Three days later, as they were deep in their sparring, the two cats became aware of a third presence, and as one, they ceased their playfighting, and turned to face it warily.
Both found they had to fight the urge, coming so strongly from their cat-selves, to throw aside caution and care, and run to the figure and lavish it with affection, an urge that they found harder to resist when it stepped from the shadows, revealing itself as Fey, the one who had freed them, the one they were pledged to.
Difficult as it was, it became entirely impossible when he suddenly swelled, growing to just over ten feet, and becoming unmistakeably feline. They darted down, and rubbed themselves against his sides, purring wildly.
He chuckled softly and sank easily to sit between them. Moments later he had two affectionate cats competing to place their heads in his lap and receive his caresses.
He laughed lightly and gently petted his children and softly spoke to them.
"I've been watching you two. You've done well, very well indeed, and you are ready now for the next step." He sighed inwardly. He had considered just showing Ranma how to achieve the next stage of the Neko-ken, by making the transition as he had just done in front of them, but he was afraid it would not be enough.
He needed more, he needed to completely remove the inevitable plateau they would reach in their abilities. They needed to be able to increase in power indefinitely, to match what was coming, and they needed to be able to give that ability to their team members.
"As you know, there is a plateau that all people reach eventually. You can only progress so far, no matter how hard you try." Ranma shuddered at the thought, but nodded unhappily. He hated the thought of hitting that limit, and being unable to progress further, but he knew it existed.
"That, unfortunately, cannot stand. No human has a plateau high enough for what is coming, which is why the future is so dark." His darling cats mewled in protest. Surely he had not misled them? He had implied they could change what was coming.
"That is why I must take you past it. I . . . I have to ask you something now, and it is with a heavy heart that I ask it." He dropped the Neko-ken, falling back to his human form. "Go, drop the Neko-ken, and return," he requested.
They smirked as they looked at each other, and as one, they dropped the Neko-ken. Obviously, he had not been watching them closely enough, or he would have seen that they had managed to synchronize that, and no longer needed to be alone to drop the Neko-ken.
"Well, done," he said warmly, raising his hands, allowing them to sit up and face him, careful not to notice Ranma's flush of embarrassment at his behavior. "Now I must ask you. I made you promise, Ranma, to fight for me. I have not yet asked this of you, Ranko. Ranma, I release you from your promise." He silenced Ranma's attempted objections with a raised hand. "For I must ask again, and I want nothing to make this choice for you. You, and you alone, must make this choice." He sighed again, audibly this time.
"I have not yet told you all about who I am. Ranma, Ranko . . . I . . . am a god, a deity." He looked deeply into their eyes in turn, allowing them to see his sincerity. "I must ask this of you, but please believe, I do not ask this lightly, nor would I place this burden on you if it were permitted for me to intervene more directly. I need my warriors to be able to go beyond the limitations of humanity, to continue progressing in power and skill as long as they live, that they may continue to defend this world against what is coming, and what will follow."
"For the darkness that is coming is but the first of many; if you defeat it, there are things in the depths of space that will feel the power you use, and come to this world, each bringing their own form of darkness or light. And some will seek to conquer or destroy the world, and there must be those who will stand to protect it. I cannot remain here forever, and were I to defend this world, the things that would be awakened by the feel of my power would be even farther beyond the ability of this world to survive than the coming darkness is."
"So, I ask that you, of your own free will, consent to become my avatars, immortal channels for my power in this world." He held up a hand to forestall a hasty reaction. "Please, do not act in haste. Understand, if you accept this, it will mean that you will live forever. You will not die until I return and release you. You will live forever, and never know peace, for it will be your task for all time to defend this world, to defend these people, even as you are forced to watch those you love grow old and die, unable to defend them against death and time. It is not an easy thing I ask of you, and it is more a curse than a blessing."
"Still, it has its perks . . . I am a powerful god, and less bound by the rules than some. I know of people here already, set here to defend this world, who will live for all time. They are not enough to defend against the coming darkness, but if you save the world, they shall live in it with you, so that not all that you know will wither and die."
"I will leave you for two hours. You may discuss this together, or think on it alone. I will expect an answer when I return, but please, understand, I will not think the less of you if you choose against, nor will you be condemning the world to darkness, for I shall then seek out other champions, and I will still take you, together, to your mother Ranma. This is a terrible decision for any to make, do not let fear make it for you, in either direction."
With that, he vanished from their sight. He reappeared in the living room of an apartment, and looked about himself. He reached out with his senses, and finding Setsuna still in her bedroom, he walked to it, and eased the door open. When he sat in the chair by her bedside, he was pleased to see color returning to her face. He leaned over the bed, and tapped her forehead, and her eyes flew open.
Her face went from startlement, to anger, to relief, to joy, and she threw her arms around him, her emotionless mien destroyed by weeks of tears at the Gates of Time. "Fey-sama, you came back!"
He sighed heavily, and she looked up at him in surprise. "What's wrong, Fey-sama? Please, the future isn't dark again, is it?"
"The future is not yet written," Fey said firmly. "If you don't mind, I would like to talk to you. I find I have need of counsel."
Setsuna was a bit startled at the thought that a kami would need her advice, but sat up, basking in the warmth of his presence, the knowledge that she hadn't dreamed the whole thing. He really was here, he really had comforted her in her extremity of despair. Now she would be here for him. Looking at his face, she realized that he looked deeply troubled.
"I am not old enough to be doing this to them," he said, sighing deeply.
"What? What is it you are doing?"
"I . . . to give my chosen the power to defeat that which is coming, and that which will follow, I was only able to find one way. I will have to do to them what was done to you and yours. I will have to bestow on them the curse of immortality. Such a heavy burden, but only thus can I be certain that their success would not be in vain. I have done all I could to warn them of the dangers, and to ensure that they make this decision, and don't allow their fear to make it, yet I cannot help but feel that in time they will come to hate me for this."
Setsuna considered this, remembering how strongly her Princess had objected to being thrust into the role. She had wanted nothing more than to live a normal life as a normal girl, once she had learned what it meant to be a magical girl, fighting to save the world.
"I don't think that they will, Fey-sama. Usagi, my Princess, objected, once she became Sailor Moon, to the lack of a choice, and yet even she has come to accept it. Your children are being given a choice, and that will make the difference."
"You say she has come to accept it, yet she has not lived even long enough to see her parents grow old and die. They may make the choice of their own free will, but will it truly matter when they watch his mother age and die?"
"Fey-sama, all of us have to watch our parents grow old and die before us, unless they die of other causes, or we go before them. The true pain is to come to love someone, and marry them, and watch them grow old and die while you remain young and hale. Give your children the ability to grant their mates a life as long as theirs, and you will go far to appeasing them."
"That makes sense, I suppose. I'm expecting at the moment that they will find that love in each other. I'm fairly certain that is her goal, though whether she'll achieve it in spite of his obliviousness I don't know."
"The hardest thing for me, Fey-sama, was the inability to take a break. What if you were to give to them the ability to pass their powers on to another, at least for a time? A way to allow someone to stand in for them, to give them the occasional vacation?"
Fey nodded, thinking of the different ways he could accomplish such a feat. Actually, it made sense in two different ways. If they could pass on to another the ability to develop skill and power without limit, they could build a team that would grow with them. That would make them more effective, but wouldn't give them the ability to take vacations. As for that, well, he could do as Setsuna suggested, or he could provide a way that they could step outside of the timestream, vacation on another world, and return to the moment they left. Unbroken vigilance from this world's perspective, yet as much time off as they needed to stay healthy and alert.
He thanked her for her time, noting as he rose that the crystal rose had been placed in a vase on her bedside table, and he bid her goodbye, vanishing a moment later.
---
Ranma and Ranko stared at each other in silence. Ranko thought of the past several days, most of which had been spent in the Neko-ken. Ranma had become steadily more demonstrative and affectionate, not running away when she rubbed up against him, and occasionally clumsily returning her kisses.
Still, she was uncertain whether she was really breaking through the barriers his father had made. Was she really getting through to Ranma, or was it just his cat spirit that was becoming enamored of her?
She still held out hope, but did she want to spend eternity with him, if he chose someone else? She did not think immortality would be unbearable if she had him, after all, she had been basically immortal in the pool. True, it had not been pleasant, but she had survived, and hadn't gone insane. Everyone else she had known was already dead, so she wouldn't have to watch them die, and Ranma would be with her. The crux was that she didn't think she could stand to work with him forever, knowing he loved someone else, watching him pine for them after they died, wishing she was the one he loved. Her decision would be easy if she just knew how he felt, but would he be able to tell her?
Ranma shifted, looking at his hands. He thought of his mother, though he could not picture her. She was really all he had now, other than his father, and she would grow old and die no matter whether he did or no.
He considered Fey, his other-self, in some strange way he didn't understand. The influence of the cat had lead Ranma to seek affection from Fey, and instead of laughing at him, calling him a weak girl, or just beating him, as his father would have done, Fey had complied, responding with affection and comfort, and not commenting on Ranma's discomfort after they all dropped the Neko-ken.
Still, surprising as it had been to discover that Fey was willing to offer emotional comfort, something Ranma had had far too little of in his life, it was Ranko to whom thoughts of affection inevitably led him.
He looked up at Ranko, and sighed inwardly. He understood why his father had kept him away from girls now. She was taking steadily more of his thought, both waking and while asleep. He dreamed of her every night now, and when he fought, sparred, and performed his katas, he found himself picturing how she would perform the same move, or how she would counter it.
She was his equal, she knew everything about the art that he did. She was not as quick to improvise and respond with new moves . . . his tactical skills in battle were still unmatched, but she knew magic, and could teach it to him.
She didn't judge him, or see everything as his fault, as his father had said girls did. Neither had she pressed him harder or faster than he was willing to go. Indeed, after some of the glimpses he'd gotten, he found himself dreaming of her showing him more, and wondering what it would be like.
Without his father's influence, and without the pressure of being chased, his interest had grown slowly but surely, and she had subtly encouraged its growth.
Now he found that his vision of the future centered around her. Would she be there with him? Would she want to stay with him? Did she really like him, or was she following him just because he'd been the one to save her, to choose her life over his father, and the life he'd known?
How do you ask a girl, he wondered, if she likes you? How do you tell her you like her?
"Ranko," he said, hesitantly, "I . . . do you . . . ," he stammered, and blushed, looking down. Damnit all, Oyagi, why'd you never teach me how to talk to girls?
"Are you going to take his offer?" Ranko asked gently, trying to guide him into saying whatever it was he was trying to get out.
"I . . . ," Ranma paused, looking scared, and ready to bolt, "will you . . . do you . . ." He huffed and sat back, frustrated, then turned, and looked away, so that he didn't have to see her. He focused, trying to clear the confusion out of his mind.
Maybe he was going about it the wrong way. He was trying to ask her how she felt, but he couldn't figure how to word it right. Maybe he should just say how he felt, and hope and pray she felt the same. He sent a quick prayer to the kami, not even realizing the incongruity of praying to the gods when he was trying to come up with an answer to give to a kami in the first place.
"I . . . I think I want to, Ranko, but . . . but only if you're with me," he said in a rush, and then blushed heavily, looking down, and huddling in on himself. Man among men, he told himself, you're not afraid, you're not afraid of nothing. But he was, he was terrified of her answer, and he fought to keep tears from his eyes as his heart clenched in his chest.
Ranko drew in a sharp breath in surprise. She wasn't expecting anything that direct from him, not for a long time yet. She blessed Fey silently for getting him away from his father, and scooted forward, putting a hand on his shoulder.
He jerked at her touch, breathing hard, feeling his guts tying themselves in knots when she didn't speak, and slowly, he turned his face to look at her, fighting to keep from crying. As soon as he faced her, she cupped his face in her small hands, and kissed him hard. His eyes popped wide, and he stiffened, then relaxed as his gut unknotted, and his heart raced even faster.
She pulled back, and he looked at her, eyes wide. "Does that . . . does that mean you like me?" he asked, nervously, and she collapsed in laughter, falling across his lap.
"Yes," she gasped out between laughs, "yes, it does," she said, trying to stop laughing, afraid that he'd take her laughter the wrong way. "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you," she said, clutching at him to steady herself. She sobered quickly. "I hate your father," she said flatly, "for what he did to you, that you wouldn't even know what a kiss means. I . . . I think I love you, Ranma. I know I want you. Do . . . do you like me?"
"Yeah," he said softly, staring down at her bright blue eyes, her delicate face framed by her flaming red hair, "yeah, I like you a lot. I . . . now I know why my dad kept me away from girls," he continued, looking up, and Ranko sat up, staring at him fearfully.
"What do you mean?" she asked, afraid that he was going to say that his father was right, and leave her.
He looked at her, and grinned, "'Cause he says a martial artist shouldn't think of anything but the art, but I can't stop thinking of you."
Ranko gasped in delight and grabbed him tightly, kissing him and crushing him against her.
Ranko didn't push him to go any further. Instead, she told him to spread his legs, then she sat between them, facing away from him, and leaned back against his strong chest. After a minute of this, he got up and repositioned himself with his back against a tree, and she resumed her place.
"You know, Ranma," she said, "he asked both of us, but even if we get really strong, what's going to happen if attacks occur far apart? I think he's probably picking his leaders right now. I think he's going to be adding more fighters later on."
"That makes sense," Ranma agreed. "Two people . . . you know, though, he's never said what the coming darkness is. It could just be one or two real strong monsters."
"Yeah, but remember, he said there would be more after that. And even if this darkness is just one, who's to say the next one will be?"
"Oh . . . right. Sounds like we should plan on finding some support even if he hasn't planned for it, huh?"
"I don't know," Ranko protested. "I trust him. If he doesn't want us to, he'll have a good reason for it, I'm sure. I can't think what it would be, which is why I think he must be planning for more."
"I wonder if they'll all be his avatars?"
Ranko frowned, her eyebrows coming together as her forehead crinkled cutely. "I thought gods only had one avatar, but he offered it to both of us . . . but if an avatar gets its power from a god, then wouldn't a whole bunch of avatars be weaker? You know, each has access to less of the god's power? I mean, his power can't be infinite, can it?"
"Who knows . . . he is a god . . . it might be."
"Well . . . hmm . . . what about your mother?," Ranko asked, shifting topics, "will . . . do you think she'll accept me?"
"Heh, sorry, Ranko, I don't even know if she'll accept me. I can't even really remember her," Ranma replied, sighing deeply as he tried once again, and failed, to picture his mother.
"Sorry," said Ranko softly, mentally berating herself for dampening his mood. "I'm sure she will."
A silence fell, uncomfortable at first, but as it continued, they both relaxed. The tension eased, as they realized they had made their decision, taken their risk, and been rewarded. Ranma shifted forward, resting his chin on Ranko's head, enjoying the warmth of her body against his.
It had been a very long time since he'd been offered love or acceptance, or even simple friendship, and now he had all three, as well as a sparring partner that he could go all out against.
Ranko smiled when she felt his chin, and reaching back, grabbed his hands, and pulled them to lie on her thighs, covering them with her own hands. He turned his hands over, clasping her delicate hands in his larger, stronger ones. She could hardly imagine being happier. He had reached out to her, without the influence of the cat, and in spite of his own fear, in spite of his father's training, he had made the first move, he had opened himself up, and risked pain to tell her of his love. She sighed happily.
They were still sitting there when Fey reappeared, and neither noticed his approach, having fallen asleep. Fey was startled at their appearance. Ranko's hands were still clasped in Ranma's. From the stories and history he'd learned from Nabiki, he would have expected it would take far longer before Ranma would be able to offer or accept physical affection.
I wonder if it's not having the curse that made the difference, Fey mused. Or it might be the absence of the constant pressure from his father. I suppose having a girl kiss him as the prelude to a series of murder attempts, followed by a girl offering friendship as the prelude to a series of beatings might be sufficient to have created unpleasant associations for physical affection in him.
He smiled as he looked down at the pair, then a disturbing thought occurred to him. They were heading for Ranma's mother's home. What if she had also made engagements for her son over the years? Or what if she was aware of the promise Soun and Genma had made, and insisted it be upheld? His brow furrowed, as he pondered what effect these things might have on Ranma.
It does not matter. I could try and force order onto the situation. I could go to Nodoka before her son arrives, and prepare her, force her to sign the same sort of contract Genma did, but I don't feel comfortable being that manipulative. I'd rather act based on what I think is right, and hope that the situation resolves itself. Who am I to claim that I have more wisdom than he who created the universe?
Fey cleared his throat, startling Ranma from his slumber. His eyes widened momentarily, as he realized the position he and Ranko were in, then his face cleared. He had made his decision, and he would stand by it, and her. He nodded at Fey, acknowledging his presence, then released Ranko's hands, and gripping her shoulders, shook her lightly.
"Huh? Wha?" Ranko stirred, and murmured drowsily, until her eyes, slowly coming into focus, latched onto the figure of Fey standing before them. It was time.
"Have you made your decision?" asked Fey, a soft smile on his face for the apparent comfort they were taking in each other. From his knowledge of Ranma from the world where he made Nabiki a dragon, he would have expected that even after Ranma became able to show affection, he would still react badly to being caught doing so in public.
"We have," Ranma replied. "I will be your avatar, Fey-sama." Ranma deliberately used the highest term of respect. If he was to be Fey's avatar, then he must first accept that Fey was a kami. Arrogant though Ranma was, by his father's hand, he could not deny the power he felt in Fey. Besides, if it weren't for Fey, he would probably be in a heap of trouble with Genma, and still turning into a girl half the time, and most importantly, he would never have met Ranko, never have learned how good it could feel to just hold her.
"As will I," Ranko said, looking up, eyes shining with happiness. Because of Fey, she had been freed from her prison, returned to life, and found the man of her dreams, as well as gained unbelievable skill in the martial arts, without losing her magic. For him, she would do whatever he asked of her . . . except give up Ranma.
"Very well," said Fey, a serious look banishing the smile from his face. "Stand and face me." As they stood, he drew forth Dragon Fang, the dagger's edge glinting golden in the light of the sun, and changed its form to that of a golden chalice.
He released it and the glittering cup hung in the air where he left it, as if gravity had no hold upon it. He raised his left wrist above the chalice, and extending the fingernail of his right forefinger, he slashed his wrist, allowing his blood to flow into the chalice, as the two teenagers watched, wide-eyed.
When the chalice was nearly full, a soft white glow flared about the cut on his wrist, and it closed, stopping the flow of blood. Lowering the chalice slightly, so that he could easily look into the waters, he began gently weaving his magic into it. He did this very slowly, for the magic that he wished to create was grand and powerful, yet it was important that none of the interested parties should feel the casting, other than the two standing before him.
He extended his senses into the chalice, focusing the threads of magic, and slowly crafting an intricate web. The blood itself served as the channel for his power, that would link them to himself, making them his avatars and allowing them to draw on his power, and to act as a channel for his magic, that he might cast through them. Beyond and around that, he wove regenerative links, that their health, ki, and magic might be replenished more swiftly through their link to him.
He slipped in a pair of triggers that would allow them to take on the greater Neko-ken forms even if they failed at mastering the ki technique to reach them. He himself was unsure whether the forms were reachable with only ki without having first used magic to forge the path, since he was the only example he had to go on and he had used magic to first effect the transformation.
Even more carefully, he wove the magic that would change them permanently, raising them from the levels of pure mortals, to the level of dragons, pheonix, and kirin, that they might increase their power without arbitrary limit. Using the beings that were normally expected to defeat Cell as a template, he gave them Saiyajin like power growth, that they might increase in power both from battles, and even more from near-death beatings.
More carefully still, he followed the template used by a number of evil gods, being extremely cautious to avoid that which would darken their souls, and wove in the ability to pass on their powers, though not their skill nor experience, through a bite and the drinking of blood. He ensured that the bitten would not be mentally controlled, as most templates called for, and as an extra precaution, set it up so that they could revoke the granted powers with a simple physical contact of any kind, as well as granting them the ability to choose and control which powers were passed on.
He did nothing to suppress the dragon in his blood, not knowing if nor how the dragon blood, when taken orally, would affect them. That he left to chance, remembering that he had been chosen for this task, the God of Chaos, and thus allowing that spark of the unknown to balance the carefully ordered spells he had employed.
Ranko and Ranma watched the proceedings with interest. Ranma was feeling a certain degree of excitement and tension, knowing what was about to happen, and feeling a little queasy about the thought that Fey obviously intended for them to drink his blood, after he was finished doing whatever he was doing. Ranma could sense that Fey was doing something with his ki, but couldn't really tell what it was.
Ranko on the other hand could sense both magic and ki, and she was in awe of the delicacy of Fey's power. Her own magic, being largely battle magic, was far less precise and controlled. The fact that he was using his ki to manipulate the magic he was slowly and carefully building up was not lost on her, as she pondered how he was accomplishing it. For her, ki and magic had always been two completely separate things, and she had never been able to manifest a proper battle aura, though her magic aura, when manifested properly, could be plenty intimidating. To see him so gracefully combining the two sent thoughts spiralling through her mind, as she pondered what she might be able to accomplish, now that she had significant reserves of both ki and magic.
Fey finished the last step, transmuting the taste, though not the substance, into that of the juice of cherries. Not wanting to cause any complications regarding quantity, he summoned a second golden chalice, and magically divided the liquid into the two containers, then handed one chalice to Ranma, and one to Ranko.
"Drink, if you are firm in your intent to become my avatars."
Ranma and Ranko accepted the chalices, and looking at each other, nodded. Suppressing their nervousness, and with their eyes fixed on one another, they lifted the chalices to their lips, paused, and then drank.
Ranma drank quickly, to avoid tasting Fey's blood any longer than he had to, and noticed only after he had swallowed the entire chalice-full, that the lingering aftertaste was not at all unpleasant.
Ranko sipped at first, wary of the taste of blood, but when, instead of the coppery taste of the iron in his blood, she tasted sweet cherries, she drank deeply, but slowly, relishing in the warm, sweet, thick liquid as she imbibed it, feeling the warmth of it spreading through her.
Both noticed, moments after beginning to drink, a warmth spreading from their stomachs, suffusing their chests, and rolling down their limbs, filling their bodies with a gentle heat. Moments after they finished the last of the blood, the warmth in their centers seemed to ignite, sending fire racing through them. For just a moment, their skin seemed to take on a golden tinge, and their eyes glowed, then it faded, and the fire settled into a comfortable warmth in their chests.
"It is done," proclaimed Fey. He strode past them, and settled to the ground, leaning against the tree where Ranma had been. "Sit, my avatars, and I will teach you."
The chalices vanished, to their mutual startlement, but his voice drew them, and they sat at his feet.
"First, I want to reassure you, Ranma. You have gained no great power. Most of what was done was simply to remove the barriers to your growth. You will heal faster, and regain your ki faster, but your reserves have probably not grown significantly."
Ranma nodded, smiling slightly. He had not wanted to admit it to Fey, who had done so much for him, nor had he desired to seem ungrateful, but the idea of simply being granted power that he had neither earned nor worked for, was troubling to him. He felt better for knowing that the skills and power he had, he had fought and trained for. He could no longer speak of it, lest he hurt Ranko, for she had simply been given all the skills and ki he had gone through so much to attain. Yet he did not begrudge her them, for she too had skills that she had gone through great struggle to obtain, her magic, and so she knew what it was to work hard for something.
Still, he disliked the thought of being granted power that he did not earn, for it called up for him the image of someone defeating him with power they were given, but had never worked for, rendering useless and pointless all the terrible ordeals he had gone through.
He was glad that in spite of his not having said anything about it, Fey had perceived and addressed that concern, once again emphasizing the difference between his old master, his ill-begotten father, and his new master, for Genma would never have bothered worrying about how Ranma felt about anything.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Fey looked at Ranko then. "You too shall find that your ki, as well as your magic, is recovered faster, and that you will heal much faster than you are used to without needing magic."
"Now, there is a connection between you and me, and I am a God. There is therefore now a second class of magic open to you. Your magic comes from within, shaped by your will, as with your ki. This second form of magic is not shaped by your will, but by your mind, for you do not cast it."
"From the perspective of most religions, I suppose, you would call these 'miracles,' and you cast it by praying, but understand, I am not requiring that you worship me. I do not desire that. Do not think of it as prayer, but simply as communication, for that is all it is. Because of the link between us, you can form in your mind an effect you desire, and call upon me to make it happen. Only with experience will you learn the limits of this, and it has its dangers. The magic is given form by your own intention and mental image, so if you do not focus sufficiently, the effect may be far from what you desired."
"Theoretically, it is very open-ended. There are no pre-determined effects, you can cause any effect at any time, subject to my own limitations, and the limit of your imagination and focus. In practice, it is probably best to think of it as katas, though, and to develop them through practice, until your mental pictures are clear and instant, and the effect precise."
He glanced at Ranma. "Though you have little experience in magic, Ranma, this is available to you as well. Think of it as a kata . . . to draw on my power, you must craft a new form, and practice it until you have it perfect, and that effort is the price you pay for the power." Fey knew Ranma would not like, at least at first, the thought of simply casting spells by telling Fey what effect he wanted, but hopefully, by thinking of them as mental katas, he would be willing to try.
Fey turned his attention back to Ranko. "Try something for us, Ranko, something simple."
Ranko nodded, and focused in her mind. Something simple, hmm. The simplest spell I know is light. She cleared her mind, and pictured her hand, with a sphere of light about four inches in diameter above it, giving off as much illumination as a large candle, that could be moved and positioned by simple thought. With this image strongly in her mind, she spoke aloud, some of the words coming as if by instinct. "I call on thee. Lord Fey, grant me Light!"
She felt a slight surge of power, and a sphere of white flared above her outstretched hand. "Cool," Ranma said, looking at the sphere, wondering if it looked anything like a ki attack would.
She glanced at him. "You try it, Ranma."
He looked a little bit dubious, but closed his eyes, and pictured light. Not anything specific, just white light, and then repeated her words. They were all blinded by a brilliant flash, as if lightning had struck. Fey chuckled softly, and Ranko teased Ranma for a minute, then grew serious again.
"I see what you mean about focus. Ranma, what did you picture?"
"Just light," Ranma replied.
Fey grinned. "Keep it in your repetoire, Ranma, it could be useful in a fight, but I'd call it Flash or something like that."
Ranko sighed. "Close your eyes, and focus. I'm going to try and guide your imagination."
Ranma closed his eyes, and cleared his mind. "Ready," he said.
"Picture yourself, sitting where you are. Can you see yourself?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Ok, now, picture a red sphere above your outstretched hand. It is warm, about the warmth of your skin, and know, don't picture it, just know, that if something touches it, it will cause it to catch on fire as if it were a torch. Now, picture it moving when you want it to. Make it float up above your head, then away from you. Now, holding that picture in your mind, cast it."
"Uhm... Lord Fey, gimme a Torch," said Ranma. He popped his eyes open, and boggled at the warm ball of red light. Ranko giggled at his uncouth prayer, but said nothing, since it had apparently worked. Ranma reached out towards it, then pulled back, feeling the heat intensify when his fingers approached it.
Fey picked up a small branch, and poked the light, then pulled the branch back, showing that it was darkened, and slightly charred at the very tip. He put it back in, and left it for a moment, then pulled it out. It wasn't burning, but the tip was glowing red, though fading quickly.
"Very good," he said. "Now, just for your information, I should inform you that this is heavenly magic that you are drawing on at the moment. That means that attack spells using this magic will be more effective against truly evil beings, like demons, than spirit attacks, or your own magic."
"However, being the God of Balance, I have equal access to demonic energies, and if you concentrate and focus on that, you can cast spells using that energy the same way."
Ranko wrinkled her brow, looking confused. "Why would we want to cast demonic spells?"
"Well," Fey responded, smiling slightly at her puzzled look, "I don't know of any particular reason, though its best to be aware of all of your abilities. There is one example I can think of though. You will both need the experience of fighting against opponents stronger than yourselves to increase your skills. Well, there is a simple solution to that . . . I am going to show you how to transform, as I have done once before. If one of you fights normally, and the other fights in the stronger form, and trade off, you can manage constant improvement, since your power when transformed is linked to your normal power, and increases with it. However, you also need experience fighting together, and against multiple opponents."
"The simplest solution to this problem is to summon demons. They are thoroughly evil, and even if you completely destroy them, all you've really done is banish them back to where they came from, so you haven't got to feel angst about killing, because you haven't. Summon demons, and you'll have as many opponents as you need, that you can go all out against."
Ranma perked up at that description. He had enjoyed sparring with Ranko, but he knew that if they were to be effective against whatever it was they had to fight, they would have to be able to fight together. He certainly wouldn't object to having some truly strong opponents for a change, either.
"That makes sense, I guess," said Ranko, a bit dubious at the thought of fighting real demons just to practice.
"Also, demons prefer to conceal their presence from gods and other good beings, so demonic magic works better at detecting other demons."
Fey rose easily to his feet. "Now, I'm going to demonstrate the Neko-ken transformations. Embrace the cat, and then focus your ki senses on me."
When they were both in the Neko state, he drew up his aura, embracing the Neko-ken slowly, allowing them to observe each step, as he progressed through the mental focusing of his ki, and triggered the transformation, growing taller, and filling out, as fur sprouted from his skin.
To their mutual surprise, he then embraced the Neko-ken again, repeating the steps, and swelled into a fifteen foot tall half-dragon, massively muscled, with scales, horns, and powerful claws, and two huge wings.
Ranma moved to begin the mental kata, but Fey held up a hand. "Wait, or you'll ruin your clothes." Fey drew from the air two rings, and handed them over. "These rings will cause whatever clothing you are wearing to shift with you, growing to match you in the half forms, and vanishing in the full forms. I've shown you the half-forms, now for the full..."
He released the Neko-ken, then drew it up again, and dropped to all fours, surrounded by the solidity of his tiger shaped aura, hands and feet not quite reaching the ground, then proceeded through the mental kata again, becoming a massive twelve foot long tiger. His aura flared about him again, and he swelled, growing into a thirty foot long oriental dragon. The full Neko-ken dragon form was far smaller than his own true draconic form, but was still impressive.
Banishing the Neko-ken again, he shrank rapidly, then stood. "I shall leave you now," he said, "but remember what I said. To grow in power you must fight against opponents stronger than yourself. The easiest way at hand, is for one of you to take on a Neko-form, and spar. Eventually, though, you must find a way to fight together, all-out, against multiple enemies." With those parting words, Fey vanished.
Ranma turned to face Ranko, grinning. "Well, I guess we oughta start working on that changing thing huh?"
"Yes, we should work on the transformations," she agreed, emphasizing the proper word choice. He grimaced, and stuck his tongue out at her, to which she giggled. "Well, here goes nothing . . ."
Ranko tried to run through the kata in her mind, to effect the transformation, but felt no different when she finished. Glancing down, she realized that it was not an unnoticed transformation. She simply hadn't changed at all.
She glanced at Ranma, focusing her ki senses, as he was working through his try. For him as well, nothing happened. For the next half-hour, Ranko and Ranma spent their time trying, unsuccessfully, to accomplish the transition. Fey sighed, watching the failure. He had hoped to determine that it was possible through ki alone, but it wasn't working out. He still wasn't sure that it was impossible, but he didn't want his charges to become too frustrated.
He appeared before Ranma, startling him out of his latest attempt, and turned to catch Ranko's attention. "I anticipated this impasse," he told them, smiling to reassure them that he was not irritated at their lack of progress, "and while I want you to continue to try, occasionally, to make the change solely with ki, I have given you a magic trigger that will effect the change. Picture in your mind yourself transforming into your hybrid tiger form, and say 'Transform.'"
Ranma looked a bit disgruntled. "We don' gotta pose and shout it, do we?" He hadn't been exposed to much culture, but he had managed to read the occasional manga, and the thought of having to spout silly speeches and shout out transformations phrases was disquieting.
Fey grinned. "Not at all, feel free to mutter it under your breath if you like. It's just a trigger, and hopefully, in time, you'll be able to do it just by focusing your ki."
Ranko was not as self-conscious as Ranma, having never seen any sentai shows, or read manga, and while Ranma was complaining, she tried to picture herself growing fur, and getting taller, and said calmly, "Transform."
Ranma nodded at Fey, then glanced at Ranko, and his eyes bulged. She looked hot! She was about seven and a half feet tall, sleek, powerful, built. Her fur was a dark reddish-brown with black stripes. She grinned at his reaction, baring feral teeth, her whiskers twitching as she tried to get used to the peculiar sensitivity of the addition to her face.
Ranma pictured himself looking like Fey, and muttered the word. Ranko's eyes sparkled, and her heart raced, as Ranma swelled to almost nine feet, muscles gaining mass and definition. His fur was a deep black-striped gold. Fey noted with some surprise that where Ranko's transformation matched his own fairly closely, Ranma's had a significant difference. It seemed odd, since Ranma should have had a model to work off of, while Ranko would have been less able to use Fey as a model. Nonetheless, the difference was clear. Ranma's legs were strangely shaped, as if he had a second, backward facing knee.
Fey realized the implication. Due to Ranma's experiences with the full Neko-ken, he was embracing it more deeply than Ranko or Fey did, resulting in more cat-like characteristics.
"You should, with practice," he commented, "be able to adjust the depth of the transformation, from nearly human, to full-tiger, rather than just the half-form. You can see a hint of this if you compare your legs." Ranma seemed to notice his legs for the first time.
"Wha? What happened?"
"Just a deeper Neko-ken, Ranma, nothing to be concerned about. In fact, the leg structure is one place you might want to consciously focus on. Your form, Ranko, is better for strength and power, while yours, Ranma, is better for speed and agility. Bit of a flip for you two, isn't it?"
Fey grinned at them. "See you later. Don't forget what I said about practicing." He vanished again, but as he was vanishing, his head cocked to the side, as he sensed something probing the vicinity, and realized that his earlier magic had been detected by something. He locked onto the source of the scan, and appeared some distance from it.
---
Tenchi sat at the table wondering what was going wrong. He wasn't sure where they came from, but almost a week before, he'd started having dark dreams, though he never recalled after waking what the content had been, remembering only that they had been dark and frightening.
He had tried not to let it affect him, but he had watched his family more closely, to see if any of those around him were being similarly affected. To his continued pain, he had detected signs of strains on the delicate face of the most innocent among them, little Sasami.
When he had gently tried to speak to her of it, all she had been able to tell him was that it felt like everything was darker than it had been before, like she was seeing the world through a veil.
That had been bad enough, but several days later, Washu had suddenly become terribly excited about something. The self-proclaimed greatest genius scientist in the universe soon grew irritable. She was frustrated, though at what he did not know, but she was getting to be dangerous to be around. Around the same time, the feeling of darkness had eased, according to Sasami, and his dreams had lightened, but with Washu on edge, it seemed no improvement.
Right now she sat across the table from him, tapping frantically on the transparent terminal that floated in front of her, and he was trying to sit very still, like a rabbit hiding from a fox, hoping to avoid catching her attention.
He groaned inwardly when he felt soft arms with a deep core of strength slide around his neck. Ryouko . . . and in a moment, Ayeka would erupt in anger, catching Washu's attention, and drawing it to him.
Before that could happen, Washu suddenly sprang up, excited, and shouted, "Finally! He's here!"
Ryouko looked up at her mother, peeved at the interruption. "Who's here?"
"I've been trying to track him for days," Washu said, capering about like the young girl she appeared to be, "just a little while ago I detected a large discharge of energy in China, and I probed it as deeply as I could, and I caught his attention! He's coming here!"
"Washu-chan," said Ayeka, primly, sitting straight and trying to face Washu, a difficult task with her constant leaping and bouncing, "who exactly is he?"
"I don't know!" Washu cried out happily. "But he's my new guinea pig!" She laughed evilly, and everyone shuddered.
"That is probably not a good idea," commented Katsuhito from the doorway, light glinting from the flat planes of his rectangular glasses.
Ryouko suddenly jerked straight, causing Tenchi to glance back at her. He was startled at the look of concern on her beautiful features. "I . . . I can feel him," she whispered.
Tenchi felt it then, and clearly, so did the other people in the room, a sense of power and danger. They turned as one towards the door, where Katsuhito stood.
He stepped inside, and walking to stand by Sasami, turned to face the doorway with everyone else. The feeling intensified, and a shiver ran down Tenchi's spine. Washu was vibrating with excitement. Everyone else was nervous, except Sasami, who looked frightened, and Katsuhito, who seemed perfectly calm and composed.
Ayeka snorted indelicately. "It hardly matters, it's not as if he could be a match for Tenchi, anyway."
Ryouko shook her head slowly, wanting to agree, but knowing it wasn't true. Katsuhito sighed. "This one, I feel, is far more powerful than Tenchi is, at least at this time."
Everyone jerked in surprise, eyes popping wide, when Noboyuki appeared in the doorway, laden with his briefcase, and a number of rolled sheets of architechural drawings. "What?" he asked nervously, seeing that everyone was staring at him, then shivered, as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up.
The wave of relief that had rolled over the group when Noboyuki stepped in disappeared, replaced by an almost painful tension, as Noboyuki took a single step forward, and turned, just slightly. He was afraid to look behind him, feeling like some poor schmuck in a horror movie, about to spin around only to be killed in a horrific fashion.
Unfortunately for everyone else, Noboyuki was still in a position to prevent them from seeing what was behind him. Tenchi was in a terror for his father, and tried to run to him, but Ryouko held him back, feeling in her bones that Tenchi could do nothing against that which stood beyond his father.
Sasami burst into tears from the tension as Noboyuki completed his slow dramatic turn, and Katsuhito knelt behind her, and hugged her comfortingly.
"What? Oh, yes, of course, please come inside," said Noboyuki, and everyone let out a sigh of relief. Noboyuki led their visitor inside, giving the others their first look at him. Dressed in black silks, he was muscular, but not exaggeratedly so, more like an athlete than a body-builder. Those who were skilled in the martial arts immediately noticed that he moved like a master, in flowing motions that seemed to speak of minimalism, as if he never had to put extra effort into accomplishing anything.
He stepped into the house, discarding his shoes by the door, and swept his gaze across the assemblage. He arched an eyebrow at Sasami and Katsuhito, before continuing. He cast an appraising eye at Tenchi and Ryouko, acknowledged Ayeka, then snapped his gaze back to Washu, who had caught her breath at the sight of the three tattoos on his face.
"Local kami," she thought, "damn, I hope I haven't done anything to warrant their official attention."
He strode forward, everyone watching as if frozen, to stand before Washu, looking down at her. "You sought my attention. You have it."
"I . . . ," Washu began, blushing softly. Did he have to look so damned handsome? "I detected your activities a few days ago, but I couldn't track you . . ."
He nodded, as if that was all that was needed to explain her actions, and cast his gaze around, then back to Katsuhito. "You, I know . . . and that . . . would make you Masaki Tenchi," he said, turning to face Tenchi.
Ryouko snarled, moving in front of Tenchi, and igniting her sword. "What do you want with Tenchi?" she growled.
He sighed softly. "As a young child, I came to the Masaki shrine, where Katsuhito taught me to wield my sword. I knew Tenchi as a friend."
Katsuhito frowned. Why would he tell such a transparent lie? Tenchi looked at the man curiously. "I don't remember that," he said, nervously.
The man laughed softly. "Of course not, Tenchi. It never happened. Not here. I am from a different dimension. Nevertheless, I was trained by Katsuhito, and I knew you. Because of that relationship, I will spare some time to explain to you what has been going on."
"You have been feeling darkness," he continued, looking at Tenchi, and casting glances at Washu and Sasami. "That is because until I came, this world's future was nothing but darkness, no matter the path, due to the intervention of a powerful malevolent entity. I am not permitted to oppose this entity directly. However, I have been permitted to intervene in minor ways. I have chosen a pair of champions, and I have been training them. That is what you detected, Washu."
He turned slowly, looking at Tenchi and Ryouko, then glancing at Katsuhito. "Your future has never been as dark as the planet's, for you can escape, where most people cannot. That is why you were not more strongly affected. Yet, even knowing that this darkness is not coming for you, I would ask that you consider aiding me."
Katsuhito smiled slowly. "What is it you would ask, young man?"
He bowed to the older man. "Training, and sparring. My champions need training with weapons, for they will face foes it is death to touch, and they will need sparring partners to keep their skills up, and keep them from stagnating by facing predictable opponents. Grant me this, and I will ensure that all of you make it safely off the planet should the darkness overwhelm."
When Katsuhito nodded, he bowed again. "Thank you. Now I must take my leave of you." With that, he vanished.
"That was weird," commented Tenchi. "Usually, when someone that strong shows up, we end up fighting, or getting kidnapped, or something."