Disclaimer: The playground is by Rumiko Takahashi, I'm only swinging on the monkey bars. Remember to leave the grounds cleaner than you found them and please don't feed the Trolls. This story is archived at http://www.kawaiikunee.com/slp/ Release 1.2 (Nov. 25, 2000) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- [BGM : http://www.kawaiikunee.com/slp/mp3/Farewells.mp3] Begin at the beginning, continue through the end, then stop. [Images shift and flow on a darkened field. Nabiki wears a leather jacket and fedora, there is a small automatic pistol tucked into her waistband as she stares keenly into the distance. A small scar cuts across her lower jaw as she rotates before a field of emerald green, dissolving into mist that fades away ....] Everyone knows _that_. [Kasumi wears archaic full-plate armor of an alien and slightly disturbing mode. It is lacquered black with purple highlights, set off well by the deep purple background. She carries a long, curved sword in her left hand, resting its tip on the ground as she gestures with her right. In the shadows of the open-faced helm, her face is weary, and perhaps a little afraid. She turns to the side as the mist closes in and dissolves ....] That's because the beginning is where things ... begin, and the end is where things, er, end. So to speak. The beginning happens first and the end follows in due time. The past becomes the future, through the medium of the present. [Gally, of Gunmm, turns around before a blue background, dressed in an incongruous chef's outfit ....] Right? [Kodachi, dressed in an expensive business suit, leans forward at a desk, looking down with an alert, focused expression at a large scroll, covered with Chinese characters ....] I mean, it's obvious. The Arrow of Time, cause and effect ... things like that. Causality, is what I mean here. The idea that the past _causes_ the present, and the present _causes_ the future. And if you tell the part of the story where things happen before you tell the part where you explain _why_ they happen that way, people get ...confused. Everybody agrees that's the way it goes. [A short girl dressed in jeans, boots and a long leather duster stands facing directly away from the viewer. Her face cannot be seen, because it is pressed firmly into the neck of a very serious looking Ryouga, who is dressed in his normal outfit and backpack and is hugging her around the shoulders as he looks directly out of the frame ....] Sometimes, it even works out that way. [Against a white background, Akane turns to the left to face the viewer. She is wearing a white silk shirt, a black leather vest and black velvet pants. And mirror-shades. She is carrying an enormous spiked mace horizontally in her hands and her features are split in a grin that can only be described as manic. Her long black hair streams behind her as she continues turning, and the last thing that can be seen as the mist closes in are the silver butterfly hair clips halfway down the long dark mane ....] Sometimes, it doesn't. [Onna-Ranma turns to the right toward the viewer before a background that is totally black. She is wearing armor of leather and metal, without a helmet, and apparently from a number of periods and styles. It's difficult to say precisely, because many of the details are blotted out by the blood which has splashed every part and surface. As she turns she holds a long, straight sword crossways across her body, extending out to her left with both hands on the hilt. As she completes her turn and faces the viewer head on, it can be seen that blood is splashed wetly up her left cheek, but her face is serene and calm. She stands face on to the viewer for a brief moment, and then brings the sword around in a horizontal cut across the field of view, leaving a line of blood red in its path. She then brings the sword over her head into a two-handed posture, and brings it down, leaving another blood red line ....] Because that's only one way to look at it. And so often, in this world, what _is_ depends on ... well ... what you're looking at. [The color spreads out from the two lines to cover the whole field of view, then slowly begins dripping down the screen, leaving an unrelieved black behind it. As the red tide retreats, it leaves behind it one shape that retains it carmine hue: a rearing horse in silhouette ....] For instance, if you look at things in the right manner, it's obvious that the future _must_ have existed first. That is, before there was _anything_ , there had to have been the potential for things. The future, in other words. [The roan stallion shifts from rearing to a trot, chased off the black field by a swirling gust of barely visible white wind from the left. As it leaves the dark background it gains definition, now looking like a real horse as it runs through verdant fields of high grass, startling gold and black butterflies, and chased by the wind ....] Then, the first moment happened, and that was the first time that there ever was a _present_. [As the horse trots on, it passes by an immense mountain in the background. Real and present, yet seeming as though created in the style of Chinese landscape portraiture ....] And then the first moment was over. In, so to speak, the past. And the second moment was in the present ... and so on. [Zooming in on the mountain, it can be seen to be clothed in forest on its foot-hills, but bare from two-thirds up until the very top, which is barren rock ....] So the future _causes_ the present, and drags the past along behind. [Growing from the barren rock at the top of the mountain, its roots winding down the mountain's face, to disappear into forested valleys, is an enormous ash tree ....] Right? [Pulling back from the mountain, the roan horse can be seen running down a hill, towards a small stream. As he leaps across the stream, the wind blows a shroud of fog across the whole scene ....] Don't think about it too hard, it's Zen, and you'll get a headache. [As the horse canters out of the mist he passes a cherry tree, gnarled and twisted by age and winds, but in full bloom. As the horse shifts into a gallop, the view locks on the tree, allowing the horse to gallop off scene, stage right. As the wind chases the horse off stage, it passes the tree, and the view is again blotted out, not by fog, but by floating cherry blossoms ....] Sometimes, the past _pushes_. And sometimes, the future _pulls_. [Traversing away from the flying blossoms, the view pans down to a clear pool of water, dark and still. Looking down into it as the background light dims, reflections of the moon and stars can be dimly seen for a moment. Then they are obscured by falling cherry blossoms, which quickly fill the pool from edge to edge ....] But the place where we _live_ is the present. The _now_ between the past and the future, between the beginning and the end, that is all we ever really get. [Again the white-tinged wind swirls, blowing the sakura away. The viewpoint sinks into the depths, until a single bright point of light, shining from the depths of the pool as the ripples fade, is the only thing to be seen ....] Once, there was a person who wanted to be a Hero. And have Adventures, and find True Love, and Make a Difference, and other nice things like that. [The single light expands, forming a perfect circle, hanging in mid-air. A curving line snakes across the center of the circle, forming a yin-yang symbol. Where the central line intersects the edges of the circle small circular icons form. On the left Akane's face flashes briefly; on the right, Ranma's. Then they vanish and the circle glows brighter for a moment, expanding about thirty percent in size, as the central line mutates into a triangle, point upwards ....] And a Hero's job, of course, is to _act_. To make decisions and take actions in the Now. And to pay the price that the Now demands. [New icons form at the intersections of triangle and circle. From the top and clockwise these are block capital letters: a Tau, a Mu and an Alpha. These mutate into hourglasses: The first with all the sand in the top, the second with the sand half-fallen, and the third with the sand all below. These again vanish, and the circle glows and expands again, as the triangle changes into a pentagon, point again upwards ....] Is it "be careful of getting what you wish for", or "be careful of wishing for what you get"? [New icons form, as before: the Chinese ideographs chun(2), huo(1), chen(2), shui(2), and jin(1); followed by the kanji for kokuuzou, hi, chi, mizu and kaze; followed by the Western astrological symbols for the Moon, Mars, Jupiter, Mercury and Venus. These hold a moment and vanish, as the circle glows and expands again, and the pentagon becomes an octagon, again on its points ....] But when your past pushes, and your future pulls, sometimes your present can become a bit ... complex. [This time the icons are: the Western symbols for the planets except for Pluto, in order, with the Moon taking Earth's place. Followed by the faces of the Senshi, again except for Pluto. Followed by more faces: Ranma, Akane, Ukyou, Shampoo, Kasumi, Nabiki, Kodachi, and Sayuri. Followed by more faces yet: Gally, OVA Ifurita, Iczer 2, Iczer 1, Ryouko, Belldandi, Urd and Skuld ....] And thereby hangs a tale. [The faces halt for a moment in time, as all the previous final symbols and lines glow for a brief moment. Then they change one final time, into Chinese ideographs. The other lines and figures vanish, leaving only the ideographs glowing against the blackness, slowly moving across the scene to fall into place in a single line. From left to right: chi(4), ma(3), bai(2), feng(1), tian(1), shan(1), sheng(4) and shu(4). These are then replaced by a Romanji title, like so: Chima Baifeng Tianshan Chun The viewpoint pulls back, and it can be seen that this is a reflection in the pool previously seen. The whitish wind swirls again, driving more Sakura petals to cover the pool and obscure the glowing writing. The petals drift for a moment and then the wind swirls again, shifting their arrangement and bringing new petals of a deeper, more reddish hue. These land so as to form new Romanji by their shapes. These letters say: Book One The wind swirls again, again rearranging the fallen petals. Now they read: Ranma and Akane: A Love Story The wind swirls one last time, blowing away the petals, and leaving the pool serene and still, and entirely dark.] [Fade to black. End BGM.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- *Shnnnck*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*. Rain. Postcard. Kitchen. Bed. Dojo. Bricks. "FIANCE'?!" Girl. Panda. Fight. CLONG! GROWF! Knock. Ranma. Seen it before, yes? In your sleep, behind your back, with your eyes closed, in the rain, right? *Shnnnck*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*. This story doesn't start like that. *Shnnnck*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*. _This_ story starts in darkness, late on a warm summer night without an artificial light for miles. _This_ story starts in a forest clearing lit by several billion stars and the thin sliver of a gibbous moon. *Shnnnck*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*. _This_ story starts with a male figure stripped to the waist, using a bamboo handled shovel to (*Shnnnck*) loosen and turn earth that will be (*ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*) removed and tossed to the side. *Shnnnck*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*. Figure about a half cubic foot of earth loosened and dug up per sequence. *Shnnnck*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*. Figure a hole six feet long, by three feet wide, by five feet deep. *Shnnnck*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*. Times eight. *Shnnnck*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*. For those who have not been following along on their abaci, that's 1440 *shnnnck*s and 4320 *ssshhpt*s. *Shnnnck*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*. In just less than eight hours. Including wrapping the bodies, and filling in the graves. *Shnnnck*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*. For what were, self-admittedly, bandits and highwaymen. Desperate criminals who, caught by the authorities, would assuredly have been hung, and the bodies left to rot. *Shnnnck*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*. For men who, knowing this, and knowing the digger for a ronin, and hence both dangerous and broke, had nonetheless attempted to rob him. For men without honor or martial skill, who had fallen like weeds before the scythe. For outlaws who, had they somehow triumphed, would have spent not an iota of such effort for the traveler. *Shnnnck*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*. Because honor and respect are paid _by_ the digger, and not _to_ the dug for? Because even scum and bandits are human, and are owed some kind of marker? *Shnnnck*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*. Because the duty owed by a slayer to his own soul demands a remembrance of the slain, lest they die twice? Or simply because it was necessary that the service be performed and no one else is around to do it? *Shnnnck*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*, *ssshhpt*. The digger jumps out of the last grave, places the final body in its final resting place and says a final abbreviated prayer. Filling the grave takes little time, building the cairn of stones to mark the burial takes a little longer, preparing to move again longer still. And then the figure pauses, and looks down the road by the forest clearing, and looks behind at the road already traveled, and looks up to a sky just beginning to lighten in the east, and becomes briefly still. It had been less than three days between incidents. Both faces were becoming targets of local toughs and fast swords. He had been forced to kill more than 45 times in the past month. Or had he? His skill was great after all. He was fast and strong and capable of techniques that your average thug, or even ronin, wouldn't dare dream of attempting. Had it simply become easier to kill than not to? And what did that say of *his* soul, in the end? Perhaps it was time to try somewhere else? After all there _was_ less than a year to go. It really was time to get back where he belonged. Time to go somewhere you could defeat someone _without_ killing them. Time to go back to what was, theoretically, home. And the traveler reached into his shirt, and pulled out an amulet of silver, and clay, and glass, and raised it high. And the rising sun shone down on a clearing in a forest by a road, on which was now to be seen no traveler, nor footprints, nor anything else at all. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- And this is a bar in China where a man is sitting by himself in a corner, getting stinking drunk. 'Oh Buddha, I'm doomed. How did I let this happen? Nodoka's going to _kill_ me. Where _did_ that ungrateful boy get to? Why did I have to try that _stupid_ training technique? Susano-o protect me, Nodoka's going to _kill_ me. Who knows what silliness he'll have picked up without me? I'll never have enough time to train him out of his bad habits now! Compassionate Amida, Nodoka's going to _kill_ me.' 'Now now, Genma, get a hold of yourself; you trained him for seven years and he's surely a man-among-men, and hardship toughens you up, and he's certainly alive even if you can't find hide nor hair of him, and he promised on his honor, and he never breaks a promise, and you'll get to Jhusenkyou first and get a good look at the ground so you'll have an advantage in the fight, and he won't be as good as you anyway cause he didn't have you to keep an eye on him, and you'll have _weeks_ to fix his bad habits, and... Oh Ameratasu aid me, Nodoka's going to _kill_ me.' ----------------------------------------------------------------------- And this is Fukuoka, a port city on Kyushu where a person who is apparently a somewhat bishonen lad packing a _huge_ spatula is bargaining for a boat ride to China. She'd tracked Genma to China at last and this time her family's honor _would_ be cleared, one way or another. And this is a small village in Qing-Hai where the local champion is preparing to defend her title. And wondering where a warrior husband strong enough for her to marry was going to come from anyway. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- And this is a bedroom in a dojo in a suburb of Tokyo, where a certain girl is preparing for bed; after all, there's school in the morning. School. And boys. Yay. She'd tried, she really had. She'd tried to find one she could stand to date. She'd tried to get the usual pack of fools to _stop_ their foolishness, peacefully and otherwise. It just hadn't worked. 'Every school day, _every_ school day. For more than a year. I'm a Junior now, I'm supposed to be past hazing aren't I? They're supposed to be at least a little mature aren't they? Or at least tired of getting beaten up all the time?' Every day, for more than a year. And she hadn't lost, and she hadn't given up... but neither had they. And she was tired, so tired. And Tendo Akane went to bed, hoping for something to break her out of a losing rut. And went to sleep, although she didn't want to. After all, there was school in the morning. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- And this is a small apartment, likewise in Nerima. And in it a man last seen in a forest clearing is performing a slow kata. A very old kata, were anyone else in Japan today capable of recognizing it. A kata not of attack, or evasion, or defense ... but rather of remembrance. Of a Bargain that was made, and a Prize that could be gained, and a Price that must be paid. A very old bargain, that has something to do with Iron. And he too is hoping, and waiting for the morning. He hadn't had to kill anyone yet, but in every other way the last several months had been a disaster. Oh well, perhaps he simply wasn't _meant_ for romance? After all, father had probably provided for a marriage long ago, and while he didn't like it, he had accepted it for the sake of family honor. Actually falling in love with someone was probably tempting fate. Which brought up an issue, actually; what face was he going to wear? Flip a coin? Tails. Female. So be it. 'Now get to bed Ranma, you've got school in the morning.' ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Shadow Lurker Productions Is very proud to present An Eric Hallstrom Production Of a Takahashi Rumiko Film Chima Baifeng Tianshan Chun Book I Ranma and Akane, A Love Story ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Next: Chapter 1: The first day Part A: Arrival; Here's Ranma. 'Til next chapter, Eric Hallstrom, 01/16/2001