it over to Ranma before grabbing one for himself.
"Then it's time to train," Genma grunted. "The first one to lose balance forfeits their breakfast!"
Ranma instantly perked up, jumping to his feet with a renewed vigor, ready for the challenge. "Like hell I will, ol' man!"
Genma walked out the door with Ranma following behind him. On the stairway, they passed by Akane who was on the way up. Her dress caught Ranma's attention. It was a pretty ordinary bright red sundress but Ranma eyes followed it up. Something about it was so achingly familiar as if he had just seen fabric like that somewhere, but couldn't pinpoint where exactly. Maybe in the dream be couldnt remember? Lost in thought, Ranma was unaware that he was staring so intently on it , causing Akane to stop.
"Is there something wrong Ranma?" Akane asked, looking down from the top of the stairs at Ranma with a questioning, worried look.
"Oh! Uh, no Akane. Looks nice!" Ranma said, scratching the back of the neck out of embarrassment. "The dress" he specified.
"Oh. Well…thanks." Akane replied, looking a little surprised. There was a small rosy hint to her cheeks, which Ranma didn't notice.
"Ranma! What ya doing boy!" Genmas voice could be heard calling in the outside training area.
"Im comin', Im comin' old man!" Ranma hollered back. Before walking away he gave Akane a polite smile. They were set to be married in just about a month now. The nerves, Ranma guessed, could explain the awkwardness that floated between them now and the sinking feeling he felt in his stomach at the thought. A lot was going to change soon. He had to man up—become a true Saotome.
…
Manjushage woven web
autumn's heavenly flower
Bending to blows of wind
to fracture or mend.
...
The skies were a beautiful shade of orange by the time Ranma had decided to stop playing around and end the fight with Ryoga. It ended like it usually did: "Until next time Ranma, be prepared! I wont lose!", Ryoga vowed for the billionth time before going off to get lost somewhere and train by punching bears or something ridiculous like that. Ryoga could really use some chill.
Today, Ranma had places to be.
Pops had told him he had to be home before dinner to sign some paperwork. It was another task in a mountain that had to be done in just a few short weeks. Everyone was buzzing about with preparations for the wedding-His wedding. As the days drew closer, the pit in his stomach got deeper but Ranma couldn't completely grasp why. Akane might be a bull-headed, stubborn and sometimes (often) an infuriating woman, but she was very pretty and smart. He knew that she had begun to develop feelings for him. He was a lucky man, as many presumed. He should feel lucky.
Ranma jumped onto the fence, walking the narrow ledge with grace and a cocky stride while he mulled these things over on his way back to the Tendo estate. Ranma gazed out on his way, taking in his new home and neighborhood. Gods the view was beautiful as the sun descended on Nerima. The houses and buildings and shops were cast in gold and hugged by shadows like a painting. A feeling seeped into Ranma with the sting of sentimentality and resignation, a small smile coming to his lips. It wasn't quite contentment but it was close if you ignored the holes in it. Holes could be patched up with effort and time.
"Ranma!" A familiar voice called out. Ranma reached the end of the fence, grabbed the telephone pole and flipped off of it to land in front of thoroughly unamused Akane. Hands on hips and a twitch to her eyebrow said everything he needed to know. Bending at the hips, hands in pockets Ranma stooped down to Akane's level and put on his best smirk. His Ranma-Saotome-smirk.
"You're–" Akane began.
"Late?" Ranma finished with a chuckle and a light flick to her forehead which made her face flame. "Almost like you're in a rush to marry me, Akane" he continued, melting his smirk into his most charming grin.
Akane stammered, pulling back her arm in her desire to deliver him a much deserved uppercut but stopped and crossed her arms instead with a disgruntled huff. Ranma was impressed by her restraint but some part of him felt a little disappointed that even this was changing. It was a good thing that she was taking this thing very seriously.
"Genma had to go out to get another document he said he couldn't find. He said you need to sign the papers on the dresser" Akane explained, matter-of-factly before picking up what looked like a hefty bucket of garden soil. Apparently Kasumi had a talk with her about trying to channel her anger more "feminine" disciplines, though, no doubt, the kitchen was immediately taken off the list of options. Imagining the conversation made Ranma chuckle.
"What are you laughing at?" Akane began with an accusatory tone that immediately halted when Ranma took the bucket from her hands.
"Let me help you with this" Ranma offered, radiating warmth that made Akane's heart flutter. Akane stared at him for a surprised moment before her temper fizzled out and she fiddled with her garden gloves to avoid eye contact. The interaction was so pleasant that it was taking time to get used to. Some part of her also felt conflicted about her own feelings for falling in love with this Ranma that he had dutifully reclined himself to. That's what is was-duty. She knew he was making this sacrifice for everyone but himself. Ranma was taking this very seriously as well, in his own way. knowing that, seeing that felt out of place no matter how hard she tried to reframe her thinking.
"Thank you, Ranma" Akane said softly.
As if feeling the sadness in her voice, Ranma looked over his shoulder with a knowing expression, sharing her slightly wistful gaze for a few short moments. Eventually it was replaced by a playful smirk.
"You're such a clutz, you'd spill it all over the place before you got to the garden!" he quipped before jogging up to the estate perimeter and jumping over it before she could react.
"Hey!" he could hear Akane exclaim from the other side, and Ranma took satisfaction that there was no more sadness in it this time around. Ranma laughed, placing the bucket by the raised bed she was working on. The flowers planted so far were haphazardly jutting out of the soil and the only ones that were upright were the dandelions and weeds in between them. "Poor flowers" he mused. Dusting off his hands Ranma entered through the back entrance and went straight to the fridge for a snack only to be shooed away by Kasumi.
"Alright alright, 'm sorry" Ranma said before crunching into an apple he had snagged anyway. Pushing through the bedroom door he and his pops shared, Ranma sat the apple on the dresser before doing a terrible job wiping his mouth and then examining the documents. The light outside had started to settle into the evening and so the room was cast in grey-yellow light, his own shadows fading into the others. When Ranma reached for a pen in the mug on the dresser top, there was none.
"Gah. That ol man don't put nothin' back where it belongs" Ranma mumbled to himself as he searched for it. looking under the dresser, there were only dust bunnies. Moving on, Ranma popped the apple back into his mouth, he held it there while he busied his hands in the drawers, yanking out clothing, miscellaneous items like expired coupons and a few yen.
Where is that damn pen? Ranma fumbled through the drawers until he found it and proceeded to shove the boxers back until his fingers grazed the surface of a box he hadn't seen before. Ranma dropped down into a criss-cross fashion, pulling out a dusty dull pink box and examined it carefully. Grabbing the apple from his mouth, Ranma took a bite as he opened the lid. The first thing he pulled out was a 5cm faded photograph of a beautiful woman with a protruding belly and a very happy man. Squinting at the photo Ranma looked at the man very hard before his eyes lit up and widened with amazement.
"That's pops when he was young!" and when he had hair! His eyes slid over to the person next to him in the photo. "That must be …Mom" Ranma whispered in awe . His finger landed on the woman in the photo, stroking her face softly and a gentle smile pulled onto his face.
Ranma eagerly grabbed the rest of the pile of photographs and forms from the box, flipping through each photo as if a time traveler into time before his mother had died. Every photo of her was so genuine and authentic, Ranma felt as if he was actually meeting her. Ranma was enraptured by the photos of his mother, completely forgetting about the pen and had quickly at to the bottom of the pile, fingering a small trifolded document on very thick and intricate stationary. Ranma picked it up, carefully unfolding it and hoping it to be a something else about his mother. Ranma was disappointed to find it was just his birth certificate.
"hm…that's funny. That's the wrong character for male–" he whispered to himself, brows furrowed.
Ranma stared at the small official print on the page, blinking several times and double checking the name. Triple checking it. Ramna Saotome-His name, it was. It was impossible because Ranma was cursed to turn into a girl. If Ranma was actually a girl then that would mean. His hands, once steady, began to tremble and his lungs felt like they were folding in. His eyes bore into the paper with disbelief and confusion.
"Pops wouldn't–". Ranma felt his mind roll in his head like the apple in his stomach.
"This cant…im not" Ranma wheezed, hearing the gushing of blood in his ears as his own world began to teeter. His hand dropped the paper, which fluttered down beside the half eaten apple when he stumbled to his feet, swaying a bit as nausea roiled in his gut.
"Oi, Ranma, I got this for you to sign too. They said they need it back by Monday." Genma's voice hollared out from down the hall as he made is return to the Tendo household. Genma arched a brow when he didn't hear a reply and he walked to the room to find the door slightly ajar. "Ranma?" he asked. Right when he placed a hand on the door, it was yanked open with such force that a hinge popped off and embedded itself into the wall, narrowly missing a Tendo family photo. Genma stumbled backward, bumping into a vase stand and fumbling to keep it from falling and shattering to the floor. At the last moment his fingers caught it, preventing their tab to the Tendo's from going up
"Hey! What the hells do you think you're…" Genma snapped in admonishment but when his eyes landed on Ranma, and he was very quickly tripping over his own tongue. "...doing…"
For a few excruciating seconds Ranma and Genma stared at each other, so deafening the quiet that the ticking of the grandfather clock seemed comparatively loud. His son seemed to loom over him, his muscles rippling with adrenaline and masculine energy, his eyes wide and chest heaving as if he had just finished training. The blood was drained from his face and his expression was blank and shell-shocked. Ranma looked at the ground, blinked and then barreled past Genma, sending the vase slipping from his grip and smashing into pieces on the wall. Ranma bolted up the stairs to the bathroom, knocking past Nabiki who gave a startled yelp.
Genma sat dazed for a moment, digesting all the chaos while looking at the shattered fragments of a Tendo heirloom. Standing up he went into the room to make sense of this outburst. He only got halfway through the doorway before he froze, his eyes locking on the box and its damning mess outside the dresser. Genma's face twisted into a frown as he connected in the dots.
Kasumi, hearing the crash and stomping up the stairs, had ventured out of the kitchen and observed the wreckage with a worried expression. Seeing the shards of vase, she touched her heart and gave a soft 'oh my'. Ranma had been very careful about not damaging the estate anymore as the wedding date approached for financial reasons so this was an abrupt turn of events that made her very concerned.
"What happened here!? Is everything okay?" Akane asked in alarm, bursting into the house covered in garden soil and with a leaf sticking out of her hair.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Ranma lurched forward, dropping to his knees and retching into the toilet forcefully. His whole body shook and his dry heaves turned into manic sobs and hiccups. The liquid from his eyes drained over his face, mixing with snot and the bit of bile left on the rim of his mouth. He drug his sleeve across his mouth wiping away the vile mixture only to have it be replaced by a stream of those same descending liquids.
"Nothing happened. Nothing's wrong." Genma asserted without moving from the door way but looking back at his old friend Soun who was sitting at the table, his eyes hosting with a grave expression as he took a slow sip of tea. His expression was one both of question and warning to Genma. He had no idea what was wrong, but he had a feeling Genma might have culpability in this.
"Everything is fine." Genma assured all the curious observing souls, but in particular Souma's nonverbal question. He pensively gazed up the stairs to where Ranma had retreated and an iron-clad sternness settled over him.
"Ranma's completely fine" Genma said.