Assignment


Ranma kicked his legs up, leaning back in the chair and allowing his
legs to land, crossed, on the table's polished top. This was the first
formal request for assistance that the gods had made since Kami-sama
occasioned Ranma's apotheosis, but Ranma, while he had loosened up
considerably, was unwilling still to reveal weakness except to those
closest to him, so he concealed his careful examination of his
surroundings behind a veil of unconcern.

He knew, though in this environment his senses were too limited to allow
certainty, that the dark mirror on one wall was an observation mirror, a
one-way mirror, and that someone was behind it, watching him. From the
look of it, however, he doubted that the room was ever used for 
interrogations . . . the hanging projector overhead, the expensive 
furnishings, the wet bar in the corner all belied the thought. Rather,
he guessed, the room was used for both briefings and debriefings. While
the briefings might be as easily conducted in other environs, the
debriefing would need to occur somewhere where the proceedings could be
both observed and likely recorded. 

Probably the briefing was to occur in the same room so that the 
operative would be familiar with it already upon his return, thus being
more relaxed and forthcoming. 

It had only been about fifteen minutes, nowhere near reaching the limit
of his patience, when his briefing officer entered the room, so he had
shown no visible signs of noticing the passage of time. He recognized
his briefing officer easily enough, though he had never encountered
this universe's Urd before. The platinum hair, sensual body, and
revealing clothing were all quite familiar; which, he supposed, was at
least part of why she had been chosen. It had been Urd, after all,
albeit not this particular Urd, who had trained him in the use of his
deific and demonic powers, not to mention awakening the latent Talent,
the telepathic and psychokinetic powers lurking in the dragon's blood he
had been given.

She sat across from him, and favored him with a warm smile, just
slightly short of being sultry. She set a folder on the table, unwound 
the cord that bound it, and opened it, setting beside it a black oblong
device that Ranma guessed was the control for the overhead projector.

She flipped the first sheet over, and Ranma's quick senses caught an
image of the sheet, pulling it up in full detail before his minds eye,
though the lower regions were just a bit fuzzy due to the angle. It was
his dossier, or a portion of it. He turned his attention from it,
knowing that his eidetic memory, enhanced by the dragon blood and
deification, would retain that image for later perusal without any
conscious effort on his part, and focused instead on the remote control
which Urd had lifted and pressed upon with one slim, tapering finger.

The projector whirred softly into life, the fan coming on first, so that
when the bulb received power, the resulting heat would be drawn away
immediately.

In moments the bulb flickered into life, and an image of a devastated
world, its surface in ruins, sprang into life. As Urd began to speak,
more images of devastation blinked past.

"We've uncovered a plot by a malicious First-Class Entity to cause the
destruction of the Earth in a timeline of particular importance.
Unfortunately, the nature of his interference was remarkably minor... he
simply caused one single individual to be moved across dimensions."

The images showed innumerable dead bodies, cities razed to the ground,
forests burning, mountains smashed into rubble. None of the images
showed the slightest sign of life remaining.

"Our problem is that this particular Entity does not fall within the
realm of our direct jurisdiction, and so direct action against him would
not be bound by rules . . . meaning that it could easily result in the
deaths of numerous gods, the destruction of worlds and possibly whole
universes, and could draw other Entities into conflict."

An image of a man's face appeared, thin and wrinkled, the skin slightly
discolored, and set off by a bushy white mustache. He looked like he had
long white hair, though the length was impossible to determine from the
photo, other than that it was greater than shoulder length. He had
a simple gold earring in each ear, no eyebrows to speak of, and light
grey eyes. He appeared to be wearing a yellow shirt with a black vest,
and a tall black hat.

"However, the Entity has similar restrictions on his own actions, and as
long as we reply in kind, we have a chance to recover. A certain God of
Mischief who will remain unnamed suggested you as an appropriate
counteragent to this Entity's agent, who is a force of Order, a
scientist."

The slide projector displayed an image of a massive computer.

"This individual, Dr. Gero, is, as I said, a scientist, and upon finding
himself in this new world, he promptly built a computer. Unfortunately
for us, he apparently had with him at the time a capsule containing the
DNA of the greatest warriors on the world from which he came. He will
use this DNA to create a perfect warrior, a nearly unstoppable force of
destruction."

The image changed to that of a tall being, mostly humanoid, with chalk
grey skin around the face, and green skin mottled with black in most
other areas. The creature had wings similar to those of an insect, dark
black in color, and what seemed like a black chest-plate, black 
shoulder-plates, and black plates on his lower legs. 

"Unfortunately, we cannot allow you to fight this creature directly
either, for if you face Dr. Gero or this being, which is named Cell,
head-on, the resulting display of power will attract attention from
other hostile elements in the Earth's galaxy, before the Earth is ready
to defend against them."

"With you gone, after completing your mission, they would be
defenseless, and we would be lost, again. Therefore, we are authorizing
you to make the necessary changes in the timeline to create a group of
heroes capable of defending the earth, who can increase in power over
time, so as to match the threats that will approach upon feeling the
power used in the defeat of the current threat."

"It is up to you to select the warriors or heroes, and to choose how you
augment them. Just recognize that your own direct influence must be
minimized as much as possible."

"Do you have any questions?"

Ranma considered this. Clearly, given the leeway he had been given,
there was no point in asking who he should select. They had their
reasons for leaving it up to him. However . . .

"One question . . . Can you tell me what the critical event is that must
be protected? You said this timeline is important, and yet my
interference, while it may gain the timeline's continuance, will still
leave it significantly altered from what it was, since you won't allow
me to simply take out Dr. Gero directly, so can you tell me what I
should ensure happens?"

Urd sighed unhappily, and shook her head. "Unfortunately, no, all I can
tell you is that it is important that the Earth survive, that humanity
survives."

"Very well," stated Ranma, standing, and bestowing a gleaming smile on
Urd, who found herself momentarily breathless, "I am ready to depart."

"So you'll do it?," Urd asked happily. She hadn't really expected to be
able to convince him. After all, everyone in Asgard knew that he had not
really joined up . . . Kami-sama had granted him powers, true, but it
had been as much a favor to Kami-sama and the other gods from Fey Ranma,
whose only reason for accepting the power was to control the degree to
which his unconscious powers of chaos affected the activity of the other
deities, as it was a gift from Kami-sama to Ranma. 

He had no real requirement to work for Asgard. Indeed, one of the
points that had been made clear in the briefing the Asgardians had
received on the new Midgard deities was that they were equal in rank
among the Demons, and could as readily choose to work for Hild, without
incurring any penalties from the Yggdrasil system. 

She definitely hadn't been expecting him to be quite so . . .
charismatic. It had been a long time since Urd had truly been affected
by something so simple as a smile . . . she had jaded herself with her
own constant posturing and sensual behavior, and the reactions they
inevitably drew from gods, mortals, and demons alike. She wondered for
just a moment if she mightn't find him attractive largely because of his
ability to resist her charms so easily, but brushed the thought aside.
What was important was that he had agreed, which meant she'd done her
job successfully for once, without mishap.




First Choice


Ranma grumbled to himself as he packed up their camping gear. His father
was dragging him along to yet another 'famous training ground,' only
this time, he didn't seem to have the foggiest clue what made it so
great. He would only say that no-one trained there anymore, which must
mean that it was terribly dangerous. Ranma wondered whether it might not
actually mean that the training ground was merely inacessible, like that
one cave they had tried to reach. There had to be some reason that it
was no longer used, and since there were always idiots like his father
willing to do something no matter how dangerous it seemed, the idea that
its hazards were the reason it was no longer used seemed far-fetched to
Ranma.

Besides, it had been ten years, and Ranma was feeling anxious about the
imminent return to Japan. As he finished tightening the last tie on his
backpack and shouldered the burden, he wondered again whether his mother
was still alive, and what she would be like. He could no longer remember
her, and Genma would never speak of her, so there were no facts to fuel
his speculations, and his mind soon moved on to planning out how to
defeat his father this time. 

It had been some time since Genma had been a real threat to him. He had
been beating him in sparring regularly for a number of years by this
time. Nonetheless, he had to stay with the old man . . . after all, he
was his father, and for all the stupid things he had put Ranma through,
he still loved the old man. 

He followed his father, who was a thickly built man, only slightly
overweight, wearing a bandanna around his bald head, and glasses. They
both wore training gi, largely because Genma was too cheap to buy both
ordinary clothing and gi, though in this case they were in fact
heading towards training.

Genma looked upon his son as they walked side by side, now that they had
encountered a clear path, and he no longer needed to lead the way. His
son had grown strong, through all of the challenges that Genma had
thrown at him, and Genma felt a strong swelling of pride. He proceeded
to thoroughly mangle that sensation. It would not do, it absolutely
would not do to allow the boy to learn that he had already surpassed
Genma's expectations. Why, if he knew that, he might get cocky, he'd
start slacking off, and he'd listen to Genma even less. Better make sure
he wasn't getting a swelled head.

"Foolish boy!" Genma snarled, swatting the back of Ranma's head, "It
took you far too long to get packed this morning! Why, we didn't even
have time to spar before setting out," stated Genma, ignoring the fact
that he had basically been lazy, and not assisted his son, not feeling
like putting forth the extra effort needed to get the camp put away
quickly enough to allow a morning spar.

"You'd better impress me at this new training ground, Ranma! For it is
here that I will decide if you are yet man enough for us to return! You
must be the best!"

Ranma grumbled silently, not deigning to respond. His father was always
rambling on about how Ranma needed to be manly, and nothing Ranma ever
did seemed good enough for the old man. The slightest sign of
unwillingness or hesitation, though, and it was 'Oh, I'm so ashamed! My
son is acting girly! What are you boy? A girl? Or a man!?' Ranma had
long since grown sick of it, but he could not deny that he had become a
skilled martial artist through his father's teachings. He just couldn't
quite decide if it was because of his father's training, or in spite of
it.

Genma vacillated between a brooding silence, as he considered their
imminent return to Japan and his son's likely response to the news of
the boy's engagement, which given the boy's recent reactions to the
occasional downside of the training was likely to be painful for Genma,
and thinking about the boy himself and how proud he was of him, which
inevitably led to a short round of insults.

Ordinarily, Genma would have soon grown concerned at his boy's
uncharacteristic silence, his lack of response to Genma's insults, but
Genma was preoccupied. In fact, Ranma had been growing steadily more
taciturn for the last several months, not that Genma, ever perceptive
individual that he was not, ever noticed. The only insult that
consistently got a rise from Ranma was when Genma questioned his
manhood, calling him a girl. Had Genma been aware that this was because
Ranma had eked enough details out of Genma over the years to recognize
that his ever seeing his mother again depended upon his manhood, Genma
would have been startled at the boy's perceptiveness. As he was not
aware, he remained blithely confident that the boy had no particular
idea why it was so important that he be a man, and he further remained
blissfully unaware of Ranma's feelings on the subject.

Soon they stood together at the beginning of a downward slope that led
into a valley cloaked in dense white mists. As they continued down the
trail, the mists parted before them, and by the time they had reached
the bottom, the rising sun had burned off much of the mists. 

Ranma tried to stop for a moment to take in the view. One of the parts
of this trip that he had truly appreciated had been the sheer natural
beauty of some of the places they had visited. Unfortunately, though not
in the least bit unusually, Genma interrupted his attempt to enjoy
Nature's splendor.

"Come on, boy, don't stand around all day! Let's spar!" Genma looked out
over the vista of innumerable pools of various sizes, with freshly cut
and trimmed bamboo poles rising from them. As he leapt up to land
balanced easily upon one of the poles, he noted two things to himself.
First, that in spite of what the brochure said, this training ground
must remain in use, or there would not be freshly cut staves of bamboo
rising from each pool. Second, that this would be a good final training
ground, perfectly suited to the aerial nature of the Musabetso Kakuto
Ryuu that the Saotomes practiced. 

It would not, he could see, be like many of the places he had gone,
where Ranma had been put through hellish experiences that tempered him
as the forge tempers steel. Still, it would be a good site, in that it
would act something like a cooldown after a good spar, letting Ranma
down easy in terms of ceasing his heavy training schedule. Rather than
it simply stopping outright, they would enjoy this last training ground,
fine tuning their skills, as a way of allowing Ranma to ease into his
new life. After all, he would still be sparring with his son 
regularly . . . but the heavy training was over.

This was still definitely a higher level workout than the sparring would
be back home in Japan, for the air was thinner here high in the
mountains, and that water should be extremely cold. Losing focus here
would definitely result in a jarring awakening. 

Ranma dropped his pack and leapt easily to a pole across from his
father, and moments later the two were clashing steadily in the air.
Their sparring lasted for some time, as they bounced back and forth
across the expanse of poles, and they were near to their starting point
when Ranma finally tired of the insults Genma continually threw, and
blasting through his father's defenses, sent Genma plummeting into the
icy depths of one of the pools.

Ranma dropped easily to a pole a few pools away, waiting for his father
to emerge. When Genma did not emerge immediately, Ranma called out to
him. "Ano, Oyaji, are we done already?"

The pool frothed suddenly, and a massive shape barreled forth from it,
springing to land back atop the pole. Ranma gaped at the black and white
panda balanced precariously on the thin bamboo pole. He was frozen in
surprise and had only time to notice that the panda was strangely enough
wearing glasses and the tattered remnants of a training gi when it
attacked him.

Genma leapt from the pool and tried to focus on his son. He felt 
strange, slightly off-balance, and his sight was fuzzy . . . he assumed
it was from the water still dripping from his eyebrows, and the fact
that his glasses were askew. 

He was about to adjust them when he realized that Ranma had still not
moved, much less taken advantage of the opening. What was this?! He had
taught the boy to take every advantage in a fight, not sit there
gawking! He leapt to the attack, intent on teaching the foolish boy a
lesson, and to his great anger, Ranma hardly managed to even attempt to
block and was sent flying into another pool for his folly.

Genma growfed angrily, then paused, startled. Growfed? He what? He held
up his hand, and looked at it. Not a hand . . . fur, claws . . . he
looked down at himself, caught his reflection in the pool, and fell from
his pole in shock. He managed to catch it on the way down, and push
himself off so that he sailed over the pool that Ranma fell into and
onto solid ground. 

He spun to face where his son had gone in, mind frantic with horror. His
worst fears were confirmed when what rose from the pool was a dainty
redhead wearing Ranma's gi, and the shriek she gave off when she opened
her gi and looked down would have confirmed her femininity even had her
form not done so.

"Oyaaajiii!" she growled, launching herself at him, the intent to main
and possibly dismember clear in her still startlingly blue eyes. Genma
turned to flee when they were both brought up short by a quietly spoken,
"Stop," that somehow seemed to come from every direction at once. In the
air before Genma an apparition appeared that frightened him terribly.

Powerfully built, clearly male, the man's features were indistinct due
to the writhing aura of blue flames that tore the air about him in eerie
silence. Genma did not need to see him, to feel that this man's aura
rivaled that of the dreaded Master whose name he did not even dare to
think, and even worse . . . this man had wings! Was this some divine
kami of retribution come to visit judgement upon him? Genma immediately
launched into the only attack in his repertoire that was usable against
beings of this power level . . . the Saotome Special Technique - Crouch
of the White Tiger!

He fell to his knees before the man, bowing and scraping, kowtowing
before the kami. The Lord Fey looked down with disgust on the panda,
but nonetheless poured hot water upon him, a stream of steaming water
that appeared from his outstretched hand to trickle over the man's head.
After all, Genma couldn't offer his son to save his skin if he couldn't
speak.

Fey awaited the inevitable, maintaining a stern look, while Ranma simply
watched in disgust and mild curiosity. Her disgust was for Genma, and
his simpering, while her curiousity was for her father's return to
humanity. Could her own curse be so easily cured by this man? She
growled low in her throat when she heard her father offering her up to
appease the strange man. She knew well what he was about, he had done
much the same when they encountered martial artists who held grudges
against him for one reason or another and she knew he intended to come
for her. She couldn't help her feelings of revulsion, however, when she
heard him offering not his son . . . but his daughter, and extolling her
virtues, her beauty . . . her compliance?! The bastard!

"I accept, Saotome Genma!" the man said, in a voice that seemed to
reach into their very bones and rattle them. He held out a scroll, and a
golden quill pen. Genma signed hurriedly. "Now leave," the man growled,
and Genma shot Ranma an apologetic glance before racing away.

Ranma set herself in a defensive stance. She could feel the power
rolling off the man, but she was damned if she was going to allow some
damned man to buy her. Who knew what he wanted to do, but whatever it
was, she wasn't having any of it. She was beyond tired of being the
scapegoat for Genma's schemes, and this last one . . . well, it just
went too far! How could she see her mother now? What would she think?

---

In a village in a valley not far distant from the training grounds of
Jusenkyou, Kho Lon stood beside her great-granddaughter, as Xian Pu
watched and awaited her next turn in the tournament. Xian Pu was well on
her way to winning the tournament, which would be quite a feat. It was
quite unusual for any girl to win the tournament in the first year of
her participation, and most of those who had accomplished the feat had
gone on to become Elders themselves. Xian Pu was determined to make her
great-grandmother proud of her, and to take the tournament prize. She
would prove to them all that she was the best fighter of her generation.

Kho Lon looked up, startled, when she felt a flare of powerful ki in the
Jusenkyou valley. She concentrated on it for a moment, and judged it to
be approximately equal to her own. She glanced around, noting that a few
of the other elders had also felt it. She wanted to go and see what it
was, but she couldn't leave her great-granddaughter without support . . .
besides, she had a lot riding on the outcome of this tournament,
herself. She would investigate tomorrow . . . or perhaps, she might not
need to. The Jusenkyou Guide might bring whoever it was to the village.




Taking A Chance


"You know he was lying," Ranma snarled, and was startled when the man
nodded. The man allowed his aura to fade away and Ranma was quite 
startled to realize that she recognized the face. While he was taller,
she thought, then she had been as a man, though she couldn't be certain,
as she wasn't clear on how much shorter she now was, the face was
unmistakably her own . . . or what hers had been.

She felt a sudden heat in her eyes, and fought back tears. Was it all
over now? Was this man going to take her place as Saotome Ranma? She
certainly couldn't be much of a man for her mother now. Nonetheless,
even if the reasons behind her need to be a man might be beyond her
reach, she still would not allow the tears to fall. She could not
release her control, or she might never get it back.

"Who . . . Who are you," she demanded, painfully aware that based on his
aura, and the fact that he had made it visible with so little apparent
effort, not to mention the fact that he was her . . . well, err, his
twin, she had little chance of defeating him. It simply was not in her
to give up.

"I think you've guessed that already, Ranma, or close to it," he
replied, and she felt a sudden sharp wave of relief flood her as he
called her by her name. "I'm you . . . from a different world, with
different experiences. I'm here to help you . . . but I'm also here to
lay a burden upon you."

Ranma allowed herself to relax slightly. He had made no threatening
moves, and she had difficulty believing that she would ever really
attack herself . . . though she wasn't entirely convinced. He could be
something else, masquerading as her twin. After all, he had those
peculiar white wings, and that unbelievable feeling of power that she
had felt coming from him, that made her wonder if he wasn't really a
kami or something.

"Can . . . can you cure my curse?" she asked, barely daring to hope,
though he could see the pain and the desperate desire in her eyes. A
quick mental probe and he learned why she was so fearful, and he smiled
softly.

"Hai, Ranma, I can . . . in a sense," he answered, and he noted the
visible flood of relief and joy that spread through her, and its sudden
halt when he qualified his words.

"What do you mean, 'in a sense?'" she asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

He sighed. "First of all, let me say that I intend to hold Genma to the
promise he made to me. You are mine, by the contract he signed." He cut
off her imminent and furious protests. "Hold up, Ranma! Please, don't
get angry at me, this is for you, not me! This is your shield, Ranma,"
he continued, handing her a copy of the scroll, "your protection against
your father's stupid schemes. One of the clauses in this document, that
he didn't bother to read, is that it supercedes any and all prior
arrangements. There is a second sense, though, in which I want you to be
mine."

Again he had to head off her visible anger. "Not like that, I assure
you. It is simply that I want you to be my avatar, my hand in this
world. I want you to take up my task. I am here, Ranma, because without
my intervention, this world will be devoid of all life in a little under
thirty years. Nothing will survive."

He sighed again, noting her disbelieving expression. "I don't have time
to try and convince you that what I say is true. I must make you my
offer, and you will have to decide whether you can accept me on faith,
or not. There are three paths forward from this point, Ranma."

"One, I can dissolve this agreement between your father and myself, and
you can return to him, and deal with this curse, the engagement he is
taking you to, and all of the pain and misery that he has accumulated
for you, including the fact that due to an agreement that he made, that
I can see you at least have some inkling of, as long as you still have
that curse, he will force you to hide from your mother, who, by the
way, is still alive."

Neither individual noticed the approaching Jusenkyou guide, who had been
deliberately led astray by Fey before the father and son reached the
valley. He was nervous at the sight of the winged man, and kept his
distance, but watched and listened.

"Two, I can use the curse to split you into male and female. Both will
still be you . . . it will be as if you were cured, and yet you were
not. Then the Ranma that is trapped as a female can bathe in the
Nannichuan, and become cursed to be male, and come with me, while the
male Ranma returns to your father. Only one of you would ever be able to
see your mother again, for obvious reasons, and would have to put up
with all that your father has done, and the other would have to put up
with being a girl cursed to be a man."

"The last option is that I can split the curse from you, and use the
body to revive the spirit of the poor girl who drowned here so long ago,
the spirit that has been trapped in this pool for centuries upon
centuries . . . at least fifteen hundred years, by what I can see. You
can choose to free her, and together, you will go to your mother, and
you will have this agreement to shield you from all that Genma has done.
However, Genma would be hurt by this choice, for he would have no-one to
fulfill all of the pledges he has made, and would have to answer for
them himself. Furthermore, I will only do this if you agree to work for
me, to dedicate your life to saving the world."

"Take all the time you need to decide," he continued gently, smiling
down at her, "in the meantime," he held out a kettle to her, "all it
takes to reverse the curse temporarily is hot water."

She snatched the kettle from him, and poured it on her head, and sighed
in relief as she changed and shifted, and became a man again. He walked
over to sit beneath a tree, mind whirling with all that his lookalike
had said to him. Neither Saotome nor Fey Ranma noticed the sudden
bubbling of the pool, as the spirit trapped within desperately cried out
to Ranma to free her. 

It took everything she had, trapped in that void of nothingness, to
cause any impact on the outside world, and her efforts went unnoticed by
all save the Guide, who stared at the pool, and moved slowly and
carefully away, afraid that if the bubbling increased, the water might
splash in his direction. 

She didn't have much hope . . . after all, who would want to take such a
burden upon himself . . . surely he would choose to walk away, and if
not, then he would choose the second course, wherein he could save the
world and his honor alike. She tried not to hope, but couldn't resist.
It had been so long, so long spent knowing there was no way out, she
would be here for all eternity, never to know the peace of death, never
to be born again, never know even the blessedness of sleep, that she
couldn't resist grasping at the thinnest strand of offered hope.

It was all so strange. It sounded like a dream, and that was what the
first option was like. He could pinch himself, and awaken from the dream
. . . except that he'd still be in the nightmare. He'd still be turning
into a girl . . . His lookalike had said hot water only reversed the
curse temporarily. Ranma wondered how long it would take before he was a
girl again, as he looked at his hand, that only moments previously had
become something strangely unfamiliar, for all it had remained his hand
. . . well . . . her hand, anyway.

The second option wasn't so bad, and to an extent his honor said he
should take it. After all, it was a martial artist's duty to protect the
weak, and if the world really was due to end, then he couldn't in good
conscience take the first option. Yet it would mean that he would still
be cursed while he fought to save the world, and surely Genma would
plague the Ranma that went with him for the cure, and what was that
about an engagement? He was too young to be thinking about marriage,
though he already had an inkling, given Genma's behavior, and his love
of sake, as to why Genma would want a marriage. He wanted to live off
the sweat of Ranma's work, no doubt, wanted to be lazy all day, just sit
around drinking sake.

Ranma was not naive enough to think that this was another engagement
like several he recalled in his youth, that Genma had used to get free
food and shelter for a while. No, from what he said, the agreement had
already been made . . . and well, it just wasn't like Genma to worry
about fulfilling an agreement. He always made sure that he got something
out of an agreement right away, and once he was done with whatever that
was, he forgot about the agreement entirely. The fact that Genma would
remember and try to honor this one after who knew how many years sent a
thrill of foreboding down Ranma's spine.

Besides, his duty as a martial artist really insisted on the third
option. He had to help save the world, which meant either the second or
third option. He also had to help protect the innocent, which meant if
there was a girl trapped in that spring, and he could save her, he had
to do so. He worried for a few minutes about the failure of honor of not
fulfilling his father's promises, and what his mother would think, then
realized that the scroll his lookalike had given him was more than a
protection against those Genma had made promises to, it was also a
safeguard for his relationship with his mother. She could not insist
that he had to fulfill the agreements his baka oyaji had made when he
had proof that Genma had signed away Ranma's right to do so.

He stood, and walked up to his winged lookalike. "Alright, I'll do it,"
he said firmly. "Free her. Cure me of this curse and free the spirit,
and I'll do my best to save the world for you."

Fey grinned. He had hoped that he'd judged his counterpart in this world
rightly. He had searched for a warrior or martial artist with the right
degree of potential, the necessary power level, the rapidity of
learning, and found a number of them. When he deepened his search, and
looked for the personality that would lead one to choose the fight to
save the world for the right reasons, and not the fame or glory that
might seem due the position, he had been startled when it was the name
of Saotome Ranma that had floated to the top.

"Very well, but there is yet one more task to be taken care of, before I
can do that. You see, there is a strong possibility that the spirit,
having slept in silence for so long, may have lost many of its memories
of its life . . . yet I need her to be effective, and ready to be
trained, right from the beginning. Therefore, I am going to give her
access to your memories of your life . . . it will also, I hope, help
the two of you stay close, that you will have someone who truly
understands all that you have been through."

Ranma looked startled, then pleased, as he thought of having a friend
like Ucchan or Ryouga, but that actually understood him, then he
realized that there was a grave danger in what his counterpart was
saying. "But . . . what about the N-N-N-Neko-ken?"

"That," Fey smiled, pleased to see that his estimation of Ranma's
intelligence was not off, "is the task that must be taken care of
first." He had hoped that he was right, that Ranma, even one who'd been
in Genma's care all that time, and in spite of his having received such
a dismal report from Nabiki, when he had used her to learn of Ranma's
life, was not actually dumb, but merely ignorant. 

After all, the described speed of his rise in martial arts implied great
intelligence . . . but it was possible that it was an autistic form of 
intellect, as with those people who could perform very intricate math in
their heads, and yet be clueless in every other field. 

Ranma paled at Fey's words. What was his counterpart going to do to him?
The main impetus of his fear came from the fact that his own father's
attempts to cure him of his fear of cats had been based on the simple
plan of throwing him back in the pit with more food, after allowing the
cats to starve some more, again, and again, until he got over it. Only
finally learning the Neko-ken, and using it to savage his father, had
ended the cycle of pain.

"Not to worry, Ranma, I don't intend to throw you in a pit. I think I
can proceed a bit more delicately than that. Come," Fey said, dropping
easily into a lotus, "sit before me, and clear your mind." Fey spread
his wings out after discovering to his mild dismay that he could not sit
with them folded behind him but showing no sign on his face of the
momentary pain that had flared in his wings when the tips had bent
against the ground. 

Ranma did as he was bid, and tried to clear his mind. Having little
experience with meditation, he was not very effective, but Fey had been
expecting that. It was Ranma's preoccupation with trying to clear his
mind that Fey had been after, for it would prevent Ranma from noticing
his work.

Fey reached out, and gently probed the mind of his other self, finding
easily both the darkness within which Ranma's mind would retreat in his
fear, and the cat. Moving closer, and with the aid of his divine senses,
Fey was surprised to discover a slight hint of divine magic about the
cat-spirit. Probing deeper, Fey came to the conclusion that the reason
that Ranma managed to come out of the Neko-ken without going permanently
insane was that some divinity had interfered and placed the spirit of
one of the dying cats into Ranma, to fill the void left when Ranma's
mind and soul retreated into the darkness. 

Fey touched the cat-spirit, and judging its reactions, decided that he
was right. This was not some malevolent spirit, but a playful though
easily frightened house-cat. It was then that Fey really got a sense of
what the Neko-ken was . . . Not the version that he had mastered, but
that taught by the pamphlet . . . for if the divinity had not
intervened, then there would have been a hole in Ranma, a space waiting
to be filled. 

Given the stories of what those suffering from the Neko-ken did, killing
even those they loved in some cases, and causing massive destruction, as
well as the similarities to possession in general, Fey decided that the
manual was probably a demonic plant designed to lure foolish masters
into opening their students to demonic possession. Ranma had been lucky
indeed, as had Fey. He would have to discuss this with Neko when he
returned, and see if his memories and experiences matched.

As it was, Fey suppressed the fear that Ranma felt, then slowly drew the
two spirits together, to allow communication. It would take some time,
but without the fear, Ranma would be able to face the cat, and perhaps,
something more could be done.

Ranma found himself quite suddenly standing in darkness, and he heard a
cat mewing somewhere nearby. He tensed to run, then slowly loosened up
again, as he realized that strange though it was, he was feeling no
fear. The sound wasn't triggering flashbacks of his time in the pit,
wasn't reminding him of their tearing claws, their flashing eyes, their
dagger-like teeth. In fact, it . . . it sounded almost . . . piteous.

Feeling a sudden surge of compassion, Ranma tried to move toward the
sound, and to his surprise, the movement was almost instantaneous.
Hardly had he formed the intention than he was beside the cat. He
crouched beside it. It was a tiny thing, compared to him, its ribs
easily visible through its side, and it meowed again, stumbling about as
if searching for something. 

Ranma wished he had something to give it, and suddenly he found himself
again draped in fish sausages. He shivered for a moment, but steeling
himself, looking at the pitiable cat, that was scarcely a danger to him
now, and pulled off a sausage. He set it before the cat, and watched it
devour it. It felt like he should be shivering in fear, watching it eat,
but he could not feel any fear . . . only sadness.

"What happened to you?" he wondered aloud, picking the cat up and
setting it in his lap, feeding it another sausage, "Poor little fella."

As Ranma held the cat, more and more began to appear around them, crying
out in hunger, and he moved suddenly, with his full speed, unwrapping
the sausages in the merest instant, separating them rapidly, and
flinging a sausage in front of each starving cat. Even as he did so, the
realization hit him, that these were the cats that had died with him,
the cats in the pit, that he had slain when he learned that terrible
technique. As he looked at them now, at their scrawny forms and
desperate hunger, he felt a growing anger towards his father. 

The scene vanished, as Ranma's attention was caught by a flash of light.
He blinked against the glare, and realized he was again seated across
from his lookalike. 

"The first cat was real, Ranma," Fey said, grimly, "one of those cats
gave up its spirit to make you whole. Had it not done so, I believe a
demon would have filled the space, the emptiness left when you fled
into the darkness. That is what your father did, Ranma, he opened the
way for a demon to possess you. You are inordinately lucky that someone
or something intervened, and you are possessed merely by a cat."

"I . . . why wasn't I afraid?"

"I suppressed your fear, Ranma . . . I want you to reach out, in your
mind, try and find the cat. I am still withholding your fear, and I want
you to consciously choose to embrace the cat. Accept the cat, Ranma,"
Fey's voice was low and hypnotic, as he guided Ranma's mind down the 
appropriate paths, "embrace the cat, remember your compassion, and
embrace it." 

Ranma's stance shifted suddenly, visibly, even though he was seated. His
eyes widened, as he stared at Fey, then held up a hand before his face,
and concentrated. Long blue claws flickered in the air above his
fingers, barely visible. "But . . . but I'm awake! I'm still here,"
Ranma protested.

"This is the beginning of the path to the true Neko-ken, Ranma. When you
see a cat, do not run in fear, afraid that if you do not, you will
succumb to the fear, and release the cat within. Instead, reach out,
immediately, and embrace the cat within. Then you will be a cat, but
consciously, not sleeping, as you are otherwise, and as a cat, you have
no fear of cats."

Ranma's eyes grew wide with startled awe, as he faced this remarkably
simple solution to the Neko-ken. 

"I have removed my suppression of your fear, Ranma," stated Fey, and
Ranma glanced at him, but showed no signs of fear, even though he was
behaving like a cat at the moment. Fey summoned a small housecat, and
held it out to Ranma. Ranma took it, purring himself, and rubbed his
cheek against it. 

"But I'm not afrrraid," he protested.

"As I said, Ranma, you have no fear of cats when you are a cat, so all
you need to do, is embrace the cat, rather than the darkness. Release
the cat, now," he ordered.

Ranma released the cat-spirit, and felt the sudden upsurge of fear at
the dangerous, deadly beast in his hands. He made a sudden motion, as if
to flee, but his will was stronger than his fear for just long enough
for him to reach out to the cat within him. He relaxed, the fear
draining away, as a smile grew on his face. It worked, it truly worked!

"You would have been right to fear, to run and avoid the chance of
awakening the Neko-ken, Ranma, had Genma succeeded, had not someone or
something else intervened, for then the Neko-ken would have been a demon
possessing you, and under its influence, you would have slain
indiscriminately. As it is, while under the influence, you must be
careful, for you will, in certain ways, tend to react as a cat would.
For example, if you fall in love, then while under the Neko-ken, you
will tend to express that love quite openly, even if you've been hiding
it otherwise. And if someone else should threaten your love, you will
react as an angry cat would. Therefore, you should practice embracing
the cat, and retaining your control."

"I summoned this cat," Fey continued, taking the small housecat from
Ranma's hands, "because I am afraid that when I give your memories to
the spirit in the spring, that hole will be there again. I do not want
to chance a demon filling it, so I will place this cat's spirit within
her. This, in case you hadn't noticed," and he grinned, "is a female
cat, while the spirit in you is male."

"But," Ranma protested, "that's not exactly fair to the cat, is it?"

"I can communicate with cats, Ranma, and this one has agreed to what I
have asked of it," remonstrated Fey, "it will live far longer within
her, and it will no longer need to fear. It is not a domesticated cat,
as was yours, but a wild-cat, so I am afraid she will be a bit feistier
when under the influence." Fey grinned evilly.

"It hasn't exactly been feisty around me," Ranma argued.

"I've been keeping it calm," replied Fey. "Now, it is time . . .
re-enter the pool," Fey ordered, pointing to the Spring of Drowned Girl,
as he stood, rising easily from his cross-legged position, still holding
the cat.

Ranma turned to enter the pool, and was surprised to see it bubbling. He
did not worry about the strangeness though, as he was feeling an
unusual amount of confidence in this stranger that wore his face. After
all, this stranger had somehow given him conscious access to the
Neko-ken, as well as a safer escape from the fear, something Genma had
never been able to do.

He waded in, and turned to face Fey, who was focusing some kind of blue
light between his hands. Fey drew up the threads of magic, carefully
examining the weave of the pool, and teasing it apart, while
simultaneously suppressing Ranma's ability to feel pain, splitting him
magically, and shielding them all from the reaction of the magic all
around them. 

He had to very carefully balance his division of Ranma against his
unweaving of the pool, lest he either allow the spirit in the pool to
escape his grasp completely, or allow the curse to attach to Ranma's
male body as he separated them. It was an extremely delicate process,
but Fey's powers of concentration, his ability to focus, was
unparalleled, and he did not falter.

As he levitated the two unconscious youths from the pool, one clothed,
one not, and set them upon the ground, a figure materialized a short
distance away. Fey erected a quick barrier around them, staring at the
black-cloaked, hooded figure carrying a massive scythe.

"There is no need to fear for them," Death said, in a hoarse whisper, "I
am come to warn you. The time of her death," he pointed at the nude
redheaded girl, "has come and gone long ago, but the magic of the pools
comes from one whose deal with Death prohibits the collection of their
souls. Even now that she has been freed, I cannot come for her soul, I
cannot give her the bliss of death." 

The bony finger shifted to point at Fey, "You must give her some means
of regeneration, or the first time she is slain, she will begin to rot,
but she will not die, and she will then exist to the end of time,
trapped in a decaying body, in an eternity of pain and suffering far
beyond what hell might offer. Make her body immortal, or you will doom
her immortal soul to great suffering."

Having delivered his warning, the figure disappeared. A quick mental tap
awoke the two teens. Ranma sat up, and immediately the nude girl wrapped
him in a strong hug, tears streaming down her beautiful face.

"Thank you, thank you, bless you Ranma!" 

Ranma was clearly at a loss. He had a naked girl in his arms, crying
profusely. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn't want to touch her
lest she get angry at him, and he didn't really want to say anything
that might call her attention to her state.

Luckily for him, Fey noticed his distress, and rather than teasing him
about it, drew up the threads of magic, and clothed her in chinese
clothing that matched what he'd seen Ranma wear that day when he and
Akane had come to Nabiki's dorm with the three Norns to confront Fey.

She pulled back, apologizing for embarrassing him, then looked down at
herself in surprise. She jumped up, and bounced over to the pool, and
stood looking down at her reflection in it for several minutes while
Ranma tried to collect his scattered senses. She turned and faced Fey. 

"Why don't I look like I used to?" she demanded, stamping her foot
angrily.

Fey sighed. "Because the only body I had to give you was the one the
springs gave Ranma. You look as Ranma would have looked at this age,
given his life, had he been born a girl."

She looked down at herself, then moved closer to Fey, glancing at Ranma
sadly out of the corner of her eye, and spoke quietly, that Ranma might
not hear. "You mean, we're like brother and sister. We can't . . ."

"No," he hastened to reassure her, "you don't share any heritage. The
spring draws on the natural appearance of the victim, but I changed the
genes . . . well . . . not all of them. Suffice it to say, if you have
children, they will be as they would have been if you, in your original
body had been the one to bear them, though all else is drawn from Ranma.
I rather suspected you might have that desire," he grinned at her, "so I
made sure nothing would stand in your way."

Her eyes widened, and she grabbed Fey in a strong hug as well, thanking
him quietly, before turning to bounce over to Ranma, reminding Fey that
he had forgotten a certain undergarment when conjuring her clothing.

Fey turned away, looking down at the small pile of ashes where he had
incinerated the soul-less, life-less body of the cat, and summoned a
light wind to disperse them across the valley.

Ranma stared at the girl as she bounced back over to him. Now that she
was not clinging to him, he was able to appreciate her beauty. He had
never gotten a chance to see himself while in girl-form, during the
short time he had possessed the form . . . at least, not from the
outside. She was beautiful . . . about a head shorter than him, petite
yet remarkably well-rounded. Her hair flared out like a fiery halo
around an elfin face with large almond shaped eyes of deep blue.

"Hello, Ranma. I am Xian Tal . . . or . . . I was . . .," her
cheerfulness collapsed suddenly, and tears brimmed in her eyes, as she
thought of all her friends, her family, long since dead and buried. "My
. . . my family, my friends, they are all dead . . . you are all I have
left. Will you let me come with you?," she begged him, eyes glistening
with unshed tears.

"Of course, Sha . . . Shan," Ranma stumbled over the pronunciation of
her name, and she giggled, and put a finger on his lips. 

"It has been a long time since any knew my name," she said sadly, "and
now I have your memories too . . . and we are going to Japan, so . . .
will you pick a Japanese name for me?" She had a sudden thought. "What
would your name be, if you were a girl?"

"Uhm, well, I dunno really, I mean, I dunno what they woulda picked, but
my name is Ranma, and I guess, the closest girl's name would be Ranko."

"Wild Child? I like it," Ranko enthused, demonstrating her pleasure with
a strong hug. 

A sudden thought hit her, as she realized a deeper implication of the
man's reassurance. This was not her body . . . would it still be capable
of doing magic? Without her magic, she was not much of a fighter. Maybe
that was different now that she had Ranma's memories, but she would feel
even more bereft if she could not access her magic, and she stumbled
back away from Ranma, staring down at her hands. She was trying to
muster the will to reach for her magic, but she was so frightened of
losing the last piece of her old life, the last thing left to her, that
she could not force herself to reach for it, and tears sprang to her
eyes, as her fear of loss overwhelmed her.

Ranma saw the tears in her eyes, and leapt forward to take her hands.
"What's wrong, Ranko? I'm sorry, please don't cry, what's wrong?"

"I . . .," Ranko began, but couldn't continue, and pulling away, ran to
the man who had freed her. "Tell me! Can this body do magic? I'm afraid
to reach for it," she said, eyes pleading with him, even as her mind
berated her for admitting to fear, "it's all I have left of who I was."

"Try," he replied, and she shivered. 

"But . . . But I'm . . ."

"Try," he repeated. She felt Ranma's comforting hands on her shoulders,
and she stilled herself. She could not afford to show such weakness, she
was an Amazon, and besides, she had Ranma. Even if she did not have her
magic, she had Ranma. 

Fighting back her tears, she focused on her hand, and reached deep
within herself, forcing her mind to reach for the power in a smooth
practiced motion, ignoring all her fears and doubts. Her mind and heart
sang in triumph when her hand flared suddenly, yellow flames flickering
about it. They were not ki-flames, as had surrounded the man before he
had freed her from the pool. They were true, simple flames, and all
three could feel the heat of them. The flames seemed to blur, and Ranko
realized that she was crying again, out of relief and happiness.

Fey waited for her to regain her composure, then caught the attention of
the pair. He handed Ranma a large roll of yuan. "You must keep this from
Genma, if he should follow you. Head to Japan. Take a direct route, but
there is no need to hurry just yet. Train regularly." 

He focused on Ranko. "You have the knowledge, and this body, created
from Ranma's, has the muscle memory. You should be able to get up to
speed on his style of fighting very quickly. Please do so, do not let
this gift go to waste. In the same vein, however, the fact that you are
still capable of magic implies that Ranma might be as well. Try and
teach him. Oh, and do not go to the Amazon village!"

He focused on them both together now. "Most importantly, train with the
Neko-ken often. I will find you, when you are ready for the next step."

Before they could react or object, he vanished in a swirl of blue flame.
Ranma swore. "Kuso, I forgot to get his name!" 

From all around them, Fey's voice sounded one last time. "You may call
me Fey," he said, then repeated, "Do not go to the Amazon village." They
were both startled by the voice, not to mention the peculiar
sourcelessness of it, though they recovered quickly.




First Steps


Ranma turned now to Ranko, knowing that he had to talk to her, had to
discuss what they were going to do, but not knowing how to do it. The
mere thought that after all this time doing what his father said, he
now had to fend for himself, as well as protect this young girl, whose
knowledge of the world was either fifteen hundred years out of date, or
second hand from himself, was terrifying.

He fought in his mind for something to say, but found his attention
caught by the glistening tracks of the tears on her cheeks, slowly
drying. He knew little enough about girls, and had no idea why the sight
of her tears had affected him so viscerally, yet somehow seeing her cry
made him feel a strong desire to protect her, to shield her from
anything that might make her cry, and a dread of causing her to cry
himself. Where were these feelings coming from?

Ranko, for her part, was happy to turn her attention to Ranma. Fifteen
hundred years ago, she had been a reasonably strong Amazon battle-mage,
though by no means the strongest in the area. Her memories of that time
had two distinct veins of emotion running through them. A powerful
stream of confidence in her own battle skills was primary, but it was
met and countered by an equally strong thread of depression rising from
her failure to find a strong male who could defeat her. 

She had detested the weak males around the village, their wills broken
from childhood, and longed for someone who could meet her on an equal
level. They were rare in the village even then, but there had been those
few warriors who had outsider males, and the two warriors she most
admired were among them. They had not broken their mates, but met them
as equals, and if anything, they were admired all the more for it in the
village, that they could handle marriage to strong men who refused to be
broken. They were honored for it, for they took the more difficult path,
and in so doing, blessed their children with the strength of two strong
parents.

Now, she had Ranma, and from his memories she had come to admire him.
Indeed, from her perspective, the memories Fey had given her were far
more important for the understanding of Ranma that came with them than
for the skills and knowledge that they had imparted. 

Because of those memories, she knew the training that he had been
through, and surpassed, and to her amazement, it was beyond what even
the best Amazon warriors were subjected to. He was a truly strong male,
and his pride would never let him be broken, never allow him to be
subservient, but at the same time, she could see the endearing
vulnerability in him. From his memories it was clear that he had an
overwhelming fear of loneliness, of rejection, and a powerful need to be
loved.

She had little doubt that he would be hers, for he would meet no-one who
could understand him as she could, and most of those who might have the
potential to learn to love him would be put off by his rough exterior,
by the complete lack of social skills he had gained from his father.

Ranma looked at her for a long moment, waiting for her to speak, as he
had no clue what to say. When she did not speak, but simply watched him,
her eyes traveling over him in a fashion that made him uneasy, though he
didn't know why, he finally gave up, and hoping that she would not react
to badly to his ineptness, he tried to think of her as just another guy.
What would he say if this were his childhood friend Ucchan?

"So, uh, I guess we should be going, huh? My pack's over there." He
pointed across the field of pools.

"Alright," Ranko replied. 

He waited a moment, not sure if he should respond, then decided it was
too hard to think of her as a guy when he was looking at her, realizing
how beautiful she was, with that hair, and those eyes, and gah! What was
he thinking? He turned away, and started walking towards his pack,
hoping that she would follow without making him say anything else. He
felt flustered, and his cheeks felt hot, but well, what was he supposed
to say? "Baka Oyaji, how come you never told me nothin' about girls?" he
silently groused.

They weaved their way carefully through the pools, both dreadfully
conscious of their dangerous closeness, though the locus of their fears
differed. For Ranma the fear was that he would fall in and his humanity
or his manhood would be stolen away again, as his mind replayed for him
the horror of discovering that he had become a girl. For Ranko the fear
was far greater, and it took all her willpower to follow Ranma through
the pools, for in each one she knew that some poor spirit was trapped as
she'd been. What if they desired vengeance against the one who had
escaped? What if the magic that fueled the springs reached out to take
her again?

They walked through their fears, and came out unscathed, to stand over
the two large packs. Ranma paused as he was about to lift his pack to
his back, staring at his father's pack. "Oyaji . . ." Memories of the
ten years rolled through his mind, and this time it was the pleasant
memories that assaulted him. He thought of the nights under the sky
filled with an endless stream of stars, a sky that most people, living
within the light polluted cities, would never see. He thought of the
clear mountain air as he walked with his father through beautiful
forests, of the cold clear mountain streams and pools they would bathe
in, of the waterfalls he'd seen.

Ranko watched him and from the expression on his face, divined the 
course of his thoughts. It amazed her, knowing all that he had been
through, that he still apparently had strong feelings for his father
and was able to remember the good times he'd shared with the old man.
She knew, of course, of his fear of loneliness but sensed that this was
something deeper. After all, what teenage male could feel loneliness
because he was trading in an abusive old man for a gorgeous female
companion his own age? No, this was true emotion. Clearly he still
loved the old bastard. Ranko feared that his love for his father would
yet be the cause of further trouble for them both.

Unbeknownst to the two, a portly figure had shadowed their passage
through the pools, and even now was watching from beyond the guide's
hut. This was not a figure with a bandanna and tattered gi, however, but
a figure that neither teen had yet encountered or seen, the Jusenkyou
guide. 

He was in something of a quandry, for it was his clear duty to guide any
who accidentally encountered the waters of the Nyannichuan to the Amazon
village, where they might receive guidance, lest they fall into the
hands of the Musk.

He had been near enough to hear the voice of the winged man twice 
warning the two teenagers not to go near the Amazons, but the Amazons
would be wroth with him if they learned that the spirit of the Amazon
who had drowned to create the pool had been resurrected, and he had not
guided her back to the place of her birth. 

He frowned in indecision for a time, until the sound of a splash caught
his attention, and looking up, he realized that the teens were gone, and
that someone had just landed in a pool. He hurried towards the sound,
worried that the victim might drown before he could get there, for it
was some distance away, near the base of the cliff, about where the path
from the cliff-top opened out into the valley. 

As he reached the vicinity of the pool, he recognized it, and paled,
even as a massive black wolf erupted from the disturbed waters. The
victims of the pools were often distraught upon emerging, and whenever
the form taken was that of a large predator, there was the chance that
in their emotional turmoil, they would act on the animal instincts that
they might otherwise have been able to resist.

The guide was very nervous, therefore, as he approached the disturbingly
large beast. He leapt backwards in fear when the beast shook its coat
vigorously, sending droplets of the dangerous water flying in every
direction. There were two reasons for the Guide's fear. First, of 
course, was the water itself . . . it was not likely that enough water
would be present in the spray to cause a curse, but then, no-one really
knew how much was required. The main reason, though, is that the
victim's reaction had been very in character for a wolf, which indicated
that there was a strong probability that the victim had succumbed to
instinctive behavior.

The guide approached very slowly, trying to appear as non-threatening as
possible. This was always the worst time. Sure, it was terribly
frustrating to watch customers fail to heed his warnings and become
cursed . . . but that frustration was nothing compared to the genuine
danger present whenever he found a victim without having seen them in
their true form first. After all, the springs would affect animals as
well, and coaxing the victim to the hut to apply hot water was never
easy. The victims were generally incoherent, so it was rarely possible
to be sure via simply observation whether the victim had been human or
not. He did not fancy introducing the victim to hot water only to
discover that it had been a tiger, or a poisonous snake, or a wild boar,
all three of which had happened to him on at least one occasion.

Before he could capture the creature's attention, it had turned back to
the pool, and with its teeth, grabbed the strap of a backpack lying
partially submerged at the edge. The wolf dragged the huge pack from the
waters, then stilled, unmoving, not reacting in the least to the guide's
approach.

The guide had seen this before, too. The victim had gone into shock.
That was a good thing, as was the backpack, as they indicated a human
victim, though of course, the shock was certainly not a good response in
and of itself. It was unquestionably a common one though. Indeed, the
responses of the accidentally cursed seemed to vary between two common
reactions . . . the victims generally either went into shock for a time,
becoming unresponsive as they struggled to assimilate what had happened
to them, or, if there was someone present upon whom they could vent
their anger, they would become violently angry, as if sheer vituperation
and violence could repudiate their curse. 

The guide waited patiently, knowing that there was little he could do.
If the victim had become something smaller, the guide could have carried
the victim to the hut, but with the size of this wolf, there was no
chance of that. He would simply have to wait until the victim got over
the shock on his or her own.

Finally, the wolf stirred, and the guide moved forward slowly. Seeing
the wolf fix its yellow gaze upon him, the guide gulped, and spoke,
softly. "Do you understand Mandarin?"

Seeing no reaction, the guide tried several more languages, before
getting a positive response when he tried Japanese. That was certainly
curious . . . while it was not uncommon to have foreigners show up at
Jusenkyou, it was rare for foreigners from the same country to show up
the same day, unless they were in the same party. He wondered if this
victim might be connected in some way to the strange pair that had just
left.

He had no way of knowing how right he was. The victim, in fact, was none
other than Hibiki Ryouga, the 'Lost Boy,' who had been following Ranma,
after failing to meet up with him in time to have their fight. He had
known Ranma in school, where they had met in fights over bread in the
cafeteria. A strange mixture of friendship and rivalry had built up
between the two, both of whom were martial artists. 

Ryouga had issued a challenge, and named the time, and place, a lot
behind his house. It had taken him longer than he had anticipated to
reach the lot, and Ranma had been gone.

In another time, another world, one where Fey had not intervened, Ranma,
in his female form, chasing after his father in a blind rage, might have
passed by Ryouga on the cliff top, from which Ryouga would have fallen,
landing in a spring and becoming a small pig. 

The travel from Japan to China was as nothing to Hibiki, who, due to his
painfully poor sense of direction, traveled constantly. The curse, on
the other hand, would have turned an otherwise pleasant search into a
nightmare, as cold water would seek him out, and he would be forced to
flee time and again, as he was seen as free meal by those he came upon. 

By the time he caught up with Ranma a second time, the horrific
experience would have built up his anger until he was no longer rational
with respect to his rival and former friend.

This time, though, Ryouga made his own way into a pool, and it was one
which, as he learned more about it, would affect him in very different
ways. While a wolf would be hunted under certain conditions, it was
well-suited to avoiding notice in the region he first found himself, and
most importantly, it could defend itself much more effectively than a
small piglet.

When the guide finished demonstrating the curse, in the small hut, and
explaining the triggers, Ryouga's constant depression had eased
somewhat. The guide, recognizing the signs, had spent some time listing
the pools he knew of, describing them in such a way that even Ryouga
could feel some gratitude that he had fallen in the one he had, and not
some of the others.

The thought of them made him realize that if he had followed Ranma here,
then there was a good chance that Ranma had been cursed. Ryouga growled,
thinking of the boy's no-good father, remembering the ground at the
empty lot where he had intended to meet Ranma. He had talked to one of
the neighbors, and been told that the boy had waited there for three
days, showing up soon after sun-up, and not leaving until the sun fell
again. The ground had shown signs of a struggle. 

The simple fact that Ranma had waited three days, and the presence of a
struggle, had convinced Ryouga that his rival's father had forced him to
leave. If Ranma had waited three days, surely he would have waited four.

When he asked the guide about it, he learned, to his horror, that a boy
matching the description of Ranma had indeed been seen at the pools a
few hours before, and had fallen into the Nyannichuan. Ryouga shuddered,
picturing turning into a girl.

Ryouga felt the last dregs of his anger at Ranma draining away. During
the short time he had been a wolf, he had reveled in the heightened
senses, in the way that scents seemed to make paths on the ground . . .
he had successfully followed the guide to the hut, by following the
guide's scent, and he had not gotten lost, in spite of the ease with
which he normally did so. It had been strange, the way there were no
colors, but the almost visible smells had made up for the lack. His
hearing had been much sharper, and the body had felt powerful. It was a
curse, to be sure, particularly given the way the guide described the
trigger . . . but it was one he could live with. 

To turn into a girl, though, to have all his strength taken away, his
manhood gone, his balance stolen, seemed horrific. He wondered how long
it would take Ranma to regain his center. From the description the guide
gave, it sounded like Ranma's father had left him, which didn't surprise
Ryouga much. He had never had much respect for Ranma's old man.

The guide said nothing about the second man that appeared, or the
apparent cure. He knew well enough that there ordinarily was no cure for
the curse of Jusenkyou, and he felt certain that the winged man had had
some reason for what he had done. He was also familiar with the 
obsession victims could develop regarding cures to their curses, and did
not want this young man to waste his life in that way, so he held his
silence.

Examining the sky outside, the guide decided that his explanations to
the young man had taken too long. Insufficient time remained to reach
the Amazon village before nightfall, and he had no desire to approach
the village after dark.

It took some doing, but he managed to convince the boy that the Amazons
would be able to help him with his curse, though the guide was careful
not to imply that they could offer a cure. In any case, it was
sufficient to convince the youth to camp by the hut for the night, and
in the morning, let the guide bring him to the Amazon village. 

The guide hoped that by bringing in this youth, he would appease the
elders. He knew that it would not be sufficient to buy forgiveness for
having been unable to stay the Nyannichuan cursed youth, but this
Japanese boy seemed to know the other, so hopefully, the aid he could
offer in finding his friend would be enough to placate the elders and
have a meliorating effect on his own relationship with them.

As he pitched his tent, Ryouga's thoughts were on Ranma. The thought of
what might have befallen his one-time rival was causing Ryouga to
reevaluate how he felt about the boy. Unable to feel any anger towards
Ranma, who had already, it seemed, been punished far more thoroughly,
not to mention harshly, than Ryouga had ever intended, he found himself
looking back on the events of their brief acquaintanceship in a new
light.

To be sure, Ranma was a jerk, always taunting and insulting, and 
constantly wearing that annoying supercilious smirk, but he was a 
genuinely good martial artist. 

Furthermore, there had been no need for him to lead Ryouga back and
forth to school. Granted, Ryouga had not really thought of it as
leading, at the time, as he had generally been in a state of rage
chasing a taunting Ranma, but in the light of hindsight, Ryouga realized
that, infuriating as it had been, it had also been the longest stretch
of time that he had attended school regularly in his life.

Whatever Ranma's reasons for his behavior, he had become a constant in
Ryouga's life, a fixture even in the short time he'd been there, and
Ryouga realized sadly that his following of Ranma had been as much due
to his desire for that constancy as to his desire for revenge. Ryouga
had become used to the insults . . . they had become part of his routine
. . . and he missed them.

He had to admit that he had never improved so swiftly in the art as when
Ranma had fought him. He had never had an equal or near equal sparring
partner for any significant period of time before, and he recognized
consciously, finally, what he had already subconsciously realized . . .
he needed it, needed that rivalry, the constancy of Ranma's arrogance,
to give himself a target to work towards, if he wanted to continue his
steady improvement . . . which he did, indeed he did.




Coming to Terms


Some distance away now, Ranma and Ranko moved steadily towards the
coast. They were taking a route that avoided the comforts of society.
They had spoken little, Ranko respecting Ranma's obvious discomfort, and
his apparent desire to obtain considerable distance, though whether from
the site of his cursing, or from his father, she was not certain. She
was fairly certain that Ranma's avoidance of the roads, and the way they
kept turning aside to avoid the lights of the small towns they passed,
was due to his desire to avoid his father. 

She had his memories, and so knew well that after an event such as that
which had just befallen them, Genma would be in search of sake, as much
as trying to find them, and by avoiding the locations where he could
obtain sake, they increased the chances that he would give up on them,
or lose their trail, or at least be delayed by trips to obtain his
comfort.

When the sun disappeared in the distance, and the sky began to darken,
Ranma searched out a clearing. His moves were practiced, and required no
conscious direction, as he was well used to setting up his tent. They
did not always use them, sometimes choosing to sleep out under the stars
. . . but generally they did use them, as Genma was not one to chance
the discomfort of sleeping outside should rain come upon them in the
night.

It was only as he finished, that he realized the deeper implications of
having left his father's pack behind. There was only the one tent, and
there were two of them. 

"Uh . . . I . . . I'll sleep out here," Ranma said nervously, "You can
have the tent, Ranko." He did not wait for a response, being still
overly nervous about speaking to his beautiful companion, and instead,
hurried into the forest to begin collecting dry wood to make a fire.

Ranko's eyes followed his departure, and she grinned inwardly. It was
sweet of him to offer his tent, though she would rather have shared it
with him. Still, she knew better than to try to move too quickly with
him. Her best bet was the Neko-ken, in which his inhibitions, if what
Fey had said held true, would be reduced. 

She needed to avoid scaring him off, and at the same time, she had to
make sure he did not succeed with what he was trying to do, which was,
she felt sure, to see her as a buddy, as one of the guys. She wasn't
sure she'd be able to overcome it if he managed to start thinking of her
as a buddy, or even as a sister. She needed to make sure that he was
never in any doubt that she was a beautiful and desirable woman while
still not scaring him off.

When Ranma returned to the clearing, a fair stack of dry branches in his
arms, he was treated to the sight of Ranko, near the tent, stretching
her arms back over her head. The thought that this might be a deliberate
action on her part went over his oblivious head but that did not keep
him from noticing her full breasts, straining at the shirt, or the curve
of her neck, the slim lines of her arms . . . Ranko grinned to herself
as she watched Ranma's reaction out of the corner of her eye, and slowly
released her stretch, before turning to face him.

"Oh, Ranma, you're back," she exclaimed, as if she had just seen him.

He was startled out of his daze by her words, and flushed, as he
realized he had been staring. Avoiding her eyes, he moved to quickly
prepare the fire. He built up the sticks in a careful arrangement,
designed to burn slowly and evenly, that reflected his long experience,
but when he turned to his pack to get flint and steel, Ranko put her
hand on his arm.

"Let me," she said, and turned to the fire. Ranma felt the heat rise to
his cheeks at the touch of her warm hand on her arm, and hoped that she
did not notice. Of course, his hope was unfounded, as she had indeed
noted his response, which was exactly what she had hoped it would be.
She turned her head slightly to hide her smile of satisfaction. She
pointed at the sticks and a small flame appeared in the center of them,
catching the wood, and growing stronger. 

He was, as she expected, oblivious to her interest in him, and did not
recognize anything that she did as meant to entice him; nonetheless,
his body knew and reacted.

After they had eaten, they sat staring at the fire as it slowly died.
Ranko sighed softly, taking Ranma's continued silence to mean that he
was not going to overcome his nervousness at speaking with a girl
unless she forced it.

"Ranma, about tomorrow," Ranko began, then paused to force Ranma to 
respond. 

He looked up, eyes widening as he was struck by the gleam of the fading
firelight in her eyes. "Yes, Ranko?"

"I . . . I kinda get the feeling you'd rather travel for a while, before
we take time for training, right?"

Ranma looked down at his hands, and sighed. "Yeah . . . Genma's likely
to be after us, so I wanna try and get ahead of him." He looked up at
her, his face holding a vaguely questioning look, "I figure . . . I know
Fey said we didn't need to try and push to get to Japan, but I figure,
we push hard for a couple of days, it'll get us beyond Genma, and he'll
be slowed down cause he'll be askin' in all the towns after us, and not
hearin' nothing. 'Sides, he'll probably get drunk when he doesn't pick
up the trail right off. I reckon that day after tomorrow we can train a
bit in the morning, and then spend most of the next day trainin'."

He fell silent, realizing that it was the most he'd said to her since
she'd been . . . awakened. He felt nervous and embarrassed trying to
explain his reasoning. After all, it was probably all backwards anyway .
. . he knew he wasn't any great shakes mentally, and Fey had told them
not to push too fast, and told them to train hard. He looked down at his
hands, not wanting to see her reaction, but sure she was going to
object.

"That sounds reasonable, and it's about what I'd figured your plan was.
I thought of something to add to it, though . . .," Ranko said, careful
not to sound condescending, and pausing to again force him to respond.

"Yeah, what's that?" Ranma perked up, she hadn't shot him down . . .
maybe he wasn't as stupid as he sometimes thought.

"Well, Fey put particular emphasis on training with the Neko-ken,
right?" Again, Ranko deliberately paused, though her question had really
been rhetorical, and she certainly could have already said all she had
to say without waiting for his input. She wanted him to become
comfortable with speaking to her, to see that she wouldn't ridicule him,
and to build up his confidence in personal relations.

"Yeah, he did. But I really want to get some distance, first . . .,"
Ranma was a little more uncertain now. It sounded like she was
questioning his decision, but . . . hadn't she already said she agreed
with him?

"So, I figured, why don't we invoke the Neko-ken while we're traveling?
Not fight or anything, just get used to it. After all, part of the
Neko-ken, as I understood his explanation, is the influence the cat-mind
has on us, right?"

Ranma sat up straight, and Ranko cheered inwardly, as Ranma took a more
active role in the discussion. "I see what you're gettin' at, Ranko!
Learning to fight with the Neko-ken's good and all, but if we ain't used
to it, the different senses and reactions could throw us off. So we
focus on them first, till we get used to 'em, right?"

"Exactly," replied Ranko happily, gratified at this evidence that
Genma's foolishness had only hampered Ranma's knowledge, not his
intellect.

"That makes good sense, Ranko," Ranma said, nodding. Fey, watching from
a distance, smiled to himself.

"That's a good sign," he soliloquized, "Ranma has not been infected by
Genma's belief in the uselessness of the advice of women. And Ranko
clearly has a good head on her shoulders." He had been surprised to
discover that the spirit of the spring had been a magic-user, but it was
all to the good for his plan. After all, according to his understanding,
in the world Dr. Gero had come from, while magic existed, it was
generally not used to attack, but on a grander scale, that of wishes.
Ranko was a wildcard, an unplanned and unknown element, even to him, and
Fey decided that that was quite appropriate. After all, if Dr. Gero was
representing the forces of Order, and Fey, acting as the counter-
balance, was representing Chaos in this instance, it only made sense
for his plan to include chaotic elements whose influence not even he
could predict.

Ranko was staring at the dying fire when a sudden thought hit her. Sure
they had only one tent, and Ranma had offered it to her . . . but didn't
that mean that he had only the one bedroll, as well? If he didn't even
have a bedroll, surely he couldn't sleep outside . . .

It took nearly fifteen minutes of arguing, but eventually, a very
nervous Ranma entered the tent, and slid into the bedroll beside Ranko.
To her credit, she restrained her desires, only heightened by his bare
chest, though he had chosen to wear a pair of black pants to bed. They
went to sleep facing away from each other.

Ranma woke first with a jerk and shiver, as in his dream Genma threw him
in an icy cold stream. He realized that the cold was not imaginary, and
as the fog of sleep slowly cleared, he realized that Ranko had just
turned over, drawing the blankets off of him. He also realized with a
sudden rush of sweat, that he could still feel the slowly fading warmth
of her form where it had been pressed against his back. He shivered,
both at the cold, and in concern over what would have happened had she
awoken in such a position. 

He slid off the bedroll, and out of the tent. He moved to his pack, and
pulled out a shirt, pulling it on over his head. They were going to be
traveling today, so there was no reason to wear his gi. As he thought
about this, he realized that Ranko had only the one set of clothing. Fey
had probably planned for Ranma to buy her some more, and some supplies,
with that yuan he'd given Ranma, but he'd been absorbed by his need to 
get away from his father, and had forgotten to consider her needs. 

Ranma felt a sudden wash of shame, as he realized that in point of fact,
he'd forgotten the need to get supplies for her because he'd been  
deliberately avoiding thinking about her ever since they left. Sure, he
might be uncomfortable around her, but that was no excuse to ignore her
needs.

"Damnit," he muttered, "I shoulda gone by and got supplies for her. I am
such a jerk."

Fey, discreetly observing the pair, heard his comment, and realized that
indeed, Ranma had not thought to provide for Ranko's needs. Well, the
reasons he and Ranko had discussed the night before for not following
Fey's advice to the letter seemed sound enough, and implied the need to
avoid towns, so perhaps Fey should intervene. After all, it wouldn't do
to allow Genma to find them. Then again, his avatar did need to learn to
plan, and a confrontation with Genma might actually be worthwhile, as
long as it happened after enough time had passed for Ranma to gain a
little more confidence in himself. Perhaps it would be best to wait and
see if Ranma managed to come up with a solution. He could intervene if
it looked like Ranma wouldn't come up with anything.

Ranma looked back at the tent then loped into the forest. He returned in
short order, and prepared a new fire. Not wanting to wake his sleeping
companion, Ranma thought back to what she'd done the previous day to
light the fire. His incredible memory for fights and the arts kicked in,
as he analyzed what she'd done. It availed little. He tried hard, but
was unable to replicate her feat, and set about lighting the fire in the
traditional manner, with flint and steel.

Ranko awoke to the smell of tea, and exited the tent, still dressed in
the red shirt and black pants Fey had given her. She carefully
positioned herself where Ranma could not help but notice, and stretched
the morning kinks from her muscles. She felt his eyes upon her, roving
over her taut form. She finished her stretching and padded over to the
fire, dropping easily to sit near Ranma, gratefully accepting the metal
cup of tea he handed her. She held it in both hands, letting the warmth
seep into her palms, inhaled the aroma, then drank deeply of the green
tea. 

She smirked inwardly, as she watched Ranma set his cup down after
finishing it off. She hadn't told Ranma quite all of her plan . . .
Ranko embraced her cat soul, and immediately let out a loud meow. She
giggled at Ranma, who was instantly across the clearing and up a tree,
crouching on a branch, before his will caught up with his reflexes, and
he yowled back at her, dropping to the ground, landing easily on his
feet.

"What was that for?" Ranma demanded, then blinked in surprise at the
sound of his own voice, and the rolling r's.

Ranko finished off her tea and stood, stalking over to him. "Simple,
Ranma. If the Neko-ken is to be useful, then embracing it must be your
reflex, not fleeing. You've already built up that reflex, and it's going
to take some time to replace it. I was thinking that every so often, we
should part for a while, drop the Neko-ken, come back together, and
travel for a time. One or the other of us should re-embrace it, when it's
least expected, after our guard has dropped again. That way, we'll use
each other to build up the correct reflex."

Ranma nodded, then asked, "We have to separate to drop it, or the 
first to drop it would have to re-embrace because there's still a
cat present, right?"

"Yeah, basically."

"Hmm . . . I dunno, I think maybe we ought to work on trying to stay
together . . . if we can suppress the fear for just that long, that'd be
better than having to get out of each other's sight to drop it."

Ranko flashed a wide smile at Ranma, leaving him suddenly breathless.
He was really thinking this through, and it just made him that much more
desirable to her. "Sure, that makes sense. I guess we can try it, 
anyway."

As they cleaned up from breakfast, Ranma thought about his waking
realization, and came to a decision. Stopping Ranko, he handed her the
roll of yuan that Fey had given him. "There ain't much we need, Ranko,
but the next town we come to, you're gonna go in, and get you some
clothes, a backpack, and if you can, a tent and bedroll."

"Why are you giving me the money?"

"Simple. Oyagi's gonna be looking for a black-haired Japanese boy. He
might look for someone with your description, since he knows I was
cursed, but when he learns you spoke Chinese and are an Amazon, he'll
know it ain't me. We gotta get you some supplies, but I don't wanna
leave him any clues I don't gotta, so I'm gonna wait in the woods for
ya."

Ranko grinned and nodded happily. There were several good aspects to
this development. Not only would she get some clothes . . . though she
wouldn't look too hard for a tent or bedroll, sleeping pressed up
against his hard body was just too good to pass up, even if it meant
letting him fall asleep first . . . but Ranma was trusting her to do
this alone, showing that he respected both her intelligence, to handle
the money and the deals, and her strength, to defend herself should
anything happen. 

She knew, from Ranma's memories, all the bile that Genma had spewed at
Ranma about women, and how useless and weak they were, and she found it 
strongly mirrored what she'd been told as a child about the attitude of
outsiders, and she was inordinately gratified to see that her Ranma did
not share such a disposition.




Aftershocks


Xian Pu watched bemused as her great-grandmother rushed them both
through breakfast. Xian Pu had put forth considerable effort the day
before, winning the annual tournament, becoming the official champion of
the unmarried women of the village for the first time, and had expected
this day to be slower than usual, expected her grandmother to show
lenience. 

Well, Kho Lon was definitely being lenient and showing her affection,
but she was also insisting that they get ready in a great hurry. The sun
was still making its way above the distant horizon as Xian Pu and Kho
Lon made their way from the village. Kho Lon had refused to say a word
about the purpose of their trip through all the preparations and Xian
Pu was in a frenzy of excitement by the time they left the walls of the
Nichiezu village behind them. Was her great-grandmother going to show
her some new secret technique? Why else would they be going somewhere so
early?

It was not until they were a good hour away from the village that Kho
Lon finally broke her silence. "Xian Pu," she said sharply, catching her
excited heir's attention, "during the tournament yesterday, I felt a
strong surge of power from the direction of Jusenkyou. You did well to
win." Kho Lon cackled suddenly, then continued, "for I was able to
leverage your win into the right to investigate this phenomenon alone."

Xian Pu didn't have to think too hard about why that might be. She
squealed in excitement. "Do you think it might have been a strong man,
Great-Grandmother?"

"We'll soon find out, Xian Pu, we'll soon find out," Kho Lon replied,
cackling madly again as she hopped along on her staff beside her buxom
heir, who was unrestrainedly exuberant in her excitement. To herself,
she privately wondered if the power she felt was beyond her daughter's
abilities. In fact, she knew it was, it had felt nearly as strong as her
own aura. Still, that was what was needed... a truly strong male would
be required to defeat her great-granddaughter. Besides, even the 
strongest of men could be tamed by a woman's charms, and her heir was
well-endowed in that respect.

At the other end of the path they traveled, the Jusenkyou guide was just
beginning to lead Ryouga towards the Amazon village.

Kho Lon detected the approaching pair well before they came in sight,
but had no difficulty recognizing the aura of the Jusenkyou guide. The
two groups came together well on the Jusenkyou side of the path, as the
guide was finding it extraordinarily difficult to keep his customer from
wandering off. Their speed had increased about halfway, though, when a
sudden rainshower activated Ryouga's curse. Ryouga found following the
guide's scent to be easy enough, perhaps because it was something this
body could do on a subconscious level and was thus not short-circuited by
Ryouga's ever wandering mind. 

As soon as Kho Lon approached them, the guide began begging forgiveness.
Kho Lon silenced his importunings, and turned him about. As they walked
to Jusenkyou, the guide explained all that he had seen, having already
determined that the boy did not know Mandarin well enough to follow
their fast speech.

Kho Lon made the guide go over his description of the winged man several
times, as she compared his description to the winged people of Pheonix
mountain. If Saffron were on the move again . . . but the guide's
description was clear enough that she felt confident that it was not one
of the pheonix people. The man, according to the guide, and he well knew
what would befall him if he were mistaken, had shown no other avian
characteristics other than the wings. 

Once she had ascertained that it was not one of Saffron's people, she
moved on to the meat of the matter. The Joketsuzoku had over three
thousand years of experience with Jusenkyou, and in all that time, never
had a cure been found. 

The description of this winged man simply and without any elaborate
preparations, materials, or powerful magical items splitting a cursed
individual and raising a dead spirit held bound by Jusenkyou back to
life, was beyond belief. Yet she had no reason to doubt the guide . . .
he knew far too well the cost of lying to the Joketsuzoku. The magic of
Jusenkyou was powerful beyond measure, and the implications that had for
the power of this winged man put him above even Saffron, the immortal
god-king of Pheonix mountain.

When she asked about the cursed boy traveling with the guide, the guide
was quick to warn her of his peculiar difficulty with directions, lest
she think to bring him into her tribe and then blame the guide for the
boy's failings. Having thus protected himself, he went on to explain
that the boy, in wolf form, had had no difficulty following himself, and
that furthermore the boy was apparently acquainted with the victim of
the Nyannichuan.

Kho Lon accepted the guide's frantic explanations and assured him that
he would not be punished for failing to bring the victims to the
Joketsuzoku. She herself was absorbed for the moment in the possibilty
that the apparent resurrection of the spirit of the spring had in fact
been what it looked like. The description of the girl setting her hand
on fire reminded Kho Lon of the old tales of battle-mages. Could the
girl who had drowned in that pool have been an Amazon?

Fey watched the quartet approaching the waters of Jusenkyou, and
wondered. Kho Lon had been an ally to himself, but he had never had
significant need of her abilities. To the Ranma of whose life he had
learned from the Nabiki who became his dragon-daughter, Kho Lon had been
both a most persistent and clever opponent, and something of a mentor.
To be sure, Ranma and Ranko could benefit from techniques such as the
Kachuu Tenshin Amaguriken, and the Hiryuu Shoten Ha, not to mention the
Bakusai Tenketsu. 

He had to consider whether he should take the risk that Kho Lon might
successfully draw them back to the Amazon village. Would that affect his
plans adversely? Did it matter, in the long run, where Ranma was
situated? Fey groaned. Of course it did! There was very little chance of
Ranma retaining the position of leading a group of defenders in the
Amazon village, with their treatment of males. If he had left him with
the curse, perhaps . . . but Ranma would not have been very happy about
that. Worse still would be the Amazon's interactions with the other
needed members of Ranma's team. 

Kho Lon in the other world had not managed to drag Ranma back to the
tribe, though, and that Ranma did not have the advantage of conscious
use of the Neko-ken. There was also Ryouga to consider. In Fey's world,
Ryouga was a friend of Ukyou, rather than Ranma, but in Tatsu-Nabiki's
world, he had been a persistent rival of Ranma. To be sure, that rivalry
increased the strength of both, but it also led to considerable
friction, and contributed to Ranma's eventual breakdown. Fey wondered
idly whether the breakdown he had sensed approaching had in fact
happened, or if something had occurred to ward it off. If he had known
then what he knew now about his interactions with the worlds he
encountered, he would have acted more directly to aid his counterpart
there.

As it was, he decided to leave well enough alone for now. He had heard
the conversation between the guide and Kho Lon, and was fairly
confident that Kho Lon would decide to follow Ranma and Ranko, if only
to learn how they had been cured of the curse. Ryouga would follow of
course, and in all likelihood, Kho Lon would bring Xian Pu along for the
opportunity to find a strong husband for her. 

Fey was uncertain whether Kho Lon would attempt to interfere in the
budding relationship between Ranma and Ranko, but decided again that not
trying to know everything about what was coming would of necessity be a
mark of the side of Chaos. All was as it should be . . . but that
thought brought in a memory of another manipulator he had once
encountered, and he worried over what her reaction to all this would be.

Leaving the group as they approached the grounds of Jusenkyou, Fey
ranged outward, reaching out to Pluto with his senses, drawing on his
divinity to obtain the range he needed. As he had expected, he detected
there a power, and intensifying the focus of his senses in its vicinity,
he detected a living presence, and translated himself to a nearby
position.

Fey was shocked at what he saw. Curled in a fetal ball a woman lay,
green hair hiding her face, a tall staff shaped like an old fashioned
skeleton key lying some feet from her. She was unconscious, and Fey's
senses told him that she was alive only because she was in Senshi form .
. . it seemed she had not eaten or drunk for an indeterminate period of
time . . . days at least.

He knelt beside her, feeling the heat of tears in his own eyes, as he
looked on her frailness. He reached out, and brushed the green tresses
from her face, and drew in a sharp breath. The dried tracks of tears
were visible, but went unnoticed compared to the gauntness of her far
too pale face. 

Reaching out, touched to the heart at her obvious misery, Fey drew her
onto his lap, and was even more distressed when she showed no reaction
to being moved. Holding her, cradling her in his arms, he bathed her in
a white aura, using the technique Ranko had taught him to heal her, and
at the same time, reached out across the dimensions to his kitchen in
Fey Castle, drawing back food and drink. 

As the warmth of his comforting aura faded, Setsuna awoke, tears
springing immediately to her eyes. Awareness returned slowly, and she
was deeply disturbed to realize that she was being held in strong arms,
and to smell well-seasoned meats. She shifted slightly, and a strong
scent caught her attention. She felt a light pressure on her lip, and
opening her mouth to protest, felt a warm liquid invade her mouth. Hot
chocolate . . . someone was trying to make her drink. She swallowed, and
allowed the person, whoever it was, to comfort her, to feed her, and
wash it down with hot chocolate. 

She knew, with utter certainty, that she was delusional, for she had
collapsed at the Gates of Time, and no-one could come there, nor were
there any who even knew, in this time, of their location, much less that
she was there, and so she did not open her eyes, fearing to dispell the
comforting illusion.

Finally the feeding stopped, and she was simply held, rocked back and
forth in strong arms, as someone murmured comforting nonsense in her
ear. Setsuna was a strong woman, in spite of having given in to her
grief, and she eventually decided that illusion or not, it was her duty
to guard the gates, even when doing so had become so hopelessly futile,
and she strained to open her eyes. They had become encrusted with her
tears, however, and refused to open. She reached a hand towards her
face, but it was caught in a strong hand, and she felt a warm wetness on
her eyes, as her illusion carefully wiped the sleep from her eyes. 

Finally, her eyes were free, and she opened them, to look up into the
deepest blue eyes she had ever seen. She lost herself in them. Her hand
was released, and she brought it up to the illusion's face, drawing back
slightly, pulling her eyes away from those blue orbs, to take in the
face of her comforter. He was handsome, was the first thing she noticed,
as her hand rested on his cheek.

"Who . . . ?" She breathed out slowly, confused, and wondering why the
delusion was not dissipating, and was showing no signs of being a dream. 

"I am the Lord Fey, Pluto, and no, you are not dreaming," the apparition
replied, in a warm masculine voice.

Setsuna leapt to her feet, staring down at the man, realizing with a
sudden sense of despair that not only had the destined future been
somehow destroyed by an act she could neither find nor alter, but
someone had penetrated to the very Gates of Time, and she did not have
her staff to defend herself. The adrenaline that knowledge gave her was
not enough to sustain her, however, and her legs quavered beneath her,
threatening to spill her.

A moment later, she calmed. She had been completely out of it, that much
was clear. Had this man intended to manipulate the gates, he could have
done so without the slightest concern. A second wave of despair hit her
when she realized that he might very well have done so, before rousing
her, but she thrust it aside. The future was death anyway, nothing he
could do would have mattered, for the destined future had already been
lost. 

Fey watched as differing expressions flashed across her face, until she
finally settled on wary curiousity. 

"How did you get here?" she asked softly, looking about, and noting the
position of her staff. It looked like he had not moved it, which implied
that he was either not planning on giving her cause to use it, or simply
had no reason to be concerned if she did.

He responded, but not to her question. "I assume your condition just now
was due to the bleakness of all possible futures?"

She nodded sadly, knowing that it could do no harm for him to learn of
this. What did knowledge of the future matter, when every path was death
and destruction? "Something happened," she said, her voice catching in
her throat, "and the future changed. It ends . . . in a little over
thirty years . . ."

She cried out suddenly, as if defending herself from accusation, "I
tried! I tried everything," she sobbed suddenly, but continued through
her tears, "I searched the possible future day after day, but nothing
made any difference. Every future is dark, they're all dark!"

"Look again."

Setsuna paled and shook, "No, no, I can't, it hurts too much. I've seen
too much death already!"

"Look again." Fey's tone was gentle, cajoling. He held out a hand, and
her time key shifted, and rose from where it lay to stand in the air
before her, waiting for her to reach out and grasp it.

"Well," she thought to herself wryly, "at least now I know why he didn't
bother to move the staff further from me."

She reached out a wary hand, and closed it about the staff, feeling only
the vaguest sensation of comfort at the familiar feel of it, before the
certain knowledge of the future drove out all pleasant sensations,
leaving her filled with nothing more than a choking emptiness that tore
at her. "No! No, I can't, I can't look again, you haven't seen it, it is
too much to bear!" 

Tears fell from her eyes again, as dread of what was to come stripped
her of the ability to act, knowing that he would force her to look
again, to see again the death of all she knew, the destruction of all
that was to be.

"Very well," Fey said, his voice still gentle, and his acquiescence
sent a wave of relief crashing over her, driving out for a moment the
terrible emptiness. "Then lock the gates."

Her eyes widened, and she wondered why he desired such a thing, and who
he was to ask it of her, but it made sense. If she could no longer bear
to look into the future, then the gates were useless. Rather than
standing guard over them, she could seal them.

She nodded jerkily, and spun to face the gates. As she approached them,
she shivered spasmodically, and Fey strode to take her shoulders,
offering her strength and comfort and she drew on it gratefully,
feeling the loneliness of millenia ease, as she abdicated the burden of
decision for the first time since she took up the mantle of the Senshi
of Time, so very long ago. With his hands still upon her shoulders, she
touched the key to the Gate, and under her breath, she whispered the
words of sealing. 

The swirling mists of the Gate's opening dissipated, as the great doors
swung inward, sealing the archway. To her surprise then, she felt a
surge of power from behind her, and silver chains bound the Gate,
slithering about it, winding through the handles, and sealing the
opening a second time. Somehow, Setsuna knew that the Key of Time would
not be enough to undo those bonds, and she wondered again just who this
was, standing behind her, still offering her strength.

"May I have the honor of your name, Lady Pluto?" Fey asked softly, hands
still resting on her shoulders. She turned in his arms to face him.

"Tell me who you are, first. I have your name, but that explains
nothing. How did you get here? How did you even know there was a here?
Who are you!?" Setsuna's eyes betrayed her confusion. After all, it was
all over anyway, so why had he come? What purpose could it possibly
serve?

"Very well, Lady, I will tell you. I am the Dragon Lord Fey, God of
Chaos, Balance, and Change." He smiled gently, as her eyes widened in
disbelief. "I was sent to correct a change that was made in this
universe by a powerful, malicious entity. There are rules, though, that
bind my actions. Yet had you been willing to look, you would have seen
that there are now paths to the future that do not end in darkness."

Setsuna's eyes widened more than Fey would have thought possible, and
tears sprang to her eyes as she spun to face the gate, understanding now
the reason for the extra chains. She had been given her chance to look
on a brighter future, and she had thrown it away. She buried her face in
her hands, sobbing softly.

Fey reached out, grasping her shoulders, and drawing her back against
his body, whispered into her ear, "Yes, Lady Pluto, you have given up
your chance to see a brighter future before any other. That does not
mean that you cannot see it . . . you will simply have to walk through
time to get there. Will you? Will you help bring about that brighter
future?"

Setsuna sighed, drawing her hands away from her face, though tears still
dripped slowly from her eyes, and she reached up to take his right hand
in hers, and draw it down in front of her, clasping it in her hands. She
had felt a strong momentary surge of disbelief when he claimed to be a
god, but looking on the chains with eyes that had millenia of experience
with magic, she could sense the incredible complexity, and yet the
elegant simplicity, of the bonds that held closed the Gate of Time, and
she could no longer find it within her to doubt him. A God! A God, a
literal God, had come to her aid, when she thought she was beyond all
help. How could she not hope?

"Yes, Fey-sama, I will do all that I can," Setsuna promised fevently.

---

Fey focused on the current location of the Goddess Urd, this universe's
Urd, who was neither the one who had taught him nor the one who had
briefed him. To his mild surprise he found her in Japan still. He had
put Setsuna back to sleep and made her comfortable, to rest, while he
got some answers about her, and when he found the location of Urd, he
immediately placed himself in her proximity, raising a shield as he did
so.

He was shocked and dismayed to find himself in the Morisato living room,
looking on as Belldandy sobbed in Urd's arms, while Skuld looked on
helplessly. An instant later he was the focus of their attention, as the
sudden sense of power shocked them to their senses. 

He flared his god tattoos quickly, barely in time to prevent Urd from
throwing the lightning she held ready, and Skuld from throwing her
Neo-Skuld bomb. He focused and projected a calming aura.

Skuld jumped in between him and her sisters. "Who are you?!" she
demanded, holding her mallet at the ready.

He bowed deeply to them. "I am the Dragon Lord Fey, God of Chaos,
Balance, and Change, First Class, Unlimited," he replied formally. "I
wish to speak to Urd, Goddess of the Past. I apologise for the
intrusion." Even as he spoke, he guessed the reason for Belldandy's
pain. She must have been told that Keiichi could not be taken to Asgard
to be spared the coming darkness, or perhaps he had refused to go and
leave his family behind.

Urd nodded to her sister, and Skuld slipped into place as Urd stood,
Belldandy being handed from one sister to the other. Urd strode forward,
swaying slightly at the hips in spite of her emotional pain, as Skuld
stroked Belldandy's hair and tried to comfort her. 

Urd led him to her room, and sat on the bed, staring at him. At any
other time, she would have enjoyed being in the company of such a
specimen. Not only was he possessed of a perfect physique, power rolled
off him in waves in spite of the suppression he had clearly placed on
it. This close, she could feel his power, and knew that he must be high
up in the ranks of the Class Ones, and yet she had seen the compassion
in his eyes when he looked on Belldandy, and felt the calming aura he
had projected a short while before. 

Not now though, could she indulge herself. She could not ignore her
sister's pain. 

"What is it?" she asked, tiredly.

"I wish to know of Sailor Pluto, why she was permitted to do what she
did, and whether is was within the mandate she was given by her Queen."

Urd sighed unhappily. Sailor Pluto was a sore spot with her. A woman
more in need of a good romance she'd never known, but she could never
get her close enough to a man to let anything happen, and the fall of
her kingdom had not helped. Now she was a thorn in the side of the
Norns, but not one they would act against.

"She . . . no. Her mandate is to guard the Gates, to prevent other
entities from using them or similar means to attack her worlds by means
of the past or future. She was never supposed to create a future . . .
it is too great a burden for any human, immortal or no, to be solely
responsible for guiding reality to a single future."

"I thought as much. Why then?"

"It's simple really, and so sad. I tried," Urd tried to smile, but it
was halfhearted, "I tried to get her to fall in love in the Silver
Millenium, but she fought it too well. She could not bear the thought of
love lost, and so she cut herself off from it completely. In spite of
that, she went through the very pain that a lover feels when her lover
dies, when her kingdom, her Queen, and all that she fought for was
destroyed. For a short time, she did as she was instructed, merely
guarding the gates, but inevitably, she took up her time by watching the
possible futures. She saw too much darkness, even in the futures that
were mostly light. There is supposed to be, as I'm sure you understand,
being the God of Balance."

"But she saw only the darkness, and became determined to eradicate it.
So over time she worked, trying to guide the future to a state of
perfection . . . ," Urd trailed off, sighing heavily.

"And what happened as a result?"

Urd shook her head unhappily. "Nothing good. The brighter the one future
she crafted, the darker the rest of the possible futures got. The darker
they got, the harder she tried to ensure that the one future was bright.
She built up a situation where if anything varied from her set pattern,
almost anything at all, her future would vanish, replaced by a horrific
future. Had she left well enough alone, she could have simply acted when
the future was heading towards the dark, and nudged it back to the
light, but as it is, she has set things up for a fall. Her own actions
have steadily increased the pressure on her, and correspondingly
increased the pressure that is to be placed on her reborn Senshi, for
the brightness of that one future also became matched by the darkness
the world would have to pass through to reach it, and the greater
darkness it would risk falling into along the way."

"We can do nothing about it, with the non-interference pact, but even if
we could, we would do nothing to her. It is so like one of the Greek
tragedies, she has created her own hell . . . there is nothing we can do
to her worse than she's already done, and no way to heal what has been
done that she won't fight."

"But now . . . now the future is dark on every line, or so Kami-sama has
informed us. Poor Skuld . . . it was her place to see that, to inform
us, but she is still learning her magic."

"Not so, Urd-san, not so. The future is not all darkness, not now. That
is why I am here, to restore the balance, to restore the threads of
possibility. I am raising up a pair of champions that will throw down
the darkness. I am afraid that the cycle is inevitable now, the cycle of
waves of darkness, but they are no longer guaranteed victory."

Urd stared at him, wide-eyed, then rushed from the room. Skuld and
Belldandy looked up, startled, when Urd raced to the phone, and began
dialing a long series of numbers. Fey walked slowly out after her, and
gave the weeping goddesses a comforting smile.

"Yes, I need to speak to Kami-sama, please," Urd said, crossing two of
her fingers surreptitiously.

"What? Yes, Father, he is here. He is? Truly?" Tears sprang to Urd's
eyes, and Belldandy and Skuld sat up straight, worried that she had
heard yet more bad news.

She hung the phone up slowly, and turned to face them, and they gasped
at her wide smile. "They're not all dark anymore!" she cried out, and
Belldandy gasped. 

"Truly?" she pleaded, wringing her hands.

Fey nodded, striding over to the couch, taking her delicate hand in his,
and lifting her up. He pulled a cloth from the air, and wiped her tears
away.

"I am not bound by the same rules you are," he said, "and I promise you
this, Belldandy, if the darkness comes and is not stopped by my
champions, I myself will bring Keiichi to you, no matter what stands in
my way. If I have to make him my avatar, or raise him from the dead
myself, I will bring him to you."

Belldandy's face broke into a glorious smile, and she threw her arms
around him, crying tears of joy. Skuld looked at him with a worshipful
gaze. She disliked Keiichi, but Belldandy's inconsolable sorrow had
broken her heart, and Fey had made her happy again, and that was all
that mattered. Urd herself had tears in her eyes. 

Even his assurances had not promised victory. After all, he was the God
of Chaos, he would not promise the outcome, he was the God of Balance,
he would give both sides a chance, he was the God of Change, he would
not accept a static future, but if he promised to bring Keiichi to her
no matter the future, then it didn't matter if the world was destroyed.
Her sister would not die with it, as she had so feared.




Building Trust


Ranma watched from the cover of the trees as Ranko picked her way
steadily down the hillside towards the small town below them. They had
spent a short while that morning discussing whether to go to the first
place they came too, or wait until the day was well begun, and the town
would be active. 

In the end, they had decided to chance the first town. She would
doubtless make more of an impression on the shop-keeper, but then, she
was not exactly suited to blending into the crowds anyway, and hopefully
they could minimize the number of people who saw her and could describe
her to Genma, and thus ensure that whomever he did find to describe her
would have met her, and would mention that she was a Mandarin-speaking
Amazon.

Though the hour was still early, the town was beginning to stir. There
were lights visible in a number of windows, and there was some movement
on the streets, a few people getting an early start.

Ranko was moving stealthily, dressed in all black, having borrowed one
of Ranma's black shirts. They had nothing that could conceal her hair,
but she intended to get into the village without attracting undue
attention in spite of it. 

She slid easily from shadow to shadow, still enveloped in the embrace of
the Neko-ken, depending on the stealth of the cat to guide her, for her
own experience as a battle-mage had included little in the way of the
hidden arts. She was a bit concerned about the possible reaction of any
dogs she might come across, and was planning on dropping the Neko-ken as
soon as she reached the city. That intent was as much because Ranma felt
it important that Genma not know that Ranma had gained conscious control
of the Neko-ken, as it was for the dogs, though she was also somewhat
concerned about the possibility that ordinary people would be able to
sense the Neko-ken, in spite of any attempts she might make to avoid the
obvious signs, as a danger sense of sorts, subconsciously perceiving her
as a dangerous predator, rather than a defenseless young girl. 

She blessed the extended senses the cat gifted her with when she sensed
a dog some distance away, yet still between her and the town. Focusing
on where her senses told her it was, she looked for a way to pass by it
without it noticing, then decided to not take the chance. Muttering
under her breath, she wove a sleep spell, and cast it at the distant
beast. Here again she thanked the cat spirit within her, for giving her
senses that not only increased her accuracy many times, but also let her
feel the dog succumb to the spell, collapsing into sleep.

She picked up her pace, not wanting the delay to worry Ranma unduly.
Though she was gratified by the degree of trust he had shown in her, she
did not want to chance triggering his protective instincts, sending him
into the town to save her. She knew well how he had been taught, and was
concerned that his trust in her might be merely intellectual, forced by
his knowledge that she had been an amazon warrior, or perhaps based on
the fact that she had his memories, and might be overridden by a
well-programmed visceral response due to his father's training and
blandishments.

Reaching the edge of the town, she looked up at the house in front of
her, and without really thinking about it, leapt to the roof, as Ranma
would have done. As soon as she landed, she paused, startled. What had
she just done? She looked down, gauging the distance in surprise. It
wasn't really something that would have been beyond her ability in her
past life, but it was nonetheless something she would never have done.
Her instinctual response in the past would have been to invoke a quick
spell, lifting herself to the roof. After all, why risk a misjump, and a
bad landing, that might result in a twisted ankle, or worse? She felt a
shiver of apprehension run up her spine, as she wondered just how deeply
Ranma's memories had affected her . . . or was it because this was
really Ranma's body? With his muscle memory?

She shook her head, clearing her mind of the distractions, and crept
across the roof. As she did so, she noted the way she was moving, and
realized with a sudden sense of relief that it might well have been the
influence of the cat-spirit that caused the leap, and not Ranma's
memories after all. She hoped that was the case . . . after all, it was
a lot easier to release the cat, than it would be to try to resist the
effects of Ranma's memories.

Crouching on the edge of the roof, she looked out across the street. She
could not yet see a store that might have what she needed, but she could
see the business area. A strong leap took her into the shadow of a
building across the street, and a second powerful jump propelled her
back to the rooftops. She continued roof-hopping, and in short order she
found herself in an alleyway beside a store that she hoped would have
what she needed.

She was about to walk out of the shadowed alleyway and into the shop,
when she realized with a start that she had not released the Neko-ken at
the edge of town as she had intended to. It was so comfortable, that she
had hardly realized she was employing it, but still, she had thought of
the Neko-ken as the reason for her leap to the rooftop . . . so why
hadn't she remembered to release it? She had been thinking of it, after
all.

Slowly, and a bit regretfully, she released the cat-spirit. She checked
her appearance, brushing her clothes free of the few twigs and leaves
that had caught on to her as she had made her way down the hill, then
sauntered out into the street, and slipped quickly into the shop.

The shopkeeper, a middle-aged man whose hair was just slightly streaked
with grey, a firm build showing natural strength, but little training,
a tired face that spoke of years of working long hours, and sad eyes 
that told of loss sustained, looked up from where he was rearranging a
display of farming equipment. 

He had inherited this shop from his father, and run it all his life. He
mostly catered to the local farmers, but he also ran a brisk trade with
the hunters that passed through. A fair number of the hunters and
trappers that worked the lower ranges of the Byankala mountains passed
through his town and stocked up, though the town got little or none of
the return trade. By shouldering the burden of transporting the goods to
the small city about seventy miles southeast, they obtained far better
prices.

He was surprised, given his usual clientele, to see a beautiful redhead
enter his establishment. He had no thoughts of declining to serve her,
or making a pass at her, though. His village was on the path the
Joketsuzoku used when heading to the coast, and he had heard many
stories of the Amazons. Looking at this delicate beauty, wearing men's
clothing, and walking fearlessly into his shop alone, and the way she
moved with such uncanny grace, he was certain she was one of the famed
Amazons.

He was about to stand and greet her, not wanting to learn what she
might do if she felt she were being ignored, but she merely nodded in
his direction, and slipped past a set of shelves and out of his line of
sight. Well, if she did not want to be waited upon, and would rather
find what she needed herself, all the better, for he knew nothing really
of how such a one would desire to be treated.

When she eventually approached the counter with a backpack, and several
other items appropriate to a traveler, he was unsurprised, having
already decided that she was probably an Amazon heading out on a journey
for some reason. Why she had chosen to stock up here, rather than
somewhere earlier on the route, he was unsure, but did not question his
good fortune, happily accepting her money, and silently thanking the
gods that he had managed to avoid giving offense.

Ranko exited the shop, cursing silently to herself. She had hoped to
have to make only the one stop, but while this store had had most of
what she needed, all of the clothing was sized for men, and she was
small for a girl.

She appraised the nearby shops quickly, selecting the apparel store that
looked the most likely to have her needs, then strode quickly across the
road. Thankfully there were few people on the street, but still, she
noticed the few who were out and about taking note of her. While she
found her new luxuriously red hair delightful, there was no denying that
it made it difficult to blend in.

Slipping quickly into the clothing store, she noticed with a twinge of
apprehension that the proprietor was a motherly figure, looking a little
over thirty.

Her concern was justified when the woman bustled over, and began making
comments about Ranko's beauty, and recommending dresses to bring out her
eyes and hair. It took Ranko several minutes to convince the lady that
she wanted more of the shirt and pants combinations like that which Fey
had given her. She did eventually give in to the lady's importunings and
purchase a silk sleeveless mini-dress. She did want to catch Ranma's
eye, after all, she simply had to make concessions to their traveling
necessities, not to mention the training they would be doing. 

She paid and left the shop, feeling intensely grateful to be away from
the woman's intense mothering. Unlike Ranma, Xian Tal had known her
mother all her life, and she had spent fifteen hundred long years
getting over the death of her family. She did not need yet more
mothering.

She looked around, noting that the number of people about, while still
low, was steadily climbing, and walked briskly into an alleyway. There
she reached inward, finding the cat and embracing it, then leapt to the
roof of the apparel store. Running across to the edge, she watched
carefully until the street was clear before leaping down and back up,
crossing the street in a pair of jumps. She repeated the process until
she reached the edge of town where she had entered.

She smiled, noticing that the dog she'd put to sleep was still out, and
made her way back up to the treeline, where Ranma stood waiting. She
noticed his shiver as she approached, and the sudden shift in his
stance, and realized he had just embraced the cat. He had been in the
Neko-ken when she left, since she had been. Obviously he had dropped it
. . . she wondered whether it made him uncomfortable.

"Any trouble?" queried Ranma, "I noticed you didn't drop the cat when
you reached the town . . . I thought . . ."

"Yeah, I . . . I changed my mind, no trouble though," replied Ranko, not
really wanting to admit that she hadn't even realized that she hadn't
until she was well past the town's edge.

He nodded shortly, clearly out of things to say for the moment. He
glanced down at the town, then turned and headed back into the forest.
She followed in silence, sighing inwardly. Getting him comfortable with
talking to her was definitely an uphill task. Perhaps it would become
easier once they started sparring and training.

---

When the small group reached Jusenkyou, Kho Lon admonished her daughter
to keep her distance from the pools of sorrow, while she verified the
guide's story. The guide headed for the hut, followed by Xian Pu and
Ryouga, who was still in wolf form. In the hut, the guide put water on
to boil, while the wolf watched eagerly, whining softly.

Xian Pu sat on a chair, sighing heavily. She had been hoping that her
great-grandmother was going to teach her a new technique as a reward for
winning the tournament . . . or give her some form of reward, anyway.
Instead, they were here at Jusenkyou, a place that gave her the creeps.
It was, after all, used by the Amazons as a punishment worse than death
. . . not the sort of thing you expect to be brought to when you have
just accomplished the greatest feat of your short life. 

Sure, Xian Pu knew she wasn't here to be punished . . . but the momentary
excitement of the possibility of a strong outsider male, strong enough
for great-grandmother to detect his presence across all the distance
between the valley of Jusenkyou and Nichiezu village, had been stunted
by traveling the rest of the distance with the guide, a dumpy fellow
who seemed a living reminder of the danger of seeking an outsider male.
After all, even such a one as he could defeat an Amazon with a stroke of
luck. Imagine getting stuck with him! It fairly turned her stomach.

The wolf too, she understood, was an outsider male, who had blundered
into the pools of sorrow, not even trying to train there, just an
accident. Not only was he so incompetent as to get accidentally cursed
at a place he had not even known existed, the guide had explained that
he had a truly terrible sense of direction, and was constantly getting
lost. 

No, if these were the examples of the manhood she could expect from the
outside world, she'd pass on them. She still held out a modicum of hope
for the man her great-grandmother detected, but from the sound of the
guide's story, assuming it wasn't just a drunken hallucination, the man
sounded like a legendary being, an angel, or transfigured dragon, or
maybe one of the Pheonix people, none of which Xian Pu really believed
to exist. She didn't want to marry a myth, she wanted a man!

There was the boy that the guide had described. From the sound of the
story, he would not be the one that great-grandmother had sensed, but he
must have some value, if so powerful a being came down solely to cure
his curse, which had never been done in all the history of Jusenkyou.
The problem with that was that Xian Pu felt sure that he would have
already been taken by the Amazon the guide said was resurrected from the
spring. Well, the guide hadn't actually said the girl was an Amazon, but
Xian Pu figured that with her luck, the girl would be, and since they
had gone off together, according to the guide, well, it certainly seemed
obvious enough.

She looked up as her great grandmother approached, having completed her
examination of the area by the springs. Khu Lon was looking far more
worried than Xian Pu had expected, and she felt a shiver of
apprehension.

Khu Lon stopped by Xian Pu, looking at her great granddaughter with
concern. While an excellent warrior, Xian Pu was headstrong, and
inclined to take risks that a more seasoned warrior would avoid. With
the destruction of the Nyannichuan, which Khu Lon had verified was no
longer cursed, the Musk would be turning their eyes once again upon
their ancient enemies in search of brides, and in search of revenge, and
the thought of her heir on the front lines, taking risks in the face of
the Musk sent shivers down her spine.

"Xian Pu," Khu Lon said, catching her heir's wandering attention. "It is
time we find you a strong husband, whether this Ranma be the one, or no.
We will go to Japan."

She glanced at the boy that the Guide had thought to use to lessen his
own pain, and dismissed him. He was unimportant. They could not afford
to simply follow the two cursed . . . or uncursed, as the case might be,
children, since the Musk would likely be doing likewise, if they learned
of it.

No, it was time to get her granddaughter out of danger and find her a
strong husband.




Learning to Play


Ranko tore through the underbrush, then leapt twenty feet to rebound off
a tree trunk, grinning madly. Ahead of her, Ranma leapt from branch to
branch, moving with a feline grace, and a power that kept him in the air
for upwards of fifty feet at a time.

Together they raced through the forest, startling the wildlife as they
tore through. Though this was meant for training, they were making
excellent time.

Ranma perked up when he heard a startled and plaintive yowl behind him,
and instantly redirected his momentum, barreling back the way he'd come
like a maddened pool ball, caroming off the trees with blinding speed,
and came to a sudden stop clinging to the tree trunk, supporting himself
with a single hand on the base of a higher branch that left him just
above Ranko.

She mewled piteously at him, but her eyes glared, daring him to laugh.
She'd managed to catch a short broken stub of a branch in the straps of
her backpack, and was hanging from it. Doubtless she could have gotten
herself down, but his reaction to her complaint had been too swift for
her to have a chance. 

He flicked out one finger, laying it against the branch, and canted his
head at her, giving her a playful meow. Her eyes widened as she caught
the implication, and she snarled, twisting towards the tree, just as he
flicked his finger, cleanly slicing of the branch. 

She stabbed out at the tree with her claws instinctively, as Ranma had
expected her too. He wasn't just playing around, or teasing her. They
both had to learn to correct the instincts of their cats. Some things
that a cat could do with its claws simply weren't possible when your
claws cut through anything that got in their way.

Ranko's eyes were wide indeed, and she yowled angrily at him, as she
began to slide down the tree, long curls of bark and wood peeling away
beneath her too efficient claws. She hissed at his bark of laughter, and
focused on her claws. 

Ranma silenced as her descent ceased and she scampered back up the trunk
towards him. He mewed questioningly, and she grinned at him, as she came
level with his branch. He gave a startled hiss when she slashed through
the branch supporting him, and he too found himself beginning a descent.

For just a moment he was tempted to simply kick off into a controlled
jump, but his ego stepped in. She had done it, so could he. He stabbed
his claws into the tree, slicing deep gouges, then focused on them,
until he came to a sudden bone-jarring stop. 

He grinned happily as he climbed back up to her level. When he reached
her and looked into her face, grinning, she moved forward, kissed him
quickly, then leapt away from the tree. He stayed still for a moment,
nonplussed, before shaking himself, and leaping to the pursuit.

The lead was swapped several times over the next hour. Ranma was leading
as the hour drew to a close, and coming upon a large clearing on the
side of a hill with a moderate slope, leapt for the center of the
clearing, and spun to face his onrushing pursuer.

As he spun to face her, he noticed that the clearing at the base of the
hill was lined by a thick patch of brambles, and he grinned at the
sight. It was a common factor that his father and he looked for in
sparring sites, some form of natural hazard, whether a spire of stone to
be slammed into, a cold pool or stream to fall in, or as in this case, a
nice patch of brambles, to add a bit of spice to the competition, and
take the sparring beyond the level of mere physical aggression.

Ranko appeared at the clearing's edge, and only barely held back from
throwing herself forward, claws digging into the tree trunk to hold her
back. 

She mewed curiously, eyeing him, then dropped from the tree to land
lightly on the ground and sat on her haunches, looking at him, waiting
for an explanation for his stillness.

He growled softly, a low rumbling challenge, as he crouched, tensed, and
raising a single hand, motioned her forward. She mewed an
acknowledgment, tensing her legs, then sprang forward, fingers
outstretched, ki claws safely sheathed.

He leapt as she neared, but she spun in midair as he sailed over her,
and she managed to catch his midriff with her foot, halting his momentum
rather precipitously. He was more ready for that than she had realized,
though, and had stolen his own momentum, burning it off with his ki, so
that even as her foot made contact, his forward motion had nearly
ceased. Since she hadn't been able to put significant force behind the
kick, it affected him far less than she'd intended. 

He folded over her leg, even as they hit the ground together, his back
contacting the dirt first, and he caught her side with his hands,
continuing the roll and sending her flying down the hill. 

She rolled to a stop inches from the brambles, and her eyes crossed as
she stared at the thorns, realizing that she'd fallen for his trap, in
taking the obvious attack against her flying opponent. 

She jumped again immediately, barely avoiding a second attack, for he had
not let up while she rolled, but had himself bounded to the attack again. 

They spent another hour rolling and leaping about the clearing, and both
impacted on the brambles several times. When they finally finished, they
spent several minutes finding and removing the thorns. Ranko
particularly enjoyed that. She was sure that Ranma would never have done
such a thing normally, but under the influence of the Neko-ken, he was
more susceptible to sensual pleasure, and so he permitted her to spend
time roaming his skin with her hands, looking for and removing the
smaller thorns, and particularly those that had broken off during their
continued tussles.

She also got the feeling that he would never have sparred so directly
with her if it were not for the Neko-ken, given how diffident and
apologetic he was after they came back to the clearing, having left it
to drop the cat-state without having to worry about sending each other
back into it.

Ranma for his part was quite abashed as he made their lunch, thinking
about how much he had enjoyed her attentions, her gentle hands running
over his skin. 

Just as Ranma finished his portion of lunch, Ranko went cat, embracing
it as lightly as she could. She was trying to work on his reactions, to
make his transition to the cat-state automatic, but at the same time,
she was indulging her own curiousity, wondering if she could keep more
of her human behavior while under the influence of the cat. She had
never given in wholly to the cat, as Ranma had, but if one could give in
to the cat completely, or share the mind with the cat, as they had been
doing, could she also get different degrees of cat?

She didn't feel much different, though Ranma's scent was immediately
more noticeable. He also failed to react. She tried to slowly increase
her embrace of the cat, but found it not as easy as she had expected,
and instead of the slow embrace she was trying for, she slipped directly
into the full embrace they had been using. 

Ranma immediately leapt away, but he had embraced the cat before
landing. He sat back, looking at her reproachfully and turned his head
away. She stalked over to him, and rubbed against him. He turned away,
but she slunk around him, rubbing against his other side, and he
relented, rubbing his cheek against her. 

She was about to pounce him, and initiate another spar, when the clouds
that had obscured the sun most of the day opened up, letting a strong
beam of sunlight fill the clearing. The warm sunlight bathing them just
after they finished a meal drove any thoughts of action out of their
heads, and in but a few moments, he was collapsed on his back in the
sun, and she lay bonelessly across him, as they luxuriated in the caress
of the sunlight.

Their distraction did not last too long, however, for a little more than
a half an hour later, the cloudy sky fulfilled its threatening promise,
and released a driving rain, startling them into wakefulness.

Ranma was a bit chagrined at having been so easily distracted from their
purpose, until Ranko told him of her attempt at attaining a partial
Neko-ken. The potential of deeper control of the technique caught his
attention, and they spent the next half day, as they walked further on,
discussing the techniques, and trying to control their depth of
immersion.

By the time they stopped for the night, Ranma had succeeded in attaining
use of the ki claws without deeper immersion. Ranko for her part had
managed to gain just the mindset and heightened senses. Ranma wasn't
certain that there was a point to that, but she pointed out that it
might use less ki, and thus be less noticeable. Besides, it was a step
in the right direction to getting just the heightened senses without the
mindset, which would be useful in populated areas. 

They also discovered, in their experimentations, that any immersion that
did not incorporate the mindset left them open to the fear, but did not
activate the fear in their partner.

At Ranma's suggestion, they both remained in the Neko-ken as they went
to sleep. Ranko was a bit worried about the possibility of the cat
waking up while she slept, but Ranma was focused on preventing the
methods that had been used to awaken him from the Neko-ken being used to
cut them off from the technique. 

So he wanted to work until they could retain the Neko-ken even while
sleeping, both to prevent sleep from being used against them, and
because of the potential benefits of subconsciously using the heightened
senses to protect them in their sleep. He also intended to work on
retaining the Neko-ken even while being splashed with cold water, a
technique his father had said sometimes brought him out. Not that it was
an easy thing to hit his Neko side with the water in the first place,
but if the Neko-ken was to be their ace against this dark force, they
needed surety that it could not be easily prevented.

When he awoke the next morning, he was not in the Neko, nor did he feel
any fear of her, meaning she too had lost the Neko-ken sometime in the
night, but his failure was expected, and besides, he had a more
important matter to think about. 

Specifically, the warm body that was pressed against his back, the arm
that passed under his own to clasp his chest, and the leg entwined with
his legs. He could feel her steady breathing against his back, and knew
she was still asleep, but he wondered how she would react to awakening
like this. 

Moving slowly, he brought his arm up, and clasped her hand, trying not
to think about how warm and small and delicate it felt in his, and
lifted it from his chest. 

He was just bringing her arm across his body when he felt her shift and
snuggle up tighter against him, then stiffen suddenly. He released her
hand immediately, and felt her leg withdraw slowly from where it wrapped
around his own. "Sorry," she whispered in his ear, and he heard the
sincerity in her voice. 

He was a bit surprised. His father had warned him that women would
always construe anything and everything to be his fault, and while he
had at least partially assumed that that might be simply his father's
experience, due to the fact that as far as he could see, everything
always had been his father's fault, he couldn't help but be afraid that
she would see this as his fault. That she would apologise to him, well,
that came as a complete surprise. 

"S'okay," he muttered, sitting up, but not looking toward her. He could
still feel that warmth against his back, and thinking of what it had
been made him flush. He didn't want her to see his blush, so he quickly
left the tent.

Ranko stared after him, wondering. She hadn't intended to move that
quickly with him, and felt a bit abashed at having been so forward. She
wondered if it had been the Neko-ken, for a moment, until she realized
that she wasn't embracing the cat. He hadn't objected. Maybe he had
enjoyed it as much as she had? She shivered, remembering the hard feel
of his muscles as she had pressed up against him in that first moment,
as she was just awakening.




Renewing the Choice


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."




Facing the Past


Ryouga sat by the guide's hut, staring at his pack. The old crone and
her beautiful but haughty young daughter had left to return to their
village, and not given him a second glance.

He had decided to try and find Ranma himself. He had come to terms with
the thought that Ranma was not at fault for leaving him behind. His
desire for vengeance had not eased, but his aim had shifted. The lazy
no-good idiot of a father was the cause of all Ranma's problems, and by
extension, Ryouga's as well. He could not seek his vengeance right now,
though.

Ranma was out there somewhere, alone, and cursed to turn into a girl.
Ryouga had heard Genma's vitriolic attacks on Ranma, and how often
Genma cursed Ranma as a weak, pathetic girl. He had seen, and himself
taken advantage of, how readily that particular insult could drive
Ranma to defensive action, so he could only imagine how poorly Ranma
must be taking this.

His current dilemma was yet worse. He needed to find Ranma, to track
him, and that meant his wolf form, and yet, he needed his supplies. He
could not bear to just leave his pack, and all his worldly possessions,
behind, which meant traveling as a human.

He had been sitting there, staring at the backpack for nearly fifteen
minutes, and he growled angrily as he realized he was getting a
headache. He leaned back his head and shouted to the sky. "Saotome
Genma, this is all your fault!"

Still muttering imprecations and curses, he hefted the pack, strapping
it to his back. He had managed to get to this accursed valley shortly
after Ranma. He would simply have to trust that his luck would hold, and
he'd manage to reach Ranma before Ranma cracked under the strain. 

Grumbling and cursing Genma, he stalked from the valley. He was headed
at first in the direction of the Amazon village. Luckily for his health
and sanity, he got turned around, heading for a while towards the Musk,
before finally wandering off in the direction of Japan.

---

The two massive humanoid felines paused in their play, when the larger
held up a staying hand. He sniffed deeply, turning slowly, trying to
find again that scent that had momentarily teased his memory. "Genma,"
he hissed and signalled Ranko. Both dropped their transformations as
one, then dropped the Neko-ken. The smoothness and timing of the move
clearly showed the time they'd been spending on working as a team. 

A quick gesture from Ranma sent Ranko leaping high into a tree, bouncing
upwards to hang high above, watching, ready to leap in, but out of sight
for the time.

Ranma waited a moment for her to get settled, then tossed first one,
then the other backpack up to her. She caught them, and slicing through
a wrist thick branch about two feet out from the trunk, she incinerated
the remaining extent of the branch in a single burst of power, then hung
the backpacks on the branch.

On the ground, Ranma winced at the flare of power, but had to admit that
he wouldn't have felt the surge of power with his ki senses had he not
been experienced with the feel of her magic. Still, he couldn't be sure
what abilities his father had hidden from him.

Fey watched from afar, ready to step in at need, but thinking that this
was a confrontation that Ranma needed.

The fat panda slowed in its approach, sensing that its prey had stopped.
Soon the boy would be his again, his retirement assured. He looked back,
snorting softly, but saw no sign of the wolf that had been dogging his
trail for so long. 

Just me and the boy, he thought, as he lumbered forward. Catching sight
of his son standing waiting for him, he unslung his backpack. Reaching
in it, he pulled out a thermos, and in moments was a man again. Stepping
into the clearing, he growled at the boy. "Ranma! You lazy,
good-for-nothing excuse of a son! Why didn't you wait at Jusenkyou for
me to steal you back?"

"Are you stupid as well as fat and lazy?" retorted Ranma, circling
slowly. "You started your stupid Crouching Tiger technique at the mere
sight of him. Why should I believe you would have come back for me?"

"I'm here now, boy," snarled Genma, irritated by his son's impertinence.
"Now come on, we're behind schedule. We've got to get back to Japan."
Seeing that the boy wasn't responding, Genma pulled out his ace. "Or
don't you want to see your mother, boy?"

"You lie, old man," growled Ranma, "you have no intention of taking me
to my mother, only so that we can both commit seppukuu. You hold your
skin too dear to honor such a vow!"

Genma paled. How the hell had the boy learned of the pledge? "You're
coming back with me, boy, whether you like it or not! You are my son!"

"Your son," snorted Ranma in disgust, "whom you sold as a daughter. You
make me sick, old man!"

Genma was a bit unnerved. This was not how he'd pictured this going.
He'd done everything possible to ensure that the boy had nowhere else to
turn, that he'd be dependent on his father forever. All that work could
not be so quickly unraveled, even by a man with wings. 

Genma looked at the open thermos in his hand. Was there enough left? It
had had time to cool, with the thermos open... Dashing forward, Genma
splashed Ranma, and danced back. "Are you a girl or a man?" Genma
demanded, "Have you no honor?"

Ranma chuckling low in his throat was not the response Genma expected,
and he started when he realized that Ranma had not changed. Damn, it
hadn't been enough.

"Do I look like a girl to you, old man? Perhaps you should have your
eyes checked," Ranma suggested, smirking confidently at the old man. His
eyes flicked for a moment past the old man, spying movement just beyond
the trees, something dark and low to the ground.

Genma seized the opportunity, fueled by his anger at the failure of his
ploy, and the teasing words of his son. When he noticed Ranma's
attention falter, he leapt to the attack, driving a flying kick into
Ranma's chest. Ranma flew backwards, crashing into the trunk of a tree. 

Ryouga snarled, seeing Ranma attacked by his bastard of a father. Ryouga
had been hit by rain shortly after noticing Ranma's father, forcing him
to abandon his pack to be able to keep the man turned panda in sight. He
had guessed correctly, the man had been seeking his son, and now he had
led Ryouga to Ranma.

Ryouga trotted forward, psyching himself up to attack Genma, who he was
sure was a better martial artist than himself, particularly in this
form. Still, he owed it to his friend to help him stay free of the
clutches of Genma. Also, he wanted to warn his friend. He had heard some
of Genma's plans, as the old fool had gloated to himself about his
retirement and Ranma's approaching bondage.

Ryouga and Genma were both startled when Ranma laughed aloud as he stood
from where he'd fallen, looking not the least bit hurt. "You'll have to
do better than that, old man." 

Ranma had discussed this possibility with Ranko some time ago. The plan
he'd come up with had included two primary facts as its basis. First,
whatever Genma was planning would be useless if Ranma was dead, so he
wouldn't use killing attacks. Second, Fey had a vested interest in the
fight, so he'd likely prevent it from going too far. Third, Ranko had
sufficient healing magic, not to mention Ranma's increased healing to
begin with, to allow him to take far more punishment than Genma would
expect. With those thoughts in mind, Ranma saw this as the perfect
opportunity to push his old man. He knew there would be techniques that
Genma had held back from teaching him, so that he would have something
to keep him in line. Ranma was determined to force Genma to use them.
They were, he felt, all that he had left to learn from Genma, and this
was the only way he would ever learn them.

"You're getting weak, old man, you hit like a girl!" taunted Ranma,
wearing his over-confident smirk again, the one that irritated Ryouga so
effectively. It worked just as well on Genma, who attacked again in a
flurry of blows. 

This time, Ranma was ready for the assault, and met him head-on. Ryouga
watched in surprise as the two bounded around the clearing, Ranma
clearly blocking every punch and kick Genma threw, the taunts never
slowing. Finally, Ranma slipped through Genma's defenses, getting in a
solid kick to the larger man's sternum, catapaulting Genma to the ground
while gaining greater height for himself.

Genma gasped in the breath that had been driven from his lungs as he
stood. Hearing Ranma's taunts falling ever faster, he roared in anger.
"I'll show you!" I sealed these techniques for a good reason, but I have
to have the boy. I can't let him get away, not after all this time, all
the work I've put into him. It's merely a testament to my prowess as an
instructor that I need these techniques to subdue him, that's all.

Genma waited until Ranma had landed near him, before shouting out "Don't
move!" Ranma was quite startled to discover that in spite of his
intentions, he could not move. This time, the blow that hit him slammed
him into a tree so hard that it snapped with an echoing crack. For a
moment, just a moment, Genma and Ranma both feared that his spine had
been snapped. When the tree fell and Ranma dropped back into a ready
stance, they both breathed sighs of relief, though Ranma's was tempered
by pain. 

Genma grinned in his head, seeing the signs of the pain Ranma was
feeling. It would not be long before his son succumbed. Ranma knew
nothing capable of defending against the Saotome Forbidden techniques,
of that Genma was certain.

With a loud cry of "Kijin Raishu Dan," Genma sent several vacuum blades
hurtling towards his son. He aimed carefully, to be sure that his son
would have time to avoid them. They were not meant to injure him, merely
to distract him, as Genma invoked the Goshin Dai Ryu Sei Fu, the
Body-Defense Shooting Star Cloth, becoming the next thing to invisible,
even to ki senses.

Seeing that his father had stepped up to attacks that he had never seen,
Ranma embraced the Neko-ken, welcoming the enhanced senses and reflexes.
He did his best to keep from letting the cat show in his stance and
movements as he dodged the vacuum blades with a single leap that sent
him fifty feet into the air. 

As he dropped back to ground level, he was hit with a hard blow to the
back sending him sprawling. He managed to avoid an unseen blow that
dented the ground by rolling to the side. He kipped to his feet, eyes
narrowed, as he sought to sense the invisible martial artist before he
struck again. He failed, taking a hard blow to the chest that sent his
breath rushing from his lungs. He dropped to his knees, and immediately
sprang forward, barely avoiding the leg he heard slam into the ground. 

High above Ranko watched nervously. She had not been expecting Ranma's
father to have such a devastating technique and could hardly restrain
herself from joining in the fight. Ranma had spoken to her though and
the intensity of his desire to face his father alone had been clear. He
had promised to signal her if Genma proved too much to defeat, so she
had to have faith in him.

Ryouga snarled in his fury, depression welling up within him. He was
useless, unable to help the one person who had truly befriended him in
his life, the person he'd come to depend on so much that he took his
very leaving as a betrayal, only to learn that that heinous act was
directly attributable to Genma, foul scum that he was. Now he was
helpless to aid his friend, for in the short time they had fought,
Ryouga had been reluctantly forced to concede in his own mind that Ranma
and Genma were both beyond his skills.

He would have joined in anyway and desperately wanted to, but after
Genma had vanished, Ryouga's depression had grown tenfold, as he
realized that no matter how much he desired to aid Ranma in this fight,
there was nothing he could do to help Ranma fight an opponent neither of
them could sense.

He whined in sympathy when Ranma was again sent flying courtesy of a
powerful but unseen kick.

Ranma groaned as he stepped away from the tree but shook off the pain,
leaping quickly before the imminent strike could hit. The tree shuddered
behind him and leaves drifted down from it in a slow shower. Ranma
rebounded from another tree, a slow smirk forming on his face. He'd
taken a number of very painful hits, but he'd finally found the flaw in
Genma's techniques.

Genma could barely contain his warring shock, pride, and anger when
Ranma deftly avoided his next powerful kick. Genma's follow-up strike
was easily evaded, as Genma had taken to ignoring his defense, and
focusing all his power in his strikes, knowing that Ranma could not
avoid him. He was completely open to Ranma's fists as Ranma slipped past
his punch, getting within his guard, and pounded mercilessly on his
chest. Ranma didn't hold back the force of his blows either, now that
his father was going all out; Genma felt as if he was being beaten with
a sledgehammer. "Kami, when did the boy get so strong?" he groused
mentally with a heartfelt groan, as he leapt backward, dropping the now
useless Umisenken technique.

Even as he landed he shot off another pair of vacuum blades then rolled
to the side before leaping at Ranma, aiming for about ten feet above his
position at the beginning of the move, expecting him to leap to avoid
the vacuum blades. He was correct in his prediction, but not in his
judgement. Ranma leapt nearly thirty-five feet straight up and was in a
perfect position to drive a hard kick into Genma's back as he passed
beneath, driving the larger man into the ground.

Ranma landed lightly nearby, the bruises of Genma's attacks already
fading. He stood tensed, poised on the balls of his feet, as Genma rose
unsteadily. Genma had recovered as quickly as he could from his son's
sledgehammer blows but still failed to regain the upper hand and when
Ranma began to taunt him for his slow rise, his anger crescendoed.

With an angry growl, Genma threw several vacuum blades as a diversion,
coming barreling in behind them. Ranma's smirk widened, angering
Genma still further. That was not the reason for Ranma's mirth however.
He was ecstatic at having figured out the secret to another of Genma's
moves and as Genma charged, Ranma leapt backwards and up, landing on the
side of a tree, even as he threw three vacuum attacks. His blades
scythed the air, causing loud explosions where they hit his father's
blades, each pair of blades detonating its store of ki.

Genma, having raced forward, was caught between the explosions and while
he was not noticeably harmed, he was visibly reeling from the proximity
of the sudden and terribly loud sound so near to his head. 

Ranma took advantage of Genma's momentary distraction to leap forward
and employ a ki-filled kick in mimic of Genma's first unsealed attack,
sending Genma flying backwards to slam into a tree.

When Genma arose, his face had firmed, his mouth thinned; he recognized
his error in allowing his son to anger him. Now he fought with cold
determination, intent on beating his son. He was so intent on his son,
and the attacks he was making, that he never consciously realized that
his son was picking up his sealed techniques nearly as fast as Genma
himself employed them.

Ryouga, watching from a distance through color-blind eyes, did not miss
the startling speed with which Ranma was adapting his father's attacks.
He rarely took more than five hits from a given technique before
successfully evading or countering the move, and generally managed to
use it effectively in retaliation in under fifteen minutes.

Genma continued pounding the Saotome Forbidden Techniques into his son,
until Ranma succeeded in his third attempt at the Goshin Dai Ryu Sei Fu.
Genma had created the two schools of techniques and was their master,
but he had never had reason to create a counter or defense against the
invisibility technique, and the pounding he received forced the
realization that not only had he in his foolishness unsealed the
forbidden techniques, he had just taught them to his son. It seemed
unbelievable to him that anyone could master the techniques so quickly,
particularly considering how painful and dangerous his training
techniques for them were. The main focus of his anger, though, was not
at the unsealing of the techniques, but at the loss of his one trump
card. 

He had never really wanted to kill his son, which was the likeliest
result of using the Saotome Forbidden Techniques, and had intended, when
thinking clearly, to use the techniques as a lure to draw his son back
to him, promising to teach them in return for obedience. Instead, he had
taught them to his son while failing to bring his son back under
control. Realization of his loss set in, and the broken man began
wailing about his loss of honor, and his son's lack thereof, when Ranma
interrupted him.

"Ah, shut up, old man! What do you know of honor? I can't come back with
you, you signed that contract, you sold me to that winged guy! I ain't
got no choice, my honor says I gotta do what he says now. It's your own
damn fault, old man!"

"But surely you knew I would be coming for you," protested Genma. "I've
sold you before," he continued, ignoring how foolish it was to point out
his numerous betrayals when trying to entice his son to return with him.

"You idiot," retorted Ranma, "you may be able to cheat everyone else you
come across, but you can't cheat the kami!"

"K..k..kami?" spluttered Genma, "but, but he..."

"What did you think he was, you idiot? A man shows up glowing like the
sun, with white wings and an aura of power even I could feel, and you
think he's just another chump martial artist?"

As Ranma spoke, Ranko, cloaked in a concealment spell, was dropping 
steadily down the tree behind Genma. When Ranma nodded to her, she fired
a spell at the lazy excuse for a martial artist that slammed into him
from below with tremendous force, sending him sailing into the sky.

Ryouga's eyes widened as he stared at the beautiful girl who appeared
suddenly, standing by his one-time friend. Where had she come from?

Ranma sighed as he rubbed his sore chest. 

Ranko grinned at him, and poked his chest, eliciting a grimace. "So, was
it worth it?"

"Heck yeah," retorted Ranma, "it was worth it just for the null aura
thing or those blades alone, either one. Together, and with the ki
powered kicks and punching techniques, and the other things I picked up,
we're in a lot better position to face whatever is coming. Those blades
can be made to cut as effectively as our claws, I think, and they're 
projectiles, which is a nice flexibility to have."

Ranko nodded, conceding to his judgement. "You took a bit of a beating
there a couple of times. I really wanted to jump in once or twice."

Ranma grinned saucily and seemed about to retort with an arrogant 
comment, when he visibly caught himself. "Well, I, uh, I... appreciate
that you didn't. Thanks for letting me deal with him, Ranko. Not that
I couldn't take him any day of the week, but this way, he still don't
know about you or nothing."

Ranko sighed as Ranma's ego affixed a self-serving defense to his
appreciation, but recognized the achievement she'd made in getting him
to the stage of being able to express appreciation in the first place.
That didn't mean she wasn't going to keep working on his humility,
though. 

Ryouga loped into the somewhat battered clearing. He would have far
preferred being human for this meeting, but he was afraid that if he
took the time to find hot water, he would never find Ranma again.
Besides, he had already lost his pack and clothes, and would likely have
to travel in wolf form anyway, at least until he could obtain new
clothing. All he had to do was somehow convince Ranma to let a strange
wolf follow him and not just attack it. Ryouga's ears drooped as his
usual depression grew. How on earth was he supposed to communicate with
Ranma?

Ranma walked over to where Ranko had dropped his pack on her way down.
He had just picked it up when he was startled by a short bark. Spinning
to face the sound, Ranma saw a large black-furred wolf. Glancing Ranko's
way, he saw no sign of her. A quick upward glance confirmed that she had
taken to the trees.

Setting his pack back down, Ranma moved slowly back. He found he was
having to fight a nervousness coming from the cat spirit in him, as he
was still embracing the Neko-ken. In spite of the fact that he and the
cat-spirit combined were more akin in power to a tiger than a house-cat,
the spirit itself was that of a small cat and could not remain sanguine
in the presence of the massive canine.

Ranma's will was stronger than the cat's fear and he did not flee.
Instead, he sidestepped slowly until he was well positioned to dive in
any direction if the wolf attacked. Keeping half an eye on the wolf, he
scanned the surroundings, looking for the rest of the pack. Ranma knew
little enough about wolves; less, probably, than anyone who'd ever
watched a nature special about them. He did have some personal
experience with them though, for he and his father had encountered them
a time or two, and his father had imparted his limited store of
knowledge regarding them.

"Ranko," he called out, "do you see the others?"

"No," she called back down, "that one is the only one I see," after
examining the surrounding area. She was a bit surprised that he had
asked that, considering that he ought to be able to sense their ki
signatures. It wasn't as if wolves could hide their ki; was there
something unusual about this wolf that was making him paranoid? She
looked closer at it and nearly fell out of the tree.

"One is enough!" she said, descending to get a closer look, "that wolf
has an unusually large aura... and," she dropped to the ground beside
Ranma, unsure if she should believe her senses, "an aura of magic too."

"Damn," muttered Ranma, holding his stance. "Just what we needed.
Finally deal with Pop, now we got... wait a minute. Fey?" The last he
spoke loud, directing the question to the wolf. Ryouga shook his head,
careful to make no other move. He didn't need Ranma deciding he was a
threat and attacking. After watching the fight between Ranma and Genma,
Ryouga held no illusions about the inevitable result if Ranma attacked
him while he was in this body. He didn't know how to fight as a wolf. He
wondered what Fey was and why Ranma would think a wolf would respond to
it.

Ranko's eyes lit up. "Jusenkyou?" she asked, staring into the wolf's
black eyes. Ryouga thought back. Was that the name of the place he'd
been? He couldn't really recall. He whined unhappily at his inability to
give a satisfactory answer.

Ranma looked at the wolf in disgust. "Ah, hell, it was probably just
shaking off fleas or something. It's just a wolf, it can't understand
us."

Ranko sighed, noting the way the wolf's hackles raised at that comment.
Ryouga was only barely able to hold himself in check. He badly wanted to
attack Ranma for that comment but knew that doing so at this moment, in
this form, would simply get him killed. So he settled for growling at
Ranma.

Ranko looked into the wolf's eyes again. "If you understand me, bark
twice." When Ryouga barked twice in response, she turned to face Ranma
with an expectant look. 

"All right, I'm sorry," Ranma said, holding up his hands. He glanced at
the wolf again. "Fall in a spring?"

Ryouga barked. He didn't know who that girl was but he was very glad for
her presence at the moment. Just as he had always been, Ranma was
arrogant and impatient and unwilling to put effort into communicating.
Without her, Ranma would have already left, Ryouga was certain.

"Ok, let's start with this," Ranko said, pleased that Ranma had admitted
that he was wrong. He had still spoken without thinking first but
admitting that he had erred instead of pridefully defending a statement
made without thought was a vast improvement over his prior behavior.

"One bark means yes, two means no, three means you can't answer. All
right?" Ryouga barked once in response.

"Did you fall in a spring? Were there a bunch of other springs around?
Did they have bamboo sticking out of them?"

With Ranko's quick mind working on the problem, it was not long before
they had established that the wolf was Japanese, had been human, was
male, had fallen in Jusenkyou, and didn't want hot water at the moment
because he had no clothing.

With no easy way of learning his name for the moment, Ranko offered the
name Garou, which Ryouga happily accepted. It certainly fit, as he was a
wolf, and having not eaten for several days since coming on Genma's
trail, he was very hungry. 

As soon as they had established the basics, Ranma insisted that they
needed to head out. "I don't expect Genma to give up that easily," he
said, frowning, "I want to be far from here when he returns. If we
travel solely through the trees, he shouldn't be able to track us. He'll
have no reason to connect Garou's prints to us."

Ryouga was annoyed that his hunger would not be soon assuaged but
understood Ranma's plight and gave no complaint. Ranko had a suggestion
though. "Ranma, he'll still have a pretty good idea where to find us,
just on the basis of the direction we've been going. Why don't we head
southwest for a while?"

Ranma thought about it for a minute as he slung his pack on his back
then broke into a wide grin. "Sure, why not. Fey said to take our time
and we've made pretty good time as it is."

A little over five hours later, they made camp at the base of a cliff
that had slowly risen to their right as they had traveled. It had cut
off their westerly trend but after several hours of traveling southwest
with no obstructions, they hadn't been too worried about the shift in
course.

Ranma had questioned whether they ought to take the low road and risk
coming to a cliff face they'd have to climb. Ranko had pointed out that
it was just as likely they'd have to climb down if they took the high
road; more importantly, they were heading to the ocean and out of a
mountain range so the ground should be sloping downward. Thus the lower
way should keep them closer to the average ground level. 

Ranma had not really understood the entirety of the discussion but had
recognized that Ranko had valid reasons for taking the lower path even
if he did not understand them. His own desire for the high road was more
an impulse from his training, knowing that the higher ground was
generally to be preferred in a fight, and he had to concede, even if
only internally, that he was no longer certain how well his martial
knowledge applied to real life situations. After all, Genma had drilled
into him the concept that any activity could become training but did
that really imply that martial arts training could handle any situation?
He was no longer as sure of that as he had been when still with Genma.

As Ranko began to set up their tent, Ranma left to hunt down some food.
Ryouga stayed in the camp, unable to effectively give aid to Ranko, yet
not really certain of his ability to hunt in this form. It irritated
him, since wolves were supposed to be great hunters; after all, they
were natural predators. He was not aware that a wolf's instincts are
pack-based, built for group hunting where joint tactics allow the
hunting of larger prey than themselves. He was likewise unaware that
wolves generally hunt the weakened or injured. 

So he spent his time watching Ranko. The more he watched the more he
wondered about her. Her movements were beautiful, so fluid and graceful 
yet somehow they persisted in reminding him of Ranma. He hated it, that
watching this delicate beauty should remind him of his... friend. He
wasn't that way! That wasn't why he was angry over Ranma leaving, it
simply couldn't be, yet he could not deny that he saw Ranma in her. 

He was startled when after collecting wood and building a fire, she lit
it simply by pointing at it and saying something under her breath. She
noted his surprise and grinned cheekily at him. She blew against her
finger, as if blowing smoke from the barrel of a gun and said, "It's
just magic, Garou. Just magic." 

As she turned away to prepare the cooking utensils for whatever Ranma
returned with, she realized that she had reacted as Ranma might have in
that situation. Not only had she teased Garou, she had actually mimicked
a movement she had never personally encountered, an action that could
only be explained as coming from Ranma's memories. She shivered,
wondering again how much of her original self remained. Was she becoming
Ranma?

Ranma returned just a few minutes later, startling Ryouga yet again. He
watched with wide eyes as Ranma unloaded three rabbits and two fat
birds, not noticing the drool dripping from his mouth. Ranma quickly set
to preparing the carcasses for spitting.

As he was skinning the third rabbit, he glanced at Ryouga. "Hey, Garou,
I reckon given that you were human, you'd rather have the meat cooked,
right?"

When Ryouga barked sharply in response then growled angrily, Ranma
sighed. "I'm sorry, man. I wasn't teasing, really, I just wasn't sure if
the change in form included a change in appetite. I didn't want to cook
'em all only to find out you can't eat it if it ain't raw."

Ryouga dropped his head to the ground glad for once for the thick fur
that concealed his burning face. How shameful... after all that had
happened, after finally admitting that Ranma was not at fault, that he
had done his best to be a friend, here he was assuming the worst yet
again, when Ranma was simply trying to help him. 

Soon they had eaten and were preparing to sleep. Ryouga grew steadily
more surprised as he watched Ranma setting up a single tent. He couldn't
believe his eyes when Ranma followed Ranko into the tent. Sleeping
together? Already? He was sure that Ranma couldn't have known the girl
for longer than he himself had been a wolf; Genma would never have
allowed it.

Had Ranma truly changed so much in so short a time? His ears were good
enough that he was not misled into believing that more was happening
than truly was but he still found it difficult to believe. Feeling lost
and bewildered as the world changed around him, Ryouga settled into an
uneasy sleep.

Fey watched the sleeping teenagers from a distance. He had been quite
surprised when Ryouga met up with Ranma and Ranko and did not attack. He
spent some time watching, thinking that perhaps Ryouga was waiting until
the other two were asleep before attacking but he seemed to have merely
gone to sleep himself.

"What changed?" he mused. "He hasn't got the same curse, true, but why
would he have blamed Ranma for the pig curse and not blamed him for the
wolf curse?"

"I wonder what will happen when Ranma finally learns who Garou is?"




Looking Forward


Ranko shifted slightly as her drowsiness receded. Still half asleep, she
pulled closer to the warmth she lay against. Moments later her eyes
opened slowly, taking in the soft glow of the tent as it was lit from
without. Shifting her gaze to that which she held in her embrace her
eyes met with an affectionate if hesitant look in return. 

She smiled broadly and her eyes glittered with happiness when Ranma's
eyes lost the hesitance they had held as he smiled softly back. She felt
like crowing in delight. Ranma always seemed to awaken before her and
this was the first time that he had not moved to extricate himself
before she could fully awaken. Suppressing her impulse, she simply
hugged him tightly for a moment before releasing him, intending to climb
from the bedroll.

She was startled when he did not release her. Instead he pulled her
closer. "Ranko-chan, hold on, 'kay?"

She smiled and snuggled in closer, resisting the urge to lean in and
give him a kiss. She had decided to allow their relationship to progress
at his pace, now that he had admitted to wanting her. That didn't always
make it easy, though.

"What are we gonna do about Garou?" Ranma queried.

Ranko sighed inaudibly, subtly disappointed that Ranma had not held her
there for more romantic reasons. Still, it was an improvement that he
was willing to discuss this with her while in a position that would have
had him red with embarrassment when they first met.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, uhm... we gotta keep training, but what's he gonna think when we
go cat? I mean, we don't know him or nothin'. Shouldn't we like... make
sure we can trust him first?"

"Hmmm... I guess you're right, Ranma. At least, we should get him
transformed back to human and find out why he wanted to come with us."

"So... how we gonna do it?"

"Hot water?" Ranko was a bit perplexed. Surely Ranma hadn't forgotten
already? 

"Yeah, I know that," retorted Ranma, smirking, "but he refused it when
we offered last time. Look, I figure he doesn't want to do it in front
of you, okay?" Ranko nodded but said nothing as Ranma continued, "On the
other hand, he could be one of the enemies, for all we know, trying to
split us apart to take us on. So, I figured maybe we could discuss it,
then I'll send you away to get him transformed after offering some of my
clothes so he won't have an excuse. You head out then work around to the
other side of camp and watch from the treetops. That way, if he tries
anything, wham! We smash him."

Ranko nodded, grinning. "Sure, Ranma, that makes sense. Though with your
luck, and considering when he showed up, my bet is that he's not one of
our enemies, but one of your father's. Who knows, maybe he's another
fiance."

Ranma grimaced. "Echh, that's disgusting. Then again, that's what I
thought Genma was doing when Fey showed up. No, hell, that is what Genma
was doing... I'm just lucky it ain't what Fey was doing."

"Heh. Come on, let's find out what's up with this wolf."

---

"Ryouga!?" Ranma stared at the shame-faced youth climbing out of his
tent, wearing a set of Ranma's older clothes. 

"Yeah... I..."

"How ya been, man! I sure wasn't expecting to see you out here. I'm
sorry about the match, but my old man wouldn't let me wait any longer. I
did wait three days, ya know." Ranma grinned good-naturedly, feeling
immensely relieved that the wolf had turned out to be someone with a
good reason for wanting to go with Ranma without needing to be either an
enemy or one of Genma's screw-ups.

Ryouga grimaced. "Yeah, I saw the signs of a fight there, and the
neighbors told me you waited..."

"So what are you doing here? And how'd you end up at Jusenkyou?" Ranma
queried, then blanched suddenly. "Uh, sorry, forget I asked," Ranma
said, looked down at his hands. "Damnit," he thought angrily to himself,
"why can't I stop putting my foot in my mouth?"

Ryouga stared at him in utter shock, not noticing Ranko's approach.
Ranma... Ranma had just apologized? Ranma, ever arrogant and clueless
Ranma, had just realized, without waiting for a reaction, that he'd put
his foot in his mouth?

Ryouga looked up as Ranko plopped to the ground near them and he blushed
deeply and clamped his hand to his nose. As a wolf his line of sight had
been low enough that he hadn't really looked at her form, particularly
since with his color-blindness, the distinction between clothes and skin
was less noticeable, not to mention that his eyes had been better suited
to watching her movements; besides, most of the time, he had been
focused on their scents, on not getting lost while following them. While
he had admired her movements, he was also, as a wolf, lacking the
instinctive and hormonal responses that movement would otherwise have
aroused in him. Even more so, as a wolf, he was truly color-blind,
seeing only shades of gray rather than merely lacking distinction
between green and red as with most color-blind humans, and had therefore
had no idea that her hair was so vibrantly red, her eyes such a
beautiful blue, or her skin so pale and perfect.

Ranko, meanwhile, had decided that Ranma's willingness to continue their
closeness that morning meant she could step up her enticement campaign a
notch. She wasn't going to initiate anything, but she was determined to
work at him until he did. So once she got out of camp and into the
brush, she had paused long enough to unbutton most of her shirt and tie
it off just under her breasts, leaving her midriff bare and highlighting
her bust. Once again she gave thanks that if Jusenkyou had stolen her
body, at least the one it had given her was cute and sexy enough to more
than make up the loss.

Ranko glanced at the boy, noting his cute fangs. Had that come from the
curse, somehow? No, she recognized him now, he was one of the few
friends in Ranma's memory. "Hi, Ryouga," she said, smiling warmly at
him. She didn't know him, not really, but she felt definite appreciation
for those few individuals who had befriended Ranma.

Ryouga was startled. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was,
with her sitting so close and dressed so... nicely. A beautiful girl
knew his name? Ryouga forced his gaze back to his one-time rival and
hopefully, once-again friend. 

"You... uh... the guide said you were cursed, Ranma..." Ryouga was
tentative, worried that this might be a sensitive or even dangerous
subject, considering Ranma's general reaction to any slight against his
manhood. A laugh of genuine amusement was definitely not the expected
response.

Ranma laughed shortly then replied. "Yeah, well, it wasn't really a
curse... maybe a... what'd'ya call it?"

"Blessing?" queried a smirking Ranko.

When Ranma nodded, "Yeah," both Ranko and Ryouga's mouths dropped open.
A deep blush lit Ranko's cheeks as she thought about the implications. 

"It got me away from my idiot old man and," Ranma looked up and stared
at Ranko who had a slightly disappointed look on her face, though the
blush still lightly stained her cheeks, "it brought me Ranko."

"I don't understand," protested Ryouga. "I thought for sure you'd be
going nuts being cursed to be a girl!"

Ranma smiled, still holding Ranko's eyes with his. "I'm not cursed
anymore, Ryouga. The old man sold me again but this time he sold me to
someone he ain't ever gonna get me back from. That's what the fight was
about and he lost."

"You're cured!?" Ryouga was startled and pleased but not quite as
excited as he thought he'd be. Ranma's comment about a blessing had made
him think a bit too. As a wolf, he couldn't carry his heavy pack, and
that was a definite downside. Changing at random intervals could
definitely be a pain. He'd have to worry about shedding and fleas... but
damnit, he didn't get lost! That sure made up for a hell of a lot.

"Yeah. The guy the old man sold me to turned out to be a kami and he
gave me a choice. He said the world's gonna get destroyed in I think
thirty years and he wanted me to help him fight whatever's gonna do it."

"What's that got to do with getting cured?"

"That was part of it... kinda my payment for becoming his champion. He
split my curse off and used it to bring back the girl who'd drowned
there."

Ryouga's eyes widened and he glanced at Ranko questioningly. She nodded.
"That's right. I was born a little over fifteen hundred years ago. My
birth name was Xian Tal, but since we're going to Japan, I took a
Japanese name."

"There's more too, Ryouga," she continued, a bit hesitantly. "If you are
going to continue traveling with us, I think you'll have to know about
this."

"Yep," interjected Ranma, "Fey said the best way for us to get stronger
quick was to fight across a difference in form. Can't do that if we
can't change form, so you're gonna haveta know about this. Uhm..."

Ranma paused, coloring slightly as he realized he would have to explain
his greatest weakness to Ryouga. He shook his head. It's not a weakness
anymore, he told himself. "Back a'fore I met ya, my idiot father decided
to train me in this invincible technique."

Ryouga sat up a bit straighter. Ranma knew an invincible technique? Why
hadn't he ever used it before? Ranma noted the slight tension in
Ryouga's hands as they threatened to become fists and hastened to ward
off Ryouga's wrath.

"Whoa there, Ryouga! It ain't like you're thinking! Remember, this is my
idiot father we're talking about here. His good idea gave me an
uncontrollable fear, not an invincible technique!"

Ryouga calmed down. Ranma hadn't just been playing with him, then. "Why
are you telling me this, Ranma? We're rivals!"

Ranma blinked a bit at this. "Well, yeah, I know, Ryouga, but we're
friends, too, right?" Ryouga was startled. He had berated himself the
moment he spoke, remembering too late that he had already decided that
he couldn't match the pigtailed boy and that they had been more friends
than enemies. Hearing Ranma affirm that he thought of Ryouga as a friend
defused his tension considerably.

"Yeah, yeah, I guess we are. Ok, so, what was this technique then?"

Ranma's mouth turned down into a disgusted frown. "The Neko-ken," he 
said unhappily, even as he lightly embraced the cat-fist to avoid 
unfortunate reactions as he talked about it. "He wrapped me up in fish
sausage and threw me in a pit of starving cats." Ryouga paled. "All it
did was make me," Ranma paused and drew in a deep breath, still feeling
unhappy about having to admit to weakness, particulary in front of a
rival, "make me afraid of cats, so he did it again and again until I
finally snapped and went insane."

"But how come...," Ryouga paused, floundering in search of words,
gesturing at Ranma in an attempt to get across his meaning without
having to say it.

"He came out of it after he fell asleep," Ranko said, divining Ryouga's
concern. "But ever since, whenever he was near a cat and couldn't get
away for long enough, he'd go insane again, and think he was a cat. It
was a strong technique for all of that, giving him ki claws and
heightened senses, but it certainly wasn't invincible. All it would take
to distract him would be a ball of yarn, a falling leaf, catnip. He
became just like a cat, but not in a way that would be truly useful."

"Yeah well, anyway, after Fey gave me the choice, he decided that the
Neko-ken was too big a weakness for his champion to have, so he helped
me fix it. Now me and Ranko both can use the Neko-ken without going nuts
first and we ain't scared of cats no more. But it goes further too... He
did some kind of magic thing to us, Ryouga. It's kinda like Jusenkyou, I
guess, in that we change, but it's controlled. I guess that's all we can
tell him, huh, Ranko?"

"Yes, Ranma, go ahead and show him what you're talking about."

Ryouga looked between them for a moment, then focused on Ranma as he
stood and stepped away a few meters. Ranma closed his eyes and
concentrated then muttered something. Ryouga's eyes bulged in shock as
Ranma swelled from an average sized, if well-muscled, Japanese male, to
a nine-foot tall, powerfully muscled, gold and black furred tiger-man.

"Step one," Ranko said softly. "Well, step two, really, since he can
access the Neko-ken without actually physically going cat." 

Ryouga stood up a bit nervously. He waited a moment then when Ranma
stayed still, he stepped forward trepidatiously. Ranma grinned and
Ryouga started at the sight of Ranma's inch long fangs. 

"Step two," Ranma purred. He closed his eyes again. This time Ryouga was
close enough to hear Ranma mutter, "Transform," under his breath. Ryouga
stepped back in shock as Ranma shot up once more, growing to nearly
thirteen feet in height, huge black leathery wings sprouting from his
back as his fur seemed to melt into burnished gold scales. His scales
caught the light from the rising sun, glittering and flashing as his
chest moved with his breath.

Ranma grinned again, three inch long dagger-like teeth flashing white in
the sunlight as he delighted in Ryouga's awed reaction. It made him wish
for a mirror. After Fey had unlocked their forms, he had seen Ranko's
forms and she his, but neither had seen themselves. Glancing at his
partner, he was surprised by the heat of her gaze, until he reminded
himself how it had affected him to look on her crimson beauty.

Ranko nodded then cocked her head to one side. Ranma, guessing without
real certainty at her intent, released the transformations. He wasn't
sure now, looking at Ryouga's stunned face, that he really should have
taken the second transformation, at least, not until Ryouga had gotten
used to the tiger-form.

Ranko stepped up and gave Ranma a lopsided smile, shaking her head
slightly. "There's one more aspect you need to see, Ryouga, since it
affects how we may choose to travel." Ryouga turned his gaze to the
red-haired beauty just in time to see her drop to all fours before
becoming a ten foot tigress, fur tinged with red. She strode to Ranma's
side and he dropped a hand on her head, scratching lightly as she rubbed
along his side.

Stepping away again, Ranko returned to her human form, feeling grateful
that Fey had arranged for their clothing to change with them by virtue
of their rings. While she wouldn't mind giving Ranma a free show, she
didn't want his friend to get any ideas.

To be sure, he looked like he might make a fine second husband, but the
memories she had gained from Ranma indicated that Genma had made more
than one engagement for Ranma. If she opened up the idea of a multiple
marriage, she might find herself competing with only Genma knew how many
girls for time with her love. She had no intention of allowing that to
happen.

Ryouga still looked stunned but he was beginning to come to grips with
what he'd seen. He thanked the gods that he had not taken up his revenge
once more after leaving the valley of cursed springs. Ranma's
demonstration against his own father had been bad enough but looking at
Ranma's cursed forms... He might at one time have been stronger while
Ranma was faster, and they were both near evenly matched, but there was
no way he was as strong as Ranma's larger forms.

Ranko sat down and the two boys followed suit, and for the next several
hours they talked about their lives and their memories. Most of Ranma's
tale was told by Ranko, for he had forgotten much of it, a defensive
reaction lest dwelling on it steal his happiness. Ryouga went last and
as he finished his tale, Ranko grew thoughtful. 

"You know, Ranma, we might be able to do something for Ryouga," Ranko
said, catching their interest.

"Oh? Like what?" queried Ranma, brightening at the thought of helping
out his old friend. He had been afraid that Ryouga would be angry at him
for not being at their fight, but thankfully that fear had been defused.
Still, if they could resolve some of Ryouga's problems, that would
surely cement their friendship. Ranma had few enough friends and he
certainly didn't want to lose any of the ones he had.

"Well... let's start small, and see if we can't get his pack."

"Oh. Right." Ranma was a bit disappointed. He had been hoping that Ranko
had some idea how to help Ryouga with his curse, or with his direction
sense, since Ranma certainly didn't.

Ryouga was caught between disappointment and excitement. He too had for
a moment hoped for a cure, but having his pack with him would certainly
improve his ability to help Ranma and prove his friendship.

"Okay, so first, we need to find it," Ranko said. She looked at Ranma.
"I don't really have experience with this, but I've seen it done, so I
think I should be able to visualize it well enough for Fey's powers to
work." Ranma nodded, happy to let her take the lead. He was sure he
didn't have the best chance at casting this sort of magic. He still did
best on the spells that Ranko had guided him through visualizing, such
as his "gimme a torch" spell.

Picking up a canteen, she took one of Ranma's cooking pots, she poured
enough water into it to completely cover the bottom then capped the
canteen and set it aside.

"Alright, Ryouga, I want you to concentrate on what your backpack looks
like." He nodded and closed his eyes.

Ranko focused her intent and visualized the scrying bowl she had seen
the elder's use, then chanted. 

"By the power granted me, from this man's mind the image obtaining, in
the water finding the way, this item's location find and display!" Ranma
and Ranko grinned when the water turned dark then stilled, not reacting
to the vagaries of the wind with even the least ripple. A moment later a
clear image was shown of a heavy pack lying hidden beneath a bush, a red
papered bamboo umbrella resting atop the bedroll that was tied to the
pack.

Ranko looked to Ranma. "Alright, it's your turn. You get to bring it
here. Remember to focus on what you want, and try and think of a
sequence of words that matches the things you visualize."

Ranma began to sweat. "Uh, Ranko, are you sure I should..." He fell
silent at her glare and nodded quickly. "Uh, right, uhm," he wavered,
then focused his gaze on the water and tried to clear his mind of his
doubts and uncertainties. "Uh, by the power ya gave me, take this pack
I'm lookin at, and put it over here beside me, uhm... now?"

There was a muffled pop, and Ryouga's bag appeared a few feet above the
ground beside Ranma and landed with a clatter, startling them all.
Ryouga's eyes snapped wide as he stared at his pack, which seemed to be
slightly singed and smoking just a bit.

Ryouga hadn't had his eyes open to see the picture in the water, as he
had been trying to concentrate, so he was entirely unprepared for it to
appear beside him so precipitously. "Eeep! Uhm... how come its smoking?"

Ranko giggled, smelling the light hint of sulfur in the air. "I think
Ranma didn't bother to visualize which aspect of Fey he was asking for
help. Fey is also a demon, and I think Ranma just cast a demonic
summoning spell."

Ranma groaned unhappily but didn't notice Ryouga pale. Ryouga had just
suffered a vision of himself running into Ranma after being cursed,
shouting "Ranma! Because of you I've seen Hell! Die!" and having Ranma
turn around to say, "Fine, why don't you go back for another visit."
Then there was this weird image of a little black piglet running around
dodging demons with pitchforks in a place that was basically nothing
more than one really big barbecue pit. "Why a pig?" he wondered,
shivering.

---

Ryouga watched in wide-eyed wonder as Ranma faced off against the
Ranko's half-tiger form. She towered over Ranma and as they rushed to
the attack, Ryouga could see that in addition to greater reach and
strength, she was also faster than Ranma, even with her greater size and
mass.

Ranma took several hits early on. They had sparred in their Neko-ken
forms a number of times, but they had not yet tried sparring across a
difference in form, preferring to become familiar with their new forms
first. Facing a larger, stronger and most importantly faster opponent
was a significantly greater challenge than Ranma had anticipated. Even
so, he would have put up a better showing were it not for the constant
sparring they had been doing. As a result of that sparring the knowledge
of the art that Ranko had gained from Ranma's memories had become second
nature to her and while she still had nowhere near his astounding
ability for analyzing an opponent's style and coming up with a swift
counter, she hardly needed it against an opponent she had experience
against.

Ranma took a number of punishing blows, hitting the ground hard enough
to make even Ryouga wince, but he bounced back and quickly shifted to a
style based on Hapkido. His usual style was based too strongly on having
a speed advantage over his opponent but the true secret of his school of
the art was adaptability. He might normally use moves based on Kempo and
his father's air-borne style, but he could change styles in an instant.

Ranko was delighted when her first strikes produced decisive hits but in
spite of having his memories of learning under his father, she was taken
by surprise when he shifted styles. Though he bounced right back up from
the hit, he did not leap at her as she was expecting and when she
launched herself across the intervening space he avoided her seeking
fist with bare millimeters to spare, tugging lightly at her arm as it
whistled past, throwing her off-balance and into an elegant hip-throw.

Ryoga straightened and watched more closely, suddenly aware that Ranma
had taken up a seemingly defensive role in response to his loss of the
speed advantage. Ranma seemed to Ryouga to be in a position similar to
the one he had so often had Ryouga in, though he was lacking the
strength advantage as well, something that Ryouga had never conceded to
Ranma. Of course, that too had changed now. There was no question in
Ryouga's mind that Ranma could easily out-power him. Nonetheless,
Ranma's tactics could be very useful if Ryouga ever found himself
sparring against one or the other of the pair.

That thought seemed to linger in the air as a feeling of sick
fascination overtook him. With a yowled battle-cry the two had taken it
up a notch and begun demonstrating why they were warriors now and no
longer just martial artists. First blood went to Ranko, twisting in
mid-air as she was thrown yet again, reminding Ranma that her feet in
this form were more than blunt weapons, as she gouged tracks across his
arm.

Ranma did not let up in the least, in spite of his injury, launching
himself into a low but very fast ki-propelled kick at Ranko's landing
place. She twisted in the air to avoid him, even though she was still
facing away from him, but Ranma dropped his leading foot quite suddenly
into the ground. It sent a severe jolt through him but he directed the
change in momentum masterfully, turning the forward leap into a rolling
kick with the other leg, bringing it smashing down with startling speed
even as Ranko strove to avoid it.

She managed to avoid most of it but blood sprayed from her back
nonetheless. She had in fact avoided his kick, but Ranma had
demonstrated the adaptiveness that was his trademark, reacting to the
raking claws of her foot and successfully manifesting the claws of the
Neko-ken through his own foot, shredding his Chinese slipper but
evening the score.

Ryouga felt certain that they would bleed to death when they finally
stopped, so covered were they in fresh and dried blood and indeed they
seemed limp with exhaustion. Still, he had watched much of the fight
closely and one of the first points he noticed when Ranma finally
collapsed beside him was that the original injury that had drawn first
blood, raking lines of red across Ranma's arm, had vanished completely,
not even a scar left to show its presence.

The combat had lasted for nearly two hours and he felt sure they were
done for the day. He glanced at his pack, wondering how long it would
take them to recover enough to travel. He turned back at the sound of
Ranko's voice chanting, in time to see a wash of white pass over them.
Ranma stood up, no longer exhausted, and apparently unwounded.

Ranko, having returned to human form, joined him in walking out into the
field a good distance from Ryouga as he stared at them in dismay. Surely
they were not going to do it again?

"You're the one who has touched that power already," Ranko teased Ranma
and he grumbled but nodded. Ryouga was wondering what she meant as Ranma
began chanting. He kept on wondering, right up to the point that five
rather nasty looking creatures appeared.

They looked around startled then one of them laughed. "Fresh meat," he
said, grinning and pointing the humans out to his companions. There was
certainly no mistaking who was new and who was not, for the creatures
looked far from human. They were grotesque, with oversized tusks and
claws. Two had horns, three had scales of green or black, two were
furred, one black and one red, and all looked like a strange cross of
man and beast. Where Ranma and Ranko had forms that seemed to combine
the best of humans and animals, evoking a sense of awe in Ryouga, these
things seemed to combine the worst, with leering faces, drool dripping
down their chins, dirt and slime proclaiming their utter lack of care
for their appearance, and a stench that reached Ryouga with disgusting
swiftness.

Ranko and Ranma looked at each other, nodded, and sprang into action
before the demons, summoned by Ranma, reacted to the first beast's
comment. They were amongst them instantly, striking hard. Ryouga was
reminded once more of the distinct changes his friend had undergone as
the snapping of bone resounded clearly across the distance.

They high-fived each other amidst the resulting sprawl of demons then
danced away as the beasts rose to their feet once more. "You're gonna
pay for that," one growled as his arm un-snapped with a painful-sounding
wet crack. "I'm gonna enjoy eating your heart," he sneered at Ranma.

One of the other demons joined in. "After we make you watch while we all
rape your slut!"

To their amusement, the humans showed no signs of fear, in spite of
the demons having just demonstrated the futility of their skills. Their
amusement was short-lived when Ranma cried out, "Sparring partners that
won't stay down! He was right, this is great!"

The two dove into the melee again and it was only the knowledge that the
mortals would soon grow weary and become easy prey that consoled the
demons as the warriors tore through them, cracking bones left and right.
These were low-level demons but they filled Ranma's requirements
perfectly; hardly surprising, considering that it had been his mental
expectations that had controlled who was summoned. They were cannon
fodder, un-skilled except in the simple and direct application of brute
force, but designed to take massive amounts of punishment. They were
fulfilling their design admirably, to their considerable regret.

Long after they had expected the warriors to tire, they finally did grow
weary. Unfortunately, it was the weariness of boredom and not physical
exhaustion and with unspoken agreement claws of ki were unleashed and
the demons' physical forms were quickly damaged too much to sustain
their demonic essences. The bodies collapsed into a fine grey dust.

Ranma sighed unhappily. "Well, it might of been good exercise but it
would have been a lot better if they had some skill. I mean, it ain't
teaching us nothing about group fighting if we don't have to defend each
other and what not."

"I'll summon them next time," Ranko promised, eliciting a smile from her
tired companion.

"Good," he smirked, "but you know, it ain't cause you think so good that
it works better for you."

"Oh," questioned Ranko as they walked back towards Ryouga, "then why is
it that I'm so much better, hmm?"

"'S'obvious," Ranma answered with a wide grin, "Fey's just like me."

"That doesn't make sense," she retorted, "if he's just like you you
should think alike, which should make it easier."

"Yeah," Ranma agreed, "'cept that he is just like me. I can't help it,
every time I look at you I want to do anything I can to make you happy."
Ranma let out an exultant whoop at Ranko's look of startled delight. He
swept her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly.

"Now doesn't that just warm your heart?" asked a voice tinged with
humor and happiness from just behind Ryouga.




Ryouga's Choice


Ryouga leapt to his feet and spun around. Immediately his jaw dropped.
There was no question in his mind, given the story Ranma had told him,
as to who the figure before him was, but even with the story it was
still a shock to turn around and find Ranma standing behind him. He
turned halfway back around to verify that Ranma was still hugging Ranko
and wasn't playing some joke on him then out of the corner of his eye he
caught the flash of white. Facing the new Ranma fully once more, he
looked past the face that had held his startled attention, to the white
wings that rested against his back, neatly folded.

Before he had a chance to speak, he heard a joyous cry from behind him.
A rush of wind blew past him leaving Ranko clinging tightly to Fey's
side, her eyes shining with happiness, while Ranma stood a step away, a
real, unfeigned smile on his face. Looking at Ranma in that moment,
Ryouga realized for perhaps the first time that there was actually a
difference between being cheerful and being happy.

He had thought Ranma happy when he first knew him but looking at him now
the difference became obvious. Ranma had been unfailing cheerful, an
attribute that at the time had irritated Ryouga to no end. That
impertinent and ever-present grin seemed a mockery when they were
sparring, but now even in memory it seemed a dim shadow to Ranma's
present happiness. Could Ranma really have been so much like himself?
Had he been hiding depression, anger, or sadness behind that veil of
cheerfulness all that time?

Ryouga felt shamed once more for the attitude he had taken with his
friend. Remembering again Ranma's description of the Neko-ken training,
he silently berated himself for having doubted that Ranma might have had
reason to feel depression or anger. Seeing the winged Ranma smiling
proudly at Ranma and Ranko, Ryouga was reminded of his own father's
look, when Ryouga had mastered a kata. Ranma never had that, he reminded
himself. And yet he had the strength to be cheerful. At that moment
something seemed to click for Ryouga, a recognition, deep down, that
Ranma was not merely stronger than Ryouga. Ranma was better, was a
better person than Ryouga.

Ryouga grinned slightly, letting his fangs show, as in his mind he
declared once more a ringing challenge. This time, it was not a
declaration of vengeance. "Someday, Ranma, someday I will be as good a
man as you, and then it won't matter who is stronger."

Ranko released Fey and gestured at Ryouga. "This is Ranma's friend,
Fey-sama, Hibiki Ryouga. We were talking earlier about trying to help
him."

"He ended up at Jusenkyou, somehow," Ranma added and Ryouga realized
with a start that he had never admitted that he had followed Ranma for
vengeance. An image of a penitent Ranma flashed in his head and while
for just a moment he felt pleasure at the thought, the realization a
moment later that Ranma would in fact feel guilty and sorry for having
caused Ryouga's curse, even though Ryouga had since admitted that he and
not Ranma was at fault, shamed him still the more for having taken even
an instant's pleasure at the thought.

"He turns into a great big wolf," finished Ranko. "Can you do something
for him?"

Ryouga felt his heart leap at the thought but it fell just as quickly,
as Fey shook his head slowly. "As I told Ranma when we first met, I must
act directly as little as possible. However, perhaps it is time that I
reveal another of the gifts I have given you."

He sat, spreading his wings, and they followed suit. Once again he told
the tale, explaining to Ryouga who he was, why he was there, and what
Ranma and Ranko had agreed to.

"What I have not yet told you," he continued, looking to Ranma and
Ranko, "though I think Ranko has guessed it already, is that you are to
be the leaders, not the only warriors. You are my avatars here and to
you alone is this gift given, that all of the other gifts I have given
you, you may pass on to another."

"Perhaps I should say rather, share with another, for you will lose
nothing in the exchange. It is under your control and I trust you with
this, but to ensure against betrayal, you may revoke your gift with a
single touch, if you so intend. Further, you may choose, at the time of
the gift, which of your powers to pass on and to what degree,
remembering that whatever you give will be useless until the recipient
learns to use it. Thus, the more you give, the more time they will need
to become fully effective."

Ranko grinned. "I was just about to ask why we would want to give half a
gift."

He smiled and nodded. "I thought you might. But to give a more concrete
example, suppose you find someone who can support you by gathering
information, but is not a fighter? To ensure that person's loyalty and
safety you might gift them with your healing ability, but there would be
little point in giving them a transformation. As for that last, in point
of fact, your transformations are mere activators for your Neko-ken,
which you cannot grant to others, for I did not give it to you. But if
you pass the activators on to one who has suffered a Jusenkyou curse,
then that person will be able to control the change, even to change
partially, just as you can."

Ranko smiled. "So, Fey-sama, how would we give this gift?"

"Well, first, Ranko, I must insist that you give the gift only to those
who have agreed to aid you, and who can do so effectively. I don't want
to come back and see that all the population of Japan is immortal. This
is for your team, only. Given that... you pass on the gift by
concentrating on doing so while taking their blood."

"Taking... their blood?" Ranko asked, frowning in confusion. 

"Yes," said Fey, baring his fangs, "like a vampire. You needn't take
much."

Ranma laughed and was about to make a comment about Ryouga already
having the equipment, when a gout of blood poured from Ryouga's nose and
he fell over backwards in a faint. The image of Ranko, her lips pressed
against his throat as a single drop of blood escaped her lips, was too
much for him.

---

Ryouga sat up slowly. His hand flew to his nose when the scene he had
been imagining just before his faint flashed back to his mind. A gentle
laugh drew his attention to Ranma and Ranko, both sitting near him. He
looked around.

"Where did Fey go?"

"He left after he finished explaining things," Ranma replied with a
grin. For a bare instant Ryouga felt a flash of anger at the smirking
boy, but his usual reactions had been sufficiently disrupted by the odd
events of the past several days that he had time to recognize that all
was not as he had at first imagined. Ranma's grin was no different,
really, from his usual irritating smirk, and yet, after that brief flash
of memory, it did not seem to summon the usual anger within him.

Because it's not empty, he realized. He always used to look like he was
deliberately smirking at me, as if he was mocking me, mocking
everything, a smile that held no real emotion. Now he is smiling because
he is actually happy. The realization that Ranma's smile was one he
could not become angry at was followed by a deep shame that he had ever
become angry at Ranma for so little reason, realizing as he now did,
that Ranma's grin had not been a mockery, as he had so often thought,
but a defense against the harsh emptiness of his life.

"So, uh, how about it, Ryouga?" asked Ranma, shifting nervously. "Do
you... uh... wanna help? It's gonna be dangerous, but..."

"I'm a martial artist, Ranma," Ryouga said, without heat. "I heard what
Fey said." He looked down and sighed. "I don't think you're asking the
right question though." He pulled up a few blades of grass, crumpling
them in his hands.

"See, uh... I haven't really told you everything yet. I... I didn't just
show up at Jusenkyou. I followed you. I wanted to get revenge." Ranma
looked startled and worried.

"I don't want that anymore," he said, sighing, "but... do you really
want me on your team? I mean, you had a harder life than I did, I can
finally see that, but you kept your head up, you stayed cheerful. I gave
in to my depression, I followed you all the way to China because I felt
like you betrayed me!"

"Well," Ranma began, glancing at Ranko with a concerned frown, "yeah,
but, you're not trying to now, right? I mean, we're friends now, right?
And I can help you, and you can help me."

"Yeah, I guess," said Ryouga, looking up, a slow smile spreading across
his face, his fangs dimpling his lower lip. He had not really expected
any less from Ranma. He did not want to convince Ranma not to accept
him. But pointing out the things he was feeling ashamed of and hearing
Ranma brush them aside as no longer meaningful gave him hope that he
might actually be able to make a new start.

"So, uh, what now?" Ryouga shifted a bit nervously, remembering the
vision that had so recently knocked him out.

Ranma glanced at Ranko. "You'll have to do the tricky ones, Ranko-chan,
so I might as well do the simple ones. Besides," he turned and grinned
at Ryouga, "if she did it, you'd die of blood-loss, between her and your
nose."

Ryouga growled but tilted his neck. When Ranma shook his head and stood,
Ryouga followed suit. Again Ryouga tilted his neck, turning his head
away. Ranma stepped up, opening his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye,
Ryouga saw Ranma's eyeteeth lengthening. Ranma leaned forward and then
stopped, leaning back for a moment, gazing questioningly at Ryouga's
neck before reaching up to feel his own. "Uh... I think I need to do it
on the other side, Ryouga."

Ryouga wondered what difference it made, but obligingly turned his head
the other direction, exposing his neck once more. "If you turn me into a
vampire, Ranma...," he growled warningly, leaving his threat unfinished.

Ranma chuckled and then Ryouga felt a warmth on his neck, followed by a
momentary pain that quickly faded into pleasure. Ranma was momentarily
overcome by emotion, as Ryouga was by the pleasure. Ryouga seemed to be
pumping out raw depression and shame. Ranma shook himself mentally and
focused on the gift. The moment he thought of it he could feel it like a
warm glow in his chest. He thought of his quick healing and a single
spark of lambent flame rose from the warmth and passed into Ryouga. "Heh,"
he thought, "that was easy. Guess I could do the tricky ones, too."

With that he focused on the fire in his chest, encouraging the whole
thing to move, with no more concern for what was what. Ryouga shivered
as he felt surges of flame running into him through his neck, rising to
his head, and flashing down to fill his chest with a fiery heat. The
pleasure faded and he felt a wet warmth. Ranma pulled his teeth out,
leaving just his lips pressed against Ryouga's neck, then licked the
wound, feeling it close under his tongue, before stepping away. "Well,
it's done," Ranma said, wiping his mouth, leaving a red streak across
the back of his hand.

"Feel any different, Ryouga?" asked Ranko, stepping up to put a hand on
his shoulder, cocking her head to gaze curiously into his face.

"Like someone set a fire in my chest," he said, putting his hand to his
chest. "Not like heartburn, though. It doesn't hurt."

Ranma nodded knowingly. "Felt the same for us, the first time, when we
drank his blood."

Ryouga peered at him over Ranko's head. "You mean, he didn't take yours,
the way you took mine?"

"Naw, he cut his wrist and filled a golden cup and we drank out of
that."

"Oh... so what exactly did you do? I mean, what can I do, now?"

"Well, the most important thing at the moment, Ryouga," said Ranko,
still standing in front of him, "is that you should be able to control
your curse. I don't know if water will still trigger it or not, but the
way we change, is to picture the form we want to take, and then say,
'Transform,'"

Ryouga snickered and Ranma laughed. "I felt the same way," Ranma said,
"but Fey said you can whisper it, if you like."

"Go on, try it," Ranko encouraged.

Ryouga nodded and mentally pictured the wolf he had seen reflected in
the waters of the pool. "Transform," he muttered. Instantly he dropped
to all four limbs, as the world faded to grey and yet lit up with
innumerable scents. Not the least of which was the smell of his own
blood coming from Ranma.

A sudden unreasoning fear struck him. He had changed, he was a wolf, how
could he say 'transform' when he could not speak at all? Frantically he
pictured himself as a human again and shouted "Transform!" A long howl
answered him but it was enough, and he was back. Immediately he moved
his hands to cover himself and flushed red. Ranko turned around,
blushing.

"Heck," said Ranma, "I forgot that our clothes stick with us because of
these rings and not some ability he gave us. Sorry." He bowed
apologetically at the frantically dressing Ryouga, who was trying to
rearrange clothing that had been ripped and torn.

"Oh, man," panted Ryouga, "I was sure for a minute there that I was
trapped. I mean, a wolf can't talk!" He looked around and realized that
Ranko had gone into the tent to allow him to try out his new powers in
relative privacy.

Ranma shook his head again, looking down. "Sorry about that, Ryouga. But
you shouldn't have been worried. After all, you saw Ranko become an
ordinary tiger and she changed back. We change the same way, ya know."

"Yeah," Ryouga agreed, shaking his head ruefully. "I guess I just wasn't
thinking."

"S'okay. Try your next form," encouraged Ranma. 

"My what?" Ryouga stared at Ranma in confusion.

"You know, a half-form. Picture yourself, but like, hairy, I guess, with
a kind of wolfish face and claws and all, and then say transform."

Ryouga glanced at the tent and then shucked his clothes again, with an
apologetic glance at Ranma. He grinned sheepishly. "You got a bit bigger
when you went half-tiger. I don't want to rip all my clothes up. I did
enough damage to them already." Concentrating, he tried to picture
himself as a big hairy wolf-man. He had seen movies with werewolves
before and when he said "Transform," Ranma noticed that he had produced
the same sort of double-kneed legs that Ranma first had.

Ranma pointed at them. "Fey said that that means you went deeper towards
a wolf. He says that legs like that are better for speed and jumping,
while human-type legs are better for power and strength. I did the same
thing the first time, because I've been deeper in the Neko-ken."

Ryouga glanced down at his legs, but they hardly seemed worth the
concern. He was instead concentrated on the realization that this form
was the answer to the question that had plagued him before he first left
Jusenkyou. In this form, his sense of smell was keen enough that he
would not get lost if he had something or someone to follow, and yet he
could carry his pack.

Returning his attention to Ranma he saw that the now small-seeming boy
had picked up his pants and was looking at them thoughtfully. Before
Ryouga could comment Ranma began chanting softly. "By the power you gave
me, Lord Fey, let these pants uh, fit Ryouga, uh, fit Ryouga like he is
now, I mean."

Before Ryouga's startled eyes, the pants grew in size and altered
slightly in cut and form. Ranma handed them to Ryouga with a smile.
Ryouga tried to put them on, but found that the odd shape of his legs
prevented it, though they looked like they would fit well enough once he
got them on.

Ranma took them back and looked at them for a moment then raised a
single finger. Above it a gleam of light flashed then his hand dropped
and the pants suddenly became cut-offs. He muttered something under his
breath and stitches suddenly appeared on the bottom, re-hemming the
shortened pants. He handed them to Ryouga, who found that the shorter
legs were easy to work over his own strangely shaped limbs, and that the
shorts fit well, though the hems looked badly sewn. Well, perhaps not
badly, they looked like they would hold, but the stitches varied in
length and the line they made wavered up and down. Certainly nothing
like the original neat machine-stitching. 

Ranma grinned at him then turned and ran over to the tent. He poked his
head in, then backed out again, followed by Ranko. She looked over at
Ryouga and smiled. He responded with a deep blush though none of them
could see it.

"So, Ryouga," said Ranma, grinning widely, "How about a spar man? Just
like we used to."

"Sure," said Ryouga, cracking his knuckles. Remembering Ranma's words,
he bent his legs and sprang into the air and away from the tent, easily
gaining forty feet from the ground. Ranma leapt up to meet him. Ryouga
was no stranger to midair combat, though he was by no means as good at
it as Ranma. As he neared Ranma he threw out a strong punch and felt a
strong urge to howl in victory when he saw Ranma move to redirect it, as
he had hoped he would.

He had watched carefully as Ranma had fought Ranko and seen how he
worked to use her strength against her and had planned for Ranma to do
the same to him. Such plans were often useless against Ranma, he knew,
for the other boy was the most unpredictable fighter Ryouga had ever
encountered. This once, though, Ryouga had been lucky. Moving with
Ranma's tug, he rotated and caught Ranma's wrist in his large hand. A
quick half-twist in the air, a sharp tug, and his legs snapped out to
smash Ranma in the chest with stunning force. 

Ranma slammed into the ground sending up a cloud of dirt as Ryouga shot
even higher into the air with the momentum he had stolen from Ranma.
Ranma bounced back to his feet, grinning madly. That grin met its
brother on Ryouga's face. For the first time in a spar with Ranma, he
was not overcome with rage or depression.

As Ranma shot up towards him again, Ryouga felt a rush of excitement
shoot through him. Knowing that Ranma would have changed his tactics, he
guessed quickly at the most unexpected thing he could think of Ranma
doing. Sure enough, Ranma shifted styles completely, throwing himself
into a driving kick that showed no sign of the elegant and minimal
redirection of momentum he had been employing a moment before. Ryouga
exulted once more at having guessed rightly and he pulled Ranma's trick
on him, for the first time in his life achieving a perfect Hapkido throw
against Ranma. 

He couldn't help it and howled in delight and victory. When the howl
finally died as he landed lightly on the ground, he recognized once more
the difference between them that he had never been willing to see
before. Ryouga would have taken any opening, before, while Ranma, though
trained by Genma, a man as sneaky and dishonorable, surely, as any man
alive, had allowed him his moment of triumph, even though his head had
been to the sky, his eyes closed, baring his defenses. The moment he
looked at Ranma though, the other boy was in motion, whipping across the
ground towards him, but not directly. He was moving at a startling
speed, but every step seemed to alter his intended target, leaving
Ryouga at a loss for where the other boy intended to attack.

Not willing to wait and defend at a disadvantage, Ryouga leapt forward
to meet his oncoming foe. The two clashed and for several moments they
stood toe to toe, Ranma lithely avoiding Ryouga's combinations, blocking
occasionally with a visible grimace, but getting his own telling hits on
Ryouga.

Ranma shifted his stance suddenly and before Ryouga could react to the
change in pace, he was thrown. He expertly redirected himself, twisting
in the air and landing on those marvelous legs, which absorbed his
momentum so efficiently, before reversing his direction in a powerful
horizontal leap. He realized his mistake even as Ranma took his diret
and open attack and redirected it yet again.

The next time Ryouga attacked more warily. He countered the next throw
and retaliated with a hard blow that caught Ranma on the left side, but
Ranma had seemed to expect it and turned with it, lessening the blow.
Ranma tried to bring that into another throw but Ryouga blocked,
catching Ranma's leg with his own reversed knee-like shin joint, a
curiously and unusually effective move, given the relative angles, and
one that Ryouga promised himself he would remember.

Unfortunately it also brought Ranma in within his guard and Ryouga paid
for it with what felt like a hundred blows into his right side before he
managed to get his guard up again. He could not redirect Ranma's
momentum given the way their legs were locked, so he pulled back and
spun, trying to catch Ranma's arm and pull him off-balance. Ranma was
too quick for him and as Ryouga spun to his right, Ranma dropped his
torso to the ground, scissored his leg upward, and twisted, catching
Ryouga's moving leg and driving it forward, greatly increasing his
momentum.

Ryouga dropped as well, diving forward even as Ranma rose up, right
behind his back after their spin, lashing out with a kick that would
have caught Ryouga hard in the kidney if he had not parleyed the
momentum of the assisted turn into a fall and then a roll. He spun and
kicked upward just as Ranma kicked forward, clearly having expected him
to rise. Ranma had intended to catch Ryouga in the chest as he rose,
instead he found Ryouga's foot against his thigh, propelling him up and
over.

Ranma laughed in delight. Ryouga had never been this clever a
challenger. To be sure, he had always fought with skill, but rarely with
good strategy. Now, he actually seemed to be trying to anticipate what
Ranma would come up with to throw him off and he was occasionally
getting in a good strike because of it.

Ranko watched from the sidelines, content to observe for now. She too
was curious about the change in Ryouga's fighting style. Unlike Ranma,
she had not felt his depression and shame, but she did have Ranma's
memories of their earlier fights, so it was clear even to her that
Ryouga was fighting quite differently from his usual norm. He had yet to
bellow a challenge at Ranma, unless that howl could be counted as such.
She did not think so, though. It sounded more like a victory cry to her,
as if he were celebrating having out-foxed Ranma in battle, which, she
had to admit, was something worthy of celebration.

More to the point though, it seemed that Ryouga was adjusting to his new
status and form quite well. Indeed, he seemed more in control of himself
than had ever been the case, judging by Ranma's memories of him.

She gasped when Ryouga drew first blood, carving a gash across Ranma's
chest. Ryouga immediately stopped, looking contrite and apologetic,
actually whining with emotion, but Ranma just laughed. "This is
something you'll have to get used to Ryouga. We can't hold back against
these things, and that means we've got to practice hard. You won't hit
the wall, anymore. It isn't there for you, just like it isn't there for
me, and one of the ways to improve, now, is to get beat to within an
inch of your life. Get hurt that bad, and you'll come back stronger than
before. I dunno where Fey got the idea, but I guess it kinda makes
sense. If we face something bad enough to take us down, as long as we
survive, we'll come back with an even better chance against it. Now,
come on!"

Ryouga seemed doubtful but when Ranma came at him, unwilling to stop for
a mere scratch, he got back into it, and soon they were fighting hard
again. Ryouga was the next to be injured but he bore it stoically,
recognizing that he had to be able to take whatever Ranma and Ranko
could, if he was to prove his worth to them.




An Unexpected Request


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?"




Facing the Test


Bast stood once more with Shen Long at a window overlooking the
encampment where tents were being prepared for the night. "Well, dinner
was excellent, I must congratulate you. But what of your potential
champions? I've looked on them, as you requested, and I grant you've
caught my interest, so when begins your test?" She turned away from the
window, molding her body to the stone wall as she watched Shen Long's
face.

"The tests have already begun. The first has been passed."

Bast straightened, a look of irritation quickly smothered with practiced
skill. "Ah, but Shen Long, you promised to let me watch," she purred,
stepping forward and placing a hand on his chest, tapping it lightly
with her claws. "You wouldn't be breaking your promise to me, would you?"

A deep laugh rumbled beneath her hand. "You have watched, for as we ate,
did any food disappear other than that which we ate?"

"No... you mean your test was whether they would steal from a sacrifice?
Lowering your standards, aren't you?" Her nose wrinkled as if she had
smelled something disgusting.

"Not at all... the boy is the son of a craven thief who has more than
once defiled temples and stolen that which belongs to the gods, and is
ever ruled by his hungers. Shortly before they came here, the boy
learned a technique his father intended for skilled thievery, that would
keep him hidden from the eyes of the people outside. He could have
slipped away and taken part in our feast, eating of the best they had to
offer, instead of sufficing with rice and pork. He would simply have had
to allow hunger to rule him, and to show no respect for the temple."

"Alternatively, all three are strong enough now to force their will upon
the villagers outside, who are already weakened. They could have forced
the villagers, as you know some would have done, to offer their
sacrifice to them, to treat them as gods. In fact, after having heard
their story, the boy could readily have gone away and come back in a
draconic form and pretended to be me!"

Bast nodded, glancing back out the window. "So, that they did none of
these things, threatened no-one, and accepted their offered hospitality
without complaint, passes your test?"

"It does. That, and agreeing to aid these people, when they have no
need. This is but a youma, far from being what they were granted power
to defeat. They are not demon-hunters, they are here to defeat a far
greater foe, one beyond all the demon-hunters and endowed champions yet
present. Yet they do not shy away from this minor task. This shows that
they take seriously the code of the martial artist, again something that
is not true of the boy's father, who trained and raised him."

---

"Ranma?" Ryouga lay back in his bedroll, waiting while Ranma was laying
out his own. They were sharing his tent, while Ranko took Ranma's, now
that they had two tents to work with.

"Yeah?" responded Ranma as he slipped into his bedroll, sighing
silently, and thinking how strange it was to be missing Ranko's presence
after such a short time.

"You said you were going to see your mother, right?" Ryouga turned,
propping his head up on his hand as he faced his friend. 

"Yep, when we get back to Japan. I don't know where she is but I guess
Fey does."

"What's she gonna think about Ranko?" Ryouga paused, wanting to say
more, but not wanting to insult either of his new friends.

"I dunno, Ryouga. I don't even know what she's gonna think about me. I
haven't seen her since I left with... since I left. Heck... I don't even
remember what she looks like." Ranma was lying on his back, facing
upwards, his eyes suspiciously shiny.

"Well... I reckon she has to be pretty traditional, right? I mean, you
mentioned a seppuku pledge when you were fighting... fighting Genma.
That's pretty old-fashioned, don't you think?"

"Maybe," replied Ranma, thinking again about the contract he had in his
pack, with Genma's signature. Would his mother really make him kill
himself if he didn't have that to protect him? Was that what a mother did?

"Well... I was... uhm..." Ryouga lay back, trying to think how best to
phrase what he had to say. "Uh... when Ranko introduced herself, it was
just as 'Ranko,' earlier... and..."

Ranma sat straight up, eyes wide and staring into nothing. "She doesn't
have a family name! She's... she's rounin... no, worse, she ain't
Japanese!"

"Whoa, not so quick, Ranma," Ryouga said, sitting up as well, and
glancing nervously at the side of the tent, towards where Ranko must be
sleeping or preparing for sleep, in Ranma's tent. "She is Japanese, you
said that was your body she got, not her old one. And she's got your
memories. So she's just as Japanese as you or me, really."

"But... but she's rounin," Ranma whispered, feeling his heart clench in
his chest. It felt like it would shrivel up and vanish in a moment. He
clenched his hands into fists, staring at them. They were all he knew,
before Ranko, the only tool he had, that and an insulting tongue. He
could hardly imagine a future to begin with; he could certainly not
picture his mother, nor what his home might look like. But he found that
picturing any future without Ranko tied his stomach in knots. He felt a
hot wetness trickle down his cheek. Am I crying? I haven't cried in
years! He shook his head furiously, dashing the tear from his cheek, but
his anger could not last in the face of the terrible depression that
settled on him. 

"Oh, man, what am I gonna do?" He turned to Ryouga, hands catching
Ryouga's arms, gripping cruelly tight with the force of his emotion.
"What am I gonna do, Ryouga? I can't... I just can't be without her!
I..." He shuddered, dropping Ryouga's arms, not noticing the bright red
marks quickly fading to white before darkening back to angry red bruises
on Ryouga's arms. "I might as well commit seppuku, if I can't have her,"
he whispered, hopelessly. Fey had said he was going to take them to his
mother, who would surely order him to have nothing more to do with
Ranko, as a rounin. Would Ranko even want him, if he had nothing more
than himself to offer her? She had said she thought she loved him, but
that was when she knew they were going to see his mother. What if she
didn't want him, if he had to give up his name, his mother, to be with
her? He would be left with nothing. He collapsed into an unresponsive
despair, his mind reciting a litany of losses going as far back as he
could remember.

Ryouga was temporarily at a loss, unable to deal with the sudden and
complete collapse of his new best friend. He had no way of knowing how
hard Genma's final abandonment of Ranma had hit him, how hard it had
been learning that Genma had never intended to allow him to see his
mother again. Ranko and Fey had supported him, cushioning the blow. The
prospect of losing his mother and Ranko, and the terrible thought that
Fey might choose to keep Ranko as his champion if that happened, rather
than him, since Ranma would lose the right to practice the Musabetso
Kakuto Ryu if he was made rounin, while Ranko would still have the magic
of an Amazon battle-mage to fall back on, the terrible possibility that
all he had suffered truly would be in vain, had destroyed the last of
Ranma's faltering hope.

He had spent most of his life buoyed by the knowledge that his father
was training him for something, that all of his pain was for some
greater purpose. He lost that at Jusenkyou, and had it replaced by
something far greater, but something that seemed all too much like a
dream. It was difficult for him to believe that Ranko's affection,
something he had never had before, and Fey's respect, another gift he
had never before received, could possibly be real. All the time it felt
like something too good to be true, and he had unconsciously been
waiting for it to be snatched away, even as his food had been for so
long, as his friends had been, and as every comfort he had ever known
had been. He had been unwittingly primed for Ryouga's words, and his
mind had raced along the path of possibilities, finding in the barest of
instants the path that led to the most complete loss for him, the path
that his sixteen years of hard experience had taught him would be his.

Ryouga watched in startled fear as Ranma collapsed in on himself,
falling into a silence that seemed to highlight the lack of life in his
dull eyes, then he darted from the tent, bursting into Ranma's tent
without the slightest concern for Ranko's probable state of dress.

She shrieked in surprise, snatching up a blanket from her bedroll to
wrap about herself. The look of intense guilt and depression on Ryouga's
face forestalled any adverse reaction she might have had, and in moments
she was dressed again and entering Ryouga's tent, while he anxiously
stood guard without.

She vanished from the entrance of the tent, appearing at Ranma's side
with no sign that she had passed the intervening space, pulling him into
her arms. Slowly she coaxed the story, mixed in with his fearful
predictions and expectations, out of him.

He began sobbing uncontrollably, dry heaves that seemed to rise from
great depths, though no tears followed the track of the first to fall in
years. Ranko was not willing to wait until he was finished. She could
not bear the thought of him actually believing that she would leave him,
that she might want his name more than him, or only love him because he
was the heir to a school of martial arts. She pulled him up and slapped
him hard.

Ranma put his hand to his cheek, staring at her with wide eyes. 

"Never," Ranko said firmly. "I will never leave you." She brushed her
hand across the still glistening track of that one solitary tear,
knowing from his memories how long it had been since he had last cried.
"No matter what your mother thinks of me, I love you, Ranma."

His smile, if a bit uncertain, was one of joy as he embraced her
fiercely. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I ain't never had nothing good
that didn't get taken away."

"I know," she said, pushing him back until she could look into his eyes.
"I forgive you. I forget sometimes that just because I know you
completely, you don't know me the same way. I know, I absolutely know,
that your heart, once given, will never be lost to me. I wish you could
know the same about me, but please, Ranma, please believe me. I love
you, and I'll never let anything take me away from you."

---

"Ryouga?" Ryouga snorted and rolled over. His name was called twice more
before he finally sat up. 

"Wha? Ranma? What's wrong?" It was late, too late for talking, he
thought, but he did not say it. After seeing how much his careless...
well, no, they had not been careless words, since they had been spoken
out of concern for Ranma, but... ill-chosen, then, how much his
ill-chosen words had hurt his friend, the least he could do was to
sacrifice a little sleep. He had actually been surprised at how quickly
Ranma had seemed to drift off to sleep after Ranko had left, and he had
re-entered their tent. At the time he had thought it an indication that
he had been right to go and get Ranko, rather than trying to muddle
through and maybe make things worse.

"What do you know about getting married?"

---

With the rising of the sun, the three warriors set off, guided by a
young man who introduced himself as Jun Lo Wen. Like most of the
villagers, Jun looked haggard, his eyes darkened by remembered pain and
loss, but he had not yet been affected physically, and he set a good
pace.

As they walked with Jun, he spoke to them, with Ranma listening and
commenting while Ranko translated for Ryouga. He described the village
and its surroundings, and its relation to the hill they had spoken of
the evening before, the hill where the sorcerer Jiaohou had built his
new house, before he had summoned Yao Mo Wen, the youma of disease and
sickness.

He also spoke of his own personal tragedy. His young wife had been
pregnant with their first child when the child-killing illness had
struck, and it had taken both mother and child. That was why he had
volunteered to guide them. He had no-one to leave behind if he fell.

Ranko had little time to ponder his words, busy as she was translating
for Ryouga, but Ranma took them to heart, stealing glances at Ranko and
imagining her dead of illness. Finally he stopped them and took Ranko
aside.

"I know we've got improved healing, and healing spells," he said softly,
not wanting his words to carry, though Ryouga, standing with Jun Lo Wen,
heard them clearly. "But do you think you can come up with a spell to
protect against illness and disease? I've tried, but I can't think of
how to picture it."

Ranko nodded thoughtfully, furrowing her brow. Finally she looked up and
nodded sharply. "I think I've got it... go grab Ryouga and Jun."

Ranma brought them over to her just as she finished her chant. A green
light flared from her hands, then a sparkling shell of translucent green
formed around each of them before fading from view.

"What was that?" inquired Ryouga curiously, looking down at himself but
seeing nothing different.

"A ward against this youma's main weapon," Ranko replied. "Ranma's idea."

Ryouga looked at Ranma and nodded. "Good idea. I don't really fancy
getting any of those diseases Jun's been describing." He shivered.

Feeling better about facing Yao Mo Wen with the visible evidence that
these warriors did in fact have the favor of the gods--Ryouga's wolf
form being at their own admittance a curse and no gift--Jun led them
with a lighter, if still heavy, heart towards his home.

He left them within sight of the village, reminding them that the
villagers had food enough for only four more days.

Ranma, Ranko, and Ryouga stood alone now on the outskirts of a silent
village. A faint stench seemed to hang over it, a mixture of the rotting
flesh of animals and the rice, rotting in the fields. Ranma turned a bit
green at the thought that he had just eaten that rice, until Ranko
pointed out that they had doubtless been using stored rice, or rice
purchased from elsewhere, as they would hardly be likely to continue
eating anything that had the effects of the black growths they had
described.

"Look, over there," interjected Ryouga, pointing across the village.
Over the waving heads of what rice remained standing a building could be
seen highlighted against the sky, standing on a hill. A cloud of patchy
fog seemed to hug the hill, obscuring the bottom of the house in places.

"That would be the sorcerer's place," agreed Ranma. "What do you think,
should we head straight in?"

Ranko glanced at him doubtfully. "We would be meeting him on his
ground," she pointed out.

Ryouga nodded. "It would be better if we picked the ground, but do you
think we can draw him out?"

"We could set fire to the house," offered Ranma. "That'd bring him out."

"I wonder why the villagers have not already burned the house?" Ranko
mused.

"They're scared to go near it," Ranma replied, and waved his hand in the
direction of the hill, "if that fog's there all the time they probably
think it is full of disease."

"Might well be, if there really is a youma there," nodded Ryouga.

"Well, we don't have to worry about that," conceded Ranko, "but what if
Jiaohou is still in there?"

Ryouga shook his head. "Seems to me that the only way he'd still be
alive is if he was working with it. Besides, he did summon the thing."

"We don't know that," Ranko protested. "He might have simply tried to
bring his wife back, but she was in Wen's hands, or something."

"Alright," Ranma allowed, "we won't burn him out. So, how are we..."

Ryouga interrupted him, pointing down the road into the village.
"There's something moving down there." He peered at it, but though his
eyes had caught the movement well enough, the lack of color was making
it difficult to recognize. He simply wasn't used to how things looked
through his new eyes yet.

Ranko shaded her eyes and gazed in the direction he pointed while Ranma
nodded. "Yep, I see it," Ranko replied, "look, there's another beyond it."

They watched as the movement passed across the road. Three or four
creatures at most, they stood no higher than a dog, but when Ryouga
ventured that they did not move like dogs, or indeed, any animal he
could remember seeing, Ranko and Ranma were quick to agree.

"Lesser youma?" ventured Ryouga tentatively.

"That," agreed Ranma, "or diseased animals. The odd movement could come
from sores like Jun mentioned." 

The others considered this then agreed. "So, I guess the question that
brings up is, assuming these are infected animals, are they under Wen's
control or not?"

Ranma shook his head doubtfully, starting to walk down the road. "Either
way they're likely to be dangerous." The animals, if that was what they
were, had passed on across the road and out of sight, and the village
seemed still and silent again.

Ryouga agreed, following Ranma but keeping a wary eye on the rice fields
around them. "Some kinds of illness just make them apathetic, but my
guess would be anything inflicted by a youma is more likely to make them
rabid or drive them mad."

Ranko shivered as they approached the outmost building. She felt
unclean, her background as an Amazon in an earlier time causing her to
feel uneasy about breaking the taboo of avoiding places of illness and
plague. She wanted to just wipe it clean, to just reach out... wait...
that was it. "Hold up," she said excitedly, her eyes lighting up as
Ranma and Ryouga paused to look at her.

"We want to draw Wen out still, right? And even after we defeat him,
these people will have a lot of work recovering. So, what if we did some
rather flashy magic to heal the area. That would be a pretty direct
challenge right at his strength, right?"

Ranma nodded dubiously. "I expect he might respond, but it would have to
be something pretty noticeable, and something that big might leave you
weak."

"Oh, come on, Ranma," Ranko said, shaking her head and giving him a
glare, "we're talking about one youma! You've been beating up on demons.
You should be able to take him yourself. Ryouga can protect me if I am
weakened too much by it, but I won't really be doing it. I'll call on
Fey. Divine magic should make it an even more blatant challenge, it'll
be less draining on me, and..."

"Not that much less," protested Ranma. "But you're right. This is just
one youma. So, you going to try to clean up the town?"

Ranko huffed at his interruption but shook her head again and pointed
past the town. Ryouga nodded and spoke before she could. "You'll clean
up the rice fields leading up the hill," he said approvingly. "And
hopefully at the same time, clear up some of that mist in case we do
have to go in." He turned to look at her. "Right?"

"Yep," she said with a grin. "If I'm really lucky, the spell will go far
enough to actually hit Wen and the house. It'll be a healing or
purification spell, so we shouldn't have to worry about it hurting
Jiaohou unless he really is evil."

They entered the town, Ryouga keeping a watchful eye out for any
movement towards them, following the other two by scent in spite of the
general reek that hung over the town. 

He was irritated by Ranko's decision not to have him face off against
Wen, but at the same time pleased that she had chosen him as her
protector. He did not quite understand everything that was going on
between her and Ranma, but he did realize that she had some reason for
doing things the way she was. After all, her argument for why Ranma
could face Yao Mo Wen alone applied equally well to the three of them
facing him in his dwelling. He had not yet had a chance to face off with
the demons, but given how quickly Ranko and Ranma had decimated them and
how well he had held his own against Ranma, he had few doubts. So she
must have some other reason for doing things this way.

Ranko and Ranma were startled by a sudden yelp of pain and a thud and
stopped to see what had happened. Ryouga walked between them and stopped
a moment later. "What's up?" he asked. Ranma looked back the way they
had come then at Ryouga. He grinned and pointed at Ryouga's umbrella.

A thick slime mixed with blood marred one portion of it. Ryouga blushed,
realizing that he had let himself get so deep in his thoughts that he
had lashed out at an approaching animal without even realizing it. He
glanced around for it, when Ranko pointed, gagging. 

Ranma grimaced, shaking his head. "Man, you hit hard when you aren't
looking, don't you?" 

On the wall of a building across the road was painted a smattering of
bloody body parts. Ryouga shook his head. "I don't think so, Ranma," he
replied, looking around. "I've reacted like that to dogs that attacked
me before, and they were just knocked back. Could they be zombies?"

Ranma snorted. "You weren't a wolf-man then either, were you," he said,
punching Ryouga's arm.

Ryouga paled slightly, looking at the thickness of his bicep, then up at
the wall. "Oh, man," he groaned, "I'm gonna have to completely retrain!"

Ranma just grinned, grabbing Ranko by the shoulders and turning her to
face back up the street as he got them moving again. "Don't worry about
it, Ryouga, we'll take care of that."

Ryouga nodded, glanced back once more, then strode resolutely forward.
Just as they were nearing the other end of the village, his fur tipped
ears pricked up and he glanced back again.

"Huh. I guess that answers the question, eh, Ranma?"

Ranma turned to look and nodded. Behind them a number of dogs, several
cats, a pig, and two goats had filtered into the streets and were
following them. All moved oddly, as if every movement pained them.
"Don't think they'll be too much trouble though. They're probably most
dangerous because of the disease, but we're protected from that. Still,
you and I'll have to keep them away from Ranko while she figures out the
spell and casts it."

"Figures it out? She doesn't already know it?"

Ranko glanced back. "No, we've not had to do anything quite like this
before, Ryouga. I just need to get the visualization and words right."

The first... or second, considering Ryouga's earlier ingrained
reaction... attack came just as they were reaching the last few
buildings before the road began to curve away to slide around the base
of the hill.

Ranma looked around as Ryouga sent the diseased canine flying with his
umbrella. With a quick leap, Ranma landed by a wooden fence and caught
up a sturdy pole leaning against the inside of it. The muddy wallow in
one corner of the fenced in area gave a hint to the staff's purpose, but
it would serve well enough in his hands.

He jumped back towards Ryouga and Ranko, snapping the staff down like a
pole vault to continue his leap, testing its strength at the same time.
It bent slightly, but held, propelling him forward to where Ranko had
set herself, standing calmly facing the large house upon the hill while
Ryouga swept a wide arc with his umbrella, keeping the diseased animals
back.

Ranma landed beside him, staff already sliding down to get below a cat
and then whipping up, sending the mad feline flying. Ranko behind him
joined him in the Neko-ken at the sound of the cat's pained yowl. The
pained movement and hairless patches had kept the cats from triggering
the fear earlier, particularly when viewed from a distance, but the
disease had not hampered this cat's ability to screech.

Ryouga did not notice the change in his companions. The slight feeling
of unease that his wolf-side felt at the presence of two powerful
felines was more than overwhelmed by the fear and anger it felt at being
attacked by disease-maddened animals.

Though more animals arrived to swell the ranks of the rabid mob
attacking them, Ryouga and Ranma had no difficulty keeping them at bay.
They were moving swiftly and easily, and had more than enough strength
to send the smaller animals flying without slowing their motions, while
their attackers, though maddened, were weakened by disease and slowed by
pain.

Finally they heard Ranko chanting behind them. When she began to glow,
sending their shadows into the pack of animals, the beasts drew back
fearfully, and Ranma and Ryouga were able to turn enough to keep an eye
on them while watching Ranko's spell.

She was glowing with a pure white light, and as her chant reached its
crescendo, the light flared out, pouring liquidly into the fields before
her, and rolling and crashing like thundering surf against the hill,
sending spumes of light to spray against the house. The mist was washed
away by the glittering light, peeling back to leave the way forward
open, even as Ranko collapsed back into Ranma's waiting arms.




Yao Mo Wen


Ranma caught Ranko gently, looking worriedly into her face. Her eyes
fluttered open and she yawned widely. "Sorry, Ranma. That did take more
out of me than I thought. You go on. Ryouga will protect me until I get
my bearings back."

Ranma nodded, then bending slightly, he scooped her up and deposited her
in Ryouga's arms, pointing at a building a short distance behind them.
"You ought to be able to make it up there in that form," he told Ryouga.
"That way you won't have to split your attention between Ranko and these
beasts." He handed Ryouga his pack and Ryouga shifted Ranko to one arm
long enough to slip a strap of Ranma's pack over his shoulder.

Ryouga nodded, and the two turned away, Ryouga back to the village,
Ranma facing the house on the hill. A few bounding strides took Ryouga
past the circling but still uncertain animals, and then a single
powerful leap took him up over the eaves and onto the roof, where he
turned to watch his friend going to face the youma alone. He shifted
Ranko so that she was sitting upright in his lap, so that she could
watch Ranma. He tried, with little success, to ignore the warm feel of
her weight on him, the light scent of her hair as it drifted back in the
breeze.

Ranma was just reaching the path that led out from the door of the
house. His feet and legs glowed in the afternoon light. Apparently the
liquid light Ranko had poured onto the fields was mobile and had caught
on his pants. The fields themselves still glowed with a soft light,
twinkling brighter here and there, and the animals seemed unwilling to
venture into it after Ranma.

During Ranma's passage up the hill the house had remained silent, no
reaction to their challenge apparent, but as he reached the door, a loud
slam was heard. Wasting no time, Ranma leapt onto the roof of the house
and over, seeing a man fleeing. Ranma cursed mentally. Was the man Yao
Mo Wen? Or Jiaohou, freed by the distraction? Should he give chase, or?

"Lord Fey," Ranma called out, "Show me Yao Mo Wen!" His voice carried
over the wind to the waiting pair and Ranko nodded approval, pleased
beyond measure that he had been willing to ask for help when he needed it.

A moment later Ranma leapt from the roof and streaked after the fleeing
man as on the very wings of the wind. Ranko sighed and shifted in
Ryouga's arms to look up at him.

"I don't know if this falls within the powers Ranma gave you, but please
try. Picture in your mind a mirror in front of us, only instead of our
reflections, it shows what Ranma is seeing right now. Have you got it?"

Ryouga nodded, his eyes closed. "Alright, now, repeat after me. I call
on thee, Lord Fey, from avatar to champion grant us the gift of sight
through his sight."

Ryouga repeated the words dutifully. He was chagrined when nothing
happened. Ranko growled. "Damnit, I'm too weak to cast it right now!"

Ryouga looked down at her red hair, then off into the distance where
Ranma had vanished. "Well, I can't do it, I guess... but I'm not tired.
Can't you borrow my strength to do it?"

Ranko's mouth dropped open and she turned in his arms to look up at him.
"Are... are you sure?"

"Hey," Ryouga replied, grinning, "I don't want to miss the big fight
scene anymore than you do."

Ranko nodded, thinking furiously. How could she accomplish this? How
could she draw on his strength? Theoretically there must be some spell
that she could cast to do it, but she couldn't imagine what right now,
nor did she have the strength for that sort of spellcasting in the
first place. Then it came to her.

"Don't take this the wrong way," she said, opening her mouth. Ryouga
noted her lengthening fangs and said nothing, merely tilting his neck.
The entrance of her fangs was a short, sharp pain, then he felt only the
warmth of her lips and tongue against his neck. He groaned involuntarily.

She drank slowly but as she had feared, no strength came to her. So, in
spite of the similarities, she and Ranma were not vampires. It was in
fact a comforting thought, particularly since she had not expected it to
work. She had, in taking this course, a slightly different idea in mind.
She pictured the gift and immediately was aware of flames within him.
She drew one back, the one he would, in her opinion, be least likely to
miss immediately, the gift of immortality, the sundering of the barrier.
Since he had not yet approached that barrier himself, he should not miss
it much, and it would be returned before too much longer, she hoped.

As she had hoped, when she released her concentration on the gift and
pulled away, she felt the flame fill her with new strength as she licked
his wound closed.

Turning in Ryouga's arms once more, so that she faced the direction
Ranma had left in, she chanted the words she had given to Ryouga, save
that where she had told him to say champion, she substituted avatar.

Little time had passed, and when the mirror formed before them, they saw
trees whipping past and but a short distance ahead the fleeing form of a
man.

"Yao Mo Wen!" they heard Ranma's voice cry out, "Turn and face me, if
you be not a coward!"

Ranko shook her head. "Of course he's a coward, Ranma, else why would he
have run in the first place?"

They saw a green flash and an actinic flare of light and heard Ranma
grumble, "Damn needles."

"He's trying to poison him," said Ryouga, leaning forward in concern.

"Yep," Ranko answered. "That green must have been the spell from before."

"How much will it stand up to?" Ryouga questioned, frowning. He didn't
like not being there with his friend.

"Don't worry so much, Ryouga," Ranko answered. "It's just a precaution
anyway. He should be fine without it. And he needs this."

Ryouga nodded to himself. He had thought she had some ulterior motive
for this. Now he realized it was in connection to Ranma's breakdown the
night before. She must be trying to show her... their confidence in him
by allowing him to take on this challenge by himself.

Ranma was extremely irritated. He had just about caught up with the
fleeing youma when it had suddenly launched a cloud of mist or smoke
that had rendered sight useless, and, based on how the green glow that
immediately surrounded him, was also either poisonous or diseased.

A powerful upward leap had taken him out of the cloud and into the
branches above, but he had still lost ground in his chase. He was just
coming up on the man again when he suddenly felt as if he was not alone.
He grinned. That must have meant Ranko had recovered and was watching him.

He shouted out a challenge, to which the man responded with a flurry of
needles, most of which Ranma managed to avoid, though a few caused his
shield to flare. "Damn needles."

He could have easily crossed the gap between them and taken the man down
at any time, but the simple fact that the man seemed human was holding
him back. It could be that Jiaohou had been possessed by Wen and might
still be freed, but that would hardly be possible if his body was cut to
shreds by Ranma's claws. How much physical punishment would it take to
free a man possessed by a demon?

He was sure Ranko would know what to do with him, he just had to find a
way to catch him. At least by leaping from tree to tree he was managing
to avoid the occasional thick bushes that were slowing Wen up. Wait,
that was it! He was not touching the ground, and Wen was!

"Lord Fey," he cried out, struggling to maintain a proper visualization
while keeping up with the fleeing youma, "let this man's path be frozen
and slick!"

Yao Mo Wen went into a headlong crash as he lost his footing on the
suddenly frozen ground. He flipped over just as Ranma landed beside him.
"Good night," Ranma grinned, punching the man hard, square between the
eyes. Wen blinked and hissed, lashing out with a hand stretched into
talons, raking Ranma's torso, though the green flare implied the poison
the talons were coated with had been neutralized.

Ranma roared with anger. "By Fey! I said good night!" he shouted,
lashing out again, this time with the power of an inadvertant curse
behind him. Wen slumped and lay still. Ranma put a hand to his own
chest, feeling the bloody strips of skin where he had been sliced.

Bending down, he heaved the man onto his shoulder then took off into the
night.

---

Ryouga looked down at Ranko. "He's heading back, should we go down to
meet him?"

Ranko shook her head. "No reason to deal with those animals. We'll just
wait here."

"We could go in the house. They seem afraid of the light."

"Yes, but we don't know what else might be in there as well."

Ryouga conceded, unwilling to bring up the real reason he had made the
request. He didn't think Ranma would react particularly well to seeing
Ranko in his arms, and he was beginning to question his own ability to
stay focused now that the excitement was over and there was nothing to
distract him from the feel of her in his arms.

Ranko banished the spell, sighing in relief as the strain of holding it
left her, then turned her mind to the question of what to do with Yao Mo
Wen when Ranma returned with him. She thought as Ranma did, from the
human appearance of the youma, that it had possessed Jiaohou when he
summoned it. 

The concept of banishing the demon seemed simple enough, except how
could they ensure that the demon did not manage to take Jiaohou with it
when it was banished?

Ryouga breathed a silent sigh of relief when Ranko rose and began pacing
in thought, muttering to herself, though he too rose. He stepped past
her to stand between her and the roof's edge.

When she stopped and stood looking out over the hill, he turned as well
and watched as Ranma came bounding out of the trees, through the now
dimly flickering fields, and up onto their rooftop with his unconscious
burden.

"So," he said, breathing heavily, as he slid the man from his shoulder
to lie on the thatch of the roof, "how are we gonna separate the two, if
this is Jiaohou? His gaze and question were directed at Ranko who still
looked thoughtful.

"I'm not sure yet. Let me think on it for a few minutes." Ranko resumed
her pacing, though Ranma stepped forward and guided her away from the
edge, while Ryouga squatted by the apparently possessed man, noting his
elongated fingers, that ended now in sharp talons dripping with a black
liquid.

He looked up at Ranma, remembering the point just as Ranma had finally
taken the fleeing youma down, when it had reached up and lashed out at
him. Sure enough, four angry red welts were visible through the rents in
Ranma's shirt, with dried blood caked below them. He felt a momentary
surge of anger at the unconscious man lying beside him, and then a
strange sense of the unreality of it, that he was feeling angry about a
threat to someone to whom, just a short time before, he would have been
the one making threats.

Finally Ranko looked up and nodded decisively. "The safest thing is to
stick with what we know. Ranma, summon him. It'll either do nothing,
bring both of them, or separate him. If it does nothing, we try
something else, if it brings both, then at least they didn't both end up
banished to wherever Yao Mo Wen came from, and if it separates them,
we'll take Yao Mo Wen out after forcing him to remove all the disease
he's been plaguing this village with."

Ranma grinned. "I knew you'd figure it out," he said happily.

Striding away from the unconscious body, he took a stance then muttered
a low chant, this time naming the being he was summoning, to make sure
he got the right one. A shimmering glow lit the downed man and a pale,
emaciated and sore-ridden caricature of a man stood before Ranma. It
looked down then cackled gleefully.

"You forgot the warding circle," it chortled, "I'm free, now I'll... achhh!"

Ranma interrupted its celebration by lifting it from the ground, his
hand firmly about its thin neck. It choked and gargled, grabbing at his
hands with thin sharp talons.

"Remove the sickness you laid on this village," ordered Ranma coldly.

The thing boggled at him, eyes wide, then shook its head furiously and
bit at him. Ranma smashed it upside the head, ignoring the flickering
green glow that lit it when it tried to scratch at him. Visibly steeling
himself, Ranma reached out and calmly broke one of its fingers, ignoring
its pained screech. It is just a demon, I can't really kill it, it'll
just go back to where it came from.

He loosened his hand just slightly. "Alright, alright," it screeched.
"I'll do it."

"Now," growled Ranma, glaring at it. The creature sighed then seemed to
slump as it nodded. It waved an emaciated hand, the one without a broken
finger. Ranma looked at Ranko, who muttered for a moment under her
breath before looking about. She turned back and nodded at him. "Very
good," he said, grinning at the thing. "Then there's no more reason for
you to stay." He released its neck even as he extended his ki claws and
drew them across, severing its head before it even realized it had been
released. It crumbled into ashes.

"Is Jiaohou still free of it?" he asked, turning to Ranko. She looked at
the man, then knelt beside him, putting a finger and his forehead and
muttering to herself. 

When she stood again she nodded, then folded in on herself. Ryouga
caught her. "She needs rest," he told Ranma.

Ranma nodded. "We'll have to watch her. We've got three and a half more
days... or rather, they do. Of food, I mean."

"At the least, yeah."

Ranma turned and looked up at the house. "I want to take advantage of
what light we have left. I'd rather know there's nothing up there
waiting for night." He turned back to Ryouga. "Watch her for me, will
you?"

"Of course," Ryouga nodded, "but... you've already fought once today.
Are you sure I shouldn't go?"

Ranma shook his head. "The smells around here are still too jumbled. I
don't want to take a chance on losing you. Just watch her," he answered,
turning and leaping from the building.

Ryouga swallowed the lump in his throat. "Glory-hog," he muttered, but
his heart wasn't in it, as his mind replayed Ranma's words.

Ranma pondered the villagers' story as he ran up to the house. It seemed
very strange that they should reach that temple just as the villagers
came there to ask for help from a dragon. He knew that Fey was real,
really existed, did that mean Shen Long did as well?

If so, then where were Shen Long's warriors? Or maybe that Oracle had
just seen them arriving near the temple and known that if the villagers
went there, they would be attracted by the smells. But if that was the
case then surely that food would have been given to them instead of
sacrificed to Shen Long.

He wondered, as he opened the door to the house, what the Oracle would
say if he asked about Ranko and himself. Would his mother accept them?
Would she be more accepting if they were already married? Was he ready
for that?

Ranma grew steadily more frustrated as he moved through the house. He
had been hoping for something to pound on to take his mind of these
persistent questions. It had not been so bad when he had been able to
listen to Jun, or when he was focused on chasing down Yao Mo Wen, but
now, with nothing immediate to take his mind off his problems, his mind
was filled with questions to which he had no answers.

Finally he gave up on finding anything worth fighting in the house and
stormed back outside. He began cursing when he realized that the animals
that had been clustered between the fields and the village had wandered
off, leaving a few dead behind. 

Ryouga had looked up when Ranma exited the building, assuming from the
lack of loud noise since his entrance meant that there had been nothing
of interest inside, and was disturbed to see Ranma stop suddenly and
laugh maniacally before raising his hands into the air.

He understood when Ranma's shout reached him.

"Damnit Fey, gimme something to fight!"

Several flares of red and green light around him signaled the arrival of
half a dozen demons. Ranma didn't wait for them to reorient themselves,
whirling into action immediately.

The sound of breaking bones, curses, and shouts of pain and anger
drifted across the evening air as the sun slowly sank down past the
nearby hills.

Ryouga split his attention between his charge and watching Ranma fight
the demons. He understood better now, as Ranma worked off his
frustrations, why Ranma had taken so quickly to demon summoning. Ryouga
had a tendency to lash out when he got frustrated, often doing
considerable property damage as a result. Fighting someone you could
actually go all out against was much more relaxing, but he rarely had
the opportunity.

"I'll have to get Ranma to summon some for me sometime," he mused. "I
wonder if I could learn to summon them myself?" He considered that
thought for a moment. He had not managed the spell Ranko had tried to
have him perform, but was that because it wasn't one of the abilities he
had received, or because he wasn't skilled enough? Or it might even be
simply that he could not cast spells on Ranko or Ranma. That made a
certain amount of sense, with them being Fey's avatars and all.

As his eyes turned back once more from Ranma's continuing brawl to look
at his charge, they stopped briefly on his hairy paw, resting against
the roof as it supported him. "Hmph. In all that, Ranma never used his
other form."

The thought reminded him that he hadn't seen either of Fey's avatars'
other forms since Ranma's first demonstration. Indeed, if it weren't for
his own current lupine form, he would have begun to doubt his own
memory. Instead, he progressed to wondering what Ranko's other forms
looked like. A moment later he found himself holding his nose. He pulled
his paw away and looked at it for a moment.

Despite his expectations, the fur on his palm was neither matted nor
wet. Experimentally he remembered what Ranko had looked like when he had
burst in on her the night before. He quickly banished the image,
ashamed, but not before determining that it had not triggered the usual
nasal discharge.

Idly he wondered if it was an attribute of his hybrid form or of the
powers Ranma had given him that he no longer got a nosebleed when
thinking about a girl's unclothed skin. To be sure, it could not be
Ranko, for he found her as attractive as he could ever remember finding
a girl, though he would never act on it. She was Ranma's and he had
decided to be Ranma's friend. Hadn't he?

Ryouga was still deep in thought, staring at Ranko as she slept, when
Ranma leapt onto the roof. Ryouga looked up with a startled cry.

"Hey, yo, calm down wolf-boy, it's just me."

"You finished them off?"

"Yeah."

"You'll have to get me some to play with sometime."

"Sure, if you want. Right now I just want some sleep." 

Ranma sat lightly then sighed as he arched his back before flopping back
onto the roof, staring up. "I always did like that about this trip,"
Ranma said after several minutes of silence. Ryouga had joined him in
laying back and staring up at the stars.

"The stars?"

"Yeah, there's so many more of them than you can see when you're near a
city. I've seen some really neat places, you know. Bet you have too, huh?"

"It doesn't make up for it," Ryouga said, though without irritation.

"I know," sighed Ranma, "but you have'ta find something to be happy
about. Kami knows they don't show up if you don't look for them."

"Except one," Ryouga snorted, poking Ranma. "A blessing, didn't you say?"

Ranma laughed softly. "Yeah, except one." He rolled his head to the side
to look at her, then turned back and jabbed Ryouga in the ribs. "We'll
find you one, don't worry, Fangs."

Ryouga growled softly but said nothing. A girl that would look at him
the way Ranko looked at Ranma... that was more than he could hope for,
with his life. He sighed.

Ranma jabbed him again. "Come on, don't get all dopey on me again! Bet
you didn't think you'd ever find a cure for your direction sense,
either, did ya?"

Ryouga snorted. "No, but this isn't exactly a cure, Ranma." He held up a
hairy arm. "I still can't go into any cities looking like this."

"Yo, Ryo-man," Ranma shifted to look at his friend. "Me and Ranko go cat
without going all the way cat, you know?"

"So?" retorted Ryouga, staring up at the North star. It too had once
promised a solution to his problem. Brightest star in the sky. Hmph.
Might do some good too, if it would stop moving.

"So, how do you manage to get where you're going, like this?"

"I can follow the scents. I already told you that." Ryouga traced the
line of the Milky Way with his eyes. You couldn't even see that in the
cities, but it didn't help in the wilderness, either. Everytime he
looked at it it ran a different direction.

"Yeah? Well, when we use the Neko-ken, without transforming, we can
smell as good as in our cat forms."

Ryouga sat up straight. "Really? But... I don't know the Neko-ken."

"No, but it shouldn't be too hard for you to figure out a Garou-ken or
something like that... or heck, maybe we could just get Ranko or even
Fey to make a magic item to give you a wolf's senses in your normal
form. Bang, instant cure!"

Ryouga lay back down. "That would be cool," he agreed. "But smell may be
great for following somebody. Doesn't mean it would do me any good for
getting somewhere I haven't been."

Ranma nodded. "True, but it would let you get back. You can tell how old
a scent is, right? I can, when I'm in the Neko-ken."

"Yeah, I can tell, mostly."

"So you can backtrack, and you can shorten your journey everywhere you
crossed your path by always taking the oldest fork. And you could cut
down how long it takes you to get someplace cause you'd always know
where you'd already been."

Ryouga nodded thoughtfully. "You know. I think you're right." He looked
over at Ranma. "Wait a minute. You, right? The world must be ending," he
joked.

Ranma lay back and sighed heavily. "Yep, in just about thirty years if
we don't succeed."

"Hey, don't worry about that," joshed Ryouga, hiding his worry over how
easily Ranma had become depressed. That was his gig, not ever-cheerful
Ranma's. "After all, Saotome Ranma never loses!"

Ranma grunted. "If I'm still a Saotome after Momma meets Ranko."

Ryouga fell silent, out of ideas, and not wanting to make things worse.




Cleaning Up


Ranko woke up shortly before the dawn, several hours after Ranma took
over watching from Ryouga after summoning three demons for him to fight.
Lacking the avatars' Neko abilities, he did not have the capacity to
shred the demons once he grew bored with them, so when she awoke he was
still toying with the last one.

Ranma pulled her into his lap and began describing Ryouga's efforts
against the demons. "He does pretty well without any ki techniques but
the lack seems to put him at a disadvantage. We'll need to do something
about that."

"I would have expected his strength in that form would have been
sufficient," Ranko commented, watching Ryouga's lupine form as he
launched driven, punishing kicks and punches. He seemed in total control.

"How long has he been at it?"

"Nearly four hours now. His stamina was always pretty good but it seems
to have been enhanced quite a bit by his new form, or the healing, one
or the other."

"Does that bother you?" she asked, "I know you were pleased when
Fey-sama assured you his changes were not gifts, without price or
requirement."

"No, not really. I had already guessed that the speeded healing would
improve my stamina. I was more concerned about my skill." He sighed,
running his hand lightly along the outside of her leg as he watched
Ryouga skid across the ground after a hard blow from the last demon. "I
wouldn't mind learning a new art, even something forgotten that only the
gods still know. I just wouldn't care for having the knowledge put in my
head without me actually learning it, if you see what I mean."

Ranko nodded, putting her hand on his. "I guess so. I don't know that I
would mind learning new spells without spending the effort, but I..."
She paused, wondering whether it would be safe, considering his state of
mind, to tell him how she had felt when she realized, going into the
town where she had picked up supplies, that she had leapt to the roof
instead of rising with a spell, due to his memories. Or after she had
blown imaginary smoke of off a gun after lighting the fire in front of
Ryouga with a touch of magic, when she had never before so much as seen
a pistol.

Ranma turned his attention from Ryouga back to her, turning his hand
over to grasp hers. "But what?" he asked softly.

She sighed. "Sometimes I feel like I'm losing myself, when I do
something as if by instinct or habit, something I would never have done,
something I know must come from you, from the memories Fey gave me."

Ranma put his arms around her and pulled her close, rocking slightly as
he dipped his head to plant a kiss on her crimson locks. "You won't lose
yourself," he said. "Fey wouldn't let that happen. I wouldn't let him.
I'd make him take the memories back before I'd let that happen."

Ranko shook her head violently, accidentally cracking Ranma in the jaw,
though she barely noticed. "No, no! Don't do that, don't even think
that! I don't ever want to know less of you than I do know. Only more,
only ever more."

Below them, Ryouga finally tired of playing around, wonderful though it
was to have an opponent that he could fight without having to hold back.
He could add no more strength to his blows; he had been fighting at full
power, that being much of the thrill. Instead, he shifted tactics,
moving from punishing body blows and limb breaking, to lethal strikes.

A short series of moves later, the demon lay dead at his feet and
Ryouga, responding once more to inner urges whose source was both new
and obvious, threw back his head and greeted the dawn with a long howl
of victory. The last of the demons crumpled into dust as its essence
fled the plane.

"He looks happy," Ranko said, grinning.

Ranma nodded. "He's happier than I remember him being at school. Being
able to find his way means a lot to him, and being able to fight without
having to hold back is a thrill for both of us, but I think part of it
was a suggestion I made last night."

Ranko looked up at him curiously, but said nothing, wanting Ranma to
continue without prompting. A moment later, with a hopeful grin, he did.
"He mentioned that his new-found ability to get around is of limited
usefulness, since most people won't react well to his current form. I
suggested that you, or if it was beyond you, Fey, could probably find a
way to grant him the wolf's senses in human form, or that he might even
manage to do it himself, the way we can take just that much of the
Neko-ken."

"Well, it's not exactly like he's a student of a wolf-based martial art,
but I suspect you're right, whether through a partial transformation, or
through some additional magic... but I don't think his sense of smell is
quite all of it."

"Yeah, I remember you mentioned something earlier about magnetism? I
didn't really understand it, but I figured between you and Fey we could
come up with something to help him."

Ranko nodded, looking back at Ryouga, just as he leapt to the rooftop.
"I suspect you're probably right."

"About what?" queried Ryouga, walking over to them brushing futilely at
the black demon blood that now matted his fur. 

"About finding some way to give you a sense of direction without
requiring a visible or obvious change in form."

"Really?" Ryouga brightened at the thought, losing interest in his fur.
"You really think it's possible?"

"After what we've seen the Lord Fey do? I've no doubt that it's possible."

"Yechh," interjected Ranma. "Your fur is a mess!" 

Ryouga looked down at himself as Ranko laughed. "Yeah, I guess it is,"
he said, looking up with a grin. "But you ought to see the other guy!"

Ranma chuckled, then suggested that Ryouga shift back to his natural
form and see if that got rid of any of the blood. "At the least, it
should be easier to get clean that way. If you do manage to get lost,
just change back and sniff us out. Or howl. I wonder what the villagers
thought of your howl last night. I think that probably carries a long
way."

Ryouga nodded and muttered under his breath, shrinking suddenly as he
lost both mass, fur, and height. He pulled his shirt away, looking down
at himself, and turned slightly green. "Uhm... I think I'm gonna go look
for a shower, there should be one not being used."

"Hold on a moment," said Ranma, turning to Ranko. "Will you be okay by
yourself for a minute while I help Ryouga find a working shower?"

Ranko nodded. "Most of my strength is back... but remind me, when you
get back, that I have something of Ryouga's to return to him."

"Will do," agreed Ranma, leaping from the rooftop, knees flexing
slightly as he hit the ground and looked up again. He groaned when he
saw Ryouga jump off the wrong side of the roof. 

He hurried around the building as he heard Ryouga shout, "Where'd you
go, Ranma?"

"I'm right here," Ranma laughed as he rounded the building. He grabbed
Ryouga's shoulder. "Come on, let's find a shower for you."

Ryouga glared at his friend. "You could use one yourself, you know."

"Fine, if there's any hot water when you're done, I'll take one after
you."

"Ranko should have first shot at the hot water," protested Ryouga, but
Ranma just laughed.

"Not only can she get clean with her magic, but there is an entire
village of currently unused houses here, Ryouga. Surely there will be
more than one with hot water."

"Don't be too sure," groused Ryouga, looking around at the unkempt
buildings, "I wouldn't be surprised if none of them do."

Ranma shook his head, laughing again. "Don't be so down, Ryouga. If
there's no hot water, then I'll cast a spell to heat it."

Ryouga turned and looked at Ranma with wide eyes, and stammered,
"Sh...shouldn't you let Ranko do that?"

Ranma grinned at his friend. "Don't worry, I'm getting better." Ryouga
shivered and didn't answer, the mental image of the small black pig
racing around a huge pot, darting back and forth to avoid the grasping
arms of demons, running through his head again.

---

"Well?" Bastet turned to Shen Long. "They defeated the youma without any
great difficulty. Is your test finished?"

Shen Long shook his head and grinned. "No, dear goddess, in fact,
defeating the youma was never one of the tests at all!"

Bastet growled softly and picked up a fallen chunk of stone, hefting it
warningly. "You wouldn't mind explaining yourself, would you, Shen
Long?" she asked sweetly, as her hand drifted back into a throwing
position.

"No, no, of course not," laughed Shen Long. "There was never any
question that they could defeat the youma. The test was one of
perception and compassion. Would they perceive that the man was
possessed? And on learning of it, would they free him, or finish him
anyway, knowing that he was the one responsible for the youma's presence?"

"So they passed," stated Bastet, eyeing him.

Shen Long nodded. "Sufficient to deserve rewarding, but they have not
left the village yet. They may yet earn even greater rewards."

Bastet hmmphed and turned away. The fight had been at least mildly
interesting to watch, particularly in the way the boy used the forbidden
techniques; most surprising being that he was able to use them in a
non-lethal fashion.

As for the rest of the night, well, watching angst-ridden teens stare at
each other was not exactly riveting.

---

Ranko sat in silence as she waited for the two boys to return. It would
probably be a while. She expected Ranma would bathe after Ryouga was
done. She raised her hand and flame curled about one finger. She huffed,
and blew it out. Well, she was recovered, basically, though the spell
had not had quite the scale she had envisioned.

Then again, was that such a bad thing? Not that it had taken as much out
of her as it had, but that its scale had been limited. They did not want
to attract the attention of their enemies prematurely.

Rising lithely to her feet, Ranko mulled over Ranma's memories until she
found a slow, low-stress kata. As she entered the first stance, she
wondered whether her thought was right or not. Waiting the full thirty
years would give them the most time to prepare and build a strong team,
yet it would also give the enemy time to prepare, and in thirty years
he, they knew, had a force beyond any of earth's defenders.

"That's it!" she crowed happily, spinning around with eyes wide open.
There was no-one there to share her epiphany with, however, and though
for just a moment she felt the urge to seek them out anyway, she quickly
reconsidered. They would return soon enough and it was best if she not
place any more stress on Ranma just now.

Suddenly afraid that without anyone there to tell, she would forget, she
darted over to where Ryouga had set their packs. There was little, if
anything to write on in Ranma's pack, she knew, and she herself had not
purchased anything to write on or with when in town obtaining supplies.
She sat back on her heels, looking at Ryouga's pack thoughtfully, before
shaking her head.

With a quick spell, she summoned a pen and a pad of paper. She looked
the pen over curiously. Wholly unfamiliar to her, Ranma's uses of them
were few and far enough between that his memories held little in the way
of explanation. A few quick trials sorted it out though, and in moments
the idea was out of her head and on paper. As she reread what she had
written, she sat back, her eyes widening as a deep sigh of relief stole
from her lips. She had written in the Mandarin script of her childhood,
not in Japanese.

Filled with a new sense of well-being, Ranko turned and leaned back
against the backpacks, propping the little notebook, with its white,
unlined pages staring blankly back at her, on her knees, and began to
take notes.

She jotted down each of the events the villagers had described. There
was little they could do about some of them; she had no desire to
attempt to revive the dead. Aside from the idea's own abhorrence, she
feared to draw the attention of death, lest it realize that her own
life's span had come due so many long years ago.

Their crop should be safe now, the pestilence destroyed, but they really
ought to check, since they had only the word of a youma that it was so.
If not, then the fields should be burned to make way for new growth.
That would need trenches for firebreaks, and water to wet down the near
buildings to protect them, or spells to keep in stray embers.

The animals should be well now, though some might need to be put down.
If any were not, healing spells should take care of that. There was also
the issue of the village's health as a whole, though. With poor and
sometimes dangerous food and little of worth from which to derive an
income, ill health would likely be the norm.

They could attempt to heal each person individually, but they were
supposed to be making their way to the coast. There had to be some
alternative. Though swift healing could be passed on through their bite,
they had sworn not to so gift any who would not fight by their sides in
defense of the planet. These were people who had cowered in their homes
for a year while under assault by one man possessed!

Besides, warriors of Shen Long they might seem to the villagers now, but
she doubted that would last beyond the first attempt to drink their blood.

A whuffling sound nearby caught her attention, drawing it away from her
writings, and a moment later Ryouga, his fur glinting in the light as it
lay in wet clumps, sticking up here and there, rose above the eaves to
settle on the roof.

He whuffed again, like a barking cough, and a shiver ran down him,
spraying water for several feet around him. He noticed Ranko when she
stood up and gave her an apologetic glance, though the water had not
quite reached her.

She put away her pen and pad in her pack then turned back to him.
"Alright, Ryouga, turn back human so we can get you dry. You don't want
to smell of wet wolf all day, do you?"

Ryouga shook his head sheepishly, shrinking back into himself, while at
the same time almost seeming to glow as glistening, lightly tanned skin
took the place of dark wet fur. "I had to use my nose to get back," he
said, still apologetic.

"I know," Ranko said, "now hold still for a moment while I figure out
the words." Mmm, she thought to herself as she tried not to ogle his
hard muscles glowing with health and reflected sunlight, I hope Ranma
comes up topless, too.

Ryouga had to take a step back to brace against the warm breeze that
gusted forth past Ranko's raised hands. He turned slowly, making a full
circle before lowering his shaggy head and shaking it back and forth,
letting the wind play through his thick locks.

The breeze died down and Ryouga ran a hand through his slightly damp
hair. "Thanks, Ranko," he said, before sprouting fur once more. He
looked down and brushed his hand over the fur on his chest. "This is
pretty nice," he said as if surprised, "like always having a warm coat
with you."

"Where do you think fur coats come from?" Ranko teased.

Ryouga snorted, looking offended. "Nobody better try to make a fur coat
outta me," he growled. "Or I'll turn 'em into a leather suitcase!"

Ranko just nodded. He noticed her gaze seemed somewhat fixed and he
followed it only to blush furiously. "R-Ranko?" he stammered.

She looked up and grinned, showing fangs and he gulped. She took in his
flushed expression and giggled. "No, no, Ryouga. I wasn't looking there,
honest! I was thinking about your legs."

Ryouga fell over in a dead faint. Ranko hmmphed. "That didn't come out
right," she muttered.

"I'll say," said Ranma from right behind her. She yelped and he laughed.
"Let me guess. You were thinking about getting him to try and get more
human legs as the first step to having just the wolf's senses, right?"

Ranko turned around, eyes wide. Her mouth dropped when she realized that
Ranma was still shirtless, his rough cotton shirt draped over his left
shoulder. Ranko nodded, trying not to drool. "Yeah, but he..."

"I can see," interrupted Ranma. "Poor idiot." His eyes darkened for a
moment. "We'll have to find somebody for him. He's a lot like I was," he
continued, looking into Ranko's eyes, "before I met you. How easy he
gets lost, I don't think he's ever really talked to a girl before."

Ranko nodded. "You might be right. But I don't think we're going to find
anybody out here. Anyway, now that you're back, I could do with a bath
myself. Was there hot water left?"

Ranma shook his head. "No, Ryouga had the right idea there. From what I
saw, they don't shower, they bathe, and they still get hot water by
heating it on a stove or fire, I guess. No running water at all that I
could find. I didn't exactly expect a proper furo, but most of the
places we've been had hot water, whether for a shower or a bath."

"Oh well," she replied. "I've had some time to recoup what I spent. I
think I've enough to handle a bit of hot water." She shook her head and
laughed softly. "Besides, I've never experienced a hot shower or a furo,
except in your memories. The closest I've come was bathing at a hot
spring."

Ranma chuckled with her, one hand rising to tug thoughtfully at his
braid. "Yeah, I guess I wasn't thinking about when you were last around.
You'll do fine here, but wait till I get you in a furo. You'll really
enjoy that." A moment later his face turned beet red as another
interpretation of his words hit him. Ranko just laughed as she leapt
from the roof, the sound of his sputtered apology diminishing behind
her.

Ranma turned back to Ryouga, lying sprawled uncomfortably on the
rooftop. He walked over to the unconscious boy and rolled him over,
grinning. "Idiot," he said wryly, "you just took a shower and here you
are behaving like a mop."

He took a quick look around then chuckled softly. "Looks like you're in
luck, buddy. I don't see any ponds to toss you in to wake you up." He
eyed the pig sty thoughtfully, then shook his head. "Nah. You did just
get clean." So saying, he proceeded to slap Ryouga's face lightly back
and forth, his hand making quiet thuds against Ryouga's furry muzzle,
until the half-wolf shook his head vigorously, as if warding off a fly,
and swept his arm through the air. Ranma drifted out of Ryouga's
flailing arm's way with casual ease, then sat back on his haunches as
Ryouga groaned and straightened, the fur over his stomach rippling in
the pre-dawn light as his stomach muscles flexed in a clean, unaided
sit-up.

Ranma slapped Ryouga's leg, catching his attention. "When we transform,
wolf-boy, our legs come out different depending on how deep we go. I go
further cause of, well, you know... and so my legs look like yours.
Ranko doesn't go so far, and her legs come out pretty human... just
stronger, and furry. What she was saying was you oughta work on getting
more human legs as a step to getting you walking around looking like
something other than a movie monster."

"Deep?" questioned Ryouga, a puzzled look in his lupine eyes.

"Yes, deep. It all depends on how far we go in embracing the cat. I
dunno, though, you might even be able to do it just with picturing it
right, since that's what makes the difference between the full wolf form
and the half-wolf."

Ryouga nodded and muttered under his breath, his features receding, the
visible fur vanishing. "All right, now... how do I control how far...
sorry, how deep I go?"

Ranma grinned. "Heck if I know, dog-boy! You're gonna have'ta figure
that out yourself."

"Some help you are," Ryouga growled, baring his teeth at Ranma. Having
no idea how to control how deep he was, particularly since he had no
real sense of the wolf when not in lupine form, Ryouga decided to try
the visualization method. He groaned unhappily a moment later, shaking
his head. "I can't even picture what I look like like that in the first
place," he complained.

Ranma smirked at him. "Great sense of self you've got there," he jibed,
before shaking his head. "Not to worry, wolf-boy, I've got the answer.
I'll just throw up an illusion of what you look like." So saying he
muttered and wiggled his hands a bit, and sure enough, an image appeared
between them.

Ryouga's eyes bugged out for a moment as he choked. Snarling, he leapt
through the mangy, bedraggled, and corpulent image of himself, driving
his fist into Ranma's stomach. But Ranma wasn't there, having already
slipped to the side. A nudge to his leg from Ranma's foot, giving his
momentum just a little aid, and Ryouga was once more sprawled across the
tiles.

He pounded the roof in irritation and Ranma tsked when several tiles
came loose and shifted about beneath him as he stood. "Bad form, Ryouga,
damaging the property of people you're supposed to be helping. It was
just a joke."

With a furrowed brow, Ranma concentrated on the tiles and murmured under
his breath. Ryouga leapt away as they moved with definite purpose
beneath him. "Shouldn't you let Ranko do that?" he queried, knowing that
she was better with the complicated magics, and remembering his smoking,
sulfurous pack after Ranma had accidentally used demonic magic to summon
it.

"Nah, I got it. 'Sides, I got to get used to it, too. Ain't fair to make
her do it all."

"And if you screw it up, she can fix it, eh?"

"Right," Ranma said with a grin, then gestured at the roof, "but she
won't need to."

Ryouga nodded, seeing that there was no sign of the damage he had
inflicted there. "So can you give me a proper image to use now?" he
asked sourly.

"Yeah, sure," Ranma said, dismissing the earlier image with a wave of
his hand, it having been undisturbed by Ryouga's earlier flight through
it. One more murmured spell later, and a proper image of a half-wolf
Ryouga was floating in the air between them.

Ranma shook his head. "I'm an idiot," he muttered, then shot Ryouga a
glare when the other boy agreed with him. He murmured again and the
image's legs straightened out and thickened slightly, becoming more
human. "If I'm gonna give you an image, I might as well give you one
that will actually get you closer, eh?"

"That's great, Ranma," Ryouga said gratefully, staring at the image.
"Wow, do I really look that tough?"

"Yeah, probably to one of the local nobodys," Ranma jibed. "You don't
look so tough to me."

Ryouga ignored him, focusing on the image and trying to hold it in his
mind. He uttered the activation phrase. The change washed over him, and
he looked down, then gave a disappointed sigh. Not waiting for Ranma to
chivvy him onward, he dropped the transformation and focused on the
image again.

Ranma nodded inwardly. Ryouga could hardly have become the skilled
martial artist he was, especially given his inability to stick to one
spot for long, without a determination bordering on obsession. He
watched as the change flickered over Ryouga again, and then again.

Noting something, he shifted to the side and moved a little closer. He
watched as the change progressed again, noted the height of Ryouga's
hocks. Ryouga dropped back to human and then returned to wolf-form, and
Ranma nodded thoughtfully. Ryouga's hocks were dropping, getting slowly
closer to the ground, where a human's ankles would be.

Ranma sat back, relieved and grateful that Ranko's advice had not been
in vain.

Finally he rolled to his feet and walked over to the still form of
Jiaohou and knelt beside him. "How long are you gonna sleep," he murmured
to himself. He glanced back at Ryouga. "Not that waking up right now
would be a good idea, though."

The man definitely looked sickly in spite of being free of possession.
Yao Mo Wen had clearly not been overly concerned about the health of his
vessel. Then again, he had been possessed for years and he was still
alive, so perhaps Yao Mo Wen had taken more care than Ranma had been
willing to credit.

"Need to see if Ranko's strong enough for a light healing spell when she
gets back. Don't want you dying on us, before . . ."

Ranma fell silent and sat, thinking. What was going to happen to Jiaohou,
after the villagers returned? He remembered his thoughts about Jiaohou's
complicity when they were entering the village the first time,
discussing the possiblity of burning Yao Mo Wen out. Ranko had pointed
out that he might have done little more than try to get his loved one
back. Would he, Ranma, have done any less?

Knowing that it was possible and knowing that it was true were far from
the same thing, however. Trusting to Jiaohou's words or refusing to was
practically the same decision, unless he should choose to incriminate
himself. Would the villagers, who had suffered at Wen's hands, be any
more willing to see Jiaohou's potential innocence of many of the crimes
they laid at his feet than he, who had judged the man harshly without
ever knowing him, or even seeing him?

"What is right?" Ranma asked himself in a puzzled tone. "Do we have the
right to stop their justice? Do we have the right to leave him to it
if it won't be just?"




The Temple of Shen Long


Ranko leapt easily to the rooftop and grinned widely when she saw Ryouga
shifting into his half-wolf form and retaining almost perfectly human
legs, aside from their becoming suddenly hirsute.

Bathing in the eerily silent town had been a nerve-wracking experience
for her, but her uneasiness fled completely as she rejoined her
companions. "You're doing great, Ryouga," she congratulated, smiling.
Ranma nodded.

"We're not too far from being able to wrap him in a cloak and pass him
off in the city," he commented.

"I don't know, Ranma," demurred Ryouga, a frown furrowing his once again
hair-free brow. "I've met more than one demon hunter in my travels. I
don't think I'd fool one of them and they'd probably take my hidden
appearance as proof of my evil." He grew more depressed as he spoke, and
so it was with surprise that he looked up at Ranko's light laughter.

She flowered into her half-tigrine form and purred, "Fey gave us these
forms for a reason. We will face things we cannot defeat without them
and we will not have the option of hiding. Facing demon hunters is
inevitable, no matter how skilled you become at partial transformation."

Ryouga nodded reluctantly, and shook off his depression, even as he
marveled at the beauty of Ranko's form. He grew into his lupine shape
again and looked down at his now human-form legs. He shivered
deliberately, causing his fur to ruffle, then he stamped his feet and
the fur on his legs dropped back into a rich, smooth black fall.

He looked up at his two friends. "That's as much as'll be of use right
off," he stated. "It would take too long to get rid of the fur and the
change in my face," he continued, running his hand along his extended
muzzle. "So what now?"

Ranko looked over the village and sighed unhappily before turning to
Ranma. "I wanted to help them, to clean up for them, but I'm afraid that
using enough magic to make it right will be too visible. I checked and
the black growths are gone from the fields, so it looks like Yao Mo Wen
was telling the truth and they won't have dark magic blocking their
rebuilding. I've been thinking about it and after that cleansing I cast,
I think it would be wise if we were quick to set off a larger bit of
magic . . ." She hurried on before Ranma could interrupt, "not that much
bigger! But a larger bit of magic some ways from here. Just in case we
did attract something." She rubbed her hands against her furry upper
arms. "I'd hate to draw another monster here so soon after ridding them
of one. Better to draw it away, to somewhere where it won't find the
villagers."

Ranma hardly paused before replying. "If you think it best." She had
been the one who wanted to clean up anyway. He was not particularly
interested in it, aside from it being an opportunity to practice his
granted magic. Even with that, however, he would prefer to be learning
spells of attack and defense, though he had been willing to go along
with it.

He glanced at Ryouga, who nodded. Both were more interested in sparring
and making progress towards Japan than in rebuilding a village. They did
not live here and they did not feel any great obligation to the people
who did. Granted they had been through hard times, but the three teens
had surely done their part.

Ranko sighed with relief when Ranma acquiesced. She had not expected a
long argument about it, but she had been worried that he might have had
a deplorably male reaction to her changing her mind.

"I guess we ought to go tell the villagers they can have their land
back, then, right?"

Ranma shook his head doubtfully. "What about Jiaohou? Do we take him
with us? I can't . . . I can't seem to decide what is right. Is it
better to leave him to the villagers, angry as they'll be? Or is it
right to hide him from them, and deny them the chance to get justice?"

"Would it be justice?" mused Ryouga. "I've seen mobs before. I can't see
that group listening to his side of the story."

Ranma nodded. "That's what I've been thinking, but damnit, we don't know
that he's innocent, either. I hate to think of helping the murderer of
Jun Lo Wen's wife and child go free, if this was all his doing in the
end."

"We could cast a spell to get the truth from him," Ranko answered
shakily, "but do we have the right to be his judges?" She had avoided
thinking of Jiaohou. Though she had argued in his favor when they were
considering torching his house, she could not help but feel that it
would have been better, for him and for them, if he had died when Yao Mo
Wen took him, or when he was torn from him.

"Judges . . . ," murmured Ranma thoughtfully. "What about the seer?"

Ryouga shook his head. "No good. They went to the seer for help only
when they were out of options, and you remember how even after we showed
up some of them were still grumbling about following her advice! I can't
see how they'd want to go for something they have no question about."

"Right. If asking the seer for help were easy or safe, they'd have done
so long before things got this bad. They won't want to go through that
when they see their way clear."

"Shen Long, then. Put it before the temple. After all, they went to the
temple for aid, right? Wasn't that like admitting that they still owe
him fealty? At the very least they owe him an honor debt for providing
us." Ranma might not be the most learned about local customs or general
culture, but the topic of honor was one he knew intimately.

"What do we do if Shen Long doesn't show up?"

Ranko turned and walked to the edge of the roof, staring morosely out
over the town. She shuddered, sending ripples through her fur. "They
would probably turn to us as his representatives. We'd be stuck doing it
anyway." 

Ranma cursed again. "I don't want to be his judge."

"Nor I," agreed Ryouga, and Ranko nodded.

Ranma's brow furrowed as he pondered something Ranko had mentioned. "A
spell . . ." He looked up. "We could offer that spell you mentioned,
Ranko. To the villagers, I mean, as a way to get the truth. You think
you could do something like that to make him tell the truth, so they all
could hear?"

"Probably," Ranko nodded, turning back to face Ranma. "I think so. Do
you think the two of you can keep them from becoming a mob?"

Ranma grinned and shot up as he shifted into his half-dragon form. "Oh,
I think we can keep them sufficiently intimidated."

"If we break up any push to be a mob, they ought to be able to listen to
him. We'll be there to vouch that his words are truthful . . . Do you
guys think you'll be able to accept whatever they decide?"

Ranma's face fell and he looked back over at the unconscious body. "I
don't know if I could stand by and watch them kill him."

"I hate this," muttered Ranko, turning away again. "Could . . . could we
just insist that if they decide to kill him they give him time to put
his mind and heart back in order first?"

"Time?" asked Ryouga, startled. "You really think they'll be willing to
wait? I mean, you're talking about coming to terms with mass murder,
with causing a plague and a famine! That could be years, if it's
possible at all!"

"No, but we could insist that they hold him, and reconsider the question
of his punishments in six months. They might make the same decision, but
they would not be killing him in the heat of passion then."

Ranko turned to look at Ranma as he fell silent. "Could you live with
that? Could you walk away, not knowing what they would do?"

Ranma grimaced, then nodded slowly. "I just can't accept taking the
choice away from them. I just don't want them to do something that will
only hurt them more 'cause they act too fast." He looked at his hands,
slumping back into his human form so they matched his memory. "I know
how that feels," he added, his eyes dark with self-loathing as he
remembered how so many of his actions looked when seen through Ranko's
eyes.

A slight smile curled his lip when Ranko appeared in front of him,
laying her red locks against his chest as her slender, once-more human
arms encircled him in a tight hug. "No longer," she whispered, and he
nodded.

"Doesn't change the past," he answered, but his tone was lighter.

Ryouga coughed, catching their attention. He held Jiaohou in one furry
hand. "So, we're decided, right? Hadn't we better be going then?"

Ranma nodded and he and Ranko disengaged, slowly, hands sliding down
each other's arms to become entwined as they hung between them. Ryouga
shifted Jiaohou to his shoulder, and the three took off.

---

Although there was an immediate outburst of celebration amongst the
villagers when the trio came into view, the villagers closest to them
quickly began muttering darkly as they recognized Ryouga's burden.
Villagers rushed to surround them, but Ranma forged on, heading directly
for the village leaders.

"Your village is cleansed," he announced when he reached them, and a
massive cheer erupted around them, erasing, for the moment, the
muttering.

"Jiaohou was possessed by Yao Mo Wen, but we have cast him out and
banished him!"

Again Ranma's words were greeted by cheers, whistles, clapping, and
other expressions of joy, so that his next words went unheeded, and he
stopped to wait for renewed silence.

Silence did not come. Someone near the trio became certain that Ryouga's
burden was Jiaohou, and shouted "Death to Jiaohou! The sorcerer must
die!"

The cry was quickly taken up and Ranma looked to the village elders. He
frowned deeply when he saw that they would not act. Swelling into his
half-tiger form, he demanded silence.

When it finally came, he spoke in a forceful tone, deliberately focusing
on one of the leaders and directing his words at the man. "When a spirit
comes and takes over your body, throwing you out to watch while he uses
your hands to murder your children, should I kill you without
questioning your guilt?"

Quiet mutterings arose about them, and Ranma could see sullen resentment
on more than one face. "Remember, there is no question about the
possession. Jiaohou was possessed. I cast the youma out, I held its
throat in my hands before I removed its head."

"But he summoned the youma," a strident voice objected, the speaker
hidden within the crowd.

"That, we do not yet know," retorted Ranko angrily. "Should you not find
out, before condemning him to die? He may be guilty, yet he may be
innocent!"

"But who will judge him? And who will defend him?" piped up another
voice, this one female. "We all have reason to hate him. Who here has
not lost friend, or family?"

---

"Well? Are you going to let them off the hook yet?" Bastet snarled,
watching the situation outside growing ever more tense. She turned to
glare at Shen Long, standing beside her, looking out the window.

"I was hoping . . ." Shen Long said slowly, resting one hand on the
stone window facing.

"What?!" Bastet snarled, "that they would somehow know exactly what to
do? Isn't it enough that they did not try to take justice into their own
hands? Do you have to wait until their confidence is destroyed by a
failure here? What do you suppose this outsider God will do if that
happens? They are children!"

"You're right." Shen Long sighed. "It is time." He was, after all,
testing them under Bastet's sufferance, they belonging more truly to her
than to himself.

---

A deep thrumming wrought a sudden silence across the contentious group.
Dust drifted down as all eyes turned to the temple, visible shaking of
the stones knocking loose dust and sending shivers down hanging vines.
The light failed about them, though the sky above remained clear.

The three travelers moved quickly to stand between the crowd and the
temple when light began to collect on the stairs leading up into the
ancient stone building. The crowd drew back, pulling together nervously,
while Ranma and Ryouga exchanged glances of mixed hope and apprehension.

The light built up from a thin glow to a glaring pinpoint, streamers of
light rising from the ground and stone walls like ribbons, curling and
rippling as they were drawn into the brilliant point of incandescence.

Strangely, even as the point seemed to emit ever more light, the area
grew darker, creating an ever strengthening contrast, until finally,
when all but the three travelers had been forced by the brilliance to
turn their eyes away, it swelled suddenly, and with a sharp crack, the
gathering shadows fled and the light was replaced by the glowing figure
of a man.

The three tensed as they prepared to defend, but the figure made no move
to attack. The light emanating from him dimmed slowly, until he was able
to be seen. Ranma had barely begun to catalogue what he was seeing when
the villagers behind them began to cry out in glad voices. Beside him he
heard Ranko murmur a spell and, after nodding at the results, catch
Ranma's arm. He grabbed Ryouga, and brought him down with them as Ranko
drew him into a deep bow.

"Welcome, Lord Shen Long," Ranko said, then drew the others out of his
path.

---

Ranma stared in disbelief at the god, who, having judged Jiaohou, had
now returned to the threshold of his temple. Shen Long gestured again at
the three, and nervously, they followed him, doing their best to ignore
the murmured comments of the crowd around them. Though he was grateful
that the god had shown up and taken from him the burden of judging or
defending the apparent sorceror who had caused so much anguish, he could
not help but feel uncertain of the god's intentions towards him.

Looking at Ranko, he saw the same worry in her eyes. They had cleansed
the village at the villagers' request, but they had done so, from the
villagers' perspective, at any rate, as representatives of Shen Long.
How would he feel about the avatars of a different god saving his
people? Had he himself been sending champions, as the villagers seemed
to expect? Would he be angry that they had taken his champions' places?

In Ryouga's eyes he had seen that same fear mirrored, but in Ranko's
eyes he saw another, deeper fear. How would their benefactor, the Lord
Fey, react to their acting in the name of another god? What would he
think of them? Ranma could not help wondering if this was how his good
fortune would end. Though he now had greater confidence that when it
ended Ranko would stay by him, he knew he would feel horrible for having
ruined her chances as well as his own.

A scent caught his nose as he passed through the doorway into the dark
interior of the temple. Hidden though it was by the glorious smells of
rich food that still lingered after nearly four days, he recognized it
subconsciously and, in sync with Ranko, he embraced the Neko-ken.

Shen Long was continuing forward, passing through the hall and into a
stairwell leading upward. As they pressed on up the thrice-turning
stair, the scent grew until it reached Ranma's conscious mind, aided by
the increased senses of his current state. Somewhere above them was a
cat. As they neared the head of the stairs, Ranma felt strange urges
rising up in him, reminding him of Lord Fey's first appearance to them
in his own half-tiger form, and his and Ranko's instinctively
affectionate reaction.

Ryouga, on the other hand, was bristling. His fur was lifting as if
electrically charged, standing straight, while the muscles beneath
twitched erratically. A low rumble sounded in his throat, segueing into
an irritated but uncertain whine, as if vocalizing his confusion at the
source of his own agitation.

Ranma placed a hand on Ryouga's arm and the lupine boy blew a whuff of
air before drawing in a deeper breath. "Cat," he rumbled as they stepped
out into a large open room. Light streamed in through tall, narrow slit
windows.

Within one of the beams of light, validating their senses, stood a
slender, feminine figure. A long, furred tail, of uniform width,
twitched in the sunlight behind her. Ranma's hand tightened on Ryouga's
arm, restraining his impulse at seeing the strange cat.

"My name, you know," said Shen Long, drawing their attention back to the
finely dressed god. "My lovely companion," he continued, lifting his
hand to the woman, who stepped forward, placing her hand in his, "is the
goddess Bastet."

The three took a moment to take in the pair. Shen Long showed few signs
of his expected true form, aside from slit pupils in his eyes. Bastet,
on the other hand, showed considerable evidence of her feline nature,
from her furred, triangular, high-set ears, that twitched and turned to
focus on them, to the eye-drawing tail, to the soft fur that covered her
skin and the claws that appeared momentarily at the tips of her fingers.

"Well, uh, I'm Saotome Ranma, and . . ." Ranma began to introduce
himself nervously.

"Oh, we know very well who you are," Bastet interjected. Ranma caught
Ranko sending him a glance laden with significance.

"Right, okay . . ." Ranma's eyes flitted between the two. Though he was
full of questions, Ranko's warning squeeze on his arm held them back,
which left the three waiting in tense silence for the next shoe to drop.

---

"Contrary to what I perceive you to believe, I am not a god," stated
Shen Long. "I am the Eternal Dragon. Because I am not a god, I am not
bound by quite the same rules and strictures as the gods and goddesses,
such as the lovely Bastet here."

"The foe that you are being prepared to face is one that in the proper
course of events, would have been faced down and defeated by my
champions."

The trio exchanged nervous glances. That sounded like yet another reason
for the . . . well, not the god, but the dragon, at least, to resent
them. This was not looking good.

"Unfortunately, these enemies were not anticipated here in this world,
and at this time, I have no living champions."

Ranma winced at this. The villagers outside had been sent by a seer to
sacrifice all but five days worth of food to call upon this dragon to
send champions he did not even have?

"Unlike some powers, I do not choose my champions and gift them with
great power. Rather, I challenge them, and in the course of succeeding
in the face of my tests, my quests, they gain my gifts as a direct
result of their own actions."

The dragon in the form of a man sighed, looking between Ranma and
Ryouga. "Before all this began, you two were slated to be my champions.
You would have faced an ever more difficult series of tests, and in the
facing of these you would have grown great indeed. Had you not chosen to
follow the Dragon Lord Fey, that might yet have been your course, for
the darkness is not set to descend for nigh on thirty years yet; more
than time enough for you two to have achieved much, both together, and
in the rivalry you would have held."

Bastet stepped forward, standing before Ranma and Ranko, and ignoring
Ryouga's low growl, she smiled at them though her eyes were filled with
sorrow. "As for me, I would never have known you had not Shen Long
brought you to my attention. You are mine also, or would have been, by
virtue of surviving the bastardized training of an art I created."

"The Neko-ken," Ranma whispered, a slow light of anger kindling in his
eyes.

"Yes, but as I said, that was a bastardized version. The true Neko-ken
is meant for my champions, those who are already feline. It is not meant
for humans, especially," a tear glistened in her eye, "especially not
for children." She reached up and rested her fingers lightly against
Ranma's cheek. "It pains me, to see what my children have done to you,
though unwillingly. Yet I am glad to see that you were so pure of heart
that one of my own gave their soul to save you from the demon that
would have taken you."

Ryouga's eyes had about doubled in size. Ranma and Ranko knew this
already, but Ryouga had not known that the training Genma had put Ranma
through had been meant as a conduit for demons to enter the world.

"My own hands have been tied," she continued, stepping back, "by oaths
taken and held between the gods and the demons. Yet I may act through
those who choose me." She looked back at Shen Long and he stepped
forward again.

"I cannot send you on quests now, for your lives are in the hands of
another. Yet I will not lightly pass over this opportunity to defend my
land against those who would see it destroyed."

"Nor will I," interjected Bastet. "And so, we ask that you consider
accepting the gifts that we have to offer you."

Ranma turned to Ranko, a troubled look in his eyes, and saw the same
concern in her own. Facing them once more, and drawing his courage about
him as he dared the possible anger of two deities, or near-deities. "We
cannot accept anything without the agreement of Lord Fey." The three
felt as though a hand had taken their hearts in a grip of iron as they
waited for the deities' reaction.

---

Ranma, the Lord Fey, prowled the streets, searching for his prey. There
was little different between the description he had extracted from the
elder Kuonji-san and the girl he remembered encountering again and yet
for the first time on the banks of a stream near a pool where he had
serenaded a water spirit.

The key difference seemed to be Ryouga, unsurprisingly. Ryouga had
encountered Ranma before meeting Ukyou, in this world, because Genma had
not lost Ranma, and so had been able to enroll him in the all-boys
school where he would meet Ryouga. This Ukyou, then, would not have the
benefit of sparring with the lost boy, but from all Kuonji-san had said,
she would look little different.

Still dressed as a boy, if not more so than he recalled, she would be
wearing the uniform of a traveling seller of okynomiyaki, and bearing a
bandoleer of miniature spatulas and one extremely large spatula. As
such, he did not expect to have any difficulty recognizing her, if he
could just find her in the first place.

Of course, he could have simply avoided all of the difficulty in
locating her by requesting her location from Yggdrassil, but he had been
warned to limit his use of power, and he was hoping that by finding her
without employing supernatural means he would stay below the radar of
their enemies, thereby avoiding placing her at risk before she could
join up with his champions.

He had felt the surge of power as Ranko called upon him, so he was
fairly confident that anyone watching for him would be looking to China.

Unfortunately, he mused as he queried yet another vendor about having
seen Ukyou, Kuonji-san had not had any recent pictures of her, so he was
forced to describe her verbally.

"No, I ain't seen any boy like that," the vendor snapped, and Fey nodded
and moved on, allowing the older woman to return to her selling. Her
reaction was hardly unusual. Most of the people he encountered around
her had little patience for his questions, especially once they realized
he had no intention of purchasing anything from them.

Nor were most of them amenable to questions about someone who, had they
seen her, would have been one of their competitors.

The myriad sounds of children at play caught his ear as he continued on
his path and when he looked up, he saw that he had reached a middle
school, the last level of school for which attendance was mandatory in
Japan. He stared at the name of it for several long minutes before he
made the connection.

This was the school that the Ranma of this world had attended with
Ryouga! Or at least, a school with the same name. He did not recall
where that school had been located, having never attended there himself,
and so was not certain that this was in fact it. Yet, it seemed an
unlikely coincidence, encountering a school with that name, here where
he was looking for Ukyou.

Seeing that the gates of the school were closed, he found an alcove, a
deep-set doorway across the street where he could wait and watch. When
the bells rang for the last time and the gates opened, school-children
pouring out onto the sidewalk in both directions, he stood.

They parted before him, he noted with amusement, without seeming to
realize that they were doing so. He watched them with curious eyes as he
passed through their midst. This was an environment with which he had
little experience.

Entering the doors of the school, he noted the racks where the students
kept their school shoes, exchanging them for their outdoor shoes on
arriving and leaving. The halls were yet noisy, but as he passed down
them they quieted rapidly, as the children did not linger long in the
hallways.

Heading for the concentration of the oldest ki he could feel about him,
not a difficult distinction as the gap between the youngest of the elder
and oldest of the younger was still many years, he quickly found the
office.

Here was luck with him, for even as he struggled to resist enspelling
the irritating clerk who refused to answer his queries about the
students that had attended here, the door behind him opened again.

"Excuse me," rasped an artificially rough voice, "is there a Saotome
Ranma attending here?"




Whose Champion?


"They are in China, Kuonji-san," Fey answered her, turning around. He
smiled upon seeing her, his expectations confirmed. Her long hair was
bound low, at her neck, in the manner of a man's ponytail, and her
breasts were not in evidence, likely bound, but the absence of an Adam's
apple was not needed for him to confirm her gender. Though ki attacks
would be beyond her for a while yet, she was a martial artist, heavily
trained, and the swell of her feminine ki was unmistakeable.

"They?" Ukyou queried, looking at the unfamiliar man, and noting the
irritation in the eyes of the man minding the desk which said he was no
agent of the school. She fingered one of her mini-spats nervously.

"Genma, and Ranma," he responded. "Come, let us speak of this elsewhere."

Numbly, she followed him. After so long searching, to come upon a
forthcoming source of information so unexpectedly, and then to have him
tell her that they were in China! China? Why would they be in China? Had
they learned that she was hunting them?

Fey led her to the outdoor patio of a nearby restaurant. He had already
ordered for them both when she came back to herself and lunged across
the table, grabbing his shirt in her hands. "What do you mean, China?
How can they be in China?"

He covered her hands with his own, and gently, but inexorably loosened
her grip. "I have much to tell you," he said, smiling softly at her.

Ukyou's face reddened. "Who the hell are you, anyway? How'd you know I
was looking for them? How do you know where they are?"

"All in good time," he placated her. "Genma took Ranma there to train,
to search out ancient, forbidden training grounds."

"Forbidden?"

"Cursed. Genma lost Ranma there."

Ukyou paled, a sudden and sharp contrast to her earlier visage. "Lost?!"
Her anger fled, replaced by a sharp pain in her chest. "Ranma . . .
Ranma is . . ." Though she had pictured his death almost nightly, the
possibility that it was real, that he had already died, shredded her
dreams. She had dreamed about killing him and returning to the warm
embrace of her father, but she had never truly hated him. The Ranma that
she pictured killing was a hard-faced liar and a thief, a cheat with no
feelings. The Ranma she saw dead when the man she faced spoke of his
loss was the smiling boy she had loved with all her heart, the boy she
had been going to marry.

"No, not dead, Kuonji-san. Ranma is alive, but he is no longer with
Genma. Genma sold him . . . to me."

Ukyou stood suddenly, snatching her battle spatula from her back,
horrific visions of slavery and abasement dancing in her eyes. "You
bastard!" she screamed. In spite of the apparent similarities, she did
not see the parallel between Genma's engaging Ranma to her and his
selling of Ranma to the man before her.

"Calm yourself," Fey commanded, catching the lethal edge of her battle
spatula in his open palm without the least sign of strain.

"What have you done with him?" Ukyou sobbed, as she jerked on her
spatula, vainly trying to remove it from his grip.

"I? I saved him, Kuonji-san. I accepted Genma's signature as a way of
freeing Ranma from Genma's promises. You should know, Kuonji-san, you
are not the only girl to whom Genma promised Ranma. He has sold him for
less than you would believe, and left Ranma to pay the price."

"But . . ." Ukyou collapsed back into her seat, losing her grip on her
spatula, which Fey set on the floor by his chair. 

"Unlike Genma, I gave Ranma a choice. He chose to stay with me."

"But you said he was in China!" Ukyou protested vehemently, casting him
an accusing glare. "Where did you leave him? In some brothel?!"

"No. He is making his way back to Japan under his own power, while I
help deal with some of what he will face when he gets here."

Ukyou paled again, realizing the implications of his statement, and the
earlier comment about freeing Ranma from Genma's promises. "But . . .
but they took my dowry!!" she protested, suddenly all too certain about
why the unnamed man was here.

"Ranma did not even know you were a girl," Fey told her gently.

Ukyou shook her head in disbelief. "No, no, that can't be true!"

"He knows you as one of his first, and only friends. He does not know
you as a woman."

Ukyou firmed her chin in spite of the tears still trickling down her
cheeks. Neither paid any attention as the waitress set tea before them
both. "I'll make him see me as a woman."

Fey shook his head sadly. "I am afraid that will do you little good. He
knew nothing of the arrangements made for him, and in his ignorance, he
has fallen in love. Will you deliberately break his heart, as Genma
broke yours?"

Ukyou's eyes widened and she gasped. "I am not like that man!" she
screamed at him.

"Good. I am glad to hear it." Fey reached out and took her hand again.
"That does not mean you will be alone, however. Nor does it mean you
must forget him. You can still be friends, and you will find another to
love, in time."

"It hurts," Ukyou whispered, choking back a sob.

"I know. But you have a month yet, maybe more, before he returns. You
must let go of your anger towards him, for he knew nothing of Genma's
plans or promises. He knows now, for I told him everything, and his
heart is pained for you. If you lash out at him when he arrives, he will
be hurt badly."

"What about Genma?" Ukyou said petulantly.

"Ah, Genma. He will follow Ranma, for he still seeks to have him back,
under his control. You need not seek for him now. When Ranma comes I
will find you again, and lead you to him. When Genma follows, you may do
with him as you see fit. But you must work on forgiving Ranma and
accepting that he has found love. If you do not, then you will lash out
when he comes. Whichever you strike out against, the other will hate you
for it, and you will lose them both. She too could be a good friend to
you, if you let her."

Ukyou swallowed hard at the thought of Ranma hating her. Not the
hard-eyed image she had imagined killing, no, this was the young boy she
loved, whose eyes she pictured now filled with hate. "What is she like?"
Ukyou stammered. "Does she love him?"

"She does. You need not fear for his heart from her, for she knows
everything about him. And she knows it from his perspective, for she has
seen his memories. The feelings he has for you, of friendship for a
young boy, and pain for a young girl he never really knew, she shares
also. She will be your friend, if you allow it."

Before she had a chance to respond, Fey's head jerked up, his eyes
unfocusing. Ukyou suppressed a shiver when his eyes snapped back down to
focus on her. "Something's come up, I've got to go," he said. He pressed
something into her hand, dropped yen on the table, then turned and
walked away.

"Wait!" Ukyou stood up, then looked down at her hand. Her eyes widened
as she stared at the thick roll of yen he had pressed into her hand. "I
don't even know your name!?"

---

Bastet glanced nervously at Shen Long as Ranko began to murmur a chant
to summon the Dragon Lord Fey. She had gone along with Shen Long's
testing, though she had not yet taken an active part. She had taken
responsibility for the Neko-ken upfront, of course, and given them at
least a beginning of an explanation as to why she had done nothing about
Ranma's experience with it. She had not, however, made any sort of
promise or even the implication of a promise to grant them any powers.

Still, she was present, and she had stated that they would, under other
circumstances, have at least possibly been her champions. How would Fey
react to such a statement? Her nervousness flared as the gorgeous little
redhead finished her chant and fell silent. Such beautiful children, and
so much potential! She would dearly have loved to have them for
champions, but this . . . risking the fate of the entire world seemed a
bit much, even for such delightful champions.

She held her breath when the air stirred, and a figure appeared that was
a near-copy of Ranma, except for the two large white wings on his back.
She could sense Shen Long's nervousness as he stood tensely watching,
and she remembered suddenly one of the crucial tidbits she had gleaned
from the few pages of the report she had managed to scan. Her heart-rate
tripled as she considered that not only was she facing a man who if he
took offense to their actions, could leave her world defenseless, but he
was exempt from the doublet system! He could slay her and Shen Long
both, without further repercussions!

"Bastet." The winged man bowed towards her in acknowledgement.

She nearly fainted with relief, and quickly bowed back, deeper still. He
turned to Shen Long, who stepped forward and introduced himself. Again
they bowed to each other.

Then Fey turned to his avatars, to Ranko, who had been waiting
nervously, unsure what his reaction to being summoned would be. After
all, he was a god, not a servant to be called for on a whim. When he
opened his arms towards them, Ranko rushed in to hug him, babbling with
relief as she tried to explain in one breath why she had summoned him.

He waited her out, grinning at Ranma, who was smiling back at him with
relief, until her breath gave out and she finally wound to a stop. To
their surprise, he did not ask for a more intelligible recap. Instead,
he merely nodded to Ranma and Ryouga, and turned to face Shen Long and
Bastet, still holding Ranko as she caught her breath. She stepped away
from him, blushing, shortly after he began speaking.

"So, you've found a loophole in the rules that allows you to take
action? Why were you unable to do so before?"

Shen Long shook his head. "You misunderstand, I fear, Lord Fey. I was
not incapable of acting. I am not bound by the same strictures. These
two," he answered, gesturing to Ranma and Ryouga, "would have become my
champions in time. Indeed, they had both already passed the first
trials, but the scale and timing are not sufficient. In two years time
or so, Ranma would have become strong enough to defeat the Undying
Pheonix, with Ryouga's, and a few others', help along the way, if they
did not falter and fail a test before. But that would have been the peak
of their testing and challenges. More would have followed, but lesser.
In thirty years, they would have passed well beyond the peak of their
skills. They would be dust in the wind before what is coming."

"And I," said Bastet, not wanting to wait for an inquiry to have to be
directed specifically to her lest she seem reticent, "had not had Ranma
brought to my attention. I thought the flawed Neko-ken a lost art after
we managed to force the demons to add a page of truth to the manual.
Certainly, it had not been taught in many years."

"I see. And now?"

"Bastet was here but to observe. I have no champions aside from these
two, but this village begged me to give them a champion to save them.
The scent of the feast they lay before us as an offering drew the young
wolf off his course and the others followed. We did not interfere,
merely observed. Your champions' actions speak well of their character.
By virtue of their actions, they have earned my gifts. By virtue of
their experience, your avatars may be gifted by Bastet, if she so
chooses," Shen Long explained.

"But they would not even consider accepting such gifts without your
approval," Bastet added, smiling softly at the two cat-souled youths.

Her smile fading, she turned her attention back to Fey as they all
waited for his reaction.

---

Ukyou sat back down when the waitress came out with a tray of food. She
waved away the other man's food, saying that he had to leave, but
accepted the plate meant for her, grinning as she looked at it. She had
been too preoccupied to hear what he had ordered for them both, but she
did not often get the chance to eat quality eel, expensive as it was,
and she was not about to pass up this opportunity. She dried her eyes on
her handkerchief, then snagged an eel sushi in her chopsticks and lifted
it to her mouth.

As she moaned appreciatively around the mouthful of sushi, she pondered
what she should do now. Up to this point, her life had been dominated by
training and searching for the Saotomes. Now, she had been told they
were entirely out of the country, but were heading back. She did not
know for certain that the unnamed man had given her the truth, but he
had definitely known something.

No simple con-man could possibly have known why she was looking for
Ranma, or what kind of man Genma was, and besides, he had not taken her
money, he had given her more!

A month was little enough time to wait to test his words, given that she
had been on her revenge quest for years. If he was lying, she would have
lost a month. If he was not, then she would finally get to meet Ranma
again. A smile crossed her lips as she consumed another bite of sushi.
To have a friend again, that would be worth celebrating indeed, but was
it really possible that Ranma had not known she was a girl?

Even if it was, could she really get past the hurt that she had taken
that day, from him, his father, and worst of all, her own family? She
shuddered, then deliberately forced that image away in favor of
remembering the little boy she had played so many games with. She did
not even notice the tears that once more began to drip from her eyes as
she lost herself in the pleasant memories of the distant past.

---

"I leave it to you, my children. Listen to what they offer you, and
accept it or not as you will. Know this first, though. I have given you
all that you need to become what you will need to be to defeat the
coming threat. You may make your decision by how you feel and on what
you want, without concern that it may affect the fate of the world. Now,
if you don't mind, I've got to get back to a friend of yours."

Ranma looked around, puzzled. A friend of his? All his friends are right
here, aren't they?

"Ucchan?" Ranko cried out in delight. She had been planning on finding
the last of Ranma's former friends and trying to reconcile her to Ranma,
but she had dreaded the effect on Ranma if she reacted poorly. But if
Fey had already found her, if he could prepare her . . .

"Yes," Fey answered with a wry grin. I should have known she would
guess, I shouldn't have said anything. "I was speaking to Ukyou when I
received your summons."

Ranma's eyes were wide with wonder. "Really? How's he doing?"

Ranko snorted, then covered her mouth, and grinned at the twinkle in
Fey's eyes. Though the memories she had received from Ranma were the
same as those he held, she had been seeing them fresh, from the
perspective of a near-adult female, and she had not missed the clues
that spoke to Ukyou's true gender.

"Ukyou looks fine," Fey assured Ranma, then he took his leave.

Ranma, Ranko, and Ryouga turned back to Shen Long. 

Shen Long glanced at Bastet, knowing that he was shortly going to be
paying for the tension she had felt. She did not look happy with him.
Right now, however, he had three teenage champions to deal with.

"Well, now, as for my . . ."

Shen Long had barely gotten five words out before Ryouga interrupted
with a startled yelp, his eyes alight with surprise, "A trial! That's
what that five year exile was about! You're giving Jiaohou a trial, just
like your champions!"

Ranma's mouth twisted, as though he had just tasted something
unpleasant. "Is . . . is he one of your champions?"

"No, silly," Ranko chided him, "Shen Long said he did not have any."

"You are correct, Ryouga. What he does with this exile will determine
whether he will be able to reconcile the village to himself, and return
to his home, or whether he will have to find another home. He will find
opportunities before him. If he takes them up, he may yet become a hero
in the eyes of his village. But no, he is not my champion."

"You three, on the other hand, have all passed my trial."

"What, by killing that youma? That was kid's stuff," Ranma scoffed.
Seeing the two deities nervousness when Fey had arrived had worn away
some of his own fear, and now the thought that he even might be placed
in the same class as Jiaohou, in spite of his earlier inner admission
that he also would have gone to any lengths to save or bring back Ranko,
if she were lost to him, left him feeling ill at ease and uncertain
whether he was even willing to accept a reward for such a minor thing.

"No. As I told Bastet, defeating the youma was not part of the trial. It
was the decisions you made, before and after; to help people to whom you
owed nothing, to remain open to the possibility of Jiaohou's innocence
in the face of such tales, to care about his fate even after your part
was done, these were the tests you passed."

"And to accept their simple fare, knowing that there were far richer
foods but a short distance away, were you willing to violate the temple,
to ignore their beliefs," smirked Bastet, raising an eyebrow at Shen
Long with vindictive pleasure.

"What?!" Ranma shouted, angered that they would think he would even
consider such a thing.

"You have to admit, that is exactly what your father would have done,"
Shen Long responded calmly, glaring at Bastet, who merely smirked back
at him.

"Damned old man," Ranma complained. "I'll never be rid of him."

"And these gifts?" asked Ranko, nudging Ranma to cease his mutterings.

"The first." stated Shen Long, holding up a small brown bag. He untied
the lacings and opened it. Reaching it, he pulled out what looked like a
small bean. "You will have to find someone with a green thumb, someone
truly gifted with plants, and growing things. Give them this bag and
have them plant these seeds. These are senzu beans. One is enough to
bring you back from the brink of death to full health. If you can find
someone capable of growing them, then you will have a powerful resource
to keep you in the fight without using up your strength in healing
spells. Especially since they also restore your reserves."

"Wow!" commented Ranko, accepting the bag and looking at the small beans
it held. "That's great!"

"You'll have to keep an eye out for someone to grow 'em," pointed out
Ryouga.

"Yeah, but we have to build a support base anyway," answered Ranko,
taking out a bean and examining it before returning it the sack and
tying it carefully.

She turned back to Shen Long. "You said that was the first?"

He nodded and Ranma's eyes widened, his fists clenching, when Shen Long
held up a thick scroll, tied about with a purple ribbon. "Had these
events not come to pass, you, Ryouga, would have come upon a miner's
technique for using depression as a ki attack. Ranma, you would have
learned your own variant of it using confidence. Unfortunately, emotion
based ki attacks have severe draw-backs, and will not be suitable to
what you are going to face. This is a training scroll that will guide
you in developing pure ki attacks."

He handed it to Ranma, who took it reverently, eyes shining. Then he
turned to Ryouga, and held up a thin book. "You get lost very easily,
Ryouga, but you do more than that. When you followed Ranma to Jusenkyou,
how did you cross the South China Sea?"

"What?" Ryouga asked, looking flustered. "I just walked. I just followed
their trail."

Ranma and Ranko both stared at Ryouga in disbelief. Shen Long continued,
"You suffer from two afflictions, not one. You lack a sense of
direction, and that you have partially cured. But you would still lose
your friends. It is suppressed somewhat by the form you are wearing now,
but you have an ability from your heritage, to move instantly from one
place to another. Up till now, it has been triggered by your wandering
thoughts, as you thought of one place or another, and for the last
while, your thoughts have been fairly strongly focused on the here and
now, and who you were with. Further, as I said, your current form
suppresses this ability to a degree, though I suspect you could still
make conscious use of it.

"This," he continued, holding up the thin book, "is a training manual
for your ability. Master it, and you will never have difficulty getting
anywhere you want to go."

Ryouga took the book from him, tears running unnoticed through his fur
as he stared at what to him was his salvation.

---

Ukyou jerked, her eyes flying open, when a soft cloth brushed her face.
"Who, what?! Oh, you're back . . . I thought you were gone . . ."

Fey brushed the tears from her other cheek, shaking his head. "Just
something I had to take care of."

"I . . . I realized when you left," Ukyou blushed, "I never got your
name."

"Ah . . . remiss of me, not to have introduced myself. I am Fey Ranma.
Ah! Yes, I see the question in your eyes. No, I am not your Ranma, but I
look enough alike him that with the name and all, it was inevitable that
he came to my attention. After all, having people suddenly out to kill
or marry you rather makes one sit up and take note."

"Umm, right. I bet that must have been a surprise," Ukyou laughed shakily.

"Yes," he said, taking his seat, "quite."

Ukyou blushed again. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you were coming back, so
I declined your food."

"Ah, no need to blush, Kuonji-san. I should have explained my leaving
better, but I'm afraid it was quite urgent and most unexpected."

"Please, call me Ukyou," Ukyou protested, while thinking to herself that
if this is what her Ranma looked like now, it was a damn shame he had
already found someone to love. She held out the wad of yen he had left
her. "I don't quite understand what this is for," she whispered more
than said.

"I wasn't certain that I would be able to return immediately," Fey
informed her. "I wanted to be sure you were not too terribly
inconvenienced by my sudden departure."

Ukyou set it on the table and pushed it towards him, but he covered her
hands with his immediately, folding them back over the yen. "Keep it,"
he said.

"But," Ukyou began to protest.

"It is not without reason, Ukyou-san," he asserted. "You have spent a
great deal of time searching, and I think it's about time you have a
goal that you can reasonably achieve. Find Ranma's mother, Saotome
Nodoka. Use that money to set up a restaurant near her home. Get to know
her. Ranma will be returning shortly, and he will be greatly hurt if she
cannot accept that he has left Genma. Tell her your story; let her see
another side of her husband, and let her hear a least a bit of Ranma's
childhood. I am sure she will be most grateful for anything you can tell
her about him. Will you do this? For me, and for Ranma?"

"I . . . you want me to open my own restaurant?" Ukyou stared at him in
disbelief.

"You are an okynomiyaki chef, are you not?"

"Of course I am!"

"Good. You will do well, I am sure. You will get to know the
neighborhood and the people, and his mother. When he returns, you will
be in a position to help him settle in, and to help quell rumours that
might spring up about his return. You'll understand better why I'm doing
this when he returns, but I hope you'll agree to it even without that
understanding."

"So . . . find Saotome Nodoka, get to know her, tell her about Genma,"
Ukyou stated, counting off on her fingers, "tell her about Ranma, tell
her my story, and set up a restaurant. In a month?!"

"Heh. Well, he should reach Japan within the month, but it will be a bit
longer before he reaches Tokyo, and longer still before he finds his
mother. Up until a very short while ago, he believed her to be dead.
Genma never spoke of her to him."

"That's awful!"

"Quite. So, will you do it?"

"You'll make sure he finds us? And you'll warn me ahead of time, before
he gets there?"

"I will."

"Then I'll do it! I tracked Genma and Ranma for years, I can find his
mom! No problem!"




On The Road Again


Genma growfed as he pulled his pack from where it had caught on a
branch. Another gi, ruined by his sudden size increase. He slashed the
tree, gouging its bark in irritation. If that stupid branch had not
caught on his pack, he would not have been doused by the water lurking
on its leaves. As if the rain was not bad enough, he finally got back to
human after it stopped and splash, he was a panda again.

He shook a furry paw at the sky, cursing vociferously--if
incomprehensibly given a panda's vocal apparatus--at whatever gods had
chosen to make him their plaything. 

It did not help that the branch had pulled the pack off his arm. He
could not get the pack back on both shoulders in this form, though if it
was already on when he changed, it would stay. Of course it was then
quite a challenge to get it off again, but it made traveling easier.
With his sloped shoulders, when his pack was only on one arm, it had a
tendency to slide down his fur and fall constantly. Having wet fur
certainly did not help that in the least, either.

He was only five paces further on when he suddenly stopped, and turned
back to look at the gashes he had left on the tree. Why did that seem
familiar to him? He stared at it with bleary eyes for several long
minutes, but nothing further came to him, and eventually he moved on.

"Damn that ungrateful wretch of mine. Why the devil did he pick now to
grow a spine? And how the bloody devil did he avoid leaving tracks?"

The lack of tracks had not stymied Genma for long, after he found again
the clearing where he had fought his son. He had not even looked for
them until after he had gone over the traces left by the fight, looking
for clues to the changes in his son, but he had been quite startled when
he realized that there were no apparent signs that his son had ever left
the clearing, aside from his obvious absence.

Then he had gone back and examined the signs in more detail, and
confirmed that the wolf-tracks were indeed made at the same time that
some of his son's tracks were laid down. Putting that together with the
apparent presence of the single wolf, with no sign of any of its
packmates, and the earlier indications that he had been trailed by a
wolf for a short time before reaching Ranma, and most of all, being hit
from behind by a sneak attack while facing Ranma, he reached some
interesting but not entirely accurate conclusions.

He had momentarily believed that Ranma had succeeded in moving fast
enough to leave behind an image of himself, and that he had been the one
to make the strike from behind. Finding the wolf's tracks and
recognizing the timing told him otherwise. Ranma had a partner. Genma
wondered if it was that same man, the one Ranma claimed had been a kami,
but he did not think it likely. That man had possessed too great a power
to conceal it so easily. No, Ranma had acquired a new partner somehow.

So now he was following the wolf's tracks, and for some reason the cuts
he had scored into that tree kept popping into his mind. He growfed
angrily and moved to slash another tree to work out his frustration. He
stopped, staring with his mouth wide open. The tree was already scored
twice over, a little above the highest his panda form could reach, with
four parallel grooves, already darkened, weeping long, sticky trails of
sap.

"He's in the trees," Genma said, reaching as high as he could. He could
not touch them, and did not know why he thought they indicated his son's
presence, but he felt sure of it now. His son was traveling through the
trees, which meant that Genma had been right to follow the wolf tracks,
and that he was on the right trail.

---

Ukyou carefully concealed her spatula, and her mini-spatulas. Tools of
her trade they might be, they would still not be accepted where she was
going. Looking around herself to be sure no-one was watching, she
quickly rose and walked away, trying to seem as if she were merely
passing through.

Wishing she looked like she belonged, but knowing that her garb, even
for a man, was anything but appropriate to the doors she intended to
pass through, she worked on psyching herself up as best she could as she
approached the stone stairs. Unfortunately, she was concentrating too
hard, and she bumped into someone who was as engrossed in the book she
was reading as Ukyou was in her mental preparations.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Ukyou apologized, bending over and grabbing the book
the girl had dropped, and then offering her hand to lift the other girl
up.

The other girl, a short, and short-haired, girl with glasses and a
thoughtful expression, accepted her help and apologized for not watching
where she was walking. A warm blush lit her cheeks and nose, and Ukyou
could not help but smile at her, recognizing the signs of a girl
entranced by Ukyou's apparent bishonen good looks.

"I'm sorry. I was just going in . . ."

"So was I," Ukyou interrupted her. "And I was not watching where I was
walking either. May I escort you?" She offered, and the shorter girl
blushed deeper, but linked her arm with that of the, to her, handsome
guy.

Ukyou definitely did not like leading girls on, though it often seemed
to happen in spite of her best efforts, but she rather enjoyed giving
the shy girls a boost to their self-esteem. Her own picture of her
femininity was so shot that helping uncertain girls feel better about
themselves sometimes made her feel like she was helping herself; or at
least, doing for others what she wished someone would do for her.

"So," asked the short-haired girl as they passed through the scanners,
"what are you looking for?"

"I need to find someone. A friend of mine has not seen his mother in
many years. I have to find her, prepare her. He's coming back, and well,
it would really suck if she had a heart attack because he popped up out
of the blue."

"Wow! That's very nice of you," she commented. "You know her name?"

"Yep. Saotome Nodoka, wife of Genma, mother of Ranma. Hopefully that'll
be enough to find her. It's about all I know."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be, I . . . oh, I'm sorry. I forgot to give you my
name. My name is Mizuno Ami."

"A pleasure, Ami-chan, I'm sure. Kuonji Ukyou is my name."

Ami led Ukyou to a bank of computers and very quickly had multiple
searches running. "Wow, you really know your way around these,"
commented Ukyou. "I was expecting to have to flip through piles of
folders." She did not mention that she had done exactly that to find
what schools had a Saotome Ranma registered.

"Aha!" Ami exclaimed, pointing happily to the screen. "Here we go, let
me just print this off for you."

"That was quick," Ukyou blurted, staring at the screen in disbelief. "I
was expecting to spend hours here." She looked at Ami, noting her blush
and the slight disappointment in her eyes. "You saved me a lot of time.
Will you . . . will you let me buy you dinner, as a thank you?"

---

"You think we'll see them again?" Ranma was looking over the clearing
where the villagers had been encamped, but both of his companions knew
he was speaking of the deities they had just visited.

Ranko nodded as she finished placing everything back in her pack, having
hidden the bag of seeds in the lining on the bottom. "I think so. After
all, if you knew something terrible was going to happen, and you also
knew that there was absolutely nothing you could do about it, then
suddenly you got the opportunity you were told you could never have,
would you take it?" 

"Hell, yeah."

"Well, Bastet has not yet actually done anything. I don't know if we'll
see Shen Long again, but I have a feeling we'll be seeing her."

"Great. So, we good to go?" Ryouga's affirmation was less than
enthusiastic. He was not on the cat-goddess's list, after all. He was a
wolf, not a cat.

"Not yet. I still want to expend a hefty dose of magical energy here,
to draw off any consequences from that blast back at the village."

"Draw them to the temple instead?" Ranma asked, turning to look up at
the stone structure, wondering how Shen Long would react to having
enemies drawn to his temple.

"Why not? There's nothing here for them to kill."

"Maybe not, but there is a nicely trampled line of grass leading right
back to the village!" Ryouga pointed out.

Ranko frowned as Ranma looked about them. "There's actually a lot of
evidence that people were here," Ranma commented, "and it does lead back
to the village. So . . ."

"We cast a spell to clean it up?"

"Exactly."

Ryouga shook his head nervously, and glanced at the doors to the temple.
"We? Ehrm, shouldn't Ranko do this by herself?"

Ranma and Ranko laughed at Ryouga's nervous behavior. Clearly he was
remembering what his pack had gone through when Ranma summoned it. "Not
to worry, Ryouga. When Ranko guides my visualization, my spells work
just fine."

Ryouga just shook his head, picking up their packs, his own already on
his back, and loped over to stand beneath the overhang of the temple
door. "Why don't you guys cast from in front of me, that way," he
suggested, pointing ahead of him at the trampled ground.

"Yeah, sure, Ryouga. That'll do fine, I think," agreed Ranma, looking to
Ranko with a grin.

She laughed softly. "Why not, come on, Ranma." Taking Ranma's hand, she
drew him up the steps to stand in front of Ryouga. Turning slightly, she
cast a coy gaze behind her. "You sure you want to stand there? We'll be
blocking all the action. You won't get a good view."

"That's alright," Ryouga demurred, laughing nervously, "I'm fine right
here."

"Okay, Ranma. I would have us visualize this area the way it was before
they came and use some sort of restoration concept, but since we never
got a chance to see it unspoiled, we're going to use nature instead. We
need to picture the jungle moving in, growing over all the signs of
human presence, taking it back, but," she turned and put her hand on his
face, looking into his eyes, "you must be very clear in your mental
image, that the sun is staying where it is in the sky, that the bamboo
they left behind is staying just as it is, aside from what the plants do
to it. 

"I don't want to take any chance of the spell messing with time. That
would be a very different sort of magic, and might not have at all the
same signature. If we focus on plant growth, I think we can accomplish
much the same thing, but it should have a signature very similar to the
healing magic I used earlier.

"I also want you to remember the feel of Bastet, how it felt to be near
her, and how it felt when Fey showed up unexpectedly, and took his tiger
form for us for the first time. That should help ensure that you call
upon divine magic, and not demonic."

"Right, gotcha. Plants growing, jungle moving in, big, scary cats.
Uhmmm... heck. We gotta go cat for this, Ranko, if I'm gonna be
picturing them in my head."

Ranko mewed at him and grinned at noting the hairs on the back of his
neck stand up. "You ready?"

"I guess so. First time to cast together. You sure we can do this?"

"If we can't, it'll just be two spells overlapping. Shouldn't be a
problem."

Ryouga pressed back against the door, especially nervous now that Ranko
had given him an image for the worst case scenario. If he was out there,
he would be swallowed up by the jungle at the least, but if Ranma
screwed up and let the idea of time passing get in there, he might die
of old age before he ever . . . Well, best not to think of that.

A flush burned across Ryouga's cheeks as Ranko began guiding Ranma
through the visualizations, drawing up as it did images and feelings of
Ranko, resting in his lap as she tried to guide him through casting a
spell, and then the sweet feel of her lips on his neck and the ecstatic
pleasure that followed swift on the heels of the minor pain of her teeth
entering his skin.

His fingers felt moisture, and he realized that he had driven his claws
into his palms when he had clenched his fists in a vain attempt to drive
off the memories.

Desperately he wrenched his vision forward again, only to shrink back
against the door as the forest seemed to rise up before them, vines
shooting through the air like the tentacles of some monster of the
ocean's depths, while trees shot upward, cracking the ground with the
growth of their roots, burrowing out from their center.

Grasses burst from the ground, turning as they rose as if to follow the
movements of an unseen sun, but they quickly turned brown and withered
away, as smaller, bright green shoots appeared. Swiftly they twirled and
rose, splitting now and again, lashing out and sinking sudden growths of
thorns into the trees that as quickly swallowed the clinging vines in a
rush of bark.

The speedy and competing growth led to some startling results, as
several trees interfered with each other, swallowing each the other's
branches and looking as though they had stabbed each other through the
heart, while many of the trees had in their swift rise drawn the bulbous
roots of the vines that foolishly ensnared them up through the earth,
even as the growth of the vine reached back for the soil, leading to
chains of fat roots, in appearance like unto a mad artist's rendition of
the abdomen of an ant queen full with eggs, while higher up thin shafts
of green speared out from bark, from bole and branch, to spin rampant
swirls of emerald leaves around and occasionally through the branches,
reaching towards the sun.

An almost constant rain of leaves fell from the deciduous trees as they
passed seasons uncountable. The swift decomposition of the leaves upon the
floor, as they choked out the last of the grasses and smothered the
short-lived growths of bushes, was most disturbing to look upon,
especially as the growth and movement of the tree roots beneath the soil
gave the decomposing mounds the appearance of an unwholesome life.

Ranma and Ranko stood together before him, arm's out, chanting, until
the trees reached the height of the surrounding forest, then finally
they stilled. "That . . . was amazing," breathed Ranko.

"Those leaves were disgusting," Ryouga responded, "and it stinks."

Ranma laughed, and grinning at Ranko, he chanted loudly, a look of
concentration on his face that put Ryouga in the mind of his look when
he fought Ranko. He was obviously giving equal thought to what he was
doing and to the reaction he expected from Ranko when he was done,
Ryouga decided. Though his chant was crude, the effect was anything but.

First arose a soft breeze that whispered past their faces, lifting
Ranko's hair teasingly into her face. A change in the air was felt, as
if a heaviness were dissipating. The air shifted, coming now more from
the north and west, a light feel to it, though it was stronger, moving
their clothes about and wresting leaves free from the trees here and
there.

With it now came a smell of spring and freshness, the soft scent of a
woodfire burning and the slightly sweet scent of rice left to rot in the
fields, that would be overpowering or cloying respectively, were they
but more strongly present. This wind held steady but for slight natural
variances in strength and the miasma of rotten leaves was swept away
before it, leaving the air feeling clean and just lightly moist.

Ranko clapped delightedly, throwing her arms around Ranma. "That was
excellent, Ranma," she cried out joyfully, her voice suffused with her
pride in him. "I knew you would get it eventually."

"Well, I guess I've just got a good incentive now," he said softly,
looking into her eyes. A mischievous glint crept into his eyes as he
turned to look at Ryouga. "After all, I can't let my greatest rival have
something to hold over my head, now can I." His gaze rested squarely on
Ryouga's backpack as Ranko and Ryouga burst into laughter.

"We're done here then," pointed out Ranko, as she finally stopped
giggling. "So let's not stick around to see if our magic attracts
anything. We've got some distance to make up, especially," she paused,
looking at Ranma appraisingly, "if we want to stay ahead of your
father?" She made the last a question, and both he and Ryouga recognized
what she was asking. Did he think there was more to learn from his
father? Or, if not, was he ready to take vengeance?

Ranma shook his head. "I'd just as soon avoid him. The more he's near
us, the more chance for him to learn what we're doing. If he realizes
where we're heading, he could get to my mother before us. I'm hoping
that my revealing that I know about the pact will convince him that I
won't dare to go near her."

"Right," Ranko agreed, "best not to give him the opportunity to
interfere."

"Let's go then," Ryouga said, handing his friends their packs, before
turning to bow to the temple. Ranko and Ranma followed his lead, bowing
respectfully to the old stone structure before taking to the trees.
"Just a moment," Ryouga called after them, and they turned to look back
at him.

He pointed at his bare feet, now more human in appearance, though still
clawed and furry. "I'm gonna be leaving kind of distinctive tracks now.
I mean, two-legged wolf tracks are bad of enough, but how hard can it be
to follow a claw-footed man? Can you do something so I don't leave any
tracks?"

Ranma cocked his head to the side, looking at Ranko. "If we can manage
it, that would mean the only two-legged wolf tracks would be those
leading to the village, where they are not trampled by the villagers."

"Right, and they don't leave the village. That would be a nice puzzle to
leave the panda, if he has even recognized the wolf tracks in the first
place."

Ryouga breathed a sigh of relief when Ranko leapt down from the tree. In
spite of Ranma's earlier demonstration, he felt more comfortable having
the unquestionably more skilled and experienced Amazon casting spells on
him. She murmured at his feet and he yelped when he felt himself rise
suddenly. "What?"

"Well, I don't know for sure what it would take to make a spell that
would prevent tracks on different types of terrain without visualizing
each, and I would almost certainly miss one. So I just added a cushion
of air beneath your feet. If you simply don't touch the ground, you
won't make tracks and the terrain won't make any difference."

"Cool," said Ranma, "Better than I would have come up with." He was
rewarded with a bright smile. It was strange, he mused as Ranko jumped
back into the trees and Ryouga started off at a steady lope beneath
them, how much her smiles had come to mean to him. He might have been
tempted to try to prove himself the best to win her, had he not already
known that she had all his memories. Knowing that he already had her,
that she was willing to be with him, left him free to look for the
things that brought smiles to her face, rather than the things that
would impress her the most.

As she ran, Ranko thought about the scroll that Ranma now held. Though
she knew that the gift she had been given would be of grave importance
to their eventual success, she also knew that the effects of that scroll
would be more quickly felt in their lives. He would not pass up the
first opportunity to read it, and start practicing, and doubtless she
would soon be practicing it as well.

Ryouga, having settled into a smooth stride, was thinking about his own
cowardice. His first thought when he had stopped Ranma and Ranko from
taking off had been for him to head off in a different direction, with
his legs back to how they had been at first, so that if Genma was
tracking his movements--he could not see how Genma could track them
otherwise--he would be led off course, then to have Ranko find him with
a spell and bring him to them.

His own fear of being alone again after finally having true friends had
gripped him before he could speak of it, and so he had instead pointed
out the unusual tracks he would leave behind. He simply had not been
able to get past his thoughts of what would happen if they could not
find him again? How would he have reacted to their perceived 'betrayal'
if they had been unable to locate him? His own behavior while under the
influence of depression disgusted him and if it returned, would Ranma
still want anything to do with him?

---

Ukyou smiled nervously at the girl sitting across from her. Even she had
to admit that the girl was rather cute, but how did she get herself into
these things?

For all her bravado about seeking revenge on the Saotome's, the
underlying impetus for her initial desire to have Ranma as her fiance
was her own long-held romanticism. Seeing the barely veiled
disappointment in Ami's eyes when she had realized that her short-lived
connection with the 'hunk' she had encountered was over had simply been
too much for Ukyou's romantic heart. 

She could not bear to callously hurt a girl so obviously starved for
romance; yet at the same time experience told her that nothing good
would come of allowing the girl to feed her crush.

In spite of which, here she sat, offering smiles to a girl she barely
knew. At least, Ukyou mused, she was not the clingy, gushing romance
sort of girl. Romantic at heart she might be, but even she could only
take so much.

"Ukyou-kun?" Ami prodded, and Ukyou started.

"Oh, right, occupation . . . I'm a chef, Ami-san. I cook okynomiyaki.
Now that I know where Saotome-san lives, I will soon be opening a
restaurant nearby. I hope you will be able to come?" Ukyou smiled
softly, even as she crossed her fingers under the table in the hope that
the address Ami had aided her in finding would be too far from Ami's
home to allow her to visit. It was pure luck that Ami's query had given
her the perfect lead-in to revealing that she would not be remaining in
the area.

"Of course, Ukyou-kun, I would be delighted to," Ami responded with a
hesitant smile, though Ukyou detected a tinge of uncertainty in her
voice, as well as a hint of sadness.

Ukyou crowed silently, grateful beyond words that her guess had been
correct. Now she would not have to try to find a way to extricate
herself gracefully from this entanglement, without harming Ami's
self-perception still further.

Now feeling more comfortable, assured that she would not be leading this
girl to a painful heartbreak, Ukyou focused on boosting her confidence,
responding as positively as she could manage to each topic that Ami
brought up.

When Ukyou finally walked Ami home, it was with a much lighter heart, as
she could see the improvement in Ami's confident stride, in the tilt of
her head and the warmth of her smile even in the face of knowing that
Ukyou's presence in her life could only be temporary.

"Thank you," Ami said when they stopped at the steps of her apartment
building. "I had a wonderful time." With a pretty blush, she leaned up
and kissed Ukyou's cheek, then giggled and turning, she ran quickly up
the steps, turning, her face still glowing pink, to wave goodbye before
she slipped inside.

Ukyou grinned as she walked away, her thoughts returning to Ranma, and
his mother, but buoyed now by a strong feeling of hope. Ranma would
return, Fey had promised her that, and even if he was not coming back
for her particularly, he had not forgotten her, and though he had found
a love, it was with a girl that already knew about her, that, if Fey was
right, would be pleased to be her friend. The only dark spot was his
mother and her father. How would they react to the contract Genma had
signed? Would they accept Ranma's freedom from his old man's promises,
or would they try to hold him to them?




Fresh Horizons


Ranma and Ranko took advantage of the freedom that Ranma felt in his
new-found confidence in Ryouga. Ranko's success in tracking Ranma's
chase of Wen strongly indicated the correctness of her belief that they
would be able to magically locate Ryouga if he did get lost, and their
mutual experience in tracking Ryouga recently reduced the likelihood
that even that much would be required. The magical residue from Ranko's
spell would more than counterbalance the lack of prints for those with
the ability to see or sense it. Besides, Ryouga had managed to maintain
a straight course without error until his sense of smell led him astray.

So, while sparing a slight bit of attention for their own keen noses,
Ranma and Ranko took to the trees again, beginning once more their
high-speed chase, racing forward then circling back, orbiting around
their slower, nearly ground-bound companion, as he paced steadily
forward to the coast.

Though they still maintained their human form, knowing that experience
and training in this form was most effective, they remained within the
neko-ken most of the time. Occasionally, when one of them picked up a
strong lead, momentary though that might be, they would drop the
neko-ken, picking it up again at the approach of the other.

Watching Ranma during one of her turns at chasing him, Ranko realized,
as he seemed to miss his grasp and momentarily lose control of his
flight, sending a shower of wood chips flying, that Ranma was trying to
take advantage of the ability she had discovered of their ki claws,
which ordinarily seemed to cut through anything and everything in their
path, to behave more like a physical blade, sticking in the tree and
actually supporting them. He was trying to manage it on the fly, instead
of requiring concentration.

She picked up the play with him as he reversed course. She focused on
her claws, then sunk them into the next tree, letting the drag they now
imparted slow her, spinning her around the tree. A quick thrust of her
legs sent her hurtling once more after her fleeing target, her laugh
echoing in the air as she realized that she had just managed in her
first try what Ranma had still not quite worked out. That was an
achievement to savor, as she knew it would often be the other way
around.

The character of the forest itself was changing as they raced across the
countryside, but they paid it little attention until they found
themselves quite suddenly on the side of a road. Ranko successfully
caught the tree she was about to leave, and held herself back, but
Ranma's claws, though he tried to do the same, tore through the bark
without pause, and he landed on the gravel of the roadbed.

Ranko wondered, as she slipped down the tree trunk, whether his lack of
success had more to do with being either closer to the cat, and
therefore manifesting the neko-ken more strongly, or perhaps merely more
power, more ki to fuel it, such that even at a lower, more limited
output, his claws were as strong as hers at full strength.

The sudden appearance of the road before them might have had little
effect on their course were the road empty, but as chance occurred, it
was occupied. A cart drawn by two donkeys was being driven down the
gravel road by an elderly man. Beside him a young girl sat, and she
cried out in surprise when Ranma landed in the road ahead of them.

The cart drew to a halt as Ranko drew back into the foliage to watch. As
is often the case, the verge of the road was much more thickly overgrown
than the deeper paths of the forest, for here the road allowed the sun
to reach the ground, whereas the treetops shaded most of the forest
floor, reducing, if not eliminating the ground-cover. This made
concealment easy for her.

They likely would have noticed this particular change, and been prepared
for the road, had they not been racing along between nine and twelve
feet above the ground. Ranko risked a look back and breathed a silent
sigh of relief when she saw no sign yet of Ryouga's approach. Hopefully
they would have this incident dealt with and behind them before he
reached the road. She turned back to see how Ranma was handling the
situation.

"No, honored elder, we are not robbers! We are wandering martial
artists. We have come from the north, and we are just passing through."

Startled at his words, Ranko examined the pair on the cart more closely.
Sure enough, the surprise she had perceived in the girl's voice was now
seen to be alarm, while the old man was angry and frustrated.

"And do wandering martial artists make it a habit to leap out before the
carts of innocent villagers? To frighten young children and old men?"

"I did not mean to startle you," Ranma placated, "we were chasing each
other, as a way to pass the distance without boredom, and we were not
expecting the forest to end so suddenly." For indeed, so it did. The
road was not a mere interruption in the forest, but rather, served as
its border. On the other side of the road a rice paddy stretched away
into the distance, though this was apparently a fallow year for it, as
only here and there were growing the occasional clump of rice, and most
of the field was choked with reeds.

"You speak as if there were more than one of you. If you and your
companions be not robbers, why do you conceal yourselves?"

Ranma held up a hand near his hip surreptitiously, signaling Ranko to
hold her place. "One of my companions is under a curse. He is following
more slowly, and Ranko is watching for him. His appearance can be
frightening at times."

Ranma held up his hands when their eyes drifted nervously towards the
forest. "Ranko will catch him before he comes out. Don't worry."

They waited then, in relative silence. Ranma was somewhat surprised that
the pair remained, rather than moving on, but he suspected that it might
have to do with the fact that the elder had been quick to assume that he
was facing highway robbers. The old man might be waiting in the hope
that if they were speaking the truth, he would be able to persuade them
to aid the village in ridding itself of a band of robbers. If there was
an active group of bandits in the area, it would explain the man's
behavior quite tidily.

Finally a noise in the roadside brush drew their attention, and Ranko
emerged, leading Ryouga by a rope tied to his belt. The fanged boy was
looking quite sheepish and a bit annoyed at having to be led, but he was
fully human. The old man's eyes brightened when he saw the three, and
Ranma followed his eyes. He was looking at a pair of camp pots that
Ryouga carried tied to his pack instead of in it, probably there to make
it easier to make lunch without having to disturb his pack. Ranma nodded
to himself. It made sense that the old man would be reassured by that.
Bandits would not carry their camping equipment with them, since they
would have some fixed or only occasionally moved hideout in the woods,
and would travel lightly, so as to strike fast and hard and then fade
back untraceably.

"Very well," the old man said, "I see that you were speaking truth.
Come, join me on my cart, and visit my village. Master Po will be
glad to offer you his hospitality, I am sure."

Ryouga and Ranko looked to Ranma, and he realized that they were
expecting him to decide whether to accept the old man's offer. Ranma
grinned. He doubted that the local bandits would pose that much of a
threat, but it was at least possible that, as had happened before on his
trip through China with his idiot father, the bandits would be renegade
martial artists, led by a disgraced monk or a master whose dojo had
fallen to a dojo destroyer.

"Sure," Ranma agreed, "we'll join you for the night. We don't need a
ride, though."

The old man did not question him further, but merely twitched the reins,
at which the donkeys resumed their progress. Ranko and Ranma kept pace
with the cart now, with Ryouga trailing just a bit, keeping the line
between himself and Ranko taut so as to not jerk her off her feet when
he got distracted.

Ranma noticed the little girl casting glances at Ranko and himself, and
decided to entertain her a bit, and get some practice in himself, since
they could no longer practice their neko-ken skills. 

With his foot, he caught a large stone and kicked it up, catching it in
his hand. He did this twice more, then began juggling the three stones.
He glanced at the girl, and was delighted to see that he now had her
full attention, while the old man next to her had cast a wry look his
way.

Ranma increased his pace slightly, pulling ahead of the small group,
then turned mid-stride, and began walking backward. The little girl
clapped at the way he sent the stones up and turned around them, seeming
as if the stones, for all their motion, were fixed in space and he had
rotated around them.

Now walking backwards, Ranma popped a stone up off the road, sending it
high enough that by the time it came down, it was now in front of Ranko,
rather than himself, and she caught it cleanly, grinning at him.

She motioned for another, and he obliged, and then again, until she was
juggling three. They continued this for several minutes, mixing it up by
occasionally firing a stone higher, or up from behind their back, or
letting it fall almost to the roadbed before kicking it back up again.

Then Ranko nodded at him, and tossed one of her stones his way. He
reciprocated, and though their first few catches were a bit of a
stretch, they soon got used to the adjustments needed to match their
throws to their pace.

The little girl, whose name Ranma realized he still did not know, though
the old man had introduced himself as Lo Huang, was watching them
enthralled, and gave a deep sigh of contented awe when they finally let
the stones fall, as they passed the first building they had yet seen on
the road.

Turning to face his direction of travel again, to avoid backing into
anyone, now that the road was no longer clear, Ranma got his first look
at the village.

It was larger, he guessed, than the one they had so recently liberated,
but in far better shape. If they were suffering from bandits, at least
as yet, bandits had not taken the town. They were doubtless making
travel hazardous, but he saw no fear in the eyes of the people. Even
looking on these three strangers, they displayed nothing but quiet
curiousity.

He dropped back with Ranko, to allow Lo Huang to guide them. They passed
several houses and other buildings, remaining on the main path, before
Lo Huang pulled his cart to a stop before a larger walled structure.

"This is Master Po's school. I expect he will be willing to give you
shelter for the night, as well as tell you tales of our bandit
troubles."

All three of the Japanese youths had to take a second look as the gates
opened, and the old man called out in greeting, "Master Po, I have
brought you some visitors."

The man that had appeared in the space between the gates was very young
for a master, perhaps twenty-five at the outside. The respect in Lo
Huang's voice when he had mentioned Master Po, his own advanced age, and
their own expectations had all lead them to expect an elderly or at
least middle-aged master.

Ranma glanced at Ranko, wondering what her take on this was, and saw
that she was looking down towards the master's feet. Following her gaze
as the man approached, he realized that the man's leg was slightly
misshapen, and he was walking with a limp.

As he took the man in completely, Ranma learned quite a bit more than he
consciously realized. Though he recognized and understood that the man's
leg had been broken and had healed poorly, and that the man nonetheless
moved with the smooth grace of a trained martial artist, his trained
eyes and long history with masters told him quite a bit more, of which
he was oblivious.

Ranko, on the other hand, had both her own lifetime's experience, plus
Ranma's memories to draw upon, as well as an outsider's perspective, to
see more clearly what they were telling him. So she recognized the signs
that Ranma unconsciously observed, the indications that the man's leg
still pained him, the stoicism with which he concealed that pain and
lived a calm life, not railing in bitterness at a promising career cut
short. She saw the signs in him of early training in a hard art,
followed by retraining, probably after his injury, in a soft style of
redirecting blows.

Master Po, as things turned out, was not the only master at the school,
nor were his students incapable of defending the town. Unfortunately,
neither the other master, nor their better students, were present, as
they were on a government-funded trip to Zhengzhou, capital of Henan
province. Somewhat amusingly, given the purpose of the trip was martial
arts, Zhengzhou was not the destination because of the famous Shaolin
temple there. Instead, it was merely because it was a central city
(central to the more populous Eastern China, at any rate), accessible by
rail from Beijing and other important cities, and possessed of a
generally temperate climate.

The trip was an important one for the school, but the celebratory mood
of the leave-taking festival had not lasted long after. Apparently the
preparations had gathered the attention of a group of bandits, eager to
take the opportunity to squeeze funds from the small community.

Master Po had not suffered directly; the bandits were smart enough not
to beard a master in his school, injured or not, but he could not
venture out to deal with them.

Though Ranma had later, when it was again just the three of them,
brought up the question of whether it might be best to attack at night,
Ranko had dissuaded him. 

"By accepting their hospitality, we show both that we are trustworthy,
that we would not sneak away in the night, and that we trust them, not
to sneak in and harm. But, more to our point, if we eat their food,
and sleep within their walls, then when we clean out the bandits, we
get two benefits. First, we'll be repaying them, and defending our
friends, in the eyes of the kami, not striking without need, or
wasting our powers on those unworthy of the gifts we have been given.
And hopefully, if we can play it off to the townspeople as repaying
their generosity, they won't try to repay us with gifts and such. I'd
rather not be seen as mercenaries."

"Alright, I guess that makes sense. I don't think Lord Fey would mind
one way or the other, but if it will avoid trouble with other kami, a
good night's rest won't hurt any."

With that they settled down in an inner room where futons had been laid
out for them by the younger students. As the time was not yet late,
dinner being only shortly over, they took the opportunity of a peaceful
sheltered night to bring out their gifts; at least, Ranma and Ryouga
brought out theirs, to begin reading them.

Ryouga, thinking of Ranko's gift, reminded them of the feat of magic
they had accomplished outside the temple. "If you can grow a jungle like
that, do you think you really need to look for someone to care for those
seeds? Couldn't you do it with the magic?"

Ranko shook her head, her brow furrowed. "I am sure that
Bastet-megami-sama would surely have known that we had been given access
to spells. After all, we used them during our little 'quest.' She said
we need to find someone skilled in growing, and I expect we will have to
do so. Probably they won't have their full effect if grown magically, or
have to absorb energy slowly, or something like that."

"Ah, I suppose that makes sense," Ryouga conceded, before pulling open
his own scroll.

"We should probably not practice anything ki-related while we are here,"
Ranko advised. "We don't want to affect the wa of the school."

Ranma snorted in amusement. "You better not try any of yours either,
Ryouga, or we'll have to hunt for you instead of bandits."

---

Having searched for Ranma for several years on her own by now, after her
seaside training in preparation for the search, Ukyou was well used to
travel, both country and city, and wasted little time finding the area
where Ranma's mother lived once she had the address in hand.

Her stealthy observation of the Saotome home paid off quickly, but she
had difficulty believing her eyes. She was unable to believe the
red-haired elegant kimono-clad woman could possibly be the wife of the
slovenly liar and thief that was Genma in her memory, faded and warped
though her image of him might be. She had merely been admiring the
confident and self-assured stride of the older woman, only to gape in
disbelief when she turned in at the Saotome home.

"That . . . that can't be her," Ukyou muttered, confused and uncertain.
Perhaps the woman had been a friend of Nodoka? She could hardly believe
that her father would have arranged for her to marry someone without
pure Japanese blood . . . not that it bothered her, particularly, but
her father was always so adamant about honor and giri.

Continued observation over the next several days would eventually
confirm that the red-haired lady was the only person coming and going
from the Saotome home.

At this point in time, however, Ukyou was content to have found the home
she was looking for, and confirmation that there was a woman occupying
the property. With that knowledge in hand, she turned her attention to
finding a suitable location to open a restaurant.

She had used some of the money given to her by Fey to obtain a hotel
room. Locating an apartment would have been a waste, since she intended
to look for a restaurant property with an attached living space, if one
could be found.

Between short stints watching Nodoka's house, and always seeing only the
same woman there, and canvassing the area, from a first rough pass just
to get a feel for the relative wealth of the different areas, to a
series of deeper investigations, she spent almost a week before settling
on a property.

It had several advantages, being not too far from Nodoka's home, along a
route she had seen the older woman travel several times, as well as
being near a high school, and in an area that was underserved as far as
fast-serve restaurants went.

She would probably experience more competition from street vendors near
the office sector than from the other sit-down restaurants, but she had
not observed any vendors in the direct vicinity of the school, and while
street-vendors certainly had their place in serving the after-work
crowd, as she well knew, having filled that niche herself, she also knew
that there would be many students and salarymen who would appreciate
being able to rest their weary feet while getting an inexpensive but
tasty and quick meal. 

Without Fey's investment in her, she would have had to wait until she
could tell her father that she had Ranma in her sights before he would
agree to helping her set up in a fixed location. Even then, he would
probably have only covered the down payment and possibly a few months
rent, whereas with Fey's money, she was actually able to purchase the
building outright, saving substantially on what she would have paid . .
. assuming that she would be here for at least five years.

It needed some work, but she was used to that, and it had an attached
apartment that actually came partially furnished. While the cookware in
the restaurant kitchen would need some updating, and a few pieces would
need to be pulled out to be replaced with her griddle, it had just the
sort of open kitchen with a bar that she preferred, as it made it feel
more like cooking and serving from her okynomiyaki cart.

The meagerly furnished apartment was a definite step down from the
elegant hotel room she had lived in for most of a week, and with the
work to be done, and the permits she needed to open, it would be another
week or two before she could really focus on Nodoka, but based on what
Fey had told her, she should have enough time.

Her first three days in her new home went fairly smoothly, as she
obtained her starting supplies, arranged for the gas and utilities to be
placed in her name, and obtained the application papers for the
restaurant's license. She made a start on both the financial books for
her new business, and her own private books on suppliers, where she
would track the quality and prices of the available suppliers, to help
optimize her purchases.

This was something she had studied under her father years ago, but had
never had the chance to practice. Always on the move, and only needing
enough supplies for the next two or three days for her cart, as she
could not pack and move more, she had not had any leverage for
quantities or supplier relationships, and she had simply had to take
what she could get. Now she would finally get to put those skills to the
test.

She had not been too worried about not meeting Nodoka yet, feeling it
would be soon enough once she had managed to open her store. Events,
however, were not inclined to follow her plan.

After a nearly five hour wait in the district office arranging to have
the necessary inspectors visit her site, Ukyou was drained. A long walk
home was not something she was looking forward to, but to walk past
Nodoka's house was only one block out of her way, a short enough
distance that wasting the opportunity by grabbing a taxi seemed foolish.

Unfortunately for Ukyou, rain started shortly after she left the
district office. It was not bad at first, but Ukyou kept her eyes open
for a taxi, cursing softly at her own poor planning. Not seeing any open
vehicles, Ukyou swore louder and started to run.

Thin streets and high buildings built the wind's speed quickly, leading
to strong gusts even in the residential areas. As the rain thickened,
making seeing ever more difficult, Ukyou drew her baker's peel, trying
to shield her face from the driving rain.

With the peel blocking her view upwards, but improving her vision
straight ahead, she picked up speed. It was too late to get out of the
rain and be at all dry; Ukyou was now thoroughly soaked. She just wanted
out of it. She may only have a simple shower instead of a full furo in
her small second floor apartment, but a nice hot shower would feel much
better than these icy needles.

Up ahead, one of the homes had suffered in terms of home repair. With no
husband and no skill in maintenance, Nodoka had done the best she could,
but that was only so much. In the high winds, an ornamental stone lamp
had cracked free of its foundation.

It slowly rolled off its perch, followed quickly by a clang, a startled
cry, a thud, and silence.




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.




Southern Coast

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