I do not own Ranma ½

Ne Me Quitte Pas

The world had changed, yet the only thing different was himself.

This was the train of thought which kept running through Tatewaki's mind following his recovery from the morning's beating. After his departure from the nurse's office he had rushed to speak with his father, about what he was not sure. But the dream he had dreamt seemed too real, too plausible, and too prophetic, somehow it demanded that some sort of action had to be taken in order to avoid its unfortunate ending.

However once he reached his father's office, Tatewaki had been informed by the principal's secretary that the elder Kuno had been taken to the hospital as a result of an altercation between himself and Ranma. Although it seemed as if the admittance to the hospital stemmed more from the principal's capriciousness and fondness for the hair cut of one of the attending nurses, than from any actual need.

So, assured that his father was in no real immediate danger, Tatewaki decided to return to class, mostly in order to give himself time to digest his dream, and to figure out how best to approach the rest of his family about the issues that it had raised, without sounding insane. At least more insane than normal.

On his frantic journey to the office, Tatewaki had not given any attention to his surroundings, but on his more sedate trek back to his classroom Tatewaki began to notice minor changes in the world around him.

The most obvious was the lack of any gazes of admiration. He passed a few of his fellow students in the hallway, who the day before would have been staring at him in awe, waiting with bated breath for the words of wisdom he was sure to give. Yet today few if any of the students looked at him at all, and the few who did looked at him not with admiration, but scorn and annoyance.

The building itself seemed slightly different as well, where previously it had been a rather bright and clean building, well blending traditional architecture with a few modern flourishes, it was darker somehow. Not really dark, thanks to omnipresent fluorescent lighting, but rather darker somehow than he remembered it. Also while by no means filthy, it seemed dingier, the floor sparkled and the walls were clean, yet for some reason Tatewaki felt that if he turned his head quickly there would be a pile of dirt or cobwebs stuck in a corner somewhere. The building also had lost all touches with the past. It was just another modern building created with form following function, and its function was to provide as spartan a space as possible so all attention could be provided to learning.

Somehow the changes to the building seemed to impact Tatewaki more than the changes in the students.

He had arrived at his classroom, and after opening the door was both surprised and slightly dismayed at the changes which had occurred in his absence. The instructor was older, shorter, and balder than he remembered. The room smaller and darker, the students were split between those near the front who were paying rapt attention to the lesson, and those in the rear who were tolerating it with indifference. The latter where the only ones to look up when he came into the class, and they regarded him not with admiration but rather with mockery and indifference reserved for something which is troublesome, but is of slightly more interest than staring at the ceiling for the rest of the lecture.

Tatewaki entered into a kind of stupor as he took in all the changes which had happened. A stupor which was broken when his eyes fell on the only person who seemed unchanged from the previous day, Nabiki Tendo. She had turned around in her seat to see who had interrupted the class, but after realizing that it was just Tatewaki, she had returned to paying attention to the instructor.

Still slightly dazed Tatewaki made his way to his seat, on the way noticing a few other changes to the classroom, the desks and books in the classroom were more worn, and someone had scratched into the wall just below the window, "Fuck you." It was an average high school classroom, and Tatewaki was seeing it for the first time.

Tatewaki finally reached his seat, and upon attaining it, brooded in silence trying to absorb all the changes that had taken place to the world in which he lived in. The instructor continued to drone on without interruption, either not noticing or not caring about Tatewaki's entrance.

Thankfully Tatewaki's beating in the morning had been rather severe so that the majority of the day had passed before he regained consciousness. It was the final period of the day, so only half an hour lapsed while Tatewaki was struggling with his thoughts before the bell signaling the end of the day rang.

Quickly the class broke up into small groups, some students leaving to go to club activities, some to cleaning duties, some to just gossip before starting the walk home. As usual there was a small group congregating around Nabiki, lackeys receiving orders, and customers buying photos, placing bets, and transacting the other minor deals which provided the girl with her daily income.

Tatewaki however was torn. As captain of the kendo club he should already be on his way to the practice area to prepare his equipment to aid in the training of his fellow swordsmen, but for some reason he found that he did not really feel up to the task of swordplay, and kendo was important to Tatewaki, so important that if he did not fully feel passionate about it, then he might as well not even pick up his bokken.

On the other hand he could not go to Nabiki as usual either. Where normally he would almost immediately have leapt up to demand if there were any new photos of his two loves, thanks to the realism of his dream, he was confused as to whether he truly loved Akane Tendo and the Pig Tailed Goddess, or perhaps if he somehow harbored feelings for Nabiki.

Having lacked the appropriate amount of time to fully understand his befuddled mind, Tatewaki elected to merely leave the school quietly and seek out his father. Not sure if he had homework or not, Tatewaki decided that he would just leave his school books and other materials in the classroom rather than be burdened with them.

So with one final glance in the direction of Nabiki, Tatewaki left the classroom and the school grounds, his absence noted only by Nabiki who had kept an unobtrusive eye on the boy since his uncharacteristic actions in the nurse's clinic. She wasn't sure what exactly was going on with Tatewaki, but she had the feeling that once she did figure it out, there was money to be made.

Tatewaki meanwhile had left school grounds and had begun to travel in the direction of the hospital that his father's secretary had told him his father had been taken to. The trek was roughly twelve kilometers away, but Tatewaki decided that walking would better fit his state of mind than taking a taxi. So, lost in thought, Tatewaki sedately made his way through the streets of Nerima, his traditional style of clothing drawing only a minimal amount of attention.

The trip took a little under two hours, two hours in which Tatewaki mulled over the state of his life. For the first time in many years, he meditated upon the loss of his mother, very briefly of course, the increasingly strained relationship between him and Kodachi, and of the many changes brought about by the abrupt return of his most likely insane father. Tatewaki came to the conclusion that his familial life was in an awful state, and if things continued the way in which they were heading, then the many problems in the Kuno household would only continue to enlarge until anything resembling a Kuno family would disappear.

To have a father which one despised and feared, a father who was the target of ridicule and mockery, such a state of affairs was insufferable. Added to this was a sister who was obsessive to a fault, who was an elitist in the foulest sense of the word, believing herself to be superior over all others because she was wealthier than most. A sister who had begun to train and be involved in martial arts in order to impress her brother, but ultimately lost sight of her goal, and now hated and cursed that same brother.

Then of course there was Tatewaki himself, he was not without fault. For years, probably since his mother's death, he had begun to refuse to see the world as how it actually was; preferring instead to pretend that it was a better place, a noble place which echoed the beauty and splendor found in the past.

In the previous centuries, people had been more polite, more courteous and well mannered, princesses were kept in towers and knights trained their whole lives to save them. The past was simple, elegant, and in every way preferable to the gritty materialistic present. At least that was the thought process under which Tatewaki had labored for years, and still did to a certain extent. He still felt that the past was much better than the present, and likely to be better than any future which could come about from such a sorry present.

But he had come to the realization that however idealized the past was, it was the past, and he lived in the present. While it might be acceptable to fantasize about such a wonderful time, he could not afford to delude himself into believing that he lived there rather than in modern Japan.

He had just come to this epiphany when Tatewaki arrived at the hospital. It was a stereotypical hospital, a huge modern building, its outside peppered with an enormous amount of windows, almost all of which had their blinds closed to the outside world. Another sign of the times, people performing architectural wonders to allow inhabitants to view the outside world, and no one wishes to do so.

Tatewaki bypassed the emergency entrance, noting the many signs informing him that it was for ambulance personnel only, and made his way to the main entrance of the hospital. He entered through a pair of sliding glass doors, an imitation of an airlock, trying to keep the conditioned air inside the building and the natural air in nature.

He walked through a lobby devoid of almost any ornamentation aside from the hospital's logo prominently painted on one wall, the harsh fluorescent lights reflecting from the mirror-like tile floor. Tatewaki made his way across the vast sterile space to a large desk, behind which two attendants appeared to be frantically working, each with a phone held to their head by their shoulder, and shuffling various papers with their open hands.

Tatewaki stepped up to edge of the desk, and politely stood there, waiting for one of the receptionists to finish their conversation and deign to notice his existence. A few minutes passed while the two women continued their hushed conversations, but eventually one of them was forced to hang up, and with the air of being put upon, turned to face Tatewaki.

"Yes, may I help you?" She asked.

Tatewaki smiled in a hopefully disarming manner and replied, "I believe that my father was brought to this hospital following an unfortunate altercation with one of his students, I would like to see him in order to ascertain the extent of his injuries myself, as well as discuss with him matters of utmost importance which any delay can only serve to augment their direness."

The receptionist regarded Tatewaki for a few moments with an expression of dull disbelief. As if to ask who actually talked in such a manner, and if they should quickly return to whatever medication they were taking for their mental maladies. She then asked, "Name?"

"Our family name is Kuno, a name transcendent of time, descendent from …" Kuno trailed off, noticing that not only was he once again lapsing into pattern of speech which only served to impress upon others his lack of mental stability, but also that at the mention of Kuno the receptionist's expression had darkened.

"I'm sorry sir, but Mr. Kuno has left very explicit instructions that he is not to be disturbed, especially by his family."

Tatewaki was confused, "Surly there is some sort of mistake, I'm sure that my father would enjoy, nay dare I say expect, his only son to visit him during his hour of need."

The receptionist sighed, "Actually Mr. Kuno stated, and I quote," she said looking down at a paper on the desk, "'My ungrateful son might come by, don't let him visit me. But if my darling daughter comes to visit, send her on up.' So as you can see Mr. Kuno, I'm afraid that you can't see your father."

"But…" Tatewaki started dejectedly.

"Sir, if you continue to attempt to visit a patient against their wishes, I'm going to have to call security to escort you from the premises."

Tatewaki slumped his shoulders in defeat. "Can you at least tell me if he is alright?" He asked sadly.

"I'm sorry sir, but that would be a violation of patient confidentiality. Now please leave before I have to make you leave." The receptionist said, picking up her telephone with a menacing air.

Tatewaki nodded in defeat and retreated back across the vast lobby, wondering at his father's actions. Of course Tatewaki had acted with animosity towards his father even before he left on his trip to Hawaii; however he had never expected his father to really take offence at his actions, and reciprocate.

He left the hospital, once again alone with his thoughts, primarily circling his relationships with his father and sister, and how he had been actively driving a gulf between himself and the closest members of his family. Tatewaki walked home, reminiscing and mentally flinching over his previous actions as well as those of his father and sister, which had been deliberate in pushing each other away. At least pushing Tatewaki away.

Kodachi had been very young when their mother had died, and their father had left them, so her memories of the events where much hazier than Tatewaki's. Tatewaki had known his father, had known what type of man he was, and had never forgiven him. There had been many times recently that Tatewaki had wished that his father had remained in Hawaii. However Kodachi, having lacked a father so long, and without any real memories of her father before he left, had embraced their father upon his return, idiosyncrasies and all. It seemed that they had built some sort of relationship void of Tatewaki, and the distance that Tatewaki had willingly placed between himself and his father, as well as himself and his sister, created a wall in the three way relationship with Tatewaki on one side and his sister and father on the other.

Following another two hour trek, Tatewaki returned home wearied in body and spirit. There was an incessant pounding behind his eyes, brought about no doubt by the hours he had spent on unfamiliar introspection. It was exacerbated by his confusion surrounding his father's actions, as well as the changes he had noticed in his schoolmates. Had he truly been mad? How else could he have been so blind to the realities of his life?

Tatewaki sighed as the afternoon fell into evening and he found himself at the gate to the Kuno estate, the long shadows from the buildings opposite moving to cover exterior wall in darkness. He paused for a moment upon the doorstep, the desire to avoid any more unpleasant revelations warring with the knowledge that he had nowhere else to go really.

Resigning himself to his fate, Tatewaki unlocked the door and slipped inside. When the door shut behind him he found himself trapped in a courtyard of evening shadows, made darker somehow by the presence of a silence born of abandonment. There were trees in abundance in the yard, but no birds sang in them, large areas of grass bordering on the unruly, but no breeze to ruffle it.

It seemed almost as if in the Kuno estate, nature had stopped, as if it had written off that particular portion of the world as a lost cause. Even the sun seemed to shine upon the lawn and house begrudgingly, never with the warm yellow of the morning sun, but always with the cold red sun of twilight.

Tatewaki took in all of this as he unhurriedly made his way along the footpath from the gate of the estate to the front door of the main house. He noticed the seemingly perpetual gloom under the many trees, the pond and stream built to house koi, now too toxic for any life other than Mr. Turtle, and he realized that in the almost two decades of his life, he had never seen a single bloom or shoot from the seemingly miles of shrubbery surrounding the house.

He reached the main house and entered, finding a home of gloom, the only source of light provided by the setting sun, penetrating the few windows uncovered and facing the west, only to die after a few feet, the victim of the omnipresent darkness.

Tatewaki removed his shoes in the entranceway, the padding of his socked feet juxtaposed by the ticking of a distant clock, the only two sounds in the house. He felt as if in a tomb rather than a home, a place of long dead memories and perpetual silence, a home for the dead rather than the living.

He passed the hallway which was the entrance to the suite of rooms belonging to his sister. It was as dark and silent as the rest of the house, signifying that Kodachi was likely still at school, practicing with the gymnastics team, or out in town dissuading a rival from competing, or perhaps face down dead in a ditch somewhere. For the past several years Tatewaki had not really cared about his sister's whereabouts, and the feeling was reciprocated. It was not uncommon for days, even weeks to pass without the two meeting one another, and both brother and sister welcomed such a state of affairs.

Now however, Tatewaki paused momentarily before the entrance to his sister's domain, contemplating the silence, and for the first time in a very long while, hoping that she was alright and that she would not take whatever she was doing too far.

He then continued on his way with a sigh, and after a few long minutes of navigating through the long dark corridors of the Kuno household, he found himself in the doorway to his own room, the closest place he had to a sanctuary. He flicked on the light switch and was momentarily blinded by the almost obscene artificial light.

When his sight returned, Tatewaki was confronted by dozens, perhaps hundreds, of images of two very beautiful women. Akane peeked over her shoulder on her way to school from the door of his closet; the red headed pigtailed girl was performing some sort of stretching routine on the wall across from Tatewaki's bed. The two girls had been captured in a multitude of positions and activities, from as simple as walking to school or on an errand, to as risqué as changing clothes.

As recently as the previous day, Tatewaki would have defended these pictures as proof of his undying love, as evidence of the beauty, poise, and grace of the two girls. However now Tatewaki realized what the photos really were, candied shots of two women who otherwise would have refused to pose. These were not proof of the nobleness of his love, but rather a means of objectification of the two girls.

For some reason Tatewaki felt sickened at the sight of so many photos, they were all taken unwillingly, and that unwillingness was magnified by the sheer amount of photographic evidence in his room. Each photograph was a testament that if asked beforehand, the subjects would not have agreed to be captured on film. Rather than supporting his declarations of love, they showed that Tatewaki never thought about the two girls, but only himself.

If the two girls were unwilling to pose for a photo for Tatewaki, then what did that say of their feelings for him? Each picture was a reminder not only of their unwillingness to be photographed, but their unwillingness to love Tatewaki, their unwillingness to even like him.

With a quiet sob, Tatewaki lurched across his room and in one jagged motion ripped a life sized photo of Akane working out from his bedroom wall. He methodically shredded it before throwing the confetti into a corner of his room. He then systematically began to remove and destroy the images which had cost him so many thousands upon thousands of yen. An hour later, the pile of shredded photos in the corner of his room had grown almost as tall as Tatewaki and all the walls and other flat surfaces of Tatewaki's room were once again bare.

He was panting from exertion as he regarded the very last images he had of the two loves of his life, a small pair of photos in a small hinged frame on the nightstand next to his desk. Tatewaki sat down heavily on the edge of his bed and picked up the frame. Unlike the rest of the pictures he had destroyed, he had not acquired these through Nabiki. Rather these were from the class pictures that had been taken earlier in the year for the high school yearbook. Such a small reminder of two very pretty girls, and his love for them, could not hurt. Could it?

So Tatewaki set the frame back down on his nightstand, face down, and avoiding the small piles of shredded photos which had not made it to the corner, but now dotted his carpet, turned off his light, then returned to bed. He collapsed in it and wearily covered his eyes with his hand, hoping that a dreamless sleep would come to him sooner rather than later.

The title comes from a song of the same name by Jacques Brel. I don't own that either.