WARNING!  What follows is an absolutely shameless self-insertion fanfic, featuring the author as hero and main character.  I apologize sincerely, and promise never, ever, to do it again.  In my defense I can only say that in the Ultima series of computer role-playing games, from which much of this is taken, the main character is supposed to be the player, magically transported to a fantasy world and drafted into the role of Hero.
     This will, however, be a story in which the hero (me, more or less) shows up in Nerima, gets involved with the cast of Ranma 1/2, who he may well be more powerful than in certain limited ways, and tries his best to Put Things Right.  In other words, you have been warned.  Again, my humblest apologies, and never, never again…

     There is a secret history of the world.
     It is a tale of chaos and destruction that did not occur, of the rise and fall of nations that never existed, of courageous deeds and terrible sacrifices that never took place.
     Everyone who has ever lived or ever will was a part of that history, or would have been, if it had actually happened.  But only a handful of souls remember the world as it never was: only those of us who were elsewhere—outside Time’s flow—when what should be was replaced by what should never have been, and who fought to restore the Earth we know.
     We honestly believed no one else would ever remember the false reality.
     We were wrong…


     The dream was always the same.
     (The dream was one he’d never dreamed before.)
     A city, vast and ancient.  The Wall encircled it, three hundred feet thick and near five hundred high, sheer and slick and spotted with immense gun emplacements, bearing the scars of a hundred thousand battles.
     Within, the streets were narrow and crooked; the ground floor of each building lacked windows or doors, retractable ladders leading to entrances above.  Any invaders would find death at every turn.  The steel-and-concrete architecture left little room for artistic endeavor, but now and then a blank wall would be broken by vibrant murals, or a window graced by elaborate statuary.
     He was there, a child, raised to defend this his home with all his might.  Its name rang in his heart, a golden song of hope.
     Great Yamato.
     A city that could not fall to any foe, that had stood for ten thousand years and would stand as long again, a refuge against the Dark that ruled the outer world.
     A city doomed.
     He was there, a child, as the Wall was shattered, as the unhuman armies poured into the streets, as stone and metal burned, as all hope died.
     On the deck of a storm-tossed ship, he watched the age-old city perish, watched Yamato the invincible crumble and burn, watched the destruction of the home he’d sworn to protect…
     It was the same dream he’d
     (never had before)
     had, off and on, all his life.
     Saotome Ranma awoke with a scream of unbearable loss.

The Evil Midnight Lurker what Lurks at Midnight
in association with
The Insane Banana
presents

RANMA 1/2 - ULTIMA 7 & 3/8:
THE MARTIAL VIRTUES

by W. Samuel Ashley

One: HONESTY

     It felt damned odd, putting on modern American casual wear in Castle British.  Here on the medieval world of Sosaria, though, the locals are well aware of the existence of Earth, so the sight of a man decked out in T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers wouldn’t arouse much interest—but someone in full plate armor walking around Earthly city streets would draw unwanted attention, even in California.  Even in my hometown, one of the silliest spots in the state.
     And, if all went well, I’d actually be back there within the hour.  Back on Earth.  Back…
     …well, not home.  Not anymore.
     How many times had I made the crossing, spent months or years on this side of the ’gate, and returned to find only hours or days had gone by?  So many adventures, so many years, and still I’d always thought of Earth as my home, as the place to rest between the wars.
     Always, until now.
     Funny how love changes things.
     I had to go back, one last time.  But then I’d return to Sosaria, to Britannia, to stay.

[more later]