Ruler of the Raging Main
                                    A Ranma 1/2 Story
                                    By J. Austin Wilde
                                    Fission Park Press



J. Austin Wilde, K.B.C.S.
Head Ranger, Fission Park Press.
wildeman@flash.net



     A town on the western shore of the Yellow Sea, the summer 
of 1669 A.D....

     It was mid-afternoon and the waterfront stank. It smelled of 
rotten fish, garbage, raw sewage, and other human detritus all 
ripened by a searing sun and no appreciable wind to blow it all 
away. The locals didn’t notice a thing, having lived with it all their 
lives. The crowds continued to mill and throng about the wharves 
jabbering thier singsong cants of ways, wares, and whores oblivious 
to the cesspool they lived in.
     Ranma Saotome was not a local. He wasn’t even Chinese. 
Given the chance, he would be on the first junk, sampan, or bark 
that would take him across the sea to Japan. He didn’t know 
much about the world, but he knew he hated Shanghai.
     It was all his father’s fault really. Hopefully his old man was 
being served up with rice and bamboo shoots even as he thought 
of him. He knew better, however. Bastards like Genma Saotome 
led charmed lives.
     He didn’t have much money for passage on a ship. He knew 
he could swim the distance, but there was Ucchan to think about. 
His friend and companion was strong and tough, but he honestly 
didn’t think she was up to the challenge.
     Ukyo appeared, carrying a large bowl of rice, a pot of something 
that smelled like curry, and two skewers of meat, probably dog if 
Ranma had his guess. He had eaten worse. She smiled for him 
and he smiled back. 
     “Since this will be our last meal in China, I thought we’d 
splurge,” she said brightly.
     “How much did you spend?” Ranma asked warily.
     Ukyo shrugged. “Not that much. How much can passage to 
Japan cost?”
     Ranma began to get a sinking feeling. “That depends on 
whether you want to be a passenger or one of the crew...”
     Ukyo reddened.
     “I’m sorry...” She said lamely.
     He lowered his head. He couldn’t be mad at her. Not in any 
real sense. She had been his only constant friend for the last ten 
years. They’d grown up together.
     “Don’t be,” he said. “You didn’t know any better.” Inside, 
he felt like screaming. The entire trip to China had been an 
endless string of disasters. Hopefully they had left most of 
them behind in Qinghai Province. Some however weren’t *ever* 
going away. That thought alone got his blood boiling.
     “Oh please Ran-chan, don’t get mad!”
     Ranma took a deep breath. Then another. Then a third.
     “I’m not mad,” he said gruffly. “I said you didn’t know any 
better and I meant it.”
     “You’re mad at me,” Ukyo accused.
     “I’m not mad at *you,*” Ranma replied. “Just this whole damn 
training trip. I hope those Amazons did him in, ‘cause if I ever get 
my hands on him I’ll...” He left his oath at that.
     “Whatever he gets, he deserves,” Ukyo agreed.
     They ate in silence for awhile.
     “I just hope that crazy Amazon girl lost us.” Ranma said, and 
shuddered at the thought of Shampoo’s dogged pursuit of them 
across hundreds of miles of Chinese countryside. It sure as hell 
wasn’t *his* fault that she got clumsy and fell into one of those 
damn springs. Of course she held him responsible for it anyway, 
and added it to the list of reasons why she wanted him dead.
     “If I ever get my hands on her...” Ukyo growled. Shampoo 
had ruined her best spatula during the pursuit.
     “I’d settle for never seeing her again,” Ranma declared. He 
went back to eating the last of their savings.
     “We can earn some money,” Ukyo suggested at length. “I 
mean, how did your father get the money for us to come over 
here in the first place?”
     “Stole it in the night probably,” Ranma replied offhand. “Either 
that or he swindled it out of someone.”
     As they ate, a large ship heaved into the harbor. It was a 
western ship, being much larger, rounder hulled, and with squarer 
sails compared to some of the junks they had seen. Tall men in 
dingy clothes manned the rails. A few cannon, of which Ranma 
had heard of but had never seen in action, sat lashed to the deck.
     “Who are they?” Ukyo asked.
     “I don’t know,” Ranma replied. Westerners all looked the 
same to him, even though he had only ever met one up close. He  
was some kind of priest. A ‘Jesuit’ or something. He was arrested
and executed by the local daimyo’s men when Ranma was only 
eight. All he could remember was that the man had pale skin, 
brown hair, and never bathed.
     “Maybe we could get passage with them?” Ukyo asked. “I 
hear those kinds of ships visit Nagasaki all the time to trade.”
     “I don’t know,” Ranma replied. “There’s something about 
that ship I don’t like.”
     Any further discussion on the subject was halted by the loud 
cry of a young woman several yards behind them.
     “Ranma! You die now!!!”
     Ranma almost sighed with resignation as he heard his assailant’s 
voice. How she had caught up with them so soon he had no idea. 
The girl was relentless!
     “Shampoo...” He growled.
     A large spear landed between himself and Ukyo. Clearly Shampoo 
wanted them to die facing her, else she wouldn’t have missed. He 
turned to see her, sword in hand, glaring hatefully at him.
     “How many times do I gotta tell you--” He began.
     “No talk!” Shampoo screamed at him. She spoke her broken 
Japanese because she was well aware of the fact that Ranma and 
Ukyo didn’t speak Chinese. “You fight!”
     “--that it ain’t my fault?! You want revenge so bad, go find 
my dad!”
     “You one who defeat me in tournament!” Shampoo cried 
angrily. “You one who get me curse for body! I not know what 
father do, but Shampoo know you do this to me! Now Shampoo 
get revenge!”
     “You’ll have to come through me!” Ukyo cried back defiantly. 
She pulled a brace of small spatulas from her bandolier. She wished 
she had her great-spatula to fight this crazy Amazon, but she would 
make do to protect Ranma.
     “Silly spatula girl only get in way, not defeat Shampoo!” The 
purple-haired Amazon girl retorted. Then she charged.
     Ukyo charged at Shampoo. What she planned to do about the 
Amazon’s sword was anybody’s guess. The crowds of merchants, 
beggars, fishermen, and coolies was clearing out of the way fast.
     Ranma didn’t want this, but with Ukyo attacking Shampoo 
he didn’t have much choice except to fight. Shy of killing her, 
which he didn’t want to do, defeating her would only make her 
more angry, more desperate for revenge. It looked pretty hopeless 
for a peaceable solution unless they could incapcitate her long 
enough to get on a ship bound for Japan. Let her try finding him 
then!