Most of the characters in the following story are copyright of their prospective owners. No attempt to profit from them is attempted, and it is only meant for the free enjoyment of its readers. Please enjoy the story and e-mail me your honest opinion. Thank you. His face forgotten even to himself, Ryouga wanders Asia aimlessly, a horrible curse afflicting his being from within his very soul. As he looks to the sky, he prays Jusenkyou forgive him one less storm, for the depression raging within him at the loss of what little he could have claimed as his own. Picking up the pieces of his life, Ryouga's journey truly begins when he finally comes home. ********************************************* *A Ranma 1/2 Fanfiction: Shade of Redemption* ********************************************* Chapter One of In Search of the South Star by Ryan Erik Prelude: Mid-morning Rain The ear-piercing howl of the wind resounded across the mid- morning's sky, as black clouds rained down upon the streets, reminding each and every citizen of Japan just why they had sought the shelter and warmth of their homes. Businesses closed; only a madman would wish to commute to work under such conditions, and Yoshida Hitoshi decided to close his flower shop early for the first time in many years since his wife had been sick. Damp weather always seemed to make his joints ache, though the doctor said there was nothing wrong with him besides being an elderly man of seventy-two. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he placidly watched the rain through the glass door of his shop. There was no chance he could possibly venture into the storm to get home, so he left the store open and calmly sat in a metal foldable chair to rest his tired body. Just as he found himself very comfortable, sitting idly while watching the winter showers, the high-pitch cry of a teapot reminded him of his earlier intention to have tea. There was nothing like warm tea to soothe the mind and body on cold, rainy days. Unfortunately, he had to stand to prepare it. Pushing against his thin knees to stand, he humbly walked behind the register counter and into the back room of his shop. He turned off the burner, then carefully lifted the brass teapot and set it down on the adjacent counter. Before he had a chance to retrieve a cup from the cabinet above, the chime attached to the front door merrily rang, announcing that he had customers, or just those eager to find themselves a dry niche to wait out the rain. Either way, the more company there was, the better. He turned and walked far enough to see a young man, no older than twenty, gingerly place a large red umbrella into the blue porcelain vase he set next to the door for such usage. Hitoshi rounded the corner of the doorway, walking to the register, smiling fondly at the new arrival. The youth eagerly discarded a heavy rain jacket, hanging it on the coat rack next the vase. Underneath, his yellow, thick cotton shirt, soaked with perspiration, hugged the man's heavily-muscled chest. He stood much taller than the short merchant, though the stranger's heavy leather boots probably added an inch or two. A cheetah spotted bandanna only minimally bound the man's long black bangs out of his eyes, but it left plenty of room to see the hearty features of his handsome face. His brows slanted with frustration as he looked around the flower shop. It was his eyes, though, that caught Hitoshi's attention. Firmly set and bound with raw determination, his hazel eyes burned, and the floral shops lights reflected off them, adding to the dazzling effect. Danger reeked from the man like the stench of a rotted carcass with droves of flies hovering above it, but Hitoshi did not associate that danger with menace, or any other malevolent behavior from the man. The young man approached the register slowly, carefully stripping his thick leather gloves from his hands. Hitoshi took notice to the great care the man used with all of his wet clothing, but then disregarded it. As more light lit the young man's face, his features, though roughened by years of traveling, and perhaps conflict, appeared older than he seemed to be. He corrected his estimate to approximately eighteen years of age. "Can I help you, sir?" Hitoshi asked as he inclined his head in a weak bow, though the stiffness was of his joints and not indignance. The youth humbly returned his bow, closing his eyes with respect. "Pardon me, but I need directions," the youth replied, looking up to meet Hitoshi's eyes for a brief moment before he turned, staring sadly at the downpour. "Where do you need directions to?" the florist inquired, rubbing his hands together. The boy nervously bit his lip, holding his hands behind is back. "I really need directions to Nerima." He turned to face Hitoshi again. Gauging the young man's manner upon stating the request, Hitoshi figured the boy truly did not know he already occupied the very same district he was in search of. "You do not have to look far, young one. You are standing in my flower shop within the center of Nerima's market." The young man's eyes focused on Hitoshi and a look of doubt crossed the boy's face. He blinked once before an honest smile broke the hard edges of his face. "Y-y-you mean I made it back?" he stuttered hysterically, gripping the counter with the strength of his bulging forearms. Hitoshi only smiled in return, nodding in reply to the young man. "Thank God, I made it back finally, after such a long journey." A few tears streamed down his eyes as he sighed with relief. "I'm glad for you," Hitoshi said happily. "Can I give you directions to anywhere in particular?" The youth nodded vigorously, pulling an aged, torn map from the inside of his shirt. He set it down, gently unfolding its pages, which depicted the streets of Nerima and several of the other neighboring districts. Two small areas of the map had been circled with thick red ink, and he pointed to the northern most one. "I need to get to the Tendo family dojo," he whispered, tapping his finger on the section he had indicated to. Recovering from mild confusion, Hitoshi asked, "If you have a map, why do you need directions?" Turning to face him, the boy scowled, more at himself than at Hitoshi. He then suddenly appeared to find something interesting on the floor tiles. "I'm not real good with maps." By his unsteady tone and the redness of his cheeks, his inability to use maps caused him much pain. "The Tendo dojo isn't in that region," Hitoshi remarked, looking closely at the circle. "It's here." He indicated to the other circle which was on the opposite side of Nerima. "The other area is where the restaurants are located." The young man only stared at him with a silly smile. "You know where the Tendo residence is?" Hitoshi blinked at the boy's strange behavior and then nodded. "My grandson took classes there years ago." He shook his head with one glance to the current weather. "In any case, I'm afraid you'll have to stay here until the storm dies down." "Thank you," the youth humbly replied, bowing again. "I'm Ryouga Hibiki. It's good to meet you." The florist leaned over as far as his back would allow, and greeted, "I'm Yoshida Hitoshi. It's a pleasure to meet you." Gesturing towards the back room with his right hand, he spoke and his voice barely carried to the Ryouga. "I was just about to have some tea. Would you care to join me, Hibiki-san?" "I'd be delighted," Ryouga replied, rounding the counter, and they both walked into his back room. A few spare chairs were leaning against the far corner of the room, and Hitoshi gestured for the young man to pull one out for himself. "Thank you again, Yoshida-san." "Drinking tea with someone is always better than alone," the elderly man explained, sitting in the metal fold out chair once more. Separating another tea cup for his guest, he filled it with the steaming hot liquid. The warmth from the cups sent a chill of pleasure up the old man's spine. The two conversed for a while, taking moments to sip their tea, though Ryouga let Hitoshi do most of the talking. While the old man spoke of days long past and people long dead, the boy held his attention better than most people his age, the ones who tended to think poorly of their elders. With times bring change, and most of it was not good. Their conversation shifted into a new direction, as Hitoshi asked the youth why, exactly, he was out on such a dismal day. "I've been trying to visit some friends of mine for a while now," Ryouga told him, sparing a moment to finish his second cup of tea. Hitoshi lifted the small tea pot and filled it once more as the young man continued. "Unfortunately, I've been everywhere but there since I started looking. Fate seems to be against me." With a sagely nod, Hitoshi agreed, taking a sip of the warm tea. "It wouldn't have been so bad normally, but it's been nearly six months since I've last seen them, and I..." Pausing, the young man looked into his cup and sighed. "You miss them?" Hitoshi asked, looking at Ryouga. He seemed so deeply troubled that the elderly man wondered what was really bothering him. "Well, yeah." In one large sip, Ryouga finished his third cup, and set it down, waving off another refill. "I really didn't have anywhere to go, after..." Again the young man failed to finish his thought, wincing this time as a bad memory resurfaced. "After what, Hibiki-san?" Hitoshi knew he had no right to inquire to deeply into the boy's situation, but he could not offer any help, either, without more information. "After I broke up with my fiancee," Ryouga offered, hanging his head with shame. "You don't have to talk about it, if you do not wish," the old man told the younger, placing his hand on the table. "I am sorry if I brought you pain." With a steady shake of his head, Ryouga denied the anguish he felt. "No, Yoshida-san, it doesn't bother me anymore. We weren't meant to be. I loved another." Neither spoke after that, for neither knew what to say. Rain collided against the florist's shop and made their silence almost peaceful, although the subject matter had turned melancholy. Any broken relationship left scars upon the heart, no matter how hard Fate decreed that it should not have been. Yoshida Hitoshi believed this and stood by it. Ryouga Hibiki felt this, but refused to believe, the injury to his heart far too deep for mending. "Does this other, the one wom you love, return your feelings?" Hitoshi asked, unwilling to let the matter fade into the shadows once more. Pausing, the young man considered his elder's question. With a shake of his head, he responded, "I don't think she does, Yoshida-san. And she's engaged to another." Young love, Hitoshi thought, closing his eyes. Torturous was all love, but young love was especially painful. Lost love of the young was the regret of the old. "I see," he said in response, acknowledging the futility of it all. Every bit of knowledge he had picked up over the years would all be useless in this young man's situation. What good was it then? "I'm sorry, Hibiki-san. Life never conforms to love, so love must conform to it." "What do you mean?" Ryouga asked, confused by the strange answer. "What I mean is this: you must either choose to move on and forget your love, or choose to pursue your love, rather than let go. Conform to the situation, but do not pretend it does not exist. If your love is true, than be true to your love." Hitoshi smiled at the confused young man. "Do what's in your heart." With that, they finished the rest of the tea, chatting about news, from a torrent famine in Russia, to the sky-high price of gasoline. As the rain let up, Hitoshi bid Ryouga farewell and good luck, then turned the sign on his shop to read, "Open." With three fingers pressed firmly against his brow, Ryouga squinted through the light of the afternoon sun. The brightness seemed fitting in light of the haze that his life had become. Day to day, he travelled in a trance, searching for his true home, but unconsciously hoping he would never find it. With the streets so wet, he would have to search for his home away from home cautiously, for who knew what fate awaited him should he change shape again. The pleasure of seeing the Tendous again put the vigor back into his step, which had long been filled with only pain. Six months he had been on the road, searching for something beyond his grasp, always just past the tips of his fingers. Within a day or two he could finally return to faces more welcoming the the suspicious eyes of strangers expecting the worst from the young man who kept only to himself. "Don't go back," something inside him pleaded with his voice. "All there is to be found there are mountains of shame, which are far worse than the apathy of the road." Ryouga Hibiki stopped on the sidewalk before a large puddle of muddy water. Ryan Erik ryanerik99@yahoo.com http://www.geocities.com/ryanerik99