Quick bit of notice: While titled Chapter 1, this is in fact the second
installation of "Ryoga's Quest" (title subject to change when I think of
something better). The first part is the Prologue, and it is available at
http://www.tass.org/fanfic/ranma.ryogas-quest
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter One
He awoke peacefully, the light of the newly risen sun breaking through the
haze of semiconsciousness. He stood up and stretched, feeling the breath of
the morning air soothe his sore muscles. He paused after a moment to take in
the yet sleeping form of his youthful wife.
She lay slumbering beside his recently vacated half of the bed. Even after
nearly six months, he still found himself breathless at the sight of her gentle
body as she slept. He could not imagine anything more perfect than the look of
complete peace of the soul that pervaded her slumbering presence.
He admired her form, the just-right curves and pretty face, framed by the
long, dark hair that so perfectly set off her slightly pale complexion. Never
before meeting her, had he even imagined that he would have found someone so
traditional and elegant to love.
A smile broke upon his lips as his mind drifted to the memories of his
proposal to her, and their Western-style wedding. He could still feel his
hands shaking uncontrollably as he drew the miniscule box that contained all
his hopes, dreams and feelings from his pocket and presented it to her.
The wide grin that had answered him had set his heart aflutter. Her
delight was more than evident in the strong embrace she grasped him with,
hugging her fiance with all of her might, as if she were afraid that it had all
been a dream of which she was frightened to release.
They had married on a rainy spring afternoon in the Tendo Dojo. He had told
Ranma about the engagement more out of a formality than anything else, but was
surprised to discover his rival's great willingness to help him out. Since his
own marriage to Akane the year earlier, he had inherited the Dojo as their
parents had wished. Eager to help Ryoga along, he offered the Dojo for the
ceremony as a gesture of good faith to put the past behind them.
Shocked beyond words, he accepted and begged Ranma to be his best man, to
stand with him as he took the vows he had been awaiting for so long. Ranma
agreed, and the ceremony was a wonderful event.
Fearful of getting lost, Ryoga had spent the entirety of the final week
prior to the ceremony at the home of his beloved. So in love were they, that
all of the cares and troubles that they had faced seemed forever and a day ago.
Ryoga paused in his musings to think about Ranma. He had never really
figured out how to classify Ranma. They had been at times friends, enemies,
rivals, and saviors. Since the day that Ranma had proposed, and Akane's
acceptance was certain, they had actually grown a bit closer.
In the weeks after the marriage of the Tendo and Saotome families, Ranma
opened the dojo to students. That first day saw a flood of students, for there
was not a man, woman or child in Tokyo in those days that had not heard of the
superhuman exploits of the man-god Ranma Tendo, as he had chosen to take the
name of his wife.
Ryoga chuckled as he remembered that story. Genma had been furious, going
on about this bit of honor and that bit of pride. Ranma stood firm in his
decision, and ultimately he was granted his wish. Nodoka stood by her son,
proud of his choice.
Shortly after the dojo opened, Ryoga found his way back to Nerima, and
visited to see how the young lovers were faring. Instead, he found himself
drafted into instructing some of the more advanced students, those that had
studied before in some manner.
Accepting the Tendos' offer, he moved into the room that had once been
occupied by Ranma and his father, who had moved back in with his wife in their
newly restored home across town. His days had been spent mostly avoiding the
more difficult portions of his life while training and training with the young
students.
Ryoga frowned. He had put it outside of his mind for quite some time now,
but every once in a while, his mind strayed to the memory of the time when he
had been cursed. He had always hated, and secretly envied, Ranma. His rival
had also been cursed at Jusenkyou, but unlike Ryoga, he had been cursed in
body alone.
Ever since that horrible day, Ryoga had known that something had twisted in
his mind. He had never again been able to guide himself anywhere beyond the
range of his gaze. Whatever had been done to him in the Valley of Waters had
left his mind broken, a pale shadow of its former self.
The lack of direction paled in comparison to the knowledge that he had lost
his memory as well. Without knowing how he knew, Ryoga felt in him a great
certainty that something of great importance had occurred on that day, prior to
his curse. Something that he could never put his finger on. Only in his
blackest of nightmares did he ever catch a glimpse of that memory, but it faded
more quickly than it had come to him.
For all that Ranma had done for him in the past, he had all but forgotten
his quest for revenge. His pig transformation was no longer alien to him, and
all those that he cared for knew and respected him still. Nevertheless, he was
never quite able to let go of his hatred over losing his directional sense. It
was that hatred that had brought him to this stage of life, forcing him to quest
after Ranma, yearning to avenge his honor.
He knew, in his deepest heart, that Ranma was not truly responsible. But it
was so much easier, it always had been, to throw the blame onto a tangible
enemy, to create a villain that he could vanquish, to ease his mind. He knew
that he never had been forced to track the pair to Jusenkyou. His memories were
clear and true on that point. His journey to the Valley of Waters was entirely
of his own design.
Ryoga shook his head. There was no point in dredging up old memories, tired
demons in the back of his mind. He looked again at the fairest of all the women
that he had ever laid eyes upon and smiled. Somehow, just her presence allowed
all of those demons to settle back into the shackles that he had prepared. Yet
again, Ryoga felt a welling of selfish pride in his heart as he wondrously
contemplated that this perfect bride should be his.
Pulling himself from the reverie of old men and poets, Ryoga stepped through
the single door of their bedroom. He guided himself to his bathroom, which his
wife had clearly marked for his benefit. Muttering a quick word of thanks to
her genius, Ryoga entered and prepared himself for his shower.
The warm water felt like silk upon his tired skin. It had been a long time
since anyone besides Ranma had given him a workout like his student yesterday.
Somehow, the boy had learned a speed technique of nearly equal magnitude to the
Katchu Tenshin Amaguriken that had marked the beginning of Ranma's surpassal of
Ryoga's skill. Sparring with the boy - Taren was his name - Ryoga found himself
enjoying the thrill of the fight for the first time since his wedding. Somehow,
in the thrill of married life, the Art had stopped calling to him as loudly as
it once had.
A scream tore him from his thoughts, a scream so shrill that it chilled the
young martial artist to the bones more thoroughly than any amount of cold water.
It was the scream of pleading, a scream that begged of mercy and certainty that
none was to be given.
Not caring in his state of dress, Ryoga shattered the door to the bathroom
with a Bakusai Tenketsu, not daring to pause long enough to turn the handle.
In the anteroom to their bedroom, Ryouga's mind raged. Pleading with any gods
that might hear him, he hoped that he chose the right portal to their room.
Tearing through the remains of yet another door, Ryoga gazed into the room
before him and froze. The sight that appeared before him tore into his mind.
Ryoga was never to forget the sight that he witnessed that morning. His - no
their - bed was torn apart, the air littered with tufts of down, floating upon
an updraft created by a broken window to one side.
All across the walls there were horrific designs, as if some neighborhood
child had taken it apon himself to try and decorate the room with red paint. The
sight of the blood was nearly unbearable to the shocked young man as he stood in
the doorway, but still he was as immovable as a stone.
Her body lay still upon the remains of the matress, her flesh a mess of torn
muscle and rended sinew. Her heart lay open to the air, and her face was frozen
in a look of utter hopelessness and fear. The long dark hair that had once so
perfectly set off her pale complexion now mocked him as it contrasted the white
nothingness of death settling her blood.
His mind snapped then. He no longer cared what happened to him, but he
threw himself through that window and peered about him, trying to discover what
form of beast or man could do such a thing. Tears flowed from his eyes though
he noticed it not. Neither did he notice the rain, nor his lack of change. The
rain sizzled as it neared him, turned to vapor by the field of raging ki that
surrounded his body, his hatred growing with every passing moment.
Something scuttled behind him, and he turned to meet it. In his state, he
did not even pause to consider the outright horror of the being before him. It
stood scarcely taller than Happousai. It's skin, if it truly was skin and not
some form of leather, was tightly wrapped to its bones. The creature had the
look of some starved child, for it's ribs and shoulder bones were plain to see.
It's rough skin was black as night, and seemed to change shades in a shifting
pattern that emanated from its feet to its skull, then back again.
It's skull was the most vile of all. It was vaguely human-shaped, but it
was possessed of three bulbous protrusions from the sides and forehead. It's
eyes were blacker than the rest of it, if such a thing were possible. They were
at the same time depthless and timeless, as well as dull and stupid.
It hissed at him, and he saw for the first time that it had not teeth in the
traditional sence, but instead a three deep line of solid razors. This was a
beast designed for tearing at its victims, as was evidenced by the trio of
inch-long blades that emanated from each the digits on each hand.
As it hissed, Ryoga saw its tongue, though just as black as the rest of the
beast, was tainted with a reddish brown hue. Upon closer inspection, he could
see the stains on the rows of brownish teeth-blades.
Ryoga's rage and despair grew greater than he had ever experienced before.
Unthinkingly, uncontrollably, he released his anger and hopelessness at once. A
greater blast was never before seen in the Age of Man, as Ryoga summoned the
power granted to him by the Shishi Hokodan.
Summoning the pillar of ki from the earth and sky, Ryoga extended a single
hand, a single finger. In that moment, he learned the true power of one who had
trained in both the Bakusai Tenketsu and the Shishi Hokodan. The Bakusai
Tenketsu required its user to focus a small, directed beam of ki into the very
heart of the stone. Ryoga drew upon all of the power of the Shishi Hokodan and
did very much the same thing.
Focusing that much sheer energy into a beam no larger around than its
intended victim's claw, the force of the energy arced into the beast, tearing
its way entirely through it. Not content to leave it at that, Ryoga guided the
beam, which was sustaining itself far longer than it had any right to, upwards,
splitting the vile creature entirely in half from midsection to forehead.
Though it never opened its mouth, the creature still screamed, a sound that
would have terrified even the most seasoned soldier. However, in his haze of
fury, Ryoga viewed the sound as a mockery of the shriek that it had not so long
ago caused in his beloved wife.
Covering the few meters to the corpse of the sickening mass before him,
Ryoga threw himself upon it, beating the remains into a mass of gray blood and
leathery skin. Whatever passed for bones in the monster were crushed to powder.
His mind a red haze, he picked himself up from the ground and ran. He would
never remember where or for how long, but he ran until he could not run any
longer. He collapsed upon the ground, his lips repeating the name of his beloved
over and over again. "Akari... AKARI..." his dry lips whispered, one final time.
He slept.
And he dreamed.
* * *
Flames writhed about him as if they were dancing to some unheard music.
They alternately leaned towards him and away, sometimes wrapping themselves
about him in a lover's embrace. It puzzled him that it did not burn, but he
could think of no answer.
Looking about, he could see nothing but fire in all directions, save above.
What looked to be hundreds of feet above him, he could see a swirling miasma of
black and purple clouds.
As he continued to watch, the distortion began to pulse and change shape.
>From all directions, he suddenly felt a presence. It was the aura of a being of
great power and knowledge.
Fear suddenly gripped his chest. He could feel the presence prodding him,
examining him. He felt as if he were being laid bare, his innermost self being
put on display for all to see. Shame and humiliation gripped him as he realized
that there was nothing he could do to prevent it.
As suddenly as the sensation had begun, it begun to pass away from him, like
a fire that was slowly fading to embers. Ryoga knew, without understanding,
that whatever it was that the presence was searching for, it had found it.
From all about, there came a horrifying sound of laughter. It was not the
same as the presence from before. The martial artist only realized slowly that
the laughter was coming from him. Fear again coursed through his blood, turning
his heart to ice. He couldn't stop the laughter. No matter how he tried, he
continued to laugh.
He continued to laugh...
* * *
"Strange fits of passion have I known:
And I will dare to tell,
But in the lover's ear alone,
What once to me befell.
When she I loved looked every day
Fresh as a rose in June,
I to her cottage bent my way,
Beneath an evening-moon.
Upon the moon I fixed my eye,
All over the wide lea;
With a quickening pace my horse drew nigh
Those paths so dear to me.
And now we reached the orchard-plot;
And, as we climbed the hill,
The sinking moon to Lucy's cot
Came near, and nearer still.
In one of the sweet dreams I slept,
Kind Nature's gentlest boon!
And all the while my eyes kept
On the descending moon.
My horse moved on; hoof after hoof
He raised, and never stopped:
When down behind the cottage roof,
At once, the bright moon dropped.
What fond and wayward thoughts will slide
Into a lover's head!
"O Mercy!" to myself I cried,
"If Lucy should be dead!"
--William Wordsworth "Strange Fits of Passion Have I Known"
Author's Notes:
Well, this chapter was long in coming, and more are on their way. I
sincerely apologize to all the Ryoga/Akari enthusiasts out there, but I want you
to know that I'm one of you. I firmly believe that Akari is the best one for
Ryoga. However, for the purposes of the advancement of this story, it was
necessary. Ryoga is alone, his world shattered; his mind little better.
I think that it is probably necessary that I make note that I am not an
utterly heartless bastard (I'll leave that to my betters, such as Alan Harnum
and Chris Willmore)
It seems to be something of a tradition to list the music listened to while
writing, so I might as well follow suit.
Savatage - Streets: A Rock Opera
Pink Floyd - The Wall
Pink Floyd - Dark Side of the Moon
Also, I want to say that I am really enjoying writing this story, as dark as
it is right now. My writing is often influenced by my life that exists outside,
and writing these things serves to express my own troubles and faults in a far
more socially tolerable way than getting into a barfight ^_^
Yet one more thing: I want to credit the truly magnificent author that came
up with my pen name. The name Talon Karrde was taken from a character in the
trilogy of Star Wars novels penned by Timothy Zahn, perhaps one of the great
science fiction writers of our time. I aspire to write as he does (though my
style is a great deal different), and it is with that respect that I use this
pen name.
--Talon Karrde (Karrde@death-star.com)
As always, comments, questions and criticism are more than welcome.
In fact, I'd go so far as to say that they are demanded.