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. Warning: This part is [Dark] and may very well be [Squicky] as well. Depending on how you look at it, it may also deserve a [Lemon] or [Lime] tag, too, not to mention [WAFF]. You Have Been Warned. By popular demand, the majority of this episode should be read to Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi from Carl Orff's Carmina Burana. You can find a MP3 at the site below. Don't put it on yet. I'll indicate when. This story is archived at http://www.kawaiikunee.com/slp/ Release 1.2 (Nov. 25, 2000) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Ranma and Akane: A Love Story Chapter 5: Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi Part A: Hateful Life ----------------------------------------------------------------------- 1. O Fortuna 1. O Fortune Verse 1 O Fortuna, O Fortune, velut Luna like the moon statu variabilis, you are changeable, semper crescis ever waxing aut decrescis; and waning; vita detestabilis hateful life nunc obdurat first oppresses et tunc curat and then soothes ludo mentis aciem, as fancy takes it; egestatem potestatem poverty and power dissolvit ut glaciem. it melts them like ice. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- A demon was raping her. For the ... time. Again. What did it matter how many times. Just again. Only some of the demons who held her captive had shown an interest, but those who had seemed to find it their preferred mode of torment. They had taken away the control of her body, but they had left her the pain. This one, for instance, was making her moan and writhe, as though she was secretly enjoying the abuse. Others had made her plead, or scream, or just cringe. They had stuck hooks through her wrists, and lashed her with barbed chains. They had cut her flesh with knives and branded her with irons. They had shoved a sharpened steel pole through her anus and out her mouth and roasted her alive over a flame. They had bound her spirit into her dead body and carved it for their meat, and she had felt the pain of every bite and they had told her that it was pleasure, that she was delicious, that it was an honor to serve. They had bound hot stones into her knees and elbows and healed the wounds they made. They had slain her with steel and with fire and raised her again to life. They had shown her others in torment. They had laid out before her all the kingdoms of the world and shown her that they ruled them all. They had shown her her parents and friends writhing in the flames, begging her to save them. They had said that they were mighty. They had said that they were kings. They had demanded that she yield her soul to their mastery. They had made her body agree, but they had made a mistake. Her body had agreed, had pled, had begged. But she had not. They had lied to her body, but her soul was not fooled. And if they had lied in one thing, then they lied in _every_ thing. And so she remained. They could torment her, they could mock her, but one thing they could not touch. Whatever else they told her, whatever they showed, whatever they made her body feel or do, one thing she knew beyond all doubt. _They lied._ And eventually they must give her a chance. Eventually their vigilance must slip. Eventually she would get her hands upon a knife. Or a flame, or a rock, or a chain, or a hook, or a spoon (They had scooped out her eyes with one, once. Or was it many times? And did it matter?). Eventually. And then she would see if they could lie to themselves as well as they had lied to her. She suspected that they could not, but she would see, regardless. She had nothing else to live for, and nothing at all to lose. And in the end, what could they do? Punish her? Send her, perhaps, to Hell? And that was why, as the demon thrust into her, as it's malformed member tore and ripped and lubricated itself with blood, as her body was commanded to gasp and moan in ecstasy, as it plead to be abused further, as it proclaimed itself a slave, a slut, a whore ... Asano Sayuri was smiling with her eyes. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Verse 2 Sors immanis Fate - monstrous et inanis, and empty, rota tu volubilis, you whirling wheel, status malus, you are malevolent, vana salus well-being is in vain, semper dissolubilis, and always fades to nothing, obumbrata et velata shadowed and veiled michi quoque niteris; you plague me too; nunc per ludum now through the game dorsum nudum I bring my bare back fero tui sceleris. to your villainy. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- On Monday, she worried. It was inconceivable that she could be ... she wasn't ... she was just friends ... right? She wasn't ... Kasumi would be ... she would just frown sadly, and ... and Daddy, he'd ... and Ranchan ... Ranchan had all those boyfriends ... she'd had sex before, she said ... Ranchan'd hate her ... it'd be horrible. And besides, she'd never thought about girls _that_ way before. That was on Monday. On Tuesday the gym class did swimming. She didn't swim well, of course, but she stood on the side and watched. And Ranma, of course _did_ go swimming. In a one-piece. That was quite sufficient, especially with it being wet. She nearly buckled at the knees. Had she _really_ thought that Ranma was 'not uncomely' just two days before? Ranma, she discovered, possessed a sharp-edged, visceral attractiveness that grabbed you by the throat and _squeezed_. And besides that, she was _damned_ sexy. She wanted to ... was _this_ what the boys had felt? She'd always thought that they were just ... unthinking, but if this was what it was like .... On Wednesday, she agonized. What should she do? A relationship with Ranma was impossible, of course. Even if Ranma was ... that way, she could not be seen to be in love with another girl. Her reputation would never stand it. Neither would her own reputation, of course, but that was a secondary issue. It was Ranma who was important. She would simply have to go on, that was all. Deny everything, herself most of all. It would be a test of discipline, but there was no other option. Nor could she simply break off relations. It would raise questions. Investigations would be launched; her secret would come out. That would be just as bad, but worse yet, _what reason could she give_? Could she lie to Ranma? Tell her that she would no longer be her friend? No. That would add hypocrisy and dishonor to all her other sins. No. She would simply have to hide what she felt. Conceal her attraction. Ranma must never know; _no one_ must ever know. Above all other things this: her current 'attraction' was bad enough. Whatever else she did, she _must not_ fall in love. But one thing she could do: she could fight beside her, aid her, be her friend in all things. It wasn't anything nearly enough, but it was all she had, so it would have to do. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Verse 3 Sors salutis Fate is against me et virtutis in health michi nunc contraria and virtue, est affectus driven on et defectus and weighted down, semper in angaria. always enslaved. Hac in hora So at this hour sine mora without delay cordum pulsum tangite; pluck the vibrating strings; quod per sortem since Fate sternit fortem, strikes down the strong man, mecum omnes plangite! everyone weep with me! ----------------------------------------------------------------------- A demon was torturing her ... no, wait; it was only her physical therapist. Sometimes Kuno Kodachi found it difficult to tell the difference. Still, she persevered. She _would_ return to form. She would escape the hell of this hospital for the clean air. Her brother would help, and Ranma-sensei would too; but they could only _help_. She would have to _do_. It worried her slightly that the doctors told her that cosmetic surgery would have to wait. Her body was still insufficiently healed to safely subject to the stresses of further injury. It worried her more that it worried her so little. She had always been so proud of her looks; what would she look like now? She had not yet gathered the courage to look in a mirror to see. At least Ranma-san had combined with Tofu-sensei to alleviate the pain of the burns. A procedure that combined some of the features of acupuncture and moxibustion, she thought, it had proven most effective. Still, that did not reduce the time she must spend in this pestilential "therapy". She preformed the exercise again and ignored the pain. She was getting out. She was going home. And what would be, would be. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- 1. Fortune plango vulnera 2. I bemoan the wounds of Fortune Verse 1 Fortune plango vulnera I bemoan the wounds of Fortune stillantibus ocellis, with weeping eyes, quod sua michi munera for the gifts she made me subtrahit rebellis. she perversely takes away. Verum est, quod legitur, It is written in truth, fronte capillata, that she has a fine head of hair, sed plerumque but, when it comes to sequitur seizing an opportunity, occasio calvata. she is bald. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- On Monday, he fretted. Sayuri-chan's condition was declining, Akane was insufficiently trained to support him in an intervention, and he was afraid he was beginning to do something he had specifically forbidden himself from doing. Or rather, _she_ was beginning to do something _she_ had ... and that was the problem, of course. On Tuesday, he agonized. The gym class had done swim practice that day; and while Akane had not, for some reason, actually gotten in the pool, she _had_ put on a swimsuit. That was enough. He was rarely, if ever aroused by a person's looks, now. An artifact, he supposed, of what Minnie-May had called his "versatility"; he tended not to scan people as potential partners unless he had already unconsciously decided in their favor. So his sudden arousal meant only one thing; he was in _deep_ trouble. On Wednesday, he worried. He had already resigned himself to nothing more than friendship, but he suspected that it would be even more difficult to stay within that category than he had previously suspected. Just as long as it wasn't love he was probably safe. Friendship, even close friendship, he had no fear of. Comradeship he could handle. She could be as attractive as she liked without overloading his control. Love would be a problem. Well, he would simply have to see to it that it did not go that far. He had worse problems. Sayuri's condition had not improved. No medical technique had palliated her decline. Neither rituals of healing nor exorcisms had made a difference. He would have to intervene personally. But he had a feeling about this one; this one was going to be bad. Akane was not trained well enough to help; taking her along would be far too dangerous, to her most of all. But a bad intervention might well lead to his own death. He feared that Akane was trained too well to escape extra-natural attention should he fall, but not trained well enough to defeat it. Nor could Sayuri wait for her further training; if he were to aid her at all it must be now. That night he prepared for battle, oiling and maintaining all his weapons, storing power against future need. Then, after all was in readiness, he wrote a letter. Rally Vincent Gunsmith Cats Chicago, USA Dear Rally, As you can see, the rolling stone has decided to gather a little moss for a time. I am presently living in Nerima Ward, and have taken an apartment .... The reason I'm writing you is that I seem to have gotten myself into a 'situation' again .... An old enemy, you wouldn't know him .... So I feel that I have to go see where Sayuri-san is being restrained.... The problem is, I have also taken a student. Her name is Tendo Akane, and she's going to be one of the great ones if she lives. But she needs more training, and I might not be able to do it myself. So, what I'm asking is, if I don't send you a message in a week or so and tell you I'm fine, I'd like for you to inform the appropriate people about her .... Not that I'm planning on dying or anything, but .... Tell Minnie-May I do _not_! Love, Ranma. (p.s. Note that I'm using the feminine here, and tell the barbarian ekrixiphiliac to use the appropriate gender! BR) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Verse 2 In fortune solio On Fortune's throne sederam elatus, I used to sit raised up, prosperitatis vario crowned with prosperity's flore coronatus; many-colored flowers; quicquid enim florui though I may have flourished felix et beatus, happy and blessed, nunc a summo corrui now I fall from the peak gloria privatus. deprived of glory. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- A demon was raping her. Again. She did not know how long she had been under their torment. Any estimate she might have made would have been rendered unreliable by the penchant her captors had evinced for lying to her senses. How could she construct a reliable estimate of the time when a moment might seem like an year, or a year like a moment? It was sufficient for her to note that the demons had seemed to be growing increasingly worried. They had not yet been sufficiently careless as to allow her an opportunity to escape her bonds yet. But they would, in time. And she _had_ time. All the time in the world. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Verse 3 Fortune rota volvitur: The wheel of Fortune turns: descendo minoratus; I go down, demeaned; alter in altum tollitur; another is raised up; nimis exaltatus far too high up rex sedet in vertice - sits the king at the summit - caveat ruinam! let him fear ruin! nam sub axe legimus for under the axis is written Hecubam reginam. Queen Hecuba. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- You can turn 'O Fortuna' on now. It's probably best to put it on repeat. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Next: Ranma and Akane: A Love Story Chapter 5: Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi Part B: Driven On and Weighted Down 'Til Then, Eric Hallstrom 01/16/2001