Categories > Anime/Manga > Ranma 1/2 > Kandinsky's Dragon and the Destroyer of Worlds (A Love Story)
Disclaimer: I do not own Ranma 1/2 or any of the related characters. The Ranma 1/2 series is created by Rumiko Takahashi and is owned by Shogakukan and Viz Video. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights to the original Ranma 1/2 story belong to Rumiko Takahashi. Author Notes:In Season 5, Episode 110, Ranma and Nabiki are briefly engaged. There is a scene in that episode when Nabiki and Ranma are sitting in her room and she tells him that the truth is that she has secretly been in love with him for some time. In the end, however, Nabiki's confession and her brief theft of the engagement from Akane turn out to be a prank.What though if the prank was not a prank, but instead a moment of unguarded weakness?What if maybe, for one brief moment, Nabiki was telling the truth?"Kandinsky's Dragon" is my first attempt to write a fan work, and it is inspired loosely by this possibility. The premise is apandemic-era exploration of a Ranma/Nabiki pairing if they were to meet again after not seeing each other for many years. This is my idea of one possible outcome for them as adults.Feedback and comments welcome. Thank you for reading.
PROLOGUE
Divi surya sahastrasya bhaved yugapad utthita
Yadi bhah sadrashi sa syat bhasastasya mahatmanah…
… Kaalo asmi loka kshaya kritpraviddho
(If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once in the sky, that would be the splendour of the mighty One…. Now, I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds)
-Bhagavad Gita, Chapter 11, Verse 32
Ranma knew he was dreaming again.
He remembered being told that it happened this way when the body knew that it was about to die.
With his eyes closed, he took in the deep-throated growl of the inline-six. Its vibrations hummed sonorously throughout the rigid chassis and into the seat beneath him. A cool breeze whipped around the uncovered windscreen and beat pleasantly on his face, through his hair, and in his ears. The BMW E85 Z-roadster was hardly new –nearly 10 years old - but it was visceral and alive. He truly understood why she preferred this over something modern and new.
A sweet, delicate waft of peach blossoms drifted by, snapping his eyes open. She was beside him in the driver's seat wearing a mini-length white shirtdress, a royal blue leather belt cinched around her slim waist, and a silk chiffon scarf with blue irises on a midnight black background done up in an elegant cowl around her neck. Glancing down, he caught sight of her slender, delicate arm again confidently clicking through the long, visceral throws of the six-speed gearbox. Her bare legs were exposed to the sun, and her feet were adorned in strappy white wedge pumps.
Sensing his eyes on her, she turned her head and answered him with a warm, knowing smile. Then she slammed the throttle pedal hard into the floorboard. The car shot forward toward the Bay Bridge, which loomed majestically just over the horizon.
His chest throbbed with the weight of something deep and profound as he found himself realising all over again just how beautiful she truly was. Her angelic face was delicate and heart-shaped with a porcelain doll complexion. Her hair was dark, shiny, silken, and cut in an elegantly smart and practical Italian bob style. Her brown eyes were fierce, luminous, and soul-piercing. The world had just irrevocably tilted again on its axis.
Then the Moment came. Strangely, it was amazingly anticlimactic in its merciless lack of any preamble or warning. The car was suddenly thrown forward into a violent flat spin, careening toward asteel side rail before smashing through and falling endlessly toward the infinite blue waters of the Bay far, far below.
He wanted to scream her precious name forever and forever. He hurled it with all his strength at the void to beat it back and prayed desperately for the salvation and the grace of her warm, tender, loving embrace.
He wondered if this was how it had been for Akane when it had been her time.
He did not want to die. Not yet.
He wanted to live.
PROLOGUE
Divi surya sahastrasya bhaved yugapad utthita
Yadi bhah sadrashi sa syat bhasastasya mahatmanah…
… Kaalo asmi loka kshaya kritpraviddho
(If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once in the sky, that would be the splendour of the mighty One…. Now, I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds)
-Bhagavad Gita, Chapter 11, Verse 32
Ranma knew he was dreaming again.
He remembered being told that it happened this way when the body knew that it was about to die.
With his eyes closed, he took in the deep-throated growl of the inline-six. Its vibrations hummed sonorously throughout the rigid chassis and into the seat beneath him. A cool breeze whipped around the uncovered windscreen and beat pleasantly on his face, through his hair, and in his ears. The BMW E85 Z-roadster was hardly new –nearly 10 years old - but it was visceral and alive. He truly understood why she preferred this over something modern and new.
A sweet, delicate waft of peach blossoms drifted by, snapping his eyes open. She was beside him in the driver's seat wearing a mini-length white shirtdress, a royal blue leather belt cinched around her slim waist, and a silk chiffon scarf with blue irises on a midnight black background done up in an elegant cowl around her neck. Glancing down, he caught sight of her slender, delicate arm again confidently clicking through the long, visceral throws of the six-speed gearbox. Her bare legs were exposed to the sun, and her feet were adorned in strappy white wedge pumps.
Sensing his eyes on her, she turned her head and answered him with a warm, knowing smile. Then she slammed the throttle pedal hard into the floorboard. The car shot forward toward the Bay Bridge, which loomed majestically just over the horizon.
His chest throbbed with the weight of something deep and profound as he found himself realising all over again just how beautiful she truly was. Her angelic face was delicate and heart-shaped with a porcelain doll complexion. Her hair was dark, shiny, silken, and cut in an elegantly smart and practical Italian bob style. Her brown eyes were fierce, luminous, and soul-piercing. The world had just irrevocably tilted again on its axis.
Then the Moment came. Strangely, it was amazingly anticlimactic in its merciless lack of any preamble or warning. The car was suddenly thrown forward into a violent flat spin, careening toward asteel side rail before smashing through and falling endlessly toward the infinite blue waters of the Bay far, far below.
He wanted to scream her precious name forever and forever. He hurled it with all his strength at the void to beat it back and prayed desperately for the salvation and the grace of her warm, tender, loving embrace.
He wondered if this was how it had been for Akane when it had been her time.
He did not want to die. Not yet.
He wanted to live.
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