Waters Under Earth A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic by Alan Harnum -harnums@thekeep.org -harnums@hotmail.com (old/backup) All Ranma characters are the property of Rumiko Takahashi, first published by Shogakugan in Japan and brought over to North America by Viz Communications. Waters Under Earth at Transpacific Fanfiction: http://www.humbug.org.au/~wendigo/transp.html http://users.ev1.net/~adina/shrines2/fanfics.html Chapter 3 : Divided Duties "By my wings, they certainly did a number on this place, didn't they?" Samofere said to Kima as the two of them picked their way through the rubble around Jusendo. The mountain had been severely damaged in the battle, with numerous collapses and rock-slides changing the appearance drastically. The waterfall still spilled down the side, though, flowing off towards the springs visible in the distance in a single river that would gradually split off into a hundred different ones, to fill the pools of Jusenkyou. "They did," Kima agreed after a moment. "Much damage was done to the Dragon Tap and the Phoenix Tap. Loame and his workers will come out and do what they can after they finish the renovations in the mountain home..." "How are those going?" Samofere asked as he scrambled his way over a pile of shattered chunks of stone, using his walking stick to get purchase. Kima sighed mildly. "Well enough. I think Loame will be able to get the royal family to agree on his use for the Gekkaja and the Kinjakan. It's not like there's any other use for them until Saffron matures more." "How is he doing?" "I've got Koruma and Masara baby-sitting him," Kima said with a small smile. "They're keeping a close eye on him." "And Lord Helubor's concern for his relative's welfare? Is the royal family truly so dissatisfied?" "Would you be offended if I spoke frankly, Samofere?" "Not in the least." "The day the seven remaining members of the royal family will agree on something is the day I renounce my duty to my house and go to join Loame and his workers." Samofere laughed at that. "Was that a joke, Lady Kima?" "Perhaps just a small one," Kima said as she walked around a shattered stone outcropping. Samofere smiled a bit wistfully. "Hot and cold water to every part of the mountain... It has been so long since we had that." Kima blinked, but said nothing. The spring of Phoenix Mountain had been dead nearly a century before she had taken her first flight out of the mountain. Samofere looked back at her, and read the surprise in her face. "My age shows, doesn't it, Lady Kima?" "A little," she said. She could see the statues of the dragon and the phoenix, mouths open to pour forth water. They would not do that in their current state; the Dragon Tap had been ripped out and tilted up ninety degrees, almost as if it had been obeying the outsider's command. "Dragon, look to the heavens," she said softly. Samofere looked at her. "What was that?" She shook her head. "Nothing." The Phoenix Tap had been sliced in half at the neck, and was tilted over into the now-empty pool beneath it. A few scattered fragments of Lord Saffron's egg still lingered in the basin, and the entire chamber was littered with rubble from the battle, open to the sky from the holes blown in the mountain. She had never quite realized until now the sheer scale of the fight between Lord Saffron and the outsider; now that she looked at it, though, she could see they had nearly leveled the mountain. "Remarkable," Samofere said. "Quite astonishing power." "Lord Saffron did most of it," Kima said stiffly. "Yes, but who won in the end?" Samofere said quietly. "It is not always the strongest who shall win a fight, Lady Kima." "You can just call me Kima, Samofere," Kima said slowly. "We are not in the mountain. Protocol may be relaxed." "Very well," Samofere said with a shrug. They were next to the Phoenix Tap now, and the old man knelt down by the dry pool where Saffron's egg had rested, his black wings brushing against the ground with a soft whispering sound. "What is it?" Kima asked. Samofere said nothing; he reached down into the empty pool and picked up a fragment of eggshell the size of his hand between two fingers. "Who is the Lord of Jusenkyou, Kima?" he asked quietly. "Lord Saffron, of course," Kima answered immediately. "We have always been taught that." Samofere chuckled softly. "Because you are taught something does not mean it is true, Kima." He held up the piece of eggshell; one side was white and smooth, and the other was mottled in a mad rainbow swirl of colours, the part that had faced towards Saffron, lying within the egg, as he made his transformation. "Have you ever wondered, Kima, why Jusenkyou exists at all?" Kima frowned. "Where is this going, Samofere?" "Think about it," Samofere said quietly, turning the fragment over and over in his hands. "A valley in a country of more than a billion people where there exists waters that could have unlimited uses in the world outside it. Imagine an end to hunger, Kima. Insects and rodents transformed into cattle and sheep with the waters. Have you ever seen the results of the Spring of Drowned Yeti-Riding-Bull-Carrying-Crane-And-Serpent? An army of those monsters to whoever controlled the waters." Kima shook her head. "The springs are..." "Then ask yourself this," Samofere said, dropping the fragment to the stone ground with a clink. "Why does no one know? Why does the government of China not send in troops to seize this place? Look at the Joketsuzoku or the Musk Dynasty. Look at us, Kima. Why are we safe here? Surely someone would report the sight of winged people flying about. Yet in this valley, we are safe. Our lives continue as they did four thousand years ago." His voice softened as he looked at her. "Outside, though, there is danger for us in our true forms." Kima turned away from him and wrapped her wings around her body tightly like a shield. "Samofere, please, I do not wish to talk of..." Samofere picked up the bit of eggshell again. "Things have a way of happening to those who might wish the valley or its people harm, Kima. Government inspectors fall into the pools, or just disappear altogether. Some of them simply abandon their jobs and go to live in one of the villages. Troops will miss the area in their patrols, skirting it as if there were a barrier. And we are safe here, Kima. Have you never questioned why?" "Lord Saffron..." Kima began. "He.. his..." Samofere shook his head. "Lord Saffron is many things, Kima. But he is not the Lord of Jusenkyou." Kima frowned; Samofere was coming close to blasphemy here. "Samofere, what does this mean? What does this have to do with the outsider?" "He has a name, Kima," Samofere said. "What does it have to do with the outsider?" Samofere sighed. He walked across the cavern to the Dragon Tap. "Come, Kima. It is time." Kima walked swiftly after him, visibly agitated. "I should be in the library, Samofere. There is much I still do not understand..." "That is why I brought you here," Samofere said. "So that you might understand." He placed his hands against the side of the Dragon Tap near the base, talons clicking against the strange, hard stone it was made of. He opened his mouth and began to sing softly, words she didn't know. The ground underneath her feet shook slightly. Instinctively she took to the air, white wings carrying her up above the tops of the Dragon Tap and the Phoenix Tap. Samofere was on his knees beside the Dragon Tap, still singing, his old voice coming close to cracking at times. "What are you doing, Samofere?" she called down, turning a broad spiral in mid-air above his head. Samofere said nothing, and Kima's face was troubled as she continued to fly. Then, with a gasp of shock, she saw what was happening to the floor between the Dragon Tap and the Phoenix Tap. It was as if the rock had become water, and a whirlpool had grown within it, a whirlpool that turned stone itself round and round in an ever-quickening spiral. The rubble was being drawn into the mass of swirling stone, bobbing like chunks of ice in the ocean before it too began to melt and flow into that impossible vortex of liquid stone. The stone suddenly blossomed up a dozen feet, swelling like a soap bubble about to burst, veins of darker stone swirling amidst lighter, and then it rose higher into a funnel, a blurred cyclone of rock that was liquid without being molten, spinning endlessly around a central point, rising higher and higher until it was a hundred feet high, and she was forced to swoop out of the way before it engulfed her. And then it collapsed upon itself, flowed down into the ground in an instant. Kima landed, barely believing her own eyes. Where flat cavern floor had been moments before there was a spiral staircase descending into an impossibly deep pit. A cold breeze wafted up from it, and it smelled, not unpleasantly, of water and impossible age. The steps were wide, several feet across from left to right, but they were narrowly spaced, with only just enough room to place your feet on them. They went down until the light of the sun that reached through the open roof of the Heart of Jusendo could illuminate no more of their winding passage. They were pitted and cracked, looking as if they were worn smooth by the passage of countless feet and even more countless years. They looked as if they could have been there for a thousand years. "I did not know you knew the songs of the rock," Kima said quietly to Samofere, who still crouched by the Dragon Tap. "Not even Loame could have done that. I did not think it was possible to do something like that, even with stone-singing." "It takes effort," Samofere gasped. "But it has been done many times before, and the stone is used to this shape. The caverns are narrow down there, Kima, and the air is cold. We would do well to change to human form and change into warmer clothing." Kima was oddly silent for a moment. "Very well," she said at last, pulling her water flask from her belt and heading off behind a pile of rubble to change. When she came back out, Samofere was standing near the first few steps, tightening the belt of the loose brown robe he now wore over his human body. He looked up, and she saw his hand tighten on his walking stick. "How did you get in here?" he said slowly. "Who are you?" "It's me, Samofere," Kima sighed, combing human fingers through the unfamiliar hair, cut differently from hers, and the wrong colour, dark-blue black instead of pale, silvery white she was used to. She'd lost several inches of height and a few years of age as well. "What happened?" Samofere asked. "Kima, how did this come about?" Kima sighed and bowed her head slightly. "I see you don't know everything about what happened. To get the map back, we kidnapped the outsider's fiancee from Japan and created a pool with her form. I dunked myself in and infiltrated them to obtain the map." She tugged at the collar of her shirt; it felt strange, too constricting without the open back to allow her wings freedom. Although she had no wings right now. "Let's just get this over with." "So you are an exact duplicate of Ranma's fiancee now?" Samofere said. "Interesting..." Kima put her feet upon the steps. "Let's just go down there and see whatever it is you want me to see." Samofere said nothing, being occupied with pouring oil into a round glass sphere that he'd fitted into a small hollow at the top of his walking stick. He lit a match and touched it to the oil, and a blue flame began to burn in the glass sphere, rising up a few inches above the open top of the sphere. "Come, Kima," Samofere said as he began to descend the steps, the blue flame waving slightly. "It is time to meet the true Lord of Jusenkyou." Kima said nothing, and again touched her fingers to the hair that was not hers. Together, blue flame casting flickering light onto the dark walls of the pit, they began to descend down the stairs. ********** He was in a boat this time, poling his way across a vast, murky lake towards a small island at the centre. Reeds rose from the banks in thick clumps, tall and waving in the slight breeze that blew across the lake. He had been here before, or perhaps he was here, or perhaps he would be here. The island awaited him, received him, called to him. The boat drifted amongst the reeds and bumped softly against the bank. Somewhere off in the distance, a bird called, lovely and aching sound in this heart of silence. Reeds brushed by him in a caress as he placed his feet upon solid ground and stepped onto the edge of the island. Grass stalks bent beneath his bare feet, tickled at the edges of his skin. He walked, and in the grass around him crickets chattered and small animals fled from his footsteps, rustling through the foliage to hide. At the centre of the island he found the building, as at the centre of the lake he'd found the island. The building was open on all four sides, and the wind sang mournfully through intricately carved sections of bamboo attached to the flat underside of the sloping, red-tiled pagoda roof. The roof was held up by four broad pillars of red-gold wood, polished so brightly he could see his reflection in them. The building was occupied almost entirely by a wide pool of water, contained inside a white stone basin rising up nearly to his waist. The water within flowed continually down dozens of small channels carved into the white stone, down across even smaller channels in the floor that split off like the branches of a tree, and out through one of the four openings of the building, where it drained off into the ground. The water of the pool seemed limitless, but he was not within the building yet, and he could not see their source. But how, he asked himself, could a pool that small replenish itself so quickly, for he realized that gallons of water every second were flowing from the pool. And then he stepped within the confines of the open-sided building, feeling cool water flow over his feet from the channels, tickling his senses to sharpness, and he saw. She floated there, near the bottom of the pool, and she was golden and beautiful. Her eyes were closed, pale, shining hair spread out behind her head. Her dress was golden, matching her hair, and her skin shone as well, golden light from beneath pale flesh. Pale flesh rent by horrible wounds, at the throat and the wrists. The wounds were broad and deep, but bloodless. Or not, because he could see that something came forth, something spun with sparks of gold and silver within its liquid confines. Water bled from her, and she was the source of the pool. And yet he could see the slow rise and fall of her chest beneath the golden dress, and he realized that she still lived, though her eyes were closed. A terrible, aching grief filled him, and he stepped forward and reached down into the pool, desperate to help her. Whose waters would not let him past, for it was as if that flowing, glassy surface were steel. He hammered his fists against it, but not even the smallest spreading circle grew upon the waters to indicate that his blows had the smallest effect. The waters flowed, yet their surface was harder than arctic ice. The wind sang through the bamboo flutes beneath the roof, and in them he heard snatches of a song, but he could make out no words, for it was very, very far away. Outside the building, rain began to fall, falling down upon the grass, tinkling on the roof. The pounding rain mingled with the flow of water through the channels and the piping songs of bamboo flutes, mingled and became one with his heartbeat and his breathing, became one with him and he was the waters and he felt them in a gentle caress on his skin... ********** Ranma decided it hadn't been such a good idea to sleep up on the roof after all. He'd thought it would help him think about what decision to make, but the end result was that he had just woken up wet and female, with the rain coming down in a sharp rhthym on the roof. She stretched, and got out of her blankets, which were becoming rapidly sodden from the rain. The sun hadn't even risen yet, but it would soon enough. Before it set tonight, Ranma had to make a decision, one that would choose the path she was going to take. Her parents and Akane's father had finally laid down the law last night. Not another wedding, not this time. What was said tonight would decide whether or not his engagement to Akane would continue. But there had been a deadly seriousness in Soun's voice, and whatever decision Ranma made tonight was going to change everything. But what decision would she make? If she chose Akane, how could she abandon Ukyou and Shampoo, who were her friends? And if she let Akane be taken away from her, made Soun break the engagement as he'd threatened, then what would she do? The rain tattooed itself upon the roof and her skin, and she sighed and flicked her pigtail irritably over one shoulder, spraying droplets of water across her face. She gathered up her futon and blankets under one arm, then crawled to the edge of the roof closest to the bedroom she shared with her father. She'd left the window unlatched, and she knew the old man was a deep sleeper. The window creaked open, and she swung down and into the room in one smooth motion. Her father, sleeping as he often did as a panda, was a lump of black and white fur in the dimly lit room. Still tired, not even caring that blanket and futon were slightly damp, Ranma laid them out on the floor and slid the window closed, then crawled back to sleep, for sleep, at least, would let her forget some things until she awoke again. ********** The broom swished across the streets, stirring up faint clouds of dust in its wake. Shampoo held the bamboo stick tightly in her hands, feeling the smooth, supple wood under her fingers. The rain of a few hours ago was mostly drained away now, lying in scattered puddles in the streets that she was extremely careful not to accidentally splash up onto herself with the broom. The early-morning streets were empty of people, the stores dark and closed. The sun was rising, but it would be a good half-hour before the city truly began to come alive. Early morning was her favourite time in the city; it was one of the few times she was able to forget, if just for a little while, the crowded streets and the unfamiliar sights of Japan. She had woken earlier than usual this morning, and with nothing to do, had decided to sweep the walk outside the Nekohanten. She'd gradually relaxed into the rhthym of it, allowing the gentle motion of the sweeping to take away whatever thoughts she might have. She paused for a moment and wiped a hand across her forehead, flipping back a few sweat-darkened bangs that dangled in front of her eyes. The continual cloud of dust she'd been stirring up in her wake settled to the ground around the head of the broom. Behind her, there was a soft fluttering sound, as an errant breeze blew the banners hanging beneath the restaurant sign against each other. She glanced back at them, and smiled slightly. The stylized dragon and phoenix were comforting memories of home, symbols she'd seen around the village many times. Home. The thought made the smile disappear as quickly as it had come. Home was a place far, far away, across oceans and rivers and mountains and valleys. Home was not here, and never would be. How sick she was of Japan could not be expressed. She returned to her sweeping with renewed vigour, the dust swirling up about her ankles again. Gradually, she was able to push down thoughts of home beneath the pleasant monotony of the broom's motion. She hummed softly, under her breath, not sure where the tune came from for a few moments before she remembered. An old song of her childhood, part of a game she'd played in the village square. There'd been words to it as well, silly childish ones. What were they again? The words came to her, and she sang quietly, surprised at how familiar they felt. *Come to the pools and play with me* Just her, and the broom, and the song, with the air still smelling crisp from the rainfall, fresh and new. The game had been played by a circle of seven, who walked around another child at the centre of the circle. The one in the centre stood with her hand covering her eyes and a finger outstretched. Each time they finished the set of six verses, they would stop walking and whoever was pointed at would leave the circle and take the place of the child in the centre, who would sit by the side and wait for the end of the game, until there was no one left. The last child remaining would start the game again, then. *My heart is deeper than the sea* It brought back pleasant memories, of a happy childhood in the village, of training with the other girls to be warriors, of the times between training when they ran around, laughing and playing together. Unconsciously, her voice rose in volume. *Come little child and take my hand* The dust rose slowly around her as she swept, moving as gracefully as she would have in a fight, dust rising as her song rose. *For mine is green and pleasant land* Out of her sight, a small black shape trotted out of an alleyway and blinked sleepy eyes at the pleasant melody in a language he didn't know. *Your shape shall be of falseness shorn* The morning sun was spilling golden down the streets now, shining sparkling glimmers in the glass windows of storefronts. It warmed her face, as she came to the last verse, not realizing she had an audience of one. *And in my waters be reborn* She finished, and dropped the broom in surprise when she heard something make a soft, almost inquiring, squeal. It clattered on the streets, and she glanced down at the small black pig with the yellow and black bandanna around its neck. Then came embarrassment, that someone, anyone, had heard her singing a song like a child. The black pig grunted and raised a hoof to point at the door of the Nekohanten. "Nihao Ryoga," Shampoo said, kneeling down and picking up the broom from the street as she regarded the pig. "Want hot water?" P-chan squealed and nodded his head. Shampoo rose up, tucking the broom under one arm, and stepped towards the door of the restaurant. The pig squealed again, and shook his head at her. "What?" she said. P-chan trotted off towards the alleyway from which he'd emerged, and after a moment and a glance back from the pig, Shampoo followed him. "Ah," she said in realization as they neared the alleyway. Ryoga's clothes lay in a wet heap on the floor of the alley, next to his enormous backpack and red bamboo umbrella. She carefully fitted the broom next to the umbrella, then tucked the clothing under her arm and picked up the backpack with her free hand. The backpack was even heavier than it looked, and the umbrella's weight was incredible, but Shampoo was easily strong enough to lift both of them. P-chan leading a few steps in front of her, she headed back to the restaurant and slid the door open with her shoulder, keeping a grip on the clothing and backpack. She stepped inside, waited until P-chan was in, and then closed the door behind her after putting the backpack and Ryoga's clothes on one of the restaurant tables. The broom she consigned to leaning against the table edge. "Wait here, Ryoga. I get you hot water," Shampoo said. The pig nodded and sat down on his haunches, glancing around the dimly-lit dining room of the Nekohanten. The chairs were up on the wooden tables, and in one corner of the ceiling an electric fan hummed softly, making the inside of the restaurant cool. A folding wall on one side was painted with a scene of distant mountains and bare-branched trees, done in watercolour on silk. Shampoo stepped behind the counter and pushed back the curtain that separated the dining room from the kitchen, heading back into the area where they prepared the meals. That was simple and functional, without the elaborate design of the dining room; that was for the customer's benefit. There was a certain way a Chinese restaurant was supposed to look in people's minds, and her great-grandmother had decided it was best to fulfill it. The kitchen had been given no such care, though, and it was crowded with shelves and counters and boxes of noodles and vegetables. Shampoo filled a small pot with hot water from the sink and headed back out into the dining room. P-chan hadn't moved from the spot he'd been in, but he lifted his head slightly and looked longingly up at the hot water. Shampoo tipped a little out over his head, and stepped back as the small pig expanded to a large, naked boy. She covered her mouth with her hand to hide a smile as Ryoga frantically scrambled to cover himself with his hands. "Could you please look away?" he asked plaintively. "Is not like I no see it before," Shampoo said, but she turned away anyway, hearing the soft rustle of clothing being pulled on. "You done yet?" "Just about." She glanced back surreptitiously, in time to see Ryoga pull his shirt over his broad chest. He went red and turned away from her. "You only man I ever meet who shyer around women than Ranma," she said as she folded her arms and cocked her head to one side to look at him. "Why you sleeping in alley, anyway?" "I kinda got lost after the wedding," Ryoga said with a sigh. "I didn't really want to hang around..." "Don't think any of us did," Shampoo said quietly, leaning back and putting her hands on the edge of the table behind her as she looked at Ryoga. "If you and Ukyou hadn't shown up when you did, I don't know what would have happened," Ryoga said with a shake of his head that ended up with him looking at the floor, dark bangs hiding his eyes. "Sweet Akane might have ended up married to that..." He raised his head and looked at the displeased expression on Shampoo's face. "Sorry. I probably shouldn't talk about him like that in front of you." "Is okay," Shampoo said, her face softening. "You and him not get along all the time. I know that. Ranma is hard man to understand." "You think you understand him?" Ryoga said in a slightly disbelieving tone. "No," Shampoo said with a shrug and sigh. "Not understand him at all." Ryoga looked uncomfortable for a moment, then turned away from her and grabbed his backpack and umbrella from the table they rested on. "Well... I guess I should be going. Thanks a lot, Shampoo. For the hot water." "No problem," Shampoo said. "We Jusenkyou people look out for each other, right?" Ryoga nodded. "I guess so." There was a hesitant look on his face for a moment, and then he spoke again. "What was that you were singing outside?" Shampoo looked away for a moment before answering. "Just child song. Something we used to sing in village." "It was nice," Ryoga said slowly, looking embarrassed at his words. "Even though I didn't understand any of it." "Remind me of home," Shampoo said wistfully. "Do you... do you miss China?" Shampoo looked surprised, then gave Ryoga warm smile that made her face light up. "Yes. I miss it a lot." "It's a beautiful place," Ryoga said. "So different from Japan. There's still so much of it that's unspoiled, where they haven't thrown up fast-food chains and shopping malls..." He sighed. "I understand how you feel. I miss my home too." Then he shut his mouth, and the rare moment of understanding between them faded. "I really should go." Shampoo pushed herself up from leaning on the table and took a few steps towards Ryoga. "You want me to help you find someplace? Maybe go to Tendo house?" Ryoga looked very surprised at the offer, but shook his head. "No. Thanks anyway." He walked to the door, boots clumping on the wooden floor, and placed his hand on the sliding door that led outside. "Whatever it is I'm looking for, I've got to find it myself." He raised his umbrella, a half-salute of farewell, red bamboo a pattern of dark and pale shadow in the lights from overhead and the beams of the rising sun outside. "I'll see you around, Shampoo." Then he slid the door open and was gone before she had a chance to say any words of farewell herself. She picked up the broom from where it was propped against the table and cradled it against the crook of her elbow before she turned to address the silent listener she'd only noticed a few seconds ago. "What you want, Mousse?" Mousse glided out without a sound from the kitchen, hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe, coloured a blue so pale it was almost white. There was a slight whisper of the hem of his robe against the cloth of his pants, but his slippered feet were silent on the floor. The bruise she'd given him over his eye yesterday was already fading. "So, it's Ryoga as well now, is it Shampoo?" he asked in a tired tone of voice. A hand emerged from inside the sleeves of his robe, slender fingers holding his glasses. He put them on, and the combination of where he stood and the light made one lens opaque and the other clear; the effect was rather disconcerting. "What you talking about?" Shampoo asked. Mousse shook his head, dark hair following his motion a moment later before it fell back into place. "When will you realize the only one who cares for you is me, Shampoo? I've always loved you; I'll always love you." "I just talking to him," Shampoo said, not sure why she felt the need to defend her actions. He took a few steps forward, and he was in front of her, both his hands holding one of hers. "Please, say you'll be mine forever. We can go back to the village together, and..." "Let go of hand." When he didn't, and opened his mouth to say more, Shampoo brought the broom up and knocked his glasses off into the corner of the room. The blow wasn't hard, but Mousse released her hand and touched his fingers to the cheek on the side she'd struck him on. "Shampoo, I'm sorry, I only want to show you how much I love you," he said slowly. "I love you more than..." "I know you love me," Shampoo said, momentary anger draining from her. "You do?" Mousse said, hope rising in his voice, face lighting up. "Then you understand?" "I always understand," she said quietly. "Is just I not love you. That what you no understand." She watched his face fall, as it did every time she said something like this. Before she could see anymore, she swept past him, not wanting to face whatever words he might have. She'd heard them all before anyway. ********** Breakfast was extremely uncomfortable for Ranma that morning. Everyone, from his father and mother to Akane, seemed to be staring at him. The gazes ranged from inquiring to expectant, but he was definitely the centre of attention this morning. "Why did you spend the night on the roof, anyway?" Akane asked. "Too hot inside," Ranma muttered into his rice bowl. "I guess the rain must've cooled you down then," Nabiki quipped as she took delicate mouthfuls of her food. "It must be interesting, not knowing what gender you're going to wake up as, huh Ranma?" "Nabiki," Kasumi said. The tone was only gently chiding, but it made Nabiki go silent and look away from her older sister. "I think it was Ranma's choice to sleep outside," Nodoka said cheerfully. "He has to make choices sometimes." Ranma winced and tilted his head down to examine intently the pattern of wood grain in the table he was currently sitting at. He rapidly shoveled the last of his food into his mouth and stood up. "Well, that was great. I've gotta go to school now." "But it's not time to leave yet," Akane said, pointing to the hall clock. "So why are you in such a rush?" "Hey, I don't wanna be late or nothin'," Ranma said, grabbing up his bag from the floor. "If you're not finished breakfast, that's okay. I'll see you there." "Hold on, I'll come with you," Akane said, putting her rice bowl down. "Nabiki, you wanna come too?" Nabiki shook her head and smiled slightly. "No. I wouldn't want to cut in on your quality time with Ranma." Akane gave her sister a scowl no one else saw, and hurried into the kitchen after Ranma. He was already grabbing his bento from the counter, and he tossed her the one Kasumi had made for her as she entered. "You're in a hurry today," she said, tucking the bento into her schoolbag as the two of them moved out to the front door and left the house, heading down the path that led out and under the large gate in the fence that separated the house and attached dojo from the streets. They passed under the gate, shaded for a moment from the sun, and then they were out on the streets of Nerima, which were rapidly filling with people. "Can't a guy want to be early for something for once?" Ranma said irritably. "You want to be early for school?" Akane said. "Give me a break." She gave him a small, hesitant smile. "I never got a chance to thank you for hauling me out of the canal yesterday." "Shampoo did most of the hauling," Ranma said, looking away at a flight of starlings wheeling in the air above his head. "I just kinda dived in after you." "Well, thanks," Akane said. "I never even saw you after that. It was like you were avoiding me." "Had some stuff to think about," Ranma said guardedly. "Hmm? What kind of stuff?" Akane asked. He mumbled something and trailed off. "I guess you just don't trust me," Akane sniffed, turning her head away from him. "It's not that," Ranma said with a sigh. "I've just got... some decisions I have to make about things. Stuff I should have made up my mind about a long time ago." Akane's head swiveled back to him. "What do you mean?" "Akane, are you happy?" Ranma asked suddenly. Akane blinked. "Of course I'm happy. I have my family, and my friends, and I have..." She trailed off, cheeks flushing to a pale pink. "What do you care whether I'm happy anyway?" she snapped after a moment. "I just wanted to know," Ranma said with a shrug. "Are you happy even with... all the other stuff?" "What other stuff?" "Ya know. Monsters, princes, the other girls who want me..." Ranma said. Akane snorted. "Why should I care about other girls who want you? It's not like I do." "Oh." A silence fell between them for a moment, before Akane spoke again. "Sometimes it bugs me. All the weird stuff that started happening ever since you came. But I've got to say it makes life more interesting..." She sighed. "It scares me sometimes, though. I..." She took a deep breath. "When I had all the moisture drained from me in China, you know, I don't remember anything. Just my hands on the Kinjakan and then waking up in..." Again she trailed off, and again she blushed. "Waking up in what?" Ranma inquired. "Waking up in your arms," Akane said finally. "And hearing you say..." "Did I really say it?" Ranma wondered out loud before he could stop himself. "I think you did," Akane said in a quiet voice. "Maybe it was just me hoping that-" She stopped speaking abruptly, and stepped away to one side, realizing she'd been drifting gradually closer to him as they talked. The early-morning crowds were growing in volume, and they'd be at school in a few minutes. "Hoping what?" Ranma asked softly. Akane swatted him lightly on the back with her schoolbag. "Never mind," she growled. Ranma stepped in front of her and put his hands gently but firmly on her shoulders, stopping the two of them in their tracks in the middle of the streets. "Akane... if you could choose to get out of this engagement, really get out of it, have our parents agree to it, would you?" he asked, catching her dark eyes with his gaze and not letting her look away. "What, do you mean you want to?" Akane snapped quickly, though she could no more have torn her eyes from his than she could have held back a tidal wave. "Well, if you're so sick of me, then-" "It doesn't matter what I want," Ranma said slowly. "I've got to know what you want." There was a long, drawn out silence between them, a tangled moment that stretched into forever. The crowds parted around them, not paying any attention to the two of them. The tang of the early-morning rain still lingered vaguely in the air, an aftertaste of sharp water carried on the gentle winds of dawn. "No," Akane said, and there was finality in it. "No, no, no, no, no." "Why?" Ranma said, and it was like a command. "Because... because..." Akane said. "Because I don't know. Because sometimes when I'm with you, just sometimes, when it's just the two of us, I feel..." "You feel?" "I don't know how I feel," Akane said. "I don't understand. But I don't feel... I don't feel that way around anyone else. And it feels so right." There was a shimmer in her eyes. "Do you... would you break it, Ranma?" Ranma looked into her eyes, and he smiled, and half-closed his eyes because of a reason he did not know. "Oh, Akane, never. Never, never, never." A long, gentle sigh broke from Akane's lips, and as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Ranma's hands drew her closer with a gentle pressure on her shoulders, and her arms went around his waist and held him, and his arms held her, one hand stroking soft hair, holding her head against his shoulder, and he felt, just a little through the fabric of his shirt, her hot tears on his shoulder. "Never, never, never, never, never." Around the embracing couple, the crowd parted like a single river breaking into two different streams, to wind on two different paths after being together for so long. ********** In a form that was not hers, Kima of Mount Phoenix took the last step and stood again in the Heart of Jusendo, open to the air after thousands of years of being within a mountain. The mountain was shattered now, by the hands of he who was her king and the outsider. It was the afternoon now; it had been early morning when she'd descended into the underground caverns through which the groundwater vein that soured both the Phoenix Mountain spring and the springs at Jusenkyou flowed. In the sky, the high-swinging sun cast light among patches of shadow where it shone through the holes in the shattered mountainside. The shuffle of his feet accompanied by the click of his walking stick, Samofere came up behind her. The blue flame in the glass sphere on the end of the walking stick chose that moment to sputter and die. Kima reached up with a human hand, with fingers softer than the ones she was used to, and brushed at the dried tracks of tears there on one cheek. "Oh..." she said, as she stood in the light of the sun again after hours underground. "Oh, why, why..." "Because it had to be done," Samofere said. "Do you understand now, Kima?" "Yes," Kima said slowly, wanting more than anything to pour hot water on herself and feel the wind forced beneath her wings again, wanting to fly again above the mountains and forget what had been down there in the caverns, wanting not to understand anything beyond the pure, beauteous simplicity of flight. "Yes, I understand." There was a thunderous beat of wings, and a black shape fluttered down from where it had been perching on a rock spire a hundred feet above. Samofere held up his arm, and the bird perched upon it for a moment before dropping a piece of tightly-rolled parchment tied with string into Samofere's outstretched hand. "Thank you, Shiso," Samofere said to the bird. "Go and visit with your brother now. I will send for you shortly." The raven gave a bird's approximation of a nod, and flew away through the huge hole in the ceiling of the chamber, a shape so black as to seem almost a shadow against the bright blue sky. "What is that?" Kima asked, stepping up behind Samofere and looking over his shoulder as he untied the string and unrolled the parchment. "A message from an old friend," he said softly. "I think you met her when you were in Japan with Koruma and Masara. Her name is Khu Lon." "An old woman? One of the Joketsuzoku?" Kima asked with a frown. "Yes," Samofere said. "She was an enemy there," Kima said. "She interfered with our business." "As did Ranma," Samofere said quietly. "The outsider is a different matter," Kima said stiffly. "You must stop thinking of him as that, Kima," Samofere said. "Or it may prove our undoing." Kima turned and headed away a few steps. "I will heat water to change back." Samofere sighed quietly and tucked the parchment away. "I will return the stone to the shape it held before." She heard him begin to sing softly as she began to build a fire to heat the kettle on. As before, when he'd made the steps appear, there was no sound beyond him singing, as thousands of tons of solid stone silently reshaped themselves in answer to Samofere's song. An incredible power, although taking so long to do that it was useless as a weapon. The fire lit, she put the small kettle on top of it. She sat down, feeling memories rise within her, the inexplicable, terrible sorrow that she'd carried within her since they came up from below. Finally, unable to contain it any longer, she put her face in the unfamiliar, soft human hands, and quietly let herself weep, as she had done in the caverns down below. As she expected she would do again before all this was done. ********** Later on, Ranma would reflect that it all really began to go downhill at lunchtime. It started when he tried to talk to Ukyou. She hadn't even glanced at him throughout the two morning classes, and when the lunch bell rang, she'd got up out of her seat quickly and exited the classroom. Akane had stuck around to talk to some of her friends, and Ranma had darted out of class, giving her a small smile that he didn't think she saw. He wove his way through the crowds of students in the halls until he found Ukyou taking a drink from a water fountain near one of the side doors. The tie on her ponytail was slightly loose, spreading chestnut hair across her back in a small cape as she bent over and drank. "Hey," he said quietly as he stepped up beside her. She glanced up and finished her drink quickly before standing upright and looking evenly back at him. "Hey," she said hesitantly. "How's Akane?" "She's fine," Ranma said. "Good," Ukyou said. "Uhh... Are you still mad at me?" Ranma shook his head. "Nahh. You helped Akane out yesterday. I... I kinda overreacted, ya know. Maybe I was a little harsh with you." "No, it's okay," Ukyou said. "I..." She trailed off slowly, bowing her head slightly and looking up at him, eyes veiled behind dark bangs and long lashes. "Look, can we talk somewhere?" Ranma said, trying to keep any discomfort from his voice. "I've got some stuff I gotta say to you." Ukyou raised her head, and her smile turned her face from cute to beautiful. "Great! Let's go." She stepped past him, ponytail swinging, and took his elbow in one hand, guiding him along beside her through the halls. "I didn't think you were gonna stay mad at me forever. Not at your cute fiancee." Ranma smiled uncomfortably as they walked. "Nahh." They stepped out the side doors, into the sunshine and fresh air. The grass of the athletic field had been freshly-cut this morning, and the distinctive smell of it filled the air as they stepped out onto the field and started towards a small grove of trees partially screened by bushes. Ranma winced inside; the spot was notorious around the school as a place where couples met to be alone. He glanced to Ukyou, and she smiled back at him. "This is private enough that no one should interrupt us," she said, sitting down under the shaded, leafy awning of one broad-trunked tree and patting the ground beside her. Ranma folded his legs under him as he sat, while Ukyou stretched hers out and crossed them at the ankles, supporting herself with her hands on the ground near her hips. "So, what do you want to talk to me about?" Ukyou asked, eyes brightly reflecting the smile on her face. Ranma inhaled, and explained as simply as he could. "Ucchan, last night my parents and Akane's dad talked to me about the engagement with Akane. I have to talk to them again tonight, and that's going to decide whether or not Akane and I continue to be engaged." Ukyou's smile didn't falter. She reached out and touched his hand. "Ranchan, that's wonderful!" "Uhh... it is?" Ranma said noncomprehendingly. "Of course! You can just tell them you don't want to be engaged to her anymore!" Ukyou said. "Then they'll be nothing in our way. That Shampoo didn't know what she was talking about!" Ranma looked at her, and realized that there was a small pounding sensation in his head. "Ucchan," he said as gently as he could. "You don't understand." Her smile trembled slightly. "Of course I understand. My... my dream's finally come true. I..." "No," Ranma said slowly. "No, that's not it Ucchan, that's not it at..." It happened so suddenly, he could have done nothing to prevent it. Her hand was behind his neck, a gentle but firm pressure, warm, slim fingers tickling the hairs at the base of his pigtail. And his head was drawn down to hers, and her warm lips were on his, and what he saw before he closed his eyes instinctively was Ukyou's eyes, blurred by tears. It was only a second, and at first he did not know what to do, because it felt good, and her lips were soft. But then he realized just what it was they were doing, and he pulled himself away from her, put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. "What are you doing?" he said in a shocked voice. "I love you," she said. "Ranchan, I love you. You said you'd take care of me forever, your father said you'd marry me, you said I was cute..." She grabbed him by the shoulders. "Was it all a lie?" she asked, so quietly it was almost only the movement of her lips. "The first were the words of a child," Ranma said gently, his heart agonized and his head throbbing. "The second were the words of a man without honour." He smiled, sadly, looking at her shocked face and tear-filled eyes. "The third was true. You are cute. But... I don't love you." The sound of her slap was thunderous, and there was another sound overlaying it, a crack of wood breaking as one of the trees was snapped in half and fell. Neither one of them noticed it. "YOU LIED TO ME!" Ukyou shouted. "You said you'd take care of me, you led me on, you let me... you let me... you let me fall in love with you all over again, and then you..." She pulled back a hand again, and Ranma sat there, one side of his face stinging, and was ready to take it again, because he knew he deserved it. Someone caught her hand from behind, grabbed her wrist in a grip that was gentle, but as firm as steel, held her arm back with a strength that was strong beyond measure. "You can have him when I'm done with him." And Ryoga stepped past Ukyou, worn boots scuffing the grass, and grabbed Ranma by the collar. "RANMA!" "Hey Ryoga," Ranma said. "How dare you?" Ryoga hissed. "How dare you, after you nearly marry Akane, how dare you spend this time consorting with another woman?" "It wasn't like that," Ranma protested. "She kissed me! Tell him, Ucchan." Ukyou glared back at him and turned her head away without a word, hair hiding her face as she made a silent dismissal of him and left him to Ryoga. Ryoga's face was livid, contorted into an expression of raw fury. "You led them on... Akane, Shampoo... You led them on and then you..." "That's not true," Ranma protested, but he heard the doubt in his own voice. "I don't mean to, it just kinda..." Ryoga's free hand, balled into a fist, came forward, and Ranma threw himself downward, tearing his collar free from Ryoga's grip and rolling to the side, as the punch cracked the tree behind where he had been in half. That could have been my head, Ranma thought, as the sound of the wood splintering drove into his headache. It pulsed and burned in the back of his mind, a pounding like a taiko drum, like the fall of steady drops of rain on a tin roof, like the rhthym of marching footsteps, like the scorching hiss of molten metal dripping into water. And as that thought came, the thought that Ryoga's single punch could have killed him, he felt the fire freeze and turn to ice, and the ice burned as well, a cold burning, firing his nerves and reflexes to overdrive, and it seemed as if he could see, actually see, every movement of muscle in Ryoga's back and legs as the other boy turned, so slowly was he moving. One. Leg came out, low and fast and hard, snapping Ryoga's feet out from under him. Two. Get purchase, bring the other leg around, supporting himself with the first leg, and catch Ryoga in the ribs as he fell. It felt like kicking a wall, only more painful. Three. Hands came up now, into fists, looking like blurs even in this strange slow motion world he'd entered. Ryoga was still falling, and he was raining punches on his arms and body and face, a hundred of them, two hundred of them. And then the ice shattered, fell away like a mask, and things went back to normal speed, and Ryoga was a half-dozen feet away, raising himself already up from the ground. Ukyou's face was shocked, turned back now to see the fight. It had taken, perhaps, a little more than three seconds. "I'm going to kill you," Ryoga said, rising up with utter seriousness in his voice. He wiped a thin trickle of blood from the side of his mouth where his lip had been split, and despite his legendary toughness, Ranma could see he was holding one hand to his left side in obvious pain. "I don't care how fast you've gotten, I'm going to break your damn head open." "I can beat you," Ranma said, knowing it was true. Knowing that it would be easy, even though Ryoga was stronger and tougher, because he could move so fast that the other boy would not be able to touch him, he could wear him down like water over rock. "Not this time," Ryoga said. "Not this time." He took a step to the side, past Ukyou a few feet, and grabbed his umbrella from where it rested against a tree. "I've had enough of you, Ranma. I've had enough of how you treat Akane, of how you treat Shampoo, of how..." His face tightened. "Of how it's so easy for you. They just seem to fall into your arms." "Ryoga," Ranma said. "What about Akari? Why do we need to fight?" "Akari?" Ryoga said, as if the name were an alien thing. "She..." "She loves you," Ranma said softly. "She loves me because I beat her pig," Ryoga said. He pointed the umbrella forward. "I don't want to talk about Akari right now, Ranma. This is the end to this feud, Ranma. I'm not holding back anymore. Not after seeing you behave this way with another woman after you were practically married to Akane. Even if not for my sake, for hers. For this final insult to her honour that I will not allow to go unpunished. One way or another, this is going to be over." Ukyou stood up, stepped between them, arms outstretched to her sides, a palm flat and held towards each of them. "No. Ryoga, it's true what he said. I kissed him, he didn't want to kiss me, he said he didn't love me, he lied to me, he..." There were tears streaming down her face, and Ranma saw Ryoga's face soften slightly. Then he sighed, and his eyes closed for a moment. "It doesn't matter what happened, Ukyou. It never really did, did it Ranma? This has never been about Akane, or Jusenkyou, or bread, or anything like that, has it?" Ryoga's eyes were sad in his hard, angry face, final realization sweeping over him. "It's just been about you and I, hasn't it? Not anything else. Just you and I. To see who the better is." There was a shift in Ryoga's stance, a difference in the grip of his umbrella. He would attack soon, because talk was done, because, Ranma realized, what was there left to say? He has a reach advantage, a part of him said in a cold voice. Let him go for you, sidestep, hit him in the joint of the elbow. Break the arm, he'll drop the weapon... His thoughts died, horror overwhelming them. What was he thinking? This was Ryoga. Ryoga, who was his rival, and his occasional ally, who'd protected him when his strength was gone, who had stood with him against how many different foes, against the Musk Dynasty, against Tarou, against others. This was Ryoga. Who was his friend. "No," Ranma said, shaking his head slowly. "Ryoga, it doesn't have to be this way." Ryoga shook his head in return, and spoke a moment later with a weariness that reached beyond simple exhaustion. "But it does." Ukyou turned her back to Ranma and stepped forward, putting one hand on Ryoga's shoulder and the other on his umbrella, forcing the tip down to point to the ground. "Ryoga, hon, listen to him, you guys don't need to fight. This is all my fault, I started this, please don't fight, he's right, it doesn't have to be this way..." Her voice was gentle, soothing, but Ryoga looked at her face and the tears in her eyes, and it was as if he were carved from stone. He reached out with one large hand, and he held Ukyou by the arm, and he moved her out of his way, as easily and gently as if she were a small child. "It's always been this way," he said softly, his words as heavy as a mountain. And then he was coming forward, and the fire was turning to ice again, and Ranma forced it to keep burning hot inside his head, though the pain was almost unbearable, and he stepped back from the swinging barrage of umbrella blows. In here, in the grove of trees, Ryoga had the advantage. In here, his maneuverability was restricted. He dodged, and behind him a tree had the branches of one side sheared off cleanly as if they'd been cut by a chainsaw. He stepped forward, and Ryoga drove him back with a swinging kick to his front arc, and the umbrella descended like a hammer, and the ground where Ranma had been was cratered and cracked when it came back up. The ice was still there, behind the wall of painful fire inside his head, and the temptation was to let it melt and smother the flames with cold, but he did not entirely know what would happen if he did that. And though he did not entirely know, he feared it. "STOP IT!" Ukyou yelled, but her voice seemed very, very far away from where he and Ryoga were, because his world was one of a single flame burning atop a wasteland of ice, and there was room here for only him and Ryoga. And then he felt the fire begin to die, and soon there would only be the ice, a cold embrace as deep as the night sky awaiting him, a jagged frozen sculpture whose heart he could not see. Time slowed, and the fire was weak flickering thing, a hot pain that he clung to, for it was as if he stood on the brink of an abyss, and below him loomed the dark. He clung to the pain as if it were the slender branch of a tree, the only thing between him and a long, long fall. And then he did the only thing he could, before the last of the fire died beneath that ice. He stopped moving. Stopped dodging. Time slowed... The umbrella came down, red bamboo catching the sun, metal rain-guard glinting, whistling through the air in a scream that was so high-pitched it was almost inaudible, Ryoga's knuckles white on the handle, and his eyes darker than night for a moment before they lightened with realization of what he was about to do. Time slowed, fragmented, and dissolved... In that strange, slowed, icy-frozen time, he saw Ryoga's shoulder and arm heave, strain, desperately change the direction of the swing, fighting against hundreds of pounds of pull and momentum. And it was a testament, both to Ryoga's strength of body and strength of heart, that the umbrella stopped dead a good three inches from Ranma's head. They stood there, a frozen tableaux, Ranma with his hands at his sides, Ryoga with his body straining forward, sweat beading his forehead, and the umbrella paused between them. The ice was gone. And so was the fire. There was only Ranma, and Ryoga, and the sun and the sky and the smell of fresh-cut grass. "Hey Ryoga..." Ranma said hesitantly. "Yeah?" Ryoga answered, licking his lips and sighing slightly. "HAPPO GO-EN SATSU!" And then there was nothing at all. ********** He came awake slowly, from dreams which he would have no memory of when he woke. He was in a bed, white sheets and white mattress. White seemed to be the general motif of the room; any space on which paint could be slapped was white, a white that seemed too bright, that hurt the eyes to look at. Behind the bed, the unshaded window let the sunlight cast itself across the too-white walls. The bed and the chair beside it were divided from the rest of the room by white curtains. "I see you're finally awake," a voice said. It was familiar, although it took him a moment to place it. "Nabiki?" Ranma croaked, surprised at how his voice sounded. "Give the man a prize," Nabiki said from where she sat in the chair next to him. There was a newspaper open in her hands, and her quick dark eyes peered over the top of the page at him. "What're you doing here?" "Aren't I allowed to have some concern for my future brother-in-law?" Nabiki said, folding the paper with a rustle and putting it on the floor beside her. Ranma gave her a flat, silent look. "Akane wanted to check on Ryoga, but she didn't want to leave you alone," Nabiki said with a slightly defeated sigh. "How much did you charge her?" Ranma groaned. "A freebie," Nabiki said softly, turning her head to one side so that he only saw her face in profile. "Hey, I've got something for you." "You've got something for me?" Ranma said incredulously. "What's that gonna cost me?" "Another freebie," Nabiki said. She leaned over in the chair, a few stray wisps of hair dangling over her ears and catching the sun in highlights of deep brown. Ranma pushed himself up to lean on his elbows and looked at her more closely. "There you go," Nabiki said as she straightened back up, laying a white-covered book in his lap. It was one of the wedding albums she'd put together, the ones she'd been selling two days ago. "I don't want it," Ranma said. "And I told you not to make any more of them." "I didn't," Nabiki said quietly, in a tone of voice softer than her normal one. "There's about a dozen more in a box here. I bought back as many as I could from people I sold them to before you showed up." Ranma blinked, a slow, surprised motion. "Why'd you do that?" Nabiki half-closed her eyes, and turned her head back to face him again. "Because I'm not made of stone, Ranma. I can understand when I might have gone a bit too far." Ranma gave her a slow nod, then smiled hesitantly. "Thanks." "No problem," Nabiki said. "Where's Akane?" "A few beds down, checking on Ryoga. Hinako-sensei gave the two of you a pretty serious energy drain." "Good thing too," Ranma said with a sigh. "We were really gonna go at it." "From what I hear, you guys had just stopped from really going at it," Nabiki said. "You stopped dodging all of a sudden, Saotome. You got a death wish or something? Ryoga could've really hurt you." "You almost sound as if you care," Ranma said. Nabiki stiffened. "Maybe I do." "Sorry," Ranma said a bit uncomfortably. "It's all right," Nabiki said. "I'll go get Akane, okay?" Ranma shook his head. "I'll get her myself." He sank back suddenly to lie on the pillow, surprised to find he had no strength. Nabiki smiled sardonically at him. "As I said, Hinako-sensei gave you two a pretty serious drain. I'll go get Akane." Nabiki stood up, and swept the white curtain aside for a moment as she stepped out into the main area of the school infirmary. Ranma lay back, and gazed up at the featureless white ceiling of the room, with its long banks of fluorescent lights. It all seemed too bright. When Nabiki returned a minute later, Akane was following behind her, hesitation written all over her body. "What happened?" she said to him immediately. "Neither Ryoga or Ukyou will really give me a straight story. Is it true you nearly got creamed with that umbrella of his because you just stopped moving all of a sudden?" Ranma nodded his head slowly. "Kinda," he said with a weak smile. "Are you insane?" Akane snapped. Nabiki smiled and slipped out. "I'll leave you two alone. I've got some business to attend to." "Are you insane?" Akane repeated, more gently this time. She took a seat in the chair beside the bed, rested one elbow on the edge of the bed. Ranma winced. "I think I might be." "Oh, Ranma, I'm sorry, I was just-" "It's all right," Ranma said slowly, reaching out and touching her hand. Her fingers closed around his, and did not let go. "What's wrong?" Akane said softly. "I'm scared of myself, Akane," Ranma said hesitantly. "I'm worried." "Why?" Akane said. He pushed himself up to lean against the metal headframe of the bed. "I'm worried I'm gonna hurt somebody." "Ranma, you..." Akane said. "You don't hurt people. That's not the kind of person you are." "It isn't?" Ranma said slowly. "No, it is. I hurt people, and it isn't always with my fists. I don't do it on purpose..." He struggled with the words, not sure how to put them. "But... just recently, it's like there's another part of me. A part that wasn't there before." Akane looked at him noncomprehendingly, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Sunlight played across her face, sparkled in her eyes and caught the colour of her hair. "What do you mean?" "It doesn't worry about hurting people," Ranma said. "It's not... cruel, or anything like that. It's like a machine, a part of me that just started coming out. Two days ago, when I got in that fight with Kuno, and today with Ryoga. It..." He shook his head slightly. "I'm gonna hurt somebody, Akane, if I don't get it under control. I..." He looked at her, into her dark eyes. "I might hurt you." Akane's face tightened, and she brought her other hand up and put it over his, holding his one hand between both of hers. "Ranma, in all the time I've known you, I've never, ever been truly afraid that you would hurt me." His face softened. "Akane..." Then his eyes snapped back, looking around on the walls for a clock. "What time is it?" "School's over in a few minutes," Akane said. "Why? Do you need to get home for something?" "Akane... you know what I asked you this morning on the way to school?" He saw her face go slightly flushed. "Yeah. What about it?" "There was kinda a reason for it..." And once it began, it did not stop. Not until he had told her everything from the meeting with their parents to his talk with Ukyou and his fight with Ryoga. There was only one thing he left out, and that was how Ukyou had kissed him, because he told himself Akane wouldn't have understood exactly what it had been. Not that he really did either. At the end, Akane looked at him, and there was silence between them for a few short seconds that seemed like minutes to him. Then, hesitantly, she spoke. "Do you... do you want to break it?" He looked up at her, at the vulnerability shining on her face, the secret heart he so seldom saw, and he put his hand over hers, and held both her hands in his. "Oh, Akane. Never. Never, never, never, never." Her eyes closed, dark lashes fluttering slightly, and her hands tightened on his. "Me too. Never." "Come on," Ranma said slowly, rising out of bed with careful footsteps. "Let's go tell them together." ********** Cologne watched Shiso fly away from where she stood on the roof, leaving the small box he'd brought in her hands. There was no time for conversation now; the streets were crowded with people, and a talking bird would have surely drawn attention, even atop a rooftop. His black form sped over the rooftops towards the harbour, and she saw how each strangely disjointed movement of his wings propelled him half a hundred feet, and it was only a few seconds before he was away and out of her sight. She'd closed the restaurant after lunch, sent Shampoo and Mousse on a long shopping trip for a list including several ingredients that didn't actually exist. That would keep them away long enough, she hoped. She went back down to the second floor of the Nekohanten, slowly advancing down the wooden hallway. Two shuffling steps, the click of staff on wood. She stepped through the open door of her room and swung it closed behind her with her staff. She was already packed; she'd packed last night, the bare essentials of what she would need, right after Shiso had come for the first time with Samofere's message. The small cloth bag lay on her bed. Cologne sat down at the desk, propped her staff against one side, and opened the box. A small vial of water and a long, handwritten note. She read the note first, and then read it again when she was done, scanning over and over the words written in Samofere's precise, neat hand. Then she put it aside and ran her withered, shrunken fingers through her long white hair. The length of it was the last remnant of her youth, the last memory of how she had once been. She took a piece of paper from the desk drawer, a pen from the jar in front of her. She dipped the pen in the open ink-pot, and stood there with it poised above the paper. she wrote. When she was finished, she read the note, then crumpled it up and left in on the desk. No hint. No explanation. That was the way it had to be. There could be no indication that there was anything beyond what there appeared to be. But oh, the price of it. "Oh, child," she whispered as she put Samofere's note and the crumpled note Shampoo would never read back in the box and picked up the vial. "Oh, child, one day may you find it in your heart to forgive what I must do." She shed her clothing, the shapeless green robe she wore, and tossed it in a crumpled heap upon the floor of the room. Then she uncorked the vial and upended it over her head. And she felt the change. Perspective warped, the blurring that had been at the edges of her vision for years vanished now, and all of her senses were sharpened beyond what she had thought possible. Stiffness and the lingering, eternal pain of old age disappeared, as her flesh shed itself of wrinkles and became clear and smooth, as her limbs expanded, as the thin stick-shape of her body grew curved and rounded in places. There were no mirrors in the room; she bore them only when she had to. But she knew what she looked like now; the image was ingrained in her mind a hundred thousand times over. A slim, shapely figure, athletic without being too muscular. A slender, well-formed and pretty face with big dark eyes. Hair long and silky and black as night. She walked slowly over to the closet, a strange lightness in her step after so many years of fighting the weakness of age, fighting it with every ounce of herself until she had overcome it. From behind her rack of similarly shapeless robes, she pulled out one far too large for the shape she had been before, a robe of green silk, close to translucency it was so fine. The sleeves and hem were a darker green than the rest of it, and tiny white flowers were embroidered there. She slid it over her head, and it fit her body like a glove, cloth caressing youthful skin like the familiar touch of an old lover. Then the black silk belt, tightened around her waist, with the rest of the robe going down to her ankles, slit up the sides from the bottom hem to a little above her knee to provide mobility. Over that she threw a cloak of pale grey, the fabric faded from age, but still without holes or tears. She gathered up her hair in one hand and pinned it back with a antique wooden and jade clip that had lain in one of the pockets of the cloak for decades now. She tugged the hood of the cloak up to hide her face; the overgarment fit as perfectly as the robe had. She glanced back, at the shapeless, thick robe on the ground behind her like a discarded skin. A staff that would not have served as more than a walking stick for her now lay nearby. "Water from the Spring of Drowned Young Girl," she whispered softly, voice gone from the creak of age to the light music of a girl of no more than eighteen years. "Taken from the Chisuiton of the Musk Dynasty." She crossed in one stride a section of floor that would have taken her five strides minutes earlier, and grabbed up the bag from the bed. Inside, the few treasures of the Joketsuzoku that she might need rattled together slightly. She'd left most of them behind in the closet; Shampoo would know what to do with them. She took the box from the desk and put it in the bag with the other objects. Then she slung the bag over her shoulder and went back to the closet. She had need of her stick no more, but there was still a need for a weapon. Leaning against the wall, seemingly forgotten, she found it. A long-handled rake, taller than she was, with the steel tines glittering sharply. The handle was heavy and worn smooth in places by countless hands. A weapon, not a tool, though a strange weapon; she'd used it as a girl, and as a woman until her hands had grown too withered and her height too small to wield it effectively. She took the rake out and looked at it with a strange, half-sad, half-amused smile. "I suppose then that I am the swine. Who then, is the monkey? Who the priest? And the dragon..." She rested the rake against her other shoulder, and headed out. Down the hallway, feeling for the first time in decades the incredible youthful ease of walking. Down the stairs, quickly, not with the scuttling quickness she'd had before, but with the quick, easy steps that came from being young, and in the prime of health. She could never hope for understanding for this, because if she were to explain her actions to anyone it would defeat the entire purpose of them. Not even forgiveness could be hoped for, if truth be told. There was little she had to hope for now, she realized. But she had known this day would come since she had gone down into the caverns under Jusendo with Samofere. She had known that one day, she would have to do this. It had been done before by her, or someone like her, and it would be done again. Not in the same way, or under the exact same circumstances, but it would be done. Destiny was like a boat in swift-flowing rapids. While you might change your course a little, you could never truly change the direction of your flow. What ocean her river ran to in the end, though, she didn't know yet. "Woodchips in the stream of time," she said softly, and she stepped out the door of the Nekohanten for the last time ever.