Right.
	This one's kinda rough.  I rushed it a little more than I oughta 
have... but I wanted to send it out before hitting the hay.  My 
involvement in the whole SKJAM! thingy'll probably end with Part Two 
(yeah, right...)

	Later!
	-Mike
***
                 SKJAM! Nerima Visits, Part One

     Stripping out of her clothes in the bathroom, Mike couldn't
avoid catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror.  It was still
hard to believe that the girl looking back was him... was _her_. 
Yet it was: the reflection moved when Mike did, the fingers lightly
met on the surface of the mirror as she reached up, strawberry-
blond bangs fell forward over the blue-green eyes of both.  She let
out a deep, exhausted sigh, turning away.
     The shower sprang to life as she twisted the dial with a
savage jerk.  Steam began to rise immediately.  Mike had recently
discovered that she now liked her showers _hot_...  She glanced
back before stepping into the shower; already, the mirror had
fogged up, clouding over the image of her naked figure, leaving
just a face visible - the face of a worried, frightened, and
thoroughly annoyed female university student.  Shaking her head
with mild incredulity, she stepped into the shower.
     Mike sighed again, this time in relief, as the water washed
away the grime, sweat, and femininity from his body.  Try as he
might, he couldn't get used to his cursed form, couldn't accept it,
didn't want to accept it, desperately wanted to be rid of it.  But
how?, he wondered.  
     He turned his face up into the full spray of the nozzle,
scrubbing the skin vigorously.  According to the constant E-Mails,
a counter-attack _was_ being prepared, hell, had even been
implemented by a hasty few.  It turned out that the Fred rumour had
been true, after all.  And yet... that wasn't Mike's style.  He
couldn't bring himself to train for forty years, even if he
wouldn't age a day; he couldn't even bring himself to wait for two
years, before launching the counter attack... he wanted to be cured
NOW, dammit!  And, he admitted to himself, he was a little scared. 
What if the plan didn't work?  What if Ranma returned to further
punish him?  Mike could end up being female permanently!  Like poor
Wing!  And yet... and yet he didn't have any other hopes for
getting cured!
     Mike felt an all too familiar despair begin to fall over him
and he slumped against the shower wall.  A shiver ran through him. 
What if he was _never_ cured?  Could he live like this for the rest
of his life?  Emotions welled up in his chest, but he pushed them
down.  He was _not_ going to cry.  They could strip away the
physical components of his masculinity, but he was damned if they
were going to make him cry...
     Taking a deep breath, he pushed the thoughts aside and
returned to his cleaning.  He took a last cursory swipe at his face
- after all, he'd look silly if he didn't get the makeup off. 
Makeup.  Something he'd never worried about before.  Or would
again, if he had his way.  It was just that, when his friends had
decided to use his face as an easel, he just hadn't been able to
refuse.  He might be one himself half the time, but he still found
it hard to say no to a girl...
     Squirting some shampoo into his hand, he started scrubbing and
lathering up his hair.  It had grown out considerably over the last
few weeks.  As a guy, it almost reached the nape of his neck; as a
girl, it stretched down to between his shoulder blades.  At least
he never had to wash it as a girl - he hated waiting for long hair
to dry.
     He rinsed out his hair and started to soap down his body. 
Rubbing down his legs, he briefly wondered that, if he were to
shave them as a _girl_, if the hair would fall of as a guy.  Not
that he'd ever find out, of course... guys didn't shave their
legs... or their armpits.  And no matter what the anime world tried
to do to him, he was a guy!
     The water washed away the soap suds.  For a few minutes, he
just stood in the steady stream of hot water.  Here, he was safe. 
In the shower, under the hot water, he could be certain of
remaining male.  Out there... out there, his manhood was an option,
not a certainty.
     Finally, though, Mike reached over, turned off the shower, and
stepped out.  A white haze hung over everything.  Reaching down, he
scooped up his damp clothing.  Girl clothing.  Shaking his head, he
left the bathroom, flicking on the fan as he left.  It whirled into
life with a dull hum behind him.

     Mike awoke from her exhausted slumber with a start.  What had
woke her?  A blurry glance at the clock confirmed that it was _far_
too early to be awake.
     "Oh, I'm sorry... did I wake you?" asked a voice with a slight
mocking edge to it.  The lamp on the computer desk clicked on.  The
sudden light revealed Ranma, leaning against the wall, smirking
slightly.
     "Get the hell out of my room, you bastard..." muttered Mike,
rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.  Noticing Ranma's eyes widen
slightly, Mike blushed, pulling the sheets up around her chest. 
"Quite staring, you pervert!"
     "Who're you calling a pervert..." he retorted, than smiled. 
"Hey!  Havn't said _that_ in a while... I've been too busy!"
     "Yeah, I noticed.  You got Stormwalker's fiancee.  WebDragon's
best friend.  And now Kun-chan is Kun-kun!  Was that really
necessary?"
     "Hey!  Caroline aughta consider herself lucky!  We were
thinking of kidnapping Trish Ledoux, dumping her, then splashin'
Kun-chan with water from the Spring of Drowned Viz Translator." 
Ranma sat himself on a chair and turned to face Mike.  "Cologne
decided against it, though.  On the one hand, Caroline might've
committed suicide when faced with the horror of being stuck in a
form that is - to her - too horrible to bear.  On the other hand,
she might've been ecstatic that we actually _drowned_ Trish.  So we
went with the simple solution."
     Mike shuddered, suddenly realising that being splashed with
Nyannichuan was a pleasant fate, at least when compared to what
they could've done to her.  Taking a calming breath, she stared
intently at Ranma.
     "So then... what brings you here?" she asked.
     He smiled.  "I guess you could just say I'm checking up on
you."  Looking her over, his smile widened.  "I gather you prefer
sleeping as a female, now?"
     Mike's face flushed red.  "NO!"  She lowered her voice.  "No,
I don't... my roommate splashed me right before going to bed, the
jerk...  In any case, I have more room this way - my bed ain't all
that big."
     "You sure there aren't... other... reasons you like sleeping
as a girl?"
     Mike's flush deepened a few shades of crimson.  "Hey!  This...
this ain't a lemon, you know!  I don't _write_ lemons!" she
squeaked.
     "Good thing for you..." answered Ranma ominously.  An
uncomfortable silence fell between them... at least, a silence
uncomfortable to Mike.  She squirmed a bit beneath her sheets.
     "So... is that it?" she finally asked.
     "No." Ranma stood up and turned away, turning off the light
but pulling the curtains back a little.  A few lights shone in the
windows of the apartments across the residence courtyard.  Mike
could see his reflection in the glass.  "I came to give you a
little warning.  I know you've been thinking of joining up with the
Anime Liberation Front."
     Mike felt a shiver pass through her.  "Ahhh... what makes you
say that?" she asked, as Ranma let the curtain fall shut.
     "This." he said, holding up the manga of Mike's life.  She
cursed the stupid thing beneath her breath.  "Terribly boring,
really, " continued Ranma.  "Although it _has_ picked up in the
last few weeks.  Even sold a few copies.  People loved the part
where the girls took you out shopping."
     Anger pushed aside her fear.  "Liked it?  It was hell!  I
_hate_ shopping!  And now I know that I hate shopping for women's
clothing even _more_!  It was hell, I tell you, hell!  It took over
an hour to find a pair of stupid shoes!"  She hadn't had a choice,
though... her roommate was getting annoyed at having to constantly
lend her clothes out, and so had called in a few friends.  "Those
girls treated me like some kind of dress-up doll!"
     "Cry me a river, Mike.  At least your mom's still alive." said
Ranma.  Mike shut her mouth, though she continued to glare at him. 
"Good.  So think of this as just a reminder.  There are worse
things than the Nyannichuan.  _Much_ worse.  Remember that."  Ranma
turned away, reaching up with one hand and pressing against the
wall.  Concentric circles of blue light spread across the white
surface as his hand phased through it.
     The pig-tailed boy looked back once.  "Remember.  I'll be
watching you.  Remember the Round Robin story?"
     Mike nodded.
     Ranma held up a tightly stoppered bottle.  "Than you'll know
what this is.  Water from the Spring of Drowned Pregnant Woman. 
Try to join up with your FFML buddies... and you'll have the
personal insight you need for writing that pregnant-Ranma story of
yours."  And with those words, Ranma stepped through the wall and
out of the room.
     Mike watched him go with a hollow feeling in her stomach.  The
blue glow of the wall illuminated the room for a bit before fading
away.  She couldn't believe it.  Not only does he first curse
her... now he was _threatening_ her.  How _dare_ he?
     And yet... what could she do?
     What could she do... but get some sleep?

***

     She woke up with a nagging feeling that something was wrong. 
It wasn't the body... she'd got over _that_ particular problem a
few weeks ago (although, back then, every time she woke up female,
she had to remind herself that it _wasn't_ all a dream).
     The feeling continued to nag at him as he showered.  Something
about last night... something that, in hindsight, seemed wrong. 
What was it?
     It hit him as he stepped out of bathroom, towel wrapped around
his waist.  Ranma... Ranma had been wrong.  He'd been... too calm,
too introspective, too wordy... more like the Ranma from one of
Mike's angst-fics, than from Takahashi's manga.  Mike puzzled it
over as he pulled on a pair of jeans.  So... so this was a...
different... Ranma?  He thought of some of the E-Mails he had read. 
Some of the other writer's _had_ mentioned that they'd been hounded
by their own personal versions of anime characters... could _this_
Ranma be _his_ Ranma?
      He looked through his closet for a decent shirt to find,
pushing aside the new collection of blouses, dresses, and whatnot. 
Seeing them pissed him off.  Buying women's clothing was _not_ how
he had planned on spending his OSAP money!  Grabbing a shirt, he
pulled it on and slammed the door shut.
     So what if this wasn't the real Ranma.  Whomever he was, he
was responsible for cursing him.  And, he realised now, no matter
what the risk, he needed a cure.  He needed his revenge.  He would
not live in fear of retribution for the rest of his life!
     But how?
     The Anime Liberation Front was out.  While well organised down
south, the Canadian branch was still weak, if not non-existent. 
No, he needed to find another way.  He sat down to think.
     The answer came sooner that expected.
     [Wyrm pops by.  Drops off a _single_ Plot-Hole, and a few
portable ones.  Mike thanks him, and Wyrm takes off.]
     Mike stood still for a moment, tightly gripping the Plot-Hole,
an idea brewing in his head.  But he had to move quickly, before
Ranma had time to stop him.  Suddenly galvanized into action, Mike
reached over to his computer and switched it on.  He ran to the
kitchen as it booted up.  Returning seconds later, dripping wet and
female, she sat before her outdated 486, the blue WordPerfect
screen glowing benignly.
     She looked at the Plot-Hole for a moment, fingering it
curiously, than slammed it against her monitor.  A moment later,
gripping a school notebook, she thrust her arm through the screen. 
The surface seemed to expand, or maybe she shrunk, she couldn't
tell.  But with a sudden sucking sound, she felt herself pulled in,
and then...

     ...then I found myself falling.
     It only lasted for a few moments, fortunately, before dumping
me rudely onto a concrete sidewalk.  I quickly scrambled to my
feet, taking in my surroundings.  My face split in a wide smile.
     Nerima.
     Excellent.
     I hadn't planned on ever writing a self-insertion 'fic.  I
_never_ planned on actually participating in one.  But Ranma had
pushed my hand, had left me with no choice.  And Wyrm's convenient
plot hole had given me just the opportunity I needed.
     Thinking of the plot hole reminded me of a few things.  I had
to be careful, since I only had one... and if I lost it, or if it
fell into the wrong hands... well, Wyrm's retribution would
probably make Ranma's look kind in comparison.  I also had to make
sure I didn't push it too hard, lest it collapsed and pulled me
back to my reality before I had time to get my job done. 
Fortunately, the changes I had requested in transit were fairly
small.
     Looking over myself, I realised they had been successfully
completed.  I couldn't cure myself with the plot hole, but I had
been able to turn the curse from 'Spring of Drowned Girl' to
'Spring of Drowned _Young_ Girl'.  A minor change, really, one I'd
seen debated on the ML in the past.  Minor stuff, but it would help
me blend in - I know resembled the school-girls I could see playing
in the nearby school yard.
     Perfect.  And the final change... looking at my notebook, I
was pleased to find it had turned into a handy, self-powered,
lightweight, computerized one.  Complete with word processor. 
Another minor change, but necessary to my plan.
     Only one last thing to do.  Finding a thorny thicket, I
carefully hid the plot hole where no one would stumble across it. 
Satisfied that it was concealed well enough, I stood up, brushing
myself off.  I headed off towards the school, recognising it as
Furinkan, notebook cradled to my chest.
     A grin slowly started to spread across my face.  At last...
now it was _my_ turn.

		*** To be continued ***

	Ugh.  That 1st person perspective was kinda rough.  Sorry.  First 
attempt at using it in a _long_ time.
	The blank where Wyrm lends me the plot hole has yet to be filled 
in.  He agreed to lend me one... he just didn't tell me how he'd drop it off.
	Well, hope to have the conclusion up tommorow.  Then I can get 
back to finishing my other 'fics!  Or doing homework (yeah, right...)

	-Mike