Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Symphony ❯ Finale ( Chapter 1 )
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: SaotomeRanchan 
Anime/Manga: Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 08.25.2001 | Pages: 4 | Words: 2.1K | Visits: 694 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 08.25.2001 | Pages: 4 | Words: 2.1K | Visits: 694 | Status: Completed
Finale
A Ranma 1/2 fanfiction by SaotomeRanchan
saotomeranchan@allaboutranma.com
http://www.all aboutranma.com/fanfics/
Ranma 1/2 is a creation of Takahashi Rumiko. Rights to
Ranma 1/2 belong to Takahashi-san, Shogakukan, Kitty, Viz,
and countless other entities with the power to sue me for
borrowing them for a little while. Please don't -- I'm a starving,
penniless otaku!
This story takes place approximately one decade after the
manga timeline, in a slightly divergent Ranmaverse.
Author's notes to follow.
***************
She signed the divorce papers today.
They tell me she didn't shed any tears when she picked up
the pen and scrawled her name on the documents that
ended life, as she'd known it, for the past 10 years. As
always, when faced with adversity, she met it with courage,
regardless of the fact that, inside, her heart was shattering.
I'd known this day would come eventually, although I kept
my thoughts to myself. After all, I'd been engaged to her
once -- I had a strong bias toward wishing her free of this
marriage. But even if I hadn't ever been in love with her, I
knew that the two of them were woefully mismatched. As her
friend, however, all I could do was hope she'd find
happiness in her new life.
I wish now that I'd had the courage to speak up then, to keep
her from the pain she undoubtedly feels now. But putting my
feelings into words wasn't my strong suit back then.
Her family had tried their best to dissuade her from her
chosen path. Her father flat out objected to the pairing,
reminding her she already had a fiance -- me -- and pointing
out how different she and her intended were. Where she
was outspoken and outgoing, he kept pretty much to
himself. Where she excelled at almost everything she put
effort into, he was set in his ways, unwilling to try something
new. Where she had many devoted friends, he had few.
None, perhaps.
Apparently, his family protested as well. His father pointedly
reminded him that by marrying her, he was forsaking
centuries of family tradition -- never mind that this heritage
descended through the female side. He was too young to
consider marriage, untried in the ways of the world. His sister,
who as always was too narcissistically involved in her own
life to pay much attention to her brother's, merely stated that
he was free to ruin his life in whichever means he desired.
They ignored the outcry, however. They were in love.
*****
I can't really pinpoint when her affection turned from me to
him. In a way, I was relieved. I was always on eggshells,
afraid I'd say the wrong thing, use the wrong tone of voice,
and end up in yet another physical altercation. As she grew
more and more attached to him, her anger toward me flared
up less and less, eventually disappearing completely,
leaving me with a sweet, caring friend who was easy to talk
to, easy to get along with.
I hated the changes.
It was surprising to discover that I missed the arguments and
the subsequent blows. I had always protested our
engagement, after all. We'd been forced into it, for starters.
She was violent, refused to listen to reason, and was
completely stubborn. I was easy going, laid back, adapting
quickly to new situations. And so I adapted to this one, by
going on an extended training trip and making myself scarce.
I was in Korea when the letter came that officially ended our
engagement. She wrote, telling me that she would always
love me as a friend, but that she loved him more and that
they planned to marry. She hoped that, for the sake of our
friendship, I would understand.
That was the first time I ever incinerated anything with my ki
by simply holding it.
A note from her eldest sister soon followed. She was so
sorry about the way things had turned out, it said. In the
family's eyes, I was still the real fiance and always welcome
in their house. Things that were meant to make me feel
better instead shredded my soul.
*****
I attended the wedding, of course. By that point, I was a
minor player, shunted off to the back of the crowd of guests,
present only because of our past ties. She looked stunning.
Beautiful. And happy. I'd never seen her so radiant before,
and I hoped it foretold of a joyous married life.
It didn't, of course. His father's opposition to their union
separated him from the unlimited source of funds he'd grown
up with, and he'd had to find a job suited to his rather narrow
education. Not much was available locally, though, and
shortly after little Mikaru was born, he packed her and the
baby up and headed to Hokkaido, away from her family, her
friends, the life she had known.
She never did fit in there. Occasionally, I'd get a letter telling
me about the quaint local customs, the refreshing contrast of
her new hometown with Nerima. The letters reeked with her
insincerity.
After Niko was born, she found a dojo and began training
again. I was surprised and pleased to hear this, although I
suspected that she attended classes more out of loneliness
than out of any desire to improve in the Art.
Just as she finally began making friends and feeling more
comfortable, he dragged everyone to Kansai for another
new job. It was much closer to home, but she resented the
change, resented being treated like a piece of furniture.
Finding another dojo, she spent more and more time there,
getting out her pent-up aggressions, fueling her forms with
her anger, powering her sparring techniques with her
unhappiness. She improved dramatically, but her home
life faded away.
I wish I knew why things deteriorated between the two of
them. It couldn't have just been the moves. I'd moved
countless times around the country and it had never affected
me. There had to be more. But, as time passed, her letters
stopped coming. I tried asking her family how she was
doing, but she rarely communicated with them, either. And as
much as I wanted to find out *his* side of the story, I knew my
overtures would be unwelcome. Besides, the two of us had
never gotten along, anyway.
So I went on with my life, thinking of her and the children from
time to time, hoping they were all right, knowing that as an
outsider I had no right to intrude upon their marriage.
I wish I had.
*****
A couple of months ago, the phone rang late in the evening.
It was her, almost incoherent through her sobs. They'd had
an argument, in front of the children, no less. He'd lost his
temper, lost his control. Her nose was shattered and
bleeding all over the place. Could I help?
I would have roof-hopped to Kansai if it had been possible.
I had to settle for the much slower train.
When I arrived at her house, he was gone, led off in
handcuffs by the police, his broken bokken taken as
evidence. The children were cowering in their room, and she
sat in a heap on the kitchen floor, blood-soaked tissues all
around her. I gently gathered her in my arms and let her cry
out her years of misery on my shoulder. Holding her close, I
was shocked to feel as though I'd found the piece of my life
that had been missing for so long. I wished it hadn't been
found at such a high price.
When she was calmer, I checked in on the children -- asleep
in Mikaru's bed, huddled together for comfort. I then called
her family to let them know what had happened. Her sisters
told me they'd be on the next train out, once they restrained
their raging father.
*****
At the hospital, the police came to take her statement about
the incident. They asked me to leave, but she refused to let
go of my hand. So I sat there silently, listening to her heart-
wrenching story, tears coming unbidden to my eyes as I
learned the details of what should have been a happy life. I
remained by her side as the doctors treated her, as the
representatives from the domestic violence group visited, as
she finally fell asleep, exhausted by her anguish.
*****
He was released the next day. Uniformed officers
accompanied him to the house so that he could gather a few
personal belongings. His eyes widened briefly when he
saw me, then went flat as what little life remained in them
drained out completely. I don't know what he was thinking.
I can only guess that the presence of his former rival at
the hour of his utmost despair and humiliation convinced him
he had reached the point of no return.
*****
Over the next few days, I became reacquainted with my
friend, my former fiancee, the woman I had loved ... and,
apparently, always had. I found it difficult to equate the
vibrant, spirited girl from my past with the broken, withdrawn
woman beside me. Her eyes, blackened from his blows,
were haunted, empty, dazed from shock. Although she
constantly checked to make sure I hadn't left her alone, she
rarely spoke. She cried rivers, though. I guess that runs in the
family.
Eventually, she began to open up, to ask for my advice, to
look to me for guidance. It shook me to see how uncertain
and skittish she'd become. I wanted nothing more than to
shelter her, to keep her safe from harm. But I kept what I
wanted inside me, especially the fact that I wanted *her*.
*****
At the prosecutor's suggestion, she and the boys sought out
counseling. She was deeply afraid that the children would be
traumatized by this, that it would color them for life. I, in
turn, was afraid of what would happen down the road. The trial
would begin in a few weeks, and it was my understanding
that he intended to plead innocent, using self-defense as his
excuse.
In truth, his callousness and self-interest weren't surprising.
He'd been like that throughout high school. But now, instead
of chasing her and constantly proclaiming his love, he was
planning on dragging her through the mud, exposing her
publicly as a violent maniac, depicting her in the worst
possible light ... just so his record remained unsullied.
She agonized over this, I know. Even though he had
physically injured her, had betrayed her trust, had broken his
vow to always love and protect her, she still didn't want to
hurt him. He is the boys' father, she explained. They love
him, and he loves them. She didn't want to ruin their
perception of their dad -- even though he had no qualms
about doing the same to her. I wondered when she had
become so selfless.
In the end, he sealed his own fate. Just days before jury
selection began, he had his lawyer draw up several motions:
one requesting her delinquency records from Furinkan, and
two others for her and my medical records. He hoped to
prove with these that his wife was extremely aggressive
and prone to thoughtlessly injuring people -- namely me -- at
the drop of a hat. He subpoenaed me to testify to this.
Subpoenas were also sent out to several of our high school
classmates, teachers, and even to a couple of restaurant
owners of our acquaintance. He was going for blood.
Unfortunately for him, it was blood of the past. She was no
longer the stubborn, whack-happy, unreasonable girl of her
youth, due in a large part to her relationship with him. She
had learned to handle her anger, to accept what she couldn't
change, to adapt, and to move on. And she recognized that
it was, indeed, time to move on.
*****
I stayed with the boys while she went to sign the papers.
Her sisters accompanied her, providing her with the moral
support I yearned to give but realized was inappropriate
considering the circumstances. When she returned, she
looked as if a huge weight had been lifted from her
shoulders. There was a spark in those deep brown eyes,
and a tired smile tugged at her lips.
"It's over," she told me, a tear escaping her eye.
I gathered her into my arms and gently kissed her forehead.
"No, Akane," I replied. "It's finally begun."
***************
06/07/01
Autho r's notes:
I began writing this at 2 in the morning, unable to sleep. The
story just flowed out of me, as if it had to be told. In a way,
it's a crossover with my life. It's dedicated to my ex-fiances
and to my sons, Michael and Nicholas.
I sign my divorce papers this afternoon.
*****
C&C welcome at SaotomeRanchan@allaboutranma.com.
No flames, please -- I'm more sensitive than Tendo Soun!
A Ranma 1/2 fanfiction by SaotomeRanchan
saotomeranchan@allaboutranma.com
http://www.all aboutranma.com/fanfics/
Ranma 1/2 is a creation of Takahashi Rumiko. Rights to
Ranma 1/2 belong to Takahashi-san, Shogakukan, Kitty, Viz,
and countless other entities with the power to sue me for
borrowing them for a little while. Please don't -- I'm a starving,
penniless otaku!
This story takes place approximately one decade after the
manga timeline, in a slightly divergent Ranmaverse.
Author's notes to follow.
***************
She signed the divorce papers today.
They tell me she didn't shed any tears when she picked up
the pen and scrawled her name on the documents that
ended life, as she'd known it, for the past 10 years. As
always, when faced with adversity, she met it with courage,
regardless of the fact that, inside, her heart was shattering.
I'd known this day would come eventually, although I kept
my thoughts to myself. After all, I'd been engaged to her
once -- I had a strong bias toward wishing her free of this
marriage. But even if I hadn't ever been in love with her, I
knew that the two of them were woefully mismatched. As her
friend, however, all I could do was hope she'd find
happiness in her new life.
I wish now that I'd had the courage to speak up then, to keep
her from the pain she undoubtedly feels now. But putting my
feelings into words wasn't my strong suit back then.
Her family had tried their best to dissuade her from her
chosen path. Her father flat out objected to the pairing,
reminding her she already had a fiance -- me -- and pointing
out how different she and her intended were. Where she
was outspoken and outgoing, he kept pretty much to
himself. Where she excelled at almost everything she put
effort into, he was set in his ways, unwilling to try something
new. Where she had many devoted friends, he had few.
None, perhaps.
Apparently, his family protested as well. His father pointedly
reminded him that by marrying her, he was forsaking
centuries of family tradition -- never mind that this heritage
descended through the female side. He was too young to
consider marriage, untried in the ways of the world. His sister,
who as always was too narcissistically involved in her own
life to pay much attention to her brother's, merely stated that
he was free to ruin his life in whichever means he desired.
They ignored the outcry, however. They were in love.
*****
I can't really pinpoint when her affection turned from me to
him. In a way, I was relieved. I was always on eggshells,
afraid I'd say the wrong thing, use the wrong tone of voice,
and end up in yet another physical altercation. As she grew
more and more attached to him, her anger toward me flared
up less and less, eventually disappearing completely,
leaving me with a sweet, caring friend who was easy to talk
to, easy to get along with.
I hated the changes.
It was surprising to discover that I missed the arguments and
the subsequent blows. I had always protested our
engagement, after all. We'd been forced into it, for starters.
She was violent, refused to listen to reason, and was
completely stubborn. I was easy going, laid back, adapting
quickly to new situations. And so I adapted to this one, by
going on an extended training trip and making myself scarce.
I was in Korea when the letter came that officially ended our
engagement. She wrote, telling me that she would always
love me as a friend, but that she loved him more and that
they planned to marry. She hoped that, for the sake of our
friendship, I would understand.
That was the first time I ever incinerated anything with my ki
by simply holding it.
A note from her eldest sister soon followed. She was so
sorry about the way things had turned out, it said. In the
family's eyes, I was still the real fiance and always welcome
in their house. Things that were meant to make me feel
better instead shredded my soul.
*****
I attended the wedding, of course. By that point, I was a
minor player, shunted off to the back of the crowd of guests,
present only because of our past ties. She looked stunning.
Beautiful. And happy. I'd never seen her so radiant before,
and I hoped it foretold of a joyous married life.
It didn't, of course. His father's opposition to their union
separated him from the unlimited source of funds he'd grown
up with, and he'd had to find a job suited to his rather narrow
education. Not much was available locally, though, and
shortly after little Mikaru was born, he packed her and the
baby up and headed to Hokkaido, away from her family, her
friends, the life she had known.
She never did fit in there. Occasionally, I'd get a letter telling
me about the quaint local customs, the refreshing contrast of
her new hometown with Nerima. The letters reeked with her
insincerity.
After Niko was born, she found a dojo and began training
again. I was surprised and pleased to hear this, although I
suspected that she attended classes more out of loneliness
than out of any desire to improve in the Art.
Just as she finally began making friends and feeling more
comfortable, he dragged everyone to Kansai for another
new job. It was much closer to home, but she resented the
change, resented being treated like a piece of furniture.
Finding another dojo, she spent more and more time there,
getting out her pent-up aggressions, fueling her forms with
her anger, powering her sparring techniques with her
unhappiness. She improved dramatically, but her home
life faded away.
I wish I knew why things deteriorated between the two of
them. It couldn't have just been the moves. I'd moved
countless times around the country and it had never affected
me. There had to be more. But, as time passed, her letters
stopped coming. I tried asking her family how she was
doing, but she rarely communicated with them, either. And as
much as I wanted to find out *his* side of the story, I knew my
overtures would be unwelcome. Besides, the two of us had
never gotten along, anyway.
So I went on with my life, thinking of her and the children from
time to time, hoping they were all right, knowing that as an
outsider I had no right to intrude upon their marriage.
I wish I had.
*****
A couple of months ago, the phone rang late in the evening.
It was her, almost incoherent through her sobs. They'd had
an argument, in front of the children, no less. He'd lost his
temper, lost his control. Her nose was shattered and
bleeding all over the place. Could I help?
I would have roof-hopped to Kansai if it had been possible.
I had to settle for the much slower train.
When I arrived at her house, he was gone, led off in
handcuffs by the police, his broken bokken taken as
evidence. The children were cowering in their room, and she
sat in a heap on the kitchen floor, blood-soaked tissues all
around her. I gently gathered her in my arms and let her cry
out her years of misery on my shoulder. Holding her close, I
was shocked to feel as though I'd found the piece of my life
that had been missing for so long. I wished it hadn't been
found at such a high price.
When she was calmer, I checked in on the children -- asleep
in Mikaru's bed, huddled together for comfort. I then called
her family to let them know what had happened. Her sisters
told me they'd be on the next train out, once they restrained
their raging father.
*****
At the hospital, the police came to take her statement about
the incident. They asked me to leave, but she refused to let
go of my hand. So I sat there silently, listening to her heart-
wrenching story, tears coming unbidden to my eyes as I
learned the details of what should have been a happy life. I
remained by her side as the doctors treated her, as the
representatives from the domestic violence group visited, as
she finally fell asleep, exhausted by her anguish.
*****
He was released the next day. Uniformed officers
accompanied him to the house so that he could gather a few
personal belongings. His eyes widened briefly when he
saw me, then went flat as what little life remained in them
drained out completely. I don't know what he was thinking.
I can only guess that the presence of his former rival at
the hour of his utmost despair and humiliation convinced him
he had reached the point of no return.
*****
Over the next few days, I became reacquainted with my
friend, my former fiancee, the woman I had loved ... and,
apparently, always had. I found it difficult to equate the
vibrant, spirited girl from my past with the broken, withdrawn
woman beside me. Her eyes, blackened from his blows,
were haunted, empty, dazed from shock. Although she
constantly checked to make sure I hadn't left her alone, she
rarely spoke. She cried rivers, though. I guess that runs in the
family.
Eventually, she began to open up, to ask for my advice, to
look to me for guidance. It shook me to see how uncertain
and skittish she'd become. I wanted nothing more than to
shelter her, to keep her safe from harm. But I kept what I
wanted inside me, especially the fact that I wanted *her*.
*****
At the prosecutor's suggestion, she and the boys sought out
counseling. She was deeply afraid that the children would be
traumatized by this, that it would color them for life. I, in
turn, was afraid of what would happen down the road. The trial
would begin in a few weeks, and it was my understanding
that he intended to plead innocent, using self-defense as his
excuse.
In truth, his callousness and self-interest weren't surprising.
He'd been like that throughout high school. But now, instead
of chasing her and constantly proclaiming his love, he was
planning on dragging her through the mud, exposing her
publicly as a violent maniac, depicting her in the worst
possible light ... just so his record remained unsullied.
She agonized over this, I know. Even though he had
physically injured her, had betrayed her trust, had broken his
vow to always love and protect her, she still didn't want to
hurt him. He is the boys' father, she explained. They love
him, and he loves them. She didn't want to ruin their
perception of their dad -- even though he had no qualms
about doing the same to her. I wondered when she had
become so selfless.
In the end, he sealed his own fate. Just days before jury
selection began, he had his lawyer draw up several motions:
one requesting her delinquency records from Furinkan, and
two others for her and my medical records. He hoped to
prove with these that his wife was extremely aggressive
and prone to thoughtlessly injuring people -- namely me -- at
the drop of a hat. He subpoenaed me to testify to this.
Subpoenas were also sent out to several of our high school
classmates, teachers, and even to a couple of restaurant
owners of our acquaintance. He was going for blood.
Unfortunately for him, it was blood of the past. She was no
longer the stubborn, whack-happy, unreasonable girl of her
youth, due in a large part to her relationship with him. She
had learned to handle her anger, to accept what she couldn't
change, to adapt, and to move on. And she recognized that
it was, indeed, time to move on.
*****
I stayed with the boys while she went to sign the papers.
Her sisters accompanied her, providing her with the moral
support I yearned to give but realized was inappropriate
considering the circumstances. When she returned, she
looked as if a huge weight had been lifted from her
shoulders. There was a spark in those deep brown eyes,
and a tired smile tugged at her lips.
"It's over," she told me, a tear escaping her eye.
I gathered her into my arms and gently kissed her forehead.
"No, Akane," I replied. "It's finally begun."
***************
06/07/01
Autho r's notes:
I began writing this at 2 in the morning, unable to sleep. The
story just flowed out of me, as if it had to be told. In a way,
it's a crossover with my life. It's dedicated to my ex-fiances
and to my sons, Michael and Nicholas.
I sign my divorce papers this afternoon.
*****
C&C welcome at SaotomeRanchan@allaboutranma.com.
No flames, please -- I'm more sensitive than Tendo Soun!