Sorry, guys.  My AOL account went AWOL yesterday, so I tried to send it 
through Juno.  Big mistake.  I won't repeat it.




Author's Note:  This is an idea.  This is only an idea.  If people like the 
idea, the idea will be continued.  However, this is only an idea that I've 
had floating around in my head for a little while.  You want the real 
meaning of this?  Fine; the feedback I receive will determine if theis fic 
gets written or not. Thank you.


Disclaimer:  DBZ does not belong to me.  If I claimed that it did, , then 
I'd be both a liar and a target for massive, painful, and expensive 
litigation.  Thus, I openly admit that it does not belong to me.  FUNimation 
owns it.  Go bother them about licensing.  Ranma belongs to Rumiko 
Takahashi, not me.  Go bother her about licensing.  I'm just borrowing 
everybody.

Flashfyre5 Presents
A Flaming Amarant Production
In association with Digital Wizardry Studios, Minnesota

Roshi's Story, Prelude: Wha-?  My Story?


*   *   *   *   *   *

    The Spirit looked around Mimir's Well, taking in the modest gathering of 
Gods, Demi-Gods, and Greater Spirits that had gathered to participate in the 
Second Bet.  Some timelines had already produced quite interesting results, 
even though the timeframe was only halfway gone.  Smiling, the Spirit 
approached Mimir's Well, where a small red fox and a black cat rested.
    "I'm here to make an entry," he stated flatly, his tail curling around 
his waist.  The fox raised his head and looked him over.  He wasn't 
particularly tall, standing at 5'8", but he was remarkable in almost every 
other way.  His most obvious trait was a mane of wild ebony hair that hung 
well past his waist.  His face was chiseled, as if from alabaster, and bore 
what seemed to be a semi-permanent sneer.  He was well muscled, and wore a 
heavy breastplate complete with groin, thigh, and shoulder guards.  Around 
his waist, wrapped like a belt, was a fuzzy, brown tail.  Floating over his 
head was a simple, golden ring.
    "Who're you?" Great Fox asked groggily.  This roused Toltiir, who merely 
looked the newcomer over, then went back to sleep.
    "My name's Raditz, and I'm here to make an entry," the man re-stated.  
Great Fox sniffed at his aura, then rested his head back on the ground.
    "You're not strong enough to be a Greater Spirit.  Go away," Great Fox 
commanded.  Raditz clenched his fists, one of which held a blue rubber 
ball.  The rubber squeaked, but he let up before it broke.  Suddenly, in an 
explosion of noise, wind, and light, his black hair suddenly turned blond, 
and his eyes blue.  A golden corona flared into existence around him, and he 
relaxed his grip on the rubber ball, lest he break it.  The noise and light 
had caught Great Fox's attention, and even Toltiir had chosen to crack an 
eye at the display of power.
    "How about now?" Raditz asked simply.  Great Fox looked at him for a 
while, then nodded.
    "Just as long as you don't make an apocalyptic timeline.  We have... 
another entry that's done that just fine," Great Fox warned.
    "Hey!" Shouted a silver robot from across the room, but he was ignored.
    "Fine, take all the fun out of it," Raditz sneered, smiling.  Great Fox 
hoped that he was joking.  Regardless, Raditz flew above Mimir's well, 
clutching the ball.
    "I already know what I want to do," he stated.  "Put the baseline on top 
of the well, like oil.  This ball represents my home timeline," he 
instructed.  Great Fox was skeptical, but complied.
    "Crossover or fusion?" Great Fox asked.
    "Crossover," Raditz answered.  "Hopefully, I can hit the bottom..."  
Mightily, he wound up, then hurled the ball into the well with all his 
might.  It disappeared beneath the surface with a great splash and 
disappeared from sight, as the future of the baseline was altered in small, 
yet significant ways.  Silently, Raditz waited, watching the pool intently.
    "That thing is bottomless, you know," Great Fox commented, hopping on 
to the lip of the well.
    "Nothing's bottomless," Raditz said.  "It's impossible.  Anybody'll tell 
you that."
    "And changing the course of history is possible?" Great Fox countered.  
Raditz, knowing better than to attack a God, held his temper and his 
retort.  Another tense minute passed, but Raditz didn't move an inch.  Great 
Fox, by now, had returned to sleep, but Toltiir had sat up, and was watching 
Raditz with interest.
    "What're you trying to do?" he asked.
    "I want to be able to claim to be the first being to do something I 
thought of a while ago.  Something that nobody's done, or even tried to do," 
Raditz said.
    "Meaning?" Toltiir prompted.
    "I want to change the course of a timeline in just the right areas so 
that it completely changes course, and joins another cluster," Raditz said, 
almost as if he'd rehearsed it.
    "You mean, you want to use a crossover to have the same effect as a 
fusion?" Toltiir asked.
    "Basically.  I looked at the baseline, and if I add a few people from my 
world and change one person's course in life, I think that I can relocate it 
to my home cluster," Raditz said.
    "Interesting.  Who're you adding?" Toltiir asked.
    "Goku, Piccolo, Kami, and a couple of others that just aren't native to 
the planet.  That's my big splash," Raditz said.  Suddenly, the rubber ball 
popped out of the well, ricocheted off the ceiling, and fell into Raditz's 
waiting hand.  Toltiir whistled, which was an impressive feat for a cat.
    "No many have been able to hit the bottom of Mimir's Well.  Nice arm," 
Toltiir commented.
    "I'm a Super Saiyan," Raditz stated simply.  Toltiir shook his head, 
smiling.
    "So, what did the other splash do?" he asked.
    "Changed one person's life.  Without him, Goku would've been killed, and 
Frieza would've eventually stumbled across, and destroyed, Earth," Raditz 
explained.
    "Like in the baseline," Toltiir nodded.  Then, he looked carefully at 
the pool, and the ripples that were coming from the splashes.  "Well," he 
decided.  "Whatever else happens, this should be interesting."

*   *   *   *   *   *

    "Kurillen, Eighteen, we're here!" Gohan called, his voice cracking just 
a hair.  At fifteen, the young man could hardly help it.  At his side, 
walking with a grace that few martial artists three times his age could 
muster, was Goten.  Behind them stood Chi Chi, a smile gracing her face as 
well.
    "Gohan, Chi Chi, great to see you!" Kurillen shouted, grabbing Gohan's 
hand in greeting.
    "Uncle Kurillen, Uncle Kurillen, I'm here too!" Goten said, patting 
Kurillen's thigh.  The short man let go of Gohan's hand and lifted Goten 
high over his head, the little five-year-old squealing all the way.
    "So you are, kiddo.  Wow, you've really grown," Kurillen said.
    "Three whole inches!" Goten bragged.  "Mama says that I've still got a 
lot to go, though."
    "It's good to see you, Kurillen," Chi Chi said, smiling.  
    Kurillen lowered Goten to rest in the crook of his arm and replied 
warmly, "It's good to see you too, Chi Chi.  It's been too long."
    "Since Goten was born," she agreed, as Gohan slipped by the two adults 
into the house.
    "I'm sorry.  It's just that, well, seeing you brings back a lot," 
Kurillen apologized, ashamed.
    "I'm just as guilty as you," Chi Chi disagreed.  "I've been avoiding 
you, because seeing you and the others remind me of Goku.  I still miss 
him..."
    "Me too," Kurillen agreed, and the two were silent for a moment.  Goten, 
deciding that there was probably more fun to be had inside, hopped out of 
Kurillen's arms and dashed inside.  "Let's... try not to avoid each other 
any more.  It makes me miss Goku to see you, but it brings back a lot of 
memories.  Good ones," Kurillen finally said.
    "I'd like that," Chi Chi agreed.  Suddenly, an exclamation from inside 
shattered the sad moment.
    "Wow!  Auntie Eighteen, you sure are big!" Gohan's astounded shout 
echoed.
    "Enough with this sad stuff!" Chi Chi exclaimed.  "Let's get to the real 
reason why I'm here."
    "Right this way," Kurillen directed.  "She's in the living room.  Want 
me to get those for you?"
    "No, I'm fine," Chi Chi said, picking up a pair of white paper bags.  
Together, she and Kurillen entered the house and made their way to the 
living room, where Gohan chatted with Eighteen and Goten rubbed her enormous 
belly, his eyes as big as saucers.  "There's the expectant mother!  When are 
you due again?" Chi Chi asked, smiling.
    "Not soon enough," Eighteen replied sardonically.  Even still, she too 
was smiling.
    "You say that, but you wouldn't give it up for the world," Chi Chi 
accused, and Eighteen just shook her head, smiling.
    "Two weeks," Eighteen said.
    "Huh?" Chi Chi asked, confused.
    "She's due in two weeks," Kurillen explained.
    "It's still kind of amazing that Eighteen can have kids, huh?" Gohan 
said.
    "Hey, kid, nobody was more surprised than I was when she told me," 
Kurillen exclaimed, and everybody except for Goten shared a laugh.  He was 
still engrossed with Eighteen's engorged stomach.
    "Kurillen?  Eighteen?  Master Roshi?  Anyone home?" Yamcha's voice 
called from the front door.
    "Come on in, we're in the living room!" Gohan called.  Footsteps 
approached, and soon Yamcha and Puar had joined the others in the living 
room.
    "Hi, guys.  Piccolo and Dedne couldn't make it, but they send their 
congratulations," Yamcha said, plopping a roughly wrapped box onto the 
coffee table.
    "Piccolo sends his congratulations?" Kurillen asked, holding back a 
laugh.
    "Fine, you win.  Dende sends his congratulations.  Piccolo was too busy 
meditating, but I'm sure he would've if he'd heard me," Yamcha admitted, 
provoking another laugh from all present.  Goten, though, just rubbed 
Eighteen's stomach.
    "Wow..." he murmured.
    "Like that, huh?" Eighteen asked.
    "Yeah.  It's really cool!" Goten agreed.  Eighteen's smile grew a 
fraction of an inch.
    "You know, Kurillen, this is probably the happiest that I've ever seen 
Eighteen," Gohan commented.
    "Yeah, me too," Kurillen agreed.  "Well, our wedding day came close, 
especially if you only count the night...," he said, provoking another round 
of laughter.
    "Huh?  What's he mean?" Goten asked, confused.
    "I dunno, Goten.  Probably an adult thing," Gohan said.
    "Enough of this," Eighteen said once she had stopped chuckling.  "This 
is a baby shower; let's get to the shower part!"

*** Three Hours Later***

    "I don't think I'll ever find a use for all of this," Eighteen finally 
declared.  Many drinks, all non-alcoholic, had been passed around as 
presents were opened and stories told.  Somewhere along the line, Master 
Roshi and Turtle had wandered in and had joined the festivities.
    "Just you wait," Chi Chi promised.  "By the time your baby's a month 
old, you'll wish that you'd have gotten more!"
    "I don't think we have room for more!" Kurillen declared, standing next 
to a freshly assembled crib that still smelled of varnish.  "Wow, Gohan, 
this is really something.  And you only used your hands?"
    "Well, I did use a sander to smooth it out," Gohan admitted.
    "That's incredible.  I don't think I could build a crib, even with power 
tools, and here goes Gohan, only using his hands," Kurillen said, shaking 
his head.  "You really are Goku's son, aren't you?"
    "I certainly hope so," Roshi interjected.  "It'd be awfully hard to 
explain his tail otherwise!"
    "That it would," Gohan agreed, laughing.  "Mom, have you been seeing 
anyone?"
    "Not on your life, mister," Chi Chi huffed, upset.  The amusement that 
had been spawned from Master Roshi's joke quickly died down.
    "Geez, Mom, I'm sorry," Gohan said, seeing how hurt his mother was.
    "Me too.  I should've known better," Roshi apologized, bowing his head.  
Chi Chi was silent for a moment, fuming.
    "All right, but I don't want to talk about Goku any more," Chi Chi 
sighed, a tear glistening in her eye.  "It makes me miss him too much."  
Nobody could think of anything to say after this.
    "Well," Kurillen finally said.  "We've opened the presents, we've told 
the stories.  I think that that's pretty much it."
    "Not quite," Eighteen said.  "There's still one story that I want to 
hear.  His."
    "Who?" Gohan asked.
    "Roshi.  I've never heard anything about his past.  I want to hear about 
how he got started," Eighteen explained.
    "Wha-?  My story?" Roshi stammered.
    "Come to think of it, neither have I," Kurillen said, cocking his head.
    "None of us have," Yamcha said.  "The first I heard about Master Roshi 
was when he and Goku first met."
    "Yeah," agreed Gohan, nodding his head.  He turned to look at Master 
Roshi, and the others soon followed suit.
    "Well?" Eighteen asked after a minute.
    "Well... are you sure you want to hear the story of some old, moldy 
martial artist?" Roshi asked, blushing faintly.
    "We asked, didn't we?" Eighteen said, her voice flat and pragmatic.
    "Don't have anything better to do for the next few hours," Kurillen 
agreed.
    "Well, in that case, I suggest that you all take a seat.  My story isn't 
exactly what you might call short," Roshi suggested, sitting down on a 
cushion and folding his legs underneath him.  Kurillen plopped down next to 
his wife on the couch, while Gohan and Yamcha decided to take up some wall 
space and a pair of pillows.  Chi Chi claimed the chair, but went to the 
kitchen to get some lemonade first.
    "Let's see... I guess that my journey down the path of martial arts 
began when I was sixteen.  Before then, I hadn't even considered being a 
warrior.  I wanted to be an painter, or some other such nonsense," Roshi 
began as Chi Chi re-entered the room, carrying a tray laden with lemonade.  
Silently, she passed a glass to each person present, then took the last and 
sat down.  "However, a young man moved into town and showed me just how 
wrong I was."
    "Who was he?" asked Goten, who had decided to sit on his mother's lap.
    "Well, I have to explain a few things before I really get started," 
Roshi said.  "First of all, I lived in Tokyo, the Nerima ward.  Second of 
all, I wasn't called Roshi back then, except by my closest friends.  My real 
name was Hiroshi Kibigami."
    "Your real name is Hiroshi?" Kurillen asked, surprised.
    "Not anymore.  I changed it when I came of age.  I thought of it as a 
symbolic start to the rest of my life," Roshi explained.  "Now, I had just 
recently turned sixteen when a martial artist came to town.  He was 
incredibly talented.  The only person that I know who's matched his ability 
to learn new techniques and just plain fight was Goku.  Of course, he was 
only human, so there's probably hardly any comparison anymore."
    "C'mon, tell us what his name was!" Gohan demanded.
    "Gohan, manners," Chi Chi reprimanded softly.
    "Yes, ma'am," he whispered.  Undisturbed, Roshi continued onward with 
his story.
    "His name was Ranma Saotome.  He'd been training since he could walk, 
and had more stubborn determination than most mules, a good number of 
mountains, and more than a few of Saiyans I've met," Roshi said.  "The day I 
first saw him fight... I'll never forget it..."

*   *   *   *   *   *

    "You think anybody'll beat Akane today?" Hiroshi asked.  He was an 
average looking young man, with a skinny, but unmuscled, build and dark hair 
that was already beginning to thin.  If asked, he'd furiously deny it, but 
there were far too much hair in the sink every morning for it to be any less 
than the truth.
    "Nah," Daisuke Iwata replied.  Daisuke was Hiroshi's best friend, and 
had been since before either of the two could remember.  He was a little 
taller then Hiroshi, and had a more muscular build, fractionally.  He had 
sandy brown hair and unusual, green eyes.  Hiroshi suspected that his mother 
had had an affair with an American G.I. after the War, but he didn't ask and 
Daisuke didn't tell.  "Kuno might, if he ever got over his 'go easy on her' 
kick."
    "Which he won't," Hiroshi added.  Daisuke nodded, and the two took up 
their usual places at the windows.  "Here she comes," he suddenly said, 
seeing the horde of lust-stricken young men gathered at the gates begin 
their morning charge.  Akane, a small blue figure, plowed into them, 
decimating the horde.  Meanwhile, a figure dressed in red and black hopped 
to the top of the school wall and watched. Soon, the boys of the horde were 
lying flat on their backs, or stomachs, whichever way Akane had hit them.  
The figure dressed in red hopped off of the wall and started to talk to 
Akane, but it soon became obvious that Kuno wasn't about to stand for that.
    "Who is that guy?  Kuno's gonna kill him!" Daisuke exclaimed.  Hiroshi 
could only nod in agreement.
    "- Blue Thunder of Furinkan High!" they heard Kuno shout as he struck a 
noble pose.  A crack of lightning boomed out behind him.
    "... You think he planned that?" Hiroshi asked.
    "With Kuno?  Who knows.  He might have a lightning machine or something- 
he is the richest guy in town," Daisuke said, shrugging his shoulders.  
Below, the figure in red said something to Kuno, which seemed to enrage the 
kendoist.  He attacked, but the figure in red just dodged to the side, his 
body absolutely fluid.  Kuno tried again, slashing through the perimeter 
wall this time.  However, the figure had dodged again, this to the left this 
time.  Again and again Kuno attacked, but the figure never once faltered, 
dodging the wild attacks flawlessly.
    "Wow," breathed Hiroshi.  "That's incredible."
    "Yeah," Daisuke agreed, watching with rapt attention.  Finally, the 
figure in red seemed to tire of the game he was playing with Kuno, and 
attacked him from above.  The punch to the forehead, then vicious spin kick 
sent Kuno down hard, and the figure dashed inside, just beating the rain.
    "That...," Hiroshi began, turning to face Daisuke.  "Was the most 
awesome thing I ever saw."
    "Yeah, it was pretty cool," Daisuke agreed, walking back to his desk.  
"So, are we still gonna try to knock that tile into the girls' locker room 
out today?"
    "You can, Dai.  I'm gonna talk to that guy," Hiroshi said.
    "What?!" Daisuke nearly exploded, looking with wide eyes at his best 
friend.  "We've been planning this for months!  Don't tell me that you're 
giving it all up now, when we're so close, just to go chat with some new 
kid."
    "I'm not gonna talk to him, Dai," Hiroshi said, feeling, for the first 
time in his life, like he had a direction, a purpose.  "I'm gonna ask him to 
teach me how to fight like that."
    "Huh?" Daisuke asked, confused.  This didn't sound like the skinny, bony 
young man who had dropped out of kendo because he was too weak.
    "Just seeing him out there, Dai... it was incredible.  He was like 
water, ya know...," Hiroshi trailed off.
    "Well, yeah, but he's probably been training for his whole life.  You 
could never be like him," Hiroshi agreed.
    "I don't care.  Just seeing him out there...," Hiroshi said, shaking his 
head.  "I know what I want to do with my life, Dai.  I want to be a martial 
artist."

***Author's Note***

    Here we go- my second entry into the Second Bet.  I know that I should 
be working on The Opening Bet (sorry to all you who I kept waiting), but 
this story just found itself a spot in the back of my head and wouldn't 
leave me alone.  In any case, if you guys liked it, as far as a beginning is 
concerned, E-mail me.  If I get enough of a response, I'll continue the 
thing!
    ~Flash

***Author's Note- part 2***

    WOW!!!!  I can't believe how much of a response I got, even with all
 the formatting problems.  Thanks, all, and I will continue it, just so long
 as you all keep telling me what you think of the thing.  Same goes with The
Opening Bet.  Well, here we go, delving into the pre-DB of all this and seeing
 just what kind of an effect the Ranmaverse has on DBZ...
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