Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even my shoes.

Chapter 7 � Object Lessons
 
One ajar slat was sufficient to allow a minute stream of light to dance 
its ways across the frowzy room. Like the eyes of a single portrait on a 
wall, the little invading ray inevitably found its way to the exposed 
eye line of the vulnerable figure that lay prostrate on the floor. The 
beam sought not the tanning of the eyelids of the motionless martial 
artist, but the roasting of the frangible organs that lay behind them. 
Before the eager shaft could prove that not all gigantic fiery heavenly 
bodies of flaring gas have purely benign intentions, the sprawled form 
gradually sat up. He loosed a grunt less indicative of rising from a
refreshing night�s sleep, than say, recovering from spatula induced 
unconsciousness.
 
Genma groaned as he became aware not only of the throbbing resulting 
from cranium/blunt instrument interaction, but of the congenital soreness 
and aching that results from spending one�s night face down in the 
�promise-pose� position. It was a wonder that his fingers hadn�t cramped. 
Grimacing, Genma alternated between patting gently at his abused skull, 
and inefficiently fumbling around in search of his wayward spectacles.
A little over a minute of myopic prodding resulted in success. The elder 
Saotome groggily replaced his glasses and glared balefully at the softly 
breathing form of his �son�, loosely curled into a one-hundred pound 
ball beneath her musty blanket. Still scowling he prepared to snort 
disgustedly. For a true snort should not be performed on the fly, but 
requires preparation and technique, heck, Tendo�s remarkable �Demon Head� 
ki illusionary �attack�, was in essence, simply an insanely exaggerated 
snort. He aimed at his rhythmically snoring offspring.
 
Snoring?
 
His eyes focused opportunistically. With a grin betraying but a fraction 
of his experience and competence in such pursuits, Genma began to 
lightly pad his way to his son�s large travelling pack.
 
He had the pack partially open when he _felt_ a floorboard being thread upon, 
immediately followed by a hiss. �Pops, catch!� Genma knew that for his 
own body�s sake he�d best do just that. The man spun with a speed 
belying his massive girth. In the same motion, he confidently plucked 
the spinning spatula out of the air, just in time to use it to block 
Ukyo�s downward stroke with her own weapon. The brunette grinned as 
Genma parried her second swipe and, with jarring quickness, swept low at 
her feet. She leaped above the attack as best she could in the confines 
of the hotel room, while making as little noise as possible. Ukyo 
grasped the ceiling desperately with her free arm, avoiding Genma�s 
following uppercut. �Come on, Pops! Granny Kuonji could�ve dodged that 
attack,� she blustered in false display of bravado, attempting to rile 
up her larger opponent. Genma was having none of it. He silently 
sidestepped her attempted landing lunge on his head. Ukyo recovered and 
nimbly rolled behind Genma. The girl lashed out with a flowing back kick, 
which he somehow twisted his way around to use his own near forgotten 
spatula to disarm the surprised chef. Her spatula clanged softly on the 
dust-cushioned floor.
 
The bald martial artist grinned cockily as he leveled Ukyo�s second 
heavy spatula at her. When it came tosparring, Ukyo knew that Pops 
preferred to use the weapon as more of a defensive tool (not that he 
was unable to use just about any weapon to attack with great proficiency) 
opting to rely on his body to do the attacking. Despite this, once he�d 
disarmed an opponent, they were in a world of trouble if happened to be 
holding a weapon - just as Ukyo recognized she was in now.
 
She had to give it to Pops. He�d been waking both Ranma and she at pre-
dawn hours for sparring as long as they could both remember, and yet 
when they returned the favour (which they�d quite taken quite avidly to 
in the past few years), he invariably turned the tables on them and 
administered a lesson limning why they were the students and he the 
teacher.
 
Genma made to thrust the hefty weapon straight at Ukyo. She dodged left 
to avoid being run through; too late deducing that he�d merely feinted.
She desperately brought up both arms to block the incoming punch as best 
as she could. His right fist crashed heavily into the young chef (let it
never be said that Genma Saotome pulled his punches). Ukyo cushioned the
blow with a back spring into the hotel wall, from which she launched 
herself at her surprised foe. Unfortunately for the teen, surprise does 
not necessarily equal lack of readiness. Genma discarded the weapon he 
held and adroitly fell backward into a roll.She gasped ashe used her own 
momentum to extemporaneously tossher beyond him on a direct course for 
the room�s single rickety window.
 
Genma wasn�t the only one caught unawares when a red blur intercepted 
the airborne okonomiyaki chef. The burly fighter briskly righted himself, 
and adopted the deceptively casual stance associated with the Anything 
Goes School. Rather than the anticipated barrage, Ranma treated her 
companions to a tremendous yawn, still holding Ukyo in her small arms. 
Genma couldn�t help but grin internally at the near comical spectacle 
of the bantam figure cradling the much larger Ukyo to her chest.
Panting rapidly, her heavy breathing not entirely due to her reveille-
spar, Ukyo gulped �Th-thanks, Ranchan.� Ranma blinked away the last 
vestiges of sleep and looked down at the chef she held. With her reduced
stature, Ranma was unable to keep Ukyo�s braid from snaking its way down 
to the floor, so she carefully avoided threading on it as she moved to 
the bed to lay the chef down.
 
�S'no prob, Ucchan,� replied Ranma modestly, as the brunette sat up. 
�You�d have done the same to me � I mean, _for_ me! I mean...� Ukyo 
giggled as to the redhead�s dismay, Ranma began to blush visibly despite 
the dim illumination of the room. Turning to Genma, who was still 
expectantly awaiting an assault, the taller girl cheerfully commented,
 
�Great spar, Pops,� stretching, audibly cracking a few joints in the 
process. �I�ve got to take a shower now,� she added with a smile that 
was far too sweet in Genma�s opinion, as she headed towards the dubious 
WC that contained the room�s shower. The large martial artist glanced at 
his child in unconcealed readiness. Genma winced a little, then a lot, 
at the calculating expression he found there.
 
He... she was giving him The Look.
 
Until those confounded springs, Genma hadn�t had to suffer through The 
Look in over ten years. Unfortunately, a decade hadn�t served to dull 
the razor�s edge of utter dread that The Look unerringly sliced into the 
bald martial artist. Genma felt somewhat like an earthworm before a 
sparrow... No, reconsidered the elder Saotome. That analogy was 
insufficient. He felt likean earthworm before a six-year old. At least 
the bird wouldn�t prolong the torture.
 
Feeling significantly less sure of himself, Genma croaked,
 
�Aren�t you going to spar, er...boy?� Ranma frowned. �B-but of course 
you don�t have to if you don�t want to.�
 
�I�m surprised you haven�t woken up the entire hotel with your first 
spar,� she commented flatly. Genma began visibly sweating.
 
�B-but Ukyo started...�
 
�I don�t care who started it. You�re supposed to be an adult, aint�cha?� 
she asked plaintively. The lapse into rougher speech helped quell 
Genma�s conditioned terror a little, but not enough to interrupt his 
admonishment. �And I don�t wanna get kicked outta here before I can 
shower.� She sighed, as though resigning herself to doing something 
distasteful. �Now, c�mere, I�ve got something to give you.� She motioned 
him to move closer to her pack. The Look transformed into The Glare as 
she discovered that �someone� had already tampered with her pack. Genma 
had to bite his lip as a squeak of fright fought to escape him. He had 
been following like a scolded schoolboy and nearly melted under the 
piercing gaze of the choleric redhead. Ranma rummaged through her pack, 
quickly examining the contents to ensure everything was as it should 
have been. Producing a particular box, she presented Genma with an 
undecorated blue bar of soap. He gulped.
 
�Is that...?�
 
�Yeah, that�s the waterproof soap.� Genma stood dumbfounded, as she 
nonchalantly tossed it to him. In his surprised state, he nearly 
fumbled the catch. �You can go in after Ucchan,� she said, indicating 
the shower with a nod. �Remember to use warm water, or you�ll be stuck 
as a panda.�
 
_There_ was an idea that hadn�t struck Ranma during her plotting with 
their fianc�e the night before. 'Nah', she dismissed the thought. It�d 
be too cruel considering what was going to happen later. Ranma watched 
as her father�s eyes widened as he clutched the soap to his chest 
greedily, eyeing the door to the shower.
 
When Ukyo emerged from the shower in male form a few minutes later, 
Genma�s face fell. Heh, Ranma could almost feel sorry for the old man.
 
�Don�t worry Pops,� hummed Ukyo in a placating tone in his just slightly 
deeper than usual voice. He pointed a slender thumb over his shoulder. 

�There�s only enough hot water in the boiler for one shower, so Ranchan 
and I thought we�d do you a favour.� Ranma nodded in a fallaciously 
innocent manner, which under other circumstances would have signaled to 
Genma that something was rotten in the state of Denmark. However, he 
sensed nothing amiss, preoccupied as he was with his apparent good 
fortune.
 
�Ah, that�s my boy!� declared Genma jovially, smacking Ukyo on the 
shoulder hard enough to win the stuffed animal at even the most 
tightfisted of fairground exhibitions, before grabbing a towel. Soon, 
the sounds of hissing water and Genma�s less than lovely singing voice 
(imagine Yma Sumac if she were a chunky Japanese Martial Artist with a 
penchant for Perry Como) emitted from the WC.
 
Ignoring the cacophonous wailing, Ranma turned to Ukyo, who was 
awkwardly drying his hair while trying to avoiding dislodging the 
Dragon�s Whisker.
 
�Is the water really...?� she trailed.
 
�Yep,� nodded Ukyo with his eyes. �There�s a meter in there and 
everything.�
 
�Damn,� grumbled the redhead, �and I was looking forward toa hot shower.� 
She looked appraisingly at Ukyo. �Do you want me to help you with that?� 
indicating Ukyo�s ungainly efforts to dry his pythonic braid.
 
�Could you, Ranchan?� he asked gratefully. She nodded agreeably.
 
�Sure, just gimme a sec,� she mumbled, as she threw open the window 
shutter fully, allowing dawn light to spill into the stale smelling 
room. Ranma turned...and stared at the chestnut highlights that shimmered 
and rolled throughout the mass of Ukyo�s dark hair. They moved with Ukyo,
reminding Ranma of Christmas Lights.
 
�Sugoi...� she exhaled. Forest green eyes regarded the redhead curiously.
 
�What is it, Honey?� he asked solicitously. Ranma blinked. Then blinked 
again, clasping her hands behind her back as soon as she felt her index 
fingers rubbing together.
 
�Ah, nuthin�.� Ukyo raised an inquisitive eyebrow, obviously unconvinced. 
Ranma agitatedly mumbled, �It�s just that your hair looks, uh, it ah, 
looks really, y�know, pretty?� She released a deepbreath, her shoulders 
slackened slightly. She perked up again when Ukyo returned a sincere 
smile.
 
Ukyo beamed at the compliment. Especially when it was coming from 
somebody, who made him plain by comparison.
 
�Thank you, Ranchan,� replied Ukyo. �That, uh, means a lot,� he 
admitted. The okonomiyaki chef patted his chest with the back of his 
hand in what he hoped was a distracting manner. He looked up again at 
the sound of Ranma...giggling? Yes. A full on and  _terribly_ amused 
giggle. Quite obviously aimed at Ukyo. �Er, what?� he asked glancing 
about plaintively. Ranma continued to laugh unabashedly, pointing a 
small finger at the chef�s midriff, while trying unsuccessfully to clap 
her mouth shut with her other hand. �Just tell me, you jackass,� he 
demanded. He glimpsed down at where he�d patted himself a moment ago, 
to see his towel he had hunkered up around him to his armpits. �Ahh,� 
he murmured, as his ears began to burn. �It�s not funny, Ranchan,� he 
stated adamantly.
 
�Hell yeah it is!� she exclaimed affably. Ukyo couldn�t maintain the 
scowl on his features for long and laughed with her.
 
�Alright, Ranchan, Happy Hour is over,� he announced a minute or so 
later, as took a seat on the bed, �and you still haven�t dried my hair,�
he pointed out suggestively.
 
�Okay, okay,� grumbled the redhead without any heat, as she smiled 
contentedly.
 
Grabbing a towel propped herself bodily on the bed. The small girl took 
up a kneeling position behind Ukyo. Ranma began near the Dragon�s 
Whisker, thoroughly drying the area around the unassuming looking string, 
before moving to her fianc�s scalp. Methodically, Ranma rolled the 
towel up and down Ukyo�s hair. She soon settled the damp thing aside. 

Placing a fresh towel on the chef�s strangely tense shoulders, she ran 
her hands experimentally through the dark-haired boy�s locks, smoothing 
out his scalp. 'Hmm, still a little damp,' she appraised, and was caught 
off guard when Ukyo sighed serenly. Ranma raised a small arched eyebrow, 
and noted how tense Ukyo�s shoulders were. 'I guess a massage wouldn�t 
hurt her, well him at the moment,' she considered, removing the towel 
from around her fianc�s neck to gain easier access to the necessary area.
She slowly kneaded her fingers through Ukyo�s unruly hair again, and 
quietly asked, �You want me ta� keep goin�, Ucchan?� The chef exhaled 
and rolled her neck from side to side.
 
�Sure. Thanks, Ranchan. I never realized just how stiff my neck was. A 
cold shower isn't exactly relaxing, you know? And of course, changing 
genders like that cannot help.� Ranma snorted playfully, as she pressed 
her thumbs into the nape of her companion�s neck.
 
�Hah, you wanna trade?� questioned the girl. Ukyo hummed as Ranma began 
tapping a series of basic pressure points around his shoulders.
 
�Right now?� he asked, �Not on your life,� he purred.
 
�Don�t do that, Ucchan,� pleaded the temporary masseuse.
 
�Huh?� replied the chef, a little dazed. �Oh, jeez, was I?� he asked 
looking over his shoulder at his frowning fianc�e. She nodded mutely. 
�I�m sorry, Sugar,� he said contritely, the intimate term of endearment 
sounded strange produced through the altered mechanics of a male voice 
box. He made to move away. Ranma pulled him back down firmly.
 
�Don�t worry about it,� she ordered reassuringly, her tone brooking no 
argument. She again proceeded to run her fingers through Ukyo�s damp hair. 
After a few minutes, the incident was forgotten, as Ranma worked in a 
steady rhythm, her small fists knuckling particularly knotted areas on 
Ukyo�s physique.
 
As the session drew on, Ukyo found himself fighting sleep. His higher 
brain functions decided to take a nap regardless of how the rest of him 
felt. Relaxed as he had become, Ukyo retained enough awareness to avoid 
purring again. This didn�t prevent the occasional blissfulbreath at the 
redhead�s efforts. Those littleknuckles really got the job done. The 
cursed chef found himself musing how it would feel to have Ranma�s 
petite frame straddling his back as she applied her deft fingers in this 
blissfully relaxing fashion.
 
His eyes opened and closed slowly as he envisioned Ranma�s powerful 
legs clenched around his waist, as she sensuously slackened and kneaded 
his otherwise unyielding muscles... Perhaps the cachous scent of 
fragrant oils in the air, he thought, borrowing from a stock fantasy of 
his. Ranma�s hot breath gently caressing the back of Ukyo�s neck leaving 
a trail of gooseflesh from nape to collarbone; the illicited chill 
softened by the heat of desire in the ai-
 
Ukyo�s eyes shot open as he realized that he wasn�t imagining Ranma�s 
breath on his back. His breathing quickened. He bit down a moan, but 
failed to subdue the quiver that accompanied it. The shiverdidn�t 
discourage Ranma, seemingly as lost in applying her technique as Ukyo 
was in receiving it.
 
�Kami-sama,� Ukyo near silently gasped as he realised that his goose 
bumps were not his body�s only reaction to Ranma�s ministrations. This 
was especially true, now that he felt what he knew intellectually could 
only be his fianc�e�s breasts crushed up against his bare back, only the 
loose fabric of Ranma�s top separating them. Ukyo gasped as he felt the 
petite girl�s uneven breath whispering wordlessly beyond his left ear. 

As a dainty hand reached out and plucked back a loose thread of hair, 
Ukyo�s entire body shuddered in an anticipatory thrill, which seemed an 
unconscious signal as he gradually craned his neck around. The dazzled 
martial artist gazed at Ranma�s illusory impassive features. Through 
heavy eyelashes, he found the small girl�s eyes, as she looked up from 
where both her hands slowly seesawed back and forth across Ukyo�s left 
shoulder. 
 
The fianc�s faces were scant centimetres away, moving closer. 
The trembling chef whispered Ranma's name.
 
o-o-o
 
Ranma repositioned her right hand to join her second on Ukyo�s left 
shoulder. God, her hands were small as a girl. She tentatively leaned 
her face forward, her chin almost resting on her hands. She could 
actually feel the beat of Ucchan�s pulse, as she studied her fianc�s 
ear. Ranma absently noted that it was lobeless, as she carefully brushed 
back a stray lock of chestnut hair to reveal a single freckle at the 
tip of the round cusp. Ukyo shivered massively at the contact, and 
Ranma internally balked. 'Oh hell', what was she doing? She was 
supposed to be drying Ukyo�s hair, not... whatever it was she was 
doing now. 'Time to stop,' she decided with conviction, before she felt 
Ukyo�s neck crane around toward her. Ranma looked up, and her thoughts 
dissipated. She felt her body circumnavigate her brain, moving 
independently, her eyelids instinctively closing. �Ranchan...� breathed 
her companion. Ranma felt her forehead lightly tickled by stray strands 
of Ukyo�s dark, unbrushed bangs. She felt his breath on her lips, which 
parted intuitively...
 
As Genma emerged from the WC.In a triumphant posehe yelled,
�Yatta!� The two teens blinked, frozen in place, millimeters separating 
them. While Genma praised himself a second time, the aqua-transsexual 
pair promptly scooted away from one another as their guardian bellowed 
about his accomplishment. Only now he loosened his grin enough to open 
his eyes. �And to think you tried to keep this cure from me Ranma. For 
shame, son. For shame!� he admonished paying no attention to the target 
of his ire�s furiously blushing countenance.
 
o-o-o
 
~You lousy- ~ 
 
~Hah! This coming from the hypocritical existential force that willingly 
cursed the Jusenkyo Guide.~
 
~Your point? He�s been cursed at least half a dozen times before. It�s 
only a minor inconvenience to him at this stage.~
 
~Be that as it may, you cursed him. How could you be so cruel?~
 
~YOU cursed him the other six times!~
 
~But those were part of my Grand Scheme.~
 
~Turning the Guide into a marmoset for six months was part of your Grand 
Scheme?~
 
~Well, not _per se_, but whose to say what will and will not affect 
causality and the ever-turbulent existential vicissitudes that span and 
fuel reality?~
 
~We are.~
 
Fate, being an existential force of reality didn�t sweatdrop, but did 
something that one could implicitly compare to a sweatdrop in regarding 
existential forces of time and space.
 
~What I can�t figure out is what a South American primate was doing at 
Jusenkyo seven hundred years ago.~
 
~It could have- ~
 
~And the orangutan water that nearly splashed that Hibiki kid for that 
matter. They�re indigenous to Borneo and Sumatra. How did one get to 
China?~
 
~Maybe it swam?~ Came the tentative suggestion.
 
~...I don�t think so...~
 
~Or perhaps it escaped from the circus?~ 
 
~The Spring of Drowned Orangutan is twelve hundred years old. Do better, ~ 
demanded Karma.
 
~Jusenkyo _does_ attract a lot of strangeness... ~
 
~That is true... I suppose...~
 
Karma became aware of a splash at the particular cursed springs, and 
observed as a young Chinese girl in an overly large green uniform 
informed the emerging black and white, flightless, aquatic bird of its 
curse.
 
~...A &$# PENGUIN!? Care explaining that one, Fate!...Fate?~
 
...
 
~Clever bastard. Grand Scheme, indeed.~
 
o-o-o
 
�You understand?� demanded Ranma. �Ucchan and I�ll be busy buying 
supplies, so you can just go on ahead to Megumi�s alone. She�s bound to 
treat you just as well as last time, remember?� Genma frowned, which 
seemed strange on his manically grinning face.
 
�Of course I do, boy!� blustered a wet Genma. He had twice been splashed 
with cold water since vacating the hotel. Ranma and Ukyo shared a secret 
smile at Genma�s lie. Ukyo, wearing his double spatulas once more, reached 
into his blue gi jacket, and fished out a crumpled piece of paper. He 
wordlessly presented it to Genma. �And what�s this, boy?� asked the 
elder Saotome as he laughed off the sudden rainfall. Ranma�s lips 
quirked in a nasty half smile as Ukyo answered.
 
�Just some directions to Megumi�s, Pops. Xining is a big city after all. 
This,� he looked at the piece of paper Genma had just taken, �will get 
you there in case you have a hard time remembering our last visit.� 
'Eventually,' added Ukyo to himself. Genma, �humphed�.
 
�Hah! I won�t need these,� he boasted motioning as though to roll up 
the directions and throw them away. He then carefully placed it in his 
gi. 
 
�But since you two went to so much trouble...� 
Ranma rolled her eyes, while concealing a smirk behind a 
small hand. Ranma gained his attention again.
 
�So we�ll meet you at Megumi�s, then?� He waved a hand dismissively and 
surreptitiously looked at the directions when he thought they�d turned 
around. �See you later,� smiled Ranma, as she and Ukyo headed a different 
direction from the one Genma had, dreamily muttering about shrimp 
okonomiyaki under his breath. The cursed pair could barely contain their 
amusement when they saw Genma laughing heartily after being splashed by 
water from a speeding truck. They turned to one another and grinned; 
their mutual distraction in pulling one over on Pops having temporarily 
overshadowed the awkwardness of the half hour after... what happened. 

�So Ucchan,� began Ranma casually, looking up at her taller companion, 
�how much free time do we have before we have to get to your cousin�s?� 
Ukyo snickered.
 
�I figured since Pops was too hung over to remember his last visit 
here, he�ll get the full scenic tour of the town. We have a good three 
hours to kill before he gets anywhere near Megumi�s.�
Ranma whistled.
 
�It�ll take us less than half that time to get all our supplies,� 
estimated Ranma, looking into the distance. �What�ll we do then?� She 
turned back to her fianc�, only to see a wicked gleam in his eye, 
somewhat akin to how she imagined she looked last night when they plotted 
out Genma�s little �object lesson�.
 
�Not all of them,� Ukyo thrilled in a little sing song voice. "Some need 
to be tried on first."
 
�Huh? What�cha mea...� Oh no. Ohnoohnoohnoohnoohnoohnoohno. �Oh no, oh-�
 
�Oh yes!� he smirked, �Unless, that is, you�re planning to go back on 
your word?� He winked at her. Ranma indignantly waved her arms, and 
flustered,
 
�Of course not! But, but I -� Ukyo pulled up his fists and held them 
below his chin, and mumbled cutely, chin quivering in an outrageous 
fashion,
 
�S-so, you�re saying th-that y-you�re breaking your promise to me!� 
looking absolutely miserable. Ranma began making warding signs in a 
panic, stuttering. But quickly calmed.
 
�Not workin' this time, 'Sugar',� smirked Ranma.She folded her arms 
cockily and snorted, �You should know better to try that on me when 
I'm the girl.� Ukyo was using a lot of willpower to fight his grin. He 
was nodding.
 
�Yep, I agree, that old routine won�t work on you. But just a quick 
question?�
 
�Uh huh?�
 
�Generally: do girls wear girl underwear?� Ranma blinked audibly and 
frowned at the non-sequiter.
 
�Well, yeah. Of course they -� Ranma suddenly found herself in apit 
of her own making, as the Cheshire cat formally known as Ukyo unleased 
his grin.
 
'I hate it when she smiles like that,' thought Ranma. 'I like it, too. 
A lot. But that smile never means anything good for me.' She shook her 
head. �Ucchan, it don�t...it doesn�t matter. I told you already I�d wear 
a bra � a _sports_ bra,� she emphasized before Ukyo got any ideas, �so 
I�ll wear one.� She sighed as Ukyo offered her a slim arm. Shaking her head 
in mostly mock agaitation, she accepted, saying, �Let�s just get the supplies 
we�ll need out of the way first. Then you can start the torture.�
 
�I just think you�re worried you�ll like it,� said Ukyo in faux seriousness.
 
�Hah,� scoffed Ranma. �I can think of better things to do than waste my 
time pickin� out dumb underwear.� To her astonishment, Ukyo nodded 
wholeheartedly.
 
�You�re right there, Sugar.�
 
Ranma knew she wouldn�t like how this sentence panned out. �Its not 
just underwear. You�re going to need a whole new wardrobe!� Ukyo paused 
as Ranma�s face began to turn blue. �Only kidding! Jeez, always such a 
drama queen!� The redhead�s eyes narrowed, before she grinned coquettishly, 
bringing her fists beneath her chin in imitation of Ukyo�s earlier theatrics.
 
�It�s better than being a drama-KING, though, right Ukyo-KUN?�
 
�I deserved that,� he admitted, leaning closer to his fianc�e. He 
unceremoniously blew in her ear, eliciting a straight ten-foot vertical l
eap from the younger Saotome. Ukyo simpered, as he caught the redhead in 
his arms �Doesn�t mean I�m not going to get revenge though,� he said as 
Ranma grumpily stuck out her tongue at the chef.
 
o-o-o
 
Okay, repeated Shampoo to herself. Must get information. Don�t kill. 
Talk first. Kill then, if you have to, but talk first. Must find 
husband�s location. And the enemy, too.
 
Since her objective was not to kill the man, Shampoo regarded the 
situation as she would any other involving an Amazon and an outsider 
male. She was of a higher station, and she would behave as such, 
receiving the respect and deference that was due her station. That 
being total. Of outsider males, only her spouse deserved any modicum 
of respect from her. And once he was brought back to his rightful 
place in the village, he would become a good Amazon husband, and help 
Shampoo bear strong daughters.
 
Thinking on her husband, she sighed wistfully. Hewas awfully handsome, 
if a tad effeminate. But in a culture that glorified the female gender, 
that�s wasn�t necessarily a bad thing. She would have despaired at the 
physical size of her Lawfully Chosen husband, if not for the fact that 
she herself was one of the smallest women in the village, yet was the 
strongest of all the young warriors.
 
She knew that size did not always equate to power. Take thisbrute she 
was about to approach. He was much larger than her husband; a broad 
shouldered bulky specimen, but she doubted if he had half of Shampoo's 
strength. She would subdue him with her bonbori and then... She scowled. 
She could accidentally kill him. There was no assurance that he could 
survive even a weak attack from her maces. She was the best tracker in 
the village, but if the trail went cold here, she would not have an easy 
time finding her quarry in that overseas land of barbarians. As much as 
it grated her, she�d have to announce herself and... converse with him.
 
'The things we do in the name of Amazon Law', she thought as she approached 
the figure and his fire from downwind. �Nihao!� she called out with authority. 
The man stared at her in what she knew was awe. Yes, she recalled. 

Ling-Ling and Lung-Lung had described him as fairly intelligent for a male. 
Hmm, he wasn�t too bad looking either. He might not make half-bad breeding 
stock for one of the unwed younger girls. But Shampoo was a married warrior, 
and that was none of her immediate concern.
 
�Who...who are you?� the bandanna clad boy asked, from beside his fire. 
He was unarmed and seemed to have only a pack and umbrella for company. 
She stepped forward with regal grace and announced with a finger to 
indicate herself.
 
�Shampoo, is Shampoo.� The Lost Boy stared mutely at the Amazon, just 
incredulously relieved that the girl had lavender hair. She wasn�t... 
one of those. With a shrug, he walked to his pack, and began rummaging
through the contents, until he found what he was searching for.
 
�Here you go, miss,� replied Ryoga, happy to help as he tossed the 
bottle toward the girl. She effortlessly grabbed the container, and 
stared at it for a moment. Her eyes moved about as she slowly worked 
out what was written on the bottle, speaking aloud as she did:
 
�Tri...ple Bond Re... con...struc...tor. For life...less..limp...
shag ...gy...hair...there.. is... no...better... sham..poo...� Suddenly 
her teeth clenched in rage, and she snarled, �You... you man! You dare 
insult Shampoo! Shampoo greatest and most beautiful warrior of all of 
Joketsuzoku! You die!� 
 
Ryoga was frantically waving his arms. It was 
happening again! Another misunderstanding. It was odd though. Unless 
it was a trick of the light, he was sure the girl�s hair was lavender. 
'Probably a dye-job', he surmised, as he woke from his reverie to duck a 
swipe of her multi-coloured mace. He stepped left as she stabbed the 
space he had just occupied. Where did she get a sword? 
 
�DIE!� she shrieked 
as he nimbly leaped over another thrust attack.
 
This girl was good! Not in Ryoga�s league, or Ukyo-san�s, he thought 
dreamily, as he nonchalantly evaded a lunge. Or Ranma-san. Dodge, parry. 
Ah, Ranma. He couldn�t wait to gaze upon her ravishing beauty again. 
Leap, dodge, roll. Yet for some reason, he felt a strange trepidation 
when he pictured her, he thought, as he sidestepped another of the 
�shampoo girl�s swings. Duck, lean back. What was there to dislike about 
Ranma? She has the most flawless creamy skin. Leap, slide. The most 
sparkling azure eyes. Dodge. Parry. Block. Huh, had to block that one. 
The most silvery voice. Duck. Sidestep. The most lithe, nubile, 
healthy...Oh hell, nosebleed!
 
�I�m sorry, miss. But could I trouble you for a tissue?� Ryoga frowned 
when the girl seemed to get even angrier. Backflip. Block. Parry. He 
smacked his forehead. Of course! �I apologise, miss. Could I _please_ 
trouble you for a tissue?� There. He smiled...then blinked. The girl 
looked a mess. She looked sweaty and tired and her hair was in complete 
disarray. �I�m sorry to have to tell you this, miss,� he began 
apologetically, �but your hair is a mess.� Yeah, she seemed shocked too. 
He�d try to help her out. �Maybe you should see a barber?� She screamed 
in what sounded life a blazing bonfire of infinite fury. But that couldn�t 
be right. Leap, parry. What would anybody have done to get her so upset?... 
Hmm, maybe he should have said �stylist�? The girl could very attractive, 
Ryoga imagined, if she had her hair styled. Dodge, leap, dodge, roll. Like 
Ukyo and Ranma; always with immaculate trademark braids. Ukyo, with her 
earthy, chestnut locks, and Ranma, with her silky... her silky... hey what 
the heck colour hair did Ranma have again? Cartwheel. Dodge. Ah, he supposed 
it didn�t matter. Dodge, leap, duck, parry, sidestep. After all, her hair 
colour didn�t change the size � the perkiness of her... �Miss, I really 
that tissue, if you have it,� he said with eyes a little glazed over.
 
�AAAAARRGGGGGHHHH! SHAMPOO KILLLLLLL!� She screamed her from the depths 
of her very soul, and threw everything she had into one last gasp attack, 
and yes! The man wasn�t moving. She�d kill him! She�d prove that she could 
win! She�d prove that, that...even Amazons trip every now and then, as she 
toppled over a log, completely missing her glassy eyed target and instead 
skewering his traveling pack.
 
She arose to find the evil man had recovered from his stupor. Not only 
that, she was dirty, sweaty, and yes, now sticky, having penetrated some 
water bottle in the man�s-no, demon�s - pack. As he approached her forlorn 
figure, she steadied herself. This might be the end, but she�d go down 
fighting. He winced as he got a better look at her.
 
�Ah, jeez, I�m sorry miss. You�re a mess. I wish Ukyo-san or Ranma-san was 
here; they�d know all about this girl stuff.� 
 
With the mention of her dear husband, and bitter rival, - both their names 
twisted in this demon�s tongue - fire returned to Shampoo�s spirit. 
The demon: it knew. It knew what she wanted all along, and
it had only toyed with her. She would swear though, that 
the Joketsuzoku would not rest until this demon was sent back to the 
pits of hell.
 
�Where? Where husband?�
 
�Huh?� replied Ryoga intelligently. Tears threatened to form in the young 
Amazon�s eyes.
 
�Why you toy with Shampoo! Shampoo make deal. You can no have Shampoo soul, 
but Amazons owe you boon. You tell Shampoo where husband Ucchan is, and you 
have boon of Joketsuzoku. Is very valuable. Treasure even in hell!� 
 
Ryoga  was understandably perplexed, but did pick up a familiar 
name. Frowning, he asked,
 
�You said �Ucchan�. That �s what Ranma-san calls Ukyo-san.�
 
�Yes! Yes, them. Where they!� Having appraised this girl, Ryoga felt she�d 
be no threat what so ever to either of his loves. She was probably just a 
little fan or something.
 
�Sure, I�ll help you out finding your hero,� he said with a small sympathetic 
smile.
 
�Really? Really? You help Shampoo?�
 
�Last I heard, they were both in Qinghai.� The girl became decidedly 
more belligerent.
 
�Not now stupid! Where they go?� Ryoga shook his head at the little girl�s 
ignorance,
 
�Japan, of course.� What type of fan didn�t even know where their idol 
lived?
 
�Where? Where in Japan?� Ryoga scratched his chin.
 
�Can�t really say. They move around a lot.� The girl�s eye began filling 
up with tears again. �Wait, wait. When we left Jusenkyo, I overhead Mr. 
Saotome talking about the Tendo Dojo in Tokyo while in he asleep. I sure 
hope that helps you, miss?� he asked again.
 
�Shampoo.� Ryoga grimaced as he grabbed his gear. Maybe she�d accept his 
conditioner?
 
The girl smiled to herself. She had a name now, and a place. Yes, 
everything had gone according to plan. She turned around. The demon was 
gone! Pack and all. Probably teleported back to Hades, surmised the 
Amazon warrior. She imagined that if she strained her senses enough, 
she�d likely detect a hint of sulfur in the air.
 
Shampoo promptly left the site of the demon�s camp. It was probably cursed; 
after all, the demon had mentioned something about the Pools of Sorrow. As 
she disappeared into the woods she missed the white cloaked figure emerge 
from the shadows.
 
�Thank whatever gods have stalled you here, my beautiful Shampoo,� he spoke 
with fervour to himself. �Now that I have your trail, I won�t lose you again. 
I shall not allow you leave your birthplace alone.� Despite his brightly 
coloured attire, the figure quickly melted into the night.
 
o-o-o
 
�Where am I now?�
 
�Him again!� Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned � or those simply fed 
up with a specific pervert invading their particular locker room. �Get him!� 
Spying no avenue of escape, Ryoga cringed, resigned himself to his horrible 
fate yet again. Askance, he heard one of his assailants question nobody in 
particular (between bludgeoning the prostate Hibiki with a deceptively heavy 
dustpan),
 
�Seriously, why doesn�t this freaking pervert go bother the blondes or 
brunettes once in a while?�
 
The alleged deviant winced as he suffered another knock to the ribs. If only 
they'd afford him the opportunity to tell them that he had never intended to 
bother any of them. That his lousy sense of direction had recently escalated 
to a level where he truly beginning to feel as though some external force was 
'out to get him'. Suitably switching to English (one of several languages in 
which he was proficient), Ryoga pleaded with his captors.
 
The savage pummelling ceased as the collected girls' ire at the kibitzer gave 
way to curiosity. This had been the first time the interloper had remained 
conscious long enough to accomplish anything beyond squealing in pain.
 
"Could you... repeat that?" asked one of the still surprised girls. Ryoga 
quickly complied.
 
"Ach lassies! Will'n yer be givin' me a bloomin' chance t'explain misself!"
 
He frowned at their somewhat dumbfound expressions, relieved at least that 
the beating has halted. "What's the matter lasses?" asked the boy, noting 
their reactions. "You look like a bunch'a Rangers fans who just heard ye were 
down three-nil to Dundee United at half time."
 
A fairly tall brown-eyed girl, seemingly the group's de facto leader spoke up.
"You're," she began incredulously, looking appraisingly at the Oriental boy, 
"you're _Scottish?_"
 
Huh? Had this girl hit her head during the fracas? Having unwittingly traversed 
the globe during his time, Ryoga was well aware that he didn't look western. So 
why did...? Oh, yeah. He had picked up most of his English at the source, Britain.
 
"Oh, ye been meanin' m'accent, wee lass?" The girl and several of her companions 
nodded woodenly. "Ah, 'tis nuthin'. Ah just happened ta pick up a coupl'a phrases 
or two during a wee excursion ta Edinborough a coupl'oh years back." 
 
The assembled girls raised their eyebrows. 'A couple of phrases'? 
 
"Think nuthin' of it," he advised.
 
"Do you know Mel Gibson?" asked a shorthaired girl in a somewhat dreamy tone. 
Confused, he shook his head.
 
"All right," replied the tall girl casually hefting a broom. "Let's get back 
to business." Most of her cohorts joined her in raising their blunt instruments 
of female righteousness.
 
"Will ya hold yer horses!" he implored as he brought his hands up to shield his 
face. "Ya nay gave me half a breath ta get a word in edgeways!"
 
"Alright," replied the leader, as the other girls mumbled impatiently amongst 
themselves. "We'll cut you some slack because we were already finished dressing 
this time." Her eyes hardened. "But this had better be good," she warned menacingly.
The Lost Boy sweated through his bandanna, as he awkwardly grinned in what he 
hoped was a disarming fashion.
 
"Well bonnie," he began. "Ah sometimes have a bit'a hassle findin' me way aboot..."
 
o-o-o
 
Genma was beginning to become irritable. The Anything-Goes Master had spent 
nearly two hours meandering through the streets of Xining and had yet to reach 
his destination. That in itself wasn't so bad. He'd bought a snack from a food 
vendor to tide himself over until he found his way to his charge's relative.
 
What was principally contributing to his grouchiness was that he currently wetter 
than Jacque Cousteau's submarine during a rainstorm. And despite his best efforts, 
he couldn't seem to avoid water long enough to become even remotely dry.
 
He sniffed. Feh! It still beat being a panda. The martial artist grinned 
satisfactorily as he trod past a building he failed to recognise as the hotel 
they had stayed in the night before. Recalling his son's deference to his wisdom, 
he afforded himself a mental pat on the back. His sodden gi squishing with every 
step, Genma blithely ignored the frothy build up on his exposed forearms.
 
o-o-o
 
"That about covers everything we need, even if Megumi doesn't help us out," 
declared as still male Ukyo as they left the food stall. He could have asked earlier 
for warm water, but felt Ranma may have thought he was tomrenting her. Regardless, 
he'd become accustomed to the male form over the past week or so. It didn't upset 
him to anywhere near the extent it had immediately following Jusenkyo. He 
absently speculated why that was, before dismissing the thought, as his companion 
spoke.
 
"Are you sure?" she asked uneasily. "I mean, if there's anything else we need,"
 
"Now, now," grinned Ukyo, disingenuously wagging a reproachful finger. 

"You've stalled for long enough," he commented lightly.
 
Ranma glanced up, and looked about the street, biting her lower lip. As 
she scanned the area, she realised that she had dragged Ukyo into every 
food vendor on the street. She was out of options. Deflating, she murmured 
miserably,
 
"Time to face the music, I guess," appearing as though she expected Ukyo 
to offer her a cigarette at any moment.
 
'She's really dreading this', realised Ukyo. Regardless, he resolved 
that they would still acquire the necessary garment for his petite 
fianc�e to support herself. Ukyo would have given Ranma one of his own, 
but a single cursory glance at the redhead's figure indicated that they 
would be... insufficient for the girl's needs.
 
Ukyo's puckered brow transformed into smiling eyes as an idea struck him. 
Grabbing his startled friend 's small hand, he began backtracking to a 
store he'd noted earlier. "Ucchan?" softly questioned the redhead. "What 
are you up t-?"
 
"Sugar," interrupted the taller teenager, as he glimpsed down at her. 
Ranma craned her sight up, and gazed. The chef was smiling. And it wasn't 
the dangerous one. Greeted with that expression, the girl felt her spirits 
lift. Things weren't so bad.
 
She quickly decided to cease grumbling about something she herself had 
already accepted as necessary.
 
"Ucchan," cut in the girl, her tone contrite, "I'm sorry I'm being such 
an ass about this." Ranma paused when Ukyo chuckled briefly.
 
"You've nothing to be sorry for, Hon." Quickly, he continued, "You're a 
sixteen year old guy, Ranchan, and you're about to go shopping for a bra 
for yourself." Ranma blushed as red as her thigh-length hair, thankful Ukyo 
was speaking Japanese. "I can't imagine anyone else in your situation handling 
it as well as you have," praised the dark haired boy, before sniffing. "Most 
guys would have told me to go suck a lemon." 
 
Ranma grinned, unveiling dimpled cheeks,
 
"And if I had said that?"
 
"Then we'd be shopping for a teddy right now," answered the brunette 
humorously. "And I don't mean a stuffed toy." The redhead chortled as Ukyo 
wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. The chef continued - delighted to see 
the girl back in the high spirits. "What I was about to suggest a moment 
ago Sugar, is that if we're going to shop, we should Shop.
 
"Don't follow."
 
"What I mean," clarified Ukyo when Ranma stared vacantly, is that we should 
make it worthwhile. Memorable," he expounded. Pursing her lips in an 
unintentionally cute manner, the girl asked,
 
"Like how?"
 
"How about," began Ukyo tapping a slim index finger thoughtfully against his 
lips. "How about we each get something for the other... not just something," 
he decided, "an outfit!" Ranma's blossoming enthusiasm visibly waned, as she 
wilted a little. Seeing this, Ukyo appeased, "Don't worry! We each have to 
get something we'd both wear." The redhead relaxed and her eyes took on 
contemplative quality, before marring her features with a frown.
 
"But I'm not really good at matchin' and stuff."
 
"Uh � uh," smiled the chef. "I saw the twinkle in your eye. You have something 
in mind?"
 
"Well, I dunno," she replied self assuredly, idly twirling a stray red lock 
with her fingers. "I saw something in a store earlier, but..." Ukyo took a 
firmer hold of Ranma's hand.
 
"Which shop?"
 
She told him. "Then let's get going," he proclaimed brightly.
 
As they backtracked to the store in question, Ukyo mused over strange 
coincidences.
 
o-o-o
 
"So let me get this straight," announced the cock-eyed girl. Her classmates 
stared dubiously at the muscular boy sitting sheepishly before them. "You're 
a Japanese martial artist?"
 
"Aye," he confirmed.
 
"And you've got two girls," he nodded. "Both of whom you got separated from 
in the wilds of China some days back, and you've been wandering about, 
searching for them."
 
"Tis the honest to gawd truth," he intoned solemnly. The girl rolled 
her eyes.
 
"And during this time, in addition to at least two dozen various locations 
in China and South-East Asia, you've also visited," she motioned for 
shorthaired girl holding a pen and writing pad to speak.
 
"Australia." The tall girl held up a souvenir Sydney Opera House 
figure, sarcastically commenting,
 
"Exhibit 'A'. You sure you don't know Mel Gibson?" He shook his 
head insistently as the girl with the writing pad's eyes became 
starry again, before continuing to read from the pad.
"Disneyland." A figure of cartoon duck on the Eiffel tower was produced. 
"Disneyland Paris," corrected the shorthaired girl as she read on. 

"A bullfight in either Mexico or Spain, you don't know which." 
A matador's cape was Exhibit C. "Greece." The arms of the Venus 
Di Milo, 'D'. "Check that. Ancient Greece." She read on. "The Sea of 
Serenity, wherever that is." A tattered American flag and a strange 
looking wand.
 
"And of course," she finished flatly, "during all 
this, you've made sixteen detours � _that we know of_ � into our 
locker room." This time a different girl presented a battered dustpan, 
and glared.
 
Gulping back the bile in his throat, Ryoga anxiously scratched the 
back of his bandanna-clad head.
 
"Well, when ye be puttin' that way lass, it do sound a little like,"
 
"Utter crap?" suggested dustpan girl sweetly. His head fell.
 
"Ach... aye. But 'tis no lie. If'n ye had some surveillance equipment 
ye be seein' that I did'na mean ta find yer room and I certainly did'na 
do anythin' pre-verted."
 
"Surveillance equipment? In a locker room?" asked the leader dryly.
 
"Wait," interjected writing pad girl. Seeing she had the group's 
attention, she asked, "There are security cameras in the hall, right?"
 
o-o-o
 
~I'm surprised he didn't have the Mars Rover in his pack.~
 
~About that...~
 
~I don't want to know. As soon as he's back in China, you're returning 
his family curse back to its original level.~
 
~Have it your way.~
 
~Why do I get the very distinct feeling that this isn't all that 
you've been up to?~
 
~Probably because it's true.~
 
o-o-o
 
"Amazing. The vents and the window slats are far too narrow for you 
to have passed through, let alone your pack," explicated leader girl. 
"I guess... I mean you definitely weren't on camera. I suppose you are 
telling the truth." Ryoga relaxed, immensely relieved that he wouldn't 
have to suffer through what had appeared another inevitable estrogen-
fueled pulping.
 
Uncomfortably, the girl turned to her companions, and they whispered 
animatedly amongst themselves. A moment later, the group less than 
enthusiastically chorused, "We're sorry."
 
"Ah, 'tis nay bother," Ryoga gestured appeasingly. He stood, 
shouldering his pack. "Ah best me on me way from here." He made to 
leave, but on impulse enquired, "Afore I be goin', ah may as well ask 
where here is." Writing pad girl answered.
 
"Keratin High School for Girls, Honolulu." He didn't react. "Hawaii," 
she expounded. He blinked. She sweated. "America." He nodded sagely. 
Still in questioning mode and as curious as when he had first arrived 
in this particular locker room, he asked,
 
"And do all the lasses at Keratin High be havin' yer lovely crimson 
locks?" The fourteen redheads groaned exasperatedly, as their leader 
answered,
 
"That's our insane principal's fault. Everything he does has to have 
a hair theme to it." He saw the others girls nod and grimace. "Instead 
of arranging Phys Ed classes by age or something, we're broken up by hair 
colour." Ryoga raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I'm serious," she insisted. 
"And that's only for P.E. Our normal classes are decided by hairstyle! Do 
you have any idea what its like to suddenly have an entirely different 
curriculum because you decided to wear your hair in a ponytail?" she 
demanded. Another girl took up the story,
 
"And that lunatic says it'd be easier if we all just had bowl cuts!"
 
"Remember when he changed the school name? This place used to be called Hazel 
High!" added another. Ryoga looked on passively as the group angrily 
discussed the various tortures that their sadistic headmaster had subjected 
them to.
 
"Ah... see." He didn't. Shrugging his shoulders, he announced, "Well, bonnie 
lasses. I'm off and about. Take care of yer wee selves," and with that 
farewell, left the room.
 
"Good luck," they called after him. Dustpan girl chimed,
"We hope you find your... girlfriends..."
 
Silence reigned as the assembled girls exchanged glances.
 
"He WAS a pervert! Get back here!"
 
o-o-o
 
"This is weird," complained Ranma as the cursed couple made their 
way to the store the redhead (and the brunet) had bookmarked. They 
taken a detour on the way at another establishment and procured 
several sports bras for the grumpy girl.
 
"Stop fidgeting," demanded the chef, rolling his eyes at his fianc�e's 
behaviour. As Ukyo eyed his companion, a tiny part of his mind was 
disappointed that her assets were now restrained. That was the same 
part had allowed Ranma to dominate a particular training session 
against a male and very distracted Ukyo during the journey to Xining.
 
"It feels like I'm wearing a jock strap on my chest," groused the 
redhead as she glanced at herself. Ukyo really hoped she'd be over 
this _verbal_ phase by the time they returned to Japan.
 
While they had been buying the bras, Ukyo had realised that there were 
other items of clothing and... equipment Ranma would need. He patted her 
on the shoulder, gaining the preoccupied girl's attention. "Uh-hum?" 
murmured the petite figure, turning brilliant blue eyes upward.
 
'Ranchan's really cute like that', reflected the chef as the midday sun
 shone evenly on her fianc�e's features. There was nothing one could 
do to improve on that face, thought Ukyo, critically. 
 
"Ucchan?" Ranma was beginning to feel restless. Ukyo had tapped her 
about thirty seconds earlier (she absently noted that the hand still 
rested on her shoulder) and had spent the interval staring at her dumbly. 
Ukyo's teeth were showing in his smile, and its subject bit her lips to 
fight back the blush she felt.
 
It was futile of course. Feeling the blood rush into her cheeks, she 
hastily returned her eyes to the ground. Why was she so embarrassed? 
Ukyo was the one acting strangely. What was he thinking, gawking at 
her in the middle of the street like that? For the most part Ranma 
acknowledged, passers-by were simply ignoring the pair, but the thought 
that anybody could be watching set her ears to burning even hotter than before.
Gathering her wits, Ranma raised her eye-level. Her eyes found Ukyo's 
blinking mechanically, as though waking from a deep sleep. "Ucchan?" she 
questioned dryly.
 
"Huh?" replied the taller martial artist dazedly. He shook his head 
slightly. "Sorry, Hon," he apologised. "I just zoned out there for a second."
 
"Try two minutes," amended Ranma testily, her discomfiture receding. 
Ukyo mutely adopted a questioning expression. Sighing huffily, sending 
a few loose strands of hair billowing in the process, the redhead 
prompted, "You were saying something?" Ukyo snapped his fingers, recalling 
his line of thought.
 
"I was just thinking,"
 
"No, you were gawking," contended Ranma. Ukyo blinked, and sniggered 
giddily.
 
"Before that," amended Ukyo. "Anyway, you're going to have to realize 
that the sports bra isn't the only concession to..." How to say this? 
"Muliebrity," he decided, "that you'll have to make."
 
"Care to _elaborate_ on that?" asked Ranma, her hands going to her hips.
 
"Ah, Ranma?" he said in an odd tone.
 
"Yeah?"
"You asked me to tell you if it happened," he explained. "Your arms 
are akimbo again." Ranma just looked at him.
 
"A-what-what?"
 
"Girly," he clarified.
 
"Eek!" Ranma roughly pushed her arms to her sides, and turned her 
attention back to the chef. "Still waiting."
 
Ukyo gulped and mumbled obliquely,
 
"Well, like your boxers."
 
"What about them?" asked Ranma cautiously. "You mean I can't wear,"
 
"You can still wear them," interrupted the chef. "...Just not all the time."
 
"Why not?" she asked hesitantly. Ukyo examined the sidewalk as he mumbled,
 
"They won't, you know, hold a p � er, that is..." Gods, how was he 
supposed to explain this? Wait, he thought with some relief. He 
needn't! "You know Sex-Ed class, right?"
 
"I know OF it," she answered carefully.
 
Damn. She wasn't making this any easier!
 
"But do you rem...? Y'know with the thi..." Forget it. He 
couldn't deal with this now. Later, yes. Ukyo recognized 
however, that he couldn't put off the talk for long. His countenance 
grew lighter as he dismissed it for the time being. "Oh, it's nothing, 
Sugar. Forget I said anything."
 
Raising the small arch of an eyebrow, Ranma rolled,
 
"Oookay."
 
"Come on," he said, brightening. "We still have some shopping to do." 

Smiling infectiously, he grabbed her hand and resumed their path. Ranma 
grinned crookedly at Ukyo's enthusiasm, lightly remonstrating,
 
"Slow down, baka. We still have plenty of time."
 
"I know," agreed the green-eyed boy. "I just can't wait to see what you 
picked out for me."
 
"Really?" asked the redhead in surprise.
 
"Of course," he gushed back.
 
"Be afraid," she warned ominously.
 
o-o-o
 
Wiping at his brow, Genma flicked foam from the back of his hand. 
Mercifully, the splashing had petered off a little, but now his torso 
appeared enveloped by frothy bubbles.
 
A tub being unceremoniously emptied from a second story window was 
sufficient to rinse off most of the substance. Content, now that he 
was bubble-free and only damp, Genma cleaned his glasses and smirked. 
Almost there.
 
o-o-o
 
"Ranchan, you really don't know your sizes?"
 
"You mean you _do_?"
 
"Of course!" exclaimed Ukyo. "It was one of the first things I checked 
after, you know?"
 
"Mmm," nodded the girl. "I just assumed I could wear my normal clothes..." 
Ukyo eyes became half-lidded. "Hey, I could tighten the sash you know?" 
she grumbled defensively.
 
"Sugar," began the spatula-wielding boy. "You're guy side is about a 
foot taller than you are. Broader shoulders, narrower hips, not 
as cute � I mean," he cleared his throat, "rounded. Heh." Ranma smirked 
and pretended to miss Ukyo's slip. "You're gi is one thing, but anything 
else would be up to your armpits."
 
"Like a certain towel?" winked Ranma.
 
"Hey, that wasn't!"  Ukyo looked to the
heavens. "I thought we were already through this." 
 
"Sorry, Ucchan. But just thinking of the sight...BWHAHAAHAAH!" The chef 
waited patiently for his companion to laugh herself out. After another 
round of guffaws, the longhaired boy asked
 
"You back with us?" Ranma had the grace to feign abashment. Ukyo knelt 
and fished about his pack for a moment before producing a long cord. He 
nodded behind Ranma. "Into the dressing room, kid."
 
Glancing over her shoulder, the small girl curiously turned her attention 
back to the chef. "You want me to measure you out here?" asked Ukyo 
smirking wickedly. Ranma squeaked in shock, bolting into the booth, causing 
several patrons to snicker.
 
The redhead frowned when Ukyo followed her in, his spatulas ungainly in 
the tight confines.
 
"Not that I'm complaining, Ucchan," drawled the redhead, theatrically 
slipping off her gi vest, "but wouldn't it be easier if I did the measuring?" 
Ranma frowned curiously when the boy didn't respond. "Ground control to 
Ucchan? Heck, are you gonna keep doing this all day?" she grumped when he 
didn't react.
 
Ukyo, meanwhile was entranced by the bellybutton that peeked out from 
beneath Ranma's T-shirt when she shrugged off her gi. His fascination 
was cut short when he was lightly rapped on the head.
 
"Hey!" he grimaced, rubbing his crown, "Why did you do that, jackass?" 
He brought his eyes to Ranma's and immediately rescinded his complaint. 
"Er... sorry," he apologised in the face of Ranma's unamused half-hooded 
gaze. She glanced at the cord in his hands. "Oh yeah," he gulped, 
"here you go," he handed her the tape and stepped backwards out of the booth.
Fifteen minutes later found the pair back near the stalls as they 
presented the clothes they had selected for one another. Ukyo went 
first. Ranma nodded amiably as she took each item, seemingly pleased 
with her fiance's choices. She quickly threw her bundle into the 
chef's hands and entered a booth without waiting for Ukyo's appraisal. 
The gi-clad boy shrugged, and examined the garments in his hands. 
Humming, he entered another cubicle.
 
They exited at the same time, a satisfied expression gracing Ukyo's face, and 
a cocksure one on Ranma's. "You look great, Sugar," commented Ukyo 
taking in the redhead and her outfit. Dark, smoky gray slacks, above 
a pair of black slippers. An equally dark grey tang adorned her torso, 
that Ranma had left open to reveal the royal blue tank top beneath, 
which she filled out rather nicely, noted Ukyo. He paused in his judgment, 
rubbing his chin speculatively. Snapping his fingers, he stepped close 
and quickly removed the loose tang, leaving Ranma confusedly asking 
what he was doing. "Give me a sec, Sugar," he requested, tying the 
long arms of the tang around Ranma's waist, under the snaking braid. 
Finished, he took a step back. "Perfect," he grinned.
 
The redhead examined herself, and smiled approvingly.
 
"I like," she commented. Her smile wavered as she asked, "And you?" 

Ukyo exaggeratedly inspected his own clothes for Ranma's benefit.
 
"Nice," he answered in his jet black slacks and slippers, a sleeveless 
silk, red tang fastened up his chest. "Very nice, indeed." Ranma beamed.
 
"Domo, Ucchan."
 
"Ditto, Sugar," he chuckled at her zest. He began to walk to the till, 

"Let's pay for these and head to Megumi's."
 
"We're wearing these out?" asked Ranma indicating their new clothes.
 
"Why not?" he questioned rhetorically. The redhead nodded in 
acquiescence, before her eyes turned sinister, a devious smile 
replacing her good-natured one.
 
"Think we should get somethin' for Pops, too?" They snickered slyly 
together, recalling last night's conversation.
 
o-o-o
 
"I'm gonna let him have it."
 
"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry, Ranchan!" said Ukyo concernedly. "Did I get you 
with the spatula, too? I didn't mean,"
 
"I'm _fine_, Ucchan," assured Ukyo's diminutive roommate. The brunette 
nodded, moving closer. Her fianc�e's concern muted at least verbally, 
Ranma huffed,
 
"You're right that Pops won't give up tryin' to get his hands on the 
soap," she admitted, sparing a withered glare for the unconscious subject 
of their discussion. "Even though it ain't, isn't," she corrected 
herself, "really a cure. Not for him or you at least. So I what I 
suggest," she intoned, "is that he needs an object lesson to get that 
through his skull." Disquiet for her fianc�e's mental health gave way 
to intrigue as Ukyo gleefully realised that she was now a co-conspirator.
 
"Go on," prompted the inquisitive girl.
 
"I'll give him the soap in the mornin', and he'll use it for sure. But 
do you remember what the old geezer said?" Ranma asked. She was unable 
to keep all traces of ire from her tone at the mention of the proprietor 
of the Dragon Whisker supplying restaurant. The taller girl frowned 
momentarily and replied,
 
"You mean about the curse compensating by..."
 
"Exactly. Now how will Pops react when he doesn't change?"
 
"He'll be happy for one," said the chef obviously. Ranma motioned that 
she continue. She mulled over it. "And... he'll probably let his guard 
down as far as... Aha!" She declared triumphantly, "I see where you're 
going with this, you little fiend!" she sniggered while Ranma's face 
adopted a self-satisfied look. "Because he won't be expecting any change, 
he won't be ready with that technique of his that stops his clothes from 
being ripped apart." She looked at the redhead with an undisguised gleam 
in her eye. "Which of us gets to throw the hot water on him?"
 
"Neither. If anyone's going to use hot water it'll be Pops."
 
"You've lost me, Sugar," said Ukyo matter-of-factly. Ranma raised a small 
index finger, and seemingly changed the subject.
 
"Remember when we first came through this town from Sichuan a few weeks 
back?" The brunette nodded, confused as to where Ranma was going with this. 
"And we dropped by that cousin of yours?"
 
"Of course!" remembered Ukyo. "Cousin Megumi." She and her husband ran a 
decent sized Okonomiyaki restaurant downtown, just a pair the of the many 
extended Kuonji family members that riddled the Orient, and provided those 
unfortunate enough to be outside of Japan with the dish they took so seriously, 
they had made a martial art out of it.
 
"We could have stayed there tonight if not for," she sighed, "you know." 
Ranma nodded, as Ukyo brightened. "She told me that we two should drop by 
on our way back, 'assuming that jackass Saotome doesn't get us arrested or 
killed in the meantime'," she paraphrased her cousin. Pausing in thought 
for a moment, Ukyo asked, "Did you ever realise that extended family members 
I've never even met, seem to know Pops' rather 'unsavoury' reputation?"
"I noticed that," answered the redhead amused by the sugarcoated terminology 
that Ukyo used to describe Pops' less than ethical exploits. "Good for them, 
I'd say," volunteered Ranma. Even though being honest with herself, most of 
Genma's immoral and...'sub legal' activities had really tapered off over 
the past few years. Especially with Ucchan and she maturing enough to recognise 
one of his harebrained ideas from a mile away. But that hadn't prevented all 
many of petty thievery while Ucchan and she were still little kids. She 
wondered what the statue of limitations on running out on hotel bills was.
 
"Anyway, Ucchan. I think we should send Pops to your cousin's place to let 
her know that we're back in town."
 
"Honey, are you _sure_ I didn't get you with my spatula?" Ranma understood the 
taller girl's confusion. When they had passed through Xining several weeks 
earlier, Ukyo's elder cousin had to be restrained from attempting to decapitate 
a merrily drunk Genma with the Kuonji family's 'Great-Spatula'. 
It supervened when he had liberated some (that is to say all) of the liquor 
that he had found hidden in a cabinet in the apartment they 
had stayed in, above Megumi's.
 
Smiling at her fianc�e's concern, Ranma answered,
 
"Pops doesn't even remember what happened, Ucchan. You know how drunk he 
was that night? We'll just tell him there's free eats waitin' for him and 
he'll be out of here faster than Tsubasa at the mention of Ryoga's name."
Ranma sniffed at that. True, she may feel that Ryoga was a bit of pain, but 
she had to respect one aspect of him. That being his dedication to keeping 
the little cross-dressing weirdo from bothering Ucchan. 
 
It was right after the first time Ryoga had clobbered the gender-confused 
nuisance, that Ukyo had given him the pet name 'Ryochan'. This of 
course cemented Ryoga's budding attraction towards the brown-haired 
girl into a full on teenage crush.
 
Such things were only natural, Ranma supposed. But it had irritated the 
younger Saotome that along with his crush on Ukyo came an intrinsic 
antipathy to the guy who Ryoga viewed as his rival for the chef's 
affections. The redhead shuddered. She'd much rather have to put up 
with Ryoga's schoolboy resentment than the awkward politeness he'd 
displayed after Jusenkyo. 
 
'Ryoga no hentai', chanted Ranma in her mind.
 
Nonetheless, she couldn't fault him for his Tsubasa pummelling skills. 
Hibiki could get lost in a corridor with only one end, yet had an 
unerring ability to see through the transvestite's most intricate 
disguises. The odd thing was that when Tsubasa chose not to disguise 
himself, instead donning street clothes � which in Kurenai's case 
likely consisted of a sundress and bonnet � Ryoga was unremittingly fooled.
 
Sure, Tsubasa _was_ convincing as a girl, but for god's sake, Ryoga _knew_ 
what he looked like! While an insanely detailed and realistic post-box 
disguise was transparent to the directionally challenged lad, a new hat
or a pair of sunglasses easily threw him off the cross dresser's scent.
 
Putting the thought aside for the time being, Ranma continued, "And 
if Pops does manage to make it to Megumi's it'll only be a bonus."
 
"I don't understand, Ranchan," replied the chef, furrowing her brow 
in what Ranma deigned an exceedingly cute fashion.
 
"Ucchan," she began, "Do you remember exactly where your cousin's 
restaurant is?"
 
"Sure I do," answered Ukyo in a mildly exasperated tone. "Its near 
the bazaars, just outside the... the market..." Ranma winked as 
comprehension dawned. "You devious little minx," proclaimed Ukyo growing 
a nasty grin. "That is evil, Ranchan... Can I help?"
 
o-o-o
 
Dressed in their new outfits, the two teenage girls approached Megumi's. 
They realised from the lack of discernible carnage that they had beaten 
Genma there. Ukyo had availed herself of hot water beforehand. She didn't 
want to speculate on what her family might do to Pop if they discovered he 
had gotten her cursed.
 
They entered to find the restaurant moderately busy. Ukyo knew that would 
soon change with the arrival of the lunch crowd. Ranma and she approached 
the counter, where they saw Megumi's husband preparing an okonomiyaki. 
Without looking up, he acknowledged the two, asking,
 
"What can I get you ladies?" in Mandarin. Grinning, Ukyo replied,
 
"Two Kuonji Specials," in Japanese. He looked up in surprise, which 
quickly changed to recognition, as he gushed,
 
"Ukyo! You back!" in the teens' language. "Megumi will be much relieved 
you still alive," he said jovially. Ukyo laughed with him. "You come, 
and I get her for you."
 
A few minutes later found Ukyo reacquainting herself with her cousin 
as she gave a (thoroughly edited) account of their situation.
 
"So, Genma got you in trouble again, did he?" the shorthaired woman 
said darkly.
 
"No, no!" appeased Ukyo. "All of us were at fault."
 
"Well, I can't really get angry," admitted the woman, fiddling with 
her own massive spatula. "From what I hear, its almost impossible not 
to get in trouble with those Amazons. Some of the strangest customs, 
they have," she mused.
 
"Tell us about it," grumbled Ranma. Megumi turned curious eyes to the 
redhead.
 
"And who are you, dear?" she asked. "Ukyo didn't mention you in her 
tale." Ranma began to pale, recalling that Ukyo had only mentioned Genma's 
curse, even though Megumi thought Ukyo was just pulling her leg.
 
"She was in trouble with the Amazons too," blurted Ukyo quickly. "She 
helped us out, and now they're after her too." That seemed to satisfy the 
woman, as she turned a smile on the short girl.
 
"Well, I certainly won't let anybody who helped my little cousin go 
without thanks. What's your name, dear?" Ranma blinked, giving Ukyo a 
side-glance.
 
"My name?" Megumi nodded. "Ah, its...ah,"
 
"Rapunzel," answered Ukyo, concealing a grin.
 
"Rapunzel-chan, on behalf of the Kuonji Clan, I thank you," intoned 
the woman. Ranma ginned sickly, and turned eyes that promised vengeance 
to Ukyo when Megumi looked away. Ukyo seemed to be having difficulty 
breathing.  Her cousin left the room to help her 
husband with the lunch crowd.
 
"Laugh it up," growled Ranma at Ukyo's mirth, snarling in an absurdly cute manner.
 
"Your expression was priceless!" Wheezed the chef. 
 
When Megumi returned, Ukyo, who had finally overcome her giggles sought 
her attention. Again explaining their need to be away from the pursuing 
Amazon, the older woman pursed her lips thoughtfully.
 
"Dad will help you out," declared Megumi. Ukyo cocked her head, and she 
elucidated. "My father � your father's brother, Ukyo-chan � can get you 
across China � hastily if need be," she added. Ukyo and Ranma contemplated 
what 'connections' were involved, when Megumi laughed at their expression. 
"Don't worry girls. It's nothing illegal." 
 
Well, 'nothing particularly', she amended mentally. 
 
"What I mean is he'll pay your way to Japan." She smiled at their 
hanging jaws. "I make a pretty penny here after, ahem, paying the piper. 
But Dad up in Lanzhou is well, for lack of a better term, rolling in it.
"I'll ring him and let him know what's going on. He'd probably be happy 
to help out regardless. Dad hasn't seen you in years Ukyo-chan. Remember, 
the whole family's looking out for you."
 
Ukyo smiled and was about to reply when a commotion from outside brought 
her and Ranma's heads up. She moved quickly to the large open window Ranma 
had already stationed herself at and motioned for her cousin to join them.
 
o-o-o
 
"Uh-oh..." mumbled Genma when he tried to wipe off yet more foam. "Why is it
bubbling like that?" Realisation hit just as he glanced up at the marketplace 
before him. "OH, SHI-!" 
 
The panda's signed bore the twentieth letter of the alphabet as his gi ripped, 
and his presence in that particular area became slightly more more welcome 
and significantly less healthy. He gulped at the hungry looks he was receiving 
from the dozens of locals, who were all reaching for the quite nasty looking 
instruments of their trade. 
 
o-o-o
 
"Still don't believe me about Pops' curse, Megumi-chan?" posed Ukyo as the 
trio watched the havoc outside the building.
 
A large, wet panda in a torn gi was fending off several dozen determined 
businessmen armed with various implements of taxidermy. Genma bolted through 
the crowded streets as people gawked at the sight of a live panda dashing 
through one of the largest fur markets in Western China.
 
"Is that...?" asked a wide-eyed Megumi.
 
"Uh-huh," chorused the grinning girls. The woman shook her head and began 
snickering.
 
"You _are_ aware that I love you two?"
 
Meanwhile,a furiously dodging Genma somehow found the time to reflect that 
MAYBE there was something to what his son had said about the soap's 
reliability, after all.
 
 

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