Aw, c'mon.  How about a teaser?

Okay, here's a chunk.  Be warned:  contents liable to change without
warning.

I'm still quite a ways away from the end of this story.  I think it's
going to end up being as long as TIL.  I also think it'll wrap up the
whole "TIL" saga, that and the Ukyo story if I ever decide to finish
it.  If I write any other Ranma stories, I'll revert everything to pre-
"Heart of the Home" status.

It'll be hard to write any more Ranma, though, because I've brought
everything to such closure.  I've gone as far as I want to with all of
the characters; there's nothing more to explore.  I'm not much for
"villian o' the week" stories.  And even if I go in some other bizarre
direction - say, Ranma dumps everyone and marries Kasumi instead - I'll
just end up repeating themes I've already covered.  I've been seriously
considering one further side story to TIL - Tales of Genma and Nodoka -
but have refrained for exactly that reason; nothing new would be
uncovered thematically.

I'll have to branch out to other anime, I think.  I've already done a
couple of Nuku Nuku stories, although I think I've already gone as far
as I can with those.  I've considered doing some Tenchi stories but have
refrained, basically because I haven't the foggiest idea what's going on
- some of the plot lines are so darned confusing, no one has been able
to give me a clear explanation.  Besides, I detest Wachuu with a deep
and abiding passion - she's second to only Happosai on my hate list.

Also, there's my original story to work on - but you already knew that. 
:)

Anyhoo, I'm rambling.  You've warned me about that, right?  :)

This story (as yet untitled) takes place 25 years after TIL.  Nouma is
the oldest offspring of Ranma and Akane.  He's 23 and living on his own
now, working as a computer programmer.  I guess that's all you need to
know for now.  This ends abruptly, of course.  That's what teasers are
for, neh?

Remember, you asked for this.  No promises on when this will be finished
- I'm guessing after the first of the year, although it may be sooner.

Thanks for the feedback, btw.  Not a lot of people are responding to
these chapters, which is somewhat depressing.  I've been exchanging some
emails with John Biles in which he says the same thing happens to him,
so that's to be expected, I guess.

Anyway, after the sig, we cut to a scene towards the beginning of the
TIL sequel.  If you have any thoughts or suggestions, let me know.

-Richard

sterman@sprynet.com




Nouma stared thoughtfully at the front gate, and considered the problem
of
getting from it to the front door.

He decided to scout around first.  He jumped to the top of the wall
surrounding
the Tendo home and examined the front yard carefully.  Nothing out of
the 
ordinary could be seen, but that didn't mean anything.

He dropped to the ground inside the yard, bracing for an attack.  It
didn't
come, so he slowly and carefully began stepping towards the front door,
not
getting out of his ready position.  After two steps he changed
direction,
took two steps and changed direction again, moving in a slightly random
pattern
but making his way inexorably to the front door.

To his surprise, he was able to walk to the front door unchallenged.  He
sighed
in relief; maybe the days of those challenges were past.  He opened the
front
door.

Something shot out of it.  It hit him squarely in the chest, and he flew 
backwards.  He landed in the yard, with a teenage girl astride his
chest, her
hands pressing his shoulders to the ground.

She smiled wickedly at him.  "You've gone soft, Older Brother."

Nouma tried to catch his breath while studying Mikanma.  Everyone said
that
her face looked remarkably like her mother's at the same age, except for
the
piercing blue eyes.  Her build was much like her father's; slim and
athletic.
She wore her black hair in the same pigtail her father had worn at her
age,
and had even taken to wearing the same Chinese silk shirts he had
favored,
orange instead of red.

Nouma grabbed her wrists and lifted her hands away from his shoulders. 
She
spun her hands out of his grasp, grabbed his shirt, stood up and flipped
backwards at the same time, heaving him into the air.  Nouma flew
through the
front door to land in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

Nouma slowly stood, trying to recover.  He was widely considered to be
one of
the best martial artists in the world - his father had seen to that -
but what 
no one outside of the Tendo faimly yet knew was that Mikanma had more
skill by 
far.  Her speed and strength were almost frightening, and she was
wonderfully 
creative in her technique, discovering moves that even Father hadn't 
considered.  She hadn't yet beaten Father in the dojo - Father quite
simply 
*was* the best martial artist in the world - but the day was not far off
when 
she would be able to claim the title for herself.  And she was only
seventeen.

Mikanma was leaning against the door, smiling at him.  "Pop is going to
eat you
alive.  I told you that computers don't make good sparring partners."

"Yeah, so you did."  Nouma rotated his wrist, and decided that it wasn't
hurt
too badly.  "You're just lucky that Mom didn't see you do that."

"Didn't see you do what?"  Nouma and Mikanma both flinched at Mother's
voice.
She stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at them with an annoyed
look
on her face.  "Did it have something to do with that crash I heard a
moment 
ago?"

Nouma kept silent, not wanting to lie to Mother and not wanting to get
Mikanma
in trouble.  Unfortunately, Mikanma was quite adept at getting herself
into
trouble without any outside help.  "Nouma and I were just practicing,
Mom.
He let himself be thrown through the front door."

"I see."  Mother's voice sounded skeptical, and no less annoyed.  "And
was
your brother asked before he participated in this 'practice'?"

Mikanma scowled.  "Pop is always saying you have to ready for anything
during
a fight.  I'm just keeping Older Brother on his toes."

"Don't refer to your Father in such a disrespectful way."  Mother was
getting
angry.  "I want you to go and clean the dishes, and think about whether
or
not your brother and your father deserve a little more of your respect."

Mikanma swallowed her retort, then slumped her shoulders.  "Yes,
Mother."  She
stalked down the hall towards the kitchen.

"Honestly, that child inherited all of your father's worst traits." 
Mother
sounded quite exasperated, as she often did when dealing with Mikanma.

Nouma looked up at her.  "She inherited all of the best as well,
Mother."

Mother looked at Nouma from the top of the stairs.  She was a little
heavier
than she had been when Nouma was born, and her face seemed a little
dowdy.  
Her hair was sprinkled with grey, and she looked every bit the forty-one
year 
old woman she was.  It didn't stop her from springing down the stairs
and 
grabbing Nouma in a bear hug.  "It's good to see you, Son.  I was a
little 
worried that you wouldn't come."

Nouma struggled out of her grasp; she still had remarkable strength when
she 
chose to apply it.  "Aunt Nabiki made sure I'd be here."

Mother smiled.  "Good for Older Sister.  I'm glad she keeps her eye on
you as
well as her own children."  Her smile faded, and she looked at Nouma
seriously.
"Everyone else will be here in another hour.  Your father wants to see
you in
the dojo right away."

Nouma closed his eyes and wondered when the family gauntlet would end. 
He drew
a breath and opened them again.  "Yes, Mother."

She seemed to understand and smiled.  "Sometimes I get fed up with it as
well,
Nouma.  I'm glad you chose not to let it dominate your life like your
father
and your sister have."  Once more, she lost her smile, and this time a
worried
expression crossed her face.  "It's different with your father this
time.
Something has him extremely worried, and it's making everyone in this
house
tense.  Go to him; I think he needs your help now more than ever."

Nouma studied Mother closely, aware for the first time that she was very
frightened.  Mother had gone through some harrowing experiences over the
years;
whatever had her this scared must be remarkable, indeed.  He leaned
forward
and gave her a gentle hug; she clutched at him, not as strongly as
before but 
still fiercely enough for Nouma to know that she needed this reassurance
from 
him.

They separated.  Mother smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek before 
going towards the kitchen.  Nouma imagined that Mikanma was in for a bit
of a
lecture right now.

Nouma shook his head to clear it, then made his way to the back yard and
into
the dojo.

Father was in the center of the dojo, sitting cross-legged and
meditating.
Nouma watched him from the edge of the dojo.  The remarkable thing about
Father was that he seemed to have stepped out of time.  He looked to be
in 
his early twenties.  Nouma often had trouble convincing people that
Ranma was
his father; most took him to be his brother.  Father's agelessness
didn't 
bother Nouma that much - he'd grown up with it, and it seemed to be as
normal 
to him as did the fact that his father changed gender frequently.  It 
frightened some people, to the point that Father seldom left the dojo
these 
days unless he was going out on one of his quests.

People had been striving for explanations for years.  The fact that he
was a
martial artist who kept in top physical form seemed to be an obvious
answer.
However, there were several people his age who also kept in top form -
Ryoga,
Tatewaki, Kodachi, and even Mother - and they showed every indication
that they
were aging at the same rate as the rest of the world.

Another theory was genetics.  Although Grandfather Saotome looked every
bit
as old as he was, Grandmother had aged remarkably well.  

Most people accepted a combination of the two theories - physical
conditioning
and good genes - to account for Father's young features.  Nouma had
trouble
accepting it.  No matter how good your genes and your conditioning was,
forty
years of sun, wind, and gravity did things to a human body.  Father
didn't 
have creases around his eyes, and his skin, while not smooth, was still
tight
and completely without wrinkles.  This just wasn't the body of a forty
year 
old man.

It was while he had been sharing these observations with Aunt Kodachi
that she
had provided an alternative explanation.  "If I recall the story your
father
told me, he fell into the Spring of Drowned Girl.  Right?"

Nouma had nodded.  

She had continued in that lecturing tone she used when leading Nouma in
a 
logic exercise.  "Notice, it is not Spring of Drowned Woman.  'Girl'
implies
an age factor.  It would be logical to assume that being young is as
important 
to the curse as being female."

Nouma had thought about that.  "So, okay, why isn't he young only when
he's 
female?  Shouldn't his male side be aging normally?"

Kodachi had pursed her lips thoughtfully.  "Hmmm.  Perhaps it has
something to
do with how your father has internalized and accepted his curse.  It's
so much
a part of him that it affects his male side as well.  Then again, maybe
the
curse is making a certain concession to reality; it's easier for Ranma
to do
what he does if both sides of him can be seen as mature, but still
young."

Nouma had frowned.  "You make the curse sound almost sentient."

Kodachi had laughed.  "We're trying to apply logic to magic, and it
doesn't
always work.  We don't know enough about the underlying assumptions to
make a
truly coherent picture, so we have to postulate things that sound
somewhat
ridiculous.  If you go back to early theories about atoms and molecules, 
you'll see some very intelligent people make guesses that, today, seem
ludicrous.  They were only doing the best they could with the limited
amount
of information available to them.  We're doing the same here."

Nouma was forced to agree with her analysis.  What she said about the
curse
made sense.  It just felt right to him, and he couldn't exactly say
why.  He
still wanted to know more information about it.  One day, he planned to
go to
China and interrogate the Guide about how the magic of Jusenkyo worked.

Father opened his eyes and smiled at Nouma.  Nouma smiled back; it was
always
good to know that both of his parents were always happy to see him. 
Nouma
wasn't so good at returning the favor.  He made a mental note to try and
be
happier when he saw his parents.  He knew they missed him, and he
shouldn't
feel embarrassed by their displays of affection whenever he came to
visit.

Father stood and took a couple of steps back away from the center of the
dojo,
still facing Nouma.  Nouma stifled a sigh and took a position opposite
Father.
They bowed to each other, then assumed the ready position.

Fights with his father never went the same way twice.  Father had so
many moves
and tactics in his repetoire that he was utterly unpredictable.  This
time,
Father lept straight at Nouma, his fist pointed directly at Nouma's
head.

Nouma dropped to his back and attempted to propel his father towards the
wall
with his feet.  Father grabbed Nouma's ankles, and more or less fell on
top
of Nouma, as Nouma was able to brace himself enough to prevent Father
from 
doing anything useful with his hold.

Nouma used his legs to put a scissors hold on Father's stomach, at the
same
time trying to give him an uppercut to the jaw.  Father pulled his head
back,
grabbed Nouma's shirt, and quickly rolled, slamming Nouma to the mat. 
The 
jarring blow caused Nouma to loosen his scissors hold ever so slightly,
but
enough so that Father broke free of it and sprang to his feet.

Despite the fact that his head was still ringing a little bit, Nouma
rolled
away from Father several times before turning the roll into a cartwheel
and
landing on his feet.  Nouma and his father began dancing their way
closer to
each other, circling each other warily around the dojo.

Father spoke as they spiralled in to each other.  "You're doing pretty
good
for someone who gave up the art."

Nouma grimaced, keeping his eyes on Father, still awaiting an attack. 
"I
never said I was giving up the art, Father.  I'm just not devoting my
entire
life to it, is all."

"Yes, so I've heard."  Father feinted an attack, but Nouma didn't allow
himself
to be baited.  "Nabiki says you're doing quite well in your new job. 
She 
likes to tease Akane, asking her who your real father is."

Nouma couldn't help laughing; that did sound like Aunt Nabiki.  She had
a high
opinion of her own intelligence - an opinion that was justified, in
Nouma's
estimate - and had little tolerance for people who didn't measure up to
her
high standards.  Nouma met those standards, just as Father didn't. 
Nouma 
thought that was a little unfair of Nabiki.  Father's intelligence was
obvious
in the way he reacted to the world around him, responding to it quickly
and
creatively.  He wasn't so good at strategy - the rational, analytical
planning
that happened before a battle. However, he had no equal in tactics -
responding
to changing conditions in battle.

Like, for instance, now.  As soon as Nouma began laughing, Father
attacked.
Nouma was slow to defend, and found himself flying across the room, his 
father's foot the last clear image he had before he crashed into the
wall
twenty feet away.

Father wasn't through with him yet; as Nouma pushed himself back to his
feet,
Father was directly in front of him.  His fists began to fly, and Nouma
had 
no choice but to block them.  Father was holding back, Nouma knew. 
Father 
began slowly increasing the speed of his punches, and Nouma strained to
keep
up.

"Your sister was able to surprise you, Nouma.  You were sloppy."

Nouma grimaced again; nothing got by Father when it came to martial
arts.  "I
suppose I was.  I let my guard down before I was actually inside the
house."

Father looked at him curiously.  "I never asked why she decided that you
would
not be allowed into the house without first getting by her."

Nouma smiled, trying not to show how hard he had to work to keep
Father's 
puches from getting through.  "I think it's because she still can't
believe
that I beat you in the dojo.  She can't, and she doesn't understand
why.  She 
keeps trying to find some secret technique in me that she hasn't yet
seen."

Father winced at the mention of Nouma's victory.  "She didn't have
Kodachi
helping her plan the attack."

"Aunt Kodachi's offered to teach her the same things she's taught me."

"Maybe it's just as well Mikanma refused.  That wasn't a very nice
strategy
that you and Kodachi came up with."

Nouma chuckled, and regretted it instantly at one of Father's punches
nearly
connected.  "You yourself have taught me to discover your enemy's
weakness
and use it against them."

Father's attack slowed for a second as he shuddered.  "You might have
carried
it too far.  You know what can happen to me in those circumstances."

"Well, that's tactics.  The strategy was to expose you to your
weakness.  The
tactic was to make sure you didn't get so exposed that you needed Mother
to
bring you out of it."  Nouma smiled.  "You've got to admit, it worked
pretty
well."

"Yeah."  Father grinned at him evilly.  "You beat me once.  Just once."

Nouma lifted an eyebrow.  "You've told me before, once is all it takes."

Father laughed, then increased the speed of his punches.  Nouma stopped 
talking and used all of his concentration to try and keep up.  In the
end, it
was futile.  The only who could keep up with Father's speed was Mikanma,
and
although Nouma would pit his hand speed against against anyone else in
the
world, he was only third-best in his family.  One of Father's punches
got
through, then another, and then Nouma's defense collapsed as a hundred
punches
connected to his midsection.  His breath left him, and he fell to his
knees
as Father stepped back.

Nouma had almost forgotten how painful training sessions in the Tendo
Dojo
could be.  They never went easy on each other during training.  None of
his
father's punches had been pulled, and Father was as strong as he was
fast.
If Nouma hadn't kept himself in top physical condition, he'd need a
stretcher
right now if he'd wanted to leave the dojo.  This was, he realized, his 
father's way of ascertaining the state of Nouma's martial arts.  In a
way,
despite the fact the he felt like someone had used a jackhammer on his
ribcage,
Nouma had won.  He'd passed Father's scrutiny.

Father stood over him and applied a couple of pressure points, something
he'd
learned from Uncle Tofu.  Nouma's breathing eased, and he allowed Father
to
pull him to his feet.

"You're not as bad as I thought you'd be, Son."

Nouma leaned against the wall.  "High praise from you, Father."  He
looked over
to the clock on the wall.  "We still have some time before everyone
arrives.
Do you want to tell me what this is all about?"

Father sighed and leaned against the wall next to Nouma, facing him. 
"We'll
get to that when everyone arrives.  I have other matters to discuss with
you."