P: Genesis
"Some evil beast hath devoured him."
~ Genesis, 37:20
... Genma scowled in disapproval at his whimpering son, and swiftly backhanded the small youth. "Didn't I raise you better than this?" Genma barked, the light reflecting off his glasses giving him a sinister look. He grabbed his much abused son by the collar, and dragged him back towards the dank pit. "Now you're gonna get into that pit," he began, struggling to maintain his grip on his son's gi, "and you're not coming out until you learn that technique!"
Ranma, for his part, continued to writhe in his father's grasp, fearfully eyeing the pit; he had been tossed in two earlier times, and his body was swathed with an assortment of cuts and abrasions from his brief excursions. He turned and gave his father a pleading look, as he was dragged ever closer towards the hole. "Dad, please, don't put me back in there!" Ranma cried, clinging desperately to Genma's sleeve as they neared the ditch.
"Boy, this is for your own good." Genma pulled at Ranma's pigtail, and finally removed the youth from his arm. Holding his only son over the open pit, Genma turned his head slightly, so that he wouldn't have to look at his son's terror-stricken face. *Better drop him before I lose my nerve.* "For the Art, boy," Genma muttered, releasing his grip on his son's pigtail.
"NO!" Ranma exclaimed, arms flailing while he plummeted down towards the dank depths of the pit. He landed with an audible thud, and for a few precious moments, he lay perfectly still, his entire body awash with pain from the descent. The pain was excruciating, and Ranma could feel the blood begin to pool beneath his battered frame, but he didn't dare out cry out in pain. He could feel them, circling his broken body warily, wondering what to with the thing that had fallen from the sky. A smile slowly worked its way onto his face, as he felt something under him shudder and become still; at least he had killed one of them. His joy was short-lived, however, when he saw a lone fish being dropped into the pit by his father; time seemed to stagger to a halt, as Ranma watched the fish ever so slowly plop down onto his now still chest. He held his breath, and quickly clenched his eyes shut, as the horde of starving cats quickly descended upon him once again, like a plague of locusts...
~~~~~
... It seemed to last an eternity. The cats, bored with new chew toy, had retreated to the dark recesses of the pit, purring contentedly at having their hunger somewhat satiated. The feeding frenzy had begun to die down a few minutes after it had commenced, but the physical and psychological damage had already been wrought upon the poor boy. Barely clinging to life, the pigtailed boy managed to force his eyes open, and exhaled sharply through his nostrils, his breath visible in the cold night air.
"Ranma."
Sky blue eyes slowly began scanning the dark shadows, searching for the voice's owner, but Ranma made no attempt to call out to the speaker; his lips had adhered together, blood and spit mixing to bond them to each other. Ranma didn't very much feel like causing himself more pain by trying to talk; as it was, the sweat and blood leaking into his eyes was painful enough, and the mere act of looking about the dark chamber was causing him no end of pain.
"Ranma."
There. Ranma watched blankly as a cloaked figure stepped into view, black robe and hood concealing the wearer's identity. And yet, Ranma was almost positive that he knew what exactly was standing before him; he felt the room drop a few more degrees in temperature, and his breath seemed to freeze in the air above his face.
Only the youth's eyes gave any indication that he had noticed the figure, but that was enough for the being, who nodded, and reached into his voluminous sleeves. "Only in death," the figure rasped, its nearly imperceptible whisper all too clearly heard by Ranma, "can perfection be attained." It pulled out a palm-sized hour glass, and held it over the young martial artist. "Do you accept?" it asked, effortlessly crushing the vial in his hand, fragments of sand and glass raining down upon Ranma's unblinking visage.
Cracked and bloody lips slowly forced themselves apart, and a trembling hand reached up towards the cloaked figure. "Y-yes..."
Debiru allowed himself a small smile, and clenched the youth's proffered hand tightly in one of his own, his clawed fingertips digging deeply into the small hand. "You are mine now..."
The Fallen
By: FXffects
A Ranma Nibunnoichi altraverse fic.
No infringement intended. For entertainment purposes only.
"Some evil beast hath devoured him."
~ Genesis, 37:20
... Genma scowled in disapproval at his whimpering son, and swiftly backhanded the small youth. "Didn't I raise you better than this?" Genma barked, the light reflecting off his glasses giving him a sinister look. He grabbed his much abused son by the collar, and dragged him back towards the dank pit. "Now you're gonna get into that pit," he began, struggling to maintain his grip on his son's gi, "and you're not coming out until you learn that technique!"
Ranma, for his part, continued to writhe in his father's grasp, fearfully eyeing the pit; he had been tossed in two earlier times, and his body was swathed with an assortment of cuts and abrasions from his brief excursions. He turned and gave his father a pleading look, as he was dragged ever closer towards the hole. "Dad, please, don't put me back in there!" Ranma cried, clinging desperately to Genma's sleeve as they neared the ditch.
"Boy, this is for your own good." Genma pulled at Ranma's pigtail, and finally removed the youth from his arm. Holding his only son over the open pit, Genma turned his head slightly, so that he wouldn't have to look at his son's terror-stricken face. *Better drop him before I lose my nerve.* "For the Art, boy," Genma muttered, releasing his grip on his son's pigtail.
"NO!" Ranma exclaimed, arms flailing while he plummeted down towards the dank depths of the pit. He landed with an audible thud, and for a few precious moments, he lay perfectly still, his entire body awash with pain from the descent. The pain was excruciating, and Ranma could feel the blood begin to pool beneath his battered frame, but he didn't dare out cry out in pain. He could feel them, circling his broken body warily, wondering what to with the thing that had fallen from the sky. A smile slowly worked its way onto his face, as he felt something under him shudder and become still; at least he had killed one of them. His joy was short-lived, however, when he saw a lone fish being dropped into the pit by his father; time seemed to stagger to a halt, as Ranma watched the fish ever so slowly plop down onto his now still chest. He held his breath, and quickly clenched his eyes shut, as the horde of starving cats quickly descended upon him once again, like a plague of locusts...
~~~~~
... It seemed to last an eternity. The cats, bored with new chew toy, had retreated to the dark recesses of the pit, purring contentedly at having their hunger somewhat satiated. The feeding frenzy had begun to die down a few minutes after it had commenced, but the physical and psychological damage had already been wrought upon the poor boy. Barely clinging to life, the pigtailed boy managed to force his eyes open, and exhaled sharply through his nostrils, his breath visible in the cold night air.
"Ranma."
Sky blue eyes slowly began scanning the dark shadows, searching for the voice's owner, but Ranma made no attempt to call out to the speaker; his lips had adhered together, blood and spit mixing to bond them to each other. Ranma didn't very much feel like causing himself more pain by trying to talk; as it was, the sweat and blood leaking into his eyes was painful enough, and the mere act of looking about the dark chamber was causing him no end of pain.
"Ranma."
There. Ranma watched blankly as a cloaked figure stepped into view, black robe and hood concealing the wearer's identity. And yet, Ranma was almost positive that he knew what exactly was standing before him; he felt the room drop a few more degrees in temperature, and his breath seemed to freeze in the air above his face.
Only the youth's eyes gave any indication that he had noticed the figure, but that was enough for the being, who nodded, and reached into his voluminous sleeves. "Only in death," the figure rasped, its nearly imperceptible whisper all too clearly heard by Ranma, "can perfection be attained." It pulled out a palm-sized hour glass, and held it over the young martial artist. "Do you accept?" it asked, effortlessly crushing the vial in his hand, fragments of sand and glass raining down upon Ranma's unblinking visage.
Cracked and bloody lips slowly forced themselves apart, and a trembling hand reached up towards the cloaked figure. "Y-yes..."
Debiru allowed himself a small smile, and clenched the youth's proffered hand tightly in one of his own, his clawed fingertips digging deeply into the small hand. "You are mine now..."
The Fallen
By: FXffects
A Ranma Nibunnoichi altraverse fic.
No infringement intended. For entertainment purposes only.