"Diane M. Brendan" <DianeBrendan@Yahoo.Com>


>[*]< WARNING!! First Fanfic Alert Initiated!!! WARNING!! >[*]<
DANGER, LENIER ROBINSON!  DANGER!

OK, this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, so everyone
please be kind to me.

This vignette (I really can't call it a story) is based upon
Nicholas Liefker's fanfic "Iris", and takes place more or less
concurrent to the last section of that story.  For reasons that
should be obvious, it is highly recommended that you read "Iris"
first in order to understand the underlying situation.  If you
haven't and decide to plunge ahead anyway, well, don't say I
didn't warn you.

Special thanks to Nicholas Leifker for his comments on my early
draft and for granting me permission to intrude upon his
territory.  Any continuity errors between his story and mine are
entirely my fault.

Insert the legendary Standard Takahashi Copyright Notice here.
Also throw in a similar notice for Mr. Leifker's "Iris".  Gee, I
guess you can call this a fanfic of a fanfic.

Comments & constructive criticism are always appreciated, flames
are not.  There are probably some whose sensibilities I am about
to offend, so if you decide you need to write to me please be
civil.  My email address for the time being is
DianeBrendan@Yahoo.Com (This will probably change in the near
future, but it is OK for the moment.)  There, I think that about
covers everything.  Enjoy.

-Diane Brendan
13 August, 1998

*************
Iris Again
by Diane Brendan


<The thing about accepting the inevitable,> Ranma observed as her
hands fumbled behind her, trying to latch the hooks, <is that
once you accept it, you can see just how stupid you've been. >
Her hands found each other, and after a moment's struggle she
managed to latch the damn thing together.  Then, she rotated a
shoulder, adjusted a strap to make it more comfortable, and
looked in the mirror.

<A bra,> she thought.  <I'll be wearing a bra for the rest of my
life.>

The undergarments -- a bra and a panty -- were plain white, as
simple and as unadorned with lace and frills as she could
possibly find.  Nevertheless, they were still lingerie, and that
was where the pause for thought was.  It wasn't as if she'd never
worn them before, of course.  True, those times had been rare,
and had mostly been as part of some harebrained plan or another -
- like a disguise to trick Ryouga, or a distraction against
Happosai.  Yet, from those experiences she knew that wearing the
garments were infinitely more comfortable than not, especially
with that pair of endowments the curse had given her.  There had
even been times (usually when having to contend with the
annoyance of bouncing breasts while trying to keep balance) that
the idea of maybe wearing at least the bra was tempting.  But...
He had always resisted the idea, always fought to keep those
garments as far away from His female form as possible.  It would
have been too much of a concession from His manhood, too much of
an acknowledgment of His female half, to allow that particular
luxury -- and if there was anything He'd been adamant about, it
was denying even a hint of femininity in Saotome Ranma.

Ranma shook her head.  She'd done her kata that morning wearing a
sports bra, and had found it so comfortable that she'd
practically cursed her former self for being so pigheaded.

She continued the gaze in the mirror, turning herself to view her
body from several different angles, as if considering herself for
the first time.  <It wasn't a bad body,> she thought. <If I had
to live the rest of my life this way, well, there were probably
worse things to be stuck as.>  She thought of several of her
friends; at least she was still human.

She'd started referring to herself in the feminine.  It had been
a jarring epiphany when she first realized that little detail.
Until then, she hadn't quite seen just how far the changes to her
psyche had taken her, only that they were changing.  She was
still finding it odd to think of herself that way, but decided it
was probably important not to fight it.  So now, when she looked
in the mirror, she saw the person she now took herself to be:
young, athletic, attractive -- and most definitively female.  Now
irrevocably so, both physically and (apparently, increasingly)
mentally as well.  It was something she had come to accept, even
if that realization had come with a degree of bitter-sweetness,
even if a part of her still wished it weren't so.  She was the
person that stared back at her, and that person was now Saotome
Ranma; there was nothing else to do but accept it and move on.

That simple realization had taken months of mental anguish and a
stint in a mental hospital to achieve.

It had almost cost her her life.

She sighed, turned away from the view, and crossed the room (<HER
room, not anyone else's, Mom and Dad having decided to rent an
apartment of their own.>) to her closet, all the time unconsciously
rubbing the faint scars on her wrists.  As she slid the door open,
she shook her head  again, and faced yet another change to become
used to.

<A wardrobe...  I have a WARDROBE now...>

The clothes were primarily hand-me-downs, mostly from Kasumi, but
a few items from Akane and even a fair amount from Nabiki
(although what her mother and Kasumi had done to pressure Nabiki
into giving something up without compensation, Ranma had no
desire to find out).  They were all conscious of the decision
she'd made in the hospital, and had done their best to choose
clothes they thought she'd approve of.  But yet, Ranma still
wondered if, after all this time, any of them had so much as a
clue as to what sort of a person she'd become.  Many of the items
in the closet -- frilly blouses, the odd skirt or dress, and just
about everything that was pink -- she had no intention of ever
wearing, and only tolerated their presence in her closet because
she hadn't yet thought of a tactful way of returning them.  It
was as if, upon learning that she had decided to accept The
Change, they had all assumed she was also going to become more
like them, which was most definitely not the case.  That, she
thought, might be the hardest thing for them to accept.

She thought back to the previous day, when Mom and Kasumi had
taken her shopping.  Granted, shopping trips had happened a few
times before her... suicide attempt (<Call it what it was, Ranma.
Face it, and don't ever try to pretend it was anything but.>),
but the results then had always been mixed.  Boys, or at best
androgynous, clothing were the usual end result, something which
always disappointed Mom.  But this time... this time it had been
at her request, and she greatly underestimated the enthusiasm
with which the two women would embrace the idea.  The gist, as
far as Ranma was concerned, had been to gain a much-needed
education in how to navigate the world of women's apparel --
learning about measurements, sizes, and the whole body of
everyday details she had once purposefully ignored but now needed
to know.  But as far as the older women were concerned
(especially her mother), it was as if the prodigal daughter had
returned, or at least come to her senses.  There hardly seemed a
dress or a skirt Mom did not point out or even hand over for her
to try on, and the disappointment in Mom's eyes was painfully
apparent, as only slacks and the plainest of shirts and blouses
made it to the fitting rooms.  Kasumi, bless her soul, at last
was able to console Mom by pointing out that, at least she'd
chosen clothes appropriate for her current gender.

She didn't avoid all of it, though.  After a day's worth of
disappointment, Ranma finally conceded to grant her mother one
indulgence: she'd let Mom drag her off to the cosmetics counter.
The first thing she did when they got home was to scrub her face
until it was almost raw.

<Don't they get it?> she wondered, for the umpteenth time. <I
said I had come to accept this.  I didn't say I was going to go
completely femme on them.  I'm not going to change myself, or my
interests, or the way I think, just because everyone thinks a
girl has to act differently from a boy.  If the last few months
have taught me anything, it's that I can accept it all on my
terms, not theirs.  The mind hasn't changed, only the body; I am
still Saotome Ranma, no matter what has happened.  If they can't
accept that, well, that's their problem, not mine!"

And yet...

There was another problem lurking just below the surface.  She
could feel it, but couldn't quite put her finger on it.  Her
acceptance, the self-use of the feminine pronoun, even the
clothes, were all pointing to a growing awareness of her female
self.  So... if she had become that much acclimated, maybe the
deeper question remained of just how much of her newly formed
feminine personae she was willing to let become, well, truly
female.

To her mind, the future was marked by two extremes.  She could,
on one hand, be female but ignore all the stereotypes and just go
on as if she'd never been forced to endure a gender change.
She'd probably end up being deemed "butch" (<Kind of like that
gaijin, Janet Reno.>, she thought), and might even end up a
lesbian.  Under the circumstances, her family and friends would
hardly blame her, (although she suspected some would be
disappointed), and she had to admit that the idea held a certain
amount of attraction to her.  But yet, she also found that there
was a fair amount of distaste as well, as if a residue from her
great gender identity crises.  If she took this position,
wouldn't she in fact be taking the same stance she had held
previously, almost terminally?  Would she one day find herself
returning to the same kind of nether hell from which she had only
recently surfaced?  Or would she just become old, living her life
as close to its uncursed form as she could manage, but finally
wishing for a taste of some of the roads that had not been taken?

But on the other hand -- if she couldn't be a man (at least not
the kind her parents though of), could she... would she... SHOULD
she... let herself become... a woman?

Was she, now that she had resigned herself to a female future, on
the way to adopting the feelings and desires of one as well?
Could she, for instance, allow herself to someday find men
attractive?  Could she even -- and the thought still made a
curious tightening in her stomach -- find one with whom she could
fall in love, marry and raise a family with?  Could SHE...
Saotome Ranma... allow herself to become so female as to become a
bride, a wife, even... a mother?

Her hand reached out for one of the articles of clothing Nabiki
had given her -- a black party dress that was anything but
demure.  She picked it up by the hanger and regarded it.  < Is
the day coming when I might wear this, and not think anything of
it?>  She looked around the room, and found the make-up kit Mom
had bought the day before, exiled to an unused corner.  <Am I
going to soon be using that stuff, just because I'll decide I
like the way it makes me look?>  She looked once more at the
dress.  <If I resist this, do I put myself back where I started?
Do I even want to resist it?>

She thrust the dress angrily back into the closet.  <No!  This is
stupid.  I can choose my own path.  I can choose what I want to
accept, when I want to accept it -- and I am most certainly NOT
going to second-guess myself!>  The dress fell to the floor,
where she purposefully ignored it.  <Dammit, it's not as if I am
the only female in the entire world.  Millions have come before
me, and they've lead just as fulfilling a life as I intend to
lead, without all of this crap to contend with.  There is nothing
that says I have to keep to their rules.>  Her hands found two
articles of clothing, a blouse that used to be Nabiki's and a
pair of new slacks she'd bought the day before.  Then, furtively,
she glanced down at the dress on the floor.  <OK,> she conceded,
<If it happens, it happens.  There's no use getting worked-up
about the future, because it'll be here no matter what I do.>
She looked at the clothes in her hands, and felt a smirk form on
her mouth. <Besides... none of this can possibly be worse than
death -- and I've already faced that down.>

There was a knock on the door, followed by Kasumi's cheerful
voice.  "Ranma... are you ready yet?  We're running late!"

"I'll be there in a minute.  I'm just getting dressed."

"Do, um, you need any help?"

<What, do you think a girl can't dress herself?>  "No, I'll be
fine.  I'll be downstairs in a few."

Ranma put on the blouse, momentarily forgetting that the buttons
were on the opposite side from which she -- as a he -- had been
used to.  The slacks came next, and as she zipped them up she
found herself once more conscious of the differences female
clothing on a female body felt.  Unlike the male slacks she'd
been used to wearing, which were designed for hips and waist of
about the same size, female slacks took into account the fact
that her waist was trimmer than her hips, and so did not always
feel as if they were about to slip off.  Another bit of comfort
she did not have to deny herself anymore.  As had been her wont
of late, she shook her head.  "If it happens, it happens." she
muttered to herself.

She quickly put on a pair of sox (white, with some pinkish
edging), and gathered up the few items (money, identification)
she wanted to take with her.  Once gathered, she looked at them,
contemplated putting them into the pockets of her slacks, then
stopped to reconsider.  <Oh, to hell with it.>  She hurriedly
picked up a small purse that had once been Akane's, threw the
items into it, then thrust her arm through the purse-strap and
onto her shoulder.  <I never liked carrying things in my pockets
anyway.>

Kasumi greeted her as she came down the stairs.  No one else was
around, thank goodness, because if Kasumi's subdued reaction to
the clothing were any indication, she'd have probably gone back
upstairs and changed immediately.  <At least she's trying to
pretend there's nothing unusual here.>  "Ready?" the older woman
asked.

"Yes, I'm ready."  Ranma said, resolutely.

The drive to the hospital was thankfully quiet.  Kasumi tried
some small talk, but after a few moments mercifully left Ranma to
her thoughts.  She was conscious that there were some things
about the new her that they didn't quite understand.  But then
again, there were some things she was still finding out herself,
so she supposed the confusion was understandable.

Tatewaki was one of those things.  In what was probably the most
surprising development of the year, the Blue Thunder of Furinkan
High School had suddenly emerged as possibly the closest friend
she had.  They'd found things in the other that they needed for
themselves, and as a result  had managed to bring each other back
from the brink of oblivion.  Of all the people in the world,
she'd found he was the only one with whom she could discuss some
things; not even Akane could claim the same, and they'd grown
incredibly close.  No, Tatewaki and her had managed to face down
the same demons; it was important now that each continued to do
so.

Which was why she'd gone to such great lengths to secure him a
teaching job at the dojo.  Which was also why she was now on her
way to greet him on his release.

Most of the others, thank goodness, were prepared to accept at
face value her word that all of this was important.  Akane
undeniably did, although Ranma knew that deep down her former
fiancee certainly didn't, not really.  <I'm sorry, Akane, but
there are some things I cannot explain, not even to you.> After
all, she mused, it was hard enough explaining some of these
things to herself...

Then, in a moment of sudden clarity, she realized what the
problem was that had pricked at her unconsciously all morning.
She stared ahead, silently, stunned.

<No... no, I can't have come that far... can I?>

She knew how Tatewaki thought of her, even now.  She had, in a
way, almost encouraged it this time, because by doing so it had
brought them together when they needed each other the most.  But
what she hadn't quite thought out, what she hadn't quite thought
through, was the impact such closeness might be having on her.
Still be having on her.

She began to shake.  With an effort, she willed herself to stop,
and covered her change in mood by turning to stare out the
passenger window.  They were getting close to the hospital now;
she could even see the roof of the main building in the distance.
<Decide.  Decide now.  Decide how you're going to handle this,
because in about ten minutes you're going to be facing him.>  She
continued to stare out the window, and realized that she could
see a reflection of herself in the glass.  She concentrated on
her image, on what she saw.

Saotome Ranma, young female.  Yes, she knew that.

She thought about who was ahead.  Kunou Tatewaki, young male.

She thought about the implications of such a combination.  Once
more, she began to shake.  <Dear God... am I ready for this?>

She thought back to the day's trains of thought.  Female body,
female clothes, female personae... female emotions?  Female
feelings?  Female... desires?

Was she ready for this?

<No.> a voice told her, inside. <No, you are not.>

But then she felt another voice, just as loud, just as insistent.
A voice she had sometimes suppressed.  <Yes.  Yes, you are.>

They were pulling into the parking lot of the hospital.  She
realized that time was running out.  She also realized that the
tightening in her stomach had returned.

<If I continue this, where will it end?  Do I want Tatewaki as a
friend, or... as something more?  Can I even let myself go far
enough for it to be possible?>

<Can I afford not to?>

A part of her could see it, she realized.  A part of her could
easily imagine a scenario that involved Kunou Tatewaki as the
lover of Saotome Ranma... more dimly, fantastically, could even
glimpse a distant figure named Kunou Ranma... and could do so
without qualms, or shakes, or stomach turns.  And what frightened
her the most, what made the whole prospect so mind-numbing, was
that this part of her didn't find the prospect frightening at
all.

Saotome Ranma, man in woman's body, or Saotome Ranma, woman?

She'd crossed the line.  She was female now -- so she told
herself, constantly.  But was it only now that she was beginning
to see what that truly meant?

And all at once, the answer came to her.

"If it happens, it happens." she said to herself.

Kasumi glanced to her.  "Pardon?" she asked.  The car pulled to a
stop in a parking spot.

"Sorry.  Nothing."  She met Kasumi's questioning gaze.  "Just a
random thought."

As she stepped out of the car, she found the shakes had stopped
and her stomach was no longer doing somersaults.  What was more,
a curious calm had descended.

<If it happens, it happens.  If one day I decide that I like
Tatewaki enough to want him, well, then so be it.  If not... the
point has always been that it is my life, not anyone else's.  I
can make decisions and mistakes just like anyone else.  What I
can't be is afraid... of the change, of the future, of anything.
I have the rest of my life to be happy with, and what matters
where I find that happiness, so long as I do?>

As the two women walked into the visitor's area, an older
gentleman held the door open for them.  He tipped his hat.  A
younger man, an orderly that Ranma remembered, stood just inside
the doorway.  He obviously did not recognize her as a former
patient (<Must be the shorter hair.>, she thought), for he gave
her a quick but appreciative once-over.  Ranma found she didn't
mind that quite as much she once would have.

She looked around the room, and breathed a sigh.  Some, most, of
the people around her she recognized from her institution.  If
she needed any motivation to stay her course, she had but to look
around.  <Yes, there really are fates worse than death.>

<Which, I suppose, is really the point of all this.   I'm still
here, I'm still alive... and I've decided I want to stay that
way.  When you get right down to it, that's all that really
matters.>

There was a mirror in the lounge area, and as they took seats she
found herself examining her reflection.   <So there are still
issues I haven't quite resolved.  Fine.  Guess what?  None of
them can change the central fact that I AM going to get on with
my life.  Everything else is just... details.>

Kasumi excused herself to find a washroom, leaving Ranma to her
thoughts.  After a long stare she finally turned her attention
from the mirror and to the doorway, from which she knew he'd be
stepping from.  The wait was longer than they'd told her it would
be; paperwork, offerings upon the altar of medical bureaucracy,
were evidently holding things up.  The additional moments gave
her more time to prepare for the meeting to come -- and all that
would come after.

<I have to be honest with him, at least until I've sorted it all
out.  We're going to be working together, after all, now and for
the foreseeable future.  I suppose that also means I have to
watch myself, not let him expect anything more than what I've
already promised... correction, will promise -- I forgot, he
doesn't know yet about that college scheme Nabiki's cooked up.>
She took a deep breath and could hear movement in the next room
over.  <Right now, I need a friend I can lean on, and for better
or worse Tatewaki is now it.  As for what that might lead to...
well, the future will see to that.>

From the other side of a door, she heard a familiar voice.
Immediately, she jumped to her feet, and found herself stealing a
quick glance at herself in the mirror, running her hands through
her hair one last time.  She abruptly stopped and looked at her
reflection.  Then she laughed quietly to herself.  <Stop it.
There are more important things to worry about.>

The door opened, and Kunou stepped out.  He didn't notice her at
first, and in that split moment she had time to look at him from
a new vantage point.

<You know, you can almost see why the girls at Furinkan thought
he was cute.>

<Almost.>

She smiled, gave him a shout to attract his attention...

...and stepped into the future.

**************

AUTHOR'S NOTES
A couple of comments before I leave you all.

1) Before everyone emails me with the same comment, let me say
that I have no idea what the likelihood is that Ranma would know
who Janet Reno is.  However, I would like to point out that,
according to a recent poll among Japanese businessmen concerning
who they thought was the sexiest woman in America, Janet Reno
placed at the top of their list.  The reason for this seems to be
because she is perceived to be a powerful woman.  Is it just me,
or doesn't this say a lot about Japanese culture?

2) OK, I lied.  I can't think of anything else to comment about.
Just another general comment about constructive feedback.  If
you've read this far then, well, thank you.

Until next time, Ja Ne!
-Diane Brendan
DianeBrendan@Yahoo.Com