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 Shogakukan 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 33 : Songs of Life and Death

Therefore they shall do my will
To-day while I am master still,
And flesh and soul, now both are strong,
Shall hale the sullen slaves along

Before this fire of sense decay,
This smoke of thought blow clean away,
And leave with ancient night alone,
The stedfast and enduring bone.
-A.E. Housman

     There was something bothering him.  Nodoka couldn't pin down
precisely what it was.  Perhaps the way his eyes would never meet
hers as they talked, or how the sips he took of his tea were 
small and nervous.  There was light piano music playing from the
speakers, but he hadn't named the composer.  

     "What's wrong?" she asked finally, after the umpteenth 
uncomfortable pause in the conversation.  

     Taikazu shifted in his seat on the couch and brushed an
invisible speck of dust from his pants.  "Hmm?"

     "There's obviously something bothering you."  A warm herbal
taste spread through her mouth as she sipped tea from her cup.
"Is everything alright?"

     "Just a little distracted this afternoon, I suppose."  But
his mild laughter was unconvincing.  Almost immediately, he tried
to change the subject.  "It looks as if there will be rain this
evening."

     "There could be," she replied neutrally.  Rain made her
think of Ranma.  Then again, she reflected silently and with even
a small bitterness, little these days did not make her remember
her son in some way.

     "Perhaps we should go out for dinner some night."
     
     Nodoka frowned.  "I'm not sure that's..."
     
     He laughed, and it sounded more genuine this time.  "As
friends, Nodoka."

     A glance around the living room of his house took in again
the expensive furnishings and the unbelievably complex stereo
system.  "You've never told me what it is you do, Taikazu."

     He shrugged.  "I'm semi-retired.  Used to be much more
active in the business, but now I leave it to younger men.  They
still value me for my experience, so I'm still involved quite a
bit."

     "What business?"
     
     "Oh, a fair number of them," he said, seeming relieved that
the conversation had turned to other things.  "We've branched out
over the years into a lot of different things.  The real 
expansion began after the war ended."

     "Ahh." A subject such as this made her uncomfortable.  
Taikazu was old enough to have been a child during the war, while
her only clear memories were of the economic boom that had
followed.

     Taikazu opened his mouth, perhaps to make some response, but
the sound of the doorbell ringing cut him off.  He frowned, then
looked startled.  "Nodoka, forgive me.  I entirely forgot to tell
you that an associate of mine would be dropping by."  

     "That young doctor again?" Nodoka asked, hiding her 
distaste.

     Taikazu shook his head as he rose from his seat and headed
towards the front door.  "No."

     Good.  She wasn't very fond of Tofu, from what she'd seen of
him.  There was something odd about him that she didn't like, but
Soun seemed to think so highly of him that she had not said
anything.

     Taikazu returned a few moments later, his arm linked with 
that of a pale but striking young woman in a conservative grey
blouse and skirt.  Nodoka wondered for a moment why he led her,
and then realized that what she'd taken for dark sunglasses were 
opaque and that the woman was blind.

     "Nodoka, this is Yoko Kontongara," Taikazu said.  "Yoko,
Nodoka Saotome."

     "I am honoured to meet you at last," Yoko said, and bowed
slightly before she unlinked her arm from Taikazu's and sat down
on the couch.  

     Nodoka blinked.  The words were odd.  "I am pleased to meet
you too," she said guardedly.  There was something about the
woman that made Nodoka dislike her almost instantly, but she 
couldn't for the life of her say what it was.

     Taikazu sat down on the opposite end of the couch in 
silence.  He looked very uncomfortable, drumming his fingers on
the arm of the couch with dull thuds as he flicked his eyes from
one woman to another.

     Yoko raised a gloved hand and minutely adjusted the tight 
bun of her hair.  "In another situation, I would make meaningless 
conversation for a while, but time is regrettably short.  Honour 
to you, mother of Ranma Saotome.  I have waited for some time to 
meet you in person."

     Tingling apprehension crept on spindly legs up her spine and
neck.  "I am sorry," she said after a moment's gathering of
thoughts.  "Are you another acquaintance of my son's?"

     "Oh, yes," Yoko replied.  "Since he was very, very young."
     
     "Yoko..." Taikazu began.  Yoko turned her head slightly and
he went deadly silent.

     "Why not make some more tea, Taikazu," she said softly.  Her
voice was measured and precise.  "Wouldn't that be a good idea."

     Taikazu nodded tightly and rose on stiff legs to walk out of
the living room.  Yoko turned her attentions back to Nodoka and
steepled her fingers together with a slight smile.

     "Honour to you, mother," she said softly.  "You will come
with me now, won't you."

     Nodoka felt a full-body shiver ran through her.  Almost
without thinking, she began to open her mouth to say yes.  It
took conscious effort to change the words.  "No.  I think I will
be going home now."  It was rude, perhaps, but so was this woman
and there was something wrong about her.  Nodoka stood up, and
Yoko's smile decreased slightly.

     "Stop."
     
     Again, there was the arching tremble through her, the same
feeling that superstition said was the passage of feet over your
grave.  Nodoka fought rising panic and seemingly hesitant legs to
walk towards the front hall.

     "I said stop."
     
     This time, it was even easier to resist.  Hard to run in a
kimono, but now she ran all the same.  The front door would not
open, the handle and lock would not turn, and the blind woman's 
footsteps came from behind her.  

     "The bloodline runs thin but strong, I see," Yoko said 
quietly.  There was something almost like respect in her voice,
but an angry, brittle edge as well.  Not, Nodoka thought, a 
woman used to being thwarted.

     "Who are you?" Nodoka asked, making her voice as steady and
strong as she could.  She surprised herself - not a trace of the
fear she felt showed, as far as she could tell.

     "A mother like yourself," Yoko said after a moment's pause.
"Now," and she reached up and took off her glasses, "go to 
sleep."  Nodoka stared into what was underneath the glasses, and 
then promptly did just that.  

**********

     Akari stepped off the bus and walked quickly to Ryoga's
house.  Ever since he had left, she'd made a trip over here every
second day.  Her way of coping, she supposed.  Katsunikishi had 
been left back in his pen today - he was being trained for a 
tournament and the frequent trips into the unfamiliar city might 
have adversely affected his temperament.  

     Stepping from the tiny open-air porch into the front hall 
after unlocking the door, she slipped her shoes off and left them 
on the mat.  A sharp whistle as she walked into the hallway 
leading to the living room should have brought Shirokuro and the 
puppies running, but instead there was only a silence.

     Perhaps she took them out for a walk, Akari thought.  
Shirokuro was certainly the most independent animal she'd ever
known, but years of experience working on the farm had shown her
that even the most independent domesticated animal could grow
lonely.  

     "Shirokuro?" she called.  Once she got into the living room,
though, she realized why there had been no sign of the dogs.  The
puppies lay in a sleepy heap at the foot of the couch, and 
Shirokuro herself was curled on a cushion next to a slim woman
all in black who was slowly and methodically scratching her ears.
Shirokuro was breathing gently and occasionally letting out a low
sound of pleasure.

     Akari blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly.  "Are you 
part of Ryoga's family?"

     The woman rose, and shook her head.  Her long hair, done up
in a thick braid, bounced with the motion.  There was a mask,
such as she'd sometimes seen people wearing downtown when the air
pollution was particularly bad, covering the woman's nose and
mouth.  Or... something wrong.  A flicker, like a mote of light
in the heart of a gem.  The shadows stretched out strangely 
around the woman, pushing away or drawing closer with each step
she took towards Akari.  Flicker, and the woman's elegant dark
dress became strange and gloomy robes.  Play of light and shadow,
and the image wavered between light and dark.

     Akari took an unconscious step back.  The memory came all of
a sudden; tiny scars on Ryoga's face in the mark of four fingers, 
already healing and fading as he spoke to her days ago.  Yamiko.
For some reason, she remembered the name.

     The mask writhed in a way that suggested smiling.  A low,
grating laugh lacking almost any humanity emanated from Yamiko's 
throat.  Akari took another step back, and bumped into something 
that felt like a yielding sheet of winter ice.  Then Yamiko 
closed the distance between them with another step, and the 
shadows fell down like a veil all around them.

**********

     Water ran into the sink with a gentle trickle.  Light swept
through the polished metal of the kettle he held in his hands.  
Why was he here, he thought.  With a clatter, the kettle dropped
from his hands and hit the tile floor of the kitchen, sustaining
a large dent in the side.

     Taikazu blinked, and then memory came back through the fog
in a charge.  Not bothering to turn off the water or pick up the
kettle, he hurried back into the living room - Ravel played 
softly from the speakers - and from there to the front hall.  
Nodoka was crumpled on the floor before the door, and a tight 
fist clenched around his heart until he saw that she breathed.

     "Shouldn't you be making tea?"
     
     He turned slowly at Yoko's voice, and tried but failed to
meet her eyeless gaze.  "Tell me she will not be harmed."

     Hope sunk as Yoko shook her head.  "You know me better than
that, Taikazu.  It is not a promise I will make and keep."
     
     I will not let you see me weep, Yoko, he vowed silently,
though he wanted to do nothing more than that.  Why he felt the
need he did not know - he had done worse things in his service to
her than betrayal of a friend.

     "I suppose it is right to tell you," Yoko said.  "Your
grandson interfered earlier with us.  He will be dealt with."

     Pain and grief shot through him.  "Dealt with?" he asked
numbly.   
     
     No more, it seemed, was forthcoming.  "He killed eight men."
     
     Brave, Tatewaki, he thought with a bitter pride.  You were
always braver than me.  He had seen Yoko's ways of dealing with
men, and a part of him hoped that his grandson had simply died.

     "Go," he said, trying not to make it sound like a plea as he
turned away.  Let them end this soon, he thought, for I cannot
endure much more.

     "I warned you to keep him away from us," Yoko said with a
sympathy that was surely false.  Why would she not simply leave?  
"You cannot say I did not do that."

     A long silence fell in which there was no sound, not even
the common noises of the street.  When he looked back, they were
gone.

     We can only escape so far from the chains the past has
bound to us, he thought.  Eyes fixed on the closed door, he
cradled one arm with the other.  My daughter.  My grandchildren.

     I never wanted to be what I have become.  He told himself
that as he walked back into the living room and turned off the
Ravel.  Even for yakuza, I am without honour.

     There was nothing, he realized as he slumped down into the
couch, for them to threaten him with any longer.  That thought
was somehow liberating.

     In his bedroom, he picked up the phone and dialed 
Yoshiyuki's number.  The kobun answered on the second ring.  
"Sir?"

     "They've taken them, Yoshiyuki."
     
     A pause.  "I knew that would happen sooner or later."
     
     "Yes."
     
     "I liked our informant.  Smart girl."
     
     Not a bright man.  But loyal.  Young and ambitious.
     
     "In our deposit box at the Goju Street bank is a sealed 
cardboard box with my name on it.  It is all the information I 
have been able to obtain on them in the last twelve years.  I 
don't think they know it exists."

     "Yes, sir."
     
     "Make copies of it.  Distribute them - carefully - to the
heads of every organization."

     "Yes, sir."
     
     "Perhaps one day we will find a way to bring them down, and
we will be free again."

     "Yes, sir.  Is that all?"
     
     "Yes."
     
     Click.  He laid the phone down.  From the top shelf of his
bedroom closet, he took down the shoe box.  Returning to the 
living room he put the only recording he never listened to 
anymore, his daughter's graduation recital from the Tokyo 
Conservatory, on the stereo.  The audio quality was not good, and
there was a lot of background noise from the audience, but the 
playing shone through.
     
     There is nothing of mine for them to harm any longer, he
thought.  I am too old and too weak to fight them, but I need not
serve them any more.

     There was Bach first, the gentle opening aria of the 
Goldberg Variations.  A Chopin waltz.  A few short pieces by
Ravel and Debussy.  One of Lizst's pounding, virtuoso Hungarian
Rhapsodies.  Then, finally, the Moonlight - Beethoven, the one
she had always loved the best.

     When that finished at last, after eternity, the tears were
rolling silently down his face.  What we shape within the world
survives our passing, he thought.  The flesh departs, and yet we 
shall endure.

     What have I left, he wondered.  What is my legacy?

     The barrel of the gun tasted of metal and cordite.  For a
moment, he hesitated, and then he thought again, I need not serve
them any more.  A crack, like thunder.  The hiss of an empty
section of tape running down to the end.  The click as the player 
shut down.  Then, finally, silence.

**********

     It watched the two men approach the gates of the compound
walls with glistening yellow eyes.  They paused a dozen feet
away, the shorter one barring the other's path with his arm.

     "Wrong secluded ninja hideout?" the taller one asked
sarcastically.

     "Quiet, Pantyhose.  There's wards all over the place."
     
     The taller one's face grew dark and angry for a moment, and
it took a visible effort for him to calm himself.  "Magic?"

     The shorter man nodded.  "Magic.  I can break them, but..."
     
     It watched.  It was crow, rat, snake, worm, maggot.  It was 
spy, servant, extension of power.  It had been but one animal
before.  Now it was many.  Its mistress watched through its eyes.
She listened to the two men talk.  When she was sure, she broke
the wards.  Hako was strong, but not as strong as her.

     The short man blinked.  "They're gone."
     
     "Too convenient."
     
     "Much too convenient."
     
     "So what now, old man?"
     
     "We go inside."
     
     The taller one sneered.  "Just walk through the gate, then?"
     
     "Nope.  Go over the wall.  And remember, stealth is the key 
here."
     
     No longer required to watch, it slitherflapcrawled away into 
the shadows, to set other things into motion.
     
**********
     
     It was not a slow rise from unconsciousness.  Not that, no,
not the lazy realization of self and the fade of darkness from 
the mind.  This was a desperate gasp into waking, like a swimmer
whose head at last breaks the surface of dark water.  

     Ukyou tried to cough, but there was a gag in her mouth that
tasted of cotton and sweat.  Wherever she was, there was no 
light, and she lay on a smooth wooden floor.  Her hands were 
bound tightly behind her back.  From the feel of it, her ankles 
had been crossed, and ropes looped around them and tied off as 
well.

     Konatsu.  She had to get free.  That was not going to be
easy, however; Kenzan obviously knew how to tie knots.  Ukyou 
began to work at the ropes on her hands, ignoring how it chafed
her wrists.  If she could loosen them enough to work her fingers
with more agility, then maybe she could get free.

     After a few minutes of straining, she had worn her wrists
ragged against the rough rope.  The blood helped a little, she
found.  It made the motion easier.  Her fingers fumbled clumsily
with the knots.  Hopeless.  They were too tight. 

     Something skittering on tiny legs across the floor drew her
away from her efforts.  Mice.  Then, as her eyes adjusted to the
dim light, she saw the murky shape was too big.  A rat.  

     Ukyou tried to tell it to shoo, but, muffled by the gag, her
voice came out as nothing.  Rather than obey, the rodent moved 
closer.  Its yellow eyes shone dimly in the darkness.  "Go away," 
she mumbled around the gag.  This time, it obligingly moved out 
of her field of vision, but the sound of its feet on the
floorboards continued.  With a groan Ukyou managed to move
herself into a kneeling position, thought it hurt her bound legs 
to do so, and turned her head to look at it.  "I said shoo."

     The rat make a squeaky sound, almost a laugh, and moved 
again away from where she could make out its shadowed form.  
Ukyou thought it was gone until she felt something touch the back 
of her ankle.  An involuntary cry escaped her, and she 
ineffectually thrashed in her awkward bonds.  An angry hiss 
escaped the rat, and then nothing.

     Ukyou knelt in the darkness for a while.  Her shoulders and
legs were beginning to hurt from the strained positions they were
in, but that pain made her realize that her twisted knee was no
longer bothering her.  Again, she tried to loosen her bonds, but 
the stinging pain of her chafed and bloody wrists moving against 
the ropes made tears come into her eyes.  

     Small paws again moved across the floor, but this time there
was a bright red glow that showed the rat.  It was even bigger
than Ukyou had thought, and it gripped the shining thing in its
teeth.  With obvious wariness, it moved in front of her and
dropped the object on the floor before her.

     Ukyou stared at the band of bronze with the glowing red
stone.  Shampoo's ring.  Thought it had not, to Ukyou's memory, 
been glowing when she'd received it.
     
     "Who are you?" she tried to ask through the gag.
     
     The rat gazed at her with unblinking, beady black eyes, and 
preened a whisker with one paw.  Then it reared up unsteadily on 
its hind legs and gave the rodent approximation of a bow.  

     "Can you understand me?"
     
     The rat squeaked in a manner that completely failed to
communicate anything.  Then it started to move behind her again.
This time, Ukyou did nothing.  Again it touched her leg, and as
she waited, gnawing sounds began.  After a few minutes, the ropes
dropped free of her ankles.  Ukyou let out the breath she'd been
holding.  She clenched her teeth as it clambered up her leg and
rested little feet on her left buttock to work at the ropes on
her hands.  When she felt the quick tongue lap at the blood upon
her wrists, she almost gagged, but it was over sooner than she
expected; the rat jumped away, and her hands were free.  
Gratefully, she pulled off the gag and tossed it to the floor.

     "Thanks," she said, rubbing at her wrists and ankles
alternately as she stretched her aching limbs out while seated.
The rat squeaked softly, then disappeared into the darkness 
beyond the thin red light the ring cast.

     It was suspicious, of course, as had been getting her hands 
on what Happosai had given her earlier.  But in the face of Hako 
and Kenzan, she would take help from anywhere. 

     Happosai.  It had slipped her mind in her efforts to get
free.  How could he help her in time?  He was in China.  And what
time was it?  How many hours had passed since she'd been knocked
out.
     
     And, she thought as she rose how much time did she have?  
She picked up the ring and slipped it onto her finger, and had
almost reached for the doorknob before she paused.  There had to 
be guards out there.  It wouldn't do Konatsu any good if she 
simply got captured again.  A short search found the light 
switch, and once the room was illuminated by the single dusty 
bulb overhead, she turned to examine her surroundings.

     It appeared to be a storeroom.  Small, with a few high 
shelves and little else.  Most of the contents were junk - empty 
cardboard boxes, rusting sword hilts and otherwise - but a glint 
of polished metal caught her eye on the highest shelf on one 
wall, a good foot over her head.  When she reached up, her 
fingers closed around the familiar wrapped grip of her spatula.  
She pulled it down, and blinked.  It was whole.  Hako had slashed 
it into two pieces during their fight, and now it was whole.

     Ukyou shrugged.  In a situation such as this, she wasn't
about to look a gift horse in the mouth, no matter who it came
from.  Her leather bandolier of throwing spatulas didn't seem to
be there, but this was certainly more than she could have hoped
for.  

     She looked down at what she was wearing, and frowned.  The
kimono was light - for a kimono - but still not ideal for moving
quickly in or fighting.  After a moment of thought, she carefully
began to go to work on it with the sharp edge of her spatula.  
Too bad she had to do this, she thought with a faint grin.  It 
really was nice workmanship.

**********

     Tarou stalked along the peaked top of the gate as easily as
a cat.  Happosai led the way, easily as nimble, or even more so.
They crouched low, eyes searching the sprawling compound.

     "I don't understand," Happosai muttered.  "No guards.  But
with so much power..."

     "What power?" Tarou asked.
     
     Happosai paused in his creeping and looked back over his
shoulder at his coerced help.  "Some sort of ritual, I believe.
It's been going on for quite a few hours now.  There's a column
of energy, ki and... something else, running from the top of that
central building to deep underground.

     Tarou stifled a yawn.  He was exhausted, but there was no
way he going to show it to the old man.  Part of his training had 
been the ability to go for days on little or no sleep, but so
much flying with so little rest was taking its toll.  He felt a
dim pride, though - he had carried them from Jusenkyou to Japan
in half a day.  When he pushed himself, there was little living 
in the air that could match his speed.

     "She's here," Happosai said.  "I can't even get a vague
sense of her direction any longer.  I should be, but..."     

     "But what?"
     
     "Something's interfering.  Probably whatever ritual is being
done."

     "And this Ukyou, she's a part of it?"
     
     Happosai shook his head.  "No.  We need to get inside,
though.  I have a feeling she's there."  He dropped lightly to 
the grass.  Tarou followed him a moment later, and they moved 
like shadows towards one of the outlying buildings.

     I will get this over with, Tarou thought, and I will get the
Name.  After that, I will worry about anything else.  A vague
guilt had followed him since he'd agreed to help out Happosai. 
He told himself it wasn't just for the Name - that Ukyou, whoever
she was, needed help.  But he could not brush aside the selfish 
nature of his actions.  Perhaps he should have stayed.  And yet, 
something told him that this was the correct thing to do.  Not
simply for his own sake, but for everything.  Perhaps his role 
was here, and not at Jusenkyou.  
     
     Soundlessly, Happosai slid open the door, and the two of
them crept inside.  The hallways within the building were tall 
and narrow, and they passed by a number of doors without stopping
to check.  They turned a bend in the corridor, and passed through
a section of hallway where one side was entirely made up of 
glass-fronted doors.  It looked into a tree-filled garden where 
the leafy shadows swayed in the moonlight, and as they passed by, 
Tarou felt a cold shudder run inexplicably up his spine.

     Footsteps.  From up and to the left.  Tarou paused in his
walking as Happosai raised one hand in silence.

     "Back up," he whispered.  "Around the turn."
     
     They retreated on tiptoes back towards the bend in the
passageway, and snuck around the corner just as a red-clad
figure came into view up the hallway they'd been in moments
before.  

     Back pressed to the wall, Tarou risked a glance around the
corner with Happosai.  "That," he said in a low voice, "is the
stupidest weapon I've ever seen."

     A broad smile was plastered across Happosai's face as he
ignored Tarou completely and stepped back into sight.  "Sweet
Ukyou, it's such a delight to see you again."

     Tarou breathed a sigh of relief.  For a moment, he'd thought
the old fool was going to do something even stupider than usual.

     A half-dozen feet away, the girl with the ridiculous weapon
grinned wryly.  "Damn you, you old goat, you actually came."

     Happosai chuckled as he walked up to the girl.  "Did you
ever think I wouldn't?"  Tarou followed silently behind, taking 
her in with his eyes as he did.  The giant spatula was weird 
enough, but she looked to be wearing the slashed-up remains of
what had previously been a rather nice kimono.  Some kind of 
blade had been taken to the sleeves and lower portion of it, 
leaving her arms bare, and her legs below the knee.  Her hair was
tangled and messy, and there were smudges of dirt on her face.

     "Does he talk, or just stare?" Ukyou said, gesturing at him
with her weapon.  The original cheerfulness at Happosai's arrival
had gone entirely out of her face, and she looked edgy and
suspicious.

     "I talk," Tarou shot back.
     
     She looked away from him to Happosai.  "Who is he?"
     
     "A protege of mine," Happosai said.
     
     Tarou scowled.  "I am not your protege, old man."  He 
glanced back down the hallway.  "Can we get out of here?  I've
got a bad feeling..."
     
     "There's no guards," Ukyou said with a shake of her head.
"This place is deserted.  I don't know where they all went..."
For a moment, the hard mask cracked slightly, and she looked
worried and scared.  "We need to find Konatsu."
     
     Happosai nodded.  "Ukyou, Pantyhose.  Pantyhose, Ukyou.  Now
that you're introduced--"

     His voice cut off as Tarou grabbed him by the back of the
neck.  "That," he hissed, "is not my name.  Not anymore.  You
change it.  _Now_."  Ukyou's face showed no reaction to the name.
She must have been good at hiding disgust.

     Happosai slipped free as easily as if he were water.  "Your
name is changed when Ukyou and her friend are safe and we're far
from here."

     Ukyou mouthed his name silently to herself, and a quizzical
expression came onto her face.  Tarou swallowed the rage.  The
taste was bitter.  "I give you my word," he said.  "Change it 
now, and I'll help you until this is over."

     Happosai snorted.  "Your word?  That and a nickel will--"
     
     "Then maybe you don't want my help--"
     
     "Stop it."
     
     The two of them glanced to Ukyou.  She was staring at the
ground, the blade of her enormous spatula resting on the 
floorboards.  Both her hands held the wrapped grip tightly.  "I
am going to go and find Konatsu," she said, low and determined.
"You two can help, or you can stay here and fight.  I really 
don't care.  I've done everything up to here alone, and I'll keep
on that way if I have to."

     Tarou glared at Happosai.  Damn the old man.  Happosai 
needed him a lot more than he needed Happosai - to help them 
here, and maybe to get them out.  The cards were in his hand.  
If he forced the issue right now, he might just win through.  

     His eyes shifted to Ukyou's face.  It was controlled again,
but there was a silent desperation in her eyes, wordless and
deep.

     "Fine," Tarou said at last, and it was not so hard to give
in as he had thought.  "But when this is over, I get my new 
name."

     Ukyou opened her mouth as if a question were beginning.  
Then she closed it and shrugged.  "Whatever."

     "And I prefer to be called Tarou," he continued.  "That's
part of my name too."

     "Fine, Tarou," Ukyou agreed.  "Now can we hurry?"
     
     "Wait," Happosai mouthed softly.  His eyes were closed, his
arms limp at his sides.  "Wait."  It was as if his voice came
from a long way off to reach them, through an almost impossible
distance.

     Ukyou walked over to stand beside Tarou and indicated the
trance-like state with a nod of her head.  "What's wrong with 
him?"

     Tarou gave a broad shrug.  "What isn't?"
     
     To his surprise, she laughed softly.  A survivor, then, he
noted.  Despite the ragged appearance, she was still rather
pretty.  Cleaned up, she'd be even better.

     "Cave."
     
     In unison, they looked at Happosai.  His eyes were open, his
complexion pallid.  "Cave," he repeated.  "On the beach.  I saw
it when you called me, and now again.  Konatsu is in the caves
under this place."

     Ukyou frowned.  "Konatsu never said anything about..."
     
     "There are caves," Happosai said with surety.  "You and
Tarou go there."

     Tarou crossed his arms.  "And you?"
     
     Happosai wiped a hand across his receding hairline.  His
limp dark hair was damp and glistening with sweat.  "I'm staying
here.  There is a line of power like a pillar running from the
centre of this compound to deep below the earth.  The controller
of that power is at the top of it, and the focus is at the
bottom."

     "Hako," Ukyou murmured, "and Konatsu.  This is why she
needed him."

     "Doubtlessly so," Happosai said.  "I am going to disrupt the 
ceremony, and you two are going to rescue Konatsu.  Do you know 
how to get down to the beach?"

     Ukyou nodded.  "There's a natural walkway outside.  Come on,
Tarou."  She walked off without waiting to see if she was 
followed.

     "Pushy," Tarou said with a scowl, as he watched her turn the
corner.     
     
     "Yup," Happosai agreed.  "Cute, though."  His voice lost all
humour and became very quiet then.  "If anything happens to her,
I'm holding you responsible."
     
     "You would," Tarou said.  "Don't worry, old man.  I'll make
sure she's safe."  A pause.  "I want that new name, after all."

     "Wards broken," Happosai said, only half-speaking to Tarou.
"No guards.  I think there is something else at work here against
Kenzan."

     "We've got an ally, then?"
     
     "The enemy of your enemy is not necessarily your friend,"
Happosai said.  "Be careful."

     Tarou nodded and left without further speech.  He caught up
with Ukyou at the door that passed between inside and outside.
"Wait up."

     "Don't stay behind when I tell you we're going, then," she
snapped back.  Tarou opened his mouth to retort something, but a
shake of her head cut him off.  "I'm sorry," she said, her voice
softening.  "It's been a hard last few days.  I'm glad to have
your help, Tarou."
        
     Tarou nodded in silent acquiescence.  The night sky was full 
of winking stars as they stepped out onto the carefully-manicured 
grass of the compound.  Murky shadows swarmed all about them at 
the bare edges of the light from the lamps atop the walls.

     In silence they walked off towards the sheer drop-off of the
cliffs that ended the confines of the compound.  As Ukyou had 
said, there was a long, stepped walkway seemingly worn naturally 
out of the jutting face.  Below, beach-sand glimmered with a 
faint pearly luminescence in the moonlight.  

     "How'd you get involved with Happosai, anyway?" Ukyou asked
as they began to pick their way carefully down the walkway
towards the beach.

     "He ruined my life," Tarou said.  He tried to make it 
flippant and uncaring, but it came out bitter and cold.

     They put their feet on the sands and began to walk around in
search of the cave Happosai had told them would be there.  Sand
shifted under Tarou's slippered feet with each step.  The grains
were white and exceptionally fine.  They were also, he noted,
covered in footprints.

     He pointed them out to Ukyou, and they followed them to the
gaping cave in the base of one hundred-foot high cliff.  An 
ill-sorted collection of stalactites hanging from the lip of the
mouth gave the impression of a fanged maw.  Beyond the first few
steps, the inside was pitch black.

     "We need light," Ukyou murmured.
     
     Silently, Tarou pointed to the electric lantern that rested
by a lava formation just beyond the range of the lapping 
white-capped waves.  

     Ukyou frowned.  "I don't like this."
     
     "The old man said he thinks there's some other force at work
here," Tarou said as he picked the lantern up by the thin metal
handle and found the switch that sent its small bulb flaring
brightly to life.  "Against Kenzan, but not necessarily on our
side."

     She nodded and peered warily at the cave.  "That's what I've
been thinking.  I wish I knew what was going on."

     Tarou shrugged pragmatically.  "I used to.  Now, I don't
think I could ever figure out the whole big picture of this.  I'm
not a god."

     A rueful grin, tinged with sadness, came onto Ukyou's face 
as they entered the cave.  The sandy floor changed after the 
first dozen feet into a mix of earth and sand, then changed as 
they went deeper into the darkness into rough stone. "What we 
don't know, though, can certainly hurt us."  

     They reached a forked junction.  "So why don't you tell me 
how you ended up here?"
     
     "Long story," Ukyou said with a sigh.  "Long story."
     
     Tarou chuckled softly.  "I've heard that one before." But he  
did not press, and rather looked from one passageway to another.  
"Which one?"

     Ukyou cocked her head to one side, as if listening to
something.  "Left," she said at last, and Tarou saw then the
footprints in the dust upon the cave floor.  The lantern bobbed 
in his hand as they took the left-hand path.  A few rough 
crystals of quartz glistened in the scabrous dark stone of the
tunnels, and an oppressive weight of darkness and age seemed to
press about their thin circle of light.  
     
     "Happosai says the focus of power is underneath the central
building of the compound," Ukyou said.  "So this should be the
right way."  Now the cramped tunnels had changed from a natural
appearance to rough-carven, the stone floor from rock-strewn to
simply uneven and dusty.  A low sound like the wind began to make 
itself heard, and the occasional linger of something like a voice 
drifted by them as they walked, following the footprints in the 
dust.

**********

     Heart thudding in his chest, Happosai ascended the narrow
flight of stairs to the third floor of the central building.
The raw power that was steadily rising was oppressive as desert 
heat.  It made him feel as if he walked through a thickness in
the air, though his pace was as quick as usual.

     Two double doors stood at the top of the stairs.  Wooden and
thickly-banded with iron, they seemed to swim and blur before his
eyes.  Power clung thick to them, but beyond them would be even
worse.  There would be wards, of course.  Automatically, he 
reached out and searched for them with his own ki, and almost
scoffed.  They were strong, but poorly-constructed, as if done in
haste.  He searched, found the necessary thread, and plucked it
once.  The wards unravelled in seconds.

     When he pushed on one door to open it, he found it barred.
A tight grin came onto his face as he raised his hand.  The 
aura-burst smashed both doors into flinders, and he strode
through as the cloud of dust from the destruction settled to the
floor.  An impressive entrance, he thought with satisfaction.

     The third story, it appeared, was simply a huge training
hall.  The floor was made of long and evenly-cut boards of wood,
and wooden barriers and pillars of various heights were
scattered haphazardly around - he presumed they were for training
in climbing and stealth, essentials of the ninja arts.  Overhead, 
the inner section of the peaked roof had not been divided from 
the third floor by a ceiling, and a maze of beams gradually faded 
into shadow as the light from the track lighting on the walls 
became too diffuse to reach that high.

     There was a naked woman seated in the lotus position in the
middle of the training hall.  On either side of her, coals glowed
and smoked in iron braziers.

     Happosai blinked, fighting a century of ingrained lust.  The
power in the air was stifling - he felt as if he could not 
breathe.  The woman smoothly unfolded her legs and rose to her
feet, and he saw that beneath the sheen of sweat her body was
livid with crossroads of scar tissue.  

     She was beautiful, and so terrible, and he ached with
longing for her.  Eyes met his - dark, so dark.  Her hair
glistened, bone-white and highlighted with the glow from the
braziers.  The flow of the power in the room changed - without
the woman concentrating any longer, it maintained itself steadily
but did not grow.

     "Come to me," she whispered, and beckoned with a slim hand.
Without a conscious effort on his part, his legs shuffled 
forward.  The shape and proportions of her body were physically 
perfect, almost unnaturally so, and the maps of all her wounds 
were made for his fingers to trace.

     Had he been what he was only weeks earlier, he would have 
died then and there.  But youth had changed him, if only a 
little.  Yet it was enough - enough to see the glint of metal in
her hands as she came to him with her arms wide.  Enough to let
him shake off the trance and strike out, though the part of him
that longed to press his lips against those pale white lines 
wept, with a blow that would have destroyed her.  It did not 
land - the woman leapt sideways at the last moment, bounced off 
the top of a tall block of wood with a climbing ladder attached, 
and disappeared into the rafters overhead.

     Happosai shook his head.  The daze slowly left him, and he
was astonished at his own stupidity.  Enemy first, woman second,
he told himself.

     "Oldyoung man," a voice hissed from above.  He could not
pinpoint the location, for it seemed to come from everywhere.  
"You come here alone and challenge I, fool?"

     "I've come to stop this," he replied, drawing on his ki but
holding it within.  He could form his aura constructs in the 
blink of an eye if he was prepared.

     The voice overhead laughed.  "Oldyoung man, you are a 
greater fool than I thought.  There is no stopping I.  It is
finished already."  There came a sound like cloth shifting, as if
someone were pulling on a new set of clothes, and now he could 
hear that the voice came from directly overhead.  "I am Hako of 
Kenzan.  I do not know how you have gotten this far, but you will 
die here."  

     There was something wrong here, but Happosai could not think
of that for more than a moment; because now there was a blur of
crimson exploding from the rafters, and he could only ready 
himself for the coming battle.

**********

     "What is this place?"

     Tarou slowly turned in a circle, casting the light of the
lamp around the narrow chamber.  Perhaps twenty wide niches 
lined the walls of the long, smooth-floored passage.  He guessed
half of those held small rectangular boxes of iron, wrapped in 
chains and padlocked.  All but one of them were rusted to some 
degree, the ones closest to where they'd entered so badly that 
little of the original metal of chains or box could be seen.  "I 
don't know."  He frowned; there was a bad feeling to the place.  
"A burial chamber of some sort, I think."

     Ukyou shuddered.  A gust of cold wind came down from the 
passage ahead of them, and toyed with the tattered remains of the
kimono for a moment before disappearing.  "Figures they'd have
something like this under here."
     
     Shuffle.  Clump.
     
     Tarou's head jerked up to peer into the blackness that lay
beyond the radius of the light.  Shuffle, clump, again.  

     Ukyou pushed a leg back through the footprint-strewn dust
and brought her spatula up in a guard position.  Shuffle, clump.
Keeping his eyes on the passage from which the sounds came, Tarou
put the lantern in an empty niche and let himself flow into a
loose and easy stance.

     Shuffle.  Clump.
     
     "The boy is correct," someone called from just within the
darkness.  "Here is where what remains of the dead who were the 
heart of Kenzan lie."  The voice was soft and whispery, like 
fingers running through dry leaves, but it carried.

     Ukyou's eyes narrowed.  "Nenreiko," she said in a low voice.
     
     A plump woman in pale grey robes limped into the penumbra 
between the murky shadows and the edge of the light.  Her face
was bloody, yet serene and still.  "Ukyou."
     
     Tarou did not wait for anything more.  Ukyou might delay, 
but the way she had said the woman's name indicated an enemy, and
you did not wait in the face of an enemy.

     It took him an eyeblink to cross the distance between them,
his fists raised and ready to block or deliver a blow strong
enough to disable the woman in grey.  As he came within range,
close enough to meet her eyes with his, all the strength flowed 
from his body in an instant.  His legs tottered, his arms 
dropped limply to his sides.  Barely, he heard Ukyou cry out a 
warning that had been too late the moment he had taken his first 
step.

     Nenreiko smiled almost benevolently, like a mother at a
beloved but trying child, and slapped him across the face.  The
blow looked gentle, but it lifted him off his feet and laid him 
out a dozen feet away from her.  

     Ukyou looked down at him.  Through the ringing in his head, 
he heard her voice.  "I said, she's a lot more dangerous than she
looks."

     Nenreiko laughed softly as Tarou staggered to his feet.  His
strength had come back nearly as fast as it had left him, but the
lingering sting of the blow made him feel as if she'd broken his 
jaw.  "Idiot children," she said.  "Fuhaiko may have betrayed 
Hako and I, but if she thought that you could stop us, she was 
mistaken."

     "Whose blood is that on your face, Nenreiko?" Ukyou asked
softly.

     Almost unconsciously, Nenreiko wiped at the sticky mess on
her face; the dark bangs of her hair were wet with it as well.  
"Both of ours, I think.  She turned her vermin on me and fled 
somewhere into these caverns.  I was hunting for her when I came
upon you."

     Ukyou's grip tightened on her weapon.  "Where's Konatsu?"
     
     Nenreiko took a limping step closer.  Tarou watched her
warily, not stupid enough to try another frontal assault.  "It is
already almost too late for your friend.  You will not save him. 
I will see to that."

     Visible tension showed on Ukyou's face.  Not the sign of
someone with much experience in these things, Tarou noted.  "If I
have to go through you--"

     "Then you won't," Nenreiko interrupted.  "That one is ten 
times the warrior you are, and he cannot even come close to me."  
A hand raised, she took another shuffling step towards them.  
"Without the box, you will never succeed anyway.  Only it will
free your friend."  Ukyou and Tarou unconsciously took a step 
back as she trudged closer.  "And I have that.  Fuhaiko took the
others, but the box is mine."  Closer now, and again they 
retreated away.  

     For Tarou, it was impossible not to notice the supreme aura
of confidence and power that surrounded the woman.  It was not
the power of the Art - something else.  The might of the
otherworldly, the same as what had been upon Galm or Helubor.  Or
the dragon, for that matter.  He did not know how to fight
something like this.  Even if he had cold water, the caverns were
too cramped to fight in his cursed form.

     "How appropriate that you will die in a sepulchre," Nenreiko
said.  Tarou's thought raced.  He had gone weak perhaps a foot
before her.  The weakening had to be a conscious effort; he
remembered her eyes locking with his.

     "Get ready to back me up if you can," he murmured under his
breath to Ukyou.  Without waiting for a response, he darted
forward again.  At the last second, he spun to the right and
around Nenreiko's side.  A faint tingle coursed through his body, 
but that was all.  Pivoting on the ball of one foot with balletic
grace before she could turn, he side-kicked her below the short
ribs with the point of his foot.  Done right, it was a killing
blow, but he must not have done it right somehow, because 
Nenreiko simply let out a high-pitched shriek of pain and turned
with remarkable speed to look at him.

     Immediately, he felt his limbs grow heavy as stone.  It took
effort not to collapse on the spot.  With the last physical
strength that remained in the face of that terrible, humiliating
weakness, he threw himself backwards.  The return of vitality was
shockingly quick, and he nearly stumbled and fell.

     Weapon raised high, Ukyou loomed behind Nenreiko.  The flat
of the spatula rang like a bell as it crashed down on the back of
Nenreiko's head.  To Tarou's astonishment, the woman did not 
fall.  She reeled, stunned for a moment.  Ukyou pulled back for
another blow.  Nenreiko grabbed her wrist in a grip that looked
gentle, and Ukyou screamed and convulsed as if burned by fire.

     Tarou growled, deep and low and almost inaudible, and 
sprang.  Nenreiko flung Ukyou aside as he hit her in the kidneys.
Ukyou hit the wall with a cry.  Nenreiko dug her fingers into his
shoulders and needles beyond counting sunk deep into every inch
of his flesh.  He raged against the weakness he knew would come, 
denied it by sheer force of will, and smashed both his cupped 
palms into her jaw.  Teeth clicked together and he heard Nenreiko 
scream again.  A trickle of blood ran from her mouth.  Grey silk
was smooth and slippery under his fingers as he grabbed her by 
the collar of her robe and slammed her back against the wall.
Once, twice, again.

     "You're going to kill her!"
     
     Nenreiko slipped from his hands and to the floor.  He looked
back at Ukyou.  "So?"

     "You aren't any better than her if you do," Ukyou said
fiercely.  "She's unconscious.  That's enough."

     She was Ranma's fiancee once, Tarou remembered.  What would 
she think if he told her now what had become of her fiancee, what 
he had done?  That thought, of what the stupid arrogant 
womanizing femboy had become, gave him something that he might 
have called sadness.  No.  It was sadness.  He admitted that, and 
a little more of the great hate inside him died.

     "You're right," he said softly.  "It is enough.  Let's find
your friend."

     "Oh, gross," Ukyou said.  
     
     Tarou looked down and blinked.  "So that's why she limped."
     
     Nenreiko's left leg, revealed now by the disarray of the 
long skirts of her robe, appeared to be made out of solid black 
stone.  Tarou reached down and rapped it with his knuckles.  Hard 
and solid, it had a strange oily feeling to it.  

     Ukyou grimaced.  "Leave it alone.  I have to check her
pockets for the box."

     "Box?"
     
     Disgust still showing on her face, Ukyou knelt and began to 
search through the unconscious woman's pockets.  After a few
seconds, she smiled triumphantly and pulled forth a tiny box of
wood, the lid traced with patterns in ivory and jade and clasped 
with silver.  "And the third object is recovered."

     "And now the heroine can complete her journey and rescue her
captured prince," a pleasant and cultured voice said from one of
the niches.  Tarou and Ukyou turned.  A large rat regarded them
with unnaturally yellow eyes from a perch on the lip of one 
niche.  Its mouth did not move, but the voice spoke quite clearly 
inside their heads.  "You have served my purposes adequately, 
little girl.  Go and reclaim your friend.  I will deal with 
Nenreiko once you are gone."

     "Kill her, you mean," Ukyou said softly.  "That is what you
mean, isn't it, Fuhaiko?"     
     
     "Perhaps," replied the voice.  "You could stay here and
defend the life of a woman who would gladly kill you slowly and
painfully, or you can go and rescue your innocent friend before
Hako completes her ceremony and he cannot be saved."  As much as 
a rat could, this one grinned.
     
     Tarou saw to his relief that Ukyou didn't look at all torn.
She simply picked up her ridiculous weapon from where it had
fallen to the ground and began to walk away.  With a sigh, Tarou
grabbed the lamp from the niche, keeping his eyes on the rat at
all times.

     "Little worm says hello."
     
     He glared at the rat.  "Piss off, rodent."
     
     It leapt from the niche and skittered away into the 
darkness.  Perplexed and trying to figure out what it could have
meant, he followed Ukyou out of the sepulchre and deeper into the
tunnels.

**********

     Ratcrowsnakewormmaggot ran through the tunnels.  It could 
see in the dark as easily as if it were brightest day.  Mistress
had made it that way.  It loved Mistress and would serve her
until it died.  

     Mistress was waiting on the beach.  She stood away from the
water.  Mistress didn't like the water.  Mistress thought it was
too clean.

     Little Worm stood nearby.  It didn't like Little Worm.  It
was jealous of Little Worm.  Little Worm pretended to serve 
Mistress, but didn't love her like Ratcrowsnakewormmaggot did.
It would have killed Little Worm, but Mistress didn't want it to.

     Mistress reached out her hand and Ratcrowsnakewormmaggot
leapslithercrawled up her arm and perchclung to her thin
shoulder.     

     "Kuronuma, what an obedient servant you are," Mistress said.
Kuronuma was the name Mistress called it, but it always thought 
of itself as Ratcrowsnakewormmaggot.  "If only you were this 
loyal, Little Worm."  Mistress laughed.

     "I am much smarter, Carrion-Mistress," said Little Worm.  He
stirred his wings in the agitated way he had.  "Stupid things are
always the most loyal."  Ratcrowsnakewormmaggot wished it could 
kill Little Worm more than ever then.

     After the waves had lapped against the beach nearly one
hundred times, Dust Mother came out of the cave.  Dust Mother
was Ratcrowsnakewormmaggot's friend and Mistress's friend too.

     Mistress said, "You underestimated the boy."  Little Worm 
looked as if he wanted to say something, but didn't.  Mistress 
continued.  "You should have listened to Little Worm.  He was 
right."

     Dust Mother scowled.  "Right or wrong, it is done.  She has
the box again."

     Mistress laughed.  Ratcrowsnakewormmaggot tried to laugh
with her, but the little part of it that was human didn't know
how to laugh anymore.

**********

     Hako landed on the toes of one foot before him.  Slashed, 
spun away.  A returning blow rent the floorboards where she had 
been.  In a vaguely-human shape three times the height of a man, 
lucent red fires writhed and flickered around Happosai as he let 
the power of his ki come forth as solidified battle-aura.

     A dozen, two dozen flickers of steel filled the air between
them.  Happosai's arms blurred as he knocked the knives aside 
with the shroud of his ki.  They clattered and bounced across the
floor between them.

     In a series of bounding leaps almost too quick to follow, 
Hako ricocheted off the walls and floor of the dojo.  Blades 
screamed through the air.  They studded the wood of the training 
hall with hard sounds of impact as Happosai dodged.

     A serpentine bolt of power flew from his hand.  The long
tube-shaped bulbs of the lights on the walls exploded as Hako
twisted in the midst of one leap and bypassed it by a hair's
breadth.  Sparks flew like snowflakes, and shadows deepened
subtly.

     Oh, but she was fast.  As fast as he was at the very least,
no longer naked but clad in scarlet from head to toe.  And the
knives rained from her hands in glinting waves.  How she could
carry so many he did not know.

     In front of him again.  The weapon she wielded in her left
hand was a short ninja blade, honed to razor-fine sharpness.
She feinted, thrust for his stomach, stepped back as he launched
into a hail of counter blows that came close to touching her but
never did.  

     The sword became an edged blur in her hand, spinning in
deadly circles.  So intent was he on avoiding it that he almost
missed the glint of the knife she tried to slip into him with her
free hand.  It grazed his side, and left a long but shallow 
wound.  His hand thrust down and closed around her wrist like a 
vice; her fingers opened unconsciously and her shorter blade 
dropped to the floor.  Pulled off-balance, Hako's decapitating 
sword blow whipped over his ducked head.  

     She twisted in his grip.  His aura tried to close about her
like a fist about an insect, but she slid free and nearly took 
his left leg off at the knee with her sword.  A return side chop 
came close to breaking her elbow, but missed as she sidestepped.

     The stunningly fast snap-kick meant to break his neck drove
him to the defensive for a moment, and Hako dived away in a roll
from the close quarters and came up on one knee.  Knives flew
once, as distraction more than anything else, and then she was up
into the rafters again.

     Aura burned as it came back full force.  Beams cracked and
fell in the shadowy tangle above the dojo floor, as Happosai
launched a half-dozen bolts of raw ki that ripped through wood as
if through paper.  The floor shook with the impact as hundreds of
pounds of square-cut timber fell from above and crashed down upon
it.  Out of the corner of his eye, Happosai saw the braziers 
topple and fall, spraying red-hot coals across the floor.

     "Fool," Hako called from above.  "This is my home!  Do you
really think you can challenge me here?"  She laughed, cold and
cruel.  "Don't you understand?  It's already over!"  Her voice 
had shifted subtly, and again become unlocatable.  "The 
transition is ready.  Identity grows weaker.  Soon it will be
time for I to go."

     But now Happosai had moved, and could see the dim figure
crouched on her knees on a beam a hundred feet above his head.
Hako trembled as she talked, and the almost spasmodic movements
of her mouth did not seem to match up to the words she spoke.  As
he watched, she clutched at her stomach and looked as if she were
trying to cough up some obstruction in her throat.

     "Oldyoung man," the voice said.  "Do you see now?  Do you
understand?"     
     
     Happosai said nothing.  He simply raised an arm sheathed in
a gauntlet of shimmering power.  As the blast cracked the beam in 
half where Hako knelt, he heard that the screams came both from 
her and from somewhere else.

**********

     The lantern somehow seemed to have grown dimmer as they 
walked.  Tarou judged that they were almost directly under the
central building of the compound now, advancing now a high and
narrow passage.  Next to him, Ukyou looked as if she wanted to
collapse.  The box was clutched to her chest with one hand as
tightly as if she held a child, and her weapon left a trail in
the dust and occasionally grated irritatingly on the stone as it
dragged from her listless grip; once in a while, her lips moved
as if she were speaking, but no words that he could hear came 
forth.  A lot of the life had seemed to go out of her since the 
fight with Nenreiko.  Tarou himself didn't feel very well, and 
had started to wonder if there was some sort of lingering 
after-effect from the seeming temporary weakness that Nenreiko 
had inflicted on them.

     Thus, when the first of the smell began to hit him, it took
effort not to vomit.  Blood.  Sounds of gagging came from Ukyou
as she hunched over.

     "What is that?" she gasped as she straightened.  
     
     Tarou wished he knew.  "I have no idea."
     
     Ukyou's eyes widened and a deep fear crept onto her face.
"Konatsu."  She began to run, no weakness in her any more.  
Tarou kept up, the lantern swinging in his hand and making the
shadows spin wildly all about them.  The charnel odour grew only 
worse as they went, and once the passageway widened up and opened 
into the large square chamber, they saw why.

     The construction of the chamber was that of a perfect cube.  
Walls met floor and ceiling at precise ninety-degree angles.  The 
rock was black and oily and smooth, but was marred somewhat by 
the blood.  There was a lot of blood.  Tarou guessed at perhaps 
thirty bodies.  All women.  They wore red robes, and their 
throats had been cut.  From the knives still clutched in the 
hands of some, the wounds appeared to have been self-inflicted.

     They had died around the four tall iron pillars in the 
centre of the room.  The torch-light that lit the chamber turned 
the needle points of the pillars into glistening stars.  The 
blood had stopped unnaturally at the edge of the boundary formed 
by the pillars, leaving a diamond-shaped patch of smooth black 
clear amidst the red-soaked floor.
     
     A pretty dark-haired girl in the crimson uniform of a 
kunoichi lay on the floor in the centre of the pillars.  Arms 
held close to her sides, her chest slowly rose and fell as she
breathed the breath of sleep.  Flames of the torches tinted her
pale face in warm shades of gold.  

     Around the area within the pillars, a distortion in the air 
in the shape of an inverted funnel was barely visible.  It slowly 
spiralled, making the empty space ripple and swim as if with 
waves of heat.

     "Konatsu," Ukyou whispered.  "Is he..."
     
     Tarou blinked.  "He?"
     
     "Yeah."  A fierce gaze turned on him.  "You have a problem?"
     
     If he did, he was certainly not going to mention it.  Not
when she had a look like that on her face.  "What happened here?"

     Ukyou looked warily around at the bodies.  "I don't know.  
I think these women are members of Kenzan, but..."  She looked 
pale and slightly queasy, leaning on her spatula as if to keep 
herself upright.  Tarou didn't much like the sight either, but 
there was an odd sense of stillness to the tableaux of the bodies 
that made so much death less disturbing than it should have been.

     "Let's just get him out of there," Tarou muttered at last.
He walked up to the edge of the distortion, stepping gingerly 
over a body as he did.  Up close, it looked more like a 
slow-moving tornado, with tiny particles of reddish dust moving
upwards in the spiral.  Not dust, Tarou realized.  Flecks of
blood.

     "I don't think it's a good idea to touch it," Ukyou said
from behind him.  "Let me try."

     "Try what?"
     
     "I can slip my spatula under him if I'm careful and pull him
out."

     Tarou snorted.  "If it's not safe for us to touch it, how do
you know it's safe for him?"

     Ukyou's face fell, and she looked about at the dead bodies.  
A strange distance showed in her eyes, and Tarou realized that 
she was forcing down a part of herself to deal with this 
competently.  He recognized that easily; he'd done it often 
enough himself.

     "Look," he suggested, "push that thing through it and see
what happens."

     Ukyou poked hesitantly at the barrier with the flat end of
her spatula.  To Tarou's surprise, and obviously to hers, it
vanished like the last dying ripple of a stone dropped into a 
pond.  Immediately, the blood that had been pooled around it 
began to flow inside.  

     Konatsu's eyes snapped open, and he screamed.  His limbs
shot out as if steel rods had been driven through his bones for a
second, and then fell limp at his sides.  His eyes closed again,
and the scream became a soft, nearly inaudible breath that 
escaped his throat for but a second before silence.

     Ukyou dropped to her knees beside him, uncaring now of the
blood.  "Konatsu, wake up!"  Tangled hair whipped about as she
turned her head back to him with a panicked expression on her 
face.  "He isn't breathing!"

     Tarou knelt and put the lantern down to take Konatsu's wrist
between thumb and forefinger.  No pulse.  Out of the corner of 
his eye, he saw Ukyou fumbling open the catch of the small box.  
As the first hair-wide crack opened between lid and bottom, and 
he saw the barest line of what lay inside, he was in motion.  The 
box flew from Ukyou's hands across the room, and that saved their 
lives.  It turned over once is mid-air, falling completely open, 
and struck the floor with a resounding impact more like a bell 
than anything else

     Then there was a howling, a scream like the voices of wolves
carried upon the wind.  Cold travelled with it, and the 
lightlessness of a trench at the bottom of the sea.  Lying on its
side, the mouth of the box gaped and stretched, bulged and bent
out of shape as something that looked like an endless flow of 
shimmering oil began to seep out from within.  A low moaning and 
gibbering filled the air.  As it touched the floor, stone cracked 
and shuddered, and the darkness rose up in waves.

     Tarou grabbed the lantern back up with one hand, scooped the
limp form of Konatsu over his shoulder like a sack with the 
other, and burst into a run out the way they'd came with Ukyou 
close behind.  

     Quickening with each second, the living blackness rolled 
like a flood over the chamber.  The iron pillars tarnished, fell 
to rust, and collapsed into the consuming darkness in a second.  
The bodies of the sacrifices were taken too into the seething and 
gibbering thing that had come forth from the box, and borne along
within its dark tide.

     Tarou ran, breath coming hard and fast, retracing the route
they'd taken to get here in his mind.  Konatsu's hands slapped
against his back, and he almost dropped the lantern as they
wheeled around a corner.  Behind them, the sound of stone
collapsing and a hellish cacophony of sound followed.  Ukyou's 
spatula was slowing her down; even carrying Konatsu, Tarou had to 
pace himself not to outdistance her and leave her in the 
darkness.  He would have screamed at her to drop it, but somehow 
doubted she would.  

     They passed through the burial chamber, and Tarou noted that
Nenreiko's body was gone.  Hot in pursuit, the darkness swept
through moments after they did, and the sealed iron caskets fell
apart and gave up their contents to it.

     The entire cavern shook as they ran through a rough-hewn
passage.  They kept their footing as small stones rained down
around them, and a dozen steps behind the flowing devourer came.
It screamed and howled and laughed.  Blind.  Stupid.  Ancient.
Hungry.
     
     Tarou did the calculations quickly in his head.  The thing
was getting faster by the second, and at their current rate of
speed, it would catch them before they reached the exit.  If he
dropped Konatsu, left Ukyou behind...

     "Faster!" he shouted, putting on a burst of speed and
tightening his grip on both the lantern and Konatsu.  To his
relief, Ukyou matched his speed, though he could see the strain
it put upon her.  For some reason, she was fumbling with 
something on her left hand while trying to rest her spatula 
against her shoulder and run at the same time.  The tunnel
shuddered again.  Nothing could be seen but a solid wall of black
racing through the passageway after them, almost nipping at their
heels.  Vague, almost-recognizable shapes seemed to press against
it from behind; faces human and animal, limbs, other forms that 
he could not and would not begin to guess at the identity of for
fear of what it would mean to consider them even in memory.

     Something that shone like a star flew from Ukyou's hands and
into the mass of black.  It lapped inches from their feet like
waves on a beach, and Tarou heard a strangled sob of frustration
break from Ukyou's throat.  There was a roar and a muffled boom 
from behind them, and a sheet of white fire exploded at their 
backs.  Now there came the screams of a thousand throats, and 
cracks shining with a blinding radiance appeared in the mobile 
darkness.  It slowed, then stopped altogether.  They whipped in a 
sharp turn around a bend in the passageway, and Tarou almost 
cried out loud with joy as he smelt salt-sea breeze wafting down
the passageway and heard the harsh cries of seagulls.  The white 
sand of the beach glistened in the moonlight beyond the exit from 
the caverns.  Never had he seen a more beautiful sight.

     And then behind them, racing with renewed speed, the
impossible thing came on in a howling torrent.  It was tattered 
and flayed, and it burned and screamed as the white flames 
consumed it.  Such a horrible sentience to the thing.  Such a
hate, such a hunger.

     Sand flew up as their feet hit outside the cave, and they
threw themselves to the side as the darkness rushed out right
behind them.  It touched the sand, and some of it fell in a patch 
like spilled ink on a page as the rest of it vanished back into
the cave.  Under the light of the moon, the fires that burned on 
it seemed to grow in strength and intensity, and in seconds the
darkness and the flame were gone entirely.

     Tarou raised his head, spat out a mouthful of sand, and
stared back into the cave.  Nearby, the lantern chose that moment
to sputter and die.  By the light of the moon, he could see the
cave walls as far as he could see were worn smooth as glass.

     Next to him, Konatsu drew his first long, gasping breath.  
Ukyou scuttled over on her hands and knees and touched his face.  
There were tears in her eyes.

     "I think it's over," Tarou gasped.  Ukyou said nothing, only
moved Konatsu's head to rest in her lap and pushed his hair out
of his eyes.  Tarou felt vaguely annoyed at being ignored.  He 
had just probably saved both their lives, after all.  "I said, I 
think it's over."  The grating cry of a crow made him look up, 
and also proved him entirely wrong.

**********

     Happosai walked over to where Hako lay amidst the broken
beams.  She was clearly dying, and as he approached, she coughed
up a tide of black-tinged blood onto the floor.  One of her legs
had been pinned by a beam, and he could see the shocking white of
snapped bone.  Nearby, the coals of the brazier were cool and
dead upon the floor.  A tremor ran through the floorboards, as if
from some earthquake deep below, and the coals bounced and
scattered.

     Happosai knelt down beside the fallen leader of Kenzan.  
"It's over," he said, and knelt down by her.  Mentally, he added 
to the count.  The three men in Shanghai when he was young and 
foolish that he always regretted.  The one in Tokyo in the years 
after the war, who he hadn't - no one should do those kinds of 
things to children and live.  Ranshao, who by the time Happosai 
had killed him had been barely even human anymore.
     
     Now Hako of Kenzan.  A woman.  
     
     Her eyes met his.  "Mother?" she whispered.
     
     Happosai shook his head, feeling an almost unbearable weight
of grief settle onto him.  Did every life, no matter how 
befouled, end like this?  He thought of all the things he knew
about Kenzan, about what they'd done over the last century, and
he found that even then he could not hate Hako in this moment.

     "I couldn't help it, Mother.  It gets into the bone.  Into
the bone, and it stays.  It makes you do things until you become
it."  Hako's eyes held a shimmer like tears, but no pain.  "I'm
sorry.  The flesh is so weak.  The blood is so weak.  Bone is so
strong."  Happosai stared.  Hako's eyes were a light green.  
Before, they'd been nearly black.
     
     "Free."  It was almost inaudible, but filled with joy.  A
last long breath was drawn, and her eyes closed.
     
     Happosai swore, leapt to his feet, and ran.
     
**********

     A lean figure rose up from where she sat upon the sand near
the cliffs.  On her feet, she was taller than most men.  Gaunt
limbs were draped in tattered silks of a dark yellow-green, and 
lank black hair waved about the woman's bony face in the wind
blowing off the ocean.  The crow on her shoulder called again.  
It had the same yellow eyes as the rat in the sepulchre.

     Tarou kicked himself up into a defensive stance.  "Great.
The vermin come out to play."  Something colder than ice struck
him in the back like a hammer, and knocked him sprawling to the
sand.  When he tried to move his legs and arms, they responded
slowly and weakly, and he felt as if some great chill hand was 
clenched about his body.

     "Very good, little worm," the skinny woman said.  "You're
useful for something after all."

     A hunched and winged shape landed in a crouch on the sand
near the woman.  "Hello again, you interfering little piece of
filth."  Xande chuckled dryly.  "And how is your friend Saotome?
Is his mind entirely gone yet?"

     A hand helped Tarou to his shaky legs.  Ukyou regarded him
almost accusingly, but with a glint of hope in her eyes.  "You
know Ranma?  When was the last time--"

     "Later," he said, and silently cursed.  All the exhaustion
of the last few days, the fight with Nenreiko, and now Xande's
attack had finally taken their toll.  He felt weak as a child and
weary as the dead.  Standing on his own two feet was an effort.
Fighting would seem an impossibility.  He would not, however, lean
on Ukyou for support; that he vowed.

     "I must thank you," the tall woman said with false grace.
Tarou assumed her to be Fuhaiko - she had the same voice as the
one that had spoken inside his head in the presence of the rat.
"You have behaved exactly as I expected you to.  I must say I did
not expect the ring to work quite so effectively, but once it
ceases to fear that you may have more of _that_ sort of thing at
your disposal, I expect it will spread into the stone and make a 
pleasant home in the caverns.  It fears all lights but the
smallest, you understand.  Moonlight will kill it in minutes, 
sunlight in seconds."

     Ukyou stepped forward, brandishing her spatula.  On the
ground behind her, Konatsu groaned softly.  "What is it?"

     "Consider that a human or animal is at its basest level of
a singular substance.  What I and my sisters call Living Dark 
could be thought of as composed entirely of the fundamental 
substance of nonexistence bound but barely into a physical shape.
Thus, it is most inimical to all things both living and 
otherwise."

     "But the box was supposed to..."
     
     Fuhaiko laughed.  "You stupid child.  You have been but a
pawn in this since the beginning.  But you are my pawn now, and
not Yoko's.  When I toss your body before her and tell the story,
and force her to take oath on your blood that she did not send 
you against Hako, the Circle will bow me to me."

     Tarou stared.  Connections began to be made in his mind from
what he had heard from Ranma and Kima days ago.  A glance at 
Ukyou made him think some similar process was occurring for her.  
"That's who you remind me of," she said.  "Those women on the 
mountain..."

     Fuhaiko snorted.  "Yamiko and Denkoko.  Fools both.  Unfit
as Hako to truly rule."

     "Gloating leads to failure," someone whispered.  "Just kill
them now, Fuhaiko."  Nenreiko limped across the sand and faced
Fuhaiko with Tarou and Ukyou between.  

     "Yes," Xande said.  "The boy is sneaky.  I'm surprised he
hasn't tried to dive into the ocean yet."

     That, Tarou thought, would have been a good idea.  In his
condition, though, he was fairly sure he wouldn't have made it.
Inside, he raged - a stupid pawn in this game whose rules he
didn't know was all he'd been.  On the sand, Konatsu groaned
again.

     "Very well," Fuhaiko said with a sigh.  She thrust her arm
upwards, and the yellow-eyed crow took wing into the air above
her head.  The beating of wings then was like thunderclaps, and
moon, stars and sky were blotted out entirely as hundreds of
crows streamed from where they must have been perched atop the
cliffs into the sky over the beach.  A darkness fell nearly as 
deep as the caves beneath the avian horde.  The only light was 
that provided by the reflection of moonlight and starlight off 
the water.  

     Konatsu rolled onto his stomach, and came up throwing.  The 
knife struck Fuhaiko in the shoulder, and her shriek was loud and 
high.  In the sky, the crows wheeled uncertainly, crashing into
each other.  Dozens of black-feathered shapes fell with broken 
wings to stain the beach and float upon the waters of the sea.
     
     Xande cried out and threw his wings forward.  Tarou shoved
Ukyou aside as he leapt, and the sand furrowed as the black wave
of power struck where they had stood.  Another knife sank into 
Fuhaiko's stomach after it flew from Konatsu's hand, and she 
doubled over with a gurgle and crumpled to the sand.  In the sky, 
the flock of crows was dispersing as rapidly as it had come.

     Shuffling footsteps made Tarou turn, and in a motion that
was almost instinctual, he scooped and hurled a handful of sand 
into Nenreiko's face from two feet away.  Fighting exhaustion as 
she automatically closed her eyes against the stinging grains, he
ran for the water.  Ten feet from the lapping waves, something 
that felt like a greased rope lashed around his ankle and tripped 
him.  Pain stabbed through his ribs as he landed badly on his 
side.  Another rope wrapped around his neck; he struggled, 
half-rose to his feet, and saw a child-sized shape writhing 
between rat and crow and worm and something else on the sand 
nearby.  The thin tentacles binding his neck and ankle grew from 
its back.

     An unfamiliar cry that must have been Konatsu's cut the air,
and he heard the hard sound of a body impacting with something
solid.  The tentacle tightened around his neck, and he yanked to
try and drag the thing close enough to kick at it.  It made a 
chittering hiss and simply backed away, the tentacle lengthening
from the malleable flesh-stuff of its body.  The stench of it was 
suffocating, blood and pus and something that had lain rotting in 
the dark and wet for a long, long time.

     A blinding flash of light turned night into crimson-tinged
day for a moment, and the thing cried out.  The tentacle went
limp, and Tarou felt a spray of some cold liquid hit his chest
and hands.  As he drew desperate gasps of air and struggled to
stand, he saw a dark shape speeding across the sand to Fuhaiko
and a severed ropey shape twitching near his feet.  The gaunt 
woman was on her knees clutching her stomach.  Konatsu was laid 
out on the ground below the cliffs, as Ukyou dodged frantically 
the aerial blasts of Xande.  Nenreiko was...

     A hand grabbed the back of his neck in a vicelike grip.
     
     "Whatever you do," Tarou gasped, "don't throw me in the
water."

     "I never intended to," Nenreiko whispered, and his nerves
caught fire.  He writhed, realized he was screaming.  Rusty 
knives carved his flesh to pieces.  Blunt needles sewed it back 
together.  Flame cauterized the wounds.

     Somehow, he got his feet up and kicked Nenreiko as hard as
he could in the stomach.  That wasn't hard, but it was enough to
break the grip.  Tarou scrambled on his hands and knees across 
the sand, towards the water.

     Nenreiko grabbed him by the leg, lifted him with a strength
she shouldn't have possessed, and hurled him a dozen feet back
with his arms pinwheeling madly.  All the air left him as he
struck the sand.  He couldn't make sense of the rest of the
battle - screams and lights filled the air.

     "Nenreiko, WE ARE LEAVING!" 
     
     In the air above, Fuhaiko was draped over the broad back of
a black-winged rat-thing the size of a horse.  As Tarou watched, 
lying on his back on the sand, a crackling bolt of red lightning 
flashed by her and struck the ocean with explosive force.
     
     A long tentacle flashed down from the mass of the monster's
body and wrapped around Nenreiko's wrist.  With a jerk, it
lifted her into the air and atop the back of the mount.  There
was the sound of battle cries from nearby, an old man's - 
Xande's - and someone else's.  Happosai, Tarou realized.  He
_would_ end up getting saved by him, wouldn't he?  What a sense
of humour the gods have, Tarou thought.  Then he passed finally
into unconsciousness.

**********

     The crackling of a fire was the first thing Konatsu heard as
he awoke.  He was lying on his back on the beach.  All he could
remember was fighting with Hako near the cliffs.  It was night
now, and the sky was filled with stars.

     There was a campfire nearby, fed by driftwood whose salty
burning turned the flames unfamiliar and beautiful colours.  
Ukyou sat cross-legged near it.  The tears that glistened on her 
cheeks caught the light of the fire, and it seemed to him for a
moment as if sparkling jewels fell from eyes.

     "Ukyou?" he asked softly.
     
     She turned her head to look at him, and gulped.  "So you're
awake."  Konatsu saw someone else on the other side of the fire,
a dim shape covered by a blanket.  "That's good."

     He sat up.  His body didn't seem to respond as well as it
should have; nothing went in the right direction unless he 
thought about it.  "Why are you crying?"
     
     "Because I'm glad you're okay," Ukyou said.  But she could
not meet his eyes.

     "Is that all?"  His voice sounded odd to him.  He couldn't
remember how it was supposed to sound.       
     
     Ukyou shook her head and looked away from him into the fire.
     
     "I can explain," said an unfamiliar voice.  "Come with me."
     
     He looked up at the short man who had come silently to stand
nearby.  "But Ukyou..."
     
     "I've already explained it to her," the man said shortly.
"Now come."

     They walked a short distance away, and the man sat down on
the sand near the ocean.  Waves lapped at his bare feet.  "I'm
Happosai.  We met before, but not in these shapes."

     Konatsu nodded.  He was too confused to argue anyway.
     
     "Sit down."
     
     Sand shifted as he did.  A mild tremor ran through his leg,
and he pursed his lips worriedly.  The waves rolled slowly in,
and broke upon damp beach.

     "I'm no good at these things, so I'll just tell you," 
Happosai said.  His tone matched his face - carefully composed.
"Hako's dead."

     "Good," Konatsu said.
     
     Happosai winced.  "There has long been rumoured to be a
technique of preserving the soul beyond the death of the body.  A
dark thing, legend only, mentioned in the most ancient texts of
the Art but never described.  Under the right conditions - a
certain time, bloodline, mentality, and otherwise - the spirit 
may pass from one body to the next."
     
     Dread came creeping slowly at first, and then rose like a
river overflowing its banks.  The pieces fell together so easily
Konatsu wondered why he had not seen them before.  Why Hako had
needed him so badly.  Why she had been so enraged when Fuhaiko 
had injured him.

     Happosai continued.  "I think that whatever Hako may have
said, my actions and those of Ukyou disrupted things before they 
could be entirely completed."

     "So it's okay then, right?"  Konatsu waited, but there was
no response.  His voice was high, verging on hysteria.  "I'm 
fine, aren't I?"  His hand, as if of its own volition, seized 
Happosai by the neck of his shirt.  "I'm all right?"

     Happosai gently moved his hand away.  "No.  You're not."
     
     Konatsu's hand twitched.  This time, there was no mistaking
that the motion was not desired.  The fingers curled into talons
and uncurled without him even thinking of it.

     "Your aura is still mostly your own," Happosai said.  "But
there's a black spot in the centre.  A spiritual cancer, of 
sorts.  I believe that is Hako's spirit, if Hako is its real 
name."

     "Real name?"
     
     Happosai lifted a handful of sand and let the grains run
through his fingers.  They sparkled in the moonlight as they 
fell.  "I think it is very old.  It has likely used the line of 
your family for a very long time.  I suspect Hako is your 
great-grandmother or otherwise a direct blood relation.  Once 
every century or so, as the time grows right and the old body
grows weak, a child is born with the right characteristics to be
a host for the spirit of the thing.  I suspect it is easiest when 
it is a woman for some reason, which is why you were raised as 
you were."

     Konatsu shuddered and twisted his fingers together.  "Is 
there a cure?"

     "I don't know," Happosai admitted.  "Perhaps the Joketsuzoku
would - their arts are among the oldest in the world.  I can 
think of no other place to look."

     "How long do I have?"
     
     "Like any sickness, it will grow worse as time goes on," 
Happosai said.  "Not long, though.  Weeks, perhaps months, before
your own mind becomes entirely like that of Hako.  A long period 
of slow degeneration before that."

     A grim resolve filled Konatsu.  "I'll die first."
     
     "Yes, you will," Happosai said, and it was not only an
affirmation but also a promise.  "And it will finally die with 
you then, I hope, if it must come to that."

     "You told Ukyou?"
     
     "I told her that your aura showed you were slowly dying,
that Hako's ceremony had been to control your mind but that it
had failed and was killing you.  Nothing more than that.  If you
tell her more, it is your choice."

     Konatsu nodded.  "I should, but..."  
     
     "I guess that you are safe for at least a week," Happosai 
said.  "There will be urges, if you are greatly stressed.  But
those will be easily overcome if you are willing.  And perhaps a
cure can be found, or a method of delaying."

     Hope, then.  There was that.  And Ukyou.  But he would not
hurt her.  No matter what, he would not allow himself to do that.
If the urge, even the urge, came upon him, he would make his end
be swift and sure.

     "I'm going to go back and talk to Ukyou," he said as he
stood.  Happosai had no reply, but continued to stare out onto 
the surging of the ocean.  Konatsu began to walk back towards the
distant light of the campfire and Ukyou.  Now he saw that every
few feet along the shoreline, a dead black bird was being slowly 
washed over and over again by the waves, as the tides worked to
draw it down into the sea.

**********

     Tarou woke up next to the ashes of a dead camp fire.  In the
hazy light of dawn, the white sand of the beach was painted with
a shifting weave of colours, and the cloud banks in the sky were
rosy-hued as they drifted overhead.
     
     "Awake at last."
     
     He sat up to regard Happosai.  Sleep had done him good.  
Few aches, pains or signs of exhaustion remained.  He had always
been a fast healer.  That had served him well in childhood.

     "Where's Ukyou and her friend?" he asked.
     
     "They went for a walk a little while ago," Happosai replied.
He sat atop a large trunk such as might be used to store
clothing.  "When they get back, we'll head for Jusenkyou."

     Tarou nodded.  "What's in there?"
     
     "Everything of possible use that I could salvage from 
Kenzan's headquarters.  Books, items that might be enchanted, and
such.  I'm going to burn it to the ground before we leave.  
There's a lot of evil in that place."

     A light chuckle came from Tarou.  "Better to burn the 
caves."

     "Stone doesn't burn," Happosai replied.  "And whatever was
unleashed under there will disappear soon, with luck.  Such 
things as it were not meant to long exist within this world."

     Tarou rose to his feet and stretched, working out the kinks
that a night sleeping on the sand had put into his arms and legs.
"That's for sure."

     "Do you want your new name now?"
     
     Tarou almost laughed again, but stopped himself.  He had
forgotten all about it.  Somehow, that made him happy.  "Yeah."

     Happosai dipped his fingers in the ocean, and they came up
trailing clear drops of water.  He stepped up and traced Tarou's
forehead.  The water was cool and damp, not enough to make him
change.

     "I name you Tarou," Happosai said.  There was a slight grin
on his face, as if he expected protest.  Tarou gave none.  Kakkoi
Tarou he had wanted to be once, but now he had realized the 
truth.  A man was not defined by his name.  Tarou was good 
enough for now, good enough for ever.

**********

     Four left that morning across the Sea of Japan from the
white beach upon the shores of Okinawa.  Behind them, the 
buildings of the Kenzan compound sent columns of black smoke into 
the sky.  In the tunnels beneath the cliffs, the Living Dark 
spread itself through the caverns without realizing that it was 
slowly dying.  
     
     Three rode on one, who flew on wings by virtue of water's 
gift.  One bore a thing within his bones that might soon consume 
him.  One bore a grief for a reason that was partly correct, but 
not entirely.  One bore burdens that he had been unfit to bear 
before, that he worried he was unfit to bear now because of what
he had once been.  One bore less than he had before, but still 
had more to bear, for his part in this, random as it might be,
had yet to be entirely played.  Nor had the parts of the others.

     The wind picked up the ashes and blew them to the east.  
Through what is called chance by those who do not see the hand in 
it, a few of them came in time to mingle with the ashes of 
another place that burned the night before.  One was a place of 
light and love, one a place of darkness fouler than even those 
who knew some of the truths of its existence had guessed.  There 
would be more ashes before it ended.  More fires, and no doubt 
more bright lights going out into the darkness.

     But now the curtain drops here.  A few ashes drift off the
cliffs and fall to the beach below.  Now the wind carries them,
and grains of sand, and the bodies of black birds, to the edge of
the waters.  And water rolls over birds and sand and ash, and 
carries them all in.  Uncaring, neither wanted nor unwanted for 
there are no such divisions here, all are drawn at the last, into 
the last embrace of the all-accepting sea.