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 1.1 (Dec. 07, 2000)

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Ranma and Akane: A Love Story
Chapter 6: Immediate Consequences
Part C: When I Was A Fighting Man, The Kettle-Drums They Beat

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The trouble with being a hero, Akane decided, is that the effort
required to be one tends to distract you from whatever else you're
doing, but you still have to do it anyway. Or, at least, you still have
to do it if 'it' is schoolwork.

Also, teachers are remarkably resistant towards accepting 'I spent most
of yesterday in Hell. I didn't have _time_ to do homework.' as an
excuse. (What was _truly_ irritating was that Ranma _had_ done her
homework.)
 
After your whole school has cheered you as a hero, being sent into the
hall for the buckets can be a terrible letdown. 

But, somehow, it wasn't. She considered her feelings as she stood in
the hall, and tried to pin down just _why_ it wasn't.

Mostly, she decided, because it really didn't matter. The school knew.
She knew. Ranma knew. Probably even the teachers knew. It was more a
matter of the routine maintenance of order than anything really
serious. It wasn't like the 'shame' was going to blight her record.
 
Really, she suddenly realized, it wasn't as if her school record had
any _real_ meaning. Even if she didn't stay with Ranchan after her
high-school days were behind her (she knew she couldn't, and the
thought was more painful than any other she'd ever had), her life had
taken an irrevocable turn for the weird and the adventurous. 

It would not be possible for her to live a normal life as a normal
Japanese girl. Had it ever _been_ possible? Well, she wasn't sure, any
more than she was sure just what it _was_ possible for her to be. 

She supposed she'd find out.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was weird.

This girl. Sayuri. She'd just ... wandered in and started talking.

Weird.

Hadn't even wanted anything from her, hadn't wanted information. Just
kept her company. Sympathized with her.

Wasn't related to her, didn't owe her anything. Didn't even go to the
same school. She'd even had to ask her _name_. Hadn't connected her to
her brother until Kodachi herself had mentioned it. Sayuri had been
surprised. 

So, if she didn't want to be seen with Kodachi for social purposes (in
a hospital?), and didn't want access to her brother, what _did_ she
want?

Kodachi was forced to conclude that she wanted to be friends.

Strange. Very, very strange.

Kodachi had never had .... Well, _of course_ she'd had friends. She'd
had lots of them. But she'd never had ....

She'd never had a friend who was just ... a friend.

She was even ... protective. _Actually_ protective. She'd gotten _very_
mad that no-one from St. Herebreke had stopped by, or even sent a card. 

She had ... she had ... she'd shared her views on school with Kodachi.
Just talking. She'd _gossiped_. Just like they were two schoolgirls.
Just like Kodachi was a normal girl.

_No-one_ had _ever_ treated Kodachi like she was a normal girl. Ever.

Well, there was no reason for them to. She was _Kuno Kodachi_. She was
_rich_. She was special. 

Wasn't she?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Sayuri felt that Kodachi must be very brave. She had stood up to a
dreadful monster (_she_ knew) and she wasn't even depressed about the
scar on her face or anything.

Mind, Sayuri also felt that the scar actually looked good. For a scar,
that is. Sort of piratical. But Kodachi was going to have an operation
to have it removed, soon. Which was good, because a girl really
shouldn't have scars for very long because people could react badly.

What Sayuri was actually concerned with, of course, was Kodachi's
potential ability to attract a boyfriend. She would have recommended
someone, but she didn't know any decent ones herself. It was, she felt,
already sufficiently difficult to find a good prospect without having
to worry about turning them off because of a scar.

Sayuri had awoken with memories. She wasn't entirely sure about the
veracity of _all_ of them. But she remembered enough. Ranma- and Akane-
sempai had come to get her. They had rescued her in some way or anoth-
er. She would have to ask Ranma-sempai about exactly what had gone on.

     Central to the traditional moral character of Japanese society are
     four interlinked concepts: On, Gimu, Giri and Ninjo. While
     translations are, by nature, inexact, a Westerner would probably
     translate them as Reciprocity, Piety, Duty and Compassion. 

     Reciprocity requires acknowledgment and repayment of debt,
     including honor debt. Piety exhorts the debtor to allegiance to
     the debt-holder's cause, in ongoing repayment of debts otherwise
     too great to fully repay. Duty invokes the balancing of
     obligations as the highest function of an honorable life.
     Compassion requires empathy with others, and recognizes that all
     people are one, beneath the surface differences that karma
     imposes.

Ranma-sempai and Akane-sempai had stormed Hell itself to rescue her,
for compassion's sake. Sayuri wasn't sure that the debt could be
repaid, but she was determined to try. Showing compassion herself
seemed to be a good way to start.

Besides, she truly did like the other girl. And there was no doubt in
her mind that Kodachi _needed_ a little compassion, needed it badly. It
was in the eyes, a certain mix of defensiveness and loneliness. She had
seen it before.

Once Yuka had had that look, when she was new to Junior High. She had
offended the dignity of one of the fashionable cliques, and had been
nearly shunned for her trouble. Akane had noticed it and had dragged
Sayuri into a friendship that had never since faltered. Then later
Akane herself had begun to grow that look, and Sayuri had not at all
known what to do about it.

Greater than all other terrors is helplessness. Three times in her life
Sayuri had felt that great terror, once in retrospect and twice dir-
ectly. Once she had been saved by Akane, once by Ranma, once by both. 

But in the course of that last rescue, running up a long slope, she had
discovered that she need no longer be helpless. She had found a source
of power in the bone-handled hilts of a pair of long knives. (Or
perhaps she had discovered the power earlier, beneath the knife and the
iron. But she did not send her mind back to that place of lies to see.)

She had left the knives behind, imbedded in sulfurous dust and ichor-
stained flesh. And yet, in some way, she still seemed to feel them
within her hand, warm and sure-gripped, almost alive in their response
to her arm and will. 

Knives can be used for many things. 

Sayuri was a good cook, and experienced with knives. 

It came to her, looking at the darkness in Kodachi's dark eyes, that
no-one who has a knife is truly helpless. It came to her that there are
many kinds of knives. The lurking darkness was a bitter enemy, but it
was an enemy that she had faced before, and it seemed to her that she
might just have a knife fit to cut it.

Sayuri chatted on, using gossip and patter, talk of the latest shows
and magazines, what idol singer was hot, what idol singer was cold, and
how long they each would stay that way. What Kodachi did at home, what
Sayuri did at home. Recipes and music and video-games and sweets and
boys.

Within fifteen minutes she had giggles. Within an hour they were
chatting away as if they had known each other all their lives. Just as
if they were at a sleep-over. Just as if they were talking after
school. Just as if they were passing notes in class. Just a normal
conversation, between two normal teen-age girls, who happen to be best
friends.

Normality and friendship, to cut the dark away. Strange knives to make
strange cuts, Sayuri thought. But you had to take your knives where you
found them sometimes. After all, strange or not, a knife was a knife.
And Sayuri was good with knives.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

By lunchtime, she had a pile of notes that almost covered her desk.
Fortunately, the teacher was understanding. Unfortunately, there was no
way she could possibly reply to most of them. She didn't even dare read
them, in case one of them asked something she couldn't afford to react
to.

Fame and triumph could be quite wearing.

As could other things as well, of course.

There was, in one corner of Furinkan yard, a tree. This had a low
lying, broad, flat limb perhaps four or five feet off the ground.
Underneath the limb there was a sheltered spot of shade. This area had
been annexed by Ranma soon after she arrived at Furinkan, and was
already locally known by the students thereof as Ranma's Branch and
Akane's Spot.

Ranma would stretch out on the limb and idle, while Akane sat under-
neath her in the shade and dozed or ate, frequently listening to Ranma
play the flute or lecture on some arcane bit of cultural trivia or
other. Under normal circumstances Ranma considered lunch a thing which
should not be trivially disturbed. 

Today, however, was not a normal circumstance.

For some reason best known to herself, Ranma had decreed a period of
weapons drill. This involved several annoyances, from Akane's point of
view. First, it meant that she had to cram down a great deal of food in
a great hurry, which she considered distasteful. Second, it required
her to bounce around like a superball even to avoid embarrassing
herself against Ranma's skill.

Third, it meant that she had to exercise even greater control over her
movements than would normally be the case in a sparring match, lest she
injure another student. Fourth, even despite this control, it was
positively amazing how little protection a sword blade, a cupped hand-
guard and a blade-breaker hilt could be against a fan.

Lastly, Ranma regarded sparring time as an excellent forum for devel-
oping her cultural literacy, her store of trivia and her aptitude for
quotation. Generally, by quoting extensively and extempore from the
_Tale of Genji_ or _The Dream of the Red Chamber_. Translating the
latter in midstream, of course, because Akane was quite incapable of
speaking Chinese. Worse, Ranma meant to develop her ability to quote
passages back, and was unerring in her ability to remember what Akane
was already supposed to have heard (and, therefor (naturally), know by
heart.)

Altogether, it was enough to drive a respectable Tendo to tears. Or
something. And she had discovered that she _despised_ the _Dream of the
Red Chamber_. (Partly because getting passages thrown at you between
the hand-strokes is _not_ the way to develop an appreciation for
literary  complexities or for the subtleties of the prophetic heroic
form as Ranma interpreted it. And partly because, in her humble
opinion, _The Dream Of the Red Chamber_ _sucked rocks_.)

All in all, she would much have preferred if nothing _else_ had managed
to come up. Unfortunately, Ranma's attitude of sunny certainty that no
additional straw that might be piled atop her would _actually_ be the
one straw too many seemed to be rubbing off on some of the other people
around her.

Such, for instance, as Nabiki.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

            |Step forward. Feint. Three arc. Four-corner.|
Spin. Sidestep-leap. Block low-to-high-to-cross-guard. Leap.

"Umm. Ranma-san?" Uncertainty was uncharacteristic for Nabiki, but she
didn't normally try to talk business with someone who was busy using a
fan to chase someone who was using a sword around Furinkan yard. "Can I
talk to you two about something?" At least Ranma wasn't moving very
fast.

              |Casual feint. Side-swipe. Jodan. Chudan.|
Land blocking. Slide back. Disengage. Block low-to-high.

"Sure, Nabiki-san. What's on your mind?" Ranma moved Akane sideways, so
that she wouldn't crowd Nabiki. "Acchan, if you don't attack you're
going to lose, you know."

          |Slide-strike. Reverse kick. Three-strike. Jodan.|
Parry. Riposte-to-stop block. Disengage, under cover. Duck.

"What's up, Oneechan?" Akane chirped brightly, "And Ranchan, you know
I'm gonna lose anyway. If I keep on the defensive, you might make a
mistake."

         |V-step. Sweep-to-Gedan. Slap parry-and-bind. Flip.|
Sweep kick-to-tumble dodge. Jump. Jodan cross. 'ohshit' WHAM

"Waiting for your opponent to make a mistake is very passive, Acchan."
Ranma chided, gently, "You should be _causing_ mistakes, because a
skilled opponent won't make any otherwise." As Akane spun through the
air, Ranma raised an eyebrow, "See?"
 
Akane had managed to rotate upright as she flew, but had not managed to
get her legs in line with the wall. A puff of dust rose from the
impact, and she stayed flattened against the wall about five feet off
the ground for a moment before slowly sliding down. Nabiki winced, a
reaction shared by many of the watching students.

Her eyes wide and unfocussed, Akane shook her head as she reached the
ground. "Theoretically, anyway," she mumbled, "Where'd that wall come
from, anyway?"

Ranma's lip curved upward in a gentle smile. "It's been there for
twenty years or so, I think. They don't usually move."

"Funny." Akane pushed herself to her feet, sheathing her sword. "I'm
going to put the sword up and start using a stick. It'd be faster." 

Ranma smiled slightly, before turning back to Nabiki.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

And then there had been the weird thing that Nabiki had wanted to ask.
Akane would never in her wildest dreams have expected Nabiki to declare
that she and Ranma were as good as idol singers, nor have expected that
Nabiki would offer to have a demo made.

She probably _should_ have expected it, but she hadn't. She _had_
expected Ranma's reaction. She even agreed with it, although she was a
_little_ sorry that she wouldn't get to hear their songs on the radio.
But being an idol singer would cut _much_ too far into training time,
and other things.

And besides, if being famous just in Furinkan was this ... embarrass-
ing, what might being famous on the street be like?

When you thought about it, fame was something of an impediment to a
Martial Artist, really. She should do her best to avoid it. 

In the future. 

You bet.

Still. It _was_ a shame.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

'Thirty spokes meet at a nave,' Kodachi thought, sadly, 'Because of the
hole we may use the wheel.' Sayuri was dancing around the edges of
something.
 
It showed up in the pauses. Like many things, really. A matter of
things not said, of topics not raised.

She was good at it, and good at detecting it. All she had to do now was
steer the conversation a little and she would find out what it was.
Sayuri was _not_ good at it.

She didn't want to.

It would be ... she had ... Sayuri ...

It had been _so_ much fun, thinking that Sayuri wanted just to be her
friend. She really didn't want to find out what Sayuri's ulterior
motives were. She really didn't. But, she had to.

She set about doing so. Slowly, gently. Piece by piece. The spokes
define the wheel, but the part you use is at the center, and around the
edge. If you look at the shape of the wall, you can, if you're good,
tell what lies _behind_ the wall.

Piece by piece, the picture grew, but the picture made no sense. It was
....

It was almost as though _she_ didn't matter at all, but then in the
next instant it was as though she _did_ matter, but not because of who
she was, but just because ....

It made no sense. If Sayuri wanted Kodachi to do something _for_ her,
she should be interested in what Kodachi _was_; what her contacts were,
who she knew, which circles she moved in. And she wasn't, didn't care
at all. On that point, if on no other, Kodachi was willing to swear.

Oh, Sayuri would _talk_ about them, but she was more interested in how
Kodachi felt, in what _she_ thought of them. She didn't seem to have
any idea of how they could be used, or even that they _could_ be used.
She seemed, honestly, to feel as though they were part of a world in
which she would never move, or even wished to.

Now, if Sayuri wanted Kodachi to enhance her standing in her own social
circles, she should be interested in either getting Kodachi to visit
that circle or in getting to visit _Kodachi's_. And she wasn't,
especially. 

Kodachi thought that it was _vaguely_ possible that she could be wrong,
... there was this 'mall hanging' thing that Sayuri had mentioned, and
she was positively _enthusiastic_ about a 'slumber party' ... she
_thought_ she knew what those were, but ... it seemed to _her_ that
someone ... well it was the same problem as before. Sayuri should be
looking for details, names to drop, commitments, something of that
sort.

But, she just wasn't.

The _other_ odd thing was the apprehension. It was fairly well buried,
but there was definitely a thread of ... well, not _fear_ exactly, but
something like it. But it wasn't directed at her. 

It seemed almost as though Sayuri was _worried_. Worried about Kodachi
and worried about herself, at the same time. And Kodachi was willing to
say that the worries had the same _cause_, too.

Now. What could ....

Hmmm.

Well, what had Ranma-sensei said that Sayuri was in the hospital for,
anyway? She was sure that she had heard ....

Oh, yes! Sayuri had been ... unconscious ... because ....

Sayuri, she suddenly remembered, had been unconscious, almost in a
coma, because of something that had happened to her during the attack
by that _creature_. She might have also been attacked. Ranma-sensei,
she remembered, had seemed almost worried.

Not good. No telling what .... 

She didn't look _physically_ damaged, but ....

Oh, dear.

Well. She would simply have to find out. If ... something ... _had_
happened, then ....

Well, then _she_, Kuno Kodachi, still the Black Rose, would have _two_
grievances. Very severe ones.

_And_, she, Kodachi, would also have a friend, or, at least, a compan-
ion in suffering, who she would be responsible for.

Sayuri seemed to think that _she_ could, and should, protect _Kodachi_.
From the terrible threat of being lonely, if from nothing else. Who
knew? Perhaps she was right.

Slowly, again, and carefully, Kodachi began to move the conversation to
her will. But not, this time, to steer a wheel.

This task would require strength, as much as guile. It was obvious that
Sayuri would not willingly speak of her troubles; and yet, she was also
carrying some great weight. If she was given reason to place the
burden, or part of it, on another's shoulders, would she not do so?

Kodachi was quite sure that she could carry at least as large a load as
Sayuri did. Whatever she was carrying, Kodachi could bear it.

Slowly. Cautiously. Carefully. Making words into clay. Moulding clay
into a cup. Piece by piece, turn by turn, layer by layer. Not to build
a wall, not to weave a net, but merely to shape a space, that Sayuri
must eventually fill.

The Clay is merely the vessel; it is the hollow that makes the cup.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Music was being ... interesting.

Maeda-sensei (Music) had been approached by Hachisuka-sensei (English).
The result of which was ....

"Okaaay." Yuka held her head. "Ranma-sempai's going to help us learn
better English by _Karaoke_?!"

Ranma chuckled. "Not _quite_, Yuka-kun. I'm going to teach you to
_sing_ better English. It should help your accents and word choice."

"Do you even _know_ any popular English songs, Ranchan?" Akane queried.

"Oi!" Ranma snapped, frostily. "_Certainly_ I do! I'm just trying to
figure out which ones they are!"

"Ah." Akane met Ranma's glance with an expression of pure, wide eyed
innocence.

Ranma red-eyed her. "Biiiiidah!"

"Now," Ranma turned back to her notes, "Ah-hah! Found it. This one was
on the radio when I was in Chicago. I think it was some movie tune or
other. Anyway. Page ... ah ... page 32. See it?"

Various rustlings ensued as people flipped papers and stared at them.

"Okay," Ranma bent forward, sitting on a chair with her guitar in her
lap, "the chords go like this, and the first verse is ...

     Sometimes the snow comes down in June
     Sometimes the sun goes round the moon
     I see the passion in your eyes
     Sometimes it's all a big surprise

The author will be kind, and spare his readers any attempt at
describing the cacophony which followed.

Ranma winced. Hard. "Ahhhh. Lets ... lets take it one line at a time,
okay?"

     Sometimes the snow comes down in June

"No, Yuka-kun; 'snow' not 'srow'....

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It took ages. Long before it ended, Kodachi knew that she had been
wrong. She wasn't strong enough. No human was strong enough. Except,
just possibly, Sayuri.

She had crafted herself a cup, she thought numbly, and now it had
overflowed. She had no-one to blame but herself.

Towards the beginning, she had moved herself, and her injured leg, next
to Sayuri, seeking to offer comfort. That was towards the beginning.

But it was not long before she realized that she was desperately trying
to build a defense. A wall of dispassion and distance. Between herself
and the quiet voice, quietly reciting horrors. As though they were
distant and unimportant. As though she did not know (but she _did_
know) that the horror the voice was laying out was horror that the
voice itself had felt, had tasted, had been. As though the voice had
not been part of the horror. 

But it had. She _knew_ it had. And _because_ it had, she was part of
the horror, too.

Long before the story ended, Kodachi was huddled next to Sayuri.
_Seeking_ comfort. 

Sayuri seemed pleased to offer it.

Seeking a wall, against the terror of the world. Finding a rock, to
anchor the wall to. Building bricks from words, rapidly, hastily. 

Where there are no walls to offer shelter, a wall may yet be built. One
wall may offer but little shelter, yet where you may build one wall,
you may build another. 

And then another yet.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

She hadn't meant to speak of it. She had told Kodachi too much. Much
too much. The girl was in the _hospital_, darn it, with her leg all
bunged up. What had she been thinking?

She pulled herself together with great force. Someone needed her help.
_Kodachi_ needed her help. You could cling to that. It was a rock and a
pillar, being needed, if you let it be one.

You could use it, too. You could hold on and let it bear your weight,
and then you could kick rocks out of the side, and make a staircase.
And you could walk up the staircase, all the way to the top.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

She didn't remember what she said, or what Sayuri replied, but somehow
Kodachi pulled away. It was a gradual process.

But, bit by bit, she recalled herself to herself, and built on the
foundation that herself provided. When the flood is sweeping down, you
build a wall.

When you've built a wall, you build another, and another, and another.

When you're surrounded with walls you start building them higher. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Kodachi was withdrawing, and it was all her fault.

Not that she could blame her. If _she_ had had all that ... nastiness
dropped on her, _she'd_ have withdrawn, too. Not that that made it any
better.

But withdrawing was the wrong thing to do, she knew it was. You had to
bide your time, and then you had to go _at_ whatever was wrong, because
otherwise it would run over you.

Kodachi had something wrong. Well, aside from the leg, and the scar,
which were obvious. There was something _else_ wrong, too. She didn't
know what it was, or how to find out, but she knew it was there.

And if Kodachi withdrew, if she put up walls around herself, whatever
it was would just _sit_ there and get worse and _worse_ ....

She was supposed to be Kodachi's _friend_. Some friend.

It was all her fault.

So she would have to fix it.

She didn't know _how_ she would, but she would have to find a way. She
was not going to stand helplessly by. Never stand by helplessly again.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

     Late at night, a big ole house gets lonely,
     I guess every form of refuge has it's price

As the school day at Furinkan ended, some of the departing student body
behaved in unusual ways. Most of them, of course, promptly scattered
for home or their normal after-school activities, breaking up into
pairs and singletons and small groups. But two large clots of students
did _not_ break up, but remained coherent.

     He looked at the chart but he looked in vain
     Heavy cloud but no rain

One group, all boys, was joined by a small man with a ferocious white
mustache, who rounded them up and marched them off. The other, about
twenty students of mixed gender, wandered off down the road. A casual
observer would have noticed that they were traveling in the general
direction of Nerima General Hospital.

     Cause there was a time when all I did was wish
     You'd tell me this was love

A _careful_ observer would have noticed that some of them were singing.
A _very_ careful observer might also have noticed that, while the
voices that were singing tended to alternate, two were predominate,
with at least one of the two always involved. A furry, golden contral-
to, and a pure silver mezzo-soprano. But it would have to have been a
_careful_ observer.

     Now I don't know where the moral is,
     Or how this song should end

A _casual_ observer could have followed them, and seen that they _were_
heading for Nerima General, directly. And a casual observer might have
wondered at their good cheer. Even people who work at Hospitals are
seldom cheerful, and few people walk to one with laughter and song.

     'Cause I don't wanna go on with you like that
     Don't wanna be a feather in your cap

And that question, as the group spilled into the lobby of the Hospital
in a flurry of (much quieter) good cheer, would have taxed even a good
observer to the utmost. But no-one was particularly observing the group
at the moment, and so, no such question was asked.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Nabiki made the discovery, and was unsettled. This led to her finding a
nurse, and transferring the unsettlement on. In a less-well run estab-
lishment, the resulting chain reaction could conceivably have provided
amusement for some time, but fortunately Nerima General was well run.

Shaking her head and talking quietly with Dr. Tofu and the floor
physical therapist, Ranma walked towards Kodachi's room, followed by
Akane and the others, bearing gifts of flowers purchased in the
Hospital Gift Shop.

Shifting her flower arrangement to one hand, Ranma knocked on the
indicated door and opened it, to reveal a pale Sayuri, sitting in a
chair, and a very quiet and still Kodachi, lying on her bed. She
ushered Akane, Yuka and Tatewaki in the door, waving to the others to
wait for a minute and then closing it after herself.

"I've had complaints about you," Ranma said in a semi-humorous tone.

Sayuri brought her head around with a mutinous light in her eyes.
"Ranma-sempai! I couldn't just _lie_ there!"

"And why not?" Akane came forward past Ranma and put her flowers down
on Kodachi's table. "Hello, Kodachi-kun, we've brought you and Sayuri-
chan some flowers."

"Oh, no! Akane-chan, I already have more flowers than will ...." As
Akane came back around the table Sayuri's eyed widened and her voice
rose to a squeak, as she half rose from her seat. At the same time,
Kodachi sucked in her breath in a gasp, as Akane's left eye swirled
with flecks of red and gold in the flourescent light.

"Well then," Yuka grinned, "if you don't want the flowers, we'll give
them all to Kodachi-san."

"Akane-chan!" Sayuri wailed as Akane perched on the arm of her chair
and hugged her. "Your eye!"

"What about it?" Akane grinned.

"What _about_ it? It ... you ... but ... Yukaaaa!" Sayuri clutched at
her gown.

"It just changed color, Sayuri-chan. There's nothing wrong with it."
Akane's voice was pure sweet realism.

"_Just_ changed color?! Nothing _wrong_ with it?! Yuuukaaaa! Reason
with her!" Sayuri cringed as she gently reached out a hand to touch
Akane's left cheek. There were scars there, three scars across the
cheek, and she _knew_ in the marrow of her bones what kind of thing had
made them. She had seen them, often enough, on her own flesh.

Akane-chan! Akane-chan had been hurt! For her! By Them!

Kill! She wanted to kill. She wanted to rip and tear and smash and
destroy! Another of her friends was hurt! If she had possessed a tail,
it would have been bottled out in pure, furious rage.

Her vision was suddenly forced to timeshare. Yuka's face, chin
pugnaciously forward, thrust itself into her vision.

"We are not here to talk about Akane-chan's eye, Sayuri-chan." Yuka's
voice was low and grim. "We're here to look after someone who almost
got _killed_ on us!" Suddenly Yuka broke down in tears and glomped
Sayuri, trembling. "Don't go and try to die on us again, Sayuri-chan.
We've lost too may friends from Furinkan as it is."

Kodachi lay on her bed, and felt the walls grow higher. She watched the
little gathering by the bed-side and knew that she should do something.
The face of the Kuno family demanded that she show ninjo and control in
this time of stress for a friend, but all she could do ....

'Friend'? Yes, she admitted to herself, her friend. Almost her only
friend, and she could bear to do no single thing to aid ....

Ranma edged a hip onto her bed, drawing her pale and quiet attention.
As the small, red-headed girl reached out a gentle hand to cup over her
scarred face, Kodachi watched her gravely and traced her own faint
scars by eye.

Kodachi fancied that she felt a vague flutter of sensation along the
facial scan. Something almost too faint to discern and quickly fading.
As her brother leaned over, equally gravely, to kiss her on the fore-
head, Kodachi almost wept, but could not. Walls, walls of glass,
closing her in.

The walls were bad things, but how could she exist without them? Even
the friendship and concern between Sayuri, Yuka and Akane would be too
much for her to bear just now, if she must confront them head on.

Sayuri shook her head free of the tri-fold hug and looked concernedly
at Akane again. "But, Akane-chan, it _looks_ ...."

"Feh," Akane said. "Never you mind. Ranchan says it makes me look
rakish."

"Well," said Ranma, calmly, "it _does_."

"Oh." Sayuri blinked at Ranma, blinked at Akane, blinked at Ranma
again. "If you say so, Sempai."

"I do," Ranma said dryly, sliding off the bed. She took the step
necessary to reach Sayuri and took the other girl gently by the chin,
holding her face level and looking deep into her eyes. Whatever she may
have seen there, it seemed to satisfy her, as when she let go she
nodded calmly. "Yes, you're a lot better. Looks like you're going to
get well."

Sayuri stood up, to gain a small advantage by being taller than the
other girl. "I _am_ well, Sempai," she declared firmly.

Ranma gazed at her through her eyelashes, crossing her hands behind her
back. "You're sure? No nightmares? No lingering shadows? Everything
just fine?"

"I'm _sure_," Sayuri crossed her arms in front of her and glared at
Ranma stubbornly, "no, no and _yes_, just _fine_."

Ranma smiled a somewhat crooked smile and brought out her right hand,
to hold palm upward and cupped in front of Sayuri. As she focused on
it, it filled with a pearlescent globe of light, which seemed to be
filled with colors, or perhaps they were shapes. 

Whatever they may have been, Sayuri leapt backwards with a strangled
shriek, hands curling into claws (or, perhaps, to feel the hilt of an
invisible knife) and rising to strike. Kodachi, reacting to the threat
signal, tensed to defend, searching automatically for a weapon, buoyed
by a momentary surge of adrenaline.

Ranma simply held the light globe, bestowing upon Sayuri a somewhat
sardonic gaze. Sayuri looked up and down between Ranma's face and the
light a few times, before coming out of a defensive stance and dropping
her arms to fold her hands together in front of her, ducking her head.

As she did, the light-globe flickered and vanished, and Ranma stepped
forwards again, reaching out with one finger to tuck it gently under-
neath her chin and lift up her head. "You know, Sayuri-chan, even very
brave heroes have to take time out now and then to be healed."

Sayuri flushed scarlet. "Yes, Sempai."

"You're still very much under the _physical_ effects, you know," Ranma
continued gently. "So you _are_ going to listen to your physical
therapist, right?"

Meekly, Sayuri said, "Yes, Sempai."

"And you're going to listen to Dr. Tofu, too, right?"

Diminuendo, "Yes, Sempai."

"And you're going to listen to _me_, right?"

Mumbled, with cast-down eyes, "Yes, Sempai."

Ranma let go of Sayuri's chin. "Good. In that case, I think that
between us we can get you on your feet and back to school in no time.
No time, in this case, being defined as about a week." Turning to look
at Kodachi, as well, "For both of you. Also, I would like for you two
to stay together and do your exercises together while you're at the
Hospital. 

"I was going to suggest that you visit Kodachi-kun when we came over
today, Sayuri-chan, but since you seem to have anticipated me ...."

Sayuri blushed again. "I didn't want to just _sit_ there ... there
wasn't anything to do ... Kodachi-chan doesn't have anything to do
either ...."

Ranma grinned at them, "We brought you some magazines, and some of the
makings of a small party. So if the emotional hullaballoo is over ...."

Akane grinned at her, Tatewaki and Kodachi nodded gravely and Yuka and
Sayuri blushed. And Ranma opened the door to the teeming (in a sense)
multitude (relatively speaking).

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Bosabosa Daisuke, Furinkan High School Class 2-F, was glad to be able
to (finally) get in the room, pushing past his eternal partner Chapatsu
Hiroshi in his haste. It wasn't so much that he was eager to see the
other half of his normal double date and the closest thing he had to a
girl friend; although he was. 

Nor was it the opportunity to be in the same small room with the newly
triumphant Tendo Akane, although he thought of her as an acquaintance
and hence, in some small way, shared her glory; although that would
certainly be a good thing. It wasn't even that the same small room
would also contain the exotic and utterly beyond cool new arbiter of
stylishness at Furinkan, Bushiko Ranma; although the closer you stayed
to her the better.

No, the primary reason for his eagerness was much simpler; he was
carrying a large plant, and it was getting darn heavy.

It's amazing, sometimes, the small points on which destiny can turn.

He spent the first several moments inside the room looking for some-
where to set it. Attempting to sort these first impressions gave him a
few odd data points.

First; the room had, in addition to Sayuri-chan, Yuka-chan, and Akane,
Ranma, and Tatewaki-sempai, another occupant.

Second; this occupant was a _very_ pretty girl, somewhat pale and grave
looking.

Third; Tatewaki-sempai was standing by her, and basic deduction told
him that she must be the room's primary tenant; Tatewaki's sister, who,
he believed, was named Kodachi.

Fourth; there were lots of places to put flowers, because there were
almost none already here.

These facts drew forth a chain of deductions, thusly;
a.) This was a hospital room.
     1.) Belonging to Kuno Kodachi.
     2.) Who is a very pretty girl.
     3.) Who is, in addition, sick.
          A.) In the hospital, in fact.
          B.) Because of wounds sustained during Heroism.
               i.) Which, he, himself, had witnessed.
b.) There were almost no flowers in this room.
     1.) Being a hospital room, belonging to Kodachi, etc.
     2.) What flowers there were bore tags.
          A.) That said Akane, Ranma or Tatewaki.
Therefore:
c.) Kodachi,
     1.) Who was in the hospital.
     2.) And a Hero.
     3.) And a very pretty girl, too.
d.) Had Almost No Flowers.
     1.) Which was Bad.
     2.) And would probably make her Unhappy.
          A.) Which was Very Bad.
Moreover:
e.) He, Bosabosa Daisuke, had Flowers.
     1.) Rather good ones.
     2.) Which could be given to Kodachi.
          A.) Who was a very pretty girl.
          B.) Etcetera.
     3.) Which would make her happy.
          A.) Which would be Good.
f.) Kodachi had _not_, previously attended Furinkan.
     1.) She had attended some other school.
          A.) Which had not, apparently, sent Flowers.
               i.) And was, therefor, Forever to be Damned.
     2.) She might not be happy with the situation there.
g.) A good impression of Furinkan High School,
     1.) As provided by, say, Bosabosa Daisuke.
     2.) And possibly others (Grrr).
     3.) As opposed to the Other School.
h.) Might induce her to transfer.
     1.) To Furinkan.
     2.) Which was co-ed.
     3.) Where her brother already attended.
Which:
i.) Would increase the number of pretty girls at Furinkan.
     1.) By at least one.
     2.) Kodachi.
          A.) Who was a very pretty girl.
          B.) Etcetera.
j.) Which would be a Very Good Thing.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The young man with the unruly hair had given her flowers.

This might, in itself, have been considered normal. Many young men had
given her flowers.

The interesting thing was; he had not, thereafter, asked her for a
date.

This was, in her experience, highly abnormal.

Moreover, many of the other people who had come to see Sayuri, presum-
ably her schoolmates, had _also_ given her flowers. And none of _them_
had asked her for a date, either.

Or for anything else. Not even obliquely.

It was almost enough to make her think that they liked her.

That was silly, of course, because they hadn't had any opportunity to
like her, or to know her at all. But still.

There was a small party going on. People had brought chips, and other
snacks. Someone had put a few packs of them on her bed. For her to eat.

It was a nice party, for a hospital room.

She wished she could take part.

But to do so she would have to lower her walls, and if she did ....

She opened a bag of chips, and ate a few.

But there were such a lot of people around. If even a few of them would
break the force of anything ... bad ... that happened, she could get
them back up again.

But why would they do that? They didn't know her at all, and they
didn't seem to want anything from her. Or even know that there was
anything to be had.

She ate a few more chips. They weren't too bad.

Not bad at all, really.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

She watched Kodachi, furtively. It looked like she might be opening up
a bit. It was a _wonderful_ party. Well, for a hospital room, anyway.

She steered the conversation a little bit, so that it would include
Kodachi, and watched her participate a little. It was a hard thing to
do, which she hadn't really had to do before, and she didn't think she
was doing it very well, but nobody seemed to mind, or even notice much.

She stole a few more chips from Hiroshi, and tugged her gowns tighter;
defying their natural tendency to flop open.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

She ate a few more chips, and then a piece of pocky. They were good.

Gravely, she considered her new flowers.

It occurred to her that _all_ of the flowers had been brought by (and
bought by) students of Furinkan. Akane-san, Ranma-sensei and oniichan
were students there too, after all.

None of her schoolmates at St. Herebreke had sent her any flowers. Not
one. None of them had even _visited_.

Looking around, it _was_ a nice party.

It occurred to her that there might well be more important things to
look for in a school than exclusivity. When you looked at things
closely.

It occurred to her that, as of tonight, all of the people whom she
might call her friends attended Furinkan.

It occurred to her that all of the people she knew at St. Herebreke
were either enemies, rivals or flunkies.

It occurred to her that flunkies weren't doing her much good at the
moment.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Ranma was closeted closely with Sayuri, Dr. Tofu and Tatewaki, propping
herself on the bed where Kodachi could hear. They were discussing
strategies for therapy and coordinating the therapies that would happen
in the hospital, with those that Sayuri and Kodachi would have to go
through after they got out.

"Okay, Kodachi-chan," Sayuri said, perkily, "that's the schedule for
the hospital sorted out. Do you think we could keep working together
after we get out. Some of these things are really boring."

Kodachi smiled, for what felt like the first time in weeks, "I think
so, Sayuri-chan. Tatewaki-oniisan?"

Tatewaki blinked, and looked down. "Yes, Imouto-chan?"

"Please have the family lawyers start the necessary administrative
tasks to have me transferred to Furinkan."

"Yeee-ha!" Sayuri leapt up into the air, clapping her hands.

Her hands, being thus occupied, could not tighten the ties on her
hospital gowns.

These, therefor, in conjunction with the prime directive of their
tribe, untied. Which left nothing at all to hold up the gowns. Which,
subsequently, fell down.

Yuka and Akane immediately whapped Hiroshi and Daisuke on the back of
the head.

"What?!" the Average Pair demanded, in unison.

"Hentai," Akane and Yuka explained, not unkindly, also in unison.

"We didn't even look!" Daisuke complained.

"Well, you should have," Akane replied.

"We didn't get a _chance_ to look!" Hiroshi said at the same time. Yuka
whapped him again. "Ow!"

Tatewaki and Dr. Tofu simultaneously put their heads into their hands,
in pain.

Ranma calmly stood up and handed Sayuri, who was eeping and trying to
cover herself, her gowns.

And Kodachi dissolved into giggles, helplessly.

Sayuri hugged her and the other students gathered around to congratu-
late her on transferring. 

It was a beginning.

You may build your walls as high and strong as you may choose. You may
lay your roof and floor. But you have not built yourself a house, until
you've built yourself a door.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was late, and the sky was dark and shot with stars.

As they left the hospital, Ranma and Akane walked closely together,
talking. But eventually they came to the street that led, down one way,
to the Tendo Dojo, and down another, to Ranma's apartment. Here they
paused for a while.

Finally, they parted, one to go one way, one the other. As they walked,
each alone, at nearly the same time, they each began to sing, quietly.

     Sometimes the snow comes down in June
     Sometimes the sun goes round the moon
     I see the passion in your eyes
     Sometimes it's all a big surprise

It was probably coincidence. Certainly they were each, by that point,
far out of the other's hearing. There really was no way that they could
be coordinating with each other. So, despite the fact that a hypothet-
ical careful observer would have noted that they were in tune and in
time, it _must_ have been coincidence. There really wasn't any other
explanation.

     Cause there was a time when all I did was wish
     You'd tell me this was love
     It's not the way I hoped or how I planned
     But somehow it's enough

It could have been something of an omen, I suppose, but it wasn't.

     But now we're standing face-to-face
     Isn't this world a crazy place
     Just when I thought our chance had passed
     You go and save the best for last

The astute reader may have noticed, in this chapter, several instances
of occurrences that would, in a normal Ranmaverse, have called for
Omens of Doom. Thunder from a clear sky, family altars suddenly
breaking, visits from strange monks, that sort of thing. The astute
reader may be wondering why such Omens haven't shown up.

     All of the nights you came to me
     When some silly girl had set you free
     I wondered how you'd make it through
     I wondered what was wrong with you

It's a fair question.

     Cause how could you give your love to someone else
     And share your dreams with me
     Sometimes the very thing you're looking for
     Is the one thing you can't see

The answer is fairly simple. These things are taken care of by kami.
Not very big, or important kami, it is true, but kami nevertheless.
Lurking about celestially and waiting for omen-worthy events and
causing an omen when necessary is simply their job.

     But now we're standing face-to-face
     Isn't this world a crazy place
     Just when I thought our chance had passed
     You go and save the best for last

And, like all jobs, its holders occasionally take some time off.

     Sometimes the very thing you're looking for
     Is the one thing you can't see

The holder of the position for Nerima ward, at the present moment, is a
kami named Waruyoi Asabitan. He is presently living up to his name,
drunk out of his mind in a club in Chiba, karaokeing like there will be
no tomorrow.
     
     Sometimes the snow comes down in June
     Sometimes the sun goes round the moon
     Just when I thought our chance had passed
     You go and save the best for last

So, you see, I can state with absolute authority that any coincidental
timing that a hypothetical careful observer might have noted was, in
fact, just that. Coincidental, and not any sort of omen at all.

     You went and saved the best for last, yeah.

What can I say? Some days are just Like That.

     You went and saved the best for last, yeah.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Next:
Chapter Seven: If You Meet The Buddha On The Road
Part A: Without Troubling of a Star.

'Til next,
Eric Hallstrom, 01/16/2001