This little side story was written by Grayson Towler
<graysont@rigroup.net>, and I liked it so much, I
figured I'd add it to the 'The More Things Change'/
'The Pursuit of Happiness' mythos.

FYI, you can find the above stories at 
www.uh.edu/~rpm/tmtc and
www.uh.edu/~rpm/tpoh

It doesn't have an impact on the rest of the series,
being a self-sufficient story, but it does explain
a few things about the nature of Nerima's
infrastructure.

That, and it's damn amusing.

As far as continuity is concerned, this falls somewhere
after Act 1 part 10 and before act 2.

Send any comments to graysont@rigroup.net, or if
you're lazy send'em to me and I'll pass the word on.

-RodM
www.uh.edu/~rpm/fanfic


                 -----------------------------
                     Nerima's Other Passion

                       By Grayson Towler
                 -----------------------------




Night had fallen in Nerima, and with it came the requisite
dreams, starlight, and Martial Artist antics.  The citizenry
at large tried, as always, to ignore the occasional thump of
feet which was still audible through the reinforced and
heavily soundproofed rooftops favored in the local
architecture.  Children huddled in their beds and tried not
to be afraid when a manic peal of laughter echoed through
the night.  The stalwart members of the Nerima Police Force
(all three of them) hung out in a secluded basement,
drinking beer, playing darts, and pretending they'd never
heard of "assault and battery." 

To the casual observer, it seemed that the night belonged to
the Marital Artists.  It was not a stretch to say that the
day belonged to them as well.  And this was as it should be,
for in Nerima there exists a passion for the Martial Arts
which would have made ancient Sparta seem like a hippie
commune.  The eternal struggles, the hopeless romances, the
devastating techniques, the fights to the (supposedly) death
- these were the day-to-day dramas, comedies, and tragedies
which gave Nerima its life and vitality.  Most action films
did very poorly at the local box offices. 

But, contrary to popular belief, the night was not wholly
the domain of the Marital Artists.  There were others who
moved in the shadows, silent and invisible, always watching,
always ready to act.  Even the Martial Artists, with their
keen senses and awareness of danger, had barely glimpsed
them.  Tonight, they were waiting, as they always did. 
Cloaked in the blackness of night and shadow, they waited
with tense anticipation.  As always, it was one person in
particular who carried their fondest hopes and secret
desires... 

-----
  
Hibiki Ryouga was wandering the night, brooding.  This would
hardly have been a surprise to those who knew him.  Nor
would it have come as a terrible surprise to learn what it
was that he was getting himself into such a lather about. 
As if to alleviate any doubt (not that he thought anybody
was watching him), he threw a punch at a nearby concrete
wall, shattering it like glass, and shouted the name: 

"SAOTOME RANMA!  CURSE YOU!!" 

Oh sure, they had buried the hatchet about a lot of their
past grievances.  Ryouga was cured of the pig, he had let go
of Akane, and the bread feud was long over... but there was
still no person alive who could annoy Ryouga quite so
thoroughly as Ranma. 

It had started when Ranma had been boasting about his
supposedly inevitable success in the upcoming King of Nerima
tournament.  The sound of Ranma stroking his own ego was a
thousand times worse than the sound of fingernails raking
the surface of a chalkboard, as far as Ryouga was concerned. 

"Hey, if it's got Martial Arts in it," Ranma had asserted
smugly, "I can't lose!" 

It had been at this juncture that Ryouga had felt it
necessary to remind Ranma of the Anything Goes Martial Arts
Obstacle Course Race.  Sure, Ryouga's memories of the whole
thing were bittersweet (as were virtually all of his
memories), since he had been unable to take advantage of the
trip to China he had won in the race (couldn't find the
airport).  But that didn't matter, not really.  He had WON
that time.  He had beaten Ranma in a Martial Arts
competition, fair and square.  Ranma seemed to conveniently
forget that. 

"Aw, that wasn't really a fight," Ranma had said
dismissively.  "Besides, you'd have never made it to the
finish line if I hadn't helped ya out along the way, right
P-Chan?" 

He had yelled at Ranma to shut up, still petrified that
Akane would someday figure out the whole P-Chan thing and
exact a terrible revenge.  (As always, Akane had completely
missed the reference, and had simply bashed Ranma on the
head for picking on Ryouga.)  And then the conversation had
moved on.  Ryouga's thoughts, however, had been stuck on the
issue all day, and well into the evening. 

Ranma's ego.  Ranma's damned luck.  Ranma's victories. 

There were times when he had come SO close to beating Ranma
fair and square.  Just a little more luck, just a little
more time... he KNEW he had what it took to beat Ranma. 
Ryouga ran through his memories of so many fights with his
bitter rival.  He was sure that if Akane hadn't interrupted
their fight at the Martial Arts Figure Skating Tournament
("The Charlotte Cup", indeed!), he would have defeated
Saotome.  So many times Ranma had escaped defeat because
Ryouga had inconveniently turned into a pig.  Then there was
the time that Kuno had interrupted, and that other time
that... 

And so on.  But he found, as he searched his memories, that
he kept coming back to one particular day.  He had just
learned the bakusai ten-ketsu technique from Cologne, and he
and Ranma had fought in the countryside.  There had been no
interruptions, no distractions... and he had ALMOST won.  If
only... if only... 

Ryouga growled.  If only Cologne had told him the true
purpose of his training in the breaking point technique,
rather than allowing him to believe that he could actually
use the attack directly on Ranma.  Ranma had survived the
day because Ryouga had been telegraphing his attacks,
attempting to get one good shot in with the bakusai
ten-ketsu and end the fight in a single blow.  Had he known
that such an offensive strategy was worthless, he knew he
would have beaten Ranma with conventional martial arts. 
Ranma's blows had glanced off him like a gentle rainfall
that day.  Gods, he had never felt that strong before... 

Maybe he hadn't beaten Ranma then, but he'd sure as hell
wiped that smug look off his face for a while. 

Clearly, on the day of that fight, Ryouga's endurance had
been at its peak.  While his durability and strength had
always remained higher than Ranma's, he knew that he had
never been at quite that magnificent level of
near-invulnerability since the time immediately after his
week of brutal training with rock and rope.  It only made
sense, then, that if he were to match the intensity of
Cologne's regimen - no, if he were to SURPASS it - then he
would push his endurance past even the limits that he and
Ukyou had tested when they had trained together in the
countryside.  Then, when it came time to fight in the
tournament, his body would be like a piece of iron,
impervious to even Ranma's strongest blows... 

It would be painful, to be sure.  But what was mere physical
pain to one such as Hibiki Ryouga?  What were a few nights
of body-wrecking torture when compared with the opportunity
to see that fear in Ranma's eyes again? 

On the surface, Ryouga understood that there were other
fighters in the King of Nerima tournament, but in his heart
it was the same battle that he had been fighting for years: 
him against Ranma.  This time, it was a tournament.  This
time, he wouldn't be turning into a pig.  This time, there
would be no interruptions.  This time, there would be no
place for Ranma to run.  This time... 

"SAOTOME RANMA!  THIS time you will FALL!" 

And with that, Ryouga took a running start, took a flying
leap, and hit a concrete embankment head-first at full
speed. 

-----

Muhoshin Ryo had been watching Ryouga for the better part of
the evening, as was his occasional habit when he had no
other matters of great import to attend (and when he had
grown tired of arguing with his youngest sibling about
possible alternatives to his current hairstyle).  Accustomed
as he was to Ryouga's violent mood swings and unpredictable
shifts of direction, even he would not have guessed that
Ryouga would, out of the blue, suddenly begin to fling
himself head first into whatever solid objects he could
find. 

WHAM!  This time it was the side of a parking garage. 
Ryouga met it spread-eagle after springing off a street
lamp.  Ryo watched with morbid fascination as his rival
peeled himself out of the vaguely Ryouga-shaped crater in
the wall, staggered around woozily, and then backed up to
take another flying leap at the damaged wall. 

"RANMA!" he shouted.  WHAM! 

The facade collapsed.  Ryouga was buried under an avalanche
of concrete and rebar.  Ryo watched, a curious twinkle in
his (Gosunkugi-like) eyes, as Ryouga extricated himself from
the wreckage, laughed like a maniac, then charged off in a
random direction. 

At first, Ryo couldn't fathom what the idiot thought he was
doing.  It seemed like the lost boy was intent on beating
himself to a pulp.  While Ryo could certainly understand
THAT sentiment, he somehow doubted that Ryouga was
attempting to end his own life in this rather unorthodox
fashion.  It also didn't explain why he was shouting his
friend's name, over and over, in what was assuredly rage. 
Was he hallucinating, perhaps?  It seemed there was always
the odd poison, potion, or drug floating around Nerima. 
Perhaps Ryouga had gotten a whiff of something... 

Ryo watched as Ryouga staggered towards a fairly busy
street.  His rival wobbled a bit as he watched the cars go
by, then seemed to notice the tunnel several dozen meters
away.  An idea seemed to seize him, and he took a flying
leap onto the top of the next delivery truck which passed
by.  He found his footing on the top of the truck, turned
and faced the upcoming stone lip of the tunnel with arms
akimbo, and was summarily slammed into the overhang like a
bandana-clad wrecking ball. 

Ryo, with great effort, managed to bite back a bark of
derisive laughter. 

Ryouga's body fell from the tunnel overhang onto the road,
where he was immediately run over by a bus coming the other
way.  He skittered off the road and into a nearby park,
slamming to a halt against a thick tree trunk.  Ryo
approached cautiously, and was astonished to hear the boy
snickering. 

"Heh... goo... good one!"  Ryouga was muttering to himself. 
"I wonder... if I can find that tunnel again..." 

He wasn't hallucinating.  He knew what he was doing.  What
on earth could he possibly... 

As Ryouga staggered to his feet and began a futile search
for the tunnel, Ryo finally divined the answer.  Ryouga was
training.  It was his own demented version of the
boulder-on-a-rope bakusai ten-ketsu training that Ryo had
witnessed in China.  He was training, toughening himself up
for the King of Nerima tournament.

The revelation affected Ryo on several levels, though he
would never have admitted it.  On one level, he was
tremendously annoyed at Hibiki.  The idiot was obviously
doing this because he was fixated on beating Saotome.  Ryo
was, to a degree, insulted.  It would have been gratifying
if Ryouga had been shouting "Muhoshin!" as he battered his
way around Nerima.  After all, Ryo spent every other waking
hour obsessing about how he would best Hibiki.  It would, he
felt, have only been appropriate if Hibiki had returned the
favor. 

<Why would he need to?> a small voice in Ryo's head asked
snidely.  <After all, he's always beaten you...>

A small, violent mental struggle ensued.  Ryo didn't put up
with that kind of talk from anybody, even his own
subconscious.  Still... 

Still, at another level, he could not help but be grudgingly
impressed by the spectacle of self-abuse before him.  That
Ryouga had inhuman endurance came as no surprise, though it
was always rather jarring to see it so spectacularly
displayed.  It was Ryouga's willingness to put himself
through immense physical punishment for training that made
Ryo uneasy.  He could cover it all he wanted by calling
Hibiki an idiot, a fool, a madman, an addle-pated
masochist... but the fact was that his rival was showing a
level of reckless bravery that he, Ryo, would never be able
to match. 

Ryo knew that if he followed Ryouga's example, if he trained
himself in taking impacts with that kind of rigorous
abandon, that he would also benefit from it.  But he also
knew that he would never be able to commit to abusing
himself in that fashion.  He liked to think of it as using
his head for strategy rather than for a battering ram.  He
liked to interpret this as another sign that he was smarter
than Ryouga. 

He didn't want to listen to what the voice in his head that
sounded like Sensei Miyaji had to say about the whole
matter... 

Hibiki had not found his tunnel, but he had found something
else while Ryo was musing.  The lost boy was atop a
high-diving board, which was in turn positioned above a dry
swimming pool.  At first, Ryo thought the idiot was just
going to swan-dive into the concrete, but then he realized
that Ryouga was fumbling with a long rope.  Hibiki kept
checking the pool, measuring off a length of rope, muttering
to himself, and generally trying to focus his mind through
his punch-drunk haze.  Finally, seemingly satisfied, he
stood up, took a test-hop on the board, and hurled himself
into the air. 

"RANMA!" he bellowed as he plummeted almost twenty meters
into the concrete. 

Then Ryo saw the purpose of the rope.  The other end had
been affixed to the high diving board, which bent to the
limit of its flexibility at the terminus of Ryouga's dive. 
A moment after he pounded into the concrete, the board
snapped back.  The recoil hurled the lost boy skywards
again, up through the air past the board itself.  And down
he came once more. 

Ryo watched as the diving board dribbled Ryouga like a
basketball against the bottom of the dry swimming pool. 
Hibiki howled confused battle cries along the way, concrete
shattered, and the high dive creaked on his foundations. 
Something somewhere had to give... and it ended up being the
high dive.  As Ryouga made his descent (after who knew how
many repetitions), the whole platform groaned with fatigue. 
Instead of snapping him back into the air, the diving
apparatus - supports, ladder, pillar, board and all -
plunged down after him into the pool.  The thunder of
destruction echoed through the night. 

Almost a full minute passed, and Ryo was actually beginning
to hope that Hibiki had truly damaged himself in this
extravagant gesture.  But then he emerged, covered with the
dust of pulverized concrete.  His clothes were tattered, his
hair was a tangle, and he was covered with bruises and small
cuts... but he was laughing. 

Ryouga turned and surveyed the wreckage of the pool, nodding
in satisfaction.  "You'll see, Ranma," he growled, then
coughed up a lungful of dust.  "You'll see..." 

Still smiling, the lost boy staggered towards a tree trunk,
found a soft spot of grass, and collapsed into a deep sleep. 

Ryo approached the recumbent martial artist, cautiously at
first, but knowing full well that Ryouga slept like a log
even under the best of circumstances.  After that ordeal,
he'd probably sleep through a natural disaster.  Ryo stood
over his hated enemy, glaring down at him, and thinking. 

He had been in this position before.  He had refrained from
killing Ryouga in his sleep when he'd had the chance,
knowing that such an attack would not truly bring him the
satisfaction that he so keenly needed.  But tonight he was
not so sure if he shouldn't just get it over with right
here.  There's nothing quite like the certain knowledge that
you're going to be facing a true maniac in battle.  Ryo had
always known that his rival had the mental fitness of a
schizophrenic emu, but he had always been loathe to accept
that this trait actually gave Hibiki any actual advantage in
a confrontation.  Still, he wasn't quite as certain tonight.
Even Ryo had to admit he couldn't match Ryouga for pure
lunacy, so he'd have to rely on his intellect, which he was
confident was far superior to Hibiki's.  And the intelligent
thing to do would be to kill the fool right here and now. 

Or perhaps there was another way.  He might be able to turn
Hibiki's own insanity against him.  If he gave Ryouga an
injury here, something that would not completely cripple him
but would take a long time to heal, something that the
tenacious madman would not allow to stop him in the
tournament, something that Ryo could turn to his
advantage...  Yes, that was good.  Ryouga would think he'd
hurt himself in this absurd "training," nobody would know
the better.  Everybody would see Ryo triumph over his hated
foe once and for all.  Ryo didn't mind stacking the deck in
his favor... 

Ryo had a rather comprehensive understanding of human
anatomy.  He made a decision about just what sort of injury
he wanted to inflict.  He stole a quick glance about to make
sure nobody was watching, then raised his umbrella above
Ryouga's prone form.  The needle-sharp tip of the umbrella
gleamed silver in the moonlight... 

"Hold it right there!" 

Ryo whirled in shock towards the voice.  He was astonished
to see well over a dozen figures emerging from the shadows,
cloaked in black, wearing... hard hats?  They were adorned
with tool boxes and tool belts, but there was not a single
clink of metal to be heard.  Ryo couldn't believe that he'd
been taken unaware by a single person, much less a whole
group of them.  How long had they been there?  His anger
began to rise. 

One of them, a small woman, rushed to Ryouga's side and
knelt, tenderly inspecting him for wounds.  The rest moved
in, surrounding Ryo in an unmistakably threatening fashion. 
Ryo refused to be intimidated.  "I don't know who you people
are," he said casually, "but it would be best for your
collective health if you took this opportunity to leave the
way that you came." 

"You stay away from him!" the woman hissed. 

Ryo raised an eyebrow.  "This is not your business, whoever
you are."  His plan was probably ruined with so many
potential witnesses, but he refused to be backed down. 

A man stepped forward from the black-clad crowd.  He had a
severe face and his eyes burned with an intense fervor. 
"Normally, we are sworn not to interfere.  But tonight,
Muhoshin Ryo, we cannot allow this travesty!" 

They knew his name.  A large band of ... whatever they
were... gifted with stealth that would make a ninja look
like a pregnant hippo, and he didn't even know who they
were. This was starting to get on his nerves.  "Who," he
asked, trying to keep his irritation from showing, "do you
people think you are?" 

"In Nerima," the man said, "there exist two great passions. 
You are of the tribe that represents the Martial Artists,
who travel in the light, who fight the battles.  But we are
the ones who travel in darkness, never revealed, ever
silent.  We are the yang to the Martial Artists' yin, we are
the balancing force at the other end of the see-saw. 
Without us, you could not exist.  Without you, we could
never survive." 

"What on Earth are you talking about?" 

The woman tending to Ryouga spoke up.  "We are the Nerima
Public Works Corps." 

Ryo blinked in surprise.  "Beg your pardon?" 

"When you Martial Artists battle, when the ground trembles
as you modern titans clash, who do you think repairs the
damage?  When you shatter a wall, demolish a tree, or make a
crater in a street, who do you think it is that patches the
concrete, plants the seed, or paves over the asphalt?" 

The man (who Ryo assumed to be their leader) nodded.  "That
is correct.  We are the menders, who come at night and make
all things anew." 

Ryo was slightly taken aback.  Until now, it hadn't really
occurred to him how the damage that was done in the
multitude of Martial Arts fights got mended.  He felt rather
embarrassed that he had failed to consider this before (he
shouldn't have - it's a blind spot that all Nerima Martial
Artists have.  The same blind spot exists in certain
inhabitants of Graviton City, where a similar Public Works
Corps also exists).  Still, he might well turn this to his
advantage... 

"I see," he said.  "Then we owe you a great deal.  But I
assure you, if you let me continue my work for tonight, life
will be considerably easier for you.  After all, this..." he
gestured at Ryouga, mentally fishing for a suitably
vitriolic term, "... this moronic lunatic probably causes
more damage to Nerima than all the other Martial Artists
combined.  If I eliminate him..." 

"We know that!" the woman snapped.  "Of course we know that! 
Why do you think we love him so?" 

Ryo blinked.  "What?" 

"Don't you see?" the leader explained.  "We live to repair
damage!  It is our great joy in life.  Ever since this...
this wonderful, destructive boy came into our lives, we have
had the opportunity to practice our skills and techniques
like never before." 

The woman smiled fondly down at the still-sleeping Ryouga. 
"We have followed him since he first arrived.  Oh, we don't
interfere directly, but we've helped him in secret ways,
when we could.  We've left food out for him when he's gotten
lost, or hot water when he's needed it, and helped him find
his clothes and gear when he's lost them..." 

<Hibiki loses his clothes?> Ryo wondered.  <Is he even a
bigger idiot than I thought?>

The others murmured their agreement around Ryo.  "He was
always great," one commented, "but once he learned that
bakusai ten-ketsu technique... well, there's nobody else who
can wreak such utter havoc." 

Ryo narrowed his eyes.  "He's not the ONLY one who uses that
technique, you know." 

The woman gave him a cold gaze.  "Oh yes, Muhoshin, we know
you can do it too.  But you don't cause a fraction of the
damage that our beloved Ryouga does." 

"That's right," another said.  "You're nothing compared to
him." 

That tore it.  There was probably no single phrase which
could ignite Ryo's temper as quickly as that one.  He didn't
care about witnesses now.  "Get out of my way," he snapped
at the members of the Public Work Corps, brandishing his
umbrella, "or I shall be more than willing to give you a
piece of what Hibiki has coming to him tonight." 

The woman leaned protectively over Hibiki.  "No!  Bad enough
that Shampoo is gone!  I won't let you take him!" 

Ryo scoffed.  "Madame, I'm sure I don't care about which
personal hygienic products you have misplaced.  If I have to
dispose of you to get to Hibiki... so be it!"  He drew back
his umbrella, ready knock her out of his path. 

"Hisoka Electrical Wiring Strike!" 

Ryo leaped backwards as one of the shadowy figures stepped
forth.  A spray of electrical wires and cables flew outwards
from the man's extended hand, snaking their way towards Ryo
like living things.  He swiped with his umbrella, knocking
the bulk of them aside as he dodged the remainder.  "All
right," he snarled, "if you insist..." 

There was an easy way to disperse a crowd of foes. 
"GOU-RYUGEKI-KEN!" he shouted, spraying down a shower of
wild ki blasts towards the assembled crew.  Some of them
would also assuredly strike Ryouga, but that didn't bother
Ryo much... 

The energy rain pelted the turf, sending up chunks of sod
and grass, but the Nerima Public Works Corps were nowhere to
be seen. 

<Damn,> he thought, <forgot about their stealth techniques.>
He looked over to Ryouga to see if the errant blasts had
done much damage.  To his surprise, it seemed that a brick
wall which had been hastily erected between himself and
Ryouga had absorbed the attack. 

"Impressive," he said, "but if you think mere brick can keep
me out..." 

Suddenly, an extremely large and muscular member of the
Public Works Corps stood before him (practically
materializing out of the shadows in a most disconcerting
fashion).  "I am Masataro, the steel-bender," he announced. 
"Think that you can pass me?" 

The giant reached for Ryo, but he was far too slow to catch
the expert Martial Artist.  Ryo took a quick swipe at the
large man's right knee, not hard enough to break the bone
but hard enough to topple him.  Masataro dropped to his
knees with a grunt of pain.  As Ryo drew back for a strike
which would render the nuisance unconscious, though, heard a
series of rapid clicks and bangs. 

He turned, and discovered to his astonishment that his arm -
umbrella and all - had been trapped in a chaotic tangle of
shiny new pipes, protruding from the ground.  Another of the
Public Works Corps stood beside the pipe prison, twirling a
hex-wrench on the end of his finger. 

"Gokomatsu Special Instant Plumbing Defense," he commented. 

Ryo growled and energized his free fist with ki energy.  He
slammed the brass and iron prison with a sweeping blow,
tearing free bolts and fittings.  With another blow, he
wrenched his arm and umbrella free of the twisted trap.  The
plumber backed away from the enraged Martial Artist with his
eyes wide.  Ryo took a step forward to deliver a rapid
punch, but suddenly discovered that his feet were rooted to
the spot. 

"Hiromasa Ultimate Quick-Drying Cement Technique!" came the
explanation.  Ryo's legs were encased up to the knees in
solid concrete. 

Ryo's frustration level was on the rise.  "Bakusai
Ten-Ketsu!" he barked, focusing the breaking-point strike
through the tip of his umbrella.  The concrete prison
exploded. 

"Two-Fisted Caulking Gun Attack!" another one shouted.  Ryo
whirled and opened his umbrella like a spinning shield. 
Twin streams of thick spackle struck the umbrella and
sprayed off to either side in a shower of irregular white
blobs. 

"Hammer and Nail Rapid-Fire Technique!" came the call of
another Public Worker.  Ryo swiveled and ducked under the
stream of nails which lanced through the air towards him. 
He noted, with a certain degree of grudging respect, that
the attacker wasn't using a nail gun - she threw handfuls of
nails into the air and struck them with her hammer at
impressive speeds.  The flying nails embedded themselves in
a neat row in the wood of a tree behind him. 

Ryo took a step back, attempting to assess the foes arranged
around him, when something took a hold of him and hurtled
him into the air.  One second he had been standing on solid
ground, and the next he was locked in the branches of a
cherry tree.  Who had thrown him up here...? 

"Kozakura Instant Cherry Tree Ascension," came the answer. 
He disentangled himself from the tree and dropped to the
ground, in time to see the tree finish the last few inches
of its explosive growth.  <Am I dreaming?> he wondered. 
<Did they really just grow a tree right under my feet?>

The Nerima Public Works Corps had arranged themselves
defensively in front of Ryouga once more.  Their leader
spoke.  "As you can see, our Public Works Techniques are
every bit as refined as your own combat skills.  They must
be, if we are to keep pace with you Martial Artists." 

Ryo sighed.  Sometimes, it just didn't pay to let your anger
take over.  There were over a dozen of these fanatics
arrayed before him.  Defeating them could take all night,
and he had lost the momentum to keep going with such a
futile struggle.  "So, Hibiki has a crew of secret
protectors," he said.  "You understand, of course, that I
intend to rid the world of that fanged annoyance.  If you
seek to get in my way..." 

"We are pledged not to interfere in the clashes between
Martial Artists," the leader asserted. 

Ryo smirked.  "Oh?  And what would you call this?" 

The woman who had been hovering over Ryouga answered.  "When
you switch from being a Martial Artist to an assassin, all
bets are off!" 

"I wasn't going to..." Ryo shrugged.  "Never mind.  Have it
your way.  But I intend to bury this cretin, and I intend to
do it soon.  You lot are entitled to put flowers on his
grave when I'm done, but if you interfere in our fight..." 
He let the threat dangle, unspoken. 

"We understand," the leader said.  "Even if it means losing
our beloved Hibiki Ryouga, we shall not interfere." 

"Very well," Ryo nodded.  He felt he had managed to save
enough face in this whole sorry encounter to make a
dignified departure.  "So long, Nerima Public Works Corps. 
It's been... educational." 

------

Ryouga struggled his way back to consciousness shortly after
the first rays of dawn had struck his face.  He experienced
his customary wave of disorientation, uncertain of where he
was or how he had ended up sleeping here.  Discovering that
he was outdoors, on a soft bed of grass, with the morning
songs of birds in the air was a pleasant change from some of
the surprises to which he'd awakened in the past. 

He rose to his feet, yawning and stretching.  He was
somewhat sore from his training, but it was a pleasant sort
of soreness that felt almost comforting.  For a moment his
mind tried to go back to its previous train of thought
(i.e., rage towards Ranma), but then his stomach intervened
with some pressing demands regarding breakfast. 

<Hope I can find Ukyou's place,> he thought.  As he was
turning to leave, he almost failed to notice the green apple
at his feet.  <Mmm.  Must be my lucky day.>

Ryouga picked up the ripe fruit, polished it up with a
bandana, and took a bite.  He leaned against a cherry tree,
surveying the pristine beauty of the park for a moment. 
Sunlight glittered off the shiny rails of the high-dive
platform in the empty pool nearby.  Picking what he felt was
a likely direction, he began his search for his home once
again.  As always, he was unaware of the eyes that followed
his progress - the gazes of those who stood in the shadow,
their hearts full of love and gratitude that he would never
know. 


end. 


=======================================
 Author's Notes: 
=======================================

The More Things Change/The Pursuit of Happiness, by Rod M.,
is probably my favorite running Ranma fanfic series.  In
order for this story to make sense, it is rather essential
to have read those writings.  This little story fits into
the timeframe of The Pursuit of Happiness, shortly before
the King of Nerima Martial Arts Tournament. 

The origin of this story begins with my musings upon who
fixes the damage done by local martial artists in the Ranma
(and other) anime series.  The Nerima Public Works Corps
seemed the only logical conclusion.  I figured that the only
way that any community would put up with the sort of
nonsense that goes on in Nerima was if there were a
counter-balancing element to the destructive forces in play
-- an element which actually enjoyed dealing with the chaos
and restoring the damaged property. 

COPYRIGHT STUFF:  All the Ranma characters belong to
Takahashi Rumiko.  Muhoshin Ryo and the King of Nerima
Tournament were created by Rod M. 

GRT - April 1998 grayson@rigroup.net