If this has been posted a second time I apologize.  I
got a Mailer Daemon telling me that it did not make it
thru.

Nezumi
Chapter 6
by Soul Survivor

---
Disclaimer: Aside from Rumiko Takahashi, the list of
people who have the rights to Ranma 1/2 escapes me at
the moment. However, I can tell you with absolute
certainty that it most definately does NOT include me.
---

Of all the lessons learned in her century plus
lifespan, meditation was one that Cologne employed the
most.  It allowed her to make sense of the daily
madness that surrounded her, as well as deal with it
without resorting to homicide... Usually.

*Smash!*  "Stupid!"  *Crunch!*  "Pervert boy!" 
*Thud!*  "Need bother!"  *Wham!*  "Someone else!" 
*Crash!*  "AND NO COME BACK!"

Even one hundred and more years of practice was being
challenged by the strangeness around her of late. 
>From Tsubasa's current fixation on Shampoo to the Kuno
boy's sudden interest in chinese food to the
strangeness in Mousse's behavior, things were getting
weirder by the moment.  The Kuno boy was a mystery in
and of himself, having become very quiet of late as
well as not sleeping well at all. From the way he
acted, it seemed as if he were waiting for something,
and the haunted expression on his face indicated that
whatever he was waiting for could not be good.  

Then there was Tsubasa...  While she did not know all
that much about the little pervert, what she did know
was that he was supposed to be obsessed with Ukyo, not
Shampoo.

That all of this coincided with son-in-law's recent
illness and attack on Ryouga was not lost on her. 
Ryouga's memory loss was no coincidence either.  It
was indicative of one who had witnessed a
shape-changers war-form and suffered the effects of
the Delirium, the insanity brought about by humanity's
instinctive terror of the shifting breeds.  Only those
of Were blood were immune, and she was quite positive
that that did not include Ryouga. 

The Tendo girl on the other hand...  Her account of
son-in-law becoming a furred monster was music to the
matriarch's ears.  She had seen the potential in his
aura on their first meeting, and the hope of producing
a full blooded Kahn warrior in her lifetime was born
anew.

When her great-granddaughter had turned out to be mere
kinfolk, she had been devastated.  All those years of
training wasted, all her hopes for naught...  Then
Shampoo had gone and gotten defeated by an outsider
male with what looked to be excellent breeding, the
mark of the shifting breeds strong in his aura.

Then, of course, there was the Neko-ken...  While
there was the possibility of a non-Kahn learning it,
it was a slim one at best, the Cat spirit being quite
particular about whom She bestowed Her gifts upon. 
The claw marks on Ryouga's body told her all she
needed to know; she was certain that the boy was Kahn,
and that was the best news she'd had all decade.

Mousse, on the other hand, troubled her greatly.  The
marks in his aura were of a variety she was not
entirely familiar with, and they were getting stronger
on a daily basis.  Add to that his uncanny ability to
detect Tsubasa, regardless of his disguise, and it
became clear that the blind boy was fast becoming an
unknown quantity, something she did not like at all.

Interrupted from her musings by the renewed violence
that heralded Tsubasa's return, she wondered whether
she should have simply let Mousse kill him to begin
with.

*************************

Everyone has their sanctuary, the place they go when
they need some peace and quiet, for Kodachi, that was
her garden.  Normally, the heady scent of her black
roses would calm her, allow her to think and plan. 
Normally...  Today, all the ebony blooms did was
depress her further.

This was her third day on her medication, her third
day of sanity, as it were.  Gone was her accustomed
leotard and ribbon, in its place was a subdued green
kimono.  Gone was her lethal gymnastic equipment,
replaced by schoolbooks and study, making up for years
of sliding by on only her family name in a private
school.  But also gone with them was the brightness,
the color in her life, replaced by a drab mundaneity
she could scarcely handle.

Time and time again, she was tempted to simply toss
her pills in the wastebasket, to escape the colorless
world and return to her former life, but one thing
stopped her.  This world, colorless and drab as it
was, was reality, her former life simply a dream.  The
things she had experienced in her delusional state,
that had seemed so real, faded to nothing in the harsh
light of sanity, and she knew that she had come way
too close to hurting or killing others in her madness.

Then there was Ranma...  She shuddered to think of the
things she had done to him and those around him in her
pursuit.  Attacking his fiancee, trying to hill the
red-haired girl, someone who could only be his sister,
what with the strong family resemblance and same
family name.  Using so many drugs and poisons on him,
any one of which could have been lethal in excess,
tricking him, tormenting him and those around him... 
It was no wonder that he wanted nothing to do with
her...  And that hurt most of all, for the one thing
the pills did not change were her feelings for him. 
She loved him still, and it was a love she now knew
went unreturned.

***************

The nights in Mt. Terror are full of life, at least to
those with senses sharp enough to discern it.  While
his father's sonorous snores did wonders to drown out
the sounds, the scents pervading the woods were
driving Ranma insane.  From the damp smell of the
underbrush to the varied musks of the local wildlife,
this was one aspect of being Nezumi that he could do
without.

Finally, after tossing and turning for better than an
hour, inspiration struck.  Slipping out of his
bedroll, he dug his canteen out of his pack, quietly
uncapping it, he dumped its contents on the sleeping
form of his father, eliciting little more than a
slight hitch in the older man's snores as his curse
activated.

Taking a deep sniff, he smiled in satisfaction before
returning to his bedroll and falling immediately
asleep.  After almost a year of living with it, the
odor of damp panda fur was one he could deal with.

Ranma found himself surrounded in mist, the chittering
voices that haunted his sleep louder than ever. 
Slowly the mist cleared and he found himself in the
hilltop clearing where he had first encountered Rat,
and after a moment, most of the remaining mist
coalesced into the form of Rat herself.  

Despite everything his father had told him, despite
even his own misgivings, in her presence all he felt
was safe and loved.  Steeling himself, he faced her,
determined to be master of his own fate.

"Look...  Ermm...  Well..." Words failing him, all he
could do was stand there, his determination failing in
the face of her presence.  Finally, She spoke.

"Relax, young warrior, and set your mind at ease.  I
know what troubles you, and while out of content, much
of what your father has told you of us is the truth. 
For most Nezumi, their duty is to cull the masses of
humanity, to keep them in check.  I also know that you
are ill suited for said task.  Rest assured, young
one, the low war of your brethren is not your lot. 
No, Fate, it seems, has a different plan for you, a
different plan indeed."

Feeling a wave of relief wash over him, Ranma took a
moment before responding.

"So...  If I'm not in with this Low War thing, what
then?  Why make me like this?  And why didn't you tell
me about this Low War business to begin with?  What
exactly do you want from me?"

Rat's chuckle was pleasant, that of a parent dealing
with a small child's innocent questions.

"All will be revealed in good time, young one, all in
good time.  For now, however, it is time to begin your
training."

This caught Ranma's attention immediately.

"'Training'?  Err...  This wouldn't involve c-c-c-cats
and fish sausage, would it?"

Apparently, even a furred rodent's face can display
confusion.

"Ahh...  Nooo.  Why do you ask?"

"Heh...  No reason...  Just checking...  So!  What
sort of training did you have in mind?"

A portion of the remaining mist coalesced into a small
rodent, which hopped onto Rat's shoulder and eyed him
appraisingly as Rat responded.

"This is the Kangaroo Rat.  Hers is the secret of
mighty leaps and bounds, a secret she will share with
you this evening."

Nonplussed, Ranma eyed the tiny rodent, debating on
whether or not he should mention his school's
specialization.  Finally, shaking his head in
amusement, he grinned at his diminutive sensei.

"Riiight.  Well then...  Let's see what ya got."

Much, much later, as dawn approached, two questions
were prevalent in his mind.  First, why was it, that
the smaller the teacher, the bigger the hardass they
were?  And second, when the HELL was he going to learn
that his foot did NOT belong in his mouth?

*************

As the sun rose over Nerima, Ichiro came to a
decision.  He had waited long enough, the time for the
first part of his vengeance was at hand.  Today, the
old bitch would pay the first installment on her debt
to him.  Today her great-granddaughter would die.

Leaving Konatsu with orders to run the restaurant as
usual, he made his way to the Nekohaten, shedding his
Ukyo disguise as he left the Ucchan.  Arriving at his
destination, he noted that the boy who had been
practically living there for the past two days had
already arrived and was sitting in his customary
corner booth.  No matter, though, he could be dealt
with easily.  The same went for the busboy who was
busily wiping tables.  Those two would fall to the
Delirium as easily as the former owner of his current
lair had, leaving only the crone and her spawn for him
to deal with.  Ahh, to see the look on the old bitch's
face when he drank his fill from her precious
great-grandchild...  Vengeance was indeed a dish best
served cold.

Ignoring Shampoo for the moment, he focused his
attention on the crone, addressing her in flawless
Mandarin.

"Greetings, Ku-Lon of the Joketsozuku.  Do you
remember who I am?"

Eyeing him warily, the old woman shook her head after
a moment before responding in the same language.

"To be honest, no, I do not...  I know I have seen you
before, but I could not say when or where."

"More's the pity then, crone, more's the pity.  I
remember you quite well, 'Protector of the Amazons',
quite well indeed."

Her danger sense flaring, Cologne eyed her guest
closely before responding.

"It has been many years since I have used that title,
stranger...  How is it that you are so familiar with
me?"

Chuckling, he slowly let himself dissolve into his
War-Form, laughing out loud as recognition finally lit
her feature, along with a touch of fear.

"Yesss...  Now you remember me, don't you...  Now you
remember me...  And now you pay, yess, now you pay."

Lashing out with a clawed forelimb, he held a futilely
struggling Shampoo aloft before him by her hair.  He
writhed with glee as he watched the old bitch attempt
assuming her War-Form, attempt and fail.

"You're too old for that, bitch, too old by far...  I,
however, I am ssstill in my pri- ack!"

Without warning, the girl was snatched from his grasp
by...  Nothing?  Turning, he received a face full of
knives, shuriken, yo-yo's, chains, and a duck training
potty, as the girl floated well out of his reach and
alighted on the floor at the other end of the
restaurant.  The busboy, instead of being frozen in
terror, was facing him, a look of fury upon his face. 
Chains hung from his sleeves like streamers of ribbons
from a party favor, and his coke bottle glasses
glinted from their perch on top of his head.  

Then from the left came another attack, the other boy,
also unaffected by the Delirium was moving forward,
his bokken blurring in a series of thrusts, the air
pressure of which were beginning to pulp the spiders
that made up his body.  Worse, the old crone was
attacking also, her walking stick moving even faster
than his eyes could follow.

The realization that he had seriously underestimated
his prey did little more than fuel the rage building
inside of him as, with a roar of primal fury, he
returned to the offensive.  Rage granting him speed
and strength far beyond his oppressors, he lashed out
at the old crone, striking her several times before
she could react, the impacts flinging her ass over
elbows into the kitchen area.

Another series of blows sent the bokken wielding boy
flying into a wall, allowing Ichiro to focus on his
primary threat, Mousse.  Spinning, he grabbed for the
busboy's chains, intending to string him up with them,
and received another shock as they sprang away from
him, seemingly of their own volition.

The myopic boy stood facing him, his body between the
enraged Kumo and Shampoo.  His chains floated about
him, writhing like angered serpents, one or another
striking out, keeping Ichiro at bay for the moment.

"An amusssing trick, mageling...  But, how long can
you keep it up?"

Ichiro could see the exhaustion on the boy's face, he
knew that in a matter of moments the strain of keeping
his chains moving would wear the boy down.  It was
simply a waiting game, then he would kill them all,
the girl first, so the mageling could watch her die.

Sensing the old bitch, he turned his attention her
direction in time to easily catch the object she had
hurled at him.  Looking at his hand, he found himself
holding...  A melon?

Kuno was in agony.  The pounding he had received was
worse than anything Saotome had ever done to him, in
either form.  He doubted his ability to even stagger
back to his feet, let alone resume the fight against
whatever that monster was.  Suddenly, the pain was
washed from his limbs, as his body was filled with a
holy purpose.  Tatewaki Kuno was once again the mighty
Blue Thunder.  The fruit that he hated beyond anything
else in this world filling his vision, he charged.

Ichiro's only warning was an inarticulate howl of
insane fury as the maddened Kendoist plowed into him. 
Moving with a speed and skill that defied description,
the Blue Thunder assaulted his hated foe, paying no
attention at all to the creature that held it, until
said creature attempted to block him in his holy
quest.  Then, that creature, obviously in league with
the hated fruit, became his target as well, something
to be exterminated, obliterated...  Destroyed!

It was at this point that Ichiro decided to retreat. 
The Kendoist was in a full frenzy, ignoring damage
done to him, the busboy, his bladed chains writhing,
was moving in as well, and the crone, miraculously
unharmed by his assault, was advancing, her body
glowing with power.  He had obviously underestimated
them, and facing them stood a good chance of being a
fatal mistake.  Collapsing into his breed form, a mass
of tiny spiders, he scattered to the four winds,
fleeing for the moment.  

When he had recovered from this mistake he would
return, better informed and prepared to deal with the
lot of them.  Yes, they would all pay with their
lives; he would kill them slowly, one by one, when
they least expected it.

Cologne watched as the Kumo dissolved and scattered. 
Keeping her battle aura burning, she extended her
senses.  When she was sure he was gone, she let it
drop, and felt the pain of her injuries wash over her
as she leaned heavily on her staff, the weight of her
years felt for the first time in her life.

Limping over to Mousse, who had collapsed in
exhaustion upon Ichiro's exit, she tapped a few
shiatsu points to better let his chi refresh him. 
Turning to Shampoo, she directed her to Kuno, who was
finally feeling his injuries.

"Take him into the back and make him comfortable, I
will deal with Mousse here."

As her great-granddaughter complied, Cologne sat
herself by Mousse's prone form, focusing her attention
on the boy's aura.  The marks she had noted before
were there, much more prominent now, as well as the
well-defined mark of magic.  That was what she had
seen before, and now it made sense.  The boy had
finally come into his own, and just in the nick of
time from the look of it.

How long she sat and studied his aura, she did not
know, only becoming aware of her surroundings again
when Shampoo cleared her throat.

"Great-grandmother...  What just happened?  What was
that thing and how did it know you?  What did Mousse
just do?  What is going on?"

Gently bopping Shampoo on the head for not speaking
Japanese, she sighed before speaking.

"It is a very complicated story, child, one that will
take some time to fully explain.  Come, I will tell it
to you as we clean up this mess."

Several hours later found the Nekohaten cleaned up but
not open for business as a battered Cologne sat and
shared tea with a stunned-looking Shampoo, an
amazingly recovered Kuno, and a still
exhausted-looking Mousse.  At the moment, Kuno was
finishing an explanation of his family's curse and his
vision of Shampoo's murder.

"Aiyah...  So that why you spend last three day here?"

"Aye...  After the vision, what else could I do?  It
is the duty of a Samurai to defend others, and while
my former delusions have seemingly gone for good, it
is still a code that I strive to follow."

"That is something, sonny boy.  How is it that you're
no longer a raving psychotic?  No offense intended, of
course."

"None taken, Elder.  I am sure that my ravings were a
spectacle to behold...  But, as to your question, I am
not sure what happened...  As best I can tell, my
delusions began fading after witnessing the incident
between Saotome and Ryouga.  It seems that the
horrific vision I had afterward has burned the
delusion from my mind.  Instead, I now get very little
sleep..."

The edge in Cologne's voice as she interrupted him
caught his attention.  Her posture had become almost
hungry as she addressed him in a calculating tone.

"You were there for the fight?  You witnessed his
transformation?  Tell me about it."

"You know of that?"

"Yes, actually.  I have been expecting it for quite
some time now."

At that, Kuno was suddenly half out of his seat,
indignation heavy in his voice.

"And yet you mentioned nothing to him?  Old one, do
you have any idea how close Saotome came to taking his
own life because of that?  His becoming a half-rat
monster nearly drove him -"

"Rat!?" The near hysterical tone of the matriarchs
voice, belied her visage of detached curiosity. "Are
you sure?"

Calming slightly, Kuno paused a moment to regain his
dignity before responding.

"Of course I am sure, I was less than five meters away
when it happened.  That is beside the point,
however...  Methinks you have done him a grave
disservice in keeping your silence on this matter. 
Someone could have been killed that day, honestly, had
it been anyone other than the Hibiki boy...  I do say
madam, are you even listening to me?"

Her expression ageing her beyond even her years,
Cologne's voice was distracted as she answered.

"I am listening, boy, and yes, perhaps keeping the
matter to myself may have been a mistake, but, what's
done, is done.  I will speak to him when he and his
father return.  Now, however, it is perhaps best if
you return home and get some rest.  I very much doubt
that the Kumo will return for a few days, and I have
preparations to make."

As Kuno was headed out the door, he paused as Cologne
spoke again.

"Know this also, your actions today will not be
forgotten, Tatewaki Kuno.  I am in your debt.  Should
you ever require the assistance of the Joketsozuku,
simply ask for it."

Bowing formally, she closed the door behind him, then
turned to those remaining.

"Shampoo, you go get some rest, I want to see if we
can open for the evening crowd.  Mousse, I need to
have a word with you alone."

After Shampoo had gone to her room, Cologne eyed the
myopic boy appraisingly for a moment, then poured him
some tea.

"It seems that I underestimated you, Part Timer,
something I will never do again, you can be sure of
that.  However, this leaves us in an interesting
pickle if you would.  The Matriarchs Council will be
less than pleased to discover that the first
Joketsozuku Magi born in over six hundred years is a
mere male.  Dont look at me like that boy, yes, I said
Magi, because that is what you are."

Stirring the dregs in the bottom of her teacup, she
seemed to come to a decision.

"When the mess with the Kumo is over and done with,
you will challenge Shampoo.  And THIS time, you will
not hold back!  I know that you dont like the idea of
hurting her, boy, but you have no choice in the
matter.  You will challenge her, you will defeat her,
and then you will marry her, thus the only Magi in the
village is no longer fair game for any Matriarch to
use in any given scheme"

Scraping his lower jaw off the table, Mousse eyed the
Matriarch as if she'd grown a second head.

"I dont understand...  You have spent most of my life
telling me that I could not have her...  Now you are
practically ordering me to marry her?  Not that Im
complaining mind you, but what about Saotome's claim?"

The old woman's wry grin at Mousse's discomfiture
slowly soured as she explained.

"Saotome's claim is being overridden by my authority
as village Matriarch.  As the saying goes, Rank Hath
It's Privleges, and all that.  As to why...  Well, for
once I will be frank.  My family have been producing
Kahn protectors for most of the three thousand years
of Amazon history.  And while bringing the first Magi
born in half a millenia under my influence has its
perks, it is still a secondary concern to my
bloodline.  There is no way, under any circumstances
that I will taint three thousand years of Kahn
heritage with the blood of a Rat!  I dont care how
talented he is, I dont care what he can do, it will
NEVER happen!"

_______________________________________________________

Tbc

Previous Chapters Found At:
http://www.soulsurvivor.itgo.com

For those of you who wonder about the Nezumi, this may
give you some
insight:

http://members.tripod.com/wwta/Breeds/Ratkin/Tribes/Nezumi/nezumi_tribe.htm

DarqueChilde
aka Soul Survivor

Questions? Comments?
E-mail me at:

simkin@rocketmail.com

We are the equalizers, the Low Born, the ultimate
truth. When our Hakken brothers realize the need for
us again, they will come, and we will make a
killing...literally. 
-- TienBao, Nezumi Warrior

Hakken - Werewolf
Nezumi - Wererat
Kumo - Werespider 


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