Unexpected Meetings


The three friends waited through a slow morning, being shown about the
training complex, and then some of the town itself, as Master Po told
them stories.

He explained the history of the dojo, the town itself, and told many
stoies about the people that lived in the area, and the shopkeepers and
how they had built their trade, or inherited it, or purchased it from
another. He told them of the shifting population, as the young and able
left seeking better work in the larger cities, leaving a population that
was a mix of the young and old, with a considerable gap in between.

He admitted that he himself had initially left the town of his birth to
train in one of the larger schools, only returning after his injury cut
short his rising career. He could no longer aspire to greatness, he
explained, but he could aid the youth of his village.

"Those who follow the traditions of our art have more self-discipline,
and are less likely to fall to depression when troubles befall them," he
explained. Ranma, having lived much of his life on the road, with most
of his city time being in the earlier years of his training trip, was
startled and dismayed to hear how common suicide had become in China's
large cities.

"It is especially hard for the young these days," Master Po continued,
"as they bear the weight of the hope for the future for their whole
family." No longer were there many children in Chinese families, so that
if one failed in life, another might succeed. Now to fail was to end a
family line, a crushing weight that could easily magnify a seemingly
minor failing into an emotional disaster.

The discipline and training of the martial arts helped his students bear
up under the weight of their family's expectations, Master Po felt.

Still, it was common for individuals to feel that they had only the one
chance to succeed, and that to return home was a disgrace, especially
since it often took considerable savings to fund an attempt at life in
one of the big cities.

"Many of the members of the gang that has started robbing carts and
travelers on the road here, we fear, are children of families here.
This makes the townsfolk reluctant to turn them in to the police, and
leaves them vulnerable. To fight back might be to destroy your or
another family's hope for a future. So our position is difficult. No-one
has been identified clearly, and to make an accusation without certainty
would generate a horrible rift."

Ranma, Ranko, and Ryouga stared at each other in consternation. That
made things difficult indeed. Beating up such bandits would probably not
be hard at all, yet in doing so, they might steal the hope of a village.
Yet to do nothing would be to leave all of the families of the village
open to harm and loss.

Master Po nodded and sighed as he saw the understanding on the faces of
his young visitors. Their righteous certainty that they could accomplish
a good deed here had taken a heavy blow, and they clearly now
understood the dilemma the townsfolk faced.

Yet they were outsiders, and as such, they might be able to make the
hard decision that had so far left his peers in turmoil. 

"It is easier in Western shows," Master Po commented, "where the villain
wears black, and the hero has a white hat. In China, though the tiger
and the dragon strive against one another, yet both have their place."

Ranma nodded, even as Master Po slowed to a halt, back at the rooms he
had given them for the night. He bowed to them then. "I shall leave you
to rest," he said, "when you hear the bell, come to the courtyard and we
shall share a meal."

---

Consciousness was slow to return for Ukyou, and when it did, it came
with a pounding headache and the conflicting feelings of an inner chill
that had her shivering, and an outer warmth that reminded her of lying
in bed on a cold morning, not wanting to leave the safety of the covers.

Though she became aware that she was awake, she found it exceedingly
difficult to open her eyes. Fleeting images danced before her eyes of
her apartment, her father admonishing her, sparring with Ranma as a
child years before, watching Nodoka and trying to reconcile her with
Ukyou's expectations of her.

Several times she struggled to her feet, only for a twinge of pain to
shatter the dream as she found herself again lying unmoving on her back,
her eyes stubbornly closed.

She became suddenly aware of a great weight on her chest, as though she
was being suffocated, and thrashed desperately, trying to free herself,
her panic rising ever greater when she realized that no matter how she
tried to get her limbs to respond, no matter how clearly she saw what
she wanted to do, she had still not moved an inch.

She saw the face of her beloved again, as he sat beside her, only to
realize again that it was not his face, but that of the mysterious Fey
Ranma. He leaned toward her, and placed his hand on her head, only it
was not a man's hand, but a soft woman's hand, and his face had been
replaced by a woman's face framed by coppery red hair. Again she tried
to speak, to reach up and touch the woman's hand, to explain that she
could not breathe, that something was sitting on her and keeping her
from taking a full breath, but she could say nothing.

A bright light sprang up behind the woman, bathing them both in light,
and she heard a distant voice speaking, soft and feminine but
incomprehensible, and she suddenly realized that her eyes were still
closed.

There was a sudden jolting, as if the room had just been struck with an
earthquake, and her eyes sprang open. She bolted upright, tingles of
gooseflesh rising on her arms as the room faded suddenly into a
darkness. Ukyou sobbed with relief when she realized that she could move
after all.

Before she had more than a few moments to consider the unfamiliar but
traditional room in which she was lying on a futon, the wall panel that
served as a door was suddenly drawn aside.

---

They had enjoyed their outdoor meal with Master Po, and now the three
were back in the forest. They were much more lightly laden, having
stowed most of their gear in the rooms they had been given, and as
soon as they had attained the full shielding cover of the trees,
Ryouga had swelled into his lupine form, grateful to once more be able
to find his own way.

They did not speak about what they were going to do, all three of them
were troubled and uncertain, and happy to put off having to make a
decision until they had found these bandits. Ranma and Ranko were
trying to use their senses without actually going into Neko-form, but
they were nonetheless following Ryouga's lead.

It was an iffy proposition, gauging which of them had the better sense
of smell, but Ranma and Ranko had barely needed a glance to agree to
allow Ryouga this opportunity to use his new-found ability, to feel
useful and contribute something of significance. They were not really
anticipating much difficulty when they found the bandits, and had not
seen any point in attempting to pretend weakness, or try to draw them
into attacking. If they were attacked, they might be forced to
retaliate more strongly, while if they could find the bandits' hideout
and stay out of sight, they might have a chance of resolving matters
without having to deal with the reactions of the villagers if they
were forced to injure or kill one of their sons.

Ryouga found sorting out the various scents an interesting challenge,
but it did not actually take him very long before he picked up the
sweaty smell of unwashed men, and he was able to guide them fairly
quickly to the highest concentration of the smell. Soon the three were
back in the trees, looking down on a disorganized camp.

It was obvious that these were the bandits, and equally obvious that
they were not a skilled band. There was no real sign of discipline, as
the young men rough-housed, smoked, and drank. They did not see any
great supply of food or stolen goods, and as Ryouga suggested after
they withdrew to discuss, it rather looked like whatever money the
young men were extorting from passersby was being spent in some nearby
town on the booze and tobacco they were enjoying.

"They just want to be lazy." Ryouga was disgusted with this attitude,
it was clear; unsurprising from someone who had spent most of his life
training hard, and living frugally. "They found a way to get money and
be able to live it up on someone else's dime and they jumped at it."

"Yeah," Ranma agreed, "but as much as I want to just thrash them, we
aren't going to be sticking around to keep them on the straight and
narrow, so how do we get them to go straight without making their
families unhappy?"

They sat, frowning in thought for a while, one or another occasionally
tossing out an idea only for the others to knock it down, until Ranko
found the answer.

"We make the forest a scary enough place to be that they would prefer
the safety of the village again!"

This answer had instant appeal to the two young men. Scaring the
foolishness out of the boys was a satisfying thought, much like
beating them up, but without the risk of the villagers being angry for
the damage done.

"So, what do we use?"

Ranko grinned. "Well, tigers and wolves would be the obvious thing,
but they've been out here a while and not seen animals, so if they see
them for a bit and then don't, they may decide they've moved on. I say
we give them a bad ghost story, the kind that grows in the retelling."

"You just want a chance to use your illusions," Ranma accused
jokingly, "but it makes some sense."

"We can still use wolf-howls and a tiger's roar in the mix."

"You can do illusions, too," Ryouga pointed out to Ranma.

"Yeah, I know, I'm just teasing. So, let's get our story-line put
together."

---

Nodoka lowered herself gracefully until she was sitting seiza next to
the still unconscious and feverish young woman, and carefully lifted
off the cooling cloth from her forehead, replacing it with a fresh
one, then straightened and considered her charge.

Nodoka had struggled to bring in the young person she found on the
street just outside her house, and had been startled when on a closer
examination she had discovered it was a young woman dressed up as a
young man. She had entertained a momentary hope that it might be her
son, out on the street in the dim light of a nearby street lamp, but
the indoor lighting soon showed that there was no real resemblance.

She had seen right away, of course, that it had been a loose bit of
her own fencing that had injured the poor child, and known that it was
her responsibility to care for the girl, so she had done the best she
could to make her comfortable. She had dragged her in to the guest
room's bed, then cleaned her head wound and bandaged it.

She had not been sure what else to do, knowing that she did not have
enough in her meagre funds to cover paying for an ambulance to bring
the girl to a hospital, much less to pay for hospital care. She did
not know a local doctor she could convince to make a house call,
either, so she had just done the best she could to care for the girl
on her own.

She was hopeful that the girl would wake quickly and be able to call
her family, and when instead the girl had taken a fever and spent a
fitful night, Nodoka had felt responsible. She had gone back out
afterward, into the rain, and brought in the strange massive spatula
that had been lying near the girl, but she had not thought to change
the girl's clothing. She had already moved the girl inside, so there
was no excuse of avoiding moving her, she had just not considered it.

Once the fever had taken hold, she had recognized her error, though,
and stripped the girl, finding after unwrapping her breast bindings
that she was a healthy young woman, and then rubbed her down with
towels before covering her warmly, and laying a cloth on her forehead
that had been soaked in cool water.

She had made a hot ginger tea in case the child had awoken, and it sat
now beside her scenting the air as she contemplated the girl. In
disrobing her, Nodoka had found a number of smaller spatulas with
surprisingly sharp edges. This, together with the larger spatula and
the firm tone of the girl's muscles told her the young woman was a
martial artist, probably from one of the traditions that claimed to
derive from the peasant class, what gaijin might call ninja. In a time
when weapons were allowed only to the higher classes, the samurai,
peasants had adapted tools they were permitted to have for self
defense against bandits.

Whether historically accurate or not, Nodoka knew that some martial
arts masters, and especially some families, had taken to creating
distinct styles that were modeled on this pattern, using tea
implements as weapons, or building a style around wielding gardening
tools, concealing blades in sandals, and other such things. She
herself had training as a kendoka, a wielder of the traditional
weapons of the samurai, but she was no master, and was not inclined to
look down on the child for following a school that had built their
style up around what she presumed were cooking implements.

Still, while the child was clearly not her son, she was close to the
same age, she thought, and might not be a bad match. Nice hips for
childbearing, a healthy chest for suckling, and a fine toned body to
tempt a martial artist. That as a martial artist herself she would
obviously understand Ranma's dedication to his art and support him
would be even better. 

She sat stoicly for nearly an hour, waiting and hoping that the child
would awaken, while tears dripped unnoticed down her face from the
reminder of her son, her man among men, and the ache in her heart from
not having seen him, not having been there as he grew up. Finally
conceding that the girl was not going to awaken from the smell of the
tea, which had now gone quite cold, Nodoka sighed and lifted herself
smoothly up, catching the tea tray in one hand as she rose, easily
maintaining its balance, and left the room to return to her own,
promising to look in on the girl when she awoke.

She had arisen the next morning, and begun to prepare more of the
ginger tea, along with a simple, easy to digest rice porridge, when
sound from the other room drew her attention. She hurried over and
slid the shogi, the sliding wall panel aside. The girl was sitting up,
drenched in sweat, wild-eyed, bare from the waist up, the cooling
cloth, sheet, and cover that Nodoka had placed on her fallen to her
lap.

"Nodoka?!" the girl shouted, startled, then held her hand to her head
as if in pain. Nodoka hurried into the room and dropped into seiza
beside her, grabbing the cooling cloth and wiping away the sweat on
her brow while puzzling over how the girl could have known her name.

"Your fever has broken." Nodoka spoke softly, gently, "but you were
struck on the head by a falling lantern. Please don't try to get up
yet. You may get dizzy, and a fall might make things worse. Please,
stay here, and I will bring you some tea and porridge."

When the girl nodded, Nodoka set the cloth aside, and rose, noticing
as she left that the child had drawn up the sheet and tucked it about
her to provide some modesty. She hurried into the kitchen, and
checking the porridge, decided it was not quite cooked yet. Instead
she took up the bubbling water pot and poured a bit of the boiling
water into the cup that held the sugar and freshly grated ginger, then
set the cup on a tray and brought it to the girl.

"The porridge will be ready in about three minutes. Please try to
drink some of the tea, if you can."

She returned to the kitchen and finished cooking the porridge, dicing
in a bit of boiled egg, and doled it out into two bowls. Setting them
out on another tray with spoons, she re-entered the girl's room and
sat beside her, setting the tray to stand between them. When the girl
set down the cup of hot tea, she held out the bowl and spoon to her.
The girl flushed when reaching out let the sheet slip to expose one
breast, and quickly passed the bowl to her other hand and tucked it
back in, then began to eat the porridge, holding the bowl close to her
face and spooning it out in quick, small bites.

Nodoka ate her porridge in silence, enjoying the unusual presence of
company, even in so strange a situation, after such a long time of
loneliness. It felt good to have company in her house again. When she
set her bowl down, she saw that the child was finished as well, and
she took the bowl from her as well, setting them both on the tray.

"My name is Saotome Nodoka," she offered, bowing slightly.

The girl was quick to bow back to her, more deeply, though she swayed
when she did, and quickly straightened, the act having clearly caused
a bit of dizziness. "My name is Kuonji Ukyou," she responded, "please
forgive my intrusion."

"Oh, no, no, it is I who must apologize. The stone lantern that hit
you was from my wall, with my husband's long absence, I'm afraid I did
not notice it had shifted. It must have been loosening for some time,
and the rain and wind last night set it free at just the wrong time.
Please forgive my failure." Nodoka bowed low, touching her head to the
futon for a moment. "Please accept my hospitality in recompense."

She could only hope that as a martial artist, the child would not
demand satisfaction or declare a feud, or worse, take her to the
courts.

"No, it was the right time," Ukyou sighed, feeling her head with her
right hand, running her fingers gingerly over the tender bump where
she had been struck.

Nodoka looked at her, puzzled. "I was meant to meet with you anyway,
Nodoka-dono. I thought to put it off until my restaurant was open, but
of course, that would have only led to one delay after another.
Restaurants are demanding businesses, and clearly, the kami knew this
and said, No, you shall meet her today."

Ukyou reached out, ignoring that the sheet fell again, and grasped
Nodoka's hand. "Thank you for caring for me." Tears glimmered at the
edges of her eyes as her voice grew softer. "I would have been happy
to call you mother."

Nodoka stared at her in confusion. "Call me mother?"

"I was supposed to be Ran-chan's fiancee," Ukyou began, and Nodoka was
suddenly right in front of her, leaning in, grasping both her hands in
her own.

"You know Ranma? You've seen my son?"

"Please," Ukyou said, shivering as her head swam from the sudden
motion and the clatter of the bowls and spoons being sent flying from
Nodoka's sudden movement, "calm down, Nodoka-dono. I knew him, many
years ago. I will tell you all I can, I promise you."

"You said would have been!" Nodoka was desperate. "Please, please
don't tell me my son is dead?!"

"No! Oh, kami, no. But they left, and it has been many years since I
saw them." She was tempted to mention Genma taking them away with
Ranma riding on her dowry, her father's yattai, the food-cart, but
knew that she would need to move slowly on revealing Genma's perfidy,
lest she force Nodoka to defend him.

Nodoka relaxed a little, then realizing what she had done, released
her hands and embraced the girl instead. "If you are his fiancee, then
you are my daughter, Ukyou-chan," she promised, wrapping her arms
around her. "But you must tell me all about my little Ranma-chan."

"I will," Ukyou mumbled into Nodoka's shoulder, feeling a sudden wave
of exhaustion flowing over her as she slumped into the hug, no longer
having to hold herself upright. When Nodoka released her, she sank
back to lie against the pillow, and smiled gratefully when Nodoka
again tucked her in.

"Lie here still a while, and rest," Nodoka said softly, her heart warm
in her chest at the thought of having a daughter, of having stories of
her son. She gathered up Ukyou's discarded clothing from the night
before, and took it away to wash it. If the child was setting up her
own restaurant, she would probably need to get back to it soon, so it
would be best if her clothing was ready for her. As a martial artist,
she expected the child would recover quickly now that her fever had
broken.

---

It started with the afternoon light in the forest slowly dimming to
near twilight levels. It was a gradual thing, and escaped notice for a
few minutes as the darkness deepened, then first one and then another
of the young men noticed. As soon as one of them began to say
something about it, a deathly silence fell. The sounds of the forest
around them fell away, the more distant sounds of the village vanished.

Cold white light entered the clearing, and one of the young men looked
up. His mouth fell open, eyes wide, his cigarette dropped unnoticed to
the ground. "Full moon?" 

One of the others tapped his wristwatch nervously, staring at the
numbers in the pale light. "Can't be, it's just past midday!"

A howl sounded in the distant, long and wavering, and they leapt to
their feet. White mist drifted low through the trees, rolling into the
clearing and glowing in the light of the moon. As the moonlight
brightened, one of the young men pointed at the nearest tree. "The
leaves," he hissed.

There were no leaves, the trees around them stood stark and bare as
mid-winter. Movement caught the eye, something flitting between the
trees, barely seen. "There's something out there!"

Knives and clubs were brought out as they stared nervously about. The
young man who had commented on the moon protested again. "It can't be
the full moon. It's not for another week." A howl answered him, closer
now, then an answering howl a little further away.

"Not right, this is not right. There aren't any wolves in these woods."

"Zhong Kui guard us," one muttered, invoking a legendary ghost hunter.
"Over there!" He pointed in alarm, as red eyes appeared at the edge of
the clearing, dimly seen through the mist.

An owl barked overhead, with the swoosh of wings, a white shadow
passing over. Then a rope could be heard, creaking, as if something
was swaying. Several of the men grabbed up their belongings. "Let's
get out of here before the wolves get here."

They turned as one to the path leading out of the clearing, and as
they did, a tiger coughed. They broke and ran, each determined to not
the be the last man out of the clearing. Bushes shook behind them, and
branches snapped, something large moving through the undergrowth as
they pushed each other, each striving to be in front.

Bursting forth from the forest onto the road they had so often
troubled, screams erupted as they beheld a lone tree on the far side,
where no tree had been before, and from its branches, swaying in the
wind, ropes creaking now loudly, now softly, dead bodies, hanged by
the neck, eyes bulging, tongues hanging out, rotten flesh peeling away
glimpsed through tattered rags, one body for each of the young man,
and they turned and fled crying aloud towards the village.

As they vanished down the road, the illusions fell away, and the they
entered the sunshine and slowed, but looking back, they saw the tree
still standing there in the clear light of day, ropes dangling empty
from branches, nooses neatly tied, waiting, and their flight and wails
resumed.

"Growing the tree was a good touch," Ranma acknowledged. "If they had
looked back and it had all been gone, they might have taken it for
hysteria, and gone back. But now they will see this tree every time
they come this way, and it will stay fresh. And everyone else will be
commenting about the tree that grew from nowhere, full of nooses, so
they won't escape hearing about it, either."

"They may come and cut it down, though."

"True, Ryoga-kun, but I doubt they'll have the fortitude, but if they
do, they do. We can't be sure of everything, but hey, they have gone
running to their village, so whatever story they told about where they
were going will be seen to be a lie. If the village cannot take some
responsibility, then they will be taken advantage of again. But we
gave them a chance." Ranko grinned. "Besides, after we tell the story
to Master Po, he will probably come up with some way to keep it in
their minds." She took up Ryouga's lead rope as he shrank back into
his human form.