Chapter Text
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 splendor 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.
His eyes were closed.
The deep-throated growl of the inline-six rang sonorously in his ears. The chassis and the seat beneath him vibrated soothingly in resonant harmony with the engine. A cool breeze whipped around the uncovered windscreen and beat pleasantly on his face and fluttered through his hair.
The car was a BMW Z-roadster. He understood why she had chosen her E85 over something modern and new. This particular machine was nearly 10 years old, but it was viscerally raw and alive.
A sweet, delicate waft of peach blossom scent drifted by.
He opened his eyes.
She was beside him in the driver's seat wearing a mini-length white shirtdress. A royal blue leather belt was cinched around her slim waist. A silk chiffon scarf with blue irises on a midnight black background was done up in an elegant cowl around her neck. Her slender, delicate arm confidently clicked 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.
She sensed his eyes on her and answered him with a warm, knowing smile. Then she slammed the throttle pedal hard into the floorboard, brazenly pushing the BMW to its electronically limited top speed of 155 mph. The roadster shot forward toward the Bay Bridge, which loomed majestically just over the horizon.
His chest throbbed with the weight of something deep and profound. He found himself realising all over again just how much he loved her and 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 came the Moment. Strangely, it was amazingly anticlimactic in its merciless lack of any preamble or warning. The car was thrown forward into a violent flat spin, careening toward a steel side rail before smashing through and falling toward the infinite blue waters of the Bay.
He screamed the woman's name. In that one word were all of his prayers for one last grace and salvation.
He wondered if the End had been the same for Akane when it had been her time.
He did not want to die. Not yet.
He wanted to live.
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