The dragon's left eye exploded.
	Brook couldn't see this, of course, but she heard the blast from 
the shotgun, and she heard the dragon's tortured scream.  Mousse's parasol 
slipped through her shocked fingers.  *Father, what have you done?*
	Transformed, Mousse could not answer.  Instead he quacked in impotent 
fury as the shotgun fell to the rain-soaked thatch, then slid off the 
roof completely.  Brook made no move to retrieve the discarded weapon; her 
attention was focused on the huge jade coils writhing blurrily before her.
	The dragon was crying now, wordlessly howling in ignoble agony.  
The villagers were drawn by the sound, and the warriors, both wounded and 
hale, raised their weapons for one final charge.  Their resolve was never 
tested, though, for with one last convulsion, the dragon hurled itself 
into the air and vanished among the clouds.

* * * * *

	Torches and lanterns were lit, chasing away much of the nighttime 
gloom, yet also revealing the full extent of the damage.  The villagers 
began sifting through the rubble with the industry of a colony of ants, 
repairing and reclaiming everything that could be salvaged.  The rain 
died down from a furious deluge to a heavy mist, which helped 
considerably, and Tachi, desperate for something useful to do, joined the 
recovery effort.
	The village matriarchs called a council of some sort; Tachi 
contrived to attach herself to a crew working near the circle of ancient 
women.  Brook stood in the center of that circle, with Shampoo, now human 
again, beside her.  Mousse, too, stood in the mush pot, but he stood 
apart.  Now and again Shampoo would steal a quick glance at her lover, 
but Brook never once looked at her father.
	The matriarchs spoke in hushed tones; Tachi frowned, her curiosity 
thwarted.  She slowly worked her way closer to the council, but the 
women's words remained indistinct.  _It's probably some ancient Amazon 
magic to keep councils secret,_ she told herself.  Then she hid in the 
shadows of a ruined hut for a session of lip reading.
	"How many times must I repeat myself," she saw an exasperated 
Brook say.  "I never met the dragon before.  I have no idea where he came 
from, or why he chose me.  If I knew, I'd do something about it."
	"Such attacks were not uncommon in Japan," Shampoo added.  "My... 
Ranma was often the target of an unannounced vendetta or engagement."
	"You would do well not to mention _his_ name, Shampoo," one of 
the matriarchs cautioned.
	"Some of us have a long memory for failures," added another.
	Shampoo spun around to answer them, and Tachi cursed the 
limitations of her current mode of eavesdropping.  You couldn't read 
someone's lips if all you could see was the back of their head.
	"And that leads us to the other matter I wish to discuss," the 
first matriarch declared.  "Explain yourself, Mousse!"  She hurled a 
blanket-wrapped object at the man's feet.  "Explain this outworld weapon."
	*What is there to explain?* Mousse countered; his voice loud and 
strong despite the Amazon's enchantments.  *It is a weapon like any 
other, and without it, my daughter would have been the prisoner of a 
monster.*
	"It is a _weakling's_ weapon," the matriarch snapped.  "Any 
untrained fool could pick it up and kill with it."  She brandished her 
broken spear shaft.  "This is a true weapon.  It pits your skill and 
strength and will against those of your opponent."
	*And look where that left you.  Your entire village combined 
lacked the strength to face the dragon.  My technology tipped the balance 
back in our favor and drove the beast away.*
	"If skill and strength and will fail us, then we must be harder!"  
The matriarch jabbed her broken weapon at Mousse.  "I will not see us 
give up our traditions for the sake of expediency."
	*Then you are a fool.*  Mousse folded his hands into his 
sleeves.  *Even Ranma bows to necessity and wields unorthodox weaponry 
when the situation demands it.*
	Mousse spun around, answering a challenge from a face Tachi 
couldn't see.  *I _will_ mention his name,* he declared.  *Ranma Saotome 
is the greatest living warrior this universe has to offer.  His skill is 
unequaled.  His will is iron.  If you can not accept this, then you're as 
blind as I used to be!  The world does not end at the borders of 
Joketsuzoku, and if you refuse to acknowledge this simple fact and accept 
the changes time brings, then this,* he swept his arms wide, *is the 
future you can expect.*
	"You would have us destroy our soul to save a shell," the 
spear-carrying matriarch accused.
	*I would have us live.*
	"Shampoo, do you share this... _man's_ warped vision?"
	Tachi could not see Shampoo's answer, but she saw Mousse's face 
grow hard.  And when Brook emphatically shook her head, she saw a single 
tear trickle down his cheek.

* * * * *

	Shun busied himself with the children.  The youngest ones didn't 
hold his frail body against him like the rest of the tribe; they just 
wanted to be held until they weren't scared any more.  That he could do.
	He could also change diapers.
	"Why couldn't Mousse have included disposables in his technology 
crusade?" he grumbled.  "Sure, it just means importing tons of stuff into 
a hidden village in the middle of nowhere, but hey, that's just a minor 
matter of logistics."
	*Whad'd you say?* a young boy asked him.
	*Um, nothing important,* Shun answered.  *Have some gum.*  He 
broke a stick in half and offered it to the child, who stared at the gift 
with wide, confused eyes.  *Candy.  Sweet,* Shun explained, popping the 
other half in his mouth.  The boy copied Shun, then smiled at the sugar 
rush.  *You like?  Good.  Go play.*
	"Don't get it in your hair," Shun called as the boy ran after his 
friends.  "I don't think they have any peanut butter here."

* * * * *

	The spear-wielding matriarch planted the butt of her broken 
weapon in the mud.  "You stand condemned by your own words, Mousse," 
Tachi saw her say.
	*Condemned of what?*
	"You set yourself apart from this village."  Tachi could see the 
sneer that colored the old woman's words.  "And so we exile you from 
it."  She slammed her weapon in the mud again.  "Begone, Mousse.  This is 
no longer your place."  She added something under her breath, but Tachi 
couldn't make it out.
	*Make me,* was his reply.
	Tachi didn't need to read lips to see the commotion those two 
words caused.  *I have defied one matriarch already; a council of them 
makes no difference.*  He glanced at Shampoo.  *And I doubt any one of you 
can force me to do anything against my will.*
	"You can not hope to prevail against an entire village," the 
spear-wielder said.
	Mousse raised his right hand.  Knives flashed in the torchlight, 
then vanished back up his sleeve just as quickly.  *There's only one way 
to find out.*  He took half a step forward.  *And I have nothing to lose.*
	Shampoo stepped in front of him, shouting something Tachi 
couldn't see.  That brought Mousse up short, and made the matriarch bow 
her head in thought.  A short, angry discussion took place, and then the 
council broke apart, leaving Mousse, Shampoo, and their daughter alone.
	With the circle dispersed, whatever magic it held was broken as 
well.  *You are a fool, Mousse,* Shampoo accused.  *Why can't you ever 
hold your tongue?*  She threw her hands up.  *If you would just remember 
your place, I could smooth things out.  We both know that with time the 
matriarchs forgive.*
	*My place?*  Mousse pointed at Brook.  *There is my place.  I will 
not be moved from it, not by a dragon, and certainly not by a gaggle of 
hidebound old women.*
	*You know I applaud you dedication,* Shampoo whispered.  *It has 
served me well in the past.  But as in our youth, sometimes You... Go... 
Too... Far.*
	*That is where we disagree,* Mousse replied, his head bowed low.  
*You say I go too far.  I fear I don't go far enough.*
	*Enough!* Brook shouted.  *I don't want to hear this!  I am a 
Joketsuzoku Amazon!  I do not need to listen to the philosophy of a _man._*
	*Brook, he is your father.*
	*No, Mother.*  The girl spun on her heels.  *I do not have a father.*
	Shampoo reached after Brook, but the girl was already gone.  
Turning back to Mousse, she whispered, *She didn't mean...*
	Mousse wrapped his left arm around her shoulders and drew Shampoo 
close.  *No, she didn't mean it.  But convincing her otherwise will not 
be easy.*  Knives danced between the fingers of his right hand.  *Tonight 
the matriarchs have much to answer for.*
 ______
{B-{=__
rmckenzi@euclid.ucsd.edu : The White-Robed Mathematician