Part of this chapter was available on my website for a while as
a teaser (the 2nd scene), but everything else is brand spanking
new. So C&C would be greatly appreciated.

Chapter 15 will arrive next Sunday (April 17th). I want to give
this one a bit of processing time.

- Grayson Towler
http://www.talesfromthevault.com/relentless

               =========================
                      RELENTLESS
                A Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction

                   By Grayson Towler
               =========================


-----------------------------------------------------------
                     CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
                     Confidence Games
-----------------------------------------------------------

Akane sipped the pungent tea and grimaced, wondering if they 
always made it this bitter in the Amazon village or if they 
had brewed this mix especially for her. <Not the friendliest 
people in the world,> she thought, observing once again how 
the young women of the village deliberately ignored her as 
much as possible.  At least they weren't trying to kill her.

She fidgeted, weary from the all-night discussion she'd had 
with Elder Cologne but unwilling to hang around and rest.  She 
wanted to get on the road, to find Ranma.  She acutely felt 
each second as it ticked away. 

"Tendou Akane." 

She turned, slightly surprised at the sound of the familiar 
voice simply because it was the first male who'd spoken to her 
since she arrived.  "Mousse!" she said, setting down the nasty 
tea.  "How are you?"

The bespectacled fighter approached her with quiet composure, 
his hands hidden in the deep folds of his white sleeves.  
"There is something I would ask of you," he said in a quiet 
tone.  

"S... sure," she stammered.  She was still a little bit 
anxious around Mousse, in the aftermath of her fight with 
Shampoo.  He hadn't shown her anything but courtesy, but she 
couldn't help but be concerned that he would hold it against 
her that she had beaten his lady love, forcing Shampoo by 
Amazon law into a year of shame and servitude.  "What do you 
need?"

"I need..." said Mousse, "I need..."

"Yes?"

"I need you to wear this!" he whispered urgently.  His hands 
moved in a blur, and from the folds of his sleeves he produced 
an immense and utterly hideous hat.  The floppy yellow brim 
was almost expansive enough to be an umbrella, but even so the 
hat was nearly as tall as it was wide.  Fruits and flowers 
erupted in plumes from the center, interwoven crazily with 
tacky ribbons of all colors.  Perched on top of this eye-
torturing confection was the centerpiece of the hat - a 
stuffed white duck.

Akane shied away from the vile headgear.  "Uh..."

"Here's my plan," Mousse announced, whipping forth a flip-pad 
from his robe.  "First, you wear the hat, travel around the 
village, and be noticed."  In his first sketch, a crudely 
drawn Akane (very crudely, to her mind - the vacant eyes and 
the stumpy legs were a bit much) was wandering amongst various 
Amazons, who Mousse had depicted in the grips of giggling fits 
while they pointed to her hat.  "Don't worry, it will seem 
perfectly natural. The women of the village already know that 
you have no sense of fashion."

"And who told them THAT?" she demanded.

The Hidden Weapons fighter ignored the question, instead 
flipping to the next page of his diagram.  "Then, you get 
spotted in the same place as me."  A handsomely-drawn Mousse 
stood next to the dumpy Akane image on this page.  She thought 
the shine-sparkles and the admiring Amazons he'd drawn were 
somewhat less than realistic.  "This will throw them off the 
trail."

"Uh... look, Mousse..."

"Then," he interrupted, snapping the next page into place, 
"you go to this outhouse - the one on the farthest edge of the 
village."  The Akane in the image had been drawn walking with 
a pained look on her face, struggling along like a toddler 
still in potty training.  

She seethed at this latest unflattering sketch.  "If you want 
someone to help you," she grumbled, "you could at least TRY to 
be nice to them..."

In response, Mousse flipped over to the next page.  "I'll meet 
you there, in disguise as a duck.  At that point, you switch 
the stuffed duck on your hat with me."  He pointed at the 
illustration, then flipped to the last page.  A waddling Akane 
and a graceful, statuesque Shampoo were drawn traveling down 
the road. Heart-shaped bubbles swirled around the Amazon girl, 
while Akane struggled under the immense hat topped by a very 
pleased-looking duck.  "Once you leave the village, I will be 
able to travel with you in secrecy.  I'll be able to keep my 
eye on Shampoo, making sure that if she gets into trouble, 
I'll be there to swoop in and save her in the nick of time!"

Akane folded her arms.  "This is your plan?"

"It's perfect!" Mousse exclaimed, holding aloft the flip-book 
in triumph.  "Nothing can possibly go wrong!"

At which moment, the gnarled end of an old walking stick shot 
up from behind him and rapped him sharply on the skull, rendering 
him immediately unconscious.  He crumpled in a boneless heap, 
revealing to Akane the forms of Cologne and Shampoo when he 
fell.  The young and old Amazon women regarded the inert boy 
with a mixture of resignation and annoyance.  

As irritating as Mousse often was, Akane couldn't help feeling 
a little sorry for him, as she watched the Amazons trample him 
like a doormat when they walked toward her.  "Um," she 
hazarded, wondering if this was a mistake, "we could take him 
with us, you know."

"Out of the question, dear," Cologne said primly.  

"He's a pretty good fighter," she pointed out.  "And now that 
Shampoo isn't engaged... er... to Ranma," she fidgeted a bit, 
"... then he wouldn't have any reason to hold a grudge, 
right?"

The old woman studied her curiously.  "Is there some reason 
you want him along?"

Akane searched her own feelings, and found the answer floating 
very close to the surface.  "Well... I know how it is to be 
left behind, when the person you care about is going into 
danger.  It's hard... that's all."

The Amazon matriarch made a little humming noise.  "Be that as 
it may, sometimes it is for the best.  Ranma was right to 
leave you behind when he fled the Reikoku, girl.  You were in 
no shape to make such a journey."  She thumped Mousse's 
unconscious form with her staff.  "Nor is he.  His skills may 
be..." she ground her teeth, "... somewhat better than 
mediocre, I'll grant, but he would still only be in your way."

Akane shrugged.  "If you say so," she said.  She thought the 
old woman was too hard on Mousse, but maybe she had a point.  
Mousse could be a bit of a moron.

"Besides," the ancient Amazon continued, "You know what you 
will have to do to help Ranma.  Do you really want Mousse 
around for that?"

The Tendou girl felt a flush rising in her face.  "Well... 
no," she admitted.  Her gaze drifted to Shampoo, and she 
fidgeted uncomfortably.  "I'm not so sure it'll be such a good 
idea... to have anybody else there."

She and Shampoo and old Cologne had stayed up all last night 
discussing a plan to help Ranma, should he have no choice but 
to face the fourth incarnation of the Reikoku.  While the 
notion that the old woman had proposed seemed sound to her, 
and actually made her more hopeful than she had been for a 
long time that Ranma would really make it, the plan would 
require her to do some things that were... a bit embarrassing.  
Going through with it would take a lot of her nerve, and she 
felt anxious about having Shampoo on hand to witness, and 
possibly to interfere...

The old woman seemed to have read her thoughts.  "Have no 
fear, Tendou Akane," she assured her in a creaky voice.  
"Shampoo is far wiser than you give her credit for.  She is a 
daughter of the Amazons before all other things, and will not 
fail in her task.  Right, my dear?"

Akane's former rival bowed her shaved head.  "No worry about 
Shampoo," she said in that subdued tone she had adopted in her 
shamed state.  "Will keep promise.  Will help Ranma and you."

"Well..."  

"If I'm right," Cologne cut in, "Ranma will need help 
defeating the third form of the Reikoku as well.  This is help 
that only Shampoo can provide, I think."

"Only Shampoo?" Akane looked doubtful.  "What does that mean?"

"No time now," the old woman insisted.  "Winter is coming, and 
you must not tarry in finding Ranma if he is to survive this 
season.  The Reikoku is not hindered by dark or cold as humans 
are.  Now hurry.  Gather your belongings and make ready to 
leave.  There is no more time to talk."

- - - - - 

When you get to be very, very old, forgetfulness can be a sort 
of blessing.  

Happosai wasn't going senile, or at least he was fairly 
certain that he wasn't.  His mind was as sharp as it had 
always been, its cunning edge becoming finer with the passage 
of time.  He thoroughly expected to maintain an active mind 
and body up until the day he died, which he predicted would be 
at least another century in the future.

But a certain selective forgetfulness was a real boon for a 
man like him.  For one, it helped keep his pleasures fresh.  
He had known many a younger man to shake his head and wonder 
how someone could find the exercise of stealing underwear and 
peeping on women to hold its savor after so many decades.  
Happosai's secret was to not linger on the past, whether it 
held triumphs or failures.  Each day's events were written on 
sand, wiped clean by the waves of time.  Happosai lived in the 
moment, relishing the pleasures of each act of debauchery as 
if he had never experienced them before.

Of course, there were other reasons why it was helpful to 
forget.  

Happosai was a parasite, and he knew it.  He had long devoted 
himself to a brand of martial arts which allowed him to pull 
energy off another - a woman, it had to be - and nourish 
himself.  The drawback was that once he became good at doing 
that, he was hooked.  Happosai was not just a pervert, he was 
a perversion junkie.  So thorough was his addiction that any 
act of decency or kindness he might show to another caused him 
to suffer violent seizures of withdrawal.  He had to devote 
himself to being rotten just to keep going.

Which was something of a pity, because appearances to the 
contrary, Happosai was not rotten to the core.  A desire could 
surface in him at the most inconvenient times, an impulse to 
do good or to be kind.  It was something he could not entirely 
suppress, especially when there were children involved.  And 
as much as he hated to admit it, there was a point past which 
he did not enjoy seeing others suffer.  He never grew tired of 
petty, juvenile torments, but he also got no pleasure from 
causing others genuine, lasting pain.

When one spends one's life on the path of the pervert, though, 
it is inevitable that one will sometimes cross that line.  
Sometimes when that happened, he could tell himself that he'd 
been acting for the long-term good of the victim, toughening 
them up for the future, like when he had inflicted the 
Ultimate Weakness Moxibustion on Ranma.  Sometimes he felt 
that the target of his malice brought their pain upon 
themselves, like Pantyhose Tarou and his refusal to accept 
what was a perfectly good name.  

But not even Happosai could rationalize away what he'd done 
when he had set the Reikoku after Saotome Ranma.  Which was 
why it was good to know how to forget.  

Besides, he was doing his best to honor Ranma's memory.  The 
boy was certainly dead by now, unfortunately, and the 
atrophied thing that was Happosai's conscience wouldn't let 
him forget that entirely.  So as he traveled through China, 
seeking new apprentices and new pleasures, he made sure that 
the legend of Saotome Ranma and his adventures in Nerima was 
spread far and wide.  After all, Ranma would have wanted it 
that way.  

Best to stay in China for the time being.  Best not to go back 
to Nerima for now.  Genma and Soun would assuredly still be 
steamed, but he could handle them.  They'd get over it.  Genma 
could even get back together with that hottie of a wife of his 
now that the threat of seppuku no longer hung between them, 
maybe have another baby, raise it right this time.  Soun would 
find that he was better off without so many freeloaders 
slouching around his house.  Happosai could deal with the two 
of them.

But when he thought about Nerima, in his mind's eye he saw the 
face of Tendou Akane.  It was a picture he blocked out with 
all his might whenever it rose, unbidden, to haunt his dreams.  
To see it in person, to have such sadness burned into his 
eyes... even a master of debauchery has his limits. 

The secret to handling unpleasant realities was to set them 
aside and enjoy yourself.  Happosai was enjoying his stay in 
China, especially the opportunity to start afresh with a whole 
new school of martial arts.  Now that he had relinquished his 
title of Master of the Anything-Goes school he had created, he 
had a chance to start at square one and do it all over again.  
This time, he would make it even better than before.  He was 
older, wiser, more skilled, and even more corrupt than he had 
been when he had founded the Anything-Goes style.  This was a 
chance to learn from all his past mistakes and make a new 
school worthy of legend.

The trick was to find the right students.  That was where he 
felt he'd gone wrong the first time around, quite frankly.  
Genma and Soun had seemed so promising at first, but somewhere 
along the way they'd cracked under strain.  Saotome had become 
a coward, and Tendou had become a crybaby.  Disappointing, 
really.  

Thus far, none of the prospective pupils he'd encountered in 
China had measured up to his demanding standards.  He was 
searching for that perfect blend, a student with an exquisite 
balance of physical potential and moral bankruptcy.  He needed 
to find a young mind which would twist and warp under his 
tutelage, but not break.  Difficult... difficult...

This little town, he decided, was probably a wash-out.  He had 
let word get around that a wise master was seeking pupils, but 
thus far nobody of interest had responded to his call.  Nor 
had any serious opposition emerged to confront him in his 
panty-stealing raids.  That was fine - he could still avail 
himself to his usual pleasures and move on when he had taken 
all he wanted.   

<Like that little number, for example,> he thought as he 
cleared a fence and spied a bright patch of pink fluttering on 
a clothesline.  Silk, by the look of it, and a perfect fit for 
a tender young girl.  He changed his trajectory and leaped 
with grasping hands.  <Come to poppa...>

Something blurred past him just before he reached his prize, a 
black shape moving almost too fast for the eye to see.  
Happosai blinked his bulbous eyes, and saw that the pink 
nightie had vanished.

Somebody had stolen his treasure.

Happosai's battle aura began to simmer.  He managed to bank 
off the a low brick wall and just catch sight of the 
retreating figure as it disappeared behind another house.  
Seconds later, even as he was accelerating to catch up, he 
heard the distinctive shriek of a woman whose underwear had 
just been snatched right out from under her nose.

<A... a panty thief!> he thought, teeth grinding in righteous 
rage.  <Unforgivable!>

Happosai accepted no equal when it came to navigating rooftops 
and slipping from yard to yard, but this young fellow, whoever 
it was, was giving him a run for his money.  At first he only 
caught glimpses of the black-clad figure, hair tied back in a 
long, Chinese-style braid, features hidden by a mask almost 
identical to the one Happosai wore himself.  The stranger 
moved with the grace of a cat, barely rustling a blade of 
grass as he made his sure-footed way through the shadows of 
the town.  

<He's fast, whoever he is,> Happosai thought.  <Maybe as fast 
as Ranma, I'd warrant.  Not bad.  Not bad.>

But not good enough, of course.  Happosai ricocheted off a 
wall like a stray bullet and sped towards the opening of an 
alley, the perfect place to cut this interloper off and see 
him face to face...

As he skidded to a stop, Happosai was surprised to find the 
boy on his knees in a respectful bow, head tucked low, a 
heaping stack of women's undergarments held forth in his hands 
as an offering.  The lad spoke in fluent Japanese to the 
withered martial artist, "A gift for you, my master."

The old man blinked his tangerine-sized eyeballs, momentarily 
stunned.  Then instinct kicked in, and he snatched the loot 
from the boy's hands, greedily stuffing the silky articles 
into his swag bag.  "Hmmph.  Yes," he croaked.  "Yes, so 
that's it, is it?  You were looking for me."

The boy still kept his head lowered in reverence, but his 
posture was not totally submissive.  Still had enough 
cockiness to only take one knee, for instance.  That was good, 
that showed spirit.  "Word of your achievements has spread far 
and wide, venerable one.  Such talk inevitably finds its way 
to the ears of one such as I."

"Mm, so.  Not Chinese, are you?"

"No, my master," the boy agreed.

Happosai lit his pipe and jabbed the air with it.  "Not too 
fast with this 'my master' talk, sonny-boy."

The boy tilted his head up very slightly.  "You are looking 
for students, aren't you?"

"Sure, sure," the old man agreed.  "You heard that much right.  
But I don't plan on taking just anybody, see.  You got to have 
the chops to cut it as my student."  He fingered one of the 
bras that the boy had collected for a moment.  "This is a good 
start, but a lot of guys out there can steal."

"You are looking for more than just a run-of-the-mill pervert, 
then," the young stranger guessed.

"Exactly," Happosai agreed.  "I'm looking for an artist, boy."

The youth kept his face mostly in shadow, but Happosai thought 
he could see the faint hint of a smile.  "Then permit me to 
prove my worth to you, revered one."

The ancient reprobate crossed his miniscule arms and 
scrutinized the lad.  "Oh?  You sound like you have something 
in mind."

"Indeed.  If I may?"

Happosai made a magnanimous gesture with his hand.  "Go on, 
kiddo.  I'm listening."  

"My thanks," he said, inclining his head slightly.  This one 
knew how to show respect to his elders, at least.  That was a 
nice change of pace.  "In this village, there is a woman of 
surpassing beauty.  Skin as smooth as imperial silk, eyes like 
a yearling doe, luxurious hair that flows to her waist."

Inside Happosai's tiny chest, a heart like a fossilized prune 
began to thump faster.  "Yeah?  How old?"

"Young and tender, great master," the youth whispered.  "Only 
recently has she blossomed into womanhood, and the flowing 
curves of her body are still new and wondrous to even her own 
touch.  She is an innocent girl who still has no idea that she 
now possesses the body of a sensuous woman."

Happosai made a show of rubbing his chin as if in thought, 
trying to conceal the fact that he was wiping away drool from 
his mouth.  "You don't say?"

"Her parents keep her secreted from the rest of the 
villagers," the boy explained.  "As you may well imagine."

"Secreted.  Yes, yes."  That was always the way, wasn't it?  
The best things were always to be found in secret places.  

"Yet there is a hot spring where this young girl goes to 
bathe," the boy told Happosai.  "In the dead of night, up on 
the mountainside, deep in a crystalline cave where none can 
see her.  But I have learned where... and when."

Happosai closed his eyes and tapped his foot, pretending to 
think this over.  Best not to let a youngster like this one 
get too cocky.  Still, this sounded too good to pass up.  
"Okay, boy.  Let's go have a look.  But I warn you, if this 
little doe of yours turns out to be a pig, I'm going to get 
pretty angry."

The boy stifled a snort, possibly of laughter.  It was the 
first crack in his respectful demeanor.  Happosai glared at 
him.  "Something funny, kiddo?"

"Forgive me, venerable one," the black-clad youth said 
smoothly.  "You shall see with your own eyes.  I promise you, 
this girl is not a pig.  Not a pig at all."

Happosai's would-be apprentice led them on a winding course up 
the mountainside, ducking in and out of copses of trees, 
scaling sheer faces of rock, slipping through narrow cracks in 
the darkness.  Happosai wished he had left his bag of silky 
loot behind - navigating this circuitous route was difficult 
enough without trying to keep brambles and thorns from tearing 
his treasures.  He scowled at his young guide as the boy 
negotiated a path between prickly bushes.  

"You sure you're going the right way, boy?" he snapped 
crankily.

"Of course, sir."

"Well how does this tender young morsel of yours get to her 
bath every night through all of this?" he demanded.

The boy paused a moment to give his answer.  "There is an 
easier path to this cave that she travels.  However, her 
wealthy family has guards posted along that route, ready to 
ambush any who would follow her.  We are going the long way 
around to avoid detection.  If it pleases you, sir."

"Hmmph," he grunted.  Still, his pulse began to quicken as he 
followed the lad into the night.  If this girl's parents went 
to so much trouble to guard her, she must be a knockout.  
Either that, or they were really paranoid.  Still...

His respect for the young hopeful who was leading him also 
crept up a notch.  The boy had potential, that much was sure.  
To go through all this trouble for a bit of peeping?  Quite 
impressive.  And he was good, no question.  He seemed 
completely at home in the tangled wilderness, showing the easy 
grace of one who has traveled far on foot over all manner of 
terrain.  He also had a natural instinct for stealth, keeping 
himself cloaked in the shadows at almost all times, to the 
point that even Happosai hadn't gotten a really good look at 
him yet.  Very admirable indeed.

They made their way through a narrow fissure in the rock, 
towards a barely perceptible glow in the darkness of the 
earth.  The faces of stone were peppered with little shards of 
crystal which caught the light of what were assuredly candles 
from further into the depths of the cave.  Happosai could feel 
the humid air upon his face, and they followed the growing 
heat towards its source.  

The young fighter signaled for extra stealth as they entered a 
vaulted cave, twinkling with a myriad of quartz stars across 
the rough formations of stone.  The air had become hazy with 
the steam of the hot springs, smearing their vision in the dim 
light.  The masked lad peered over a ledge of rock, ducked 
back down quickly, and nodded to Happosai.

The old lecher peeked up for a look.

"Hotcha," he whispered softly.  

She was, indeed, as stunning as the boy had claimed.  She 
knelt there beside the spring, preparing herself for her bath 
with delicate gestures, naked as the day she was born save for 
a yellow bandanna tying back her long, black hair.  Her body 
was firm, graceful, strong - her athletic femininity reminded 
him of Akane.  Pearls of moisture beaded along her bare skin 
as she knelt before the hot water.  Her movements were indeed 
tentative and unsure, a girl not accustomed to the voluptuous 
curves of her own body.  

"Well?" the youth beside him whispered.

"Not bad," Happosai rasped back.  "What a hottie..."

"I... I have not..." the boy stuttered.

The old man tore his eyes away from the delicious scene before 
him to give a critical look to his would-be apprentice.  The 
lad had his hand curled into a trembling fist, his eyes closed 
with shame.  "What is it, kiddo?  Too much for your tender 
eyes, eh?"

"I... I have looked," the boy admitted, "but I cannot bring 
myself to..."  He heaved a huge sigh.  "I know that the moment 
a woman steps into her bath, she is at her most vulnerable.  
And yet, for all that I have prepared, I still cannot bring 
myself to do it!  I can't bring myself... to cop a feel!"  He 
hid his face in embarrassment.  

"Oh ho!  That's it, then?"  Happosai smacked his lips.  "Well, 
watch and learn, my boy."

"You don't mean... you're going to..." The boy met his eyes 
for the first time.  There was something vaguely familiar 
about him, but at the moment Happosai was so absorbed with 
what he intended next that he barely realized it.  

"Watch the master in action," he wheezed.  "Looks like she's 
about to step in the water... here goes!"

The young girl with the long black hair delicately lowered her 
foot towards the hot water as Happosai launched himself like 
some grotesque, bloated flea.  He soared towards the spring, a 
contrail of steamy air swirling in his wake.  He wanted her to 
turn around at the last second.  His timing, as always, was 
perfect.  "HOTCHA, cutie!" he shouted.  "Happi's he...aaaak!"

The bathing girl whirled with a speed Happosai would never 
have anticipated, reached out towards the incoming pervert, 
and closed her fingers around his shriveled body.

They were strong fingers, incredibly strong, hard as stone.  
And they were definitely male fingers.

Happosai felt the air squeezed out of him by a grip like a 
titan's.  His frog-like eyes bulged as he looked up into the 
smiling, fanged face of his captor.  "Y... you?" he managed to 
gasp as the air rushed from his lungs.

"Surprise, you son of a bitch," Hibiki Ryouga snarled with 
savage triumph.  "We've finally got you."

- - - - -

There was only one voice that Ranma really wanted to hear when 
he called back to the Tendou Dojo to check in, but it seemed 
luck had not been in his favor in the last several phone calls 
he'd made.  It was Nabiki this time, and she once again said 
that Akane was not home.  

"Sorry," the middle Tendou sister said, "she's out again.  
I'll tell her you called."

A series of strangled noises drifted in from the background on 
the line.  Ranma thought he recognized it.  "Hey... is that 
your dad cryin'?"

"Yeah."

"How come?" Ranma felt a trace of unease.

"Oh, you know him," Nabiki said smoothly. "Always crying about 
something.  So, where are you now?"

"Is Akane okay?" he pressed.  "Is that why your dad's 
bawlin'?"

A pause, then:  "You're right.  It's about Akane.  She married 
Kunou, and then turned around and married his father right 
after that.  It's a huge scandal.  All over the newspapers."

"Wha... you're KIDDING!?"

"Of course I'm kidding," Nabiki said evenly.  "Look, can we 
keep this to the point?  These international phone calls are 
not cheap."

"Okay, okay," Ranma groused.  "Geez."  He fumbled around with 
his map, trying to locate his position so he could pass it on 
to Nabiki.  It didn't help that the Japanese language map he 
was using seemed to be a good decade out of date.  "Uh... does 
Xiaoyu sound about right?"

He heard the tapping of a few keys as Nabiki double-checked 
this information on her computer.  "That would mean you'd 
traveled 220 kilometers since your last call.  Since you've 
been on foot, I'd say your guess is off."

"Crap," Ranma swore.  He peered out the front door of the 
little roadside restaurant where he had checked in to use the 
phone, trying to get his bearings.  "Lessee... there's kind of 
a valley back the way I came, with a windy river thing through 
it that's all frozen.  It's hilly around here, but the 
mountains are off to the west..."

A bird shot out from the undergrowth, screeching.

Ranma's breath caught in his throat.  He strained his senses, 
feeling for the dreadful aura of the Reikoku bearing down on 
him, clutching the strap of his backpack.  His heart pounded 
hard against his ribs.

"Ranma?"  Nabiki's voice sounded vaguely concerned.

"Shh," the pig-tailed martial artist whispered.  "I may have 
to run."

He could hear his own breathing amplified through the headset 
of the phone, quick and sharp as his body readied for action.  
He stretched out with all his senses, straining to hear, 
straining to smell, trying with all his might to feel the aura 
in the air around him...

The undergrowth rustled again.  A fox's head poked through the 
bush, its glinting eyes peering up in the direction the bird 
had flown.  Its prey escaped, the fox slunk back into the 
foliage.

Ranma shuddered, weak with relief, letting his backpack slide 
to the ground.  His knees trembled in the aftermath of the 
terror.  He hated the fear, hated the gratitude he felt that 
it had been a false alarm, hated the fact that he would need 
to run if the Reikoku caught up to him again.  And he really 
hated being alone.

The monster was wearing him down, slowly but surely.  Without 
his companions to watch his back, he had to be vigilant at all 
times, alert to any sign that the Reikoku was closing in. It 
had been different when he'd been with Ryouga and Ukyou - as 
awful as their protracted flight from the demonic Reikoku had 
been, it was not so lonely and miserable when his friends had 
been there.  Now, as he traveled through China on his own, he 
found that he slept poorly, felt harried and distracted all 
the time, and worst of all, his training was going nowhere. 

Ranma missed the support in his training - the sparring with 
Ryouga, the teaching time with Ukyou, the discussions with 
both of them - more acutely than anything else.  Maybe one of 
them would have had some insight about what he could do with 
this stupid cat problem, some hint he could use to find a 
direction to take with his efforts to conquer his fear of 
felines.  At the very least, they could have backed him up, so 
he wasn't so worried about going too far with his training and 
entering the Neko-ken state - which would be the end of him if 
the Reikoku found him like that.  How was he supposed to 
overcome his phobia if he couldn't afford to face it directly?

He was out of inspiration, spinning his wheels.  He was tired 
and lonely, and so sick of being afraid...

"Ranma?  You still there?"

The young Saotome cleared his throat.  "Yeah... still here."

"Everything okay?"

<No, it's not,> he thought.  <I don't know how long I can keep 
this up.>  But he didn't say that.  If it got back to Akane, 
she'd worry when she heard.  "It's all cool.  So, let's see if 
we can figure out where I really am..."

- - - - - 

"... so as near as I can tell, he's near Chi Bi," Nabiki said. 

Akane cradled the phone receiver in the hollow of her 
shoulder, freeing her hands to unfold her map.  "Looks like 
there's a river near there... do you think heading that way 
and trying to catch a boat would work?"

"Might be your best bet," her elder sister agreed over the 
line.  "You've got some rough terrain to cross."

"I'll ask Shampoo."

There came a pause from her sister in Nerima.  "Well... I 
guess.  Are you sure you can trust her, sis?  I mean, this was 
the girl who out to kill you."

"We've got that cleared up," Akane said.  She peered out the 
window of the little shop where she was borrowing the phone.  
Shampoo had flattened herself against the wall to avoid the 
foot traffic in the little street, her gaze lowered.  It was 
odd seeing her so somber and humble... there was something 
about it that just wasn't right.  "She does her duty," Akane 
murmured.  "You have to give her that."

"Pardon?"

"Never mind," she said briskly.  "Anything else?"

"Yeah," Nabiki said.  "Don't waste any time getting to Ranma, 
okay?  He... didn't sound like he was doing so hot."

"What did he say?"

She heard her sister snort.  "You know Ranma.  He never SAYS 
there's anything wrong.  But I think he's having a rough time 
on his own.  Nobody to show off to, you know."

"Don't be mean," Akane scolded, but without much heat. It was 
simply Nabiki's way to make light of serious matters. She got 
the message - she had no time to waste getting to her fiancee. 
"Everybody doing okay back there?"

"Kasumi's hanging in there, Daddy's kind of a mess." Akane 
could practically see Nabiki ticking off each person on her 
fingers as she spoke. "Natsume and Kurumi are trying to help - 
they don't know the full deal about what you're up against, 
but they can see it's hard on him."

"Well... I hope he's okay," she murmured. She didn't like 
upsetting her father, but sometimes there was nothing else to 
do. He was behind her, even if it worried him sick. "Anyway, 
I'd better get moving."

"Call soon as you can."

"Will do," she promised. "Thanks, sis. For being the one who's 
keeping everyone in touch like this."

"You'll pay me back," Nabiki predicted confidently. "Right?"

"You bet."

Akane grinned a little as she hung up the phone. She'd been 
pretty caught up in the past months with her own struggles 
with training and wanting to go after Ranma, but not so much 
that she hadn't seen the changes in her sister. The cool 
mercenary exterior still held firmly in place, but the Nabiki 
underneath had grown up quite a bit. Akane knew Nabiki had run 
into more trouble running the restaurant than she'd 
anticipated - and that seemed to have burned some of the 
selfish cynicism out of her. All you had to do was look at the 
way she treated Konatsu to see how much she'd changed. If this 
kept up, Ranma would barely recognize Nabiki when they got 
back home.

<We've got to get him back home first,> she told herself. She 
gathered up her traveling pack and made ready to go, but 
paused for a moment as she caught sight of the plainly-dressed 
Shampoo waiting outside in the street. She frowned, 
considering, and then headed for the counter.

Shampoo greeted her with a deferent bow when she emerged from 
the little shop. "You find out where Ranma is?" she asked 
quietly.

"Yeah," Akane said. "Look, Shampoo..."

"Yes, Akane-san?"

The Tendou girl cleared her throat. "All this humility 
stuff... you don't have to do that around me, you know. It's 
okay."

The Amazon girl raised her gaze a little. "Is penance. Shampoo 
have duty to her people..."

Akane waved a hand and forced a cheery smile. "Of course, of 
course, but listen... we're not in your village any more. I 
won't tell anybody if you don't keep up the act all the time. 
You can just be yourself."

Shampoo's chin lifted a little more, and she regarded Akane 
with a kind of cautious uncertainty. 

"Here," Akane said, reaching into the bag she'd just purchased 
from the shop. "I got you some clothes that are a little more 
your style, so you don't have to wear that canvas stuff all 
the time. And look..."

The violet-eyed girl peered at her. "A scarf?"

Akane drew out the colorful, purple scarf and showed it to her 
companion. "My adopted sister back home had her head shaved 
too... kind of by accident, but still. This is what we did for 
her. Let me tie it on..."

She moved around behind Shampoo, winding the scarf around the 
girl's bald head several times until it fit snugly, then tying 
it off in an attractive little knot. A fair length of purple 
silk flowed from the knot, trailing down Shampoo's back like 
two strands of hair. "There," she proclaimed, then pointed to 
a darkened window. "Take a look."

The young Amazon studied her reflection in the mirror, 
gingerly nudging the head scarf into place with the tips of 
her fingers. She turned back to Akane, her eyes wide and 
glistening with the hint of tears. "Akane..."

The Tendou girl smiled and put a hand on Shampoo's shoulder. 
"Looks pretty good, huh?"

Shampoo's lips trembled. She eased closer to Akane. "I... not 
realize... you such a kind person..."

Akane flushed, a little uncomfortable. "Well, I just 
thought..."

The Chinese girl leaned even closer, until Akane could feel 
her warm, sweet breath on her cheeks. "So kind... Never knew 
how much I... I..."

"Look... we're in public..."

Shampoo closed her eyes, gently cupping Akane's cheek in her 
hand. "It not matter..."

Distinctly nervous now, Akane looked around a bit frantically. 
"Hey... what do you think you're doing? I..."

Suddenly, before she had a chance to react, Shampoo reached up 
and pinched her nose. A big, mischievous grin spread across 
the Amazon's face. "Gotcha!"

Akane stumbled back, almost losing her balance. "H...hey!"

Shampoo laughed and pointed. "Akane such a sucker!"

The Tendou girl curled her fists. "I oughta belt you for 
that!"

The Amazon just grinned, fingering the trailing end of the 
scarf around her head. "No time for fight now, silly. Where 
Ranma now?"

Akane ground her teeth, still feeling a bit flushed. "Nabiki 
said he's near some place called Chi Bi. She thought we could 
go by boat and get there..."

"Pfft," Shampoo snorted. "Boat take forever. Is train leaving 
very soon. Hurry, slowpoke, or we miss it!"

"Who are you calling a slowpoke?"

Shampoo scooped off her pack and hopped onto the roof of the 
nearest building. "I is taking shortcut!" she called back, a 
sly grin on her face as she glided with perfect balance across 
the narrow center beam of the roof. "Keep up now!"

"Wait!" Akane shouted, scrambling to get her own backpack in 
place as she leaped up to follow Shampoo. <That little... if 
she thinks I can't keep up with her, she's in for a surprise!> 
She bolted across the roof, scrambling to keep pace with her 
nimble guide.

As she skipped across rooftops, hopped over beams, and 
tightroped her way across clotheslines, Akane felt her 
frustration melting away. A smile played on her lips as she 
watched Shampoo dance her way across the town, the flowing 
ends of the scarf trailing in elegant waves behind her. <This 
is more like it,> she thought with satisfaction, and picked up 
her pace.

- - - - - 

<It's good to get back to your roots sometimes,> Nabiki 
reflected as she made her way upstairs. These past months had 
changed her in ways she'd never thought possible - she'd 
learned how to really run a business, she'd bounced back from 
catastrophic failure, and she'd actually started to LIKE the 
feel of doing a hard day's work. The feeling of earning money, 
rather than conning it out of someone, filled her with a 
completely unexpected sense of accomplishment.

Tendou Nabiki liked the changes she saw in herself. She felt 
like a better person because of her experiences with the 
restaurant and Konatsu. But right now, she was really looking 
forward to putting the screws to someone.

<Some thrills just never get old, I guess,> she decided, and 
smiled that hard, mercenary smile.

She paused outside the sliding panel door in the upstairs 
hallway of the Tendou home and did a final inventory.

<Dossier? Check.>

<Glass of water? Check.>

<Potion bottle? Check.>

<Attitude? Check.>

With a satisfied nod to herself, she eased open the door.

"Ah, Mr. Saotome," she purred. "I hope I'm not disturbing 
you?"

Saotome Genma turned in surprise at her entrance, fidgeting 
with his glasses. He had been moved to the smaller guest room 
now that Natsume and Kurumi were here, taking up the space 
where he and Ranma had once slept. He slapped the book he'd 
been reading closed and tucked it behind his back. Nabiki made 
a mental note to find out what it was - she liked to keep 
informed about the goings-on in the household. For now, it 
wasn't an issue.

"Ah... what can I do for you, Nabiki?" 

She gave him just a hint of a raised eyebrow, and was 
gratified to see him flinch. Everyone knew the look she gave 
people when she wanted something. The elder Saotome - a good 
deal more paranoid than his son - had reason for concern. 

"I know your time is precious," she began, making sure the 
edge of sarcasm showed in her voice, "but if you would be so 
kind, I'd like you to look over this for me."

She tossed him the dossier. 

Mr. Saotome nervously opened the flap on the bulky yellow 
envelope and withdrew the contents for examination. She saw a 
sheen of sweat materialize on his broad face as he glanced 
over the photos and documents. "I... uh..." he swallowed hard. 
"I'm not sure what to make of... of..."

"Oh come now, Mr. Saotome," she hummed. "No need to be shy. 
After all, you've been known to complain about what an ingrate 
your son is. Now, it becomes clear that you have not one, but 
two lovely daughters."

"That... that's preposterous!" he forced a chuckle, which 
sounded a bit more like a carp asphyxiating than a real laugh.

She indicated the dossier. "It's all there, I'm afraid. 
Testimony gathered from Natsume and Kurumi about what they 
know from their father. The matter of your Anything-Goes 
Scroll in their hands. Comparative analysis from your poetry 
and the journal Natsume read. A timeline of your 'training 
journey,' which coincides with two protracted stays in the 
same neighborhood as Natsume and Kurumi's mother. Witnesses 
who said..."

"It's circumstantial!" the broad-framed martial artist 
protested loudly. "It's not proof of anything!"

"Ah," Nabiki raised a finger. "I wonder. Would your wife see 
it the same way?"

The ashen look that often accompanied Mr. Saotome's 
reflections on his marriage crept onto his face. He faked a 
nonchalant pose. "She'd understand. Manly behavior, and all 
that."

<Bluffing,> she thought, and extended her hand. "Well, then I 
expect I should show that folder to her. She'd probably be 
ecstatic, don't you think...?"

Saotome Genma's composure cracked. He clutched the envelope 
tight, looked left and right, and then began cramming the 
papers into his mouth. "Thersh..." he slurred as he chewed, 
"thersh... noshing to... >gulp< ... show her!"

Nabiki's smile just broadened. She made a little "tsking" 
noise. "Ah, like father, like son," she opined. "How utterly 
predictable. Did you really think I'd allow you to eat your 
way out of this?"

He looked dejected. "You made copies, huh?"

"Pfeh," she sniffed. "That much goes without saying. However, 
since I predicted you might attempt this particular gambit, I 
took the liberty of lining the insides of that envelope with 
the dilution of Widow's Blood. Are you familiar with it, 
perchance?"

The bespectacled martial artist clutched at his throat. "P... 
poison?" he squeaked. "You... traitor!"

"Oh, how you wound me," she lamented. "I should tell you..."

"Now, this has gone far enough!" he blustered. "Young lady, 
you should respect your elders. You've gone entirely too far 
this time. Why, I should go to your father at once and tell 
him how you have come here with all these baseless accusations 
and poisoned envelopes..."

Nabiki sighed. She had anticipated he might turn annoying on 
her, but fortunately there was an easy solution. That was what 
the glass of water was for.

With a splash, Saotome Genma became a panda. "Growf!" he 
huffed irritably. 

"Now, about this poison," she said.

The panda's ears drooped, and he stopped making noise.

"It's nothing lethal," she informed him. "It will, however, 
make sure you spend the next week or so in the bathroom."

Saotome-panda swallowed hard. He held up one of his signs:  
[Antidote?]

She produced the little green bottle. "Right here. But before 
we negotiate this purchase, let's finish up with the matter I 
came in here about. The dossier you just ate."

Panda-shoulders drooped - an acknowledgement of defeat. [I 
don't have any money.]

"I know," Nabiki agreed. "What I want from you is something 
that you do have in abundance."

[Wisdom?]

"Free time."

[Oh.]

"In exchange for my discretion in the matter of Natsume and 
Kurumi's paternity," she explained, "I shall be asking you to 
assume certain duties at my restaurant. Mostly the cleaning, 
washing up of dishes, that sort of thing. Your presence as a 
panda during store hours may also be required, depending on 
how well customers respond to the funny animal factor." She 
paused, then let her grin widen. "There may be costumes 
involved."

The panda groaned.

"I keep meticulous tabs on my inventory," she continued. "Not 
to mention the cash drawer. Pilfering will not be tolerated. 
So long as you perform to my standards, no copies of that 
dossier will find their way into your wife's hands. Thus, you 
can reasonably expect your head to remain attached to your 
body."

Trembling, the transformed martial artist held up his 
[Antidote?] sign again.

"Ah, yes." She tossed him the small bottle. "Can't have you 
calling in sick on your first day. I expect you in the store 
at closing time tomorrow." She turned to leave, flipping a 
strand of hair back into place as she waved goodbye. "Ciao."

As she slid the door closed, she smiled in satisfaction at the 
sound of a panda gagging down something particularly noxious.

This was only appropriate - the whole poison thing had been a 
bluff, designed to give her a psychological edge over the old 
swindler. The "antidote" was merely the foulest, bile-tasting 
concoction she and Konatsu had been able to brew together in 
the kitchen - harmless, but thoroughly gross. 

The bit about the poison wasn't the only bluff she'd made to 
Mr. Saotome. If push came to shove, she wasn't really certain 
that she'd go public with her findings about Natsume and 
Kurumi. The real issue wasn't what might happen between the 
Saotomes - it was how it would affect her adopted sisters. 
She'd come to like the two wandering girls, and in talking to 
them had felt sorry for them in their long, lonely quest for 
their true father. After all, Nabiki knew what it was like to 
lose a parent.

Tendou Soun had his shortcomings, but if there was one thing 
Nabiki had learned from living with Mr. Saotome and seeing how 
he had raised Ranma, it was that her own father wasn't so bad. 
If it came to a choice between her dad and that fat 
freeloader, she knew who would be the better parent for 
Natsume and Kurumi. The two girls were happy here, and had 
been accepted as part of the family. She didn't really want to 
bring the whole matter of their true parentage out in the open 
if it might mean disrupting the first stable home those two 
had ever known.

<Who says I don't have a heart?> she thought to herself. 
<Still... all that doesn't have to stop me from turning Mr. 
Saotome into my blackmail slave.>

She felt not a whit of guilt about that. Ranma's father had 
done very little to pull his ponderous weight around this 
house. He had been let go from Dr. Tofu's within weeks of 
being hired, and had taken no work since then except to tag 
along on some of the outstanding freelance assignments that 
fell to martial artists - exorcisms, monster control, and that 
sort of thing. Even now that they had started lessons again at 
the dojo, Saotome Genma didn't show much interest in the 
paying students. 

It was about time she got some use out of that furball. Menial 
chores around the restaurant wouldn't really take that much of 
the old fraud's time, really... but it would free both her and 
Konatsu up from some of the more tedious duties. <It'd be nice 
to have some time off with Konatsu,> she speculated. <He 
hardly knows anything outside of work, work, work. Somebody 
needs to teach him to have a little fun.>

There was a festival coming up soon, she remembered. Maybe she 
could drag the pretty ninja along for a little R&R. She liked 
dressing up and going out for that kind of thing...

<The only problem is making sure Mr. Saotome doesn't slack off 
while I'm not looking.> She was also concerned that the old 
glutton would dig into her stores if left alone, in spite of 
her warnings. <If only I could find someone to keep an eye on 
him...>

"Goodness, Miss Sanae," she heard her sister say. "You got all 
this ready yourself?"

Nabiki poked her head into the kitchen. There was her 
sister... and next to her sat the chimpanzee, Miss Sanae, 
dressed in her flowery kimono. A substantial array of 
ingredients had been laid neatly out across the countertops in 
anticipation for the dinner Kasumi was about to prepare.

"You're letting her help you cook?" Nabiki asked, curious and 
surprised. She knew her sister had been working with the 
little ape, but this... "Uh, are you sure this is... you know, 
sanitary?"

"Certainly, Nabiki," Kasumi replied cheerfully. "Miss Sanae is 
a master of tea ceremony. She's very clean and conscientious. 
Once she understands her instructions, you'd be quite amazed 
at how thorough she can be."

"Is that so?" replied the mercenary girl. "Say, sis. I have a 
notion about how something I'd like Miss Sanae's help with..."

- - - - -

When they had still been traveling through China as a group - 
before Jusenkyou, and the fragmenting of their little company 
- there had been plenty of time for Ukyou and Ryouga to talk 
to the others about plans for what they would do if they ever 
got their hands on Happosai.  While many of these sessions 
sounded like water cooler talk at the corporate headquarters 
for the Spanish Inquisition, others had been more practical 
than lurid.  Both Ranma and Pantyhose Tarou had amassed quite 
a wealth of knowledge about the world's worst pervert, and had 
been more than happy to share what they knew about keeping him 
subdued.

The first trick in dealing with Happosai was, of course, to 
capture him.  That was hard enough.  But the secret to keeping 
hold of the little toad was to never let him out of your 
sight.  Even squashing him under a heavy rock was a bad idea - 
the moment he disappeared from view, his chances of pulling 
off an escape shot through the roof.

He wasn't that strong physically, but he made up for it by 
knowing how to apply leverage in ways that would make 
Archimedes' head spin.  They had agreed that when making bonds 
for the old goat, you couldn't just hope to truss up his hands 
or his feet or anything - you'd better go for the full 
mummification treatment from the neck down.  And the last 
thing to keep in mind was that if Happosai got his battle aura 
going, there was no holding him down.  The strategy had to be 
to use something to weaken his energy to the point that he 
couldn't even generate a spark.

For this, they had decided to use Ryouga's socks.

"These... these are killing me!" the shriveled lecher wailed.  
"Lemme go! Lemme go!"

Happosai squirmed uselessly in the thick swaddle of ropes that 
the two young fighters had wrapped around him.  For good 
measure, they had hung him upside-down from a branch, so he 
had no surface from which to push off.  The socks, in all 
their patchy, unwashed glory, hung around at his wrinkled 
throat like a collection of moldy neckties.  

Ukyou leaned against a tree and surveyed the recently-awakened 
Happosai with cool contempt.  "You're not gonna die, you old 
fool.  Quit whining."

Happosai began to snivel.  "You... you don't understand... I'm 
an addict!  I need a woman's touch... or I'll die, you hear 
me!"

Ryouga barked out a laugh.  "Ha!  We know better than that.  
You survived for ten years in a cave, miles away from the 
nearest woman.  It'll take more than a few stinky socks to 
kill you.  I think you're too evil to die, old man."

The trussed pervert swayed to get a better look at Ryouga.  
"You!  I've seen you before.  How'd you get here?  You were 
one of those guys always hanging around at the house."

The Lost Boy's teeth ground together like shifting boulders.  
"You don't remember who I am?"

Happosai appeared to be racking his memory.  "Hmm... let me 
think.  The teeth are a bit familiar.  Weren't you one of the 
guys that Akane rejected?"

Ryouga's knuckles popped as his hands balled into fists.

"Or one of Ranma's punching bags?" the old man mused.  
"Something like that.  One of the little people."

"You old bastard!" Ryouga roared in anger.  

Ukyou intercepted him before he lunged, hauling him away from 
the dangling degenerate.  "Whoah, sugar!  Hold up, hold UP!  
He's just trying to get you riled up so you'll do something 
stupid, okay?  Listen, listen..."

"One of the 'little people!'" Ryouga snarled.  "Don't tell me 
you don't remember Hibiki Ryouga, old man!"

"Who?" Happosai asked innocently.

"Of course he remembers you!" Ukyou shouted, struggling 
against her angry companion.  "Remember that other guy we met?  
The groveling one?  Happosai had been telling stories about 
you, and Ranma, and everybody!  He remembers you just fine.  
He's just pulling your strings, dummy!"

Ryouga stopped struggling against her and backed off, 
breathing hard.  "You're right.  Yeah.  I remember that.  
Heh... not going to be that easy, you piece of filth.  You 
remember me just fine."

"Hmmph," Happosai snorted.  "You all think you're pretty 
clever to have trapped me, do you?"

Ukyou glared at him with a mixture of contempt and triumph.  
"We WERE pretty clever.  You fell for it hook, line, and 
sinker, old man."

"So you must've been dressed up as that boy, is that it?" the 
upside-down prisoner asked.  

"Don't feel so bad," Ukyou said, tossing back her hair.  "I am 
a master of disguise, after all."

"Yep, you sure fooled me," Happosai agreed.  "Even someone as 
awake to female energy as me could mistake YOU for a boy."

Ukyou's left eye twitched.

"Of course," the shriveled martial artist continued, "you were 
never much of a girl to begin with.  Ugliest of Ranma's 
fiancees by far.  Everybody knew that."

"ExCUSE me!" Ukyou snapped.  "I seem to recall that I was the 
CUTE fiancee!"

"Oh, Ranma just said that to make you feel better," the old 
man explained glibly.  "You should have heard how they talked 
about you behind your back!  'Face like a sardine okonomiyaki 
on that girl,' Ranma would say to Akane, and how they would 
laugh..."

This time, it was Ryouga's turn to hold her back as she lunged 
for the old man, hands outstretched with intent to throttle.  
"Take that back, you damned liar!" she roared.

"He's just trying to get you angry!"  Ryouga insisted as he 
braced himself against her charge.  "Of course he's lying, 
Ukyou!  You're gorgeous, everybody knows that.  Nobody would 
ever say anything like that about you!  Come on... settle 
down!  He's just trying to..."

Ukyou reigned in her temper and pulled back, composing 
herself.  "Heh," she said as she tossed her hair back and took 
a deep breath.  "Yes, of course.  You really are a slippery 
old bastard, aren't you?  But we're not going to fall for any 
of your tricks."

"Aw, come on," Happosai wheedled.  "Just let me down, kiddies.  
This has gone too far.  You should respect your elders."

A burst of dry laughter greeted this particular sentiment.  

"No chance, geezer," Ukyou said.  "You're going to talk, and 
you'd better tell us the truth."

"Talk?" Bulbous eyes blinked, a grotesque parody of innocence.  
"What about?  What could you want to talk to ME about?"

"The Reikoku," Ryouga rumbled.

"The what?  Never heard of it."

Ukyou clicked her teeth together softly.  "No, no. That's not 
going to do at all."

"Is it some kind of martial arts technique?" Happosai asked, 
looking at them with blank incomprehension.  "Or a new sort of 
food you're learning to cook?"

The young chef's eyes narrowed to slits.  "We have ways of 
making you talk, old man.  Ryouga?"

"Yes?"

"Do it."

Ryouga turned and rummaged around behind him, his actions 
hidden from Happosai's view in the flickering light of the 
campfire.  The old man eyed him nervously, trying to peer 
through the gloom for a better look.  "What... what's going 
on?" he asked, beads of sweat forming on his wrinkled brow.

"Since we're in China," Ukyou explained evenly, "we decided to 
use a bit of Chinese history to inspire us.  Extracting 
confessions from prisoners has been a fine art in China for 
many centuries now. Did you know that? Water torture, bamboo 
torture, caning, thumbscrews... the list just goes on and on."

The old man swallowed hard.  "Uh..."  The look on his face 
suggested that he did, indeed, know a good deal more about 
Chinese tortures than he ever would have cared to learn.  

"Since you refuse to cooperate," the girl said in a grave 
voice, "prepare to endure... the Boxer Rebellion!"

Ryouga whirled to face Happosai, thrusting a stick towards the 
old man's face.  Wrapped around the end of the stick was a 
pair of boxer shorts.  They bore faded stripes that might once 
have been yellow, and the fabric was all but worn to threads 
in many places.  Ryouga had brought several changes of 
underwear with him along on the trip, but this was the pair he 
had worn the most, through the most exertion.  And they had 
not been properly washed in some time.

"AAAK!" Happosai gagged as powerful male musk flooded his 
nostrils.  "Get it away!  Get it away!"

Ukyou watched stoically, her arms crossed.  The old man 
thrashed helplessly in his bonds as Ryouga poked and waved 
with the stick, flooding the old man's airspace with the 
masculine aura of the boxer shorts.  "We know all your 
weaknesses, oldtimer," she said harshly.  "Female underwear 
gives you strength, and male underwear takes it away."

The trapped pervert hacked and wheezed.  "Not... not fair!" he 
whined.  "Make it stop!"

Ukyou raised a hand.  Ryouga withdrew the stick and held it to 
one side.  Ukyou extended one finger and gently pushed the 
stick away towards the other side, farther away from her, and 
then returned her attention to Happosai.  "Now, shall we try 
that again?"

Happosai heaved out a series of pitiful, whistling gasps.  
"You youngsters... sure have gotten... ruthless..."

"Being pursued by the Reikoku will do that to you," Ukyou said 
flatly.  

This caught the old man by surprise.  "Pursued by the... you?  
Wait, wait... which one of you?"

"Both of us," Ryouga said.

"BOTH of you?  But... but why?  Wait... when Ranma died, did 
he pass on the title of Master to one of you?  But then how 
could both..."

Ukyou leaned forward, eyes flashing dangerously in the 
firelight.  "Ranchan's not dead, you old bastard!  No thanks 
to you."

"He's not?"

Ryouga fidgeted.  They didn't actually know for a fact that 
Ranma was still alive, though clearly he had still been moving 
until recently, long enough to keep the Reikoku off their 
trail while Ryouga recovered his health in the Amazon village.  
He felt that he should probably keep that bit of uncertainty 
to himself, though, all things considered.

"As for how it ended up pursuing us," Ukyou continued, "that's 
something I wouldn't expect you to understand.  You've never 
done anything decent for another person in your whole 
miserable life, have you?"

"Hey!  Now that's..."

She ignored him.  "We're in this mess because we helped Ranma.  
Get it?  Now it's chasing us as well as him."

The desiccated old troll worked his jaw.  "You helped him... 
you must not have known what it was... you must not have 
realized..."

"Oh, we realized," Ukyou corrected him. "It doesn't matter.  
We made our choice anyway.  If I had to do it again, I 
wouldn't hesitate."

"Nor would I," Ryouga agreed.  He had really attacked the 
creature to protect Akane, not Ranma, but that distinction 
didn't matter to him anymore.  "I guess Pantyhose Tarou 
probably would have rather not have gotten into all this, 
though.  If he had it to do over again."

"P... Pantyhose?"  Happosai spluttered, bewildered.  "What 
does he have to do with... with all this?"

Ukyou and Ryouga looked at each other for a long moment, an 
unspoken question between them about who should tell this part 
of the tale.  Finally Ryouga turned to the captive pervert, 
his eyes all but hidden in the shadow of his bangs.  "Tarou 
fought the Reikoku without knowing what it was.  He traveled 
with us through China for a while.  Eventually, the Reikoku 
caught up with him and killed him."  That was only the bare 
bones of the story, but it was all this old man deserved.

"K... he's dead?  Pantyhose?" The ancient pervert's Adam's 
apple bobbed in his throat as he took a hard swallow.

"Dead," Ukyou agreed solemnly.  "Now, quit pretending like you 
don't know what the Reikoku is.  This all started because of 
you.  It's YOUR fault, do you hear me?  Your fault.  So if you 
don't start coming clean with some details about whatever it 
was you did and how this thing started chasing you, then I'm 
going to do a lot worse to you than make you smell Ryouga's 
underwear.  You can bet on that, you miserable son of a 
bitch."

Happosai talked.

There were fewer details than Ukyou and Ryouga would have 
preferred, because Happosai had not really bothered to find 
out who his victims had been on the night he had entered the 
grounds of the temple.  He knew that it had been full of 
women, and that they had reacted (overreacted, in his opinion) 
to his intrusion by summoning the Reikoku to pursue him.  
Beyond that, he knew very little about the beast or those who 
had called it forth.

"Y'see, when they summoned it, they bound it to pursue the 
'Master of Anything-Goes,'" he told them.  "But that's a 
really weak incantation.  I knew a thing or two about the 
Reikoku already... you pick up all sorts of knowledge when you 
get around as much as I do."

"Yeah," Ryouga agreed dryly.  "You've probably stolen a whole 
library worth of ancient scrolls."

"Hmph," Happosai huffed. "If you want to do the thing right, 
you should summon up that critter with your target's proper 
name.  Maybe a bit of hair or blood, or something personal 
they own.  But with just a title to go on, that left me a 
loophole."

"A way to brush your punishment off on someone innocent, you 
mean," Ukyou hissed.

"Ranma wasn't just an inno... um, never mind."  Happosai saw 
the look in both his captors' eyes and prudently decided not 
to finish that thought.  "Well, okay, I was wrong.  I'm sorry, 
okay?  Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Not even close," Ryouga growled.

"Forgiving you is out of the question," Ukyou said.  "Don't 
even bother with that.  What we want to hear is how to stop 
the Reikoku from chasing us."

"Well... I don't really know," the old man said, sweating a 
bit.  He appeared reluctant to pronounce such bad news.  "The 
trick I used only worked because they set the thing off with 
such a slipshod incantation.  Now that it's onto you, that 
means you must've attacked it, right?  Well, changing your 
name won't get it off your tails.  It's after you for the long 
run."

"What about these women at that temple?" Ukyou asked.  "Would 
THEY know more about it?"

Happosai twitched.  "Probably.  Maybe.  They bungled the 
summoning, but maybe they have other information about what to 
do.  I don't know... didn't hang around to ask them."

"Too busy running for your sorry life," Ryouga grumbled.  

Ukyou planted a hand on her hip and pushed back her hair.  
This was not what she'd been hoping to hear from this old man.  
She had wanted good, solid answers, not dubious 'maybes' and 
uncertainties.  "All right... look.  Do you know where that 
temple is?"

"It was sort of hidden," Happosai said.  "Don't think they're 
listed in the phone book."

"But could you find your way back?" Ukyou pressed.  "You got 
there once, you could do it again, right?"

"Well... um..." Happosai wriggled around.  "I could... but I 
think there's got to be another way.  Let's just put our heads 
together and..."

Ukyou turned to her companion "Ryouga?  Put him under."

"With pleasure."

Happosai's eyes widened in alarm as he watched the lost boy 
pick up two hefty chunks of stone and move towards him.  "Hey 
now!  What do you think..."

"Lights out," Ryouga said with unmistakable relish, then began 
to smack the heavy stones together like a pair of cymbals, 
with Happosai's head in between.  Quite a few loud whacks 
later, the stones had crumbled into powder, and the old man 
was dangling unconscious from the tree limb.

Ukyou stared off into middle distance, pondering what they had 
just learned.  Ryouga dusted his hands off and settled in 
beside her, studying her face as he sat down.  "What do you 
think?" he asked.

"Not much choice, I guess," she said quietly.  "We've got to 
get the old goat to lead us to that temple.  Whatever it is."

"They might not be able to help us," Ryouga noted gloomily.  
"They might not even want to."

"No, they might not," Ukyou agreed.  "But remember, we have 
something they want, at least."

"We do?"

She nodded towards the unconscious prisoner.  "They meant to 
send the Reikoku after him.  They'll want to know it didn't 
work the way they planned.  That has to be worth something."

"They may kill him if they get him," Ryouga said quietly.

"I know."

The two martial artists let this thought hang in the space 
between them for several minutes, both of them mulling it over 
in their own way.  As much harm as Happosai had done to them 
and to people they cherished, condemning a man to death was 
not a thought that settled easily into the conscience.  The 
fact that the old bastard had basically sentenced Ranma to die 
in order to save his soiled hide only went so far in 
alleviating the burden of their choice.  

Ukyou finally broke the silence.  "Well, I think he's secured, 
but we should take turns keeping watch over him just in case.  
You wanna sleep first, sugar?"

"No, you go ahead," the Lost Boy answered.  "I'll wake you up 
after my shift."

"All right."  She shifted to rise, but paused first.  "Hey, 
Ryouga."

"Hmm?" 

She cocked her head at him, her dark eyes glittering in the 
orange radiance of the campfire.  "You know what you said 
earlier, when the perv was trying to get under my skin?"

"Yeah?" Ryouga scratched his head.  "Well... you did the same 
for me.  You have my thanks."

"That's not quite what I... oh, never mind."  She smiled 
softly, rising to her feet.  On an impulse, she bent over and 
kissed him on the top of his head as he sat there on his 
watch, a gesture so feather-light that he didn't even feel it 
through the thickness of his hair.  "Don't stay up too long," 
she whispered, then made her way through the darkness to her 
bed.

- - - - - 

Natsume inspected the results of her labors and allowed 
herself a tight, nervous smile. The Home Economics class 
bustled around her, all the girls busy with their assortment 
of cooking projects. She picked up one of the cookies she'd 
made, nibbled an edge off one of the star-shaped confections, 
and nodded to herself.

<Very chewy,> she thought, satisfied. <Just what I need.>

Her gaze darted over the room, scanning for her little sister. 
Kurumi wasn't in this class with her, but had a tendency to 
drop in and see her whenever she had a free moment... 
especially when there was food involved. Normally, she loved 
to cook for Kurumi, and her sister naturally assumed that 
anything she made would be fair game for immediate devouring. 
Today, though, she had another recipient in mind for her 
cooking.

Natsume gathered the caramel-coated cookies onto a plate and 
slipped quietly out of the classroom.

Though she wouldn't have admitted it under any sort of 
torture, she had spent the past several days stalking Kunou 
Tatewaki in preparation for this. Her task had been doubly 
tricky - in part because it was hard to keep away from her 
sister, but also because Kunou seemed to spend a fair amount 
of his own time looking for her. 

This had been pretty jarring at first. Kunou had a tendency to 
burst out of nowhere and... express his affection. The 
attempted hugs were one thing - she could deal with those, and 
even found them a bit charming. The poetry, though, was a 
problem.

He composed something new for her at least twice a day. He had 
an aggravating tendency to erupt out of a bush or from behind 
a door just as she was in the middle of something, and then 
launch into a recitation of his latest creation. Somehow, 
she'd managed to escape each time - either by pounding him 
before he really got going, covering her ears, or running like 
a bat out of Hell. 

Natsume was beginning to go a little nuts with all this. At 
this pace, it was only a matter of time before he caught her 
flat-footed with one of his volleys of bad verse, and then her 
weakness would be obvious for anybody to see. He'd already 
flattened her once with a bad poem in front of the entire 
student body, and Kurumi's cover story had left something to 
be desired. If he did it a second time, people would start to 
get what was going on.

A martial artist with a crippling weakness had to look out for 
herself.

The adopted Tendou had marked Kunou's patterns, and now was as 
good a time as any to catch him alone as walked between his 
Kendo Club practice and his next class. She needed to shut him 
up long enough to convince him to quit with the poetry. That 
was where the cookies came in.

She crouched behind a dense hedge, peering out between the 
leaves at the path. Right on time, the young swordsman strode 
into view, gaze cast slightly upwards as if he were 
contemplating the will of heaven. <Which, knowing him, he 
probably is,> she mused. It was time to move.

Natsume leaped into action.

"Ah! Most fair Tendou Natsume!" Kunou exclaimed in delight. "I 
have just finished my latest poem for..."

She struck with blinding speed and pinpoint accuracy. The 
cookie hissed through the air and landed dead-center in 
Kunou's open mouth. It was, fortunately, a pretty easy target.

"Mmmpfh!" the swordsman managed around the mouthful of sticky 
cookie.

As Natsume faced her amorous admirer, she felt a flush 
creeping into her cheeks. <Oh no... not now!> Most people 
didn't realize it, but she actually felt rather shy around 
boys in these kinds of situations. It wasn't a problem in 
combat or normal day-to-day stuff, but the moment a hint of 
romance entered the picture, her tongue tied itself into 
knots.

"Um..." she heard herself say. "So, are they good? I made them 
for you." <Moron!> she regaled herself. <Don't think about 
THAT! Even though this is the first time you've ever cooked 
for a boy...>

Kunou swallowed his mouthful, then struck an expansive pose. 
"Magnificent!" he declared. "Truly, the warmth of a woman's 
heart can be measured by the joy she feels when cooking for 
her beloved! In fact, this truth inspires me to compose a 
poem. 'Oh tender warmmmmpfh!'"

Her caramel-saturated missile clogged his attempts at verse. 
She felt a convulsive shudder pass through her - she'd let him 
get a few words of poetry off. <Stay focused, girl,> she told 
herself. "I'm glad... you like the cookies, Kunou-sempai."

"Mmm-mmmrf!"

"And I really am... glad. That you want to date me." Her 
cheeks burned.

"Mmmm... >gulp< Aaah! Most lovely of..."

She plugged his mouth with another well-aimed cookie before he 
could get going again. "But there's one problem."

"Mmrrf?"

"I need... you to stop with the poetry."

"Mrr-mmfmf? Mmfff?"

"It's not your fault," she continued quickly, trying furiously 
not to blush. "It's just... I don't like poetry. That's all."

"Mm..." Kunou swallowed hard, wiping crumbs away from his 
mouth. "But my beloved! Did I not hear true, that you gave an 
impassioned discourse on the importance of quality in poetry 
in Miss Hinako's class?"

"Uh... well, yes," she admitted. "I did do that."

"Did your voice not raise high above the tumult of the 
unwashed peasantry, speaking like a writ from the heavens on 
how poetry of worth should be cherished, for bad poetry should 
ne'er be tolerated?"

She sighed. "Yes. Yes, I did say that."

"And what of the 30-page paper thou did author..."

"Okay!" Natsume interrupted. "I can't stand BAD poetry! That's 
the problem!"

He looked stricken. "Then..."

She hid her eyes under her bangs. "I'm... sorry. I don't mean 
to say your poetry is bad. I mean, it's all subjective, right? 
I just... react very strongly. I..."

"Is mine verse so offensive to thine ears?" Kunou lamented. 
"Can the muse of the Supercharged Shogun of Furinkan High 
truly speak with a tin voice?"

The adopted Tendou waved her hand placatingly. "Don't be so 
hard on yourself! It's only..."

"I cannot accept it!" the swordsman proclaimed. "Tendou 
Natsume... listen to this!"

She reached for another cookie... only to find her fingernails 
scrabbling against a bare plate. Natsume looked down, aghast, 
and saw her little sister standing beside her. Kurumi's cheeks 
bulged with a payload caramel-coated confections - crumbs 
tumbled down her chin as she gnawed the huge sugary bolus in 
her mouth. 

"You ate them!" Natsume shouted in despair. "You ate them 
ALL!"

Kurumi turned to face her, eyes dreamy and half-lidded with 
glucose-induced bliss. Sometimes, it could be a real pain to 
have a sister who was a champion food thief, she thought. She 
drew back to throw the empty plate at Kunou, but it was too 
late. He had already begun.

     "Though I go to you
      ceaselessly along dream paths,
      the sum of those trysts
      is less than a single glimpse
      granted in the waking world."

The plate slowly dropped to her side as she listened, all the 
tension flowing out of her muscles. It was all she could do to 
remain on her feet as she listened, her heart moved with 
wonder. She even forgot to blush. "That... that's beautiful," 
she whispered.

Oddly, Kunou looked a bit disappointed. "Ah. Yes. Yes, it is."

"What's wrong?"

He turned away slightly and uttered a weary sigh. "Indeed, 
'tis one of my favorite love poems. But alas, it is not one of 
my own. That verse 'twas crafted in the 9th century by Ono no 
Komachi."

"Oh," Natsume said, a bit confused. "I don't see why that's a 
problem..."

"Do you not?" he asked. "Fairest maiden, I could see the joy 
blooming in your eyes when you listened to that verse. Would 
that my own compositions had such an effect upon thee!"

She tried a reassuring smile. "You shouldn't let that worry 
you..."

"ALAS!" Kunou bellowed, nearly startling her off her feet. "I 
cannot rest until I compose a poem worthy of thy love!"

"Oh no..."

She tried to stop him, but he began too quickly for her to 
act. Before she knew what was happening, she found herself in 
the convulsive grips of her allergy to bad poetry.

     "There once was a maiden named Tendou
      Who was belov'd by a master of kendo
      She had keen, piercing eyes
      Lithe and muscular thighs
      A firm bust, and a shapely rear-end-o...AAAAaaaah!"

The sound of Kunou's voice receded as his body arched off into 
the distance, propelled by Kurumi's surprisingly fierce 
uppercut. The young girl turned to her prone sister, looking a 
bit sheepish. "Uh... sorry I didn't catch him earlier," she 
apologized. "Those were good cookies, though!"

"T... thanks," Natsume replied through clenched teeth. <I 
guess love is never easy,> she mused ruefully.

- - - - -

Ranma felt the first tremble of fear through his body, and he 
knew that he was in trouble. <Not now,> he thought 
desperately. <Oh man, why NOW?>

The flames of the burning building around him didn't frighten 
him. He could heat his body aura to the point that he could 
navigate the burning inn safely, with a scarf around his mouth 
to filter out the fumes. Rescuing the child trapped on the 
upper floor didn't frighten him - with his cold aura, he knew 
he could keep the kid safe from the flames in a cocoon of cool 
air while he got her out. 

But the aura he felt was the Reikoku's, and that chilled his 
heart. 

He'd taken a gamble trying the mountain pass this late in the 
year, he knew. The thick snows slowed him down to a crawl, 
forcing him to forego sleep and travel through the night hours 
in order to keep ahead of the Reikoku. His map was woefully 
inadequate in showing him the right route to take, so he'd 
been forced to pick his way and hope for the best. Fatigue, 
numbing cold, and the relentless pursuer at his heels pushed 
Ranma to the very edge of his stamina.

He would have made it, though, if it hadn't been for the fire. 
He'd crested the peak, made it about halfway down the 
treacherous pass, and come to a little mountain town along the 
road just as night was falling. He had intended just to grab a 
bite to eat and press on down the mountain until he reached 
the river, where he'd hoped to find a ride on a boat to put 
some distance between himself and the Reikoku. But a fire had 
broken out in the kitchen of the 2-story inn, and quickly 
spread to consume the entire building. 

It was all the locals could do to protect the rest of the town 
from catching. The victims in the upper floor of the building 
had been sleeping, and many didn't have the time to get out. 
Ranma had rushed to the aid of the rescuers, knowing that his 
superior physical skills and his command of hot and cold auras 
could make the difference for the lives of those trapped.

He'd saved three people already. The fourth, the last one 
trapped in the blaze, clutched him with tiny hands as he 
bolted through the inferno toward safety. The girl was maybe 
four years old at the most, yet she didn't cry out as the 
burning beam nearly fell on them. Once Ranma had taken hold of 
her, she had instinctively put her absolute trust in his 
ability to protect her. 

He had to run, but he couldn't abandon these people.

<It's okay,> he told himself, smashing through a burning door 
and leaping for the window. <I drop the girl, then bolt down 
the slopes toward the river. I can still make it!>

With a terrific leap, he reached the ice-slicked road outside 
the collapsing inn. The girl's mother, soot-covered and 
frantic with fear, lurched toward them to take her daughter in 
her embrace. The little girl, who had been so quiet and brave 
in the heat of the flame, began screeching in terror as her 
mother rocked her back and forth. The mother's primal wails 
mixed with her daughter's to a piercing chorus of hysteria.

<Geez,> Ranma thought. <You think they'd be better now that 
the kid's safe...> Then, he felt the hair rising on the back 
of his neck, and a low growl rose unbidden from his throat. 
<It ain't about the fire,> he realized. <It's the Reikoku. 
They can feel it.>

He turned to bolt, but as his gaze passed over the scramble of 
townspeople battling the fire, he paused. The locals with 
buckets and shovels were all that stood between the fire and 
the rest of the town, yet they were beginning to panic as 
well. The grime-covered foreman in charge of the effort was 
bellowing his orders over the growing din of panicked shrieks 
from the victims. The firefighters themselves looked at the 
blaze with wide, terror-filled eyes. A bucket fell from the 
fingers of one man and splashed uselessly across the road.

They didn't know what was happening - the natural fear in the 
situation simply grew out of proportion as the Reikoku 
approached. But it was sowing chaos throughout the little 
village at a time when they most needed to come together in an 
orderly way.

Ranma looked down the slope, which he knew led to the river 
far below. If he took off that way, the Reikoku would follow 
him along the path he'd come. That meant it would head 
straight through the heart of town. And he knew what would 
happen if it did - panic would overcome these people, and 
their entire village would be consumed by the unchecked 
flames. How many would die in the inferno?

He couldn't let that happen. 

There was only one choice. Ranma turned and bolted back the 
way he'd come, back up the slope of the mountain. He had to 
cut across the Reikoku's path, draw it off at a different 
angle. He would need to lead it down a different path, away 
from the village. It would be hard - the snow was heavier on 
the other faces of the mountain, the descent steeper and 
strewn with obstacles - but what could he do? He couldn't let 
these people die just so he could escape.

<I can make it!> he assured himself, bracing against the 
rising tide of fear inside him as he churned through the snow 
back up the mountain path. A phantom stench of fish filled his 
nostrils as the Reikoku's aura intensified. He fought the urge 
to drop to all fours as he ran. 

<I ain't gonna let it turn me into a cat,> he though angrily, 
resisting with all his will. The light of the flame receded as 
he drew farther away from the town, but he could still see 
quite well by the bright glow of the moon. He couldn't spot 
the Reikoku in all the snow and jagged spires of rock, but he 
could feel it. He curled his fingers into claws and slashed at 
the snow as he ran.

He cut away from the path, charging out into the snow, making 
his way along the mountain face to the slope that would lead 
him down. Slivers of ice hurtled away like ribbons of 
excelsior, cut away by the ki-claws of his Neko-ken power. He 
heard himself let out a yowl of anger. Why was he running? His 
enemy was back there, taunting him, challenging him, filling 
the world with the smell of fish...

<Hold on!> he told himself, desperately struggling to keep his 
mind human. <Gotta go faster! Gotta pull away...>

But he couldn't go faster. The snow was almost up to his 
chest, and he was so tired. It felt like days since he'd 
gotten a wink of sleep, and his limbs already ached with 
weariness from his arduous trek across the mountains. He 
coughed painfully, his lungs still stinging from the fumes of 
the blaze at the inn, and heard his cough turn into a hiss of 
rage.

<I... ain't gonna make it,> he thought. He was going slower 
than the Reikoku's shambling gait now, and his human will 
crumbled further with each step. It was going to catch up to 
him soon, but his mind would be long gone when it did.

In the distance, he faintly heard the sound of the town 
foreman belting out orders to his men. Hearty shouts of 
affirmation greeted the calls from the firefighters. Their 
confidence had returned, and they were working together again. 
They'd stop the fire from spreading, at least. <I did that 
much right,> he thought wearily. 

His cat self uncoiled in his mind, blotting out all trace of 
human thought. Neko-Ranma dropped to all fours, eyes blazing 
as he turned to face his approaching enemy. He raised his back 
to look more fearsome, flexing his razor-sharp claws in 
preparation for the upcoming fight. He felt tired, but a cat 
never let weakness show. That whatever-it-was back there was 
going to get it now, he thought. He advanced, ready to fight, 
ready to slash...

"Here, kitty! Come here, kitty-kitty!"

That voice...

Neko-Ranma recognized that voice. It was HER! His person was 
here! 

That changed things, the kitty-consciousness thought. The 
black-horrible-thing may still be out there, but he had to go 
see his person. She'd need his help, after all. And maybe 
she'd make the thing go away. He twitched his ears, orienting 
on the sound of the familiar voice of his person, and then 
leaped with a happy yowl.

She was there, standing on some kind of board or something in 
the snow. Another person was there, and Neko-Ranma recognized 
her by scent immediately. That person was okay, if a little 
scary sometimes, but the other wasn't the one he wanted. He 
wanted HER, the sweet one, the one who loved him. 

And she wanted him, too. She held out her arms to him and 
caught him as he leaped, cradling him close to her warmth.

"Why is he like this?" she asked the other. At some level, 
Neko-Ranma understood the words, though the cat-self didn't 
really care.

"No time!" the other said. The other was also on one of those 
flat things that let her stand on the snow. "Can feel the 
Reikoku getting close. We run now, Akane-san!"

"Right!"

The two turned, and suddenly they were flying across the snow. 
The flat things they stood on slid across the pristine white, 
carrying them with stomach-dropping speed down the steep 
slope. 

The aura of terror which held Neko-Ranma in its grip abated as 
they gained distance from the creature that pursued them. As 
the need to fight diminished, the boy-cat felt fatigue settle 
into his bones. He wanted nothing more than to sleep in the 
safe embrace of his person, but she kept shifting back and 
forth on that board thing as they hurtled across the snow. 
There were a lot of rocks in the way, and they almost hit a 
few...

"Hold up, Shampoo!" called his person. "We're switching!"

They skidded to a halt. His person peeled his paws off her, in 
spite of his yowling protests, and handed him over to the 
other girl. The other girl secured him in her grasp. "Why we 
switch?" she asked.

"Too many rocks," his person said. "I'll clear the path, you 
follow. Change him into a girl so he's smaller - that should 
make it easier to steer."

"Okay!" 

His person turned away as he howled plaintively, and suddenly 
cold water splashed over his head. 

Ranma-chan spluttered, her mind reeling as the Jusenkyou curse 
took effect. Now that they were away from terror field of the 
Reikoku, the shock of the change was enough to snap her out of 
her cat-self. She only remembered bits and pieces of what had 
just happened. 

"Akane?" she choked. "Sh... Shampoo?"

"You better?" came the Amazon girl's voice. "Is good."

"What... what's going on?"

"We going," Shampoo told him. "Only got two snowboards, so you 
have to be carried. Hold on, Ranma-san..."

<Since when does Shampoo call me "Ranma-san?"> She tried to 
frame a question about that, her mind reeling from the sudden 
turn of events, when a sudden burst of motion took her breath 
away. The Chinese girl launched herself down the slope on the 
snowboard, following the path that Akane blazed across the 
white expanse of pristine snow. Ranma-chan could see the 
course was treacherous, full of sharp drops and pitfalls - and 
especially dangerous for the jagged spires of rock that jutted 
up from the snow. 

Ranma-chan felt her breath hitch as they entered a narrow 
pass, blocked off by an ugly spike of black rock directly in 
their path. <We're gonna hit!> she thought anxiously. Akane 
was steering right down the middle, the lunatic...

"BAKUSAI TEN-KETSU!" 

Ranma-chan gaped in sheer astonishment. That was Akane - 
AKANE... but she really did use the breaking point. The stone 
in their path burst into thousands of fragments at a single 
touch of Akane's finger, clearing their way into an open field 
of snow. <No way,> she thought. <It's a dream. How can that 
clumsy chick possibly have learned...>

Akane was anything but clumsy. She sped down the steep white 
slope of the mountain like a rocket, carving a path through 
the fresh powder for Shampoo to follow. When a rock blocked 
their path, she blasted it into smithereens with the Bakusai 
Ten-Ketsu. A thousand questions rose in Ranma-chan's mind, but 
she couldn't find her voice to ask a single one. She held onto 
Shampoo with all of her flagging strength and simply watched 
in bewildered awe as her fiancee blazed a safe path down the 
mountain face.

"There's a ravine coming up!" Akane shouted back. "Break 
right, Shampoo!"

"Can we jump?" the Amazon cried back.

"Too far," the Tendou girl answered. She sounded excited, 
bursting with energy. "See those power lines? We'll grind 'em 
over! Follow me!"

"I follow!" Shampoo shouted back. Ranma-chan heard her mutter 
under her breath: "Crazy girl." Yet the Amazon's voice sounded 
almost admiring.

Akane led them on a course parallel to the ravine, then with a 
sudden leap that made Ranma-chan cry out in shock, she hurled 
herself into the blackness of the canyon. But as she'd said, a 
power line snaked its way up the mountainside on tall poles 
across the ravine, within jumping distance at the edge of the 
chasm. Akane landed with her snowboard lengthwise along one 
of the steel cables and began to slide.

Shampoo grunted with effort as she mimicked the leap, her 
knees absorbing the shock of impact as the snowboard slammed 
down on the cable. Ranma-chan wasn't surprised that Shampoo 
could make a leap like that, even burdened with a passenger - 
the Amazon girl had strength and agility to spare. But 
Akane...

Sure, Ranma-chan had seen Akane skateboard before, and she'd 
been reasonably good at it. The skill wasn't too different 
from snowboarding. She could ice skate and ski too - but never 
at this level of mastery. The Akane that Ranma-chan knew would 
never have made that jump.

And yet there she was, grinding down the ice-slicked steel 
cable like it was nothing, her snowboard kicking up a trail of 
sparks in the wake of her passage. She hopped her board over 
every junction spot where the cable was anchored to a support 
pole, landing with ease after each transition. She even 
started to throw in twists between jumps.

"Fifty-fifty rail!" Akane shouted, laughing.

<She's... enjoying this!> Ranma-chan thought incredulously. 
The youngest Tendou reached the other side of the ravine, then 
leaped off the power line toward open snow. As she descended, 
she flipped and spun in the air, pulling off some kind of 
twisting somersault before she touched down on the snow.

"Combo!" she cried in glee as she sped down the slope.

She'd been training - that much was obvious to Ranma-chan - 
but it was more than that. She had found something in herself 
that Ranma-chan hadn't seen for a long time, almost since 
they'd first met. Tendou Akane had found her confidence again.

Confidence was a martial artist's greatest ally. It let you 
transcend your physical limits, pull off moves and attacks 
with authority, and achieve all the techniques you'd practiced 
in a real fight, when it counted. Whether it came across as 
cocky arrogance or quiet inner strength, every great martial 
artist had a well of deep confidence upon which they could 
draw when battle came.

Akane had lacked that. She had tried to cover with a sort of 
false bravado that tended to collapse when she was under 
pressure, but somewhere along the way, she had lost the 
confidence in herself that the other martial artists in Nerima 
all possessed.  

<Lost it along the way, huh?> Ranma-chan asked herself, her 
inner voice harsh in her mind. <You TOOK that away, buddy. You 
came in and got a huge kick out of being better than her at 
everything she cared about. You tore her down and made fun of 
her at every opportunity. You just picked and picked and 
picked away at her confidence, like some kind of damned water 
torture. That was YOU, Saotome Ranma.>

Tears crystallized on her cheeks in the icy cold. <But look at 
her now,> she thought. <Just look at her.>

Ranma-chan didn't know what Akane had done to train while 
she'd been in China, running from the Reikoku. She'd clearly 
done the Bakusai Ten-Ketsu training, but it seemed she'd done 
a lot more than that as well. Whatever had happened, she'd 
recovered all the confidence she'd lost, and then some. Ranma-
chan could see it in her every move, in the reckless arrogance 
of her bearing as she attacked the dangerous slope, in the 
scintillating blue of her battle aura as she tore through the 
rocks in their path.

Tendou Akane shone like an angel.

The tears threatened to freeze Ranma-chan's eyes shut. She 
rubbed them away with her sleeve. <I never realized what I 
took away from you,> she thought, not even trying to stop her 
sobs. <Akane... I've been such an idiot. I swear to you, I 
swear... things will be different.>

"Shampoo, look!" Akane called back. "There's a river barge!"

The river had come into view below them, winding its way 
between the mountains with a frosting of ice on each bank. A 
large, ugly boat, heavy in the water with her cargo, chugged 
along the surface of the water.

"We can make it!" Akane shouted. "We have to book it, though!"

"Don't slow down for Shampoo!" the Amazon girl piped back. 

"Hurry!"

Akane tucked into a crouch, speeding like an arrow down the 
slope. A lip of snow-covered stone rose in her path, forming a 
natural ramp. She hit the ramp at the perfect angle, launching 
herself in the air toward the barge on the river, and landed 
her board with a loud SMACK on the aft deck.

Burdened by Ranma-chan, Shampoo's couldn't quite control her 
approach as perfectly. Their trajectory was off by just a 
fraction, but as they sailed toward the river, Ranma-chan 
realized they were heading towards the frothing wake of foam 
churned up by the ship's propellers. She braced herself for 
impact in the freezing waters...

...and felt strong hands catch them just before they hit. 
Akane, leaning out from the rail, snagged the flying pair out 
of the air, then chucked them back onto the deck. 

Shampoo let her drop to the deck - Ranma-chan's legs felt so 
weak that she could barely stand on her own. Akane moved in 
beside her for support as Shampoo let go. <Wonder what's the 
deal with the scarf?> Ranma-chan thought dizzily, staring at 
silken cloth wrapped around the Amazon girl's head.

"I go explain things to boat crew," Shampoo said. Men from the 
ship had begun to approach them, rather startled by their 
unorthodox arrival. "You take care of Ranma-san, yes?"

"Thanks, Shampoo," Akane said warmly. The Amazon turned and 
began speaking to the crewmen in Chinese.

<Shampoo and Akane working together?> Ranma-chan thought, her 
mind reeling with questions even as the fatigue from her 
exertions threatened to overwhelm her. <Akane... learning the 
breaking point? Both of them here in China, looking for me?> 
She clutched Akane, both for support and for the simple joy of 
seeing her again, in spite of all the danger. The only 
question she managed to croak out was: "What... is going on 
here?"

Akane smiled at her and hugged her back.  Ranma-chan felt 
herself sliding into unconsciousness as she heard her 
fiancee's answer. "What do you think, you dummy? I came here 
to save you."

- - - - - -



                    end of part fourteen...

-----------------------------------------------------------
                      AUTHOR'S NOTES
-----------------------------------------------------------

The potion, Widow's Blood, is a tip of the hat to my
favorite fantasy series, "A Song of Fire and Ice" by 
George R. R. Martin.

Anyway... 

Here it is! The longest-awaited chapter in "Relentless." 
In order to prevent a wait of several YEARS from forming
between this chapter and the next, I have taken the 
precaution of writing the rest of the story before I 
released anything else. 

My profound thanks and gratitude to all those who have stuck
with me through this long, very dry spell.

And now, I can actually say with certainty that the next
chapter is...


COMING SOON:  Ranma, Akane, and Shampoo together again... can
they come up with a solution to Ranma's cat-fist problem? 
Ryouga and Ukyou follow their dangerous guide back to Japan,
and to the secret temple where all this began. And Nabiki
gets more than she bargained for when she takes a night off
work with Konatsu...

COPYRIGHT STUFF:  All the Ranma characters belong to Takahashi 
Rumiko,and are licensed in America by Viz Communications.    

GRT - April 2005
Thunderstruck_comic@comcast.net

All existing chapters of this story may be found at:
http://www.talesfromthevault.com/relentless





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