DISCLAIMER: Ranma Nibunnoichi is the property of Takahashi Rumiko,
Shogakukan Inc, Shonen Sunday Comics, and Viz Video. It is used without
their permission and is not intended for profit but only for the
enjoyment of fans of the Ranma series. All characters within this fic
that are not the property of the above mentioned are copyrighted to the
author, Joseph Kohle, January 1997. This work of fiction is the result
of the author's hard work and is for the enjoyment of others. Please do
not change, modify, or use any segment of this story without the
author's knowing and written consent. Feel free to archive this work.

WARNING: This story contains material of an adult nature and may not be
suitable for some reader's tastes or age. This is not a lemon or a dark
fic, but it does include graphic scenes.

************************************************************************ 

                       Meiyo Ai soshite Nikushimi
                                  
                       A Ranma Nibunnoichi Fanfic
                            by Joseph Kohle

                      Part I: The Step Beyond
                        Chapter I Atonement


     I can't do it. I can't face her, not after what I've done to her. 
     Immobile as a rock he stood before her door, his hand raised part-
way, his face twisted in a grimace of grief and sorrow. He had to see
her. It was the only way to set everything right between them both, but
he was unable to bring his hand down and knock on her door. To do that
was to set himself on a path that eventually lead to disaster. No, I'm
already on that path, but can I finish it? Or do I lay down and die
beside it?
     A strangled whimper issued from his throat, as his hand dropped to
his side, lifelessly. I can't do it. This is too much to bear.
     Indignation rose in him like boiling lava. Too much for you to
bear! What about her? She suffers and you agonize. Baka. Insensitive.
You betrayed and hurt her, and you say you can't bear it. 
     The guilt followed closely as his emotions see-sawed back and forth
as changing and unpredictable as a leaf on the wind. What he had done
was reprehensible, degrading to himself, to her. For a week he had
struggled with it, not sleeping, not eating. His life had collapsed
around him. Finally he had come to her door, forced here by guilt and a
need to make things right. He had to face her just once, ask forgiveness
for the unforgivable, try to apologize in the only way he had been able
to think of.
     Unbidden her tear-streaked face flashed through his tormented mind,
accusing him. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, her body shaking. It
was beyond his endurance to bear it any longer. How could you do that?
The question wailed soundlessly in his mind. 
     I didn't want to. It just happened. I never wanted to hurt her.
Never. Never! Tears were streaking his cheeks. I was so worried. That
thing struck her so hard. How could I stop myself? It happened so fast.

     The demon darted through foliage, streaking unerringly towards him.
In the molted light leaking through the thick evergreen boughs its black
skin was a shifting, fluid pattern. Slanted red eyes burned with the
fire of hatred and desire. The gapping maw was searching for his soft,
vulnerable flesh. He knew it would not stop until the beast had impaled
him on its razor-sharp, curved talons, which flashed as they struck
towards his face.
     The attack forced him to duck, but the creature had planned on it.
Murder flashed through its eyes before it moved in. Reversing its deadly
attack, he was caught off guard as the creature swung its other forearm
at him. The rock-hard member slammed into his chest, forcing the breath
from his body as it sent him careening backwards into a tree. 
     Stars exploded around him as his head struck a branch. Moaning he
crumpled to the ground, the forest spinning around him, despite his best
efforts to cease the motion. He attempted to remove himself from the
ground, but his body refused to listen to him. He could only sit and
wait for his head to clear.
     Dimly he saw the creature rushing at him. There was nothing that
would save him. He saw his death in those cruel eyes. Then Akane was
there, screaming at the creature, launching herself recklessly into its
path to save him. Fear filtered into his mind, and he tried to scream,
tell her to stop. Anything, but nothing came out.
     Helplessly, he watched her fly at the beast, hoping she would suc-
ceed. It was not to be. The demon noticed her quickly, but did not even
break its stride to deal with her. A single arm lashed out at Akane like
the thing was swatting an annoying fly. A shrill whistle followed the
arm as it cut through the air. Akane never saw the attack, it was too
fast for her, too powerful. The forearm struck like a wrecking ball, a
crack of thunder was the sound it made as it connected with her head
and shoulder.
     In horror he watched her head snap back, her arm and body go limp
as she flew away from the beast to land in a crumpled heap off to his
side on a patch of moss, a single shaft of light illuminating her still
and silent face.
     Dead. The word sounded hollowly in the vaults of his mind, ringing
like a mournful bell. Dead. He was empty. Nothing was there. It was like
the world had ceased to exist, as if it had crumpled around him leaving
him alone with his shattered dreams and hopes among the rubble. Dead.
There was nothing to live for anymore. Nothing that would bring him joy.
     Then he saw the demon still rushing at him, and then there was
something to live for. Revenge. It was hollow. It was lifeless, but it
filled him with a goal. A simple desire that he could achieve at this
moment. It was an outlet that he desperately needed.
     Rage, anger, grief, and depression burst forth like an eruption of
searing lava. Power washed over him, through him, on a scale even the
Lost Boy Ryoga had never known existed. It pounded within him, forcing
him to his feet, forcing his arm up. An inarticulate scream of grief and
rage shattered the calm forest air as he released everything at the
beast.
     The product of Happousai's deranged machinations was caught in a
fiery blast of ki. It was not even blasted backwards. It was impossible
for that to happen. The creature disappeared in the raging torrent of
his grief. Yet he didn't care. Even before the light of the blast had
dissipated, he was half running, half stumbling to Akane's still form
shouting her name.
     Collapsing beside her still form, he picked her up, cradling her in
his arms. Rocking her like a small child, he begged her to come back to
him. He pleaded with her, promised her everything if she would just wake
up for him. His tears fell on her face as he called her name again and
again.     
     Then she was moaning in pain, her body suddenly thrashing in his
arms. It was as if the sun had risen. Hope and joy filled his soul as he
realized she was alive. He did not even think. Pulling her body to his,
he kissed her forehead, tears of joy streaming down is face.
     
     And after that. He could not bring himself to think about after
that. It was too hard, too painful. He had lost her and gained her and
lost her all in the matter of minutes. How could I be so stupid?
     For the thousandth time that week he wished Happousai had not re- 
leased that demon. He wished everything was like it had been. He wished
he was downstairs fighting with Akane right now, anything was preferable
to the misery and shame he felt now.
     Denial reared its head like a striking snake, injecting its venom
into him. It wasn't my fault. It was Happousai's. If that bastard hentai
had left us alone, if he hadn't released that demon, none of this would
have happened. I'll kill that old fool.
     A sharp pain flared in his left hand as his fist tightened about
the long wooden box he was holding, the sharp edges digging into his
skin. The pain brought him back to his senses, forced reality into his
clouded mind.
     No! It's my fault. Everything was my fault. You did that to her.
You hurt her. No one made you do anything.
     The guilt washed over him again. The shame he felt over his actions
crippling him, nearly forcing him to the tears he had been fighting all
week. His love for Akane made everything that much harder to bear. What
he had taken from her was irretrievable, as impossible to return as the
stars were to hold in your hand. It was a wound that was never going to
heal, a scar she had to live with forever and ever. But he was going to
make it easier for her to bear it, to live with it. He was here to see
that the justice she deserved was meted out, and the atonement he des-
perately sought was found.
     Self-repudiation was not enough. Despising himself was not enough.
He could not even apologize and call the score equal. Instead he had to
make a sacrifice that equaled her pain. Loss for loss. Pain for pain.
For a week he had sought the right answer, and for a week he had failed.
In the end only one course of action was the correct one, the honorable
one, and that was what he was here to do today. He would travel the
honourable path.
     He pulled himself up, his blue-gray eyes flashing with purpose and
determination. Now or never. He had to do it now or he would never be
able to do it. Waiting only made it worse, only eroded his confidence
and resolve. She did not need to suffer any longer. One moment of the
suffering and anguish she must be feeling was too much for him. The debt
must be paid.
     Clutching the wooden case tightly in his hand, he pushed open her
door, not even bothering to knock. She would not want to see him anyway.
He did not blame her. With a dread sense of purpose burning in his
heart, bolstering  his courage, he silently entered her room.

     His first kiss turned to many. His mind was still reeling from
every thing that had happened. He had been so sure of her death, that
now he needed confirmation, something to prove that this was real, that
he was not just dreaming it while she was in actuality just a lifeless
body in his arms.   
     So he kissed her forehead, her cheeks. His lips brushed hers again
and again. In between each kiss, he murmured over and over how much he
loved her. He whispered how scarred he had been, how empty he had been.
He told her to never leave him again.
     Slowly, she came back to him. His urgent words, his soft kisses,
his gentle hands caressing and holding her body all working to revive
her. Her eyes fluttered a bit and then slowly opened. Starring into
their depths, he forced all of his love into his own gaze, trying to
tell her with one glance everything he had ever felt about her.
     "Ranma?" she asked, her eyes filled with confusion, uncertainty.
     His heart skipped a beat. She was alive. He pulled her into his
embrace, holding her tightly. "I thought I'd lost you," he whispered
hoarsely, "I never want to lose you." He kissed her tenderly, his lips
pressing down against hers.
     At first she did not respond, shock at his actions and words
stealing the passion from her. But his soft lips pressing against hers,
the intoxicating taste of the kiss, the passionate fire burning in his
eyes drew her to him. Gently she returned the kiss giving into his
enveloping love.
     For the first time, they were together, one under the heavens. The
barriers he had constructed, forced up over the time he had known her
crumbled. He no longer refused what he could not deny. Love pushed the
dams down shattering them in an instant and washing over him, carrying
him along in an uncontrollable rush of emotion, dragging him into the
oblivion of desire that was Akane's arms, her lips, her body. "I don't
ever want to lose you," he whispered, his voice gruff with emotion.

     And now he had. It had only taken a few minutes, and now he was
never going to have her. Only a few minutes and his lack of control and
restraint had damned him for the rest of his life. Culpability rested on
his shoulders and only his. When the piper came for his money, he was
going to be forced to pay, even though the children and joy had already
been taken from him.
     The truth of this became painfully obvious to him as he walked into
Akane's room. She was sitting on her bed, her back turned to him. Head
bowed to her chest, shoulders slumped in defeat, she looked so miserable
that it tore at his heart. Her body betrayed her emotions to him,
shouted louder than words the anguish and pain he had inflicted upon
her. Loneliness and bereavement radiated from her like the heat from a
stove. All were accusations flung at him like stones. It was germane. In
his mind he deserved to be stoned for his transgressions. 
     But even though he accepted the punishment, it did not mean he was
unaffected by it. What he saw before him was a blow that struck his very
core. A soft whimper of horror and sympathy escaped his lips as the blow
struck him, nearly forcing him to his knees. I'm sorry, Akane. I'm so
sorry.
     But those were words that lacked the power to appease her or him-
self. Yet what else was there to say? Were there even words that might
actually heal the wounds, cross the gap that had come between them? No,
there were no words that did that. Only actions had the effect he
desired. At the same time, however, it was impossible for him not to
explain, not to tell her how he felt, how sorry he was.
     Grief, guilt, hatred, despite all warred within him demanding to be
appeased, to be soothed in some way. It was so hard to do that. How
could he? He did not have the strength anymore. He had never had that
kind of strength, and that which he had had was now gone. But he had to
do this. Necessity and his own honour demanded such. 
     At some point a condemned man reaches the end of his strength, the
end of his willpower and finds acceptance and peace in himself. It is a
soothing calm that washes away his doubts and misgivings to leave only
acceptance and the courage to go on. Like the eye in the middle of the
hurricane, this is a time of calm that separates him from the violence
and confusion of the storm, breaks its hold on him. This is the fearless
nobility of the martyr, the undaunted courage of the soldier at the last
stand, the detached certainty of the suicidal.
     For him it was the pain and sorrow of the one he loved that tem-
pered his heart. Her sorrow brushed aside his lingering doubts, obliter-
ated any thought of turning back, retreating from the inevitable. Shame
and guilt coalesced in the torturous fires of his self-hatred and
annealed to form a purpose as clear and untarnished as a crystal. Amends
would be made. He would give her back her life as much as he could. He
would make it right. Never again would she suffer through or live
haunted by what he had done to her.
     Turning he closed the door behind him and clicked the lock. He did
not want any interruptions. Any person had the ability to stop him with
but a few words. He knew he did not have the personal strength to resist
them, he was barely able to force himself onto this course, so he locked
the door and turned to face Akane. Carefully he lowered himself to his
knees and placed the wooden case in front of him, within easy reach.
Resting his hands on his knees, he bowed his head to his chest and took
in a deep breath. Clearing his mind of everything but his task, he tried
to let his heart speak for him just this once.
     "I-I don't know how to say this," he began lamely his tongue tying
itself in knots, refusing to say what he wanted. Not now, please let me
do this right.
     "I'm sorry," he blurted, digging his fingers into his flesh relish-
ing in the pain because it gave him something to concentrate on besides
his chaotic emotions. I hurt her. I, who was supposed to protect her.
     "I never meant to hurt you. Akane, I never wanted to hurt you," he
cried, tears streaking down his face, "I didn't mean for it to happen.
Please believe me. Please. I didn't want to hurt you." I didn't. I
didn't. Please believe me, Akane.

     She returned his kiss passionately, deeply. Holding her close, he
felt the warmth of her body beneath him, conforming to his. Passion and
desire swept him away. He wanted her, more than anything else he wanted
her, desired to love her completely. His love and desire so long denied
pushed him over the edge. His lips found her jaw, the smooth skin of her
warm, graceful neck.
     Urgently his hands moved over her body as he laid her gently on the
ground. He caressed her full body, feeling the smooth, rounded curves,
the soft, warm flesh. He undid her blouse, his hands fumbling with her
bra for a moment and than shoving it aside as his hands sought her bared
breasts. He did not care anymore. He wanted her, fully and completely.
     So caught up in her body, he did not remember removing his clothes,
but he could feel his skin pressed against her bare chest. Her touch
burned like fire through his body. Oh, gods how he wanted her, needed
her touch amd love.
     Fiercely kissing her, he pulled at her jeans and panties, pushing
them off her hips. Ignoring her hands pushing against his shoulders, her
body struggling beneath him, he kicked them off from around her legs.
His lips drank in her sweet taste, her warmth and heat.
     He heard her soft cries beneath her, but he was beyond caring. He
wanted her. He kissed her again and again, his hips pushing her legs
farther apart.

     "Oh, gods Akane," he sobbed, "I never wanted to hurt you. I
couldn't control myself. I couldn't. You've gotta believe me."
     
     He penetrated her. Her body went rigid beneath him, her cry of pain
echoed in his ears, but failed to register as his burning passion
carried him forward with the momentum of a landslide.

     "I don't know what to say. Dammit! I don't know how to make you
feel better with words. I can't change the past. Gods, I want to so bad.
I wanna take away the hurt, make it all better, but I can't! I can't!"
He was silent for a moment as tears fell down his cheecks to spach into
his white, silkm shirt. "I can only make amends," he whispered.
     He reached down in front of him and opened the wooden case. From it
he removed an object wrapped in a white silk ribbon. The ribbon slid off
the object revealing the gleaming blade of a tanto that his father had
kept since leaving Nodoka.
     The blade gleamed brightly, reflecting the light like the tears
that had streaked Akane's face. He had hurt her too much. This was the
only way out of his grief and guilt, the only way to make everything
perfect once again.
     He rested the blade between his third and forth rib, the point
pressing into his skin, a small trickle of blood running from the small
wound. It would be quick, painless, and irreversible. There was no
possible way he could besaved from a thrust to the heart.  
     It was now or never. He had to do it.
     Looking up, he gazed at her one last time. The dark hair cut short
to curl around the beautiful porcelain neck. She was so much like a
China doll, and he had broken her with his clumsy hands. He had cher- 
ished that China doll, protected hit, kept it safe as he admired the
beauty and strength that resided in her. He wished she would turn to
face him, so he could see her face one last time. So his last memory of
her would not be the tear-streaked accusation that haunted his dreams.
     "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm so sorry I raped you. I give my
life in exchange." I'm so sorry, Akane. Forgive me.

     Spent, he collapsed on top of her, his breathing heavy, his passion
sated, his body content. Realization slowly dawned on him now that his
emotions weren't in control. What have I done? His eyes were drawn to
her face. It was turned to the side, her eyes closed, tears wetting her
flushed cheeks. No, no, no, no! 
     "No!" he screamed. I raped her. I raped. Oh, no. Anything but that.
     "I didn't mean it. I didn't," he cried out, pushing away from her,
stumbling to his feet. Fear and guilt pulsed through him. Crying out
once, he turned and ran from her, leaving her alone in the forest.

     He lifted the tanto and slammed it towards his waiting heart.

     When Ranma had entered her room, Akane had nearly physically thrown
him out of it. She had no desire to see him. He had hurt her and insul-
ted her beyond anything he had ever done. How dare he show his face to
me? That was her first thought. 
     When she had awoken to him kissing her, she had been very surpris-
ed; however, she had started enjoying his ministrations after a time.
She had almost stopped him when he had removed her shirt and bra, but
the play of his hands across her body, the tingling electric jolts they
had brought had stopped her. Instead she had started pulling at his
clothes, kissing him back. The rest had been a mass of conflicting
emotions. Her body had wanted him completely, but her mind had kept on
warning her and telling her that it was wrong. 
     She had struggled a bit when he had removed her jeans, but by that
time she had been caught up in her own emotions, her own love for him, a
love she had never thought would be shared by him. There had been pain,
but the pleasure had been greater. Afterwards she had been content and
happy to lie in his arms.
     But then he had started screaming, had denied everything and run
from her in a blind panic. She had been crushed, humiliated. Shame and
horror had filled her. Used, she had been used was the only thought
that had shot through her mind.      
     Rage had instantly consumed her. At that moment she had truly hated
Ranma for the first time in her life. For the last week she had avoided
him completely, not even talking to him. Never going to the table if he
was there, which luckily had been only once or twice. At school she had
refused to even mention his name to anyone, and stormed away from any
who talked about him.
     Yet when he entered her room, something stopped her from sending
him packing. She had known he had been standing outside her door for
nearly a quarter of an hour. Her curiosity was such that she could not
turn him away without at least hearing what he had to say. So she
relented and let him stay.
     After a long silence, he closed the door and knelt on the floor.
She heard him place an object on the floor also, but she did not turn to
face him. That would be too much like forgiving him. She would not
acknowledge his presence. Let him suffer.
     Eventually he began to speak. His words were poorly chosen, but the
emotion he put behind them showed his sincerity. It had caught her by
surprise when he apologized. More so was the emotion which caught at her
heart. It was almost unbearable to hear the anguish in his voice. He had
obviously been suffering through the entire week.  
     Things began to click in her mind. She had been avoiding him, but
almost no one had seen him in the past several days. He had withdrawn
into himself. She had heard their parents' and her sisters' worried
comments, but ignored them in her anger. She did not care if he was in
trouble. Now she realized it had been his actions that had brought that
down. He was truly sorry, and that fact soothed her anger like a balm
does a burn.
     Despite her soothed hostility, she did not interrupt him. She let
him continue. She listened to his words, enjoying the torment he was
putting himself through, but slowly she became worried. He began ranting
about not being able to be forgiven, and then the only way to make
amends. Fear entered her heart. Something was wrong her, but she did not
know what.
     Then he spoke the words that would burn in her heart as a testament
of his love for her, a reminder of what can happen from misunderstand-
ing. "I'm so sorry I raped you. I give my life in exchange."
     It was a barely audible whisper, but it stopped her heart. Every
thing became clear. Everything snapped into place. Oh no, he thinks he
forced me. No. "Noooo!" she screamed turning around on the bed. She saw
the gleam of a blade descending and flung herself forward lashing out.
Pain flared in her arm and then she hit Ranma's body, sending both of
them tumbling to the floor. She heard his cry of pain, and terror filled
her heart.
     Pushing herself up, she looked at him. His eyes were open starring
at her. He was alive. 

     He heard her cry out to him, but the tanto was already descending.
Then her body slammed into his, the sharp blade was deflected and missed
his heart to stab deeply into his abdomen. Pain flared in his body, and
he cried out as he felt the blade slice through his flesh, digging
deeply and then tearing more as his arm was jolted when he hit the
ground, wrenching the tanto in his body.
     His eyes snapped open, to see Akane on top of him, her eyes filled
with fear. "Why did you stop me?" he asked in a strained voice. It hurt
to breathe, and his side was throbbing.
     Anger flashed in her eyes, "Ranma no baka!" she shouted, "How could
you even think you raped me? I'd never let you. I wanted to be with you.
I ripped off your clothes, don't you remember baka?"
     He simple starred at her stunned, his mouth moving soundlessly.
Pain, shock, and her words were making it impossible for him to think,
to rationalize what was going on. Finally he could only resort to 
defending his position, "You were struggling, crying out. You screamed
when I..when I...took you. You were crying afterwards."
     Her face softened. She shook her head gently. "It only hurt for a
second, Ranma. It was wonderful. I was so happy, so very happy. That's
why I was crying. I thought you loved me. But you ran away, denying
everything. What was I supposed to think? You hurt me. I thought you had
used me."
     "No," Ranma muttered, watching the tears fall from her eyes, "My
fault, all my fault." He was numb and was having trouble connecting
thoughts together. "Should've stayed, talked to you. I jumped to conclu- 
sions. So sorry, Akane. So sorry." 
     He was tired, his eyes slipped shut for a second, before he snapped
them open. "Never wanted to hurt you. I love you. Yes love you." His
eyes lost their focus and began wandering the room aimlessly.
     Akane knew something was wrong. Gods, the tanto. She shifted on
him, trying to get up, but accidentally hit the knife, causing it to cut
farther along the already gapping wound. Ranma cried out in pain as the
blade shifted, his eyes snapping back into focus. 
     Akane was next to him looking at his side, horror on her face.
Fumbling, he reached for the hilt and finally found it. It was slick
with his blood, but he grasped it tightly and yanked. A white wave of
intense pain washed over him, causing him to scream.
     His scream jolted Akane from her shock. She took one look at him
and began searching the room frantically for a bandage. His white shirt
and been soaked in blood, along with the pants around his hips. Blood
was pooling around his side, a dark stain on the floor. 
     Finally she grabbed a shirt and rushed back over to him and shoved
it into the gash in his left side. "You need a doctor, Ranma."
     He nodded at her suggestion, but was looking at her. He noticed the
blood dripping down her right forearm. A long slash was the cause of
this. Already confused and weak, he said the first thing that came to
his mind. "You're hurt," he stated touching her arm, "Better take care
of that."
     "I'll be fine," she shouted, her voice filled with worry. From
outside Akane's room, Ranma heard people shouting questions. He tried to
answer them but nothing came out.
     "Call an ambulance," Akane shouted, terror stricken. The flow of
blood was slowing, but Akane knew he had lost a lot. The shirt she had
been using was thoroughly soaked in it. 
     Looking down at him, Akane became terrified as she saw the glazed
expression in his eyes. "Stay with me, Ranma," she cried ignoring the
questions from outside her door, "Why do you always have to do stupid
things?  Why couldn't you just talk to me? I would've listened."
     He was tired, but he looked at her when she spoke to him, and shook
his head. "Thought I hurt you," his voice was slow and distant in his
own ears, "Thought I ruined your life. Couldn't live with that. Couldn't
live with it. This only way."
     "Baka, don't you ever think?" she wasn't shouting anymore, she was
too busy crying, but she had to keep him talking.
     He smiled. "No, I don't." He was so tired, if he could just sleep
for awhile. His eyes slipped shut, but snapped open when Akane yelled
his name.
     "Hold on, damn it!" she raged, "I"m not losing you because of your
stupidity."
     "I will," he promised weakly.
     She pulled him against her, rocking his body gently. She told him
it would be alright, that everything would be perfect from now on. He
tried to concentrate on her words, but it was so hard. He was tired.
His body was numb. Slowly he slipped into darkness, the sound of sirens
sending him off.
     She heard the ambulance just as Ranma went limp in her arms. With a
low cry of grief, she stumbled to her feet, Ranma cradled in her arms,
and rushed from the room. Kicking the door to splinters, she rushed past
her family and headed downstairs and outside to the waiting ambulance.
     Begging Ranma to stay with her, she helped them place him on the
gurney, and then followed him into the ambulance when they noticed the
cut on her arm. She wanted to be with him, and so sat down next to him,
and held his limp hand tightly all the way to the hospital. 

     Blinking he opened his eyes to a well lit room with sterile
coloring. He turned his head to the side and groaned as a headache
formed behind his eye. His side also hurt, it was stiff, uncomfortable,
and itched worse than a rash.
     "Where am I?" he asked of no one in particular.
     "Ranma!" Akane's voice filled the room, "I'm so glad you are awake.
I've been so worried about you." She was beside his bed an instant
later, anxiously checking him over. After a cursory insepction, she was
satisfied he was fine. Then she let loose. "Why on earth did you think
seppuku was the only answer?! Y-you insensitive, hard headed baka. "
     Memories flooded back into his mind. The demon's attack, what had
happened after, the week of pure hell for him, his final decision, and
the truth Akane had told him. Stupid. Why do you always overreact?  
     "I didn't think." It was a lame answer, but it was the only one he
could think of at the moment. He turned to look at Akane. She was
leaning over him, a chair was pulled close to his bed. Her eyes were
blood shot and puffy, as if she had been crying. Reaching out she gently
stroked his forehead. Her arm was bandaged and he realized it must be
because of the tanto.
     Touching the bandage, he said, "I'm sorry. I hurt you again, didn't
I? I'm sorry. The tanto was for me."
     He didn't even see her move, but her hand cracked across his face
with a loud smack as she slapped him. "Baka!" she shouted at him, her
eyes flashing in anger and confusingly fear, "Stop it, just stop it! You
always put me above yourself. You're going to kill yourself, just like
you almost did yesterday. I don't want to lose you.
     "Don't you understand that losing you would hurt me worse than any
injury I can take? I don't want you to die for me Ranma. I want you to
be alive for me. Can't you understand that?" Her voice had dropped to a
conversational volume, but it was filled with worry and sorrow.
     Chastised. Ranma dropped his gaze from hers and gently rubbed his
stinging cheek. She was right. Protecting her had become a habit, but
more than that, it had been the only way he could express his true feel-
ings without actually admitting them. He knew he would trade his life
for hers in an instant, no doubt, no second thoughts. It had never
crossed his mind that she might be hurt by his death. Does she really
love me? Does she love me that much? It was a sobering thought.   
     He turned his eyes back on her. "I'm sorry, Akane," he said softly.
How do I tell her? How do I explain? "It's just I don't want you hurt.
Death is a fair price for your safety," he stopped and watched her. Yes,
I guess I do love her. "I care for you, Akane," Just tell her, get it
over with. "I...I love you." It was said in a whisper, but it still had
the right effect. 
     Akane's eyes went wide and then filled with a sublime joy as she
smiled at him. She really is beautiful, especially when she smiles. He
reached up and touched her face gently.
     He understood he had been given a second chance with her. They had
both been given another chance. This time he would do it right. No
fights, no misunderstandings. They would start over and see where it
would eventually lead them.
     Before Akane regained her senses, he slowly brought her down to
him and kissed her gently. For the first time in a long time he was at
peace. He was happy. He was content.
     "Ranma, I love you," Akane breathed softly into his mouth. He
simply kissed her harder, pulling her into him. It was a start. I almost
lost you once. Never again, they silently promised themselves.


     Author's Notes:

     This is the first Chapter in a series entitled Meiyo Ai soshite
Nikushimi. This translates as Honour, Love, and Hate. (To any language
nitpickers, I know soshite is used wrong, it should be to, but since I
found that outn after being half finished with ch 3 and I think MASN
sounds better than MATN, I left it alone.)
     This first chapter was actually intended as a stand alone fic.  The
idea originally came from two places. One was the fanfic "It's 11:00" by
Suds-kun, the other is from a scene in Robert Jordan's  "Crown of
Swords". Well, synergy happened and this fic was the result. Anyway, I
thought there were several places this could go so I continued to write
and MASN has come about because of it.
     MASN is, by my definition, a continuation fanfic. It takes place
a year and a half after Ranma first came to live with the Tendou's. For
your information, as far as this story is concerned, nothing has ever
been resolved between the characters. Ranma never fought Saffron, he
never got back together with his mom, and so Chapter One is actually
the first time he admits his love for Akane and vice versa.
     From this first Chapter you might get a feel for the way MASN will
run. This is not comedy and there will be very few humorous sections.
Mostly because I'm not a comedy writer and the fact that I like humor in
small doses, used subtly.This is a drama with tragic undertones,
although it is not really a tragedy. I deal with the characters on a
real life basis, at least in their thinking and many of the problems
they will face. Some of the sections will be dark fics, some sad fics,
others will just be serious and a few will be light hearted and
cheerful. 
     Along with MASN will be running a second fanfiction set. This
is called the Shrouded Paths. It is a collection of stand alone works
that explore the characters by taking events in MASN and showing what
might have happened. I wil try and post these along with the chapter
they correspond to.
     That is all I wish to speak of at the moment.
    Until Next time
    Joseph A. Kohle

   ---*----*----*----*----*----*----*----*----*---
   All rights and priveleges to Ranma Nibunnoichi       
   belong to Rumiko Takahashi. The characters of           
   Her series are used without her permission for        
   the purpose of entertainment only. This work of 
   fiction is not meant for sale or profit.                    
            
   All original characters are the creation of the
   author. All copyright privileges to these chara-
   cters are reserved for the author.

   This story is a product of the author's hard work    
   and imagination. Do not modify, add to, or make 
   use of any part of this work without the author's 
   knowledge and consent. Please feel free to archive 
   this work.                             
     
   Comments and criticism are welcome.                   
   Written by Joseph A. Kohle, (c) 1997.                 
   Send all comments to Ashira@worldnet.att.net