-3-
Usagi found herself in a foggy land, undifferentiated from
the sky above. She walked along, quite aware that she was dreaming but unable and unwilling to will herself
awake. The concerns of the waking world were so very far away.
As she walked in this land of dreams, she noticed the fog
lightening after who-knew how long. She was standing on a hill, the fog now that of morning mist obscuring the land
beyond. Dawn was breaking, but the sun was hidden by the gray clouds overhead.
Sounds came to her, thundering and clashing of steel. Screams and shouts. It
was the sound of battle.
"Nasty business, isn't it?" said a voice from
behind.
Usagi turned and saw a man, sitting at the top of the hill
comfortably. His hair was a deep black and tied in a ponytail that fell just above his shoulders, his thick bangs
almost obscuring his eyes. He wore a uniform of some sort, a blue so dark that it was almost gray, which had bits of
thread hanging off on the shoulders, chest and arms. It was as if someone had torn away all rank, flag and
embellishments from it, leaving behind simply a severely cut suit.
"This is a dream," said Usagi.
"Yeah," said the man patiently.
"But . . . I don't think that I'm dreaming you or this place."
"Smart and cute," said the man. "You're right. Someone, not me, but someone has used your dreams to bring you
here and now to this place."
"Where am I?"
"Easily answered," said the man breezily. "That's Tokyo, or what's left of it. And this is the Battle of Ascension."
Usagi staggered to her knees, thunderstruck. The Battle of Ascension. If the man was right, she was over a hundred years in the past, just when her parents declared victory over the forces of Silence and ushered in the New Age, reawakening a sleeping world.
"And in about, oh," and here the man took a
pocket watch out and consulted it, "a minute or so, your dad is going to kill the remaining enemy and then your mom is going to lay down the Foundation
Stone of the Crystal Palace, fulfilling the prophecy and bringing about a never-ending age of peace, prosperity, and, I don't know, free ice cream on
Sundays."
"How do you know who I am? How do you know all this? What is going on?" Usagi cried plaintively. She wanted to wake up now. She wanted to wake up, and for this strange dream to end, but
it wouldn't. This was becoming too real. She tried to shut her ears to the
sounds of death but it came through regardless. "Who are you?"
The man stood up and walked over to her and sat down again,
laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You're on a quest and this is the beginning. Soon, you'll leave this place and me, and you'll see something or someone. Then
you'll wake up and you'll be on a quest proper. I don't know what, and right now I don't really
care. I'm busy. But that's what's going on with you. I know all this because when you get to be my age, you learn to see the patterns of things, the stories that shape the
world. And you're at the beginning of an old story. The only story,
really. And my name's Ranma, Saotome Ranma. I know you because I know lots
of things. Not much of an answer, but there you go."
"Father of a thousand bastards," whispered
Usagi.
"First of all, don't curse. I never liked it when girls use that kind of language. Secondly, there weren't a
thousand, all right? A lot, sure, but not a thousand. And they weren't
bastards . . . leastwise, not all of them. I mean, it wasn't as if there were a lot of standing churches and
government registries around with most of them. Anyway, I loved all their mothers.
Honest."
Saotome Ranma was a legend and at the heart of
legends. He collected a million stories around him, and almost as many names.
He was called the Warrior Sage, the Trickster Magician, and the Shape-Changer, accursed and holy. Hero, villain,
troublemaker. Everyone from Serenity, to Endymion, to nearly all the kings and queens of old traced their blood back to
him. Creator of Empires was the kindly term. Father of a thousand bastards the
less kind. And he was standing in front of her, looking for all the world like an ordinary man, though one whose
confidence and power blazed like the sun. Usagi remembered some of the romances and love songs that were written about
him, the ones that she had devoured when she was younger, and found to her horror that she was flushing. She darted a
look into his eyes and saw the amusement there. Why wasn't her hair catching on fire? Her face was certainly hot enough for that.
There was a flash of light, gold and silver, and trumpets
and bells sounded above the sounds of battle, silencing them. A second dawn had come, dispelling the morning
mist. From the plains of the battlefield, scattered with the bodies of the dead amid the few remaining ruins of ages
past, there came a great spire of crystal rising up into the sky.
"Well, that's my cue," said Ranma, standing
up and brushing the grass from the seat of his pants. "And I'm guessing from the increasingly wispy look
you're getting that it's yours, too."
"Oh," said Usagi, looking down at
herself. He was right; she was getting positively ghostly. "What do you
think is going to happen now? Am I going back home or . . . or what?"
"Beats me," said Ranma, shrugging. Then he smiled, wide and free and slightly mischievous. "But I'm sure that
we'll see each other again. Say hello to your parents for me, um . . . sorry, I never got your name."
"It's Usagi," she answered, feeling herself
continue to blush even as she became ever more transparent. "Or . . . or Chibiusa."
Ranma laughed.
"You're not so little any more. Well, see you later."
"Goodbye, uh, honored ancestor," said Usagi as
the world before her faded away.
Ranma stared at where the dreaming girl once stood, shook
his head with bemusement, and then walked away.
-4-
Back in the gloomy lands, Usagi felt the same lassitude
come over her, though she fought against it and succeeded somewhat. She thought, and thought hard. If her honored (and very cute) ancestor was right, she was going to be seeing something soon.
Keeping the insouciance away with sheer willpower, Usagi strained her eyes to look about her. From out of the
mist and clouds came the tap, tap, tap of boots against a stone floor. The fog cleared briefly in front of her and
there stood a tall woman dressed in black robes, bearing a long, metal, key-shaped staff topped with a shining round jewel inside a stylized heart.
"Hello again, Small Lady," she said.
Usagi stared, flabbergasted. It was Pluto, Guardian of Time, who hadn't been seen on Earth in years, though of course that meant little to someone who
transcended time and space. Among her parents' inner circle, they rarely spoke of her. When she was younger, they had been very close. She even had a special nickname for
Pluto. "Puu!"
Pluto smiled warmly and hugged the girl, her long dark hair
fall down from her and draping Usagi. Pluto had not changed much, as far as Usagi could tell. Was she younger? Taller? Less dark in her
complexion? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Still, the same love, care, and core of
melancholy loneliness in her were the same. She smelled of herself, and it comforted Usagi, bringing back fond
memories. "Small Lady," Pluto repeated.
"I've missed you, Puu. Where have you . . . no." Usagi interrupted herself, disentangling from Pluto's
embrace and stepping away. "Where am I and why have you brought me here?"
Though still gentle in countenance, Pluto's voice had a
firmness and certitude that marked her as one of the powers of the world. "I realize that you have many questions,
Small Lady, but I cannot answer them just yet. You have one more thing to see before we can speak. Understanding of this and the previous vision will come in its course. When you return, I
shall answer what I will."
Pluto raised her staff and light shone from it, discrete
balls in all the colors of the rainbow. Distantly, there was the sound of hooves and of wings beating against the
air. Golden light shone out of the obscuring darkness and met Pluto's light.
Everything became clearer, much as before, though Pluto and the lights disappeared.
Usagi found herself in a foggy land, undifferentiated from
the sky above. She walked along, quite aware that she was dreaming but unable and unwilling to will herself
awake. The concerns of the waking world were so very far away.
As she walked in this land of dreams, she noticed the fog
lightening after who-knew how long. She was standing on a hill, the fog now that of morning mist obscuring the land
beyond. Dawn was breaking, but the sun was hidden by the gray clouds overhead.
Sounds came to her, thundering and clashing of steel. Screams and shouts. It
was the sound of battle.
"Nasty business, isn't it?" said a voice from
behind.
Usagi turned and saw a man, sitting at the top of the hill
comfortably. His hair was a deep black and tied in a ponytail that fell just above his shoulders, his thick bangs
almost obscuring his eyes. He wore a uniform of some sort, a blue so dark that it was almost gray, which had bits of
thread hanging off on the shoulders, chest and arms. It was as if someone had torn away all rank, flag and
embellishments from it, leaving behind simply a severely cut suit.
"This is a dream," said Usagi.
"Yeah," said the man patiently.
"But . . . I don't think that I'm dreaming you or this place."
"Smart and cute," said the man. "You're right. Someone, not me, but someone has used your dreams to bring you
here and now to this place."
"Where am I?"
"Easily answered," said the man breezily. "That's Tokyo, or what's left of it. And this is the Battle of Ascension."
Usagi staggered to her knees, thunderstruck. The Battle of Ascension. If the man was right, she was over a hundred years in the past, just when her parents declared victory over the forces of Silence and ushered in the New Age, reawakening a sleeping world.
"And in about, oh," and here the man took a
pocket watch out and consulted it, "a minute or so, your dad is going to kill the remaining enemy and then your mom is going to lay down the Foundation
Stone of the Crystal Palace, fulfilling the prophecy and bringing about a never-ending age of peace, prosperity, and, I don't know, free ice cream on
Sundays."
"How do you know who I am? How do you know all this? What is going on?" Usagi cried plaintively. She wanted to wake up now. She wanted to wake up, and for this strange dream to end, but
it wouldn't. This was becoming too real. She tried to shut her ears to the
sounds of death but it came through regardless. "Who are you?"
The man stood up and walked over to her and sat down again,
laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You're on a quest and this is the beginning. Soon, you'll leave this place and me, and you'll see something or someone. Then
you'll wake up and you'll be on a quest proper. I don't know what, and right now I don't really
care. I'm busy. But that's what's going on with you. I know all this because when you get to be my age, you learn to see the patterns of things, the stories that shape the
world. And you're at the beginning of an old story. The only story,
really. And my name's Ranma, Saotome Ranma. I know you because I know lots
of things. Not much of an answer, but there you go."
"Father of a thousand bastards," whispered
Usagi.
"First of all, don't curse. I never liked it when girls use that kind of language. Secondly, there weren't a
thousand, all right? A lot, sure, but not a thousand. And they weren't
bastards . . . leastwise, not all of them. I mean, it wasn't as if there were a lot of standing churches and
government registries around with most of them. Anyway, I loved all their mothers.
Honest."
Saotome Ranma was a legend and at the heart of
legends. He collected a million stories around him, and almost as many names.
He was called the Warrior Sage, the Trickster Magician, and the Shape-Changer, accursed and holy. Hero, villain,
troublemaker. Everyone from Serenity, to Endymion, to nearly all the kings and queens of old traced their blood back to
him. Creator of Empires was the kindly term. Father of a thousand bastards the
less kind. And he was standing in front of her, looking for all the world like an ordinary man, though one whose
confidence and power blazed like the sun. Usagi remembered some of the romances and love songs that were written about
him, the ones that she had devoured when she was younger, and found to her horror that she was flushing. She darted a
look into his eyes and saw the amusement there. Why wasn't her hair catching on fire? Her face was certainly hot enough for that.
There was a flash of light, gold and silver, and trumpets
and bells sounded above the sounds of battle, silencing them. A second dawn had come, dispelling the morning
mist. From the plains of the battlefield, scattered with the bodies of the dead amid the few remaining ruins of ages
past, there came a great spire of crystal rising up into the sky.
"Well, that's my cue," said Ranma, standing
up and brushing the grass from the seat of his pants. "And I'm guessing from the increasingly wispy look
you're getting that it's yours, too."
"Oh," said Usagi, looking down at
herself. He was right; she was getting positively ghostly. "What do you
think is going to happen now? Am I going back home or . . . or what?"
"Beats me," said Ranma, shrugging. Then he smiled, wide and free and slightly mischievous. "But I'm sure that
we'll see each other again. Say hello to your parents for me, um . . . sorry, I never got your name."
"It's Usagi," she answered, feeling herself
continue to blush even as she became ever more transparent. "Or . . . or Chibiusa."
Ranma laughed.
"You're not so little any more. Well, see you later."
"Goodbye, uh, honored ancestor," said Usagi as
the world before her faded away.
Ranma stared at where the dreaming girl once stood, shook
his head with bemusement, and then walked away.
-4-
Back in the gloomy lands, Usagi felt the same lassitude
come over her, though she fought against it and succeeded somewhat. She thought, and thought hard. If her honored (and very cute) ancestor was right, she was going to be seeing something soon.
Keeping the insouciance away with sheer willpower, Usagi strained her eyes to look about her. From out of the
mist and clouds came the tap, tap, tap of boots against a stone floor. The fog cleared briefly in front of her and
there stood a tall woman dressed in black robes, bearing a long, metal, key-shaped staff topped with a shining round jewel inside a stylized heart.
"Hello again, Small Lady," she said.
Usagi stared, flabbergasted. It was Pluto, Guardian of Time, who hadn't been seen on Earth in years, though of course that meant little to someone who
transcended time and space. Among her parents' inner circle, they rarely spoke of her. When she was younger, they had been very close. She even had a special nickname for
Pluto. "Puu!"
Pluto smiled warmly and hugged the girl, her long dark hair
fall down from her and draping Usagi. Pluto had not changed much, as far as Usagi could tell. Was she younger? Taller? Less dark in her
complexion? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Still, the same love, care, and core of
melancholy loneliness in her were the same. She smelled of herself, and it comforted Usagi, bringing back fond
memories. "Small Lady," Pluto repeated.
"I've missed you, Puu. Where have you . . . no." Usagi interrupted herself, disentangling from Pluto's
embrace and stepping away. "Where am I and why have you brought me here?"
Though still gentle in countenance, Pluto's voice had a
firmness and certitude that marked her as one of the powers of the world. "I realize that you have many questions,
Small Lady, but I cannot answer them just yet. You have one more thing to see before we can speak. Understanding of this and the previous vision will come in its course. When you return, I
shall answer what I will."
Pluto raised her staff and light shone from it, discrete
balls in all the colors of the rainbow. Distantly, there was the sound of hooves and of wings beating against the
air. Golden light shone out of the obscuring darkness and met Pluto's light.
Everything became clearer, much as before, though Pluto and the lights disappeared.