Okay, here's part two of my fic devoted to painful memories, dreams,
hiding behind masks and Martial Artist/Wu-Jen/Assasign/Ducks. See Gary?
I'm working on finishing them! Anyone who needs the first bit to this,
please let me know, I need SOME sort of ego boost... sigh...

	C&C would be appreciated... and lorded over the rest of the FFML as my
right of conquest ;)
	


OtakuNXS presents...

		Memories Mask II

	The Dream Circus

;_;   ^_^   ;_;   ^_^   ;_;

	The acrobats tumbled and the lions roared, yet neither made any sound
as they leaped about the stage.  Paper dragons danced around to
noiseless drums and men painted up as monkeys gave out small trinkets
while they patted children on the head. Yet, the children laughter was
also strangely absent in the void. There were colors, there were lights,
but there was no sound.

	Mousse wore a brightly colored, grinning festival mask. He felt only
disappointment at the strange lack of sound. They had been some of his
clearest memories of these happy times and removing them caused his good
nature to falter. Still, the circus was the best of his memories and he
refused to let them pass without enjoying them to the fullest. He added
his silent laughter to the din of nothingness and danced about with the
dragons. 

	Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a robbed magician. The figure
wore a mask painted with mysterious features, his long black hair
spilling over his white robes. The wu jen gestured for Mousse to come
closer, long fingers working in slow, elegant motions. As Mousse
approached, the wizard bowed with a flourish and then gestured to a
small stage. The stage held what looked to be an incredibly beautiful
woman, her festival mask being that of a mysterious feline. 

	Mousse smiled and stepped forward, he knew this dream, knew it like a
prayer. With a grand and expressive dance, the wizard called forth all
that was magical in the universe and begged it to do his bidding.  The
woman disappeared in a soundless explosion of pink smoke. Where the
woman had been but a moment before, there was now a sleek jungle cat. It
was as beautiful, in it's own way, as the woman had been. Powerful and
regal with a strange intelligence gleaming in it's green eyes. 

	Turning back to Mousse, the magician, whose mask now featured a
slightly patronizing grin, gestured toward the creature as though
offering it to him. The young man walked forward to the magnificent
beast and held out his opened hand. It looked at his empty palm and
furrowed its brow, as though puzzled, and hunkered down.

	Though Mousse was a bit unsure of how to proceed, the draw of its
sparkling eyes forced him forward. A strong hand grabbed the back of his
robe and halted his advance. Turning, he saw the wu jen shake his head,
his mask displaying what looked to be a patronizing face. Behind him,
the denizens of the circus all laughed silently. The wizard placed a
blade in Mousse's hand and then gestured toward the cat with his head
bowed. 

	The weapon felt almost too real to be a dream dagger. Its colors were
too dull and it's weight too heavy. A faint haze, like heat waves,
seemed to radiate from it. Even more startling, it had made a slapping
sound upon impact with his hand. Everything about it attested that it
was alien to this environment, everything except the uncomfortable
familiarity he had with it. And why, asked a wordless voice deep in his
mind, was it not bloody? 

	Mousse turned to see that the beast had perked up at the sight of the
knife and was now watching him with glittering, almost possessive eyes.
He fumbled with the weapon and looked back at the crowd. They were
smiling at him and the magician bowed his head again. When the martial
artist turned around, the jungle cat was right beside him, it's breath
heating up Mousses body, its eyes boring into his soul. Slowly, the cat
moved forward, the blade parting it's fur and scrapping roughly against
the skin.

	With a voiceless cry, he dropped the knife. It fell with all the
passiveness of unavoidable fate, seemingly unhurried. The choice had
been made and there was no need to rush. The wizard, now wearing a tear
covered mask, shook his head sadly. When the weapon finally made it's
way to the ground, the sound of its metallic impact deafened Mousse.
Hands to his ears, he fell to his knees. 

	The circus and everything in it shattered into millions of shards by
the shock wave of the sound. The animal was the least affected, the
cracks in its surface forming agonizingly slow. Already laced with a
fine web of cracks, the cat was now a young woman again, though now her
mask was almost completely without markings. It was featureless, with
the exception of a single tear. Mousse had just enough time to reach out
to her as the fragments scattered about the now empty landscape.  

;_;   ^_^   ;_;   ^_^   ;_;

	A low moan escaped Mousse's lips as he slowly regained consciousness.
Whipping sweat from his forehead, the young man fumbled for his glasses
and stretched. Trying to shake the fuzziness from his head, he began his
early morning kata's. 

	The Nekouhaten did a brsik buisness that day. Male customers brought in
their hard earned yen for a bowl of ramen and a glimpse of Amazon
bounce. Mousse went through the day with little trouble. The nights pain
was forgotten by the light of the sun. Still, Shampoo was troubled, he
had made no glomping attempts, no stupid public announcements of his
undying devotion and every insult was met with meek servitude.

	Where Mousse's work blosomed by his new found attentiveness to the job
at hand, Shampoo's faltered. Amazons hated change, they had remained
true to tradition for a couple of mellieum and were, by their very
nature, creatures of habit. Cologne was no help to her either, she'd
just say, "Yes, very omnious." and then muse quietly to herself while
noding at something Shampoo couldn't hear.

	Finally, after Shampoo thought she'd explode if Mousse didn't at least
walk into a wall while staring longingly, and in the wrong direction, at
her; Ranma showed up. "Ummmmm, hi, I just came by to see if..." His
query was cut short as he was smothered in soft, bouncy curves and sweet
smelling lavendar hair.

	"Ai lien!" Shampoo shouted, her arms encircling Ranma's body in a death
grip.

	"Ack!" Ranma's senses went into overload, Shampoo rarely held him so
close, or with all of her Amazonian strength. While a part of his brain
was busy fighting his incredible arousal, another more sensible part
just spent it's time worrying about breathing. "I-I can't breathe
Shampoo, you-your killing me." he wheezing.	    

	Mousse walked out of the back with a towel draped over his shoulder.
Without giving the couple a second glance, he began busily wiping an
abandoned table. Shampoo watched him closely and then sighed heavily,
releasing the Ranma who fell to the ground, gasping for air. The young
woman humphed at the busboy and stormed into the kitchen.

	"Wha-what was tha-that all about?" Ranma asked, taking in huge gulps of
air. He slowly got to his feet and approached Mousse. "Errrrr, yo,
Mousse. How you feelin'?"

	Sighing and pushing his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose,
Mousse turned to look at Ranma. "Why do you care?"

	"Aw man, don't be like that. I was with you yesterday, and you freaked.
You were askin' me about killin' and stuff. What was I supposed to
think?"

	"Look Ranma, I just had a bad dream, okay? Everythings fine now."

	"Maybe it had somethin' to do with that stunt you pulled, you know,
catching your own knife? Where'd you pick up a trick like that?"

	"Ranma, I have a rule about showing dangerous techniques to other
people, especially someone I might end up using them against." Mousse
sighed as he went back to his cleaning.

	Ranma walked up behind him and continued undaunted. "Look Mousse, I've
never seen you do nuthin' like that before. Then right afterwards, you
go nuts, there's got to be a connection."

	Mousse slammed his hands on the table. "Damn it Ranma, do you think you
know me? You think you know what's screwing with my head? You think you
know what kind of a person I am? Let me tell you something mister high
and mighty martial artist, you know nothing! I wear so many damned
masks, I don't know who I am anymore."

	"Masks?" 

	"It's a metaphor, nothing you'd know anything about." Mousse tossed the
towel over his shoulder and stormed toward the kitchen.

	"Now wait just a sec' here. I only came here cause I was worried about
ya'. God, I'm stupid, thinkin' you might need some help and might want
someone to talk to. I guess next time I'll know not to bother!" Ranma
shouted to Mousse's back. 

	Turning to leave, Mousse's voice stoped him. "Ranma? Thanks for trying,
but there's just not anything you can do. I'm just going through a
couple of bumps alright?"

	"Alright, just remember your welcome at the Tendo's, just leave all
those knives and things, okay? I don't mind but it's not my house, you
understand?"

	"Sure thing, oh and Ranma?"

	"Yeah?"

	"If I ever see you with your hands on Shampoo like that again, I'm
going to tear your heat out and gift wrap it for Ryouga."

	"Sure thing." Ranma grinned, things seemed like they were going to okay
afterall.  

;_;   ^_^   ;_;   ^_^   ;_;

	Mousse rolled slowly in the darkness, his body quivering with his
silent crying. Why couldn't he do it? There was no excuse for his
weakness. A coward running from others to protect himself from pain.
Except he was running to pain to protect others from himself. His eyes
darted to the damning weapon. 

	It wasn't a throwing blade. There was no balance to it and its edges
were not blunted, but sharp and hard. This wasn't a magician or
showman's tool. It was not something thrown at impossible targets at
impossible speeds, delighting children and scaring off rivals. It was a
weapon; one designed for nothing more then to tear someone's life from
their chest. He had given up that kind of toy long ago, had chosen a
different path then he had been offered. Why then did it feel so
comfortable in his hands? And why was it clean, asked the voice again,
its desperation for an answer becoming evident. 

	Once again, the perfect silence was broken. A faint sobbing permeated
the air and drew Mousse out of the ball he had curled himself in.
Listening, he got a bearing on the sound and got up to investigate. The
knife laid in the darkness, forgotten, as the martial artist went
searching for the source of the weeping. Before long, he came across a
small boy. 

	The weeping boy didn't notice Mousse's arrival. He wore simple white
robes, draped in long black tendrils of hair, and round glasses pushed
up on his forehead revealed deep, probing, yet tear filled eyes. Eyes
that were fixed open in a wet stare at an object on the ground. 

	Finding he could bear the child's pain no longer, Mousse tried to cheer
him up. First he danced about the boy, his masks changing from
frightening to humorous in a strange panorama. When that didn't work, he
tried simple magic, pulling assorted coins from the boy's ears in a
seemingly never-ending flood. Finally, five multicolored spheres
appeared in his hands and began to dance about in spinning circles.
Still, it was as if the he didn't exist, the boy never even looked up.
Letting the balls disappear in the darkness, the martial artist looked
down, and spotted the source of the child's misery. 

	It was another mask. Not fancy, like the ones he had seen before, just
a plain white mask with feminine features. The smile drew Mousse more
then anything; it was neither patronizing nor mocking, but a genuine
one, filled with hope and joy. Looking at the boy, he took the mask,
gave the child a quick wink, and put it on. The child's transformation
was as startling as it was immediate. The boy's eyes brightened and his
tears stopped, choked back into stumbling laughter. 

	Letting the boy's wonder and happiness flow into himself, Mousse danced
around, his arms outstretched. Spinning to a crouching position to the
child, he silently asked him to join his dance. The little boy clapped
his acceptance and together they spun about the dreamscape. As they
turned and pivoted, hand in hand, the world seemed to reform around
them. What had been only darkness was now replaced by another circus.
This one was filled with sounds and smells as well as sights. They
slowed their dance to take everything, the young boy leading the way.
There was something so familiar about all this, thought Mousse,
something... safe.

	The magician appeared before them in an explosion of purple smoke. With
a bow to Mousse, he crouched down to the young boy's level, his mask
changing to a conspiratal wink; he pointed the boy to a small stage.
Smiling and squeezing the young boy's hand to reassure him, the masked
martial artist pointed to the stage as well. Another flash and another
swirl of multi-colored smoke revealed the beautiful young woman,
complete with feline mask. The circus people crowded around them now,
all with happy, smiling faces. The child turned from the crowd and
buried his head in Mousse's robes. The wizard laughed good-naturedly and
shrugged his shoulders. 

	Mousse knelt down and pulled the boy form his robes. Squeezing the
child's hand one final time to remind him that he was with him always,
he gently pushed the kid to the waiting throng. The boy gave him one
final look before disappearing in the sea of acrobats and performers. A
slight pang of regret hit him as he saw the child go.  Somehow, it just
didn't seem right for others to be so close to him while he was not. The
feeling did not go away until the boy appeared on the stage, followed by
the magician.

	Mousse sighed, relieved. All was as it should be, and there was nothing
to worry about. As long as her... his child was safe, everything was
okay. Then the wizard made a few gestures and a miracle occurred. Her...
His boy nearly ran when confronted by the great jungle beast. But once
the wu-jen had pried him from his legs, the boy's curiosity outweighed
his fears and he turned to study the animal. The giant feline seemed to
like him as well and rubbed against him, purring softly. 

	Another pang of emotion hit Mousse, this one of jealousy. Jealous that
her child seemed to enjoy the animal's company as much as her... HIS
own. The rest of the crowd, however, cheered for the small animal tamer.
The wizard immediately silenced them. His gaze on the boy and cat seemed
to say that there was a game that had yet to be played, a ritual that
had yet to be observed. Clapping his hands, he summoned two
monkey-masked assistants, carrying a large chest between them. Opening
the chest, the wizard got out two items. 

	The first was a long strip of satiny black material. His mask smiling
confidently to the boy, he tied the blindfold over the child's eyes.
Then he showed the final item to the crowd, who all murmured excitedly.
Mousse's blood turned to ice in his veins. The magician handed the blade
to the boy who fumbled under its unfamiliar feel and weight. 

	Mousse barreled his way through the crowd, leaping over anything he
couldn't run over. Confused, the boy walked about around the stage, the
weapon pointed in front of him. The jungle cat waited expectantly and
the wizard simply watched passively. Then, the young martial artist was
on top of them. 

	The magician moved as if to intercept but Mousse was the faster,
hundreds of chains and weighted ropes leaped out of his outstretched
hands, entangling the wizard and sending him over the side of the
stage.  Then he was reaching out to the boy, reaching out to her child.
Her hands wrapped around the boy's hands just as the he fell forward. 

	Mousse never even felt the blade as it slipped noiselessly into his
stomach. The boy slowly, fearfully pulled off his blindfold and stared
into her eyes, his mouth slowly begging the question... why? 

;_;   ^_^   ;_;   ^_^   ;_;

	Cologne listened to Mousse's screams as he awoke, shaking her head
woefully. If that scream was any indication, there was worse to come. If
only she had been there eight years ago, maybe she could of... no, she
chided herself, that situation had been beyond her control. Besides, no
matter what she did, something was bound to resurface. Whatever it was,
it was past time the boy confronted it. As she slowly climbed the stairs
to her own bedroom, she contiued muttering to herself, not noticing the
pink cat looking worridly at Mousse's door.

	Elsewhere, a young women sat atop an blossoming cherry tree, her mind
flooded with old memories. Absently, she reached into a pouch and
touched a carefully flattened flower. "Do you remember me Mu Tsu? Do you
remember Lo-shun?"

The End Part II Dream Circus