Into Every Life, a Little Rain Must Fall

A Ranma 1/2 (manga) fanfic by Nemesis_Zero



Act 3:  Shuffling the Deck of Fate

Part 2



"Insider" Pre-readers:
Freak 247

"Outsider" Pre-readers:
Aondehafka


Recap of Last Chapter:

	Ranma experienced yet another dream encounter with the mysterious Norou 
Mizumei, after which he awoke to find himself lying in a crater amidst his 
fallen peers and the remains of the Furinkan High gymnasium.  Trusting 
Gosunkugi to get help, he ran off in search of a cure to the potentially 
fatal condition the other combatants are now in.  His search took him back to 
the enchanted forest of Ryuganzawa where he encountered an old rival, Kumon 
Ryu, and shared a campfire.

	Meanwhile back in Nerima, things were not proceeding as usual.  Nabiki 
woke from a vivid nightmare into a waking one, discovering that three days 
have passed since Ranma's fight with Kuno and that he had not been seen or 
hear of since, prompting her to begin a search immediately.  Other news from 
the Tendo household involved Akane gaining a deeper understanding of the true 
nature of the Anything-Goes School and Happosai meeting his end at the hands 
of an unidentified assailant.

	Ukyo continued to run her restaurant despite injuries while Tsubasa 
made his escape from Azusa's clutches and the other half of the Golden Pair 
experimented with alternate lifestyle choices.  Both Tatewaki and Kodachi, 
with help from the Amazons (sans a comatose Cologne) and Taro, respectfully, 
finally learned of the existence of Jusenkyo curses through very different 
methods.  They reacted quite poorly to the insinuation that Ranma and the 
Pigtailed Girl are one and the same, however.



--?????--

	The late morning air was a bit chilly and damp, but not uncomfortably 
so.  Last night's rain turned the battered yard into a giant mud pit.  Seeing 
several large puddles about the yard had him quite concerned, but at least 
she wouldn't want to do any sparring with her injuries, and hence he could 
safely stay on the wooden walkway.  There was a larger concern on Ryoga's 
mind at the moment though, one that did not threaten him so much as it did 
her.

	"Are you really sure you want to learn this stuff Akane?" he asked, 
seriously.  "Chi attacks aren't just another technique to master like a punch 
or kick, there's a much more personal side to it.  Doing one means looking 
deep into the parts of yourself you wish weren't there and sort of throwing 
them out into the open.  Even after all the emotional stuff you have to 
remember that throwing blasts too often or too large can leave you really 
sluggish for a while, more open to attack."

	"Yeah, yeah..." Akane replied, waving her good hand dismissively.  "Of 
course I'm sure, Ryoga.  This could be just what I need to get an edge on the 
others and spur myself back into some serious training.  I'm not afraid of 
facing up to anything in my subconscious."

	Ryoga sighed and shook his head wearily.  "You don't understand, Akane.  
Using these techniques... it changes you.  Ever since I learned the Shi-Shi 
Hokodan it's been harder and harder to keep my spirits up for any length of 
time.  I was a bit melancholy before, but now there are times when I'm sure 
that if I didn't have someo... er, -something- I still had to do I might just 
sink so deep into depression that I'd never crawl out again."

	"Ryoga... I never knew," she whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder 
as he blushed slightly.  "Defeating Ranma must really mean quite a bit to 
you."

	"Er, of course," he replied too quickly, "That's what rivals are for."

	She smiled.  "Still, I don't think it will be that much of a problem 
for me, Ryoga.  I could always try and concentrate on something positive 
instead, like Ranma does with confidence."

	His blush faded into a rather stern frown.  "There's nothing positive 
about Ranma's Moko Takabisha attack either, Akane.  If it's based on 
confidence like he says, then it's more likely that he's only feeding his 
overconfidence by using it.  I'd say that Ranma's ego has grown steadily 
since he learned that technique.  His overconfidence almost got you killed in 
Jusendo when he insisted on being the one to hold you and then fighting 
Saffron, and he was acting like a complete ass every time I saw him last 
week."  ...Not to mention what effects the angry red tones in his blasts 
lately might cause, or whatever emotion is driving that black thing.

	That last statement seemed to have given her pause, for Akane stood 
silently for a moment in thought.  At length, and with a bit of trepidation, 
she inquired, "But does that mean that chi attack necessarily has to be based 
on something negative?  I mean, I though the emotion was only a way to focus 
the chi, but that it didn't really matter once you threw it."

	"Well, that's a tricky one to answer," Ryoga admitted.  "I think my 
perfect Shi-Shi Hokodan acts the way it does because of the depression used 
to form it, but since I've never seen anyone else use a purely chi-based 
attack as large based on something else I can't say for sure.  I'm pretty 
sure that the emotion used affects the color of the blast though, since mine 
are always a shade of blue and Ranma's are usually orange."

	"As far as negative emotions being necessary goes," he continued, "I'm 
not entirely sure either.  If the chi is formed by emotion, I think that the 
emotion used has a lot to do with how that chi reacts with others.  If you 
want to do harm you need an emotion that is harmful; an emotion like 
friendship or compassion would be better suited to a technique used to heal."  

	Akane stood up a little straighter, with her lips tightened and her 
nostrils flared, as she declared, "Well, I suppose I'll just have to learn to 
control it then.  I'll never get any better if I'm too afraid of the 
consequences to try."

	Ryoga matched her determined eyes.  "Very well, Akane.  I'll show you 
the steps to my chi attack, but I want you to try and find a different 
emotion to base your attack on, something better suited to your personality 
and hopefully less harmful to you than mine is.  I also want you to promise 
me something though, Akane; that you won't use your chi attack unless you 
have no other option."

	"I promise, but only if you do too, Ryoga." Akane replied. "I don't 
want you to keep hurting yourself either."

	He thought for a moment and tried, unsuccessfully, to count the number 
of times he'd considered suicide since learning the technique.  He then tried 
to count the number of times that using the technique as anything but a final 
recourse had actually helped him in a fight, and was forced to admit to 
himself that it was a rather small number.

	With a resigned sigh, he nodded.  "For both our sakes, I promise.  Once 
you've recovered a bit maybe we can try and figure out a better way to use 
them, one that doesn't hurt anyone but the target.  I could be wrong, but 
that dragon prince guy used white chi for all his attacks, and it didn't feel 
like there was an emotion involved in making them.  I think that he was 
pulling in chi from outside of himself to boost his attacks."

	"It's agreed then!" Akane stated with a wide smile.  "You'll be my 
sensei, and while we're training we can try and improve upon the technique 
together.  Boy, won't Ranma be surprised when we can do something he can't!"

	He was a bit doubtful on that last note, but Ryoga found her almost 
giddy attitude contagious.  "Alright Akane, I'll give you a demonstration, up 
close and as slow as I can manage.  Pay close attention."  

	"Yes, sensei," she replied eagerly from a few feet to his right side as 
he took a wide stance with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

	"First, you have to concentrate on your chosen focus emotion."  Images 
of his last, very humiliating defeat at Ranma's hands in this very yard a few 
days ago immediately sprang to mind.  Through gritted teeth, he continued, 
"Choose an image or thought and keep replaying it in your head until you 
almost can't stand it anymore.  Once you've got it stuck, let your battle 
aura form."

	Ryoga closed his eyes tightly, fighting to keep the power level 
contained to a just a small blast as he went through the process slowly and 
meticulously, the image of Ranma's smirking face just before he released his 
final attack firmly logged in his brain.  His aura burst forth almost 
uncontrollably in a wave of flame-like tendrils that felt slightly painful on 
his skin.  "Next you have to will it to gather into one spot.  I try to 
imagine it wrapping around itself in thin streamers, like a tightly wound 
ball of string."

	The energy began to coalesce into a brightly glowing spot between his 
arms and just in front of his chest.  His head began to throb with his 
heartbeat, and cold sweat was dripping off of his brow.  As the ball grew his 
stomach and bowels cramped painfully.  "As it finishes solidifying, gather it 
between your hands and prepare to throw it," he instructed, pulling the ball 
and both his hands down with a slow motion to rest at the right side of his 
gut.

	The burning sensation was intensifying in his palms, moving beyond a 
simple stinging into genuine pain.  A wave of dizziness washed over him, and 
he felt a sudden sharp pain in his side nearest the ball.  He realized that 
something was definitely wrong with doing this technique slowly, and as a bit 
of fear grew in his mind the tint of the ball changed from grayish blue to a 
yellowish green.  Still, he was determined to show her the technique in this 
manner to make it easier for her to copy, even if that meant some discomfort 
on his part.  

	"Finally," he stated in shaky tones between uneven breaths, "Release 
your pain toward your target, and be free of its burden!"  Ryoga thrust his 
hands toward the pile of remaining wreckage of the dojo, but the chi blast 
did not shoot away as he expected it to.  Instead, it exploded between his 
fingers, throwing him violently backward in an uncontrolled flipping motion.  
The motion stopped when he crashed into the wall of the house upside down and 
face first, then crumpled to the ground.

	Through the haze of approaching unconsciousness, he heard Akane 
speaking to him.  "Ryoga?  Ryoga, answer me!"  She shook him by the shoulder, 
but he could not find the strength of will to open his eyes or reply.  It was 
getting harder to hear her, and his side felt warm and wet.

	"Oh my god, someone call a doctor!"

--/////--

	It was exactly 12:07.  Sato Toji was now seven minutes late.

	He lowered his watch quickly and disdainfully, but was forced to squint 
as glare reflecting off of the device's face cruelly assaulted his sleep-
deprived senses.  Tatewaki rubbed his pained eyes and leaned back against the 
front wall of the small downtown restaurant that Toji had chosen as their 
meeting place.

	It was a rather warm day, he noted as he stifled a yawn, and quite 
pleasantly devoid of rain, though a few large, pillow-like clouds were still 
drowsily making their aimless way across the otherwise spotless sky.  The 
sidewalk was faintly buzzing with traffic, ranging from passers-by to the 
occasional customer to the store, though not enough to truly make one feel 
crowded.  The easy flow of friendly conversation from these pedestrians 
blended together, if one chose to simply close their eyes for a moment and 
listen passively, into an almost hypnotic easy drone of white noise.  A 
delightful smell of foodstuffs from within the store wafted out to him 
whenever the door was opened which filled him with a faintly satisfied 
sensation...

	"Um, Kuno-Sempai?"

	Tatewaki snapped his eyes open immediately and jerked slightly away 
from the wall against which he had been reclining.  Stretching his shoulders 
slightly, he glanced at his watch which told him the time was now 12:26.  
Pushing through the remaining lethargic fog in his mind he stated 
sarcastically, "So, Mr. Sato, you finally choose to grace me with your 
presence specifically at this most opportune moment."

	"I apologize for my tardiness, Captain," Toji said with a moderate bow.  
"My new girlfriend, Hitomi, asked me for help with her homework.  Her spoken 
language skills are passable, but I'm afraid she hasn't learned much of the 
written language yet."

	"Cease your prattle of excuses; I care not for the troubles of this 
half-western girl of yours," the senior kendoist replied coldly.  "Pray tell, 
are you aware of the reason for this meeting?"

	"I... no, actually I don't know why you asked me to meet with you 
today, sir.  Any business dealing with the team would most efficiently have 
been handled before our joint practice next week with the Kolkhoz team, and 
to be honest we've never had any social dealings outside of kendo."  Toji 
continued as his senior stifled yet another yawn, "If it would be more 
convenient for you we could arrange to meet again at a later time.  Perhaps 
when you are more fully rested?"

	Kuno's eyes narrowed at the slightly shorter boy.  "I assure you I am 
abundantly capable of conducting this gathering now, Mr. Sato.  Your newfound 
doting maiden will simply have to improve her intimacy with the virtue of 
patience."  He pressed on, ignoring the slight stammer of his subordinate, 
"That which we shall discus today is of both a personal and a sporting 
nature.  As my second, I thought to come to you before discussing the matter 
in a less discrete theater."

	"Ah, so it is a matter you would prefer to keep from becoming public," 
Toji replied with a nod.  "If I may be of assistance, Captain, please do not 
hesitate to ask.  You can trust me to act only in your best interests."

	Tatewaki continued, "It is precisely on this topic that my concern is 
centered, Sato.  I am curious on the topic of potential ways in which you may 
have acted in my 'best interests' previously without consulting me prior to 
said incident."

	"I don't understand your line of questioning, Captain," the smaller 
young man replied.

	The senior explained, "During my recent bout with Saotome I noticed a 
particular lack of knowledge on his part concerning the rules and regulations 
of the event.  Were you not assigned to insure that he was properly prepared 
for the match?"

	Sato balked slightly at the insinuation.  "I tried my best to teach 
Ranma the regulations but he was too impatient to listen to me!  He ignored 
the majority of what I told him and left before I was finished explaining it 
all!"

	"Hmm..." Kuno considered for a moment, turning aside for a moment, 
"Yes, that does quite have the ring of Saotome's typical behavior about it."

	"Is that all you wished to discuss today?" Sato asked hopefully.

	"Still," Tatewaki continued, ignoring the question, "you obviously did 
not put forth enough effort in impressing upon my foe the importance of the 
various regulations of the challenge.  I am not at all pleased to have won 
our match in such a... technical... fashion."

	"But a win is always better than a loss, right?" the subordinate 
offered with a slightly nervous air.

	"No, Toji, it is not so in every case." Kuno paused for a moment before 
asking, "Tell me, do you believe I would have come out unfavorably in this 
confrontation were it not for Saotome's lack of knowledge?"

	Sato's jaw line set solidly.  "To be quite frank sir, you haven't 
beaten Ranma in a fight before now.  If I were in your position, with such a 
long history of trouble, I would gladly claim a win in any way that I could."

	"Would you?" Tatewaki demanded.  "Would you allow yourself the ill-
gained satisfaction of a victory not claimed through skill but rather through 
circumstances?  Would not such a victory cheapen in your mind any results of 
that confrontation even if love, that most precious of all heavenly gifts, 
were precisely what was at stake?"

	Toji remained firm if not outright defiant.  "I can't elaborate on that 
point, Captain.  What I can say, however, is that the team as a whole was 
glad to see you finally defeat him and restore some much needed respect to 
our ranks."

	"Am I to believe that my fellows blame my recent difficulties for our 
declining status?" Kuno demanded, leaning into the space of his second.  
"That they saw my personal failures as their captain as a weakness to be 
removed from their ranks?"

	"Yes." Toji admitted ruefully, looking away.

	"Enough so that they believed that the highest form of cheating, in the 
very sport for which they profess admiration through their willing social 
participation no less, to be their best recourse?"

	"What... What do you mean, Captain?" Toji replied, backing slightly 
away as his superior produced a bokken from the folds of his deeply pleated 
pants.

	"Saotome's protective gear," was Kuno's sole reply.

	Sato Toji was quiet for a moment, but finally decided to growl in 
response, "Yes, damn it, we tampered with his gear.  I admit it only because 
we did so for your sake and for the preservation of what little respect our 
team still holds despite your constant public losses and ridiculous antics.  
We decided as a team when you told us about your plan that this would be the 
final chance you would have to prove yourself worthy of our service."

	"Then may I assume that you fancied the notion of ascending to my 
position if I failed?" Tatewaki asked, raising his bokken to a two handed 
fighting grip.
	 
	Toji eyed the bokken but did not back down.  "I'll still have no 
trouble taking the position from you if you strike me now, Kuno.  I have no 
doubt that the Kolkhoz's athletic department will be far less sympathetic to 
your behavior than our school's was, on account of your father."

	"Give this message to the rest of your team then, Sato Toji," Kuno 
demanded, raising his bokken high above his head. He then shifted his grip to 
the ends of the wooden implement, and then brought it down level to Toji's 
eyes.  With a mighty show of strength he bent the weapon until it shattered, 
spraying splinters across the sidewalk, quickly followed by flinging the 
broken halves at his former teammates' feet. 

	"Tell them that they are not worthy of my leadership," Kuno spat 
angrily.  "Tell them that they have disgraced themselves and everything this 
team ever stood for.  Lastly, tell them that I will be making this incident 
very public indeed."  He finished by spitting on the shattered remains and 
turning away from the presence of his former second.

	"Like anyone will ever believe your word against ours, you complete 
embarrassment," the younger boy sneered derisively as he walked away.  "You 
just try it and see what it gets you!"

	Tatewaki declined to reply, steadfastly ignoring the continued 
existence of this individual until he had left the area.  Feeling the 
presence depart at last he reopened his eyes to look sadly at the ruined 
splinters of his bokken.  With a sigh he turned from the remains and began 
his journey back to his not-at-all humble abode and some much needed rest.

	He hadn't even taken a second step, however, before he was forced to 
roll to the side in order to dodge a jump kick from above with enough force 
behind it to pierce the sidewalk. 

--@@@@@--

	Removing his foot from the rubble of now vacant pavement, he turned to 
face his target.  "It wasn't very wise to disarm yourself, fool," he 
admonished his target.

	The slightly older boy recovered from his rolling dodge into a 
crouching defensive stance a few meters away, turned at an angle and with his 
hands held open and unevenly before him.  "Forgive my ignorance then; I 
thought I hadn't scheduled any cowardly attacks this afternoon."

	"Neither your broken weapon nor your ignorance will protect you from 
me, Japanese boy," Mousse smirked as he brought his hands together before his 
chest, both completely hidden by his flowing grey robe.  "You can swear off 
your attachment to Shampoo now or wait until after I beat it out of you; it 
makes no difference to me."

	Kuno's gaze didn't waver, though his hands shifted to a slightly lower 
position.  "You waste your time, 'fowl' one.  I will not be threatened by the 
likes of you."

	"Then be killed by the likes of me!" Mousse howled, leaping high and 
towards his unarmed opponent.  He willed his chi to shift as he reached the 
apex of his jump, envisioning several lengths of spiked chain in his mind as 
his flung both his sleeves forward.  Rather than the slightly empty feeling 
he usually expected when using his hidden weapons techniques, however, there 
was instead a wave of nausea and burning pain in his arms.  In a briefly 
detached moment of thought he realized that it was the same sensation that 
had thrown off his aim the last time he attacked this boy.

	His thoughts snapped quickly back to the present when he realized that 
the chains had not flown at his target at all, leaving him in the rather 
awkward position of jumping with open arms at his target.  With a twist of 
his arms and torso at the last moment he managed to alter his jump into a 
spinning heel kick, but the older boy merely ducked the improvised attack and 
retaliated with a stiff double palm strike to the back before his feet found 
purchase.

	Now it was his turn to tuck and roll, negating the potentially painful 
fall.  Springing back to his feet he found his opponent still stiffly poised, 
awaiting his next attack with a silent glare.  Already the phantom pain in 
his arms was fading, but the slight discomfort in his stomach remained.  He 
attempted to strike again, this time picturing several small throwing darts 
with bright red streamers on their handles as he threw his sleeve-covered 
arms forward.  With an unexpected sharp pain the projectiles emerged from his 
sleeves as expected, but with only enough force behind them to clatter along 
the pavement to his opponent's feet.

	"This technique seems doomed to failure, miscreant," Kuno intoned as he 
gazed momentarily at the pathetic attempt at an attack that now lay at his 
feet.  "Perhaps you should try something different?"

	"Don't presume to lecture me on tactics, fool!" the Amazon snarled as 
he charged, closing the distance with a jumping snap kick.  His opponent 
leaned back to avoid the strike and quickly slap-parried the next two follow-
up punches.  A feint knee strike opened up the older boy's guard enough for a 
left hook to land a glancing blow, but his next attack, a spinning leg sweep, 
was countered effectively by simply moving the front leg above the kick and 
then using it to kick the Amazon in the chest.

	Mousse blocked the kick with both arms but it was still hard enough to 
topple him.  He rolled backwards from his opponent and sprang back to his 
feet with a counterstrike, but found that the older boy had not moved to 
pursue at all.  Instead he resumed his former crouching posture and seemed to 
be simply waiting.

	"Why don't you attack?" the robed boy snarled as he charged in with a 
straight punch.  Kuno stepped inside the arc of the swing, grabbed the 
attacker's robe with both hands, and pivoted at the waist to toss him several 
meters.  Twisting in the air, however, Mousse managed to get his feet back 
under him before he landed.  Without pausing he rebounded, offering a jumping 
lunge kick feint that, with a violent twist, became a flying roundhouse.

	Caught unprepared, Tatewaki reeled with the blow and staggered back 
several steps.  He quickly took up his defensive posture yet again, but this 
time his left arm, the closer of the two to his body, was held at a much 
lower position that no longer effectively blocked his head.  "Finish what you 
started," Kuno commanded with an unblinking stare.

	Sensing a weakness in his opponent's guard, Mousse pressed in to throw 
a quick snap-punch one-two combination.  The first strike was predictably 
blocked but the second snuck past the kendoist's arms to collide with his 
chin.  The older boy rolled with the punch but quickly recovered, capturing 
this overextended arm at the wrist with his left hand and pulling it farther 
across his chest to draw his opponent's face stiffly into his right elbow.

	Mousse twisted away from the grip on his left hand easily enough, but 
now found an iron hard grasp on his right wrist.  As Kuno swung his now free 
left hand to strike, Mousse reacted	by throwing his leg fully over his 
opponent's grappling arm as he leaned his torso out of reach of the 
kendoist's swing, then delivered a snap kick from the knee into his 
opponent's surprised face.  The blow was apparently successful only in 
angering his target, who promptly grabbed the offending leg, kicked the other 
hard at the ankle and simultaneously pulled down sharply on the grappled arm 
to throw the Amazon forcefully to the street, face-first.  

	Now without his glasses, still slightly dazed from the impact and held 
by two limbs, Mousse twisted his hips to attempt a scissors kick on his 
opponent's head.  The blow missed when Kuno instead chose to drop to a knee 
behind him, but at least the maneuver allowed him to free his leg.  

	As Mousse brought his legs back underneath him to regain some leverage 
he felt his arm jerked straight up against his ear by the wrist.  Suddenly 
the grip was released in favor of an arm position across his straightened 
elbow ending with Kuno's wrist firmly pressed against the back of his neck as 
his adversary's free hand came around from the side to press in a similar 
fashion against his windpipe.

	"Did you perchance believe me defenseless without my chosen tool?" Kuno 
asked smugly as he increased the pressure of the choke, obviously not caring 
for an answer.  "In the wisdom of samurai long departed it was noted that 
even the best warrior might once be caught without his blade, and for just 
such a circumstance it is vital to train in an unarmed style as well as in 
mastery of the sword."

	Mousse flailed now, searching for a way to break the hold.  His right 
arm was held straight up, pinned against both his own head, his opponent's 
chin, and braced at the elbow.  His left arm was free but could only find his 
opponent's right shoulder and left arm within striking distance, and quickly 
discovered that a blow to either spot resulted in a jolt to his already 
straining neck.  Pulling on the arm choking from the front was responded to 
by his opponent shifting his weight forward, alleviating none of the pressure 
and adding pain to his back.  Any attempt to push off with his legs was met 
by a twisting of the torso that left his feet once again without leverage and 
caused yet another jolt to his neck.

	"Were I in such a position I would resign myself to defeat," Kuno 
recommended seriously.  "There is but one open way to freedom and treading 
this path can only end in pronounced suffering, I assure you."

	The Amazon's mind whirled furiously even as tiny black and purplish 
spots began to dance across his blurred vision.  He was beginning to feel 
lightheaded and his lungs burned for air.  "What can I do?" his mind 
screamed.  "My arms are useless and so are my legs.  I can't twist away from 
it, can't afford to wait it out, and can't get enough leverage to break his 
grip.  All I can really move is my... head..."

	Closing his eyes against the now rather large drifting spots, Mousse 
quickly turned his head to the side and jerked his neck to the right, 
slipping between the slight gap of his adversary's hands.  He immediately 
took a gasping breath as he continued to pull his body to the right with all 
the strength he could muster.

	Kuno replied to the move, however, by twisting the younger man's right 
arm behind his back and locking it in a partially bent position with both 
arms.  With just a slight forward shift from the waist Tatewaki forced the 
Amazon to fall forward onto his other shoulder heavily.  Softly grumbling 
"You were warned," he braced a knee against the amazon's back and wrenched 
his weight backwards in a sharp jerk, accompanied by two sickeningly rough, 
grinding pops.

	"AAARRRHHHGGHH!" was the only reply that seemed appropriate to Mousse 
at the moment as his arm erupted in searing pain from both his elbow and 
shoulder.  He rapidly crawled away from his opponent on all three functioning 
limbs, putting some distance between them before he regained his footing, 
shakily.

	"Do you yield," his opponent asked wearily, "or must I cripple you 
further?"

	 His right arm was completely useless now, merely a dead weight at his 
side that continued to scream in agony.  His vision was spotty at best and 
blurred beyond recognition of anything more than street and sky.  His breath 
was rapid and uneven.  His heart was pounding so fiercely that he could 
barely hear.  Despite all this, Mousse found the will to roar, "Never!  I'll 
die before admitting defeat to you!"

	He bent low at both the knees and waist as he flung his good arm back, 
calling forth a plain but sturdy Chinese blade of forged steel.  The flesh of 
his forearm tore as the weapon emerged with a spray of crimson, and despite 
the blood-slicked condition of the handle he held on to it desperately.  With 
a wordless howl he charged at the nearest blurred form and swung.

	Before the swing connected with anything, however, a swift kick to his 
unguarded throat launched him off of his feet and through the wall of a 
nearby business, the sword falling free of his grip to skitter across the 
pavement with a metallic ringing tone.

-- ~~~ --

	"Um, excuse me, but the doctors want me to ask a few questions about 
Mr...," the rather plain, brown-haired nurse asked in a soothing, gentle 
voice, now stopping to check something on the notepad she carried, "Mr. 
Hibiki, and just what happened to him."

	 Kasumi looked away from the uniformed woman, turning her head slightly 
to the side and down at her sister, the only actual witness to his injuries, 
who sat next to her in the row of rather uncomfortable and thinly cushioned 
chairs that lined the waiting room walls.  

	"It was some sort of accident," Akane began to explain, wringing her 
hands in her lap.  "Ryoga was just showing me one of his martial arts 
maneuvers."

	"Did you see where the shot came from?" the nurse asked, adopting a 
sort of almost-kneeling posture to bring herself down to Akane's eye level.

	Kasumi let her gaze wander about the room slightly, taking note of the 
few changes that had been made since she had last been in this room, waiting, 
worrying, and hoping for a life to be spared.  The formerly pale green walls 
had been repainted in a light and soothing cream tone, the once glaring 
florescent lighting gave way to indirect track lighting focused on a tile 
mosaic image of the hospital as seen from the air, and several small 
television sets (muted, of course) had been added about the waiting area.

	"No, nobody attacked him, it was a training accident," Akane explained, 
somewhat confused.

	The nurse put her hand over Akane's in a soothing manner.  "Please, 
it's very important that you tell us exactly what happened.  The doctors are 
quite confused by his injuries and really need to know just what exactly they 
are dealing with."

	"Ryoga... he was just showing me how to do one of his special 
techniques, one that projects chi as a method of attack.  He looked like he 
was struggling a bit to keep it under control so I could see it in slow 
motion.  I mean, at the time I didn't think anything of it.  Just that it was 
a part of the move, you know?"  Akane shook her head and sniffled slightly 
before continuing.  "When he tried to finish it though, the ball of chi... It 
just exploded, right there in his hand.  It just caught him right in the 
face..."

	The carpet and chairs, however, were just as Kasumi remembered them.  
The air was just the same as she remembered it also, slightly cooler than 
comfortable and with the scent of cleaning agents slightly noticeable.  The 
box of toys that Nabiki and Akane had played with while they waited still sat 
against the far wall, next to the magazine rack.  She had no more inclination 
to sample either now than she did last time.

	"Um, let's just say there was a small explosion and leave it at that, 
eh?" The nurse replied with a slight twitch, erasing something on her notes.  
"So I guess that would explain the burns and the concussion..."

	"Actually, miss, the young man had received the concussion a few days 
ago," Soun clarified.  "He was in the gymnasium of Furinkan High with my 
daughter."

	"Ohh... that is a very important fact to consider," the woman replied, 
taking quick notes.  "So the injury to his side was reopened by the blast?  
Except for being unable to find the bullet we had assumed it was a gunshot 
wound... either that or his appendix somehow managed to explode through his 
side on its own."

	Mr. Saotome shifted his bulk in his chair once again, trying in vain to 
find a comfortable spot before returning his attention to the silent 
television.  Kasumi knew that she should be thinking of Ryoga rather than 
digging up old memories, but still it bothered her to see this man so 
completely uninvolved in the events occurring around him.  Feeling somewhat 
guilty, she returned her full attention to her sister.

	Akane looked up sharply with wet eyes.  "But, he didn't have an injury 
to his side from the roof collapse, just a concussion."

	"Then how did Mr. Hibiki receive the wound to his side?  The soft 
tissue damage goes too deep to be explained away by anything short of a 
bullet wound or perhaps a car accident, but then the bruising would be far 
more widespread, and neither explains the second degree burns on his face, 
his hands, and trailing from his upper chest to his right side," the nurse 
persisted.

	"I... I don't know what happened to his side.  I went to check on him 
after the explosion, but," Akane sniffled again and rubbed her eyes, "where I 
placed my hand, it... blood, so much blood.  I couldn't, I just, I..."  Akane 
jerked her hands out from under the woman's and latched onto her father's 
shoulder as best she could with her injured shoulder still held immobile, 
crying openly now.

	"Perhaps it would be best if you came back later, Miss," Soun stated, 
moving to hold Akane in a loose embrace.

	"Yes, that would be appropriate," the nurse agreed, standing up.  "Our 
staff is one of the best in Tokyo, miss.  I'm fairly sure Mr. Hibiki will 
pull through."

	Akane only continued to sob.

	Genma looked at his friend's situation somewhat uncomfortably for a 
moment before rising as well.  "I, um, think I'll check up on the master, as 
long as we're here and all... make sure he hasn't caused too much trouble."  
With his usual heavy gait he plodded up to the main desk and began talking 
with the older woman seated there.  After a moment a young man in scrubs and 
a white overcoat came to the desk and led him down a hallway to the left.  
Curious, considering that the elevators were on the right side of the 
lobby...

	"I should have stopped him," Akane said in a low voice, still crying 
lightly.  "I just knew something wasn't right with him when I heard how 
strained his voice was getting, but I didn't say anything.  Why didn't I say 
something?"

	Kasumi added her own hand to Akane's back, a comforting gesture that 
still felt hollow to her somehow.  She wanted to offer condolences for this 
accident, to feel sorry about what had happened, but was simply unable to 
shake off the lingering disconnected sense of her surroundings and her last 
memories of mother.  

	She realized that her emotions had been odd of late, even perhaps 
erratic, ever since Ranma destroyed the dojo.  No, she corrected herself; she 
had been feeling a vague unease all that day, even before the wedding 
attempt.  From the moment Akane, Ranma, and Mr. Saotome walked in the door 
some silent warning had been set off, some unperceived shift in the proper 
harmony in the home.  Since their return Akane had been even more moody than 
normal.  Mr. Saotome had been cautious, occasionally glancing at Ranma as if 
he expected to see something different.  Ranma himself...

	Kasumi shuddered suddenly, feeling as the room was suddenly much colder 
if only for a second.  Even with him gone she couldn't think of him without 
getting an intangible sense of impending danger, an overwhelming gut reaction 
that demanded she get him away from those she loved as soon as possible and 
by any means necessary.  Was this latest accident still more fallout from 
that sense of danger?  Was this the end of it, or merely the beginning of 
something much larger?

	At least now that he wasn't immediately present she could reflect upon 
her behavior and admit that it was both illogical and even cruel.  Still, she 
felt oddly justified despite a strong inclination that she had done a great 
wrong to the young man.  Her hunches had always been right before, but never 
had they left her with any lingering doubts, nor had they so completely 
driven her without offering her time to consider...

	Her reverie was cut off as Mr. Saotome returned to the room, walking 
over to his seat with an oddly stoic set to his jaw.  With slow, even 
movements he sat down and turned to look over at her, at Akane who had 
stopped crying, and at her father who returned the look with puzzlement.  "I 
have news," he began, hesitantly, "although I'm not sure yet whether it is 
good or bad."
	
	"What is it, old friend?" her father asked.

	"The master has expired," Genma announced without fanfare, "Apparently 
from a heart attack early this morning.  They were trying to call me the 
whole time we've been here waiting."

	Akane began to cry again, stopped short, then apparently decided 
instead to just look down into her lap quietly.  

	Soun put a hand on his friend's shoulder but his expression didn't 
change otherwise.

	"God only knows what Nodoka's reaction will be," Genma sighed, closing 
his eyes for a moment.  "It was strange though; even considering his state 
his chi was incredibly faint... I think even the cold metal table had more 
lingering energy in it."

	Kasumi wanted to say something, but her voice caught in her throat.  
She was unable to truly feel any sorrow for the perverse but otherwise kind 
old man.  Reaching up to hold her small silver cross pendant in her hand 
tightly, she silently wondered which facet of the experience was actually 
worse; Happosai's death, or her family's collective inability to grieve for 
him.

--$$$$$--

	"What are you up to, Kuno baby?" Nabiki asked as she approached the 
restaurant, which, for reasons unknown, seemed to be under the protection of 
Tatewaki Kuno, moron at large.  He stood casually, leaning next to the doors 
of her destination with his arms crossed.

	"Zzzzz," he replied, followed by a snort.  One hand came up to scratch 
at his nose, but quickly returned to its resting place across his chest.

	Rationalizing that the idiot's sleeping arrangements weren't her 
problem, Nabiki simply shrugged and entered the restaurant without disturbing 
him.  She had more important matters to attend to, after all.

	"Welcome to Ucchan's!" the ninja waitress nearly squealed as he sprang 
into her awareness suddenly.  "Would you like a seat at the grill today, Miss 
Tendo?"

	If not for living with the Saotomes for the past two years, she might 
have actually jumped at the surprise.  Instead she replied simply, "I have 
some business to attend to today, but until my appointment arrives I suppose 
it couldn't hurt."  She followed the kimono-clad young man through the half-
filled restaurant to a cushioned stool at the countertop island.

	"What can I get for ya, sugar?" the owner asked, looking up from the 
grill with a smile.

	"A pork and pineapple, medium size, with tea," she replied, settling 
herself on the seat.  She then held out her hand and, with a smile, stated, 
"100 yen.  It's not anything big, but you will want to know it anyway."

	"I'll take it off your bill," Ukyo replied, "so out with it already."

	"Did you know that Kuno is sleeping outside next to your door?" Nabiki 
began genially, retracting her hand.  "His presence and reputation might be 
scaring away potential customers."

	The chef growled slightly, "Konatsu, go tell that jackass to either buy 
something or take a hike."

	"Yes, mistress Ukyo," the waitress replied from... somewhere in the 
room.

	"I hate it when he does that," the chef whispered, shaking her head.

	Nabiki smirked in reply.  "Heh, Ranma does that sort of 'intensive 
stealth training' nonsense at least once a week at the dojo.  It really 
annoys the heck out of Akane."

	The chef's eyes clearly wanted to reply, "So what doesn't?" but what 
came out of her mouth was instead the more somber question, "Have you had any 
luck finding Ranchan yet?"  She set an inexpensive but attractively decorated 
tea cup before the older girl.

	Nabiki had to look away to hide her expression at the question, and 
found that examining the cup made a convenient excuse.  "No," she almost 
sighed, "nothing concrete yet, anyway.  It's an almost certain bet that he 
survived the incident, considering the complete lack of fatalities, but I 
haven't been able to find even a hint of his current whereabouts."

	"Mr. Kuno is awake now and is away from the door, mistress," Konatsu 
announced, appearing just long enough to pick up several completed orders.

	"He had better not have decided to run away," Ukyo replied darkly, 
placing the ordered okonomiyaki before her customer.  "I really don't want to 
have to spend another ten years hunting him down...  I honestly don't think I 
could go through another stretch like that again."

	"Relax, Kuonji, he's sure to show up sooner or later," Nabiki reassured 
between bites, though whether she was reassuring the cook or herself was 
debatable.  "His overdeveloped sense of duty won't let him take the easy way 
out of here."

	"Yeah, you're right...  I just get an antsy feeling whenever I don't 
see him for any length of time.  Every time Ranchan leaves town I feel like 
he's ditching me by the roadside again."  Ukyo sniffed lightly, wiping her 
eyes quickly with her sleeve.

	Nabiki felt some measure of pity for the girl standing across from her, 
but would not allow herself the luxury of expressing her concern.  Instead 
she offered a little bit of hope before going back to eating.  "Actually, 
I've got a meeting with someone soon who claims they have some information on 
Ranma.  I'd rather not see the little twerp at the moment, honestly, but he 
wouldn't agree to talk about it with any of my proctors."

	Ukyo slid a plain white envelope across the counter to her customer as 
she finished her meal.  "My share of the dojo fund," she explained, "and 
lunch is on the house... provided you share anything you find out today."

	The Tendo girl faltered for a moment, her conscience warring with her 
financial instincts.  Noticing the arrival of her appointment, however, gave 
her a compromise.  With a secretive smile she replied, "It's a deal... but 
put my meal on Hikaru's tab instead, okay?  The little bastard owes me big 
and I aim to drag out his dept for as long as possible this time."

	"Hmm, Ranchan mentioned your little mishap the last time we talked," 
the chef replied with a wink.  "Consider it done."

	"Ghuud tu saa yuu, Nhabake," Gosunkugi said with a slight bow.  "Whur 
shull wu sat?"

	Nabiki glared at the boy with her arms crossed.

	"Whudd?" he asked, clueless.

	"Take that ridiculous thing off right this instant or I'm leaving," She 
stated firmly.

	"Bhud I naad et tull tha patiun whurs aff," he complained.

	Nabiki remained quiet as she rose from her seat.  She was fully 
prepared to walk out, but Ukyo choose to end the nonsense by pulling the 
bright pink plastic clothespin off of the scrawny boy's nose, not bothering 
to unclasp it first.

	"Owww, damn it!" he screeched, grasping his face.  "Why can't people 
just leave it alone?"

	"Oh, quit whining and sit down already," Nabiki drawled, gesturing to 
the vacant seat next to her.

	"Here?  Wouldn't you prefer a more private booth?" Hikaru asked, still 
rubbing his nose as he glared at Ukyo.

	"I already agreed to share whatever it is you have to say with Ukyo," 
she explained, gesturing to the grinning chef.  "I could just tell her later, 
but if you insist on wasting my time like that there will be a deduction to 
your fee."

	"Fine, whatever," he replied, taking a seat at the grill.  "Can I get 
two shrimp specials and a coke?"

	"Coming right up!" Ukyo replied and promptly poured two circles of 
batter on the grill before her.

	"So what is it you have to tell me?" Nabiki asked, looking at her 
watch.

	"Before I tell you anything, you have to agree to stop messing with my 
life," he replied with a guarded expression.  "My parents weren't happy at 
all with that faked letter from the school you sent home... how could you 
tell them I was failing in writing composition?  It's my best subject!"

	"Oh, and I should just forget about the hell you put me through with 
that dragon rose potion of yours?" the Tendo girl demanded.

	"Yeah, you should!" he spouted back.  "It was an accident! Besides, 
Ranma already got me back for that mess."

	"Exactly my point," Nabiki explained, "that was just Ranma's doing.    
Regardless of what he did or didn't do, I haven't finished paying you back 
just yet."

	"If you want to know what happened to Ranma after the school got 
trashed, you have," he replied before digging into his meal with enthusiasm.

	"So that's the deal?  I stop all my little pranks currently in progress 
and you tell me what you want to know?"  She summarized.  "And how do I know 
that what you have to tell is worth me just letting you off the hook?"

	"What choice do you have?" the dark-eyed boy sneered.

	Nabiki paused as if considering the matter, but all that passed through 
her mind was a derisive comment about him not being specific enough in his 
deals and just what she would replace her current activities with.  "Well, 
for one I could have Ukyo here beat it out of you," she replied offhandedly.  
The young chef in question didn't seem to be exactly jumping at the prospect, 
though.  "...But I guess it would be easier to just agree."

	"Uh, glad to hear it," he gulped, looking pointedly away from Ukyo.

	"So spill it already!  Where's my Ranchan?" Ukyo demanded.

	"Look, let me start at the beginning, okay?" he nearly begged.  When 
both girls said nothing, he continued.  "I'd been skipping school for the 
last few days, trying to earn some quick cash by doing odd jobs for the guys 
down at the open market.  The antidote for that potion is expensive, you 
know."

	"Believe me, I'm aware of that," Nabiki replied dryly.

	Hikaru continued, "Well anyway, I was running an errand for Jinsei's 
fish stand when I saw it; a pillar of multicolored light centered right over 
Furinkan that went so high I couldn't tell if it was going up or being sent 
down from space.  It was on my way, so I figured I had to drop by and see 
what the hell was going on."

	"By the time I reached the school, though, the light show was over.  It 
was still pretty creepy, though, with the gym collapsing in on itself.  Then 
things got really quiet, and the air seemed to get colder all of a sudden, 
like a misplaced winter breeze.  I was too stunned to do anything for a 
while, at least until I saw him."

	"Ranchan?"  Ukyo asked, hopefully.  "He wasn't hurt or anything?"

	"Nope," the thin boy said, shaking his head.  "Ranma was a bit dusty 
from the debris but otherwise looked like he hadn't been touched. He came 
climbing up out of the wreckage and immediately hurried over to me, spouting 
orders for me to call for the ambulances and stuff."

	"Why didn't he do it himself, or help anyone else out of the crater?" 
Nabiki asked, leaning forward with interest.

	"I asked just that very question, actually," Hikaru replied.  "He 
actually looked me right in the eye and told me he had more important stuff 
to do."

	"He said what?" Ukyo whispered, looking down at her hands.  "Ranchan 
wouldn't say that.  He wouldn't leave any of us like that, not for anything."

	"Well apparently he would, because he did," Gosunkugi stated bluntly.  
"Then he said he wouldn't be back until he was ready to get rid of all his 
problems.  I tried to ask him what he meant by that, but he snapped at me and 
then ran off, mumbling something I couldn't quite catch."

	Nabiki's blood went cold, recalling a rather painful conversation held 
in the rain not too long ago.  "You're positive that's what he said?  That 
exact phrasing?"

	Hikaru defended his information, stating, "I may not remember exactly 
what he said, but that was the gist of it."

	"What sort of expression did he have when he said it?" Nabiki pressed.

	Gosunkugi thought for a moment, his eyes shifting up and to the left.  
"Uh, kinda sad I guess, and a little angry.  Why?"

	Nabiki's only reply was to close her eyes and sigh, "Ranma, you idiot."

	"So where is he now?" Ukyo asked, breaking the lull.

	The boy shrugged and replied, "No idea."

	"What do you mean 'no idea'?  Didn't you see him leave?" Nabiki 
snapped.  "Where did he head off to, in what direction?"

	"Last I saw him, he was running up the middle of the street towards the 
north end of town," He answered with a shrug.  "I was a little too busy 
looking for a phone to keep track of him, you know."

	"North... great, that sure narrows it down," Nabiki replied 
sarcastically.  She rose from her seat and turned towards the door.  "If 
you'll excuse me, I have quite a bit of work ahead of me."

	"So we're square now, right?  No more mail-order tentacle rape movies 
delivered postage due in my name for my mom to find?" Hikaru asked, then 
looked around nervously at the other nearby customers.

	Before she could answer, Nabiki's awareness was suddenly jarred by the 
sound of a wooden section of the front wall being destroyed.  She turned in 
time to see Mousse finish crashing to a halt, but not until after destroying 
a booth and two tables with his entrance.  The fallen Amazon made no move to 
rise, but did grope at his throat with his left hand, leaving bloody trails 
across his face and robes momentarily before collapsing completely.

	Ukyo's reaction to the damage was to seize her combat spatula, vault 
over the grill, and loudly scream "Jackass!" towards whoever was behind the 
jagged hole.

	Hikaru took the opportunity to casually flee while he was still ahead, 
unknowingly avoiding Nabiki's bill as well as his own.

	"My apologies," Kuno replied somberly as he peeked his head in the hole 
cautiously, surveying the interior.  "I shall of course see to it that you 
are duly compensated for the damages."

	"Wait... you beat Mousse, Kuno?  Who else is out there with you?" 
Nabiki questioned, disbelieving.  When he turned to look directly at her, 
however, she paused to reconsider the injuries clearly visible on his face: a 
rapidly swelling eye, a split lip, and a trail of blood oozing slowly from 
his right nostril.

	Tatewaki snorted.  "I choose to ignore that comment for now, Tendo 
Nabiki."  Turning to Ukyo, he asked, "May I leave this injured boy to your 
care?  His shoulder and elbow shall require relocation, and it appears as if 
he may require stitches on his other arm though I am not aware of any cause 
for such an injury."

	"Don't worry about him... I know how to handle stuff like this," Ukyo 
explained, "and I'll have a repair estimate for you tomorrow, Kuno."

	He nodded.  "I shall expect it shortly then.  Oh, and do restrain 
yourself from using any cold water in cleaning his wounds; there could be... 
complications... from such a treatment."

	"Why would you say that, Kuno baby?" Nabiki inquired, attempting to 
guide a definitive statement out of him rather than simply inferring his 
meaning.

	Kuno narrowed his eyes and glanced between the two girls.  With a burst 
of speed he reached into his belt, retrieved a translucent plastic object, 
and activated it in the girl's directions one after the other.  All he said 
by way of explanation was, "Merely testing a hypothesis."

	"What the hell was that for?" Ukyo demanded.

	Nabiki wiped the slightly cool water out of her eyes and stared blankly 
at the young kendoist.  She stood silent for a brief moment, pondering the 
potential shift such a new development to the standard Nerima social order 
would have on her business, but perhaps more curious as to just how he 
managed to finally work out the existence of the curses in the convoluted 
tangles of his mind.  "Let me walk you home, Tatewaki; I think we have much 
to discuss."

	"If you insist," Kuno replied evenly as he tucked the water pistol back 
into a hidden pocket in his shirt.

	The middle Tendo massaged her forehead for a moment in frustration, 
shared a curious glance with Ukyo, and followed the young man out the door.

	As she crossed the threshold, however, something deep in her mind 
screamed at her to stop.  The Kuno situation was a pressing concern, 
certainly, but another issue was more important; finding Ranma before he does 
something drastic.

	"Do you not wish to accompany me?" Kuno demanded, looking tiredly over 
his shoulder.  

	"No, on second thought I'll talk with you another time, Kuno," she 
replied, choosing to turn right instead of left, as Tatewaki had, when she 
stepped out onto the sidewalk.  At a quick pace she traveled home, feeling 
far from happy but at the same time satisfied that she was making the correct 
choice.

--%%%%%--

	He stood at the water's edge, watching the slow ripples glide across 
the deep blue glass-like surface to gently brush against the rocky beach at 
his feet.  Tracing back across their reversing paths he noticed that they 
were spreading against the slight wind, moving outward from a single location 
at the far edge of the lake where large bubbles would rise from time to time.

	"Tell me again why we're here, Saotome?" Ryu asked from further up the 
beach, annoyance mixed equally with curiosity.  "I've got training to do yet 
today, you know."

	"I'm not stopping you," Ranma replied coldly.  "In fact, I recommend 
you leave now, for your own safety."

	"My own...  What, you think I can't look after myself just because you 
beat me once?"  Ryu demanded.

	Ranma turned his head to catch sight of him from the corner of his eye.  
"No, but I'm about to challenge something very powerful and I don't want to 
have to worry about not killing you while I'm dealing with it.  I don't want 
or need your help, either, so just stay out of the way."

	Ryu looked a bit angry, but he hesitated to reply.  "Fine, fight your 
so-called eight-headed dragon on your own...  And don't come back to my 
campsite unless you bring your own food this time."  He turned to walk away, 
casually flipping Ranma the bird over his shoulder as he made his way back up 
the trail, disappearing into the undergrowth.

	"Finally... geez, I thought he'd never leave," Ranma complained as he 
stepped towards the waterline.  He reached down with one hand, cupping some 
of the lake water and splashing himself.

	She suppressed the urge to cry out as an unfamiliar sensation of sharp 
pain crackling like lighting through her body, choosing to bite her lip 
instead.  Cursing her luck, she added a mental note to talk to Cologne when 
she got back about this painful new development to her condition.

	"Come on you stupid overgrown snake...  There's a young, pretty, and 
virginal girl waiting here just for you, tee hee!" she called out in what she 
honestly thought was a sexy tone.

	The water surface rippled slightly, though she was pretty sure it was 
only the wind.

	Growling slightly, Ranma loosened the top of the black silken garb to 
reveal a hefty bit of cleavage and stepped into the lake, up to her knees in 
the cold, dark water.  With a very forced smile she began to splash herself 
with the water playfully.  Ignoring the intense cold as best she could, Ranma 
called out, "Oh Mr. Orochi... Won't you help me wash my back?  Pwetty 
Pweese?"

	Her efforts were met, after a short wait, by the slow surfacing of one 
of its smaller heads, stopping just high enough so that its two closed eyes 
were completely above the waterline.  At a languishing pace the eyes opened 
to stare at the scene before it with a mixture of confusion and fatigue 
through the tangled mass of its sporadically-furred snout.

	"Um... Hi!  Can the rest of your friends come out and play too?" she 
cooed, smiling widely as she struck a suggestive pose.

	The eyes looked her up and down quickly and then sniffed the air.  
Abruptly after the sniff its eyes stopped wandering, instead narrowing and 
focusing only on Ranma's face for a moment with an accusatory glare before 
sinking back into the lake.

	She stood frozen for a moment with her eyes closed, her hands slowly 
tightening into fists.  "Alright you bastard," she growled as a red glow 
began to form around her, "I tried to do this the easy way first, but it 
looks like I'll have to beat it out of you."  

	The red glow quickly concentrated into a pulsating orb around her 
balled fist.  When it seemed to be of an appropriate size, Ranma leapt 
backwards to land on the beach and thrust her hand forward.  The basketball-
sized globe rocketed forward at this command and quickly disappeared beneath 
the surface of the lake at the point the single head had risen, leaving only 
a slight reddish glow from beneath the water.   After a short pause Ranma 
unclenched her outstretched hand, accompanied instantly by a massive 
explosive swelling of the lake's surface and a deep resonating tone.

	As the deposed water fell back in a misty torrent to the lake's surface 
the serpent's head appeared again, this time not stopping at the waterline 
and accompanied by two others.  The heads reared back and released a 
deafening roar seemingly one part avalanche and two parts jet airliner.

	Ranma removed her little fingers from her ears with a slight pop and 
resumed a fighting stance, awaiting her opponent's first move.  She didn't 
have to wait long as all at once the three visible heads darted forward and 
breathed gouts of flame in her direction.  Fully prepared for this tactic, 
Ranma almost casually sprang over the plumes of incoming heat, flipping twice 
in a tight ball and uncurling at the last moment to deliver a vicious heel 
kick to the middle head's brow ridge.

	The head sagged with the blow, but then shook off the stunning effect 
of the strike leaving Ranma momentarily without a perch.  The two previous 
heads circled in to snap at the falling girl and two more emerged from the 
lake directly beneath her.  The four active heads surged forward to devour 
the falling girl, but were caught quite unprepared for her to change her 
trajectory with a pair of expanding orange blasts focused on the lower two 
toothy pits below her.

	Ranma landed lightly on the beach once more, but had to roll aside as 
heads six and seven burst through the sand beneath her feet.  Heads two and 
three, the only others not yet affected by an attack, circled in on Ranma's 
new position from the lake as the two newest entrants coiled behind her, 
ready to respond to her attempts to dodge.  Heads one, four and five reared 
up as if to roar again, but no sound came forth.

	"Adapting already I see," Ranma taunted as the serpent's combined 
assault began to unfold, starting with an open-mouthed charge from two of the 
lake heads at different heights and angles.   Rather than dodging away this 
time, the redhead blasted several narrow beams of chi from her outstretched 
hands directly at the barren earth in the paths of the two attackers and 
dashed forward between them under the cover of falling debris.  The two 
reserve attackers charged in, but unable to clearly see could not avoid the 
martial artist's follow up attack, consisting of a large and very dense ball 
of greenish blue energy.  

	"You'd better keep working on that combo, though," Ranma smirked, 
unfortunately leaving herself wide open for the sudden powerful blast that 
struck her in the back with sufficient force to send her tumbling end-over-
end nearly twelve meters, completely knocking all the air from her lungs.

	Doing her best to ignore the intense burning sensation in her back, the 
girl looked back with wide eyes toward the lake.  The most central of the 
visible heads and the first to appear was either glaring or smirking at her 
with slight wisps of golden energy trailing like smoke from the corners of 
its mouth.  Heads four and five reared back with wide open toothy maws, both 
pointed directly at her and both sporting a pulsing form of condensed golden 
light hovering between their jaws.

	Desperately she scrambled away from her landing spot as twin lances of 
golden death blazed forth, blowing large craters behind her and kicking up 
copious amounts of rock and coarse sand into the air.  In the confusion she 
once again found her feet and breath, but immediately was forced to roll 
aside as one of the serpents previously emerging from the sand attempted to 
tear her head off.  The other land-based foe rumbled by soon after, managing 
to strike her a glancing but powerful blow with the side of its head as it 
thundered past her.  She rolled with the impact as best she could, then ran 
at full speed away from the cloud of settling debris, muttering angrily, 
"moss-crusted bastard must have been playing dumb last time, not taking me 
seriously."

	Upon exiting the cloud of debris she was immediately forced to duck and 
roll as two more chi attacks from the direction of the lake streaked toward 
her position.  The twin blasts passed harmlessly overhead, but the sudden odd 
sensation of loose strands falling against her cheeks and the unmistakable 
scent of burnt hair told Ranma just how close they must have been to 
scorching her face instead.

	She glanced up during this brief moment of rest to take stock of the 
current situation.  Of the five heads protruding from the waters only the 
central one, the one she had kicked in the head, seemed to be gathering 
energy for another blast of that intense burning chi; an action that was 
mirrored by the two land-bound heads on each of her flanks.  Oddly enough the 
energy seemed to be coming not from the dragon itself but from thin air 
around its open mouth... not good, considering that might mean that a 
constant stream of blasts would not tire it out any time soon.  The two heads 
next closest to the center, still sporting slight burn marks from her earlier 
assault, were moving cautiously toward her position, sticking close to the 
water line.  The remaining two of the seven heads so far revealed were 
pulling away from her position directly above the two advancing heads, 
perhaps in preparation for yet another combination attack.
	
	"What now?" her mind whirled, trying to find a solution to the problem 
set before her.  "Damn dragon has me outnumbered, outmaneuvered and probably 
outgunned, too.  I'm way faster then any of 'em, but I can't do nothin' with 
that because they keep each other covered.  But I bet they can't cover an 
attack that they don't know is coming..."  With a wry and confident sneer 
Ranma relaxed her posture, allowing her battle aura to fade along with all 
traces of her existence.  Keeping her footsteps too light to leave prints in 
the sand, she dashed forwards to meet the charge of two unsuspecting heads.

	Her momentary invisibility was rendered useless, however, when the two 
heads advancing near the waterline plowed into the beach rather than at her 
previous position.  The impact resulted in a wave of solid debris across a 
wide swath of the beech that clearly parted on contact with her.  Immediately 
two crisscrossing bursts from the flanking heads fired in her direction, 
forced her to tumble backwards.  

	The two sand throwers now cut off her retreat with jets of flame to 
either side and behind her, leaving her with nowhere to dodge when the 
central-most head let loose yet another of the golden light attacks.  She 
screamed, throwing forward the strongest blast of yellow-orange chi she could 
muster to counter the attack but the dragon's breath passed through the 
pressure wave unabated.  At the last possible second she pulled her arms 
tightly over her face and upper chest, curling her head down behind the block 
and leaning forward on bent knees as the burning wave crashed into her.

	"Why don't you fight back, Ranma?  Don't you want to win?"

	"Of course I do, damnit!" She mentally snapped as the blast blew her 
completely off her feet.

	"Your friends will all die if we fail, Ranma; some slowly and others 
quite soon."

	"I'm doing all I can!" she cried.  Her sleeves caught fire as the blast 
carried her backwards through the twin plumes of naked flame.

	"No Ranma, you're not.  You're still holding back, afraid to face this 
beast with your full strength.  Call out to the darkness and it will set us 
free."

	"No!" she shouted, clenching her eyes shut against the pain as the 
golden light began to burn her exposed skin.  "Calling on that technique is 
what got me into this mess in the first place.  If I use it now I'll lose 
control again and someone is going to die.  I won't be responsible for any 
more deaths!"

	"What about all the people who will die back home simply because you 
wouldn't stand up for them?  Your soul will be bathed in blood today 
regardless of your choice, fool!"

	"But it won't be by my will!" she replied defiantly as her body crashed 
into a rocky outcropping.

	"If you know the consequences of hesitation but do not act you have 
still willfully chosen to follow that path.  Not fighting back is as good as 
killing your friends and loved ones with your own bare hands, Ranma!"

	"No, there has to be another way.  I just need more time to think," she 
pleaded, collapsing in a smoldering heap against the crumbling rock.  "I just 
need more time..."

	"The time is now, Ranma!  Kill or be killed; take life to preserve it!"

	She opened her eyes slightly and looked ahead, but only saw death 
looking back.  The central head was charging forward with its hungry jaws 
spread wide in anticipation of a meal well earned, flanked on either side by 
two more bursts of golden light that cut off her escape routes.  The other 
four heads were closing in from above on both sides, their eager eyes 
betraying the desire to snap up any spare crumbs her corpse left behind.

	"Damn you," Ranma thought bitterly, knowing that the voice was right.  
Her aura flared with deep and angry red, shadowed at the edges.  The sudden 
movement of air put out the slight flames trailing up her arms.

	"Damn you," Ranma scolded herself under her breath for the weakness and 
overconfidence that made this sacrifice necessary.  The shadows deepened to 
solid pitch as they spread across her aura, twisting and growing like thorny 
vines as she stood.  A slight muscle spasm racked her body, but he ignored 
the minor sensation.

	"Damn you," Ranma sneered at the oncoming serpent, staring it down with 
cold, dead eyes and a cruel smile.  The darkness flowed freely now, around, 
inside, and through him, refreshing his depleted reserves of will and 
strength.  The slight tremor and brief sensation of sleeping nerves faded 
into a profound feeling of power and health not unlike what he often felt 
right after a good fight.

	With the utmost confidence Ranma raised one hand casually before him in 
a loose fist, eagerly anticipating the first spray of hot blood across his 
raw skin.

--!!!!!--

	Ryu trudged through the undergrowth with heavy, deliberate steps, each 
a little harder and angrier than the one before.  His mind was wracked with 
conflicting sides of a debate, one certain that Saotome Ranma was a complete 
jerk and the other just as certain that he was right to think he would just 
be a burden.  Both sides were convinced that anger was the proper response to 
the problem, but had not, as of yet, determined whether it should be best 
applied within or without.  He obeyed, though he continued to bitterly 
grumble as he made his way back to camp.

	The debate was put on momentary suspension, however, when a thunderous 
roar unlike anything Ryu had ever before perceived literally shook the forest 
around him.  Any doubts he had about the validity of Ranma's claim of facing 
off with a 'dragon' were silenced by the tremendous utterance, leaving him 
only with the desire to see just what was really going on with his own eyes.

	He had only left the beach a few moments ago, so it took him only a few 
moments to return to a truly impressive scene.  He watched with wonder, 
respect, and yes, even a touch of envy, as Ranma squared off with seven 
bearded, serpentine heads, each larger than a full-sized car.  Obviously the 
younger fighter had improved in the time since they had last fought, for she 
moved with a grace and ease amidst the dangerous foes without losing her 
cocky smirk.  Or at least she had, until one of the heads opened its throat 
to roar but loosed a beam of golden light rather than sound.

	The blast was a major turning point, suddenly putting Saotome off her 
rhythm and forcing her on the defensive.  He watched, paralyzed at the sight, 
as Ranma frantically dodged and weaved through the alternating golden blasts, 
gouts of flame, and bull rushes that the serpents brought to bear in rapid 
succession and synchronization, almost as if they were a single entity rather 
than individuals.  

	For a brief moment, Ryu noted darkly that Ranma seemed to fade out of 
existence as she had in their previous fight, a maneuver which should have 
been permanently sealed away from use as per their wager.  A suspicion of the 
real reasons Ranma had tried to get him to leave the fight began to fester in 
the back of his mind like a jagged shard of glass, but still he did not 
interfere.

	Under the continued assault of the serpents Ranma soon fell prey to a 
trapping pattern, pinned down by repeated blasts and a double gout of flame 
until another of the deadly rays caught her full force in the chest, her 
small frame thrown backwards into the cliff-face beneath his vantage point 
with an impact that he could almost feel through the stone.  Ranma looked 
very small and weak in that instant, sprawled limply in the rocky sand as two 
more blasts flanked her position and the other heads charged in for the kill.  

	For a moment the thought flashed across Ryu's mind that he could help, 
perhaps draw the beasts' ire long enough for Ranma to escape.  These thoughts 
were stilled when the something in the wind shifted imperceptibly, sending a 
chill down his spine.  Below him Ranma began to stand, shakily at first but 
soon with a defiant air as the girl's... no, it was definitely a man's body 
now, was enveloped by a mysterious wave of energy the color of polished coal.  

	"So this is the technique he was so paranoid about last night," Ryu 
commented to no one in particular.  The foreign and bizarre sight before him 
seemed to inspire a perhaps quite rational sense of terror and simultaneously 
fill him with the extremely peculiar sensation of slow warmth, not unlike 
coming home out of a storm.

	Torn between incongruous attraction and repulsion for this strange 
technique, Ryu simply watched as one of the heads from the lake charged at 
Ranma, its mouth held wide open, ready to swallow the boy whole.  Ranma stood 
defiantly with a single raised arm as if in a warding gesture as the beast 
engulfed him, only to witness the serpent fall to the ground around the 
black-clad young man in thick, meaty strips.  Thick streamers of the 
mutilated beast's blood broke on Ranma's form like a wave crashing helplessly 
against the unforgiving coast.

	The other four nearby heads bellowed with mindless rage and charged as 
the black-shrouded warrior pulled his forward-thrust limb back.  The 
blackness collapsed in on itself, contracting like a viper poised to strike, 
then expanded outwards to meet the charging foes as Ranma threw his arms out 
wide, his movements trailing multiple shadowy echoes.  For a brief moment the 
air around Ranma seemed to bend and distort like a dessert horizon, but then 
all that could be seen was blood and pulpy flesh.

	"What the hell was that?!" Kumon Ryu demanded, hiding in the shrubbery 
no longer.  As if in answer, Ranma retracted the now widely-spaced fingers on 
the end of his outstretched arm and glanced upwards directly at him, meeting 
his questioning glance with sharp eyes and a wide, gleaming smile in stark 
contrast to his blood-splattered face.  Somehow it seemed the honest smile of 
a child who just mastered a new trick, now seeking attention and approval 
from all witnesses.

	In that look Kumon saw the ashes of his life, the years of his 
childhood wasted trying to master the very art that killed his father.  The 
art he had recently been sworn to abandon now revealed not only to be 
unsealed but practiced unashamedly at a level that would have required long 
hours of practice to achieve.  The art that turned out to be nothing but a 
lie his father had bought, that he had bought into as well, and was only 
beginning now to free himself of the debt.  But now the joke went one step 
further, one more bitter taste of bile; the techniques weren't the joke he 
had been told they were, that he had all but renounced his father's memory 
over.  If anything, using the combined schools was apparently a force more 
powerful and ruthless in nature than he had imagined possible.

	Ranma's gaze returned to the lake as yet another serpentine head 
appeared from the water, this one easily four times as large as the others.  
The two remaining smaller heads moved to flank the larger one and fired more 
beams in Ranma's direction.  They met no resistance save the cliff-face as 
Ranma disappeared from view completely, only to reappear directly before the 
larger head wile performing an inverted heel kick.  As the darkness of his 
aura came into contact with the water's surface a large, solid blade of 
vacuum force formed, sucking up the water in its wake.  The water-scythe grew 
in size until the attack met a solid resistance in the form of a wide golden 
sheen less than a half-meter from the beast's exposed throat, then 
dissipated.

	The mayhem that proceeded from this point for several minutes is 
difficult to describe.  The three heads released a near constant barrage of 
golden beams from both the smaller heads' mouths and the large one's eyes, 
intermixed with huge gouts of blue flame from the main head that covered a 
third of the lake at a time.  Ranma seemed to fade in and out of view at 
different locations, leaping wildly across the lake as though it were a 
reliable foothold but never seeming to actually touch the water as he dodged 
between the serpents' attacks.

	This protracted fight began to draw to a close as one of the smaller 
heads suddenly burst into a shredded mass of blood-dripping gore, followed 
very shortly thereafter by a similar treatment of the other.  The large head, 
the last remaining, roared with pain and malice in a tone even more deafening 
then the last at this predicament. Ranma faded into view hovering casually 
above the lake, positioned directly before the great serpent with a 
contemptuous crossed-arm posture, his aura swirling dangerously about him in 
a larger radius than it had previously.  The beast responded to the taunt 
with a sudden gout of flame which Ranma apparently did not choose to dodge.

	When the flames abated Ranma remained floating in the same position, 
the only visible change being that his aura of darkness seemed even larger 
and darker than before, nearly six meters across.  With a relaxed air he drew 
his arms back, then snapped them forward to release two vacuum blades in 
curving arcs toward the serpent.  The formerly-pigtailed boy then performed a 
backwards flip, creating yet more blades with his feet on an intercepting 
path with the others.  The blades met in pairs as the golden sheen again 
appeared before the beast, at first seeming to cancel each other out but then 
exploding outwards in tightly rotating waves of destruction.  The effect 
seemed self-sustaining, and continued to tear at the shimmering barrier at 
opposing sides and visibly weakening the effect in the area between the 
attacks.  

	The darkness of Ranma's aura coalesced during this time behind him in 
two roughly wing-shaped masses, though still conforming to a spherical 
boundary.  Ranma threw his arms forward violently, and at this command the 
wings separated into multiple thin darts, each impacting the weakened area in 
quick succession, finally managing to pierce the shell and continue through 
to lance into the surprised monster's body.  Neither combatant moved as the 
glittering barrier collapsed nor as the rotating blades of distorted air 
faded away into nothingness, allowing the blood-tinted water to fill in the 
furrows in the lakes' surface.  The serpent stared balefully at its conqueror 
for a moment, but when it finally blinked Ranma threw his arms wide again 
with fingers spread and the black impaling masses followed suit, ripping out 
of the dragon's flesh at several different angles.  The severed lumps 
splashed heavily, one at a time but at an increasing pace, into the red-
tinged water below.

	As the much-lessened remains of his dark aura returned to its natural 
place, the blood-soaked victor floated down to the still-floating masses.  He 
selected as a trophy of the kill a large section of the snake's former scalp, 
apparently coated with some sort of fungal growth that was notably absent on 
the smaller beasts.  Ranma floated back sluggishly to the beach, dragging the 
scalp behind him with one hand, tightly gripping it by several grey-white 
hairs as he occasionally dipped into the lake surface.  Upon reaching the 
shore Ranma staggered several steps up the beach, turned to look back up at 
Ryu with a threatening smile.  He then collapsed sideways in a heap lying 
halfway in the bloodied waters, still tightly gripping his gruesome trophy as 
the blackness surrounding him faded away.

	  Almost the second Ranma hit the sand a slightly younger man of a 
slender but athletic build bearing more than a passing resemblance to Saotome 
emerged from the foliage.  The newcomer was wearing a white bandana much like 
the one Ryu had recently lost, a loose black coat over sturdy cotton 
clothing, and wielding a janitorial-style wooden broom.  The stranger knelt 
down to check the black-haired warrior's vital signs and, apparently unhappy 
with what he found, spat on the unconscious body.  He then stood stiffly, 
glaring at the inert form and holding his broom tightly as if undecided 
whether or not to strike.

	Ryu had seen enough of this.  Leaping down from the rocky cliff to land 
awkwardly in the uneven and pliant sand below, resulting in planting a hand 
in the still warm blood pool.  Shaking the filth from his hand as he regained 
his footing, Kumon shouted, "Back off, pal.  If he isn't dead then he's got 
to answer to me first."

	"You!" shouted the broom-wielding man in reply, "You should leave here 
right away!"

	Somehow Ryu found himself unimpressed.  "Want to try making me?" he 
demanded, flexing his pectorals.  His skills were a bit rusty, but if Ranma 
wasn't standing by their pact then he didn't have to anymore either.

	"It wasn't meant as a threat, just a warning," the man explained as his 
posture relaxed. "I've left traps all around this area to keep the animals 
contained."

	Ryu backed down slightly.  "Fine, whatever...  Look, we can make small 
talk later, but right now we need to drag the sleeping psychopath here out of 
the lake before he drowns on us."

	"He?" the young man puzzled for a moment, but quickly replied, "Agreed, 
she has much to answer for.  I am called Kushinada Shinosuke."
	
	"Kumon Ryu," he replied offhandedly as he approached.  Up close it 
became obvious that Ranma was indeed female again, but the stubbornly raven-
black and unevenly cut locks of hair seemed completely out of place on this 
smaller body, somehow.

--YYYYY--

	"Ugh... where the hell am I?" Mousse groaned, "and where is my robe?"

	Ukyo grudgingly pulled her head off of the countertop where it had been 
resting so very comfortably (just for a moment, she told herself) to look 
over to the booth on which the young man had been placed.  "H'llo there, 
sleepyhead," she sighed in what she hoped was still un-slurred speech.  "Had 
to take it off ya to patch you up."

	"What?" he asked, rolling over on his side to look at his host and 
quickly discovering that putting weight on his right shoulder was a bad idea 
at present.  He unleashed a short burst of what she assumed were Chinese 
curses under his breath as he rolled onto his back again and sat up clad only 
in his thin black undershirt and ripped silk pants.

	"Yeah, that arm'll be sore for a few days, sugar.  In the meantime why 
don'tcha join me?  It's good for the pain, if nothin' else," she asked in a 
somewhat somber tone as she handed over his thick-framed glasses.  In 
explanation she raised her small dish of lukewarm sake in salute and drained 
it in a gulp, trying to enjoy the slight burning sensation it left as it 
passed down her dry throat.

	Mousse rose stiffly from the makeshift cot and shuffled over to a 
barstool at the counter next to her.  She placed the small ceramic dish in 
her hand in front of then retrieved two more from a stack next to the small 
stainless-steel heater and filled each of them with a steaming, clear liquid.  
"Three? Is someone else here as well?" the injured young man asked.

	"Nope; just us, Mousse, but you've got some catchin' up to do," she 
replied, propping her head up with one arm against the countertop and looking 
at him with a tired gaze.

	"I will humbly share this alcohol with you, Ukyo," he replied 
seriously, pausing to down the first dish with his bandaged but functional 
left arm, "But only if you tell me why you're drinking."

	"'Cause my fiancé is an uncarin' bastard, tha's why," she spat 
bitterly.

	"Granted," the amazon replied, finishing the third drink, "but what 
else is new?"

	Ukyo glared at him, snatching the dish out of his hand to refill it.  
"I get to complain 'bout Ranchan, but you don't... not in my house, an'way."

	"By all means then, continue for the both of us," he answered.  "I'm 
sure tired of doing it, for all the good it does."

	"Hmmph," she grunted in response.  "I found out this afternoon that not 
only has that jackass been worryin' me silly for the pas few days by runnin' 
off again, but he act'lly knew I was hurt and didn't do a damned thing to 
help.  Top of that, he swore not to come back 'till he's gotten rid of all 
his pro'lums... and way I heard it, I think he 'cluded me in that list."

	"Ah, I suppose that is a good reason for drinking then," he sighed, 
"good enough for the both of us."  He then raised his dish in salute and 
intoned sadly, "To love unjustly lost."

	"I 'spected you to be happy, Mousse," she noted dejectedly.  "One less 
obstacle for you and Shampoo."

	"If only," he sighed.  "That's why I was fighting that Kuno idiot 
today; he somehow managed to get involved and the old mummy recognized him as 
a legitimate contender for Shampoo's hand now."

	"Cheer up, Mousse.  Kuno's so caught up on Akane and Ranchan that he 
won't be much of a threat," she offered halfheartedly.

	"That's just it, he says he's given up on both of them for my Shampoo," 
he almost cried, "and ever since that mess with Saffron she hasn't said one 
kind thing to me, not even the little friendly chatter we used to have at the 
café."

	"Maybe you aren' being fair to yourself, Mousse, staying loyal to her 
for so long," Ukyo stated bluntly.  "If she doesn' 'preciate you by now then 
maybe she isn' worth the wait.  You deserve better."

	"So then you don't think Ranma is worth a damn either?" Mousse snapped, 
looking away sharply.

	"Hey, I told ya not to say stuff about my Ranchan!" she yelled.

	Mousse turned back to face her glare with one of his own.  "So my love 
life is open game for dissection but I can't even point out that you're being 
a hypocrite?"

	"How'm I being a hyp'crite!" she demanded.

	"You said that if my loyalty hasn't paid off by now then Shampoo isn't 
worth the wait, never mind that you're drowning your troubles with Ranma but 
apparently still clinging to this non-existent relationship.  It's the same 
damned thing!"  He downed another drink and slammed it on the counter for 
emphasis.

	"It's not the same at all!" she retorted.  "We've known each other 
since we were kids, and besides he's engaged to me!  All you're doing is 
hangin' around and annoying Shampoo!"

	"Oh really?  I guess it never occurred to you that Shampoo and I grew 
up together in the village?  That we were close friends?" Mousse snapped.  
"It's tradition in my village that the strongest warrior in each generation 
marries the fittest male.  If Ranma hadn't blundered along Shampoo and I 
would be together by now!  But of course that couldn't happen, the stupid 
outdated village laws had to screw up my life once again."

	"But Ranchan would have married me by now if it weren't for all the 
other girls!" she complained.

	Mousse just looked at her.

	"Oh, right," she sighed, apologetically.  "That's your problem, too."  
Ukyo attempted to pour herself another drink but succeeded only in spilling 
the remaining sake across the counter.

	"I think you've had enough," Mousse commented.

	Ukyo folded her arms across the bar and laid her head down tiredly.  
"Maybe your' right, Mousse.  Maybe 'nough is 'nough."

	"Well, for you at least," he sighed as he lightly swirled the last 
remaining dish of liquor.  "I could have used some more yet, I think."

	"No, I mean 'nough with one-way love," she explained, turning her head 
to face him but not raising it.

	He set the dish down on the counter and let his head droop.  "I think I 
already gave up on Shampoo a few days ago, actually."

	"What 'bout the fight in the gym, or today then?" she asked.

	"Just kidding myself, really," he explained with a slight bitter 
chuckle. "I think I was more upset that those two jerks lucked into something 
I couldn't manage to earn than actually trying to win her love... just 
fighting for my wounded pride, I guess."

	"Lucky you, then," Ukyo sighed. "I still love my Ranchan, even though I 
shouln'."

	"You'll get over him eventually, I'm sure," he replied, downing the 
last drink with a sad smile.  "You'll meet someone who has a much better 
appreciation of the loyalty and warmth you have to offer, Ukyo."

	She paused in the conversation and for the first time in the evening 
stopped to really look at the young man before her.  He didn't have Ranma's 
rugged good looks or cocksure grin, but rather a more cultured kind of 
handsomeness and a greater appreciation for common politeness.  His shoulders 
weren't quite as broad but he stood several inches taller, and his muscles 
were, as she'd learned while bandaging him, just as toned beneath his 
clothing as Ranma's.  

	She squinted against the slight blurriness to take note the details of 
his face, usually so strong and proud but at this moment softened with 
hopelessness and loss, weighed down with bitter regrets.  In a way he 
reminded her of the way Ranma would look every time he came to her restaurant 
and sat in this exact same spot needing someone to share his troubles with, a 
young man nearly crushed to death under the weight of his responsibilities.  
In short, Mousse looked hopeless, vulnerable and in desperate need of 
comfort; the same way she assumed she would look to herself right now.

	Gathering her courage, she managed to break the silence by blurting, 
"Someone like you?"

	"'Uh?" Mousse replied without looking up.  She noted that his voice was 
just a bit slurred now as well.

	"Ya said I should find someone who can 'preciate my loyalty and 
warmth," she explained, scooting closer to him on her stool.  "Who better n' 
somebody who has the same problem?"

	Mousse looked up at her, looking directly into her eyes but not backing 
away.  "Are you sayin' what I think you are?" he asked seriously.

	In answer she scooted off of her barstool to stand uneasily, 
maintaining a firm hood on the counter for support.  With her free hand she 
gently brushed the long, sleek hair that hung in front of his cheek to its 
ends, reversed direction to follow the contours of his jaw line up to his 
glasses, and lightly removed them from his face.

	Mousse opened his mouth to say something, but Ukyo would tolerate no 
more words.  She leaned in quickly, dropping his glasses carelessly so that 
she could cup his face while she stole a kiss.  In the process of moving in, 
however, she lost her grip on the countertop and tumbled into him heavily, 
dislodging the surprised young man from his seat to fall in a tangled heap of 
drunken limbs with her on the restaurant floor.



Author's notes:

	First off, if you're reading this 'Ghost', could you send me an e-mail 
directly?  I tried to reply to your rather helpful reviews but my messages 
keep getting bounced back for some reason.

	Secondly... yeah, I know this took forever to come out.  I've got a 
life outside of fanfiction that keeps me pretty busy, and on my free time I'd 
often rather have a few drinks with friends and watch football than write.  I 
said that I'll finish this story and I meant it, but I won't give any 
specific deadline for completion.  To those of you who have inquired about 
the story's status, please understand that I do appreciate that you enjoy my 
work so don't take this as some sort of insult.  However, I am not at all 
sorry that this story has been 'delayed' for so long... that's just the way 
things are going to be for this fic.

	The hold Kuno used on Mousse is a slightly modified form of the move 
known as "Kataha Jime" or "Single-Wing Choke," a traditional subdual grip 
practiced in judo.

	To the best of my knowledge, Shinosuke's family name isn't given in the 
manga.  The name Kushinada is taken from the young woman who was to be the 
Orochi's sacrifice in the original Japanese myth, so it seemed appropriate.  
If anyone can offer me a reliable source for an official name, though, I'll 
be happy to change it.

	And yes, I am fully aware that some of the material in this chapter 
could be considered 'cheesy'.  Rest assured that nothing will be developing 
in nice, clean lines despite any present appearances.

Nemesis_Zero, AKA Brian #2

Reviews welcomed, appreciated, and sometimes even answered!  Wow!