“Ranma 1/2: Mechwarrior Team Jusenkyo” Chapter 3
By: James “Phoenix” Jones
[Planet: Moraine -- Lyran Alliance: April 27, 3057 -- Evening]
< > indicates thoughts
{ } indicates conversations over comm systems.
Yuta glanced at the clock impatiently. The time was well past seven-thirty.
He sighed heavily and, pushing himself out of his chair, began to pace back and forth. The
hospital waiting room sported with several pieces of artwork to add a “cheerful” look to the place. A
nurse’s station stood at the far wall. Of course, that was there just for the nurse to sit, it served no real
purpose.
Despite the effort to make the room cheerful, all Yuta could see was a room where people waited
for news, be it good or bad. The whole place seemed to be made to depress him. The fact that he was the
only one in the room, besides the nurse, only added to the feeling of depression.
<I’ve gotta get some better medtech at the hanger.> he said to himself irritably.
It had been well over five hours since the battle with the Falcons. Five hours after four of his
mechwarriors had been wounded, two of them severely. To say he was concerned would be an
understatement.
<I should have heard something by now!> he thought as he continued to pace.
The wounded had originally been taking back to the hanger, but Tofu had pronounced that they
needed more medical attention than Jusenkyo’s sparse medic bay could offer. Reluctantly, Yuta had
agreed and arranged a transport to the Nermia medical ward. The others wanted to go too, but he had
ordered them to stay at the base and wait for him to send word.
“Sir?” asked the young nurse at the desk.
“What?!” Yuta snapped, startling her.
“Um. . . nothing.” she said, turning away.
Yuta shook his head and continued to pace. The nurse continued to watch him nervously, but he
ignored her. A few minutes later, Dr. Tofu walked out of the operating room. Kasumi wasn’t far behind.
Yuta could tell from their expression that something was wrong.
“. . .and make sure she stays under observation.” Yuta heard Dr. Tofu say as he walked to them.
“Well?” asked Yuta.
Kasumi excused herself as Dr. Tofu turned to face Yuta. Yuta stared at the man waiting for him
to say something. Dr. Tofu removed his glasses and wiped his forehead before speaking.
“You may want to sit down.” he said.
“Whatever you’ve got to say, Doc.” Yuta said. “Say it. I doubt its worse than what I’ve heard in
the past.”
Taking a deep breath, Tofu began. “Shampoo got off the lightest.” he said. “She has some
minor joint compression and a couple dozen bruises. Otherwise she’s fine. I’ve already sent her back to
the hanger.”
“Good.” Yuta replied.
“Ranma has a pretty good gash in his left side we had to stitch up and he lost a lot of blood.”
Tofu continued. “But, he’s a fast healer and should be out by morning.”
Again, Yuta nodded.
“Kuno has a fairly mild concussion.” said Tofu. “However, his head is basically solid stone and
he’s already conscious. I’ve got him under observation, but unless something happens, I’m pretty sure
he’ll be out in no more than twenty-four hours. Thirty-six tops.”
Yuta sighed inwardly. “Saving the worst for last. Eh, Doc?” he asked.
“Afraid so, Yuta.” Tofu countered. “Akane has some minor internal bleeding from the impact.
She had four puncture wounds in her chest and lost nearly five pints of blood. She has a nasty gash on her
forehead and her right arm is broken. After that, it’s all a matter of counting burns and bruises.”
“What else?” Yuta asked, sensing Tofu was avoiding something.
Tofu looked away for a second before continuing. “She has a bad concussion.” he said. “As of
yet she hasn’t regained consciousness and her vitals are weak. She’s still on a respirator right now and
I’m afraid to take her off of it.”
“What are her chances.” Yuta asked. As he spoke, he made his voice as cold as possible to keep
his fears in check.
“Right now, the odds are about twenty-five percent.” Tofu answered. “The next twenty four
hours are going to be critical. But she’s at least stable, for the moment.” he added.
“At least she’s alive.” Yuta said. “How long do you think she’ll be unconscious?”
“I don’t have anyway of determining that.” Tofu answered. “But I’d plan on getting a new
Shadow Hawk pilot for that last fight.”
“I don’t give a damn about that fight!” Yuta snapped. “Battlemechs can be replaced and battles
can be fought again. Once a pilot is gone, that’s it!”
Tofu nodded. “I wish more commanders thought like you.” he said, smiling.
Yuta didn’t respond.
“Head back to the base.” said Tofu. “Let the others know what’s going on and just keep going on
with business as usual. I’ll send Ranma and Kuno there as soon as possible.”
“Okay.” Yuta said dryly.
“Okay.” replied Tofu. “You do your job, and leave Akane and the others to me. I won’t let them
slip away easily. That’s a promise.”
Yuta smiled and shook the young doctor’s hand. Turning on his heel, he walked toward the exit
and began the long walk back to the base.
* * *
“A little more to the right!” yelled Genma. “Not _your_ right, _my_ right! Not that way!”
The Shadow Hawk fell back against the support frame with a heavy thud. Tools and equipment
feel to the ground, many just missing Genma. The sound of the framework straining was evident
throughout the hanger.
Leaning out the window of the transport, the young tech yelled, “Sorry, sir! I’m not used to
driving this thing!”
Looking around cautiously, Genma finally decided there were no more falling objects. A
moment later he said, “Boy, I hope you’re better at making repairs then you are at driving.”
“Don’t worry, sir.” answered the boy. “Uncle Tsubasa’s been training me for a couple of years.
I’m not too bad.”
Genma groaned inwardly. Normally, Soun was responsible for positioning the mechs for repairs,
however, having his youngest daughter critically wounded had put a severe strain on his nerves. A strain
that was compounded by the fact that they had had no word on her condition.
Soun had worked for nearly an hour with no problem, after which he had contacted the hospital
for any word. When no one could tell him what had happened, Soun had burst into tears and nearly
collapsed. After the waterfall of tears had subsided, Genma thought it best to take him off duty. Of
course, without Soun, Genma was forced to work with Tsubasa and his techs, alone.
<Sometimes I think fate has it in for me.> thought Genma. Looking around, he saw the other
mechs had been loaded and some techs were already working on most of them.
“Oh, Genma!”
Genma groaned. Turning around he faced Tsubasa and asked, “What is it, boy.”
Tsubasa smiled sweetly and Genma shivered. Even dressed in Steiner tech coveralls, Tsubasa
looked more like a girl than a boy and his mannerisms added to the effect. Rumors about the young
man’s “peculiar” behavior were rampant around Nermia, but to date, none had been proven. Still, the
young tech gave Genma the creeps.
“Overall,” said Tsubasa. “There isn’t too much damage, just some dented armor here and there.
The Hatchetman is going to need all new forward armor. However, what you’ll have to worry about is the
Shadow Hawk and the Phoenix Hawk.”
“Leave the Phoenix Hawk to me.” said Genma. “You take care of the rest.”
“Okay!” said Tsubasa in his high girl-like voice. Turning, he ran to the Shadow Hawk and
began giving orders to his techs. Genma shivered again.
<I’m glad he doesn’t’ have to live here.> Genma thought to himself.
When he was sure Tsubasa had the rest of the repairs underway, he moved toward Ranma’s
Phoenix Hawk and began to asses the damage. As he worked, his thoughts turned to wondering if Ranma
was okay.
When they had brought Ranma back to the hanger, he had been unconscious and had a bandage
wound tight around his side. In his heart, Genma knew Ranma would be fine, but his mind was a
different story. He, like Soun, was beginning to wonder why he hadn’t heard anything yet.
<Surely, Nodoka would have contacted me by now.> he thought. <Unless. . .unless the
boy. . .naw, that can’t be it.>
Pushing all negative thought from his mind, Genma returned to his work. He only hoped that
when he got the mech fixed, his son would still be around to pilot it.
* * *
Seated on the tread of one of the transports, Ryouga watched the exchange between Tsubasa and
Genma silently. Despite himself, he smiled. Although he was no real friend to Tsubasa, he had to admit
the tech made him laugh. However, when Tusbasa walked away, Ryouga shifted his gaze upward to the
damaged Shadow Hawk and his smile fell away.
The mech was facing the wall, the damage on its back displayed mockingly for Ryouga. Most of
the mech’s dorsal side had caved inward and the outline of the fusion engine was just barely visible. In
his five years as a pilot, Ryouga couldn’t remember seeing a mech with more damage, short of one
exploding.
<And it's all my fault.> he thought, looking down at the ground. <I should have been more
careful. Maybe. . . maybe if I hadn’t. . .>
“Ryouga?”
His thoughts fell away as Ukyou walked in front of him. “I don’t really want to talk right now
Ucchan.” he said.
“Ryouga, what’s wrong?” Ukyou asked, worried. “You’ve been. . . well. . . ‘preoccupied,’ since
the battle.”
“Just thinking.” he answered.
“About what.”
“None of your business!” he screamed, not thinking.
Ukyou recoiled in shock, but didn’t walk away. “I know you’re worried about Akane and the
others, but don’t be.” she said. “They’ll be just fine.” As she finished, she smiled at him warmly.
Ryouga shook his head sullenly. “And what if they aren’t ‘just fine,’ Ukyou?” he asked.
Ukyou looked at him, her smile turning to a look of concern. “What’s wrong, Ryouga?” she
asked. “You can tell me.”
“You see the condition that Shadow Hawk’s in?” Ryouga asked, pointing at the damaged mech.
Ukyou turned around to look at it. Turning back she said, “Yeah, I see it. But what’s that got to
do with anything?”
“That’s my fault.” he answered bluntly. Ukyou stared at him in shock.
“I. . . I don’t understand.” she said.
“I lost my balance for a minute.” Ryouga said. “One of the downed mechs shot me and I pulled
the trigger by accident when I was trying to keep my mech up.”
“Then it wasn’t your fault.” Ukyou said. “It was the mech that shot you.”
“Ukyou?”
“Yes.”
Ryouga looked down at her, marveling at how beautiful her eyes were. “Could you just. . . I
mean. . . I just want to be alone right now. Okay?”
Ukyou looked at him, her eyes pleading. At length she said, “Alright. If you want to talk, you
know where to find me.”
Ryouga said nothing as he watched her walk away. Once she was gone, he leaned up against the
transport’s gun turret and, closing his eyes, let his grief wash over him.
“Truly a pity.”
The sound made Ryouga open his eyes. Mousse stood before him facing the Shadow Hawk.
“What’d you mean, Mousse?” Ryouga asked.
Turning Mousse said, “Wha. . . Ryouga Hibiki! I did not see you there.”
“S’okay.” Ryouga countered.
“I was merle thinking.” Mousse said. “It is truly a waste for Akane Tendo to be injured so. She
is an excellent mechwarrior.”
<Don’t I know it.> Ryouga thought.
“Still,” Mousse continued. “She is only a freeborn. Eventually, this was bound to happen.”
Without thinking Ryouga sprung at Mousse. The movement caught the clansman off guard and
sent him flying to the ground.
“Ryouga Hibiki,” Mousse said. “What are you doing?”
In response, Ryouga attacked again. Mousse tried to counter, but even his clan training could not
compensate against Ryouga’s rage and stamina. A few seconds later, Ryouga pinned Mousse against the
transport’s wheel by his throat.
“What. . . what is wrong, Ryouga Hibiki? What. . . what did. . . I do?” Mousse stammered,
gasping for air.
“Don’t you ever, _ever_ call Akane ‘only a freeborn,’ Mousse. Do you understand?”
“I merle stated a fact.” Mousse gasped.
Ryouga released him roughly. “Fact or no fact, Mousse, you shouldn’t have said it.”
Mousse rubbed his throat gently, trying to ease the burning he felt. “If I have offended you, I am
sorry, Ryouga Hibiki. . . I. . .”
“Just ‘Ryouga,’ Mousse.” Ryouga interrupted.
“What?”
“I’m not part of the clan, Mousse!” Ryouga screamed. “You don’t have to call me by my first
_and_ last name!”
“Very well then, Ryouga.” Mousse said. “But I stand by what I said. All of you are, and always
shall be, freeborns.”
Ryouga felt his rage building again, but this time he held back. “Wrong, Mousse.” he said.
“What?”
“You’re wrong.” Ryouga repeated. “Outside of the clan, there is no such thing as a freeborn or a
trueborn. Outside the clan, we’re all just humans.”
“I do not understand.”
Ryouga shook his head. “I don’t really expect you to.” he said. “Hate and vengeance drive the
clan, Mousse. The truth would only weaken the clan so they keep it locked up.”
“That is blasphemy.” Mousse countered.
“Okay.” Ryouga retorted. “If freeborns are so inferior, then explain Kernesky. Wasn’t he a
freeborn?”
Mousse was shocked. He wanted to answer, but couldn’t find the words.
“We’re all human and, believe it or not, we’re all you’re friends.” Ryouga said. “Think about
it.”
That said, Ryouga walked away, leaving Mousse in silence.
[Planet: Moriane -- Lyran Alliance: April 28, 3057 -- Late afternoon]
Ranma walked quietly around the catwalk above the mech bay. Below him, techs rushed to and
fro trying to fix the damaged battlemechs.
Ever since he’d been sent back to the hanger earlier, he had held a dark cloud of guilt around
him. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get the image of Akane’s injured form out of his mind. The
news he had received of her condition wasn’t helping much either.
No matter what he tried to tell himself, he knew that what had happened was his fault. Any way
he tried to slice it, it was his fault. As he thought, he continued to walk around the catwalk. He stopped
as he found himself above his damaged Phoenix Hawk.
Looking down at it, he marveled at how much it reminded him of Akane. The damage it had
received was severe and, just like Akane, the damage was his fault. Absentmindedly, he scratched the
bandage that covered his side, unsure of weither to help with the repairs or stay out of everybody’s way.
As he looked on, he remembered how he had gotten the LAM (a rare mech these days) in the
first place. It had been a gift from Kodachi’s father after he had saved the girl’s life. Although he refused
it at first, in favor of heavier mechs, he had eventually come to enjoy the speed and maneuvering the LAM
had to offer.
The mech had carried him through almost fifty missions. Now, if his father couldn’t fix it, he
would never have the opportunity to fly it again. Suddenly, he stirred from his musing as he felt someone
take hold of his arm. He didn’t have to look to see who it was.
“K-o-d-a-c-h-i.” he said slowly.
“Oh, my darling Ranma.” she said, snuggling against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I could help you
yesterday.”
“Don’t worry about it?” he said slowly.
“But I have worried, Ranma darling.” she said. “I was unable to sleep all night because of it.”
“Kodachi. . .”
“Please, Ranma darling.” she said, “If this ever happens again, please allow me to stay with you
at the hospital until you are released!”
“Dr. Tofu said I not to let me out until noon.” he said angrily. “So they didn’t let me out till
noon, okay!?”
“HAHAHAHA!” Kodachi laughed. “The good Dr. Tofu must think you weak. You where well
enough to leave the moment you were admitted, weren’t you? Unlike a certain peasant I could mention.”
Ranma pushed her away angrily. “Don’t you _ever_ say that, Kodachi.” he snapped. “I mean
it!”
Kodachi pouted and turned away. <He’s just playing hard to get.> she said to herself. <Well, I
can do that as well.> Leaning over the railing slightly, she looked down at Ranma’s damaged mech.
“Ranma darling!” she said. “Your Phoenix Hawk is in terrible shape. Would you like me to
contact my father and arrange for a new mech for you?”
“No.” Ranma said coldly, turning away.
“But, Ranma darling.” she said. “As a future member of the Kuno family, you _must_ have the
best equipment on hand, it is tradition.”
Ranma turned around to face her. “And when did I become ‘a future member of the Kuno
family’?” he asked.
“When you saved me, of course.” Kodachi answered, eyes fluttering. “Remember, you saw me in
danger and risked everything to save me. Ever since then, I have loved no other.”
“Kodachi.” Ranma said.
“Yes, my love.”
“Two years ago,” he began. “When I saved you, I didn’t know that you were a girl, and at the
time I didn’t really care. I saw two clan mechs taking apart a spheroid mech and I helped you out. _Any_
mechwarrior with even a _little_ compassion would have done the exact same thing.”
“You mean, you _didn’t_ intend to save me?” Kodachi asked, sounding surprised.
At this point, Ranma would normally have thought of some excuse to get away from her.
However, his anger and guilt, combined with Kodachi’s constant nagging over the last two years was
more than enough to override his normal demeanor. “Listen to me, Kodachi.” he said. “And listen
good.”
“As you wish my love.” she said.
“No!” he said, his voice cold. “I am _not_ your, love and I am _not_ your ‘darling’ Ranma!”
“But. . .”
“I’m not finished!” he said. “I don’t love you Kodachi. I never have and. . . I never will.”
Kodachi stared at him, tears streaking her face. “How can you say that? Do you hate me that
much?”
Ranma shut his eyes and looked away. If he had one weakness, it was seeing a girl cry, however,
this time he had to stand his ground. “I’m telling you the truth, Kodachi.” he continued. “I don’t love
you, but I don’t hate you either. You’re my friend.”
“Just. . . just a. . . a friend?” Kodachi stammered.
“And that is all we’ll ever be.” he answered coldly.
Kodachi stood and faced him. Her black eyes staring at him like ice. Wiping her face on her
sleeve she said, “If that is how _you_ want it, fine!”
Turning away, Kodachi walked quickly toward the ladder. Before she descended she turned and
faced him again. “I still love you, Ranma.” she said coldly. “But if I cannot have your love, then I do not
want your friendship. Farewell.” With that, she was gone.
Ranma hung his head and sighed. Turning around, he was surprised to see Ukyou behind him.
“What was that all about?” Ukyou asked.
Ranma shook his head and looked away. “Nothing.” he said.
“Didn’t look like nothing to me.” Ukyou countered.
Again, Ranma shook his head angrily. “You don’t know Ucchan.” he said. “I didn’t want to be
that cold to Kodachi, but she hasn’t left me a whole lot of options. That, and today wasn’t the best day to
try and patronize me.”
“I know how you feel, Ranchan.” she said. “Ryouga’s pretty depressed about what happened too.
I told him not to worry, but he thinks its his fault.”
Ranma exhaled sharply and looked away. “Well, you can tell him not to worry.” he said. “Cause
it wasn’t his fault.”
“You know that, and I know that.” Ukyou said. “But right now Ryouga doesn’t.”
Ranma said nothing.
“Anyway, I came up here to tell you that Yuta’s been looking for you.”
Ranma nodded. <Guess I couldn’t hide forever.> he thought. “Ucchan?”
“Yes?”
“Your a good friend.” he said. “You always have been. Promise me you always will be.”
Ukyou smiled at him warmly. “I promise. . ., Ranchan.” she said.
“Thanks.” Ranma answered. “Now to go find Yuta.”
“He’s in his office.” said Ukyou.
Ranma nodded and walked away, leaving Ukyou to ponder what was really bothering him.
* * *
Ranma stood silently before the door to Yuta’s office. He’d been dreading this moment ever
since he had returned to the base. As he reached for the door knob, he paused.
<What am I doing here?> Ranma asked himself.
Unconsciously, he turned to the alcove Nabiki usually occupied. She wasn’t there, of course.
She’d been so worried about her sister that she had stayed at the hospital all night. Ranma mentally
cursed himself. Normally, when he paused outside of Yuta’s door, Nabiki would throw something at him
and tell him to hurry up. Oh how he wished she was there to do that now!
Finding no help in the dark alcove, he reluctantly grasped the knob, and slowly opened the door.
As he entered, he saw that Yuta was facing away from him. For a moment, he thought about
slipping back out the door and running away, but he knew that would be a bad idea. Steeling himself, he
walked in, closing the door behind him. As he reached Yuta’s desk, he stood at attention and waited.
At length, Yuta stood and turned to faced him, but said nothing.
Ranma involuntarily shivered. The look in Yuta’s eyes made Ranma more nervous than
anything the older man could have said. Fighting against the lump in his throat, Ranma asked,
“You. . . you wanted to see me, Yuta?”
Yuta remained silent.
“Yuta?” Ranma asked.
Yuta continued to stare coldly at Ranma. Opening his desk, he casually removed something, but
kept it hidden from Ranma’s gaze. Closing the drawer, he gently set a small box in front of Ranma.
Ranma stared dumbly at the box. “What is it?” Ranma asked nervously.
Sitting down again, Yuta leaned back in his chair and smiled warmly. “Open it.” he said.
“But. . . but, what _is_ it?” Ranma asked.
Yuta shrugged his shoulders. “You’ll never know if you don’t open it.” he answered.
Reluctantly, Ranma took the box and opened it. Inside he found a small, circular medal.
Removing it, he saw the phrase “One-Hundred Kills,” stenciled lightly on the otherwise smooth surface.
“This. . . this is. . .” Ranma began.
“Congratulations, Ranma.” Yuta said coldly. “You just got the award for the team kill record.”
Ranma said nothing, he simply stared at the medal in his hand. It couldn’t have been more than
a few ounces, but to him, it felt like he was trying to lift a battlemech. “I. . . I. . . I don’t. . .” he began.
“No need for a victory speech, Ranma.” Yuta said, cutting him off. “You’ve wanted that medal
since the first day you got here. Well, now you’ve got it.”
Again, Ranma was speechless.
“What’s wrong?” Yuta asked. “Aren’t you happy?”
“No.” Ranma answered unconsciously.
Yuta nodded his head slightly. “Wasn’t worth the price you had to pay to get it, huh?” he said.
“It. . . I. . .” Ranma stammered, trying to work past the lump in his throat. “What price?” he
finally blurted.
“Damn near killing one of your teammates. That’s what.”
“I. . . I’m not sure, what you mean.” Ranma said, trying to sound innocent.
“Don’t lie, Ranma.” countered Yuta. “I know what happened out there, your black box told me
the whole story.”
“You. . .you know?” Ranma asked.
“The whole thing.” Yuta answered.
“Th. . . then why. . . why give this to me?”
Yuta shifted his gaze for a moment, then said, “You wanted it and you earned it. I can’t, in all
good conscious, refuse to give it to you.”
“It was an accident.” Ranma said lamely. “The missiles, I mean.”
“Maybe.” Yuta said. “But it was an accident that could, no _should_, have been avoided.”
“It’s not like I could have stopped those missiles!” Ranma yelled.
“No.” Yuta said, his voice angry. “But I guarantee that you had at least thirty seconds to tell
Ryouga to move one way or the other.”
“So what if I did!” Ranma countered. “I got a little worried and I didn’t pay attention!”
Standing, Yuta slammed his fist into the desk, toppling several small items. “Don’t feed me that,
Saotome.” he screamed.
“Look I don’t have to take this!” Ranma shouted. “It’s not like I did it on purpose or nothin’!”
“I know that.” Yuta said, calming down. “But you were paying perfect attention, weren’t you?”
“Huh?”
“You knew those missiles had a damn good chance of hitting Ryouga, didn’t you?” Yuta asked.
“But you were too busy thinking about that medal to do anything about it.”
Ranma remained silent. Although his mind wanted him to try and diffuse the situation, his heart
wouldn’t let him.
“I’m right aren’t I?” Yuta asked.
Ranma nodded gloomily.
“I thought so.” said Yuta. “You wanted that medal more than anything, Ranma. You were
willing to do whatever it took, pay any price to get it, weren’t you?”
“Yes.” Ranma answered.
Yuta nodded silently. “There’s just one thing I want to know now.” he said.
“What?” Ranma asked.
“What kind of medal do you want if Akane dies?”
Ranma jerked at the words. Each one slammed into him like a PPC bolt. “If she. . . what kinda
question is that!?”
“A legitimate one.” Yuta answered, his voice calm and robot like.
“Look.” said Ranma. “I admit that I’m not perfect, but no mechwarrior is!”
Shaking his head calmly, Yuta said, “You’re a lot of things, Ranma, but you’re no
mechwarrior.”
Ranma felt the hold on his temper break. “How can you say I’m no mechwarrior?” he shouted.
“I’m not some academy hot shot wannabe. I pilot a battlemech almost every day of my life now. I _am_ a
mechwarrior.” He stopped trying to calm down enough to think.
“You’re wrong.” said Yuta. “Piloting a mech does _not_ make you a mechwarrior.
Mechwarriors, _real_ mechwarriors, live by an unwritten code: They believe in each other, they trust and
respect each other, they help each other when necessary and they don’t do what you did!”
Ranma was speechless.
“Like I said, you’re a lot of things, but you’re no mechwarrior.” Yuta said, as he took his seat
again. “And do you know what the sad thing is?”
“No. . . what?” Ranma replied.
“The sad thing, Ranma, is that if Akane dies, you never will be a mechwarrior. Because you’ll
never know if she would have forgiven you.”
Ranma he could feel his energy draining and his legs started to feel weak. He could feel his
mouth moving, but no sound escaped.
“You are dismissed, Lieutenant Saotome.” Yuta said. “I want you to think, long and hard, about
what I just told you.”
Dumbly, Ranma walked away. As he reached the door, he turned to face Yuta and said, “I’m
sorry.”
Yuta looked at him, pity replacing the coldness of his expression. “I’m not the one you need to
apologize to.” he said calmly.
* * *
Outside in the mechbay, Genma shook his head gloomily at Tsubasa’s evaluation of the Shadow
Hawk.
“Isn’t there _anything_ you can do?” Genma asked.
Tsubasa shook his head, swishing his long hair over his shoulder. “Sorry.” he said. “The
damage is too extensive. If I had a couple of months, I may be able to do something, but . . . well, you get
the idea. We’ve spent the last couple of hours going over it from every angle.”
“And?” asked Genma.
“And, they all point to the same conclusion.” Tsubasa answered.
Genma nodded. “Well, salvage what you can.” he said. “Maybe we can mount some of its
weapons on another mech.”
“Okay!” Tsubasa chimed.
“Genma!”
Genma turned around and saw Yuta walking toward him. “Hello, Yuta.” he said. “Did you find
Ranma?”
“Yeah, I talked to him two or three hours ago.” Yuta replied. “What’s the good word?”
“Well,” Genma began. “We had some more damage to the Victor than we first thought.
Ranma’s Phoenix Hawk is repairable, but we have to find a way to replace the conversion systems. The
Hatchetman needs a full forward armor replacement. And the Shadow Hawk. . . well. . . what can I say?”
Yuta nodded. “Any salvage off of it?”
“According to Tsubasa its Gauss Rifle and Medium Laser are useable.” said Genma. “We can
salvage a couple of heat sinks, plus some other internals. We can also strip most of its remaining armor.
Other than that, its just a load of scrap.”
“Well, just do what you can, Genma.” said Yuta.
“By the way, Yuta. Do you think your friend can help out with some of the materials?” Genma
asked.
“Maybe.” Yuta replied. “What do you need?”
As before, Genma handed Yuta a materials list. After looking over it, Yuta told him he’d see
what he could do.
“What do you want us to do about the Gauss Rifle and the Medium Laser off the Shadow Hawk?”
Genma asked.
“Will they fit on anything else?”
Genma paused and looked around the room. “Might work on the Crusader.” he said. “Of course
we’d have to strip the LRMs.”
Yuta looked away, thinking. “Okay.” he said. “But talk to Ukyou first. If she says okay, do it.”
“Yes, sir.” said Genma as he walked away.
Turning, Yuta headed for the comm room to call Gosonkugi.
* * *
Ranma sat on the catwalk watching the techs as they hurried to make repairs. Across form him,
he watched Tsubasa begin to strip the weapons off the Shadow Hawk. The sight made him cringe as he
realized the mech’s time had finally come. Sighing, he looked down toward his own damaged mech.
The Phoenix Hawk was still in its hybrid mode, its conversion systems having been nearly
destroyed. Ranma gazed at the mech fondly.
Lifting his head, he looked again at the Shadow Hawk. In his mind, he could still see Akane’s
broken body and he wondered if she would ever be able to pilot a mech again. He tried to look away, but
couldn’t. In the back of his mind, he could still hear Yuta’s question.
<What kind of medal do you want if Akane dies?> thought Ranma, remembering Yuta’s words.
<I don’t want a medal.> Ranma told himself. <I don’t want Akane to die. I didn’t mean for this
to happen!>
Ranma’s chain of thought grew more and more depressing and he began to wonder if this was
how Ryouga felt sometimes. Leaning forward, he rested his arms and chin on the railing. Hoping to lose
himself in memories of happier times.
“Ranma?”
Ranma looked to his right and came face to face (almost) with Ranko. Her face was puffy and
her eyes were dark red. Ranma could immediately tell she had been crying.
“Sis, you okay?” he asked, concerned.
Ranko looked at him silently. “Is. . . is Akane gonna die?” she asked, her voice shaking.
The words stabbed at Ranma’s heart as if they were daggers. In all the confusion of the others
being wounded, and subsequent treatment of his own injuries, he had completely forgotten about his
sister. He never thought about it before but Ranko, being the youngest, was always left out by the others.
Sure, she would tag along with one of her parents, or occasional her brother, but sure enough, she would
almost always be abandoned for some reason or another. Ranma had always tried to be there for her, but
it wasn’t always easy. Ranko always pretended nothing was wrong, but Ranma knew it was all a show.
Thinking back, he realized that Akane had more or less adopted Ranko as her own little sister.
Akane had always been there to help her out, or to play with her when the others were busy. In fact,
Akane was more of a sibling to Ranko than Ranma had ever been. And now, she was in danger of losing
her foster sister.
Choking back a lump in his throat, Ranma said, “Sure, Sis. Akane’s gonna be just fine.”
Ranko tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat as she began to cry again.
“Come on, Ranko.” said Ranma. “Only babies, cry. Akane’ll be fine, you’ll see.” As he
finished, he slowly wiped her tears away with his finger.
“But, but . . . mom said. . . said. . .” Ranko couldn’t finish. Rushing forward, she hugged her
brother tightly. Ranma, not really sure what to do, hugged back and let her cry on his shoulder. A
moment later, he started patting her back softly, trying to calm her down.
“Come on, Ranko.” he said. “You know Akane. I mean. . . she’ll be fine. After all, she’s tough
as an ox and built like a brick and. . .”
Ranko continued to sob. “Ranma, you always say that to her.” she said between sobs. “Did you
ever stop to think about her feelings?”
“Huh?” Ranma asked.
Ranko leaned away and wiped her eyes. “She really likes you, Ranma.” Ranko pleaded. “She
won’t tell you, but she did tell me. I. . . I promised to keep it a secret but. . .”
“She. . . likes me?” Ranma asked.
“Uh-huh.” Ranko sobbed. “But she won’t say so cause you’re always so mean to her!”
Ranma shock his head slightly. <I didn’t know.> he thought.
A moment later, Ranko laid her head back on his shoulder and continued to cry. Ranma held her
tightly, comforting her as much as possible. “It’ll be okay.” Ranma said. “You’ll see.”
Eventually, Ranko’s sobs tapered off and she relaxed her hug. Ranma realized she had finally
cried herself to sleep. Standing, he cradled her gently in his arms and walked from the catwalk to the
barracks.
Upon reaching his room, he gently laid his sister on his bed. Placing his pillow under her head,
he made sure she was comfortable and pulled his blanket over her. He stood up and began to back away,
but thought better of it at the last moment.
Leaning forward, he kissed Ranko lightly on her forehead. Ranko smiled, but didn’t wake up.
Ranma smiled too. Turning off the lights, he quietly left, closing the door behind him.
* * *
Yuta switched off the comm unit and stretched. Looking at the materials list, he shook his head.
Gosonkugi had promised to get most of the equipment out two him within the next fifteen to
twenty-four hours. However, he didn’t have any equipment to repair the Phoenix Hawks conversion
systems. Yuta sighed.
<Its not like the same trick would have worked twice.> he thought. <But we probably could have
used the air support.>
Looking at the chronometer, he saw that it was well past midnight. <Time sure flies.> he
thought.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps in the corridor. Straightening himself up, he said, “Come on in
however.”
To his surprise, Ranma rounded the corner.
“Sir?” he said.
Like a thunderbolt, Yuta snapped awake. In the four years he’d known Ranma, the young man
had never once started a conversation by calling him “sir.” He was sure it signified something bad.
“What’s wrong, Ranma?” he asked.
“I’m going in to town for a while.” Ranma answered. “I just wanted to let you know in case
somebody asks about me.”
“Since when do you ask permission to leave?”
“Since now.”
Yuta looked at Ranma and smiled. “Been thinking about what I said this morning haven’t you?”
“Yeah.” Ranma answered. “And there’s something I’d like you to do for me.”
“What?”
“I’d like you to take me off the combat roster.” Ranma said. “Indefinitely.”
Yuta shook his head. “Request denied.”
“Huh!?”
“Request denied, Ranma.” Yuta repeated. “I’m not going to help you run away.”
“I’m not running!”
“Believe it or not, Ranma, that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
“But. . .” Ranma began.
“Listen to me, Ranma.” said Yuta. “Because of you, the team is going to be one pilot short in the
final duel.”
“Thanks for reminding me.” Ranma said.
“But,” Yuta continued. “Do you think it’ll help our chances much if another pilot looses his
nerve at the last minute.”
Ranma seemed to consider this for a moment, then said, “You’re right.”
“If you want to go see, Akane, then go.” said Yuta. “But you stay on the roster.”
As Yuta stood up to leave, Ranma nodded silently. As Yuta was about to walk through the door,
Ranma said, “Yuta?”
“What?”
“I don’t want that medal so bad anymore.”
Yuta smiled. “I’m glad.”
* * *
As he walked out of the elevator, Ranma took a moment to take in his surroundings
<I hate hospitals.> he said to himself.
Not really caring which direction he went in, he turned right. He wanted to take his time finding
Akane’s room, but found it earlier than he expected.
Looking through the window on the door, he saw that the bed was shielded from view by a
curtain. Pushing his fears as far into himself as possible, he opened the door and walked in, pushing the
curtain aside slightly. To his surprise, Shampoo stood beside the injured girl arranging some flowers on a
desk.
“Nihoa, Ranma.” she said.
“Um. . . hi, Shampoo.” Ranma replied. “What are you doing here?”
“Is old Inner Sphere custom,” Shampoo answered. “Always bring flowers to friends when in
hospital.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Ranma, you alright?”
Ranma didn’t answer right away. He looked away searching for the right words. “Shampoo?”
“Yes?”
“I. . . um. . . I’m sure Akane, would really appreciate the flowers, but could you. . .”
“Is okay, Ranma.” Shampoo interrupted. “Shampoo know you very worry for Akane. Shampoo
leave you alone.”
“Th. . .thanks.”
Shampoo nodded and walked past him. Before she left she said, “Ranma no worry. Akane much
strong.”
“Right.” he replied. “Thanks, Shampoo.”
Shampoo smiled and walked out. Ranma watched silently as the door swung shut behind her.
<Akane’s lucky to have a friend like you.> he thought. Turning from the door, he looked at
Akane for the first time since the battle. The damage was evident.
Three IV tubes were connected to her arm and a heart monitor beeped steadily. Her chest rose
and fell slowly, a motion caused more by a respirator then by her own body, and Ranma could just make
out the lines of the bandages beneath the thin material of her sheet. Her right arm, locked in a metal
brace, hung limp from the suspender above her. A white bandage was wrapped tightly around her head
and several burns and cuts marred the skin on her neck and shoulders.
Her eyes were, of course, closed. Ranma marveled at how peaceful she looked. Taking his eyes
away from her, he searched the room for a chair.
Finding a small stool, he pulled it to the side of the bed and sat down.
“Yo, Tomboy.” he teased.
Akane made no response.
“Akane?” he asked.
Akane still made no response.
“Look,” Ranma began. “I. . .I know I haven’t always been. . . well . . . you know. . . nice to you.
But you’ve. . . I mean. . . well. . . you’ve. . . been a good friend. I. . . um. . . I. . .” he trailed off.
As Ranma tried to sort his thoughts, he unconsciously rested his arms on the bed’s railing and
hung his head slightly.
* * *
Nabiki walked slowly back to Akane’s room. <I hate hospitals.> she thought, <There too. . .
hospital-like.>
Reaching the room, she turned the knob and opened the door. She stopped short as she saw
Ranma perched on the stool she had occupied earlier.
<What’s he doing here?> she asked herself.
For a moment, she began to speak, but stopped. In the back of her mind, she knew she had to let
this play out.
* * *
Ranma’s mind was running in circles as he searched for the right words. Finally, he said the
only thing he could.
“It should have been me.” he said. “This. . . this is all my fault. It was Ryouga’s missiles that hit
you, but it. . . was my fault he shot them. I. . . I’m sorry, Akane.”
Again, Akane gave no indication that she had heard him.
Without thinking, Ranma reached out and took her uninjured hand in his own. Lifting it off the
bed, he held it gently. “There’s just. . . just so much. . .I. . .” he began. “I. . . I just thought that I’d
always have time to. . . to . . .” again, he trailed off.
He could feel tears beginning to flow and the lump rise in his throat. He needed to say more, but
couldn’t.
“Just don’t die.” he finally managed to say.
“Ranma?”
The sudden noise made Ranma turn around rapidly, letting Akane’s hand fall back to the bed.
To his surprise, Nabiki stood behind him. Her expression bordered between sorrow and hatred.
“Did. . . you hear that?” he blurted out.
“Yes.” she answered, nodding curtly.
Ranma looked away and stood. “I’ll. . . um. . . I guess I better, you know. . . leave.” he
stammered.
“Was it really your fault?” Nabiki asked as she moved to block the door.
“Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t.” he answered. “Either way, what I did caused it.”
Nabiki walked to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Then, your the reason she’s here,
aren’t you?” she asked, her voice tinged with anger.
“Yeah.” Ranma said at length.
Removing her hand, Nabiki walked to the other side of Akane’s bed and turned to face him.
Ranma refused to look at her. “I guess I should hate you now, Saotome.” Nabiki said.
“I wouldn’t blame you.” said Ranma.
“But I won’t.” Nabiki retorted.
Ranma looked up in surprise. “Why?” he asked, suspicious.
“I know I seem cold sometimes, Ranma.” she answered. “But I care about, Akane. She is my
little sister after all.”
“I care about her too.” he said.
“Do you really mean that?”
“Yeah.” said Ranma. “I do.”
“Do you want to stay?”
“Yes.”
“‘Yes,’ what?”
“Yes.” Ranma countered. “I want to stay.”
Nabiki nodded and walked back around the bed toward the door. “This doesn’t mean I forgive
you, Ranma. It just means you can stay.”
“I know.” he said.
Nabiki nodded and walked out. Once she was gone, Ranma sat back down. A moment later, he
again took Akane’s hand in his own.
Thinking back to something his mother had once said about people when they were unconscious,
Ranma began to relate some of his old memories to Akane. He started slowly, telling her about some of
his training and the like, but eventually began relating some of the things they had done together during
their time with Jusenkyo. As he talked, he failed to notice the heart monitor display showing her heart
jump at his words.
[Planet: Moraine -- Lyran Alliance: April 29 -- Afternoon]
For the time of day, the Nekohaten was unusually crowded. All around, people talked and
laughed, veterans telling stories to amuse their friends. But, to one patron, the merriment fell upon deaf
ears.
Mousse sat alone in the farthest corner of the small bar, oblivious to the others. As he sat, he idly
shook the half empty glass of sake, staring at it intently. All the while he thought over what Ryouga had
said.
Mousse realized that part of him believed Ryouga. After all, weren’t the warriors Kernesky lead
into the exodus, freeborns? That much he knew, but the clan teachings which stated that freebirths were
inferior still held strong.
<I wish I could see things as you would like me to see them, Ryouga Hibiki.> he thought.
“A C-Bill for you thoughts.”
The comment stirred the young clansman from his musings. Looking up, he saw Cologne sitting
on the table in front of him. The sudden appearance of her wrinkled, caricature-like features nearly made
Mousse laugh, but he stifled it at the last minute.
“I am simply contemplating the events of the last battle, Cologne-sensei.” Mousse replied.
“You must be.” said Cologne, bemused. “Otherwise you’d have downed that sake by now.”
The attempt at humor was feeble at best, but Mousse found it funny and laughed.
“My, my.” said Cologne. “Was that a laugh I heard?”
At this, Mousse’s expression hardened. “What did you mean by that Cologne-sensei?”
“I just meant that it was a change, that’s all.” she answered. “You’re usually so serious all the
time.”
Mousse stared at her for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “If you had seen what I have seen,
done what I have done, you would be serious as well, Cologne-sensei.” he said at length.
“What do you mean?”
Mousse shook his head slightly and said, “I was not always like this, Cologne-sensei. During the
time in my sibko, I always had a smart-alec remark on my tongue. Even when I knew I would be
punished for it.”
Cologne stared at him, wide eyed. She just couldn’t picture the serious clansman sitting before
her as a happy young man. Finally, she asked, “Why the change of heart?”
“Things happen, Cologne-sensei.” Mousse replied.
“I don’t understand?”
Mousse snapped his head up and glared at her. “How can you expect to understand!?” snapped
angrily. “You are not of the clans! You are not a mechwarrior! All you are is a. . .” he trailed off before
he finished the sentence. After his “talk” with Ryouga, he couldn’t bring himself to say “freebirth.”
“Sorry.” Cologne said sarcastically. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have customers to attend to.”
With that, she jumped off the table and walked away.
“Wait, Cologne-sensei! I . . . I . . . um. . . oh what’s the use?!”
“I agree.”
The comment caught Mousse off guard. “What?” he asked as he turned to face the new speaker.
To his surprise, Herb was standing behind him.
“I said,” Herb began. “I agree with you. What is the use of trying to understand freebirths.”
Mousse said nothing as Herb took the seat opposite him. As he sat, Cologne returned and asked
them if they wanted any drinks. Herb ordered a glass of sake, but Mousse sat completely still. Once she
was gone, Herb continued.
“It is good to see you, Star Commander Mousse.” said Herb.
“I wish I could say the feeling was mutual, Star Captain Herb.” Mousse replied.
Herb laughed and said, “Well, mutual or not, I need to speak with you.”
“On what matter.”
Cologne returned with the drink before Herb could finish. He took the glass and handed two C-
bills to Cologne, who immediately walked way. Once he downed a large gulp of the sake, Herb continued.
“Simply to congratulate a fellow mechwarrior.”
“What?” Mousse asked, again caught off guard.
“I am simply glad that your skills have not dulled.” Herb countered. “I mean, I consider myself
to be an excellent mechwarrior, but even I would find it difficult to keep my skills honed if I were forced
to spend all my time with freebirths.”
“I am not forced, Star Captain Herb.” said Mousse. “The mechwarriors of the Jusenkyo Team
are my fri. . . companions. I respect them.”
“You cannot respect freebirths, Star Commander Mousse.” Herb replied. “No matter how well
they pilot a battlemech.”
“That is untrue.” said Mousse, annoyed.
Herb leaned back in the chair. His face flushed from the sake. “I can see this line of
conversation bores you, Star Commander Mousse. So I . . .”
“Why do you continue to refer to me as ‘Star Commander Mouse’, Star Captain Herb?” Mousse
asked.
“I refer to you as a star commander, because you are a star commander. Quiaff?” Herb replied.
“Neg.” said Mousse. “I have not used that title in over two years.”
“Nevertheless, it is what you are.” said Herb.
“My time is precious at the moment, Star Captain Herb.” Mousse countered. “I will ask you to
say what you mean. If you will not, then I will ask you to leave.” As he finished, Mousse began to take a
large drink of sake.
“Very well, Star Commander Mousse.” said Herb. “The reason I have come is this; what would
you say if I offered to restore you to the clan?”
In surprise, Mousse choked on the sake and immediately began to cough. After what seemed like
an eternity he managed to gasp out, “W. . . what?!”
“I am offering to restore you to the clan, Star Commander Mousse.”
“W. . . why?”
“I do not need a reason.” Herb said. “Suffice to say, that I wish to aid a fellow clansman.”
“I am no longer a part of the clans.” Mousse said, still coughing somewhat. “I made my choice
two years ago and now I live with that choice.”
Herb shook his head, his face assuming a look of sympathy. “You made a wrong choice, Star
Commander Mousse, that is all.” said Herb. “The clan will forgive if you allow it to.”
“I . . .” Mousse began. This was what he had been hoping for. He had always believed that
being offered a chance to once again be part of the clan would be the best thing that could happen. But,
now that the moment had come, he felt it was the worst thing that could happen. “I . . . I cannot.” he said
at length.
“Think about what I am offering you, Star Commander Mousse.” Herb countered, his tone
growing _very_ serious. “I am willing to sacrifice my own honor to return a fellow clansman to where he
belongs.”
Mousse, overcome by his mixed feeling could not answer right away.
“Think about it.”
“My. . .my. . .” Mousse began. He could feel his heart pounding. <Return with him!> something
told him. <This is what you’ve been waiting for!!!> Mousse shook his head violently. <I made a wrong
choice once.> he thought. <I will not do so again.>
“My place, Star Captain Herb, is with the Jusenkyo mechwarriors.” As he said it, Mousse
suddenly felt all his worries lift from his chest. He had made the right decision.
Hearing this, Herb stared at Mousse intently. “Think carefully, Star Commander Mousse. I
make this offer only once.”
“You know my answer, Star Captain Herb.”
“Mousse!” Herb said, slamming his fist into the table. “You know as well as I do that the
Jusenkyo mechwarriors will not win in the final duel. That trick they used on us will not work again.”
“I realize this, Star Captain Herb.” Mousse nearly spat the title. Herb had not addressed him by
his title, but Mousse would not dishonor himself by following suit.
“Listen to me! Two of my mechwarriors were killed during the last duel and a third is not likely
to survive much longer.” said Herb, his face flushed with anger. “If you join with me now I . . .”
“So that is it!” Mousse countered. “You care nothing for me as a clansman, you simply need
another mechwarrior to add to your bid.”
“I need no such thing!” Herb yelled. “I am simply offering you a chance to return to the. . . how
do the freebirths say it?. . . the ‘winning team.’ That is what I am offering you, Mousse!”
“You offer me my choice of poisons!” Mousse said, he anger now apparent. “If I refuse, I live
out my life as an outcast. If I accept, I live out my life knowing I dishonored those I have come to call
friends!”
“No trueborn can ever call a freebirth ‘friend’, Mousse!” Herb screamed. “That is a fact that can
never be changed!”
“There is no truth in that, Star. . .” he paused. <No! He no longer deserves to be called by that
title!> “Herb.”
In anger, Herb jumped up, toppling his chair. “You will address me by my proper title!”
“I will not.” Mousse countered, also standing.
Both men faced off, oblivious to the fact that all eyes were now on them.
Herb said nothing. Instead he balled his fist and made ready to attack.
Mousse saw Herb prepare to attack, but put up no defense.
“You have already stained both our honor by offering me a bid you that you knew I could not. . .
no, would not!. . . accept!” Mousse said dryly . “Do not bring further dishonor to yourself by fighting
me.”
Herb grinned wickedly and backed away. “Then you have made your choice?”
“I have.”
“Very well.” said Herb. “But, again, you have made the wrong choice.”
Mousse shook his head angrily. “I made the choice I know is correct.” he said. “I shall now live
by that choice. I have no regrets.”
Saying nothing, Herb spun on his heel and walked away. As he came to the door, he turned and
said, “I would have done as I said. I would have tried to restore you to the clan. But now, I know I was
foolish to even consider it. You are lower than any freebirth, and you are now dead to me.”
Mousse said nothing.
“I make this pledge now, Mousse.” Herb spat the name. “In the final duel. You will die. I will
not simply disable your mech this time. No, this time I will destroy it and I will do the same for each of
your freebirth ‘fiends.’ When I am finished, there will be nothing left of you, save a crimson stain on your
command couch.” With that, he turned and strode out.
Mousse stared at the door and called, “We shall see which of us stains our battlemech in blood.”
Looking around, Mousse finally noticed everyone looking at him. Flushing in embarrassment, he tossed a
few C-bills on the table. Turning toward the door, he walked purposefully toward it, ignoring the
confused looks of the other patrons.
Once outside, Mousse walked a short distance and rounded the corner of a small, white brick
building. As the adrenaline rushed out, he slumped heavily against the building. Looking around, he
found himself in an alley. The white build to his back and a smaller, red building in front of him.
Mousse stood for a long moment, gasping for breath. Every fear, every hate and every doubt that
he had ever experience screamed at him. Each emotion fought to be the one that brought him the most
despair.
In anger, he punched forward. His fist slamming solidly into the red building. He felt a burst of
pain, but ignored it as he slumped back against the white building again.
Everything had gone wrong. In his heart he knew he had made the correct decision, but he could
not bring himself to believe it in his mind. For a moment, he found himself wishing Shampoo were with
him, some of her freeborn insight into emotions would have been useful.
Raising his hand to his face, he saw that he had broken open his knuckles when he had punched
the wall. Blood slowly trickled out of the wound, coating the back of his hand.
<This. . . !> He suddenly remembered. He had been like this once before. <This is . . . this is
exactly like. . . like. . . Togenkyo Rift! The confusion, the regret, the. . .the fear. Everything.>
The more he thought about it, the more he felt himself being drawn into the memory that he
thought had been buried long ago. As he thought, the world around him seemed to fade and, once again,
he could see the battlefield that had changed his life.
<Togenkyo. . . that was where I . . . where, my life changed . . . forever.>he thought.
Unwillingly, he slowly slipped back into his memories.
It had been a hard fought campaign. Battles had been fought every few minutes and casualties
had been mounting for days. The battles had left everyone on edge, but it had left him on edge moreso
than most. It was the first battle where someone he knew had died.
He could still remember the time he had refused an order to terminate a small village. But the
refusal had been just. The village had had no mechs, nor soldiers of any kind. His anger and confusion
had simply caused his commander to believe him to be a weak, unworthy mechwarrior.
In the end, he had complied with the order and had marched on the village. He couldn’t believe
that he had simply given in, but he had. Still, he was unable to bring himself to destroy the village. Their
was no honor in destroying something that had no hope of fighting back. It was in that moment, that he
had made his decision.
The maneuver had been quick. Too quick for his star to follow, or to stop. With cool,
emotionless precision, he had rotated his mech’s torso and fired. The voices of his starmates still rang in
his ears. Even now, he couldn’t help but marvel at the ease at which he had destroyed them. It was then
that he had heard commander order another star be dispatched to destroy him. Instead of running, he had
remained to face them.
<I should have been dead.> Mousse thought. <But, someone. . . saved me. Who was it?>
He remembered his Hellbringer falling, but he also remembered a Summoner coming to his aide.
The Summoner had defended him for what seemed like hours until, it too, fell to the earth. All the time,
he had tried to open a channel with the Summoner, but had failed in every attempt. Still, he was sure he
had known the pilot.
Suddenly, his train of thought ended and the world snapped back into focus .<No, it. . . couldn’t
have been! Could it?> he asked himself.
The Summoner had been a new addition to his trinary and it was the only mech of its kind they
possessed. He had never thought about it before, but now he remembered. The Summoner pilot. . . had
been a freeborn.
<Shampoo.> he thought. <It had to be. But why? Why did she save me?>
Mousse suddenly realized that, for the past two years, he had been a lancemate with the same
person who had saved his life at Togenkyo Rift. In that time, he had not once thought that it could have
been Shampoo in the Summoner.
<Why?> he asked himself again. Of course, he had no answer to the question. He knew that
Shampoo had been at Togenkyo Rift at the same time he was there. She had never spoken of the battle,
and he had never thought to ask her about it. Now, however, he needed to know.
Ignoring his bleeding knuckles, Mousse purposefully left the alley and began to walk back to his
base. Back. . . to his home.
* * *
Kasumi slowly opened the door to Akane’s room. To her surprise, she found Ranma sitting an a
stool beside the bed, his head cradled on one arm. His other hand held Akane’s hand lovingly.
<I knew it.> Kasumi thought, smiling. <He really does care about her.>
Quietly, Kasumi walked to Ranma side and gently shook him. “Wake up.” she said.
Ranma made no response and Kasumi shook him harder. “Ranma, wake up!” she repeated.
“Huh. . . wha?. . . Kasumi?” he finally managed, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I work here, of course.” she said calmly.
“Here?” Ranma asked dumbly. “Oh! That’s right, I’m at the hospital.” As he finally wiped the
sleep out of his eyes, he looked past Akane’s bed to the window. Outside the sun was setting and he
realized he had slept most of the day.
Kasumi smiled sweetly and proceeded to check Akane’s vitals, the IV solution and a number of
other readings Ranma didn’t recognize.
“How’s she doing?” he asked sheepishly.
Kasumi shook her head slightly. “She’s still the same, Ranma.”
Ranma nodded. Turning his head slightly, he looked into Akane’s peaceful face. He didn’t even
try to hide the fear in his eyes.
“You’re really worried, aren’t you?” Kasumi asked.
“Yeah.” Ranma answered. “Because of me she might die here!”
Pulling up another stool, Kasumi sat beside Ranma and patted his shoulder. “I know how you
feel, Ranma.” she said. “I know what you did, but you can’t go on blaming yourself, what’s done is
done.”
Ranma laughed slightly. “Nabiki told you, huh?” he asked.
“Yes.” Kasumi responded.
“Kasumi.” he said. “I know I can’t change the past, but its still my fault.”
“That’s true, Ranma.” she countered. “But you’re here now, you’re here with her. That itself is
forgiveness.”
“Huh?”
Kasumi shook her head. “You’ll understand someday.” she said.
A moment later, she stood and began to leave. “Oh my!” she said.
“What!? What’s wrong!?”
“I forgot to tell you.” she said. “Kuno was injured more severely than we thought, he won’t be in
last battle either.”
Ranma stood numb. Losing one mechwarrior was bad, losing two was even worse. Looking at
Akane, he wondered what she would do if roles were reversed. <What to do?> he asked himself.
Kasumi continued to walk out, but stopped as Ranma grabbed her arm. “Wait.” he said.
“Wha. . . ?” she began.
Ranma stood and walked past her. “Take good care of Akane and Kuno.” he said.
“I will.” Kasumi countered. “Where are you going.”
Ranma turned and looked at her. “I”ve gotta talk to Yuta.” he said.
* * *
Shampoo walked silently toward her room. She had felt good that she had gone to see Akane,
but now she just felt like a fifth wheel. Everyone at the base was working on something, but they either
didn’t need her help, or her knowledge of something wasn’t enough to let her help.
In a fit of boredom, she had spent most of the day in the simulator. Of course, it had done little
to relieve the feeling, because she had already beaten all the scenarios at least twice.
It was times like this she thought about the clan, about how there was always something to do. In
the clan, the word boredom probably didn’t’ even exist. The thought made her sigh.
Suddenly, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Her clan instincts took over and she
spun around to face the movement. Nothing was there.
<Who was that?> she thought.
Curiosity sparked, she walked in the direction she had seen whoever move to. As she walked,
she realized she was heading to one of the external catwalks around the base. Finally, she found herself
on the platform beneath the communications array. To her surprise, Mousse was standing at the far end,
stargazing.
“Mousse?” she asked.
Turning his head slightly, Mousse saw her and said, “Good Evening, Mechwarrior Shampoo.”
“Good Evening, Mousse.” she said, moving to stand next to him. “What you doing here?”
“I am merle thinking.” came the response.
“Thinking what?”
Mousse seemed to contemplate the question for a moment before turning to face Shampoo.
“Something that happened today.” he answered, somewhat coldly.
Shampoo decided not to pursue her questions and instead turned her attention to the sky. The
sun had just set and the stars were beginning to appear. Without the heat of the sun, the air was
beginning to cool rapidly. Shampoo shivered involuntarily.
Mousse turned to look at her and noticed that she was just wearing her cooling vest and shorts.
“Are you not cold, Mechwarrior Shampoo?” he asked.
Shampoo shook her head quickly, but she kept shivering.
Mousse looked at her, concern in his eyes. <Why not?> he thought as he slowly put his arm
around her shoulders and pulled her close.
<What in the . . .?> Shampoo thought as she felt Mousse pull her close. She began to protest, but
stopped as she felt her shivers begin to die down.
“Herb spoke to me today.” he said, his voice nervous.
Shampoo looked up at him and asked, “Why?”
“He offered to restore me to the clans if I joined his team.”
Shampoo nearly pulled away at the statement, but instead asked, “Is not what Mousse wanted?
Why Mousse not go?”
Mousse shook his head. “I could not go.” he said. “I made my choice once and I am glad of that
decision. For I now have friends.”
Shampoo snuggled closer. “Shampoo glad.” she said.
“Shampoo, may I ask you something?”
Shampoo was about to respond, but stopped short as she realized he’d simply called her
“Shampoo.” <Why didn’t he call me “Mechwarrior Shampoo?”> she asked herself.
“Mousse can always ask question.” she replied at length.
Removing his arm from her shoulders, he turned around to look directly into her eyes. “Do you
promise to tell me the truth?” he asked.
“Shampoo always tell truth, if she know it.”
“Two years ago, at Togenkyo Rift,” Mousse began. “Was it you in the Summoner that saved
me?”
Shampoo looked away, not answering.
“You promised.” Mousse said.
“Yes.” she said at length.
“Why, Shampoo?” Mousse asked. “Why did you save me?”
“Because you was in trouble.” she answered.
“But I killed five of my clansman without warning or reason.” he countered. “Freeborn or not, if
you had killed me, it would have brought you great honor.”
Shampoo looked away again, then turned back to face Mousse. “Shampoo say once before.” she
said. “Shampoo love Mousse, even if Mousse no love Shampoo. That why I save you.”
Mousse turned away and leaned against the railing of the platform, contemplating what he had
just heard. <She really does love me.> he thought.
“Shampoo sorry if Mousse angry, but truth is truth.” said Shampoo.
Mousse turned to her and smiled. “I am sorry for the way I have treated you, Shampoo.” he said.
Shampoo didn’t answer. Instead, she too smiled. Leaning forward, she tried to kiss him again,
to her surprise, he did not push her away.
Mousse leaned toward Shampoo, intent on kissing her. <She is a freeborn!> commanded his
mind. <She is inferior to you! You cannot do this!> Mousse paused for a moment, then continued. <I
have left the clan forever now.> he thought. <The teachings no longer matter.>
With that, he kissed her. Surprised and unsure of what to do , Shampoo kissed back
passionately.
A moment later, he broke the kiss and backed away. A expression bordering on happiness and
confusion on covered his face. “I. . . I am sorry, Shampoo.” he said. “But I . . . I cannot do this. . . not
yet.”
Shampoo looked disappointed for a moment, then smiled. “Shampoo always wait.” she said.
Mousse smiled and began to walk away.
“Mousse?”
“Yes?”
“Maybe . . . someday?” Shampoo asked.
Mousse nodded. “Yes, Shampoo.” he said. “Someday.”
* * *
Ranma walked into Yuta’s office without knocking, causing Yuta to look up in surprise.
“What’s wrong, Ranma?” he asked.
“Did you hear about Kuno?”
Yuta nodded. “Yeah, I heard.” he said.
“That’ll put us six to five.” said Ranma.
“Almost even odds considering who we’re fighting.” Yuta replied. “But I know you didn’t come
here just to tell me what I already know.”
“Right.” said Ranma. Reaching into his pocket, Ranma removed the kill medal and placed it on
the desk. “You can have this back know.” he said.
“But you earned it.”
“Not yet I haven’t.” said Ranma with a smirk. “Teammates don’t count. We’ll see who gets it
after tomorrow’s match.”
“You mean you’ve decided to stay?”
“No.” Ranma replied.
Yuta locked onto him with a cold stare. “I don’t quite follow you.” he said.
“I’ve decided to fight.” countered Ranma. “Not for me, for the team. . . and for Akane.”
*********************************************End Chapter 3
Well here it is the Alpha of Mechwarrior Team Jusenkyo Chapter 3. Hope you enjoyed it.
It took me a long, _long_ time to write this one because I wanted to show how some of the characters felt
because of what happened in chapter 2. This is not an easy thing to do because if you don’t plan the
dialogue well, you end up making yourself look stupid and you deviate from an otherwise pretty good
story. For everyone who has commented on this story to date I would like to say “Thank you.” It’s your
comments and criticisms that let me continue writing this long. I hope I didn’t let you down.
To all BT fans: If I offended you because of how Mousse and Shampoo became a part of the Jusenkyo
team, please forgive me. However I doubt I will be changing it in the revised copy, sorry.
The next chapter will be the final one in this series and will finish off the duel with the clans, as well as
several other things. I’m not giving away any details at the moment, but I hope you like it.
The Ranma 1/2 characters as well as the characters Yuta and Mana are the property of Rumiko Takahashi
and the company who publishes them. Battletech and all related equipment, planets, etc. are the property
of the FASA corporation.
As per usual, all C&C will be gratefully accepted, but please limit it to story content and how it sounds,
not on grammar. All flames will be read over, thought about, laughed at and promptly discarded.
Thanks for reading.