What I Was Once
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic by Alan Harnum
-harnums@thekeep.org
-harnums@hotmail.com (old/backup)
All Ranma characters are the property of Rumiko Takahashi, first
published by Shogakukan in Japan and brought over to North
America by Viz Communications.
Transpacific Fanfiction:
http://www.humbug.org.au/~wendigo/transp.html
The plane rumbles to a stop, the rushing images outside my window
slowing down to form a coherent sight. I unbuckle my seat belt and reach
down in front of me, taking up the overnight bag I packed in my New York
apartment an hour before I rushed to catch my plane and laying it on my
lap. I smooth down as well as I can the wrinkles that have developed in my
pants during the many hours of flying. They are expensive and perfectly
fitted, and inside, they bear the label of one of the finest and most
expensive tailors in the world. My jacket and shirt bear the same label,
and my shoes are so brightly polished that I can see my face in them from
here. The battered black bag I carry instead of a briefcase is the only
thing that offsets an observer's image that I am some young and very
successful businessman. True, I am young, and by any definition
successful, particularly so by that of my chosen trade. My trade is magic;
not ancient rituals and spells like those of my former people, but the
magic of the stage. Not that my craft requires any less skill or
dedication. I am not a birthday party entertainer, pulling rabbits from
hats and doves from my sleeves. I accomplish things by trickery, deceit
and illusion that seem truly impossible. I have been called the greatest
escape artist since Houdini, and I take no little pride in being able to
say that this is not overstated.
I am greatly in demand for charity functions held by the rich and
famous. I perform to sold out crowds in theatres throughout the world. My
agents are negotiating even now for a possible movie deal, although I have
no idea of what kind. The guest list at my twenty-seventh birthday party
a few months ago featured among it some of the most famous names of
Broadway and Hollywood. Yes, by any definition but my own I am successful.
In my own eyes, I can never be successful. I enjoy what I do, and I
enjoy also the lifestyle that it allows me to live, but nothing I can ever
accomplish will overcome my great failure that I have spent a decade
trying to convince myself did not matter. There is a hollow part within me
that will never be filled, the mark that she, with all her cruelty and
beauty, left upon me.
"Will passengers please leave the plane in an orderly fashion?" the
voice of the captain says in English. It is repeated again, this time in
Japanese, by a smooth female voice. My seatmate rises, as do I. She is a
pleasant, attractive young woman, coming back home to visit her parents for
a few weeks. She is single, as she has pointed out to me numerous times on
the flight. I flirted with her in the same practiced way I do whenever I
sit next to an attractive woman who recognizes me on a long trip. As we
arrive at the terminal, she turns and hands me a piece of paper with two
numbers written on it.
"The first one's the number of my parent's place, while I'm here," she
says, smiling coyly but nervously at me. "The second is my New York
number. It's been great to meet you."
"It has been my pleasure," I say smoothly. She turns and leaves, her
long hair drifting behind her. I realize, not without much suprise, that I
cannot remember what her name is or what she told me she does for a living.
When I am sure she cannot see me anymore, I carefully crumple up the paper
and toss it into a trash can.
I am out and waiting for a limo in a long lineup soon enough. I had
no luggage on the plain; I have changes of more casual clothes and my
toiletries in my bag. I do not expect to stay for long; I have a Los
Angeles show as part of the benefit for the San Francisco quake victims
coming up in five days. The city had proved more resistant to the next
"big one" then even the most optimistic predictions had said, but tens of
thousands have still been left homeless, or injured, or dead. Always a
price to pay, even for that which we have no control over.
Finally, I am at the front of the line, stepping into the back seat of
a sleek black car.
"No luggage?" the driver asks.
"No. I'm only here for a day or so," I say, slumping back against the
seat. I don't feel like being recognized right now; I simply feel like
being back in my apartment in New York. As much as there are dear and
valued friends here, each trip is the awakening of so many memories.
"Where to?" the driver asks. I see his eyes glance back at me in the
mirror. If he has recognized me, he says nothing, for which I am grateful.
"Nerima," I say wearily.
"Where to in Nerima?" the driver asks. I give him the address, and
soon we are gliding smoothly away, leaving the airport in the distance. We
pass through Tokyo, among great metal and glass buildings that seem to rise
higher and higher each time I come here. Gradually, the buildings drop in
height, and I am outside the Tendo dojo. It has not changed since I last
visited it, when I did a show here a year ago. It has not changed since I
first saw it.
I step out of the limo, paying the driver and giving him a moderately
generous tip. He thanks me and drives away as I walk up to the front door
and ring the bell, my bag held loosely in one hand.
Kasumi answers, her face still as lovely and calm as it was ten years
ago. "Mousse! Hello!" she says brightly, smiling a smile full of warmth
and welcome. Hearing my name pronounced that way brings back memories, as
it always does. In the States, everyone is tremendously careful to
pronounce my name correctly, for fear that I may be offended.
"Kasumi-san," I say. "It's wonderful to see you."
"Come in, come in! We weren't expecting to see you so soon," Kasumi
says. "You're so busy being famous and all."
"Never too busy to see old friends," I say, stepping inside. Kasumi
holds out her arms to me and we share a hug for a moment. She smells of
flour and spices, so unlike the perfumed women who peck me lightly on the
cheek to welcome me to their parties or their gatherings.
"Everyone else is in the living room," she says as we pull away.
"Everyone else?" I ask.
"Just the family right now," Kasumi says. "Ryoga and Akari should
arrive today as well. Ukyou is going to be here later tonight."
The thought of my old friends brings a smile to my face as I follow
Kasumi into the living room. But the thought of them brings also memories
of her, and my smile fades.
They are all gathered around Akane, of course. She's the centre of
attention; her and little Atsuko. She holds the baby on her lap as she
sits on the couch, Ranma beside her. Ranma's father leans over the baby,
making cooing noises and offering her his finger. The baby reaches for it
sleepily, and his broad face breaks into a smile as her tiny hand touches
his big finger. He sits back down next to his wife. Soun Tendo sits
between his old friend and Kasumi's husband. Kasumi and Tofu's two
children, a boy and a girl, four and eight years old respectively, sit on
the floor at his feet. Nabiki sits in a chair, her sharp business suit
making her stand out from the rest as I am sure my own suit does.
"Who was at the door, Kasumi?" Ranma says, turning around and looking
up. He smiles when he sees me and hops over the back of the couch.
"Mousse! Man, it's good to see you," he says, shaking my hand and
clapping me on the shoulder. He looks much unchanged from his younger
days; the same pigtail, same red shirt, same Ranma. From their seats, the
other members of the family call their greetings.
"How could I stay away from an event like this?" I said. The birth of
a child is always a cause for celebration, but more so for Ranma and Akane.
Neither of them would ever talk about, I know, but I have gleaned from
conversations with other members of their family that they have had a lot
of difficulty in their attempts to have children. Ranma, I understand,
blamed himself, believing that his Jusenkyou-induced gender switching had
something to do with it, despite the fact that all of us were cured long
ago. But they'd finally succeeded, and I was here to share in their
happiness.
"Uncle Mousse!" Tofu and Kasumi's children say, hopping up from the
floor and coming to tug at the legs of my pants. "Do some magic for us,
Uncle Mousse!"
"Toshio, Ninami," Kasumi says gently but chidingly. "Mousse-san has
had a long plane ride and it's not nice to demand things."
The children look chastened and step away from me. I smile and reach
down to ruffle the hair of Toshio. "It's alright. I've had something
caught up my sleeve since I got up this morning anyway, but I haven't taken
it out yet. Should we see what it is?"
Toshio nods, his chubby young face breaking into a smile. Beside him,
his sister, who I can see will be as beautiful as her mother, smiles as
well.
I put my bag down on the floor and reach into my sleeve, pulling out a
colourful silk scarf. Behind it is another, the two of them tied together.
And behind them, another, and another. It is a simple trick, something I
could do in my sleep, but it doesn't fail to amuse the children. At that
age, nearly everything is magic, and that which is truly magic particularly
so. They giggle, and at the end of the scarf is a bright boquet of
flowers.
"Run and take those to your Aunt Akane," I say to Ninami, handing them
to her. She nods and inhales them deeply, before taking them and
presenting them to the seated Akane proudly. Kasumi picks Toshio up in her
arms and walks with Ranma and I to Akane's side. She is holding the
flowers in one hand while cradling the baby with the other arm.
"They're lovely, Mousse," she says. "Thank you."
I bend down and kiss her on the cheek. "It's true. New mothers do
look so radiant."
"Ranma, could you go and get me something to put these in?" Akane
says.
"Sure Akane," he says, heading towards the kitchen. Akane puts the
flowers on the table beside the couch and pats the seat beside her. I sit
down, looking over at her and the baby. It's beautiful in the way all
infants are; peaceful and innocent.
"Your Uncle Mousse is here to see you," Akane says. The baby opens
its eyes and looks up me, before yawning and closing them again. "Would
you like to hold her?"
"I'd love to," I say. Akane passes the baby gently to me and I hold
her half-asleep form in my arms. She is so tiny, and so perfect. There
are times, the dark times in my life, when I have wondered what would have
happened had I taken a different path at the wedding? Was it worth what I
did, that which caused me to lose my last hopes of a life with her?
Looking down at the child in my arms, something tells me it probably was.
If the sacrifice was my own chance at happiness for the sake of so many
others, then so be it.
"She's a beautiful baby," I say.
"Takes after her mother," Ranma says, appearing with a water filled
vase. He places the flowers in the vase and the face on the table, as I
stand up from the seat on the couch, handing the baby back to her mother.
Ranma takes my place beside Akane, and I glance around for another seat.
The only one is beside Nabiki, and I take it.
"Hi Mousse," she says. "And how is the life of the rich and famous
magician?"
"Rich and famous," I say. "And what of the life of the rich, if not
quite so famous businesswoman?"
"Rich, at least," Nabiki says. Like her sisters, her beauty has only
matured since she was a teenager. Each time I come here, I still don't
understand whether Nabiki is actually making advances to me, or just
playing the same game I play sometimes. I've thought of trying to find out
once or twice, but each time I consider it, as with every time I consider
it with any woman, the memory of her is there, and it drives all thoughts
of it from my mind. Even now, after all these years, after what has
happened, I cannot find the strength to betray her.
I have not seen her in more than ten years; I do not know what she
looks like now, if she is married, if she is even alive. But she left
herself upon me like a brand upon my flesh, and we are not the masters of
our own hearts. Perhaps that is for the best; if we could pick and choose
who we give our hearts to in the same way we choose a set of clothes, the
world would likely be a much darker place. Even now, I realize as I look
at Nabiki Tendo, I am not looking at her the woman she is, but how she
compares to Shampoo. Their faces are both lovely, but in the decade of
absence, Shampoo's has grown I think even lovelier than I thought it
before, and back then she shone for me like the sun, blinded me to all
beauty but hers. I remember her hair, dark and lovely, and flowing on to
forever like a river I would willingly drown myself within. Nabiki's hair
is immaculate and shining, framing her face wonderfully, but to my eye, it
does not compare to Shampoo.
I realize I am staring at her; she smiles slightly and shakes her
head, saying nothing. Whether she is amused or flattered, I do not know.
Perhaps a bit of both.
"So, how long are you staying for, Mousse?" Ranma asks. He is holding
his daughter in his lap, with his free arm around the shoulders of his
wife. She rest her head contentedly on his shoulder.
"Not long," I say. "I've got the San Francisco quake benefit coming
up in Los Angeles in a few days. Probably for tonight, and the night after
that. I probably should book a hotel room somewhere..."
"Ah, don't even think about it. You can stay in the guest room,"
Ranma says. "Ryoga and Akari and their son are staying with us too."
"Alright," I say with a smile. "I'd like to get changed out of this
suit anyway."
"Come on," Ranma says, handing the baby back to Akane and hopping up
off the couch. "I'll show you where you can throw your stuff."
He takes me up the stairs. The room behind the wooden door is simple,
with a bed with a table beside it, a dresser, a chair. Yet it feels more
comfortable to me than the grandest hotel I've stayed in.
"Used to be Nabiki's room," Ranma says. "She cleaned a lot of the
stuff out when she moved out, but that's the same bed, same dresser, same
chair."
"So I'm sleeping in the same bed as Nabiki?" I say absentmindedly,
immediately wishing I hadn't. Ranma grins and slaps me on the back.
"Hey, it's not like you couldn't have a long time ago," he says.
"She likes you, Mousse. I think you're one of the few guys she does.
Everybody can see it."
I grin, embarassed. There is no deceit or cruelty in his honest face.
He is a good man, truly one of the best and kindest human beings I know,
even if he can be thoughtless. I try to laugh, but it comes out as more of
a sigh.
"Still thinkin' about her, huh?" Ranma says. For someone who at times
displays the sensitivity of a rock, Ranma can be remarkably empathic at
times. "Whatever, man. Come on out when you're changed."
He pats me on the back and leaves down the hallway. I step over to
the bed and sit down upon it, searching through my bag for something to
wear. Five minutes later, with my suit hung neatly on the door to the
room, I come back down the hallway in jeans and a loose shirt, feeling much
more comfortable than before. Someone downstairs is ringing the bell; when
I am back down in the living room, Kasumi is bringing in Ryoga and Akari
with their five year old. Ranma gets up off the couch once again to greet
his friend, and Masami plows into his legs with a roar.
"Geez, if I met this kid by himself I'd know he was your son, Ryoga,"
Ranma says. Masami stops when he sees me; I am the only unfamiliar one to
him. Ryoga and Akari live far out in the countryside, and aren't always
here when I visit. The last time I saw them was four years ago, when
Masami was a little more than a year old.
"Who are you?" he asks me suspiciously. His mother blushes at his
rudeness, but I smile. His father's son, alright.
"That's your Uncle Mousse," Ryoga says, coming forward to pat his son
on the head. "You probably don't remember him."
Ranma and I look much the same as we did as teenagers. Ryoga does as
well, only much larger. He's a huge man, probably standing half a head
taller than me, and outweighing me by half again as much. His wife is
small and demure, a contrast to him. Yet they are both so similiar in
their shyness, in their deep and abiding loyalty.
"Hi Masami," I say, kneeling down to his level.
"Do you do martial arts like Uncle Ranma?" he asks me.
"A little," I say. "I'm not nearly as good as him, or even your
father."
"What do you do?" he says, wiping his nose on his sleeve.
"I do magic," I say.
"Really?" he says, the suspicion on his face being instantly replaced
by interest.
"Uh-huh," I say. Ryoga and Akari see their son is fine with me, and
walk by to visit with Akane and the baby.
"Can you show me some?" he asks, his eyes wide. I nod, having already
palmed my juggling balls into my sleeve. I pull out three and toss them
one-handed into the air. They seem to float and dance in the air, changing
colours from the original red, blue and green to yellow and white and black
and many other colours. More balls are added to the mix, and soon I am
juggling six one-handed in front of his staring eyes. Then with pops, they
disappear into small clouds of brightly coloured the smoke. I cup my hands
around them, gather them all in, and when I open them again, there are the
three original balls, whole and intact.
"Wow..." Masami says. "That's neat."
"Masami-chan! Come meet Aunt Akane's new baby," Ryoga's voice calls.
"Coming, daddy," the boy says, running off in the direction of his
father. The big man scoops him into his arms and smoothes his hair back,
smiling at his son with gentleness that belies his intimidating appearance.
Little Atsuko is the picture of calm, unusual in a baby only a few days
old.
I involuntarily yawn as I take my seat beside Nabiki again. She looks
over at me.
"Tired?" she asks. I nod.
"Long flight, and I'm jetlagged like you wouldn't believe," I say.
"Why don't ya take a nap upstairs for a few hours?" Ranma says.
"We'll wake you up when Ukyou gets here. She and Kasumi an' Akari are
gonna cook dinner."
"That sounds wonderful," I say. "I'm sorry to go to sleep so soon
after I arrive, but..."
"Mousse, it's great that you came. Go and have a rest," Akane says.
I nod and stand up, yawning again, before bidding farewell to everyone and
trudging my way upstairs on heavy legs.
Lying fully clothed on the bed, I can hear their voices drifting up
from the living room. The walls and floors here seem particularly thin and
conduct sound from all over the house well; perhaps Nabiki did something to
them long ago.
"Did you see him with the kids?" Akane says. "He'd make a wonderful
father."
"I'm suprised he hasn't settled down yet," Nabiki says. "He's got it
all. Looks, charm, money..."
"Sounds like you've got your eye on him, Nabiki," Ranma says. There
is laughter at that.
I know they do not mean to be cruel; they intend what they say as
compliments to me, were I there.
"Poor guy," Ranma says. "He's still pining after Shampoo, after all
these years."
"When is he going to get over her?" Akane says, and I hear anger in
her tone now. I know it is not directed at me, at least. "She treated him
like nothing! How can he still have his heart set on her, after what
happened?"
"We have to accept who he is," Ryoga says. "It is... so hard to
overcome the pulling of one's heart, despite in ourselves how wrong we know
it is."
"He is our dear friend," Kasumi says. "We owe him more than we can
ever repay for what he did."
I drift off then, the separate murmur of their voices gradually fading
into one darkness that lays itself over me. When I awake, someone is
gently shaking me awake. Long black hair, with two streaks of pink.
"Mousse-san," Akari says gently. "Ukyou's arrived."
I nod and fumble instinctively for my glasses on the bedside table.
Then I remember I don't need them anymore; I haven't needed them for eight
years, ever since the money I made with my first big show allowed me to pay
for the advanced laser eye surgery that rid me of the hated things forever.
"Thank you, Akari-san," I say, swinging my legs off the bed and
standing up. She walks ahead of me down the hallway, the slight limp of
her left leg the permanent reminder she carries of that day. Hers is upon
her body, while mine is upon my soul. Ukyou is in the hallway, being
warmly greeted by the entire household. In her embrace with Soun, she sees
me descending the stairs behind Akari and her lovely, radiant smile grows
even brighter.
"Mousse, get over here and give me a hug," she says commandingly. I
willingly obey. Like all of them, she has grown only more beautiful in the
passage of the years. Has the same thing happened to Shampoo, I wonder.
Will I ever know?
Ukyou holds me at arm's length by the shoulders, studying me intently.
Like me, much of her time is spent travelling, observing the franchises of
her restaurant chain, which has started to flourish all over the world.
When she opened the New York one three years ago, I was there to celebrate
her first move into the United States, which ensured a lot more TV cameras
and reporters than the opening of a small foreign fast-food chain usually
would. The publicity was good; the restaurant does a brisk business, and
I occasionally visit it. The okonomiyaki isn't as good as Ukyou makes, but
it comes pretty close. The last time I saw her was one my twenty-sixth
birthday, when she happened to be in town checking on the store. I spent
most of my time at my birthday party with her, fueling much speculation by
the papers that I, considered one of the most eligible men in show
business, might finally be settling down with a certain lovely
restauranteur; they were wrong, of course, as all their speculations
about women I am seen with have been. She is always there, behind their
eyes, taunting me, and those women that I could have can never measure up
in my mind to the one I surely cannot.
"Konatsu sends his regrets," Ukyou says, turning to Ranma. "But he's
handling the franchise opening in Montreal, and they've been giving him a
lot of trouble over the language laws."
While Ukyou could never love Konatsu in the way he wanted, just as
Ranma could never love her in the way she wanted, they remain partners in
the business they built together from Ukyou's first store. I wonder if in
her own heart she feels the same sadness I do, and the same curse to love
one whom you can never have. On the surface, Ukyou is cheery and happy,
just as she was as a teenager. But then again, on the surface so am I, if
not in the same way. Right now though, I am happy, to be with my oldest
friends, reunited once again to share in the joy of the two people who were
the centre of the crazy lives we led a decade ago. Ranma, Ryoga and I. A
dojo instructor, a raiser of sumo pigs and a magician. Was this where we
saw ourselves ten years ago? I doubt it, but no one sees themselves as they
will truly be in the future. But whatever future I saw for myself, she was
always at my side, and whatever I have made for myself feels inadequate
without her.
"Oh, Akane, she's beautiful," Ukyou says, cradling the baby in her
arms. "Hi, Atsuko."
Ukyou hands the baby to Ranma and turns to Akari and Kasumi. "You
guys wanna get dinner started?"
They reply in the affirmative, and the three of them head into the
kitchen, while the rest of us head back to the living room, taking our
seats again to talk and remember days past. There is talk of the
engagements, the duels, the quests we went upon through accident or some
design of fate. But there is no talk of the wedding; always, in my
presence, they scrupulously avoid talk of the wedding. The three older
children play together quietly, as the baby is passed from arm to arm and
held gently by all of us as we talk. When it is my turn, Atsuko opens her
eyes and looks at me, giving me a toothless smile. How such a calm child
came from the union of this mother and father I guess we'll never know.
"Okay, everyone, we need some hands to help us bring out dinner,"
Ukyou calls from the kitchen. Ranma, Ryoga and I stand up and go in,
helping to carry out the platters of food to the table in the backyard
where we will dine tonight. The food smells better than anything I have
eaten in a restaurant since the last time I had dinner at the Tendo's.
All of us are settling down at the crowded dinner table when Kasumi
suddenly puts a hand to her cheek.
"Oh! I've left the wine in the kitchen," she says.
"Allow me," I say, rising from my seat and heading back inside towards
the kitchen. As I am about to step inside, I hear a knocking at the door.
I have no idea who it can be; all of us are here. Puzzled, I go to it and
open it up.
"Yes? Can I help you-" I begin, but the words die in my throat at the
sight of the woman on the doorstep, a woman who I have longed within my
heart to see again, but hoped within my mind to never meet.
Shampoo stands there, her hands holding the small package in front of
her like a shield. She is not as I had pictured her; the reality is even
more beautiful than anything I could imagine. I feel the familiar urges
rise up within me, the urges I had to fight so long ago to do what I did.
I want so badly to throw myself at my feet and beg her to forgive me for
what I did, even though I have been told by so many so often that it was
she who was in the wrong. For how could she do wrong?
The memories, memories long buried, of a bright day in summer, come
back to me. At last, we have returned, Ranma, Ryoga and I, from our
journey to China. We are whole again, men not cursed by forms beyond our
control. With me, I bring the promise of a new tomorrow for Shampoo and I,
the gift I know will bring me her love. It is so small yet so precious a
thing; a tiny vial of Nyannichuan water, the bane of Ranma's existence, but
Shampoo's salvation from her cursed body. Ranma carries the Nannichuan
water for his father, and he has told both Ryoga and I how he can now marry
Akane as a full man. We have grown close, the three of us, on our journey.
That night, I return to the Nekohanten and stand before Shampoo.
"I have something for you," I say.
"What stupid present you bring Shampoo now?" she says in a bored
voice. I uncap the water without a word and toss it over her. She
splutters angrily and slaps me, before holding up her still human hands in
front of her face in wonder.
"Mousse..." she says. "Aiya."
"It's alright, my darling," I say. "Now we can be married as a full
man and a full woman."
"I no marry you, Mousse," Shampoo says. "Now that Shampoo no longer
cat, Ranma no need to fear her anymore. Shampoo marry Ranma now."
"Shampoo..." I say, pain like a needle through my heart.
"Thank you, Mousse," Shampoo says. She rushes into the kitchen to
tell Cologne, to share her joy with her great-grandmother. I walk
silently from the restaurant and onto the streets, weeping bitter tears and
not caring for my weakness. All had been for nothing; I had not faced that
perilous journey across China to Jusenkyou for myself, but for her and our
happiness. And now she has thrown all that I have done back in my face.
Akane found me in the front yard of the Tendo house the next morning,
curled up into a ball. I still do not know how I found my way there, or
why. She shook me awake, worry in her eyes, asking me what was wrong. I
mumbled something and stood up, trying to ignore the stiffness of my body,
and made my way back towards the Nekohanten. There I worked as if nothing
had happened, ignoring each time Shampoo left in another attempt to seduce
Ranma. Nothing mattered to me then.
Then the invitation came, for me only, delivered by Ranma as I was
walking to the market. Their wedding was in two days. Numbly, I prepared
myself and snuck out early on that morning before Cologne and Shampoo
awoke. Passing by Ukyou's restaurant, I saw her through the window,
crying into her arms at one of the tables. I stepped inside, finding the
door unlocked, and sat beside her, consoling a girl I knew little of as
best I could. We walked together to the Saotome house when the time came.
The wedding was to be held there. There were few people I knew, other than
the Tendo's, Ukyou, Ryoga and Akari. They held the wedding in the dojo,
having no other place to do it. Ranma in his tuxedo and Akane, radiant in
her dress, stood before the priest taking their vows when the wall of the
dojo exploded inward.
It was Cologne and Shampoo, and the Kuno siblings, along with
Happosai. I can guess how she recruited Kuno; most likely she promised him
Akane and his "pig-tailed goddess" once Ranma was away in China with her
and Shampoo. Kodachi, I had thought too devious, but perhaps desperation
drove her too it. Cologne, I discovered later, had recruited Happosai to
help by allowing him a few minutes alone with Shampoo, who had agreed to
let him do what he wanted within limits. That Shampoo would submit to his
touch for Ranma, but not to mine for my love, I find almost inconceivable,
but I believe it is true.
The wedding was chaos; guests fleeing everywhere, Cologne and Happosai
throwing chi blasts and explosives like crazy. Ranma, enraged, battled
Cologne as Ryoga took on Happosai. Genma and Soun, furious at yet another
disrupted wedding, set about hammmering Tatewaki Kuno repeatedly about the
room. Kodachi headed for Akane, but was intercepted by Ukyou. In the
chaos, I guess they all forgot about Shampoo. Ranma had leaped to fight
Cologne, leaving Akane's side. In a daze, I looked about. Shampoo leans
over the fallen Akane, her bonbori held in each hand, raising them above
her head, and the hate for what she sees before her twists her face into
ugliness I have never seen before there. I can see there is no one who can
stop her, but I cannot throw myself into action. It is as if I watch not
as a participant, but as an observer.
Akari is beside them suddenly, grabbing Shampoo's arm with no kind of
skill or strength but with a fierce determination and bravery. Shampoo
shatters her kneecap with one kick, and her scream seems a knife that
slices my heart.
Akari's scream causes Ryoga to look up from where is he battling
Happosai on fairly even footing. A single shot from the old man sends him
tumbling to the ground. Shampoo, distracted by Akari, who lies
near-crippled on the ground beside Akane, raises her bonbori for the blow
that will end the life of her rival.
"NO!" Akari says through the pain and tears, struggling and putting
herself over the semi-conscious Akane. "You'll have to go through me
first!"
"Fine," Shampoo says. "You die too, stupid pig girl."
And I am moving then, my paralysis broken, moving faster than I ever
have in my life. I can see Ranma fighting desperately against Cologne,
trying to make his way to Akane. Happosai has grown distracted by the
female wedding guests, as nearby Soun and Genma take turns battering Kuno
back and forth between them. Ukyou is wrapping Kodachi up in her own
ribbon. No one can stop this but me; I must do the thing that I find most
awful in the world. I must lift my hand against my only love, that two
lives may be saved. In this moment, I can see what she has become, what
her obsession for Ranma has led her to be, and I hate and despise what that
thing is, but I cannot hate and despise her, no, not ever could I do that.
I plow into Shampoo from the side, knocking her tumbling across the
floor and away from Akane and Akari. We roll together on the ground, her
weapons battering against me as she shrieks in rage. I come up, barely
dodging a swing that smashes a nearby table to splinters of wood.
"DAMN YOU MOUSSE!" she screams in Chinese. "DAMN YOU TO A THOUSAND
HELLS! NO MAN IS MORE LOATHSOME IN MY SIGHT THAN YOU!"
I do not respond, but I feel the tears begin to slide down my face at
her words. I drop into a fighting stance, bringing forth from my sleeves
the least lethal weapon I have, a long staff shod at the tips with iron.
She rushes me, but it is as if she is moving in slow motion. I see
all the clumsiness of her technique, how she has let the rage and hatred
consume her and destroy her skill, and destroy for now the woman I love.
The staff comes up once, rapping hard across her wrist as she swings.
She cries out in pain and looses her grip on the bonbori, but recovers
quickly and brings the other one around in a blow that is fully intended to
smash my head open and leave me dead upon the ground. I dodge, and it
shatters the dojo floor, destroying the lacquered, polished wood. I ram
the staff into her hand and she releases the other bonbori. A single kick
from me sends it rolling across the floor out of her reach. I slide the
staff back into my sleeve and get into an unarmed stance.
"Shampoo," I say gently. "It does not have to end like this."
She leaps for me, her hands twisted into claws, no longer a warrior,
simply a girl consumed by hatred and jealousy. A single punch to the jaw
sends her staggering unconscious to the floor. I want only to fall to my
knees and weep for what I have done, but I cannot do that. What if Cologne
has managed to defeat Ranma in the time I have taken with Shampoo? She
will not hesitate to kill Akane in an instant.
I look back; I need not worry. Ranma, his battle aura flaring about
him in a corona of light, finishes smashing Cologne backward into the dojo
wall with a flurry of kicks faster than my eye can follow. He seizes her
staff and breaks it over her head in a single motion. Cologne is not
moving; Ranma rushes to Akane's side.
"AKANE!" he shouts. "ARE YOU OKAY?"
"Yes, Ranma," she says. "I'm fine. Akari's hurt badly, though."
"Shampoo..." Ranma growls, standing to his feet. He stands over her
where she lies fallen at my feet, looking as if he will break every code of
honour and slay an unconscious foe. I place myself in front of him.
"Please, Ranma," I say, knowing he can defeat me faster than I can
blink. "She did not mean..."
"HOW CAN YOU DEFEND HER!" Ranma screams into my face. "AFTER WHAT
SHE'S DONE, HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY DEFEND HER?"
"I love her," I say quietly.
"HOW COULD ANYONE LOVE HER? SHE WAS READY TO KILL TWO PEOPLE!" he
yells. He looks as if he is seconds away from striking me.
"Cologne has filled her mind with these thoughts... this is not the
Shampoo I know," I say.
"THE SHAMPOO YOU KNOW IS GONE!" Ranma yells. "GODDAMIT, MOUSSE, SHE
DOESN'T DESERVE LOVE!"
I hear a sobbing from behind me. Shampoo is awake now, and I know she
has heard every word Ranma has said.
"Ranma..." she says, her crying choking her voice. "I so sorry..."
"Get out of my sight," Ranma says, disgust and loathing in his voice.
"I never want to see you again."
Cologne presses a point on his neck and he goes weak and limp, sagging
forward. I catch him, and his body gets in the way of her doing the same
to me. I stagger away, holding him up by the arms.
"Give him to me, Mousse," Cologne says. "He is Shampoo's husband."
"He is whoever's husband he chooses to be," I say, knowing that I will
most likely be dead soon. "Take Shampoo and go Cologne. Go back to
China."
"You weak, stupid man," Cologne says, her voice dripping with disgust.
"You would think to order a matriarch of the Amazon's about like chattel?"
"Get out, Cologne," says a voice from behind us. Happosai stands
there. "You tricked me. You said nothing of any killing. I will have no
part of this."
"Then have no part," Cologne says. "Go out and chase your panties,
you old fool."
"Where is the Cologne I knew years ago?" Happosai says.
"Long gone, and gone for the better," Cologne says.
"Get out of my house," Soun Tendo says, his voice quavering with fear,
but also filled with determination. Genma stands beside him, his jaw tight
and eyes narrowed. Ryoga staggers up, rubbing his head. Ukyou, her
spatula ready.
"You cannot fight us all, Cologne-chan," Happosai says. "Go, Cologne.
Go away and do not return. We will have no more pain caused by you."
"Do not call me that," Cologne hisses. Shampoo staggers to her feet.
"Great-grandmother," she says. "We beaten. Let's go."
"Would you leave your husband behind?" Cologne hisses. "Have I taught
you nothing?"
"He not Shampoo's husband," Shampoo says. She turns to look at me.
"Mousse... you beat Shampoo... you..."
"Go, Shampoo," I say. "Get out of here."
Cologne walks back towards the hole she came in from. Shampoo follows
wearily behind her great-grandmother, her shoulders slumped in defeat.
Cologne turns to look at me, pointing with her finger.
"Mousse of the Amazon Tribe," she says. "You are no longer an Amazon.
You are welcome no longer in our village. You have no people, no family
anymore. Your parents no longer have a son; your siblings no longer have a
brother."
I stare right back at Cologne, but say nothing. She turns and leaves,
Shampoo with her. That was the last time I would see either of them ever
again until this day, when Shampoo arrived on the doorsteps of the house of
those who became my family.
Now that I look at her again, I see she is not quite as I had
imagined. I had not thought there would be the scar across her forehead,
that cannot be hid even by her hair, still that unique lustrous colour,
with all the blues of the sea and sky within it. I did not expect that
there would be such a haunted look within her eyes.
"Mousse," Shampoo says in Chinese. "You... you look so handsome."
I want to say how beautiful she is, cry it to the world, weep with joy
at her arrival. Then I remember the people behind me, my dearest friends
in the world. Two of those friends nearly lost their lives, and another
two nearly lost their loves, and all of us nearly lost the child who is, I
see now, the reason that all I did was worth it. Little Atsuko is the
child I will never have, but in some way, I was responsible for her being
in this world.
"I think you should go," I say instead. "Go back to your tribe and to
Cologne."
"I... I cannot," she says, speaking in Chinese still. How long has it
been since she last heard or spoke Japanese? I speak it often, along with
several languages I am moderately fluent in. "Great-grandmother is dead.
I am no longer a member of the Amazon tribe."
"I have not been a member for ten years," I say. I realize that I
have rehearsed these conversations, where I finally meet her again, a
thousand times within my mind, but in none of them did I speak to her like
this. Seeing her before me now, lost and broken like I was, I realize that
she is not some goddess; she is a human being like I, with all the flaws
and beauty that come with that. I realize Ranma was right; the Shampoo I
know, or thought I knew, is gone. Perhaps she never existed at all,
except within my own heart.
"There was a coup," she says. "The old guard of the council and their
supporters have been destroyed. Those who were willing to trade sides were
spared; as the heir to great-grandmother's position, I was given the
choice to leave or be executed."
"How long ago was that?" I ask.
"Two years," Shampoo said. "I heard about about Ranma and Akane's
child. I've had time to think over the years, and-"
"Mousse, who is it at the door?" Kasumi says. "You've been out here
for an awfully long time."
I turn back to see Kasumi seeming frozen behind me, her face set into
a tight, blank expression. "I'm sorry, Kasumi. I will be back in a few
minutes," I say. I step outside the house and close the door behind me.
"I wanted to say to them," Shampoo says. "That I was sorry. That
what I did was not the actions of an honourable warrior. But I couldn't
find the courage, until now. I... It's all in here."
She thrust the package into my arms. "Please give that to Ranma and
Akane. I... I cannot face them. I have done too much hurt to them, to all
of you. And I have hurt you worst of all. I was just going to leave it on
the doorstep, but then I saw you through the window, and..."
"Shampoo..." I say. "I... I'm only here until the day after tomorrow.
I can give you money for a hotel, and..."
"Mousse, Mousse. Darling Mousse," she says her eyes shimmering. "How
long have you thought that it was all because you were not worthy of me?
The truth is, I was never worthy of you. How long have you gone without
love, clinging to the image of a girl you created of all that is good in
me, leaving out so much that is bad?"
"Shampoo, I love you. I've always loved-"
"You don't love me, Mousse. You love what you believe me to be," she
says sadly. "I wish I was the girl you loved, Mousse. But I'm not, and I
never can be now. I have done too much wrong."
"It is never too late for forgiveness," I say. "I forgive you,
Shampoo. Ranma and the others will forgive you. It was Cologne who led
you astray-"
"Mousse, when will you stop blaming others for what is my fault? You
blame yourself and Ranma that I did not love you. You blame
great-grandmother for what I became. But I let myself become that; she did
not force me," Shampoo says.
"But I forgive you," I say. "You can change."
Shampoo shakes her head. "But I cannot forgive myself. Until the day
I can, I must go. Perhaps one day, we will meet again."
"I will wait for it," I promise. "I will wait for it for as long as I
have to."
"Mousse, I want you to make me a promise," Shampoo says.
"Anything, anything," I say. My heart fills with joy; I can please
her. I can do something for her.
"Promise me that you will not avoid any chance for happiness because
of this shadow-me you keep within yourself," she says. "Do not deny
yourself a chance for love."
"There is no love in me but for you," I say.
"Because I am the only one worthy, or because you will not allow there
to be?" Shampoo says. I know what the answer is; I have known it for
years. But hearing it from her somehow allows me more freedom than I have
felt in ten long years. I am free now, I realize. The shadow-her is not
within me any longer, for the real-her before me has dispelled its presence
forever.
"I must go now Mousse," Shampoo says.
"Where?" I say. "How do you make a living?"
"There is always room in this world for those who can fight," she
says. "The weapons were different than those I know, but I have learned
fast."
I try to think of some reply. I could offer her money, say I could
support her, but I know she would reject it.
"Goodbye, Mousse," she says. She reaches out her arms and wraps them
around my waist, resting herself against me as I wrap my arms around her
neck and hold her close. What pains has she known in these ten years?
What sorrows, what tragedies? Perhaps one day, I will know.
She pulls away finally. "Remember your promise. Find all the
happiness you deserve in this world."
And then she is gone, running down the street, long hair waving behind
her. Gone from my life once again, but I am left with some joy this time
to take the place of the sorrow I felt ten years ago when she walked from
my life. Inside the house are those who I call family in every sense of
the word but one. My brothers, my sisters, their children. All of them
who have given me their friendship and love down through the years. Inside
the package is Shampoo's apology; I know not what it is. I feel as if a
great weight has been lifted from me.
I turn the handle of the door and walk inside, making my way down
towards the dining room, where my family awaits me.
THE END
Nor, perchance,
If I were not thus taught, should I the more
Suffer my genial spirits to decay:
For thou art with me, here, upon the banks
Of this fair river; thou, my dearest Friend,
My dear, dear Friend, in thy voice I catch
The language of my former heart, and read
My former pleasures in the shooting lights
Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while
May I behold in thee what I was once,
My dear, dear Sister! And this pray I make,
Knowing that Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercouse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our chearful faith that all which we behold
Is full of blessings.
-William Wordsworth, "Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey."
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