Into Every Life, a Little Rain Must Fall A Ranma 1/2 (manga) fanfic by Nemesis_Zero Act 4: A Rhythm in the Flames Part 1 Pre-reader: Robert Recap of Last Chapter: Ranma unveiled his plan to solve the fiancée dilemma once and for all by declaring that he really couldn't make an honorable choice. Therefore it was the girls' problem, not his. Several people disagreed with this notion, but he went even further, declaring that the situation would end this night... either by the fiancées choosing one among themselves or his seppuku at dawn! While the girls went upstairs to talk, Ranma found time to make a deal with Ryoga that regardless of the outcome neither would interfere with the other's attempts to win Akane. He talked with Cologne about his dreams, which set her off on a quest for information. Finally, Ryu came back from his spar with Mousse in time for a quick demonstration of the forbidden Umisenken stealth technique... against the advice of both Genma and Cologne. The girls tried everything they could come up with to settle the issue, but dawn came before an answer did. Taro's sudden appearance on behalf of the jilted Kodachi bought some time, though. Nabiki spent it wisely, finally convincing the fiancées to all give up their claims so that Ranma could live and they would essentially all be on the same footing anyway (well, except for Shampoo due to another complication). The fiancées rushed downstairs with the good news just as Ranma managed to take down his monstrous foe, the first time he'd ever done so without help. Things quickly turned sour from there as Ranma revealed the whole idea was a test (based on the old "if you love something, let it go..." cliché)... and one they had all failed by refusing to quit individually. The girls made their displeasure plainly known, and nobody left happy. Even the majority of the Saotome family was still rather annoyed at the whole situation Ranma had put them through. --@@@@@-- He awoke suddenly, the effect of being shoved casually aside by his new wife. At least there wasn't any real malice behind it... a definite improvement over Shampoo. Rather than rise he chose to stay in the dirt where he lay for the moment, gazing up at her as his stretched across the hard ground, working out some residual soreness from his sparring session with Ryu. "Good morning, Ukyo," he offered blandly as a greeting to the brownish-haired blur. She paused in fumbling tiredly with the keys to look his way, then closed her eyes and sighed. "Mousse, can't whatever you want wait till later? I'm dead on my feet here." "I don't mean to keep you up long but, um, I'm kinda still unwelcome at the restaurant and all..." he hinted, while feeling around for his glasses. "...And you figured that for some reason I'd let you sleep here," she finished the thought. She turned away and finished unlocking the door, stepped in, but paused in the doorway. "I know I'm gonna regret asking this, but why exactly did you think I'd go for this idea?" The first answer to spring to mind was 'Because you're my wife', but his memories of the previous morning told him that was likely to just piss her off. "...Because you're, um, such a generous person?" the Amazon finally hazarded. With a noncommittal grunt the chef continued walking into the dark store, leaving the door open behind her. After finally finding his lenses again, Mousse got up and brushed himself off. He then peered inside the store, unsure of how to take the non- answer. "Um, hello?" he called after her into the mostly unlit space, unsure of where she had gotten off to. Still not receiving an answer, he stumbled in curiously, shutting the door behind him. He headed towards the back room, where the sounds of light slumber could be heard emanating from the supply closet; the ninja, he guessed. Finding the door closed, Mousse chose instead to head upstairs to Ukyo's room, presumably where she wandered off to. Her door was ajar. He knocked lightly on the frame, but still received no answer. The Amazon took a deep breath then pushed aside the barrier, half expecting to be kicked in the face at any moment. "You've got some real balls coming into my room like this, Mousse. I'll give you that much credit." Ukyo was apparently already in bed, her kimono left carelessly on the floor in a heap. "You, um, never really answered my question back there..." he mumbled in explanation. Had her attitude towards him changed back to affectionate by the evening's events? Was she wearing anything under those sheets? "I didn't say no, if that's what you're getting at," she replied, "but I didn't invite you in either, so don't expect much in the way of hospitality." "I guess I understand," the Amazon answered, then began to disrobe. "Oh for Kami's sake!" she half growled, turning to face away from him. "Look, you can stay the night but there's no way in hell I'm sleeping with you again, jackass. Bah, Amazons..." "But I thought maybe..." "The spare futon's in the closet by the bathroom," she explained. "Go find some open floor and set yourself up. I'm too tired to play hostess." Mousse walked towards the indicated door, but paused to gather up her discarded robe. If he was headed to the closet anyway, he decided, he might as well do her a favor and put it up. The formal garment looked like it was meant to folded up in some fashion, but being unfamiliar with it he chose to just hang it up on a wire hanger. Better than the floor, at least. Behind rows of her typical market clothes and a pair of male school uniforms he found the tightly rolled bedding mat she had spoken of. The young man took a few steps towards the door before some twinge of pride and rebelliousness caused him to pause. Without further ado he dropped the mat next to her larger western-style bed and unrolled it where the kimono had been moments before. "What exactly are you doing?" the chef groaned, rolling back over to glare at him. "You said to find some open floor... this spot looks pretty open to me, right?" he replied without meeting her gaze directly. "Argh... fine, whatever," she snapped, lying back down in a huff. The Amazon grinned at his small victory, safe in the relative darkness of the room. "...but if you try anything funny, and I do mean anything, I promise that no amount of hot water will be able to make you a man again. You got that?" His grin died a horrible death and his throat went dry. With a gulp, he returned an affirmative "Yeah, uh, no problem." "Well, good night then." "Uh... good morning, actually." "Mousse?" "Yes?" "Shut up." So this was married life; going to sleep on the floor with only a cheap, lumpy, itchy, thinly padded mat to call your own... while his wife, for all of a whole day now, claimed the soft, inviting mattress and its thick covers all to herself. Tossing and turning, struggling in vain to find a comfortable way to sleep on this potato sack of a bed, Mousse had to wonder just what the hell is was that made people want this life. Oh yeah... sex. But then it seemed that the rumors were true on that account... their sex life had quickly gone downhill after marriage, just like all the old men back in the village used to joke about. Kind of depressing in a way, he decided... one decent night he only really half remembered, and in payment the rest of his life was hers. Still, at least she was treating him better than Shampoo usually did. He felt a wave of homesickness though, wishing he was back in that idealistic world back in China before he'd ever heard of Ranma. A place where he was free to sample the wears of any village girl who would have him... Well, to be honest the three that had invited him to 'explore their mysteries' weren't exactly prizes. Ban Shi was incredibly annoying whenever she opened her mouth, Haru Pi kept nagging him, and Bao Reng, with her calm, patient manner, just wasn't exciting enough for him. All three publicly scorned him when he left the village for Japan, jealous no doubt of his ongoing attention to Shampoo. He remembered it was rather an odd feeling, to be rejected by people he had known so well and yet really didn't care all that much for. On the one hand he didn't really care, as he had already rejected them, but still the fact that they were so strongly set against him had left Mousse with a certain degree of hurt anyway. He decided that was probably the reason for Ukyo's attitude lately. She couldn't help feeling a little bad that, whatever had transpired after he left, she didn't come home with Saotome in tow. Sure the chef had openly rejected her former fiancé by marrying him, but there might be some residual feelings there to work out still. Mousse just needed to be patient and stay available... eventually she'd get over it and adjust to their new life. Unless of course she really didn't want to be married... "Mousse?" "Uh, yes?" he replied, caught off guard by the unexpected intrusion on his inner monologue. "Would you _please_ stop rolling around down there and muttering to yourself? You're keeping me up and kinda creeping me out at the same time." An opportunity? "Sorry, it's just that I'm kind of uncomfortable down here. Saotome's cousin gave me a hell of a workout... I'm not sure he fully understands the concept of sparing." At least he sure hoped that he wasn't holding back. A pillow rained down on him from above, striking with unnecessary force. "I was just wondering, if, you know, I could maybe come up there instead?" he queried cautiously. "Gee, I wonder what the world speed record is for a radical castration with a kitchen utensil?" she replied with less hesitation. "I'm sure I can beat my old record..." He wisely concluded talks for the time being. --<>=<>-- She awoke with a start and glanced to the clock, then cursed her weakness for falling asleep. Under normal circumstances she could remain active almost indefinitely, should the circumstances require her attentions. Certainly this was one such instance, perhaps the most daunting challenge she had faced since becoming matriarch, and here she was nodding off while reading the ancient history of her people like a common undisciplined girl. In truth she was quite lucky to be alive, but that would hardly matter in the long run if what she suspected came to pass. Then again this was all moot if the boy's so-called plan failed to work out. Regardless of the outcome she had been planning on attending, but the sun was already fully above the horizon. The sound of rapid impacts from the back lot told her just where to go to ask, however, and eliminated one of the possible outcomes. Unsure of how she personally felt about that new information, the elder proceeded downstairs to see to her heir, who surely wasn't in the best of moods regardless of which of the other outcomes had come to fruition. The scene playing out before her left her somewhat confused, however. The makeshift training equipment they had created from scrap metal, wood, and other items was now little more that so much scrap spread across the yard. It was for precisely this reason that the Amazons never paid for 'quality' training gear, but some of these were fairly new and should have lasted much longer than they had... especially the iron drum they found last week and filled with rocks, now lying on its side and split in twain under the force of repeated solid blows. At the center of the mess Shampoo continued to bash the pile with overhand swings of one of her bonbori with nothing resembling training or skill. "Enough!" the elder shouted forcefully in her native tongue, throwing off the girl in mid swing. Shampoo's grip slipped at the impact and the bludgeoning implement's handle slipped free, rebounding with the blow to smack into her forehead and topple her gracelessly into the dirt. She declined to react to the pain, choosing instead to growl in frustration and kick the misshapen drum. "Child, this tantrum is not worthy of you and is doing your training no good at all." Cologne scolded as she approached the petulant young warrior, then sighed. In a softer voice she asked, "I take it the evening's outcome was... not to your liking?" "Not to anyone's liking," the girl admitted with a scowl as she sat up. "Ranma is a damned fool." "Most men are, dear," she replied with a forced smile, trying to ignore the particular wording her young apprentice had chosen, "...and Ranma more than most others." Shampoo laughed, but not in humor. "He said it was all just a test, a game to see which of us gave up first. He intended to marry the one who showed she loved him least!" "Quite foolish indeed," she agreed, though certain there was more to it than this simple explanation. "So who quit first then? Akane?" "No one quit first, Great-Grandmother. We argued until dawn without getting anywhere." "So... he's dead then?" Cologne hazarded, though suspecting it much more likely that he simply ran away when faced with his mortality, as he had several times before. The boy was hardly the bravest she'd known, though to his credit he usually found his nerve whenever others were in real danger. "No, not dead yet," Shampoo replied ruefully. "We didn't want him to die, not like that. The greedy Tendo suggested we all give up to save him, and... I agreed. We all did." Shampoo punched the ground angrily before continuing, "And that stupid bastard was -angry- that we let him live! He said that we all failed his stupid test, that we somehow proved we didn't love him!" The elder grimaced and shook her head, astounded at the folly of youth. If the boy was still alive, however, she hadn't the time to waste counseling her ward in her latest romantic setback. "I share your feelings, child, but there is something I have to take care of. You and Mu Tzu will remain here long enough to pack whatever of our belongings you wish to keep and to sell this property." She paused and looked around, then asked, "Where is that loafer anyway? I have instructions for him as well." "He hasn't been here for a few days." Shampoo replied, neutrally. The old woman's interest was piqued. "Gone, that lovesick fool? How hard did you hit him?" "I didn't hit him," she explained. "Well, not recently, anyway. He went out a couple of days ago and hasn't been back since." "Yet I saw him at Ranma's Mother's house the other evening," the matriarch snapped. "If he is well he should be here, which makes me wonder what you did to him to drive him off again." "I didn't beat him up again, if that's what you're asking," Shampoo sniffed, defensively. "But you did do something, didn't you." "I just used him to show Kuno how the curses work," Shampoo replied. "You humiliated him before someone he views as a rival," Cologne sighed, rubbing her temples. "So I can only assume he's plotting some sort of revenge on the boy now. Why weren't you keeping tabs on him? Who knows what kind of madness he's planning..." "My new..." shampoo grimaced, "husband... is better than him anyway, so who cares?" "You really should have more respect for his skills, child. You don't give him nearly enough credit." "But he's a male! He shouldn't have those skills in the first place!" "This is an old argument, and one I don't have time for at the moment. I expect you to bring both Mu Tzu and your husband back to the village with you. Finding them and keeping them from killing each other is your problem." Shampoo blinked. "But... why so soon? Why the rush?" "If my suspicions are correct, and I pray they are not, Ranma may be under the influence of a dark spirit... The Pale One." The younger Amazon recoiled as if struck. "But... But that's just a myth, a story to frighten the children," she whispered, then turned a hopeful glance at the elder. "Isn't it?" "You fought the Phoenix King, did you not? If that part of the tale is true why should I not assume this one is as well? Surely you noticed his curse reacted unusually last night, sensed the change in his behavior, and felt the hunger of that black aura..." Cologne turned to look at the sky, sighing "Child, he's seen the demon in his dreams, even spoken with it." "Will you kill him?" Shampoo asked flatly. Cologne turned back to her great-granddaughter, but could not gage whether the girl actually wanted that outcome or not. "It may very well be the easiest answer, I admit. If I can get him back to the village perhaps the other elders and I will find a way to save him in the scrolls of record. But if not..." The sentence need not be completed. "And even if I do, there is no guarantee that the damnable fiend won't just pick another host. I don't have the answer at this point." Shampoo stood up, dusting herself off quickly as she rose, and turned away. "I understand. I will handle everything here." "Xian Pu..." "Just go!" Shampoo yelled, then added in a lower tone, "Please, Great Grandmother... just go. I will do as you asked." "Very well," she replied, then bounded to the rooftops. For her sake she would give the less fatal approach a try, for now. --%%%%%-- He stood on the edge of a solid rock ledge, gazing down from on high at the indistinct landscape below. The forest, once alluring and fearsome, stood no more; a charred and blackened space ravaged by recent fire filled its place while the scent of smoke still clung to him, thick and heavy. The once gentle green hills were pale and frozen beneath a blanket of ice crystals, each drift edge gleaming like razors in the shifting moonlight. Looking beyond these immediate landscapes revealed only an endless bank of cold grey fog which seemed to melt into the clouds above to form a subtle, but effective, barrier to his perceptions. The whole of the landscape was still and dead, save for a slight chill breeze and the distant roll of thunder. Ranma wasn't really taking in these details, however. He was far more concerned with getting the timing right so that when the figure he expected to appear behind him any second now decided to drop in, his attack would catch him by surprise. There, the skin on the back of his neck prickled with a faint static charge; immediately he threw himself backwards with his full strength, twisting in mid air to snap his leg at a height just above his own face. He growled in annoyance as his blow only succeeded in dissipating a patch of dark fog. "Still feeling a bit aggressive, are we?" a monotone voice asked from higher up the cliffs. "Didn't I tell ya I didn't wanna see you again?" The young man snapped. "Why can't ya get it through your head that I don't give a damn about whatever you wanna tell me?" "And why are you so unable to listen to a few simple words? What are you afraid of?" the dark figure returned, merely standing on the ledge in a natural posture, his hands hidden beneath the shifting multi-hued robes. "I only wish to talk." "Yeah? Well that's just tough," Ranma muttered as he leapt upward, propelling himself ever higher as he kicked against the nearly sheer surface of the cliffs to reach the next ledge, briefly losing sight of his query. He tensed his arms tight against his chest until just clearing the ledge, then flung them wide to release a large vacuum blade. He landed lightly on the stone shelf and glanced around as the wave bit a hollow gash into the face, his new prey absent. "First fear, now anger... which emotion will you hide behind next, I wonder?" asked Norou without amusement from somewhere below. "Will you try to drown out my words with the sound of your tears?" "You could only dream, pal!" Ranma growled, peering over the edge to spot his foe standing where he had been moments before. With a smirk he spread his fingers wide and released spikes of angry red chi, each of the ten rays resulting in a bakusai tenketsu explosion on contact with the raw stone. He then used the forbidden kijin raishü dan technique again to sheer off the platform of stone he now perched on, ridding the block down the already crumbling surface to the lower level as both a sled and a weapon. He stood ready, senses at full alert, as the debris and dust settled around him. Yet again it seemed the interloper had evaded his attempt to close and fight. He quickly glanced around, both above and below his current station, but made no move yet in either direction. "You must realize this is pointless by now." The pale man spoke softly, his words riding the faint breeze. "It is fundamentally impossible for you to defeat me here." Ranma quickly spotted him, standing just as unconcerned as ever, but perched on thin air some fifty meters out from his current location. Rather than leap blindly in pursuit, he changed strategic gears and fell back on a familiar tactic. "Really... then why did you take off after I belted ya last time? If you're so sure I can't beat ya then why are you playing keep away, coward?" "Perhaps because this only serves as a distraction, a waste of my time and yours? This is a dream, Ranma... nothing you can do here has any physical consequence." Norou answered patiently. "Participating in a common brawl is far from my intent, as I have already explained repeatedly." "Wait a sec... this isn't just a dream; it's MY dream!" Ranma charged his unwilling foe, running across the open space as surely as if it were a paved street. Ahead of him clouds circled and closed, metamorphosing into steel bands to encapsulate the figure. "You can't keep running away if I don't let ya!" The young man's advantage was very short lived, however. With a tired shake of his head the cloaked man disappeared again in a puff of dark fog, leaving his heavy bonds to fall freely to the ground far below. Ranma's newfound control lapsed at this change, and, despite his better intentions, he could not prevent himself from plummeting after them. As he fell he grit his teeth and clamped his eyes firmly shut, fighting his own fear response and whirling subconscious to find a way out of this mess. "Yes, clever of you to realize you can control the rules of your dreamscape," came honest praise from his reluctant foe, "However, I am no mere figment of you dream, Ranma. You can't make me go away with a whim." The problem, he suddenly realized, was the world. As long as it remained, he'd have to keep resisting his instincts and understanding of its workings if he had any hope of fighting Norou on an even level. With all the force of will he could muster, he shut out the sensation of the wind cutting into his limbs as he plummeted, ignored the sights and sounds and smells of the world until his perceptions consisted of just himself in an empty void, all alone with his enemy. Cautiously he opened his eyes to find the view very much the same as when they were shut. "Is this meant to prove something?" Ranma looked up (not that up seemed to have much meaning anymore, he noted) to see that his opponent was still simply floating in place, casually. This lackadaisical attitude infuriated him, making it quite easy to summon a very potent burst of crimson chi and launch it in Norou's direction. Rather than blaze a trail towards the figure, however, it slowed as it moved, eventually coming to a stop midway between them, still crackling with unresolved destructive potency. Norou slid effortlessly to the side, reestablishing line of sight between the two. "Do I honestly have to beat some sense into you before you'll listen?" he asked, his voice trailing into a sigh. Ranma paused, sensing an opportunity. "Tell you what... If ya stop dancing around long enough to actually beat me, then yeah, I'll listen. If I win though, you have to stay the hell out of my head from now on. Deal?" "Fine then, I accept. Enjoy your requested serving of pain." Norou's pale, boney hands emerged from the depths of his shifting robes to make a strange twisting gesture. His image seemed to blur suddenly, like ripples on a pond, only to reform as a view of Ranma's own back. Ranma puzzled at this odd scene just long enough for him to notice that his chi attack was again moving, followed thereafter by a searing pain from behind as the angry chi impacted with him and exploded. The force of the impact sent him spiraling out of control, twisting and twirling without respect to any frame of reference and leaving him with a nauseating sensation of dizziness. For a moment he caught a glimpse of his enemy, still quite some distance away, but was distracted by a wave of sudden impacts into his body from all sides, as if being assaulted by invisible fists and feet. He tried to roll with the phantom impacts as best he could, but they came too fast and from all sides seemingly at once. His vision blurred and his body burned when the onslaught ended, leaving him feeling as if he had just gone three rounds against a Ryoga who knew the amaguriken technique. "Do you yield?" the pale man asked simply. Ranma silently shook his head to indicate no, determined to fight through the pain. "Are you quite sure? It is no shame to lose such a match, given the circumstances." Norou floated closer at a leisurely pace, throwing the occasional punch haphazardly at the empty void. As each strike ended the image of his limb seemed to hang in the air for a moment, then fade away as if multiplied and pulled apart in layers, each leaving a ghostly image drifting in different directions before vanishing completely. "I'm sure you've no experience whatsoever fighting in zones of variable time and space. It was rather foolish of you to so willingly destroy the framework of your dreamscape, however; At least there I was forced to bend the rules you live by rather than break them at will." "Don't matter," Ranma spat. "Stupid tricks won't stop me. Match ain't over yet." "As you wish." Another wave of blows came, but this time Ranma was ready for them. At first they hurt, but as he silently repeated the mantra 'only a dream' the sensation faded away into just the vaguest sensation of pressure. The ache of previous blows melted away as well, leaving him fresh and ready to continue. "That all ya got?" he taunted, then released a swath of vacuum blades towards the robed man, concentrating on keeping its path true. For a moment the image seemed to ripple again, but then the blade cut through the plane of the effect, shattering it like glass. Norou blinked, then quickly floated out of the path of the attack, barely dodging the trailing edge. "Unfortunately for you, Ranma, no, it is not," the figure replied evenly. "If phantom pains will not dissuade you from this foolishness, perhaps real ones will." The first change began as a dull ache, radiating from his lower spine like an uncomfortable pressure. The sensation intensified as it spread in waves, accompanied by an itching, tingling sensation like all of her body falling asleep at once. With each wave the pain and pressure was magnified, pressing in on him from all sides and then flowing back out, as if her skin might burst as his body warped and shifted. "This is no mere dream-stuff, Ranma, no figment. The pain you feel now is real. This pain is happening to your real flesh right now, while you lay helpless in bed. I repeat: do you yield?" Time seemed to slow further, and with it the sensations became still more acute. The waves of pressure washed over her accompanied with searing heat now, charring away her hips, her breasts, all her curves becoming just so much smoke, ash, and dripping, melted fat. They flowed back out with icy sharpness, penetrating his muscles and genitals like razors and hooks, stripping the bulk of his flesh like shredded beef. Through it all her bones shifted and warped, his joints creaking with the sudden torque of rapid expansion and contraction, and her agonized screams came unbidden through his jaws, finally beating out her pride and begging for his suffering to end. "There, was that so hard?" "You bastard..." Ranma moaned in reply, unable to find the will to move even a finger as blissful numbness replaced all sensation of pain. "You've been doing this to me for days now, haven't ya? Making me suffer just for your amusement... just a damn sadist." "Actually, I was trying to teach you a lesson in humility after you struck me the last time we met. Enjoying your torment was just an added bonus," he explained with deadpan calm. "And of -course- I'm a sadist... I wouldn't be much of demon without finding a certain pleasure watching the growing pains of others, now would I? Especially since I'm a Soul Render by trade." "Huh?" Ranma replied cluelessly. "Oh, don't worry about the details. You will get the hang of it in no time, I guarantee it," The pale man smirked, more or less kneeling next to her weightlessly drifting form. "At the rate you've been developing lately I would not be surprised if you were ready for the next phase inside another two weeks." "And you're the voice in my head, too... the one that made me go psycho on the Orrochi." "Not while you're awake, no. Too much trouble to manifest in the physical world so far from my sphere of influence," he answered in an oddly conversational tone. "But enough about that; you agreed to listen, not to ask questions all morning." "Said I'd listen, not that I'd blindly do what ya want. Spit it out already." "Very well. To put it simply, I am here to develop your latent talents, Ranma, and to guide you down the dark path you've chosen." "Path that I've chosen? What path?" Ranma asked, interrupting. Norou stared at her silently until she shut her mouth. "As I was explaining, I am what mortals refer to as a demon, but what you need to understand is that soon you will be one as well. Your sprit called out for aid in the caverns of Jusendo, and the darkness answered your call. With your new strength you cut down the would-be-godling... and I took notice. Now I am here to guide you in the process you have begun... as a professional courtesy, you might say." "Me, a demon... Right." Ranma deadpanned. "So say this is true; what do you get outta it? I'm findin' the idea of a generous demon something that just don't fit, ya know?" "Oh, just by helping you down the path I'm sure that all I want will naturally come to be along the way. What meager profits I acquire from this relationship will hardly be noticeable to you at all, in the end." "Sure," Ranma replied, "cause that don't sound suspicious at all." A sudden spike of pain and pressure washed over her, serving as a reminder to him why he was now listening to the pale man in the first place. Norou assumed a more imposing posture, seeming to tower above him, as the flames that seemed to pass for his eyes blazed with a harsh intensity. "You haven't the slightest idea how..." he began, but he trailed off, distractedly. Suppressing a growl, he continued, "...annoying... it is to be interrupted so often. We will speak again very soon, Ranma." --?????-- "Squee!" the piglet roared in frustration as best it could, then sank dejectedly to sit on the sidewalk and gaze at the morning sun, now fully above the horizon. The sight offered proof that his conception of The Way Things Are was certainly outdated now, but offered no hints as to how the rules had changed. Was Akane available? Was his constant opponent and occasional friend alive? Both? Neither? The prospects were alternately thrilling and depressing, but as long as Ryoga was... well, wherever the hell he was... the suspense would only grow worse. When he was younger and more idealistic, Ryoga often imagined that his navigational difficulties were the result of some mysterious curse, and wondered just what his ancestors could have done to warrant it. He often daydreamed that he would stumble across the secret to their affliction and lift the mysterious stain from the Hibiki family line by completing some great heroic feat of bravery. In fact this pleasant fantasy was the original motivation for him to learn the Art; preparation for the day when an opportunity would arise to earn redemption. Now he was much more cynical, experience having provided numerous lessons on the fact that the world was not a fair, orderly place. He believed that if his getting lost was a curse (rather than a chemical imbalance in his brain or something), that it was almost certainly not something that had actually been earned. It was far more likely that one of Ryoga's ancestors had just accidentally been in the wrong place at the wrong time (like how he got this damnable pig's body), and from that moment on his family was never allowed to be at the right place at the right time. If that was true, then redemption wasn't really a possibility; revenge, his motivator of choice these days, was the only reasonable option left if he ever found the person or thing responsible. Still, the naïve dreamer wasn't completely dead in Ryoga's heart... quite the opposite in fact. He still hoped for and end to his problems, but the knowledge of how remote the chance was that such fanciful notions might come true had transformed them from uplifting aspirations into something more akin to a cold stone wheel, on which he sharpened his anger and despair. Often he tried to picture his own personal heaven when he needed to push his usual Shishi Hokodan blasts into the perfected form. Such was the nature of his relationships with Ranma and Akane, from a certain point of view. He held out no real hope of defeating Ranma in a fight, nor of wooing the apparently most desirable young woman in Japan (if Akane's hordes of suitors were any indication), yet found the bittersweet taste of second place strangely satisfying. At least when he lost he knew where things stood. In contrast, those times when it seemed he might actually achieve his goals often left Ryoga feeling lost and uncertain, too paralyzed by the dazzling possibilities to attain them. It was exactly this panic that struck when he was almost stepped on by some careless oaf strolling back from the convenience store... and saw that the oaf in question was none other than Tendo Soun. He simply froze, unable to decide whether he should follow him back and find out what happened or run away and enjoy the ignorance of bliss a little while longer. In the end the choice was rendered moot when the Tendo patriarch snatched him up by the bandana and dropped him into his grocery bag where he stoically rode without complaint, wedged uncomfortably in the paper bag between two cartons of cigarettes and a bottle of vegetable oil. "I'm home!" Soun announced as he kicked off his shoes and quickly removed the bottle of oil from the sack and slid the rest to the small of his back. "Not so loud, Father," Kasumi's voice admonished as Ryoga's conveyance walked towards the kitchen and leaned in the doorway. "Akane and Nabiki need their rest." "Quite so... and here's what you needed from the store, daughter," the Tendo patriarch replied as he sat the bottle on the counter, making no move to fully enter the door. "Father," Kasumi began with an insinuating tone, "What are you trying to hide?" "Um, hide? Ha, as if I had any secrets worth keeping!" "You bought cigarettes again, didn't you." It wasn't a question. "You've plenty already for the week, assuming you cut back like you said you would." "I will, it's just that, um... they were on sale?" Soun guessed. "Well, at least Nabiki would say you're making progress," The eldest daughter huffed. "It's a bit chilly out today... think I'll take a bath and warm up." P-Chan perked up at this comment and began struggling to get some leverage from his cramped position. Soun apparently noticed and changed his grip on the package so that he was even more confined than before. "Don't take too long, father. I'll have breakfast ready soon." Soun backed out of the doorway and made a hasty retreat towards the furo. Once the coast was clear he removed the struggling P-Chan from the bag and doused him with a bucket of cold water, washing away the grime of the road. Ryoga squealed in protest, but was casually directed with a thumb towards the tub. Soun, still fully dressed, tore into one of the cartons. "...More like her mother every day," he grumbled. P-Chan took the suggestion, annoyed at the scene and his treatment but still unsure how to deal with this situation. "Don't look at me like that, young man," Soun snapped as he ignited his drug of choice. "I can't very well tell her that I finished all of them since I learned of Ranma's return. Besides, I need to have a talk with you, man to man." "How the heck did you know it was me?" Ryoga snapped. Soun exhaled in the boy's face. "Well it was pretty obvious when you changed in the furo while I was using it, you know. I assumed you knew that I knew, and abused my daughter's trust anyway." "Abused?" Hibiki echoed, stunned by the bluntness of the statement. "But I, um... Hey, if you thought of it like that why didn't you say something earlier?" "Because it suited my purposes, of course. Genma and I agreed that your presence was forcing Ranma to reveal his feelings for Akane thorough his actions." "You used me... that makes you every bit as much to fault as I am in this," Ryoga reasoned, "so where do you get off telling me I abused Akane's trust?" "Keep your voice down!" Soun hissed, then took another deep drag before continuing. "Because the situation is no longer necessarily in my favor, young man." "So, you know how Ranma, uh, ended up, I guess?" Ryoga hesitantly asked, receiving a nod in reply. "So, who..." "No-one; Nabiki told me he spurned them all and backed out of the seppuku pledge." Tendo coughed, then clarified, "Well that's more or less what she said, anyway. She wasn't too specific." "That cowardly bastard! I'll..." "You'll Wake up Akane and Nabiki if you don't keep quiet, that's what you'll do." Ryoga sheepishly looked away, though his fist remained clenched. "So you want me to kick Ranma's ass for you, is that it? Just point me in the right direction. Mr. Tendo." "No, lad, I've no desire to have you beaten up at the moment," Soun chuckled. "What I want is for you to clarify your intensions towards my daughter. Do you truly care for her, or has it always just been a way to get under Ranma's skin?" "Yeah, I care for her..." the Lost Boy replied, though left unspoken his conflicted feelings for a certain other girl as well. Technically he was breaking a promise to her just being here now, but that could hardly be his fault... this time, anyway. "Excellent!" Soun beamed, patting him on the back. "I was rather hoping I could count on you to cheer her up and keep her training on schedule." "You really mean it?" Ryoga gasped. "Of course I do," Soun replied resolutely. "The future of the school, and of my daughter of course, is utmost in my thinking. Now tell me, son, how can I get a hold of your parents? We've got some things to talk about as well, I believe." "Um," Ryoga blinked, mind awhirl at all the changes happening in his life today. "I, uh, don't really know, to be honest. They're away from home as much as I am, near as I can tell." "Hmm... guess I'll have to work on that end of things, I suppose. No matter." Soun replied, then extinguished his cigarette. With cupped hands he gathered a little bit of water from the furo and wet his hair, mussing it slightly. "Guess I'll leave you to a nice soak then, my boy." "Thank you, Mr. Tendo." he replied with enthusiasm. "Don't think this comes without strings though, lad," the master of the home cautioned. "For starters, you –are- going to tell her the truth about her pet... right?" "Uh, yeah I, um, always kinda planned to... eventually." "Well, plan to do so soon," Soun replied as he shut the door to the outer changing area. "And while you're at it, don't mention that I knew you were cursed, okay?" Ryoga relaxed for a bit longer in the all-encompassing heat of the furo, then rose and changed himself back into a piglet. He said that he'd tell Akane, but didn't plan to do so just yet. He'd definitely have to before she learned to project her chi though, he decided. It would be much safer that way, in case she took it badly. He set off once again on a quest to find his love, this time making sure to turn around if he saw anything outside. His aimless tour of the house passed a frighteningly cheerful Soun and Kasumi, looking far calmer then she had recently been. The lost pig continued about the place, passing through the family room, twice ending up buried in Happosai's treasure horde, and stopping for a moment to respect the shrine from the dojo. He eventually found the staircase, and only had to wander into Ranma's old room once before he found the right door. After some acrobatic twisting while hanging from the doorknob by his teeth, he at last heard the familiar snores of his beloved. She twisted about her bed in a fury, apparently having one of those dangerous dreams again. He stood by and waited out her slumbering barrage of attacks on invisible foes, waiting until she wore herself out before hopping up to the former battlefield of her mattress. Satisfied that he was safe for the moment, P-Chan burrowed his way under the covers. She reflexively hugged him to her chest, and he drifted off to sleep in comfortable bliss. --88888-- A single eye snapped opened, squinted and blinked at the sudden reintroduction of light to its world, then rolled about its socket in search of the disturbance that had ended its rest. Finding nothing out of place in the immediate area, it closed again. Genma yawned, scratched himself, and rolled over on his futon away from the slightly open exterior panel door. If anything was wrong, the boy would handle it anyway... no reason for him to get up yet. Briefly he wondered just what he had done to earn Nodoka's displeasure this time, the reason why he was sleeping on a traveling bed on the living room floor of his own house, before deciding it was pointless to speculate. Who can tell what women are thinking? Or if they think, for that matter, rather than just react? Ranma might, he thought with a smirk, which would go a long way towards explaining how... bitchy... his son was acting since China. Sure the boy might occasionally be stuck in the body of girl, but that was no reason to start letting silly, petty things like emotions cloud his judgment... especially if they drove him towards blaming his innocent, well-meaning father for even more of his own shortcomings. Surely Ranma would be blaming him for the failure of his insane 'plan', as if he had anything to do with it in the first place; even more reason to stop thinking and go back to sleep, he realized. His intention was brought up short by an anguished scream from upstairs. Another one, he realized, ascertaining the reason for his wakefulness. Great... that damned dream again. If Genma had made any mistakes in his life, surely the Neko-Ken was the biggest. Ever since the pamphlet had so cruelly tricked him into using its forbidden training methods it was rare indeed for him to get a week straight of decent sleep. The boy's screams, the echoing testament to his great weakness. For a martial artist this was far worse than the Jusenkyo curse; that was just a new limitation to overcome coupled with an entire world of new possibilities and forms to exploit. The Neko-Ken, however, impaired his fighting ability greatly by giving him a weakness. Sure the boy -could- use a cat in a fight to gain the upper hand, but more often than not the sudden appearance of a feline was enough to send him running away like a coward, the thought of using it to his advantage never even occurring. Another scream roused the corpulent man to action, ruefully. With annoyed grunt he shook off his coverings and sat up, pausing to take note of the annoyed glare from the room's other occupant. "Hey, I dragged off that... whatever the heck that was in the back yard," Ryu snapped. "Why don't you go be a good host for once and shut off that racket?" The young man rolled over and adjusted his blanket. Genma tiredly lumbered up the steps to the boy's room, intending to end his pitiful nightmare by tossing him out the window... a surprisingly effective means of dealing with the problem he'd long ago discovered. Hopefully the lack of a convenient pond to toss him into wouldn't render it ineffective. What he found behind the door, however, caused him to reexamine his prior thoughts. A dream about cats wouldn't help explain why his son was floating in mid air, surrounded by a black halo of chi, or slowly changing genders without the apparent influence of a source of water. This was a whole new kind of problem, and one he really didn't want to have to deal with. In retrospect, it was probably an even bigger mistake to unseal his techniques, to reveal them all those years ago to his sister's husband. He well knew what he was doing when he handed over the scroll of Yamisen-Ken, how it would unmake the man and destroy all he still loved. Somehow the accidental death of his sister, which he blamed the foolish man for due to negligence, was enough motivation for him to look into that blackness once more. He wished now that he had been less of a coward when the young Kumon first came calling, that he had met the challenge personally rather than putting Ranma into the middle of the problem and once again allowing his secret free. This rolling black halo that seemed to swallow his son whole was somehow connected to those damnable techniques, he was sure. Just looking at it now was enough to tempt him to unseal his techniques again. To take what was rightfully his from whoever might be presumptuous enough to keep it from him, and cut them down without a second thought if they resisted. Ranma screamed again in anguish, the change happening rapidly and repeatedly this time without pause, giving his pain an unnatural warbling pitch. The sound snapped his train of thought and sent him staggering back into the hallway, clutching his head. He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, focused on shutting out the dark whispers. No, he wouldn't give in again, nor would he stand idly by. Through him the forbidden techniques had destroyed two generations of his family, but it would not do the same to his son! He sprang forward, but as he crossed the threshold of the door arcs of black lightning shot towards him, numbing and chilling the flesh where it struck. Feeling his knees and ankles begin to buckle, he threw all his remaining strength into a horizontal leap, carrying him straight into the maw of his foe. His stomach turned as he passed the edge of the aura and he choked down bile, but kept the presence of mind to grapple Ranma's now stilled form as he passed near. On contact his arms and chest went cold and shivered uncontrollably, but he held on long enough for his momentum to slam his son into the wall before both crumple to a pile on the floor. "What the... Get offa me, Pop!" He ignored the comment, instead pausing to take stock of the boy's condition: Male, and apparently staying that way for the moment. Not glowing or otherwise radiating bizarre energy. Not screaming. Bound to obey the laws of gravity. A complete success! A sharp blow to the back of his ribs brought his attention back to the situation at hand. "I'm really not in the mood for one of your surprise sparring sessions today pop... even if you really need it", the younger Saotome growled, then suppressed a yawn. "Geez, at least make sure you get a good wrap-up on me before you use this stupid cradle attack. If I wasn't such a nice guy you'd be missing a kidney right now." "You ungrateful little..." the large man sputtered as he released his grip and rolled backwards into a crouch, then stood. "I just saved you, and that's the thanks I get?" "Saved me from a decent night's rest, maybe," Ranma drawled, brushing himself off. "Sure, you always scream and change sexes repeatedly during a good nap. My mistake." "You... wait, you triggered my curse?" Ranma paused for a second, then grinned. "Heh, no wonder I had that stupid dream." "I didn't say I changed you," Genma stated bluntly. "I said you were changing... repeatedly, and without water. Excuse me for showing a bit of concern." "But that doesn't make any sense!" Ranma protested. "Actually it makes perfect sense," Cologne interjected from her perch on the windowsill, "If you are unfortunate enough to understand what is actually occurring." His son took on a deceptively neutral posture... a sign that he expected trouble. "I take it you and Shampoo had a chat?" "We did," The woman admitted as she hopped fully into the room, "and I must admit I'm somewhat undecided how to feel about the way your little game played out... however, that's not why I'm here. Ranma, we're going back to the village." Ranma shrugged. "Well, have a nice trip then. It was nice knowing ya and all." "Perhaps you misunderstood me," the elder explained. "I meant 'we' as in you and I. Grab whatever things you feel are necessary and let's be off." "What?" Father and Son both snapped, then glanced at each other warily. Cologne let out a frustrated huff. "I did some research last night after we talked about your curse and your dreams. The short version is that your body is being invaded by a powerful demon and I need to get you back to the village where I'll have more resources to draw on." "Are you out of..." the young man began to complain, before being cut off. "So the black aura the boy's been throwing around lately is because of this demon?" Genma interjected, hopefully. A demon was something he could fight and kill... and something that wasn't his fault. Not like his sealed techniques, which became harder to resist abusing with every use, like a common drug. Even now, after decades of ignoring them, he was still tempted from time to time to unseal them, even if only to win a sparring match. And if what Ryu had said was true, Ranma had developed the techniques to a higher level than he had... "And not because of my sealed arts?" Cologne looked at him quizzically. "No, Mr. Saotome, not unless you learned them while training at Jusenkyo." She paused before continuing, "Though the talents for Ki manipulation you passed on to your son certainly could help explain why the demon choose him out of all the available hosts. Regardless, time spent talking about the problem rather than working on it is a waste we can't afford." "Fine then, just let me find my pack," he conceded. "I said I'm taking Ranma, not you." The old woman snapped. "I'll have more than enough trouble explaining his unwed return to the council without having his bumbling oaf of a father in tow. No thank you." "And how do we know this isn't just a last scheme to drag me off to get hitched to Shampoo?" Ranma snapped. "This whole thing sure sounds suspicious to me." "Shampoo will not be traveling with us. I've given her several tasks here in Nerima that will keep her busy for the time being." Genma grunted and his eyes narrowed. "Shampoo isn't the only Amazon I'm worried about. Under no circumstance is my only son running off into another country with you without supervision." "Fine then," Cologne snapped, poking her cane across the room. "I'll bring her along." "That is acceptable," Nodoka agreed simply, standing in the hall outside the doorway. "You can't be serious!" Genma roared, turning to face his spouse. "You don't know the first thing about these people or the dangers of the landscape!" "Somebody's trying to sleep down here..." Ryu yelled from downstairs, and was quickly ignored. "Pop's right, mom," Ranma agreed, though without the anger. "Hikin' across China is no picnic." "Despite your father's comments, I'll have you know I am fully capable of handling myself, Son." She unwrapped the handle on the family blade as she spoke, which caused her husband to swallow reflexively. "Besides, if the Amazons are a matriarchy wouldn't I be in a much better position to see to your safety than your father?" "Quite so... motherhood is a highly honored trait among our people," the elder replied. "But Cherry Dove..." Genma whined, resorting in his desperation to silly old pet names. "But nothing, Husband," his wife replied coldly. "You took my son from me for the better part of eighteen years... is it so hard to let me take care of him for just a little while?" "What about Happosai? You should at least wait until after his funeral," he reasoned. "I'll go with Ranma and you can catch up later, when everything is taken care of." "Why would she care?" Ranma puzzled aloud. "I'm sure you're more than capable of bagging, burning, and burying the old bastard, dear. If you get confused ask Soun for help." "How can you say that about your grandfather, the man who raised you!" the large man demanded. Ranma's mouth fell open. He staggered back a step and sat down on the edge of the bed, his skin suddenly sickly and pale. "You know I was adopted, Genma, and I hardly think any of his antics can seriously be considered properly raising me," Nodoka snapped, though her eyes lost their sharp focus for a moment. Cologne hopped over to the bed and patted the young man's shoulder. "It's not as bad as you thought... at least you're not blood related to him." "You're still his daughter and Ranma is still his chosen heir!" Genma barked, hoping his desperation wasn't showing through. "It would be extremely improper for both of you not to attend his final ceremony." "Elder, this would be a crisis situation of sorts, yes?" Genma's wife asked, still staring at him. "Oh yes, most definitely so," Cologne agreed. "Then there is nothing to discuss; the crisis takes precedent," Ranma's mother stated with finality, turning her back on the stammering man. "If you'll excuse us for a moment to pack, we can meet you elsewhere." "Yes, that's fine... I'll meet you at the subway station in thirty minutes. We'll take the southbound rail to Haneda Airport." "But that airport only handles domestic flights," Nodoka questioned. The old woman cackled and waved the concern away. "Oh, don't worry about the details... It's already arranged." "Don't I get any say in this?" Genma snapped. His son looked between the two women, then shrugged. "Nope, doesn't look like it, pop." "Well if I can't go, at least take your cousin along to watch your backs," he demanded. "And what makes you think he'd even want to go along?" Ranma snapped. "I don't..." Ryu called from below, "I just want to sleep!" "See, Pop?" "Um... but you still have to train him, right?" Genma added hopefully. "I thought you didn't want me to," Ranma replied with a sardonic grin. "Besides, I already taught him the basics. He can work out the rest of it from what I did last time we fought." "Ranma," Nodoka interceded, "Perhaps it would be better if he came along. Not that I doubt the sincerity of the Amazons, of course..." "Of course," the elder replied, with a hooded gaze. "...But you did promise to train him, not to leave him to his own devices. It would be improper to leave the job unfinished, and at any rate it would make your father more comfortable." "Not by much," Genma grumbled. "Fine, I guess I can always use a sparring partner anyway," Ranma consented. With a smirk the young man yelled out, "Hey Ryu, pack up your stuff! You can sleep on the plane!" Author's Notes: Seriously, the next chapter should not have a delay anywhere near this long. I'm actually a little embarrassed at how long I put this off while working on other various non-fanfic projects. For those of you still reading the series despite my excruciatingly slow updates, thank you! Secondly, following a philosophical debate with reviewer Obsidian-Fox (far and above the little bit in his posted review) in which he convinced me that the argument presented in the last act was flawed, I've decided to rename the previous act "Shuffling the Deck of Fate" and to update the section of the author's notes dealing with the title. No actual story content will be altered, though. If you got caught up on one of my 'Chinese-ized' names for the Amazons, please note that these versions should really only show up when a character is speaking of another in Chinese (or, in the case of Mousse's list, for attempted Takahashi-esque comedic effect). If you notice an example of this use in description, however, please let me know so I can fix that. Also, while I don't know how my long absence will affect readers, I do know that I've lost several of my pre-readers. If this chapter felt a bit 'ehh' compared to previous ones... that's probably a big part of it. To combat this problem, I ask that anyone who would like to sign up to pre-read for the next chapter please let me know via email. This isn't just a way to see the work early and get your name on the credits, however... I really do want serious help in the areas of: >catching spelling & grammar errors that I and spellchecker missed. >insuring believable characterization (not fanon based) >improving readability / clearness of description / sentence flow >feedback on plot/actions/theme/jokes/whatever else comes up Nemesis_Zero, AKA Brian #2 (reclaiming my former position... with probation) Reviews welcomed, appreciated, and sometimes even answered! Wow!