Ryouga loped easily along, his heavy pack feeling unusually light on his broad back. He was having little difficulty keeping up with Ranma and Ranko but that was not due to but in spite of his increased speed and endurance in this form, for they raced each other through the trees and he remained even with them mostly because they kept chasing each other back around him in looping circles, even though they were still in human form, using only the instinctive and ki-based skills of the Neko-ken.
He was wearing only the shorts that Ranma had redesigned for him, but his fur coat was thick enough that he felt no chill. Of course, traveling in half-wolf form, while it allowed him to both follow his nose and carry his pack, was not made any easier by the seemingly random path his companions took. If he had been trying to rely on his nose, he would have been quickly lost despite all he had gained. However, he had discovered that while in his lupine forms, his curse of misdirection did not seem to affect him, even when he was lost in thought.
Though he would still turn absent-mindedly aside from his path to walk around a tree or avoid a large stone or fallen log, he came back to the direction he had been traveling. Ranko had made some comment about sensing magnetism but Ryouga made no sense of that. After all, he was not carrying any magnets, that he knew of.
He made faster progress than he usually did, as well, for where before he would plod doggedly on, he had now been loping for several hours in an odd gait that seemed to come naturally to him now.
Ranko leapt from tree to tree fleeing before as Ranma raced after her. Ever and anon she would look to Ryouga to be sure that was still headed in the right direction. The first time that they had forgotten about him in their intense mutual focus on their race, Ranma had stopped suddenly, looking about with a dismal expression of loss.
"He's gone," Ranma had said, sadly, "Damnit! Why didn't I remember to keep an eye on him?" Ranko had been touched by how heavily Ranma had been hit by the loss of his rediscovered friend and had shared in Ranma's joy and wonder when Ryouga came loping into view several minutes into Ranma's cycle of self-recrimination, still heading in the direction they had been going.
It was not until that moment that they realized the true depth of the changes the blood-gift had given Ryouga and only after that had they taken to racing around him, both because Ranma did not want to take a second chance on losing his friend, and because before that they had thought that Ryouga's only chance at following them had been their scent, causing them to hold to a straight path.
Ranko watched Ryouga not out of her own concern for him but out of concern for Ranma, that he should not have to go through the pain of losing a friend a second time.
Racing with Ranma was certainly a pleasant way to pass the time and the miles passed swiftly, if less so than before Ryouga had joined them, but it was not something that required a great deal of thought, and so Ranko allowed her mind to look ahead, considering where they were going and what they were going to do.
In the short-term they were, according to Fey, headed for Japan, there to meet Ranma's mother. The image of Ranma's distraught face when he had thought Ryouga lost again floated in her mind. How much worse would it be if his mother refused to accept him?
In that case, he would need as much emotional support as he could get. I wonder if we could find Ukyou, she thought as she rebounded from a springy limb, catapaulting upwards and back, arching over Ranma's racing form.
It was something to think about, anyway. She glanced again at Ryouga. He was not there. She was so surprised that she missed the branch she had been aiming for. She caught herself on the trunk of the next tree and dropped to the ground. Ranma landed lightly beside her, looking around in confusion.
"I thought we were past this," he growled softly.
She ignored him and dropped to her knees, sniffing at the ground, then rising and settling into a loping gait as she cut backwards across their path, sniffing. Ranma quickly recognized her intent. A few spectacular leaps placed him on the opposite edge of the wide path they had been taking around Ryouga and he began working his way across.
They soon came upon his trail and reversing their course once more, they followed it until they found where he turned aside. As they reached it they also realized why he had changed course. They had been focused on each other, their senses filled with the scent and sight of their partner, but now that they were on the ground and near his path, they could easily smell both Ryouga's scent and the scent of food.
It was faint still, obviously coming from a distance, but Ryouga's nose was keen and he had had no distractions. They set off, following his scent and the smell of food quickly strengthened. Ranma's belly rumbled, eliciting a mewling laugh from Ranko, though she too felt her salivation increase at the wonderful smells.
As they closed in on the source they began to hear sounds. One was familiar, the swish of brush against fur and the padding of heavy feet that was Ryouga's passage. The other was less so, a low murmur that might be voices, the occasional clink that might be metal against metal, and a distant thudding, feet, probably, but not in unison or lock-step.
Ryouga looked up as Ranko swept past him on his right. He did not even realize that he had altered his course. A thump beside him brought his attention to Ranma. "We lost you," Ranma said, padding along beside him, "had to backtrack and follow your scent."
"What? I thought that wasn't going to happen anymore," groaned Ryouga, his head drooping as he realized that his mental celebration of his freedom from his curse was apparently premature.
"Heh. It's not that. Take a deep breath, Ryouga."
Ryouga breathed in and looked up in surprise. "Man, that smells good," he said, "you making camp already?"
"It's not us," laughed Ranma. "You must've picked up the scent without realizing, Ranko says. We're gonna check it out. Maybe we can buy some. Be nice to have something more filling than plain camp fare, eh?"
"Definitely," agreed Ryouga fervently. He had eaten nothing but his own cooking since leaving Japan months before.
---
"So, Shen Long," Bastet asked, as she looked around the dismal interior of the abandoned temple, "What's the occasion? It is not often these days that I visit the mortal plane, so why have you invited me here?"
Shen Long, wearing the form of a handsome man with long green hair, green eyes, wearing ornate Chinese robes, directed an acknowledging smile at the sensually beautiful woman standing beside him. "Your rules limit your involvement now," he said, turning away to look out of a stone window.
"They do not limit mine, for I am not a god. Furthermore, my research has indicated that the tool of our Enemy would, in his universe, have been opposed by those who might be considered my champions." He turned back to look at her. "Events did not progress here as they did from whence this new enemy arises. I have no champions to oppose his."
Bastet nodded but frowned. "That does not explain my presence," she said, her eyes narrowing in thought. "And I have no champions, either. Few do, these days."
Shen Long quirked an eyebrow. "Have you not?" He strode past her to look out a different window. She followed and beside him looked upon the line of people bearing food into the temple.
"A feast?"
"Indeed, and more. It is in time of hardship that men remember those they have forgotten. So it is now that these people come to beg my aid. I may not be limited in the way the gods are, but there are other duties and obligations that tie my hands. I cannot simply raise up a new champion."
"In fact I have not champions in the sense of the gods. Still, I may gift those who pass my tests. Answering the plea of these supplicants gives me an opportunity to offer that test."
He turned to face her again. "Two of yours approach. In a sense they are mine as well, but yours is the greater claim, for it is through your art that they may come to me. I ask that you allow me to test them as well when I test their companion. I invited you here that you might observe them before deciding, and perhaps, observe the testing."
Bastet cast him a questioning glance before turning back to the window and extending her senses. She had already told him that she had no champions in this day... Her ears, though human, in deference to the proximity of mortals, pricked up. There were three approaching aside from Shen Long's followers, but they were not her worshippers, yet, there was something about them. She glanced at Shen Long. "The cat-fist," she growled softly, "but that art has been banned on this plane for centuries!"
"Nevertheless," Shen Long replied, placing one hand on the window sill, "those two know it. Furthermore, though they are not were-beasts, they take on cat and dragon forms as an extension of that art."
Bastet was not paying complete attention to Shen Long's words, as she tried to decipher the power that lay on them. She turned suddenly to face him. "It is the outsider," she said sharply, "they are his! They are more than his champions, Shen Long, they are his avatars! And the third is his champion as well!"
Shen Long nodded. "But he is not of this world nor do they belong to him, though they follow him."
"They are his avatars!" Bastet protested again. "We have been warned not to interfere in this outsider's actions!"
Shen Long waved his hand, dismissing her objection. "He has no reason to protest, and if he does, then I will give way. But come, Bastet, we have legitimate excuse to take a hand here. Grant me permission to test them. They are, as you say, his avatars. They shall surely pass. Then I will gift them and maybe, in time, you may choose to do the same."
Bastet frowned, looking down and then back out the window, her brow furrowed. Could they do this? The outsider worried her. He was a God of Chaos and therefore predicting how he would react would likely be futile, but if their interference caused him to revoke his support and return to his realm, what then would befall their world? Not all of heaven was privy to the future, but it was fairly common knowledge among the class one gods. As the wife of Ptah she had naturally been in a position to learn of the impending doom shortly after it became known.
Shen Long saw her unease and moved to ward off a hasty decision. "Come, Bastet, join me at the feast laid out for us. They will come and you may observe them, as I have said, before making any decision. Do not be hasty."
Bastet breathed out slowly, trying to decide whether to risk allowing Shen Long a chance to convince her. They had been warned not to interfere with the outsider god's work, but she did not want to insult Shen Long by rejecting his invitation to dinner. Eventually she gave in and nodded. "As you will. I will come to your dinner and observe them... but I must insist that they not be permitted to see us nor know of our presence until after you have tested them."
---
Ranko sailed high over the recently trampled path, landing lightly on the crushed grasses. The smell of bruised vegetation rose from the ground but was disregarded in favor of the enticing scent emanating from further ahead. Almost as soon as her feet touched the ground she was sprinting forward, her keen senses focused on the path ahead, watching for those that had made the path.
Even as she surged forward, leaving barely a dent in the grass, a simple shoe slammed into the ground, grinding a spot of grass into the dirt, as Ranma touched down lightly behind Ryouga and held back just long enough for Ryouga to get back up to speed. He did not want to take a chance on losing him.
Raising his gaze past Ryouga to Ranko, Ranma allowed himself a moment's pleasure in the sway of her shapely rear as she sped forward, before dropping his eyes back to his regained friend. He was watching Ryouga but he was still alert enough to catch the flash of red from the corner of his eye and realize that Ranko had stopped. He did not, knowing that she could find him again, while Ryouga, once truly lost again, would have to be magically summoned, something that neither Ranma nor Ranko was truly ready to attempt yet. Summoning beings they intended to beat up anyway was rather different from casting half-learned spells on one of his best friends. He still remembered the smoke and singeing that Ryouga's pack had suffered when he summoned it. It was hard not to, considering he could see the blackened corner of it still.
When Ryouga vanished from sight a moment later, followed by the instant disappearance of the ground beneath his feet, Ranma was momentarily of the opinion that they were under some form of magical attack. The forest below him belied that impression and Ranma realized, as he began adjusting to speed his fall and catch up with Ryouga, that he had simply been traveling too fast, and had allowed his musings on summoning to take too much of his attention, to notice the impending cliff. The path of crushed grasses had veered off, but Ryouga had bulled straight on, guided by his nose and not his eyes, and Ranma had followed blithely after.
He was startled when Ranko arrowed past him just about the time he realized that he would not reach Ryouga before they hit the trees rising fast below them. She rose again almost immediately, lugging Ryouga back upward in spite of her lack of wings. Ranma stared at her in awe, wondering why it had never occurred to him to try flying even after he realized that he had wings, or could do magic. The Saotome school was all about mid-air combat, he should have... His thoughts were cut off by his thunderous impact against the ground. He had, when he had been paying attention, directed himself towards Ryouga and as a result, all unknowing, aimed straight for a several meter wide clear space between the trees. The brambles that filled that space did little to cushion his impact.
Ranma groaned softly. He rolled over to lay on his back, dirt and thorns speckling his face, and winced as a sharp pain in his side warned of a possible cracked or broken rib. Before he could muster the concentration to attempt a healing spell, he felt a pleasurable warmth flow over him, followed by a sudden but momentary flare of pain. He cocked his head back and grinned at Ranko's smiling face. "I feel stupid," he said, still grinning. His smile widened when she laughed. "Not for hitting the ground," he went on, sitting up and brushing himself off. She joined him in brushing the dirt away then began plucking the pricking thorns from his skin.
A deep rumbling purr started in Ranma's chest at the feel of Ranko's soft hands brushing lightly over his skin. It gave his voice an odd resonance as he continued. "Ever since I first learned to jump I've wanted to fly. I picked up on every trick Pop used to stay in the air longer... and I didn't even think to try out my wings or fly with a spell, until I saw you fly past me."
Ranko laughed lightly and tapped Ranma on the nose. "You'll get better at it, you know. He," and she tinged the word with disgust, "kept you from learning anything but the Art, but ever in my village the best warriors were more than mere fighters. The champion the year I left was also a skilled healer, even if she was not as good as those who were healers first and warriors second. Maybe I'll tell you about her later." She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. "But much as I'd like to strip you and find all the rest of the thorns," she teased, grinning at his blush, "we've got a smell to track." She murmured a quick spell, destroying the remaining thorns.
She frowned at the surrounding bushes as Ryouga bulled his way into the patch. She had simply flown in but he had not, apparently, cared much for the thought of leaping blindly into the middle. The bushes were of some kind of berry and some of the vines reached over their heads. Her frown was not directed at the barrier, for it was of no import to her, but at the fact that none of the bushes seemed to be catching on Ryouga's clothes.
"Lucky there aren't any thorns in here, eh?" grinned Ryouga, slipping a finger through a rent in his shirt, "There are some nasty ones around the edges."
Ranko sighed as Ranma looked around and then laughed. "Guess you better work on your targeting, Ranko," he said.
"Laugh it up," she groused.
Ryouga looked confused for a moment then he noticed the torn state of Ranma's clothes and understood what they were talking about. "Better than turning them into demons or something," he jibed at Ranma, grinning in the face of Ranma's mock glare.
"You trying to say something about me, Wolf-boy," retorted Ranma. "I think Garou was the right name for you. Hungry Wolf is so danged starving that he veered off after the first food he smelled!"
Ryouga's face fell, his expression darkening as he pondered on his new-found ability to travel a straight path having been so easily lost. Ranma glanced at Ranko and sighed as he saw the disapproval in her eyes. "Hey, don't worry about it, Ryouga, you've got us! We'll make sure you don't get lost and if you do, we'll find you. Promise!"
The stocky boy straightened his shoulders, running one clawed hand through the fur on his face and nodded. "Yeah, well, let's get going. I wanna find out what it was that pulled me off-course so bad."
He turned to the path he had tromped into the freshly made clearing, then all three martial artists paused. Ranma smirked. "Guess we made an impression. Feels like they're coming to us."
"Don't feel like fighters," mumbled Ryouga as Ranma walked past. He shook himself and followed Ranko. The three emerged from the thorny patch and immediately spotted several figures making their way towards the thicket through the trees.
They heard a cry and Ranma suddenly slapped himself in the face, groaning. "Ah, man, we forgot to get Ryouga to change back!" Ryouga glanced down at himself and then looked back up, grinning with a flash of white teeth.
Ranko grimaced and shook her head. "It was bound to happen," she said, "he can't travel otherwise."
They had not time for further discussion or recriminations. The approaching Chinese had reached them, four women and five men, none of them warriors though they all looked healthy. They held swords, all of them, but awkwardly and it was obvious that they had little skill. They were distinctly nervous.
"Demon!" one of them cried aloud, raising his sword to a defensive posture, though it wavered with his fear.
"Yao Mo Wen is trying to stop the festival!"
"Halt, Demons!" This was the first speech actually directed at the three. Ranma and Ranko stood in conciliatory postures but Ryouga had reached back and taken up his umbrella.
Ranma glanced at Ranko, but she gestured him forward with her eyes. He straightened his back and stepped forward. He wasn't sure why she wanted him to speak to them, when he was willing to admit that she was better at speaking than he was, but he was determined to make her proud of him, or, at least, not to embarrass himself in front of her too badly. After all, his Mandarin and Cantonese weren't exactly polished.
He held up his hands, palm outward, in a gesture of peace, showing that he was holding no weapons, opening his mouth to speak. His jaw dangled loosely as the nervous Chinese dove out of the way as if they expected an attack. He shook himself, speaking quickly to take advantage of their momentary disarray. "Please, we are not demons," he said. "We are merely travelers, hoping to buy food." He tried not to let his eyes widen with surprise, though he could easily picture the mischievous grin on Ranko's face. How exactly she had managed to make him fluent he wasn't sure, and in a formal manner of speech no less, but that it was her doing, he had little doubt.
The Chinese got back to their feet, watching them warily. One of them pointed at Ryouga, his hand shaking. "But he's a demon!"
"No," Ranma shook his head firmly. "He is no demon. He is... under a curse. Have you heard of Jusenkyou?" Ranma felt he was on shaky ground, as revealing Ryouga's curse could be considered dishonorable... but they were already witness to it, and was it really still a curse, since he had control over it? He hoped that Ryouga would forgive him.
All of the Chinese made signs against evil, muttering under their breath. "Why would you go to such an accursed place?" a woman asked, appearing somewhat calmer, though she still held up her sword.
"We are all martial artists," Ranma replied, glancing at Ranko to see how he was doing. His confidence grew in response to her affirming smile. "It is a training ground. We are warriors of the Dragon...," he began, but was immediately interrupted by several cries of surprise and delight.
"He has heard us!" one of the women said, "Shen Long has sent his champions."
Ranma shook his head. "Not Shen Long," he said. The fleeting impulse to allow the misunderstanding to remain fell swiftly prey to the respect and affection he held for the one he now acknowledged as his master. "We serve the Dragon Lord Fey."
They hardly seemed to hear him, caught up in their delight at having their prayers answered. They seemed to have lost all their fear as they urged the three forward, tugging on even Ryouga's furred hands and his shirt, with no concern any longer for his strange appearance.
Ranma tried several times to explain that they were not followers of Shen Long, but by his third try, still unheard or at least unheeded, it was too late, as they were being welcomed into a large encampment, introduced to one and all as the warriors sent by Shen Long to save them. Ranma directed a sheepish grin and a shrug at Ranko and Ryouga.
Ranko slipped up beside him and whispered in his ear, and he nodded. She was right, it was a martial artist's duty to help the weak and innocent, and it sounded as though these people were being plagued by a demon. Ryoga just shrugged when Ranma cast him a questioning gaze. Sharper hearing than he was used to had not allowed him to lose track of the conversation between Ranma and Ranko, even if he had understood little of the discussion with and between the Chinese. "Good practice," he said simply.
To the surprise of the three travelers, the cooking they could see going on was of little more than simple pork and rice dishes, a far cry from the savory and delectable scents that had drawn them here. Ranko was quick to understand, and pointed out that the vine-covered stone temple in whose shadow the encampment was laid out was not in fact a ruin, and that the dust piled to the edges of the entryway, with clear stone between, indicated recent usage. Though it was somewhat disappointing to learn that all of that excellent cooking was a sacrifice to the gods, none of them felt particularly inclined to take up Genma's habits. After all, they had first hand evidence that the kami were quite real, in a very immediate and present sense. Besides, they were still about to enjoy a good meal they had not had to prepare, nor lessen their stocks to produce.
After mutual introductions, they settled in with the leaders of the camp, and ate their fill as they they were told of the villagers' plight. Ranko quietly translated for Ryouga, while Ranma listened and responded appropriately.
"It was nearly three years ago that Yu Jiaohou lost his wife to a grave illness. It changed him. He was a broken man, at first, but then something gave him new life. He began studying the way of the sorcerer, though where he learned or who taught him, none can say. At first, it was to the betterment of all."
"When Ji Wei's crops began to fail, he went to Jiaohou, and he ended up with the biggest harvest in the village!" another villager interrupted excitedly, before being quickly hushed.
"It did not last, however, for his loss never left him. It is no accident, I think, that the youma that plagues us now is one of disease and suffering. Jiaohou wanted to punish it, maybe, or perhaps merely demand why it had taken his wife. Whatever the reason, he must have summoned it, but we guess he could not control it."
"I say he's behind it all," another interjected, heatedly. "He's up there still, laughing at us!"
"You don't know that! At any rate, it began with a swift fever that spread throughout the town in a day. None... none under five survived it."
Ranko gasped, losing the thread of her translation. The tragedy, judging by the moist eyes of all about them, was still near and raw, in spite of their storyteller's next words.
"That was nearly a year ago, now. A blight soon followed, a black growth on the rice. We barely managed to recover enough to pay our taxes. The few who tried to eat the blackened rice began telling strange stories about ghosts and demons all about. They accused many of sorcery. One young man killed himself, in a most horrific way." Indeed, several of the other Chinese seemed to take on a green tinge. None of the travelers felt like asking for more clarification on exactly what that villager had done.
"Finally we sent a small group to a seer some of us had heard stories of, though few expected her to still be alive, and fewer still believed she could truly help us. What else could we do? While they were gone, things continued to get worse. Animals started disappearing, then later they would be found in the street in the morning, or hanging from a house, mutilated and covered in open sores. Finally they returned, and on the seer's advice, we began searching for this temple. When we finally found it, we prepared all the food we had left, keeping only enough rice and pork to live on for five days, as the seer instructed."
From the dark looks some of the listeners were casting at each other, Ranko concluded that this had been far from a unanimous decision. There seemed to be many who were unwilling to put all their faith in something so uncertain.
"Bringing it here, we laid out a vast feast for Shen Long, and laid our case before him."
The spokesman looked at the other Chinese gathered around, then turned to face Ranma, taking a deep breath. "Will you help us, Warriors of the Dragon?"