Prologue:  Knocking on Heaven's Door.

	The hospital was sterile in the aesthetic as well as the medical sense.  White walls and tile floor enclosed a woman lying on a steel gurney.  They had wheeled her in her after the accident and would soon be wheeling her out again.  Her broken body had been patched up as well as possible, but her liver and spleen were shattered, and no replacements were available.  They had told her nothing, of course, just shot her full of morphine, but she could see it in her son's eyes -- no hope.
	Her son sat beside her on a small folding chair.  He was seventeen and powerfully built, loose shirt and trousers failing to conceal his bulk.  He gripped his mother's hand tightly.
	"Mother," he whispered.  She stirred, rustling the tubes and wired attached to her.  "I want to talk about my father."
	She smiled at him, eyes blurred by the painkillers, and her free hand fluttered up to touch his cheek.  "My son," she said.  "So strong.  So like a pig.  I see him in you every day."
	"Who was he, mother?"
	"He was so sad.  So lonely.  I gave him the best comfort I could, but I knew he had to go back to her.  It was his honor.  He was a very honorable man, your father."
	"Mother, please."
	"As honorable as a pig."  Hidoshi rolled his eyes.  Mom and her pigs.  "I couldn't tell him I was pregnant.  It would have destroyed him."
	Her voice wavered, and Hidoshi leaned closer, alarmed.  "Please, mother.  I need his name."
	"His name...."
	"Yes?"
	"Hibiki.  Ryoga Hibiki."
	Hidoshi leaned back, inhaling.  His mother's hand fluttered again, like a butterfly.  "But my son... you must promise me..." she coughed weakly.  "Promise..."
	The monitors shrieked as she slumped back. Hidoshi's face twisted and he pressed her hand to his face.  He was dimly aware of two nurses entering the room and checking for vital signs.  "Call Doctor Yamamoto," said one to the other.  He turned off the monitors as his colleague left the room.   
	Hidoshi stood up, fighting back tears.  He refused to cry.  He was a martial artist, and weeping was not the way of the martial artist.  The way of the martial artist was beating the living shit out of anyone who crossed you.  Definitely not weeping.
	His father had basely impregnated and abandoned his mother, leaving her to raise his seed in poverty and shame.  Ryoga Hibiki had destroyed his mother's life, just as the drunken driver had destroyed her body.  And while the law would punish the driver, it was up to Hidoshi to punish his father.
	"Mother," he whispered.  "Mother, I swear..."  He raised a fist to the ceiling and roared.  "I WILL PUNISH YOU, RYOGA HIBIKI!"
	The remaining nurse turned to glare at him as he strode purposefully into a supply closet.

	Ranma 1/2:  Someday Never Comes
	
	Written By David Homerick
	Based on "Ranma 1/2" by Rumiko Takahashi

		"The time and tears went by
		 And I collected dust.
		 Oh, there were many things
		 I didn't know."
		 	-- John Fogerty

	Chapter 1: Saturday Night's All Right for Fighting.

	"RAN -- KO -- CHAN!"
	"RAN -- KO -- CHAN!"
	The chant swelled as Ranma's opponent slumped to the floor of the ring.  The referee grabbed Ranma's hand and raised it high over his head.
	"Winnerrrr..." he bellowed into the mike, "RANKO-CHAN!"  The crowd roared as Ranma waved enthusiastically to it and racked his brain for something suitably girlish to say.
	The championship belt was returned to him, along with a giant bouquet of roses.  Someone pushed a mike in his face.  "Oh, wow!" he squealed.  "Did I really win?  I'd like to thank all my wonderful fans...  I LOVE YOU ALL!" he called, bouncing excitedly on his toes and waving the bouquet.  His girl-body's breasts bounced too, and the roar of the crowd increased.  That should sell a few extra tickets, he thought, and turned to leave the arena.
	Trouble.  The crowd poured out of the seats and onto the floor.  Ranma dashed down the rapidly closing aisle towards the exit like an Egyptian getting the hell out of the Red Sea.  The crowd crashed together behind him as he reached the tunnel and surged after him. 
	I wonder what set them off? he thought.  I've finished fights stark naked and never had them charge me like this.  'Course, maybe that's it.  Maybe they didn't get to see as much of Ranko-chan as they thought they'd paid for.
	He dashed around a corner, past two security guards, up a hallway, and into his dressing room.  He slammed the door and threw the bolt, then leaned against it, panting.  This girl-body may look young and sexy, he thought, but I'm still a forty-year-old man inside.  You're slowing down, Ranma m'boy.
	The pounding of footsteps reminded him that he needed to hurry.  He peeled off the sheer red-and-black leotard and, with a splash of hot water, reverted to a middle-aged man.  He dressed quickly, pulling on pants, shoes, shirt, and coat as the door began to bow inward.  Finishing with a pair of sunglasses, he sent a quick message over the intercom and drew the bolt.  The crowd tore it out of his hands, poured through the opening, then stopped short, disappointed.
	"As you can see," announced Ranma, "Ranko-chan isn't here.  Now, if you don't mind, I'd like you to clear out of her room."  
	"Ladies and gentlemen," came an announcement over the PA, "Ranko-chan has left the building."
	The crowd sagged and filed out.  One young man hung back, gazing about the room.
	"Yes?  Can I help you?" asked Ranma.
	"I... I wanted to talk to her.  To tell her..."  He blushed.
	"I thought so. Kid, you can't just barge into someone's dressing room just because you think you like her.  It's rude.  Hell, it's downright criminal.  How would you like it if some snot-nosed kid broke into your bedroom and jumped on you?  Would you think that was cute?  Would you like that?  Huh?"
	"I... I guess not.  I'm sorry."
	"Good.  I'll tell you what, kid.  You give me your name and address, and I'll see Miss Ranko sends you something nice."
	"A pair of her panties?" the boy asked hopefully.
	"Don't be obscene.  How about a nice autographed picture instead?"
	"That would be fine, sir."

	When Ranma arrived home, Akane was waiting up for him, and had him sit down while she cooked dinner.  This meant heating prepackaged eel teriyaki meals in the microwave, but if Akane wanted to call that cooking, Ranma wasn't going to argue.  When the meals were done, Ranma opened his, stirred the rice, and popped the tab on a can of Kirin.  Akane poked at her meal silently.
	"I was talking to Ryoga today," she said. 
	Ranma winced and put down his chopsticks.  "Yeah?"
	"He asked me if we had any plans to reopen the dojo."
	This was an old argument.  "What did you tell him?"
	"To talk to you."
	"I suppose he'll do that, then."  Ranma turned back to his meal.
	Akane's voice took on an edge.  "It's been four years, Ranma.  You said prizefighting was only temporary, until the scandal died down.  Well, it's died down.  Don't you think it's time you stopped shirking your responsibilities?"
 	Ranma scowled.  "I've made more money in four years of prizefighting than we did in fifteen years of running that dojo.  If Ryoga needs a job, he can help his wife in the restaurant, or go break rocks or something.  I don't see that I owe him a job."
	"You promised Father you'd run the dojo..."
	"Your father doesn't care," interrupted Ranma.
	"Well, *I* care!" shouted Akane.  "I want my family name associated with martial arts, not my sister's thievery!  If you had an ounce of decency, you'd drop this Ranko-chan charade, reopen the dojo, and give poor Ryoga a job.  You know why he can't find work."
	"The same reason he can't find anything else.  Ryoga was a lousy teacher, anyway.  If I had to hire someone from that family, I'd hire his wife."
	"Oh, I see.  You'll hire Shampoo but not Ryoga.  I wonder why that is."
	"Shampoo's a classically trained martial artist.  Ryoga's a self-trained brawler.  What's he going to teach kids -- getting lost?"
	Akane rose stiffly.  "Maybe he could teach them about honor."  She turned and stalked away.
	Ranma stared at his meal for a long time, then picked it up and stuffed it into the trash.  What a lousy way to end the day.

Chapter 2:  House in the Woods.

	The sun was beginning to set as Hidoshi finally found his teacher's isolated cabin.  Years ago, his mother had taken him to this mysterious hermit to learn the ways of the martial arts.  His classmates had been buzzing with rumors at school.  One said that the hermit was a great warrior from a distant land.  One said that he had withdrawn from the world because he had been spurned by a beautiful woman.  One said that he turned into a duck.
	"You're an idiot," Hidoshi had snapped.  "Nobody can turn into a duck."
	His classmate had insisted.  "He's a duck, I tell you!"
	So Hidoshi hadn't know what to expect from his new teacher.  Master Mousse, as he insisted on being called, had been a fierce taskmaster, drilling his pupil relentlessly as he seemed to stare through Hidoshi in a way that never failed to give the boy chills.  Eventually, though, Hidoshi had realised that his master was half blind and too proud to wear his glasses.
	He did turn into a duck, though.
	Master Mousse emerged from the cabin on hearing his pupil's approach.  "Where have you been, boy!" he snapped, facing a nearby tree.  "Neglecting your training again?"
	"Put your glasses on, you blind fool," Hidoshi snapped back.
	Fumbling in his robe, the man produced a pair of glasses and donned them.  He jumped, startled, on seeing the tree and turned to face Hidoshi.  
	"I came to say goodbye," said Hidoshi, lowering his head.  "My mother is dead."  That fact sat in the back of his mind like a toad, but Hidoshi refused to look at it.
	His teacher blinked.  "Your mother?"
	"Yes."
	"Dead?"
	"Yes.  A drunken driver."
	Mousse lowered himself to the ground.  "Dead.  Akari."  He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.  "I can't believe it.  She was fine when she last brought you.  I still have some of the food she left.  When... when did it happen?"
	"Three days ago.  I came straight here."
	"Poor woman.  She was... kind to me.  I shall miss her."  
	Hidoshi nodded.  Tears stung his eyes, but he rubbed tham away.  He would not cry.
	"Before she died, she told me the name of my father.  Ryoga Hibiki.  I must find him and...
	"Ryoga Hibiki!" screamed Mousse, leaping to his feet.  "That villain!  I always thought Saotome was my nemesis, but it was him all along!  The very day Saotome married, Hibiki made his move!"
	"What are you talking about?"  
	"Your father stole my Shampoo!"
	"Big deal.  Buy some more."
	Mousse cuffed him, hard.  "Idiot!  Listen to your elders with your mouth closed and your ears open, instead of the other way 'round.  Once, I was in love."
	"No shit?"  
	"None.  Oh, she was beautiful.  Hair like silk... wide eyes...
	"Uh-huh."
	"Sweet, soft lips...  long legs...
	"Okay."
	"Full, firm breasts..."  Mousse's hands crept up and cupped the air.
	"Will you get on with it!"
	"I loved her, but she was pledged to another.  But he didn't want her, he wanted this other girl, Akane.  And on the day he married Akane, the day my love would finally be free...
	"Yes?"
	"Hibiki beat her!  He forced her to marry him!"
	"He BEAT her?"
	"I never had a chance!"
	"That SLIME!"
	"And I could have done it this time, too.  I'd been practicing."
	"I'll KILL him!"
	"What?  You'll what?"
	Hidoshi stood trembling, fists clenched, nostrils wide.  "He is a monster!  A man like that must not be allowed to live!  I must destroy him, not just for my mother's sake, but for the sake of all women."
	"Your mother.  Yes."  Mousse fell silent, and they watched the sun sink through the trees.
	"I still have some of her food," said Mousse at last.  "It's not much -- just some rice balls -- but I'd like to share it with you.  We could eat it together and... and remember her."
	
Chapter 3: The Shampoo's Restaurant Massacree.

	Sayami Hibiki and her mother were working the restaurant alone when the phone rang.  It was midafternoon, in the slow period that followed the lunch hour, and there were no customers.  Sayami picked up the phone.  "Cat Cafe!"
	"Sayami?" came a familiar voice.
	"Mama!" Sayami called.  "Daddy's on the phone!"
	"Aiya!  Lost again?"  Shampoo stormed out of the kitchen and snatched the receiver from her daughter.  "Don't tell me.  Lost, yes?"  She waved Sayami back into the kitchen.
	Sayami grinned and retreated.  Daddy's sense of direction was an eternal vexation to Mama, who frequently (and loudly) wished he would just stay home.  But she always went to fetch him, even when it was raining and she ran the risk of turning feline halfway through the journey.  That didn't mean she wouldn't give him a hard time first, though.
	"So, where are you?  You don't know?  Of course not, being lost and all.  And you called to say you'd be late for dinner, yes?  How thoughtful of you.  That's not why you called?"
	Sayami was eighteen, and had gone to work for Mama full-time right out of high school.  She had inherited her mother's beautiful hair and something of her figure, and was widely considered to be the second-most-beautiful girl in the entire Nerima area.  She was very proud of her hair, and liked to show it off by brushing it out and fastening it with a pair of Mama's gold clasps just behind her ears, so it billowed down her back and past her thighs.  From her father, on the other hand, she had inherited an embarrassing set of eyeteeth that she thought gave her a predatory look.  Fortunately, she hadn't inherited Daddy's horrendous sense of direction, although she did have a tendency to get confused at intersections.
	The first-most-beautiful girl in Nerima was the twin sister of Kenshiro Tendo, her one true love.  If it were anyone else, Sayami might have been jealous, but the boy couldn�t marry his own sister, could he?  So there was nothing to worry about, save the horde of other girls who didn�t see how special Sayami�s relationship was -- including both of Sayami's sisters.  In any case, it was impossible to dislike Kimiko Tendo.  She had such an... aura about her.  People said she took after her aunt.  Not the criminal, the other one.
	"Pick you up?  But how can I pick up my beloved husband if he can't tell me where he is?"  Sayami stifled a giggle, knowing Mama would come back and smack her if she heard.  Shampoo might laugh at Ryoga, who was merely her husband, but to the children he was their father and to be accorded respect.  This was hardest on Sayami, who loved her Daddy but considered him a total doofbag.  Her sister Seiko, a year younger, didn't even like him much, but Seiko could dissemble while Sayami's face always gave her away.  The two younger children, on the other hand, actually looked up to Ryoga.  Sayami had no idea why.
	Mama was finally letting Daddy off the hook.  "Oh THOSE docks.  I know that place."  Of course she did.  Mama had installed a device that gave the address and phone number of the origin of any incoming call.  She had originally purchased it to make deliveries easier, but since she was the only one in the family that could reliably find an address before the food cooled, they eventually stopped making deliveries altogether and the device became strictly a Ryoga-finder.  
	Mama hung up and went upstairs to change into her riding clothes.  When she came back down, Sayami asked if she could keep the restaurant open until Mama returned.  Mama eyed her while pulling on her gloves.  
	"Think you can handle it?  Customers expect good food and good service, not one or the other.  This is a full-service restaurant, not some okonomiyaki-ya."
	"Oh, yes, Mama," replied Sayami.  "I 've been practicing my cooking and you know the customers like me.  And I'm sure I can handle both cooking and waiting the tables.  It's such a *slow* day, Mama."
	Shampoo sighed.  "Yes, slow.  Hard times for everyone."  She looked sadly around the empty room.  "All right.  When Seiko gets off school, put her to work.  Tell her 'Mama said.'  And call the house and leave a message, in case she goes straight home.  Once I get your Daddy home, I'll come back here."
	She walked out the front door, and Sayami heard her rev up her cycle and ride off.  Sayami was running the restaurant.
	By herself.
	Wow.
	She wiped the already-clean counters with a damp cloth, ran into the kitchen to rearrange the cooking utensils, ran into the ladies' room to brush out her hair, and posed by the door  to wait for a customer.  No, not by the door.  People might think she was selling something besides food.  She retreated to a seat near the kitchen.
	Half an hour later, she was still waiting.  Sayami jumped up as a shadow appeared at the door, but it was only Seiko.  Belatedly, Sayami remembered the message she had been supposed to leave.
	"Mama says you're supposed to wait tables.  She had to go fetch Daddy and she left me in charge."
	Seiko scowled.  "Oh, sweet joy of existence.  Only eighteen years old and you've already achieved all your goals in life."
	"Shut up.  Change your clothes and get to work."  
	Sayami swept regally back into the kitchen as Seiko slouched in.  The younger girl removed her pink-framed glasses and wiped irritatedly at her face.  It looked like she was going to be stuck in the damn restaurant again with her bubbleheaded big sister and wearing those cutsey-ass little uniforms.  Only now, instead of getting more than her fair share of tips from orally-fixated customers,  Sayami would be lording it -- ladying it? -- over her as High Queen of the Cat Cafe.   Seiko stomped glumly upstairs.
	After changing into her uniform, Seiko posed in front of a mirror and crooked a leg at her reflection.  She was taller than her sister, so her legs were theoretically longer, but Sayami could just bounce a little and get all the attention.  Bounce, bounce, bounce.  It wasn't fair.  She put her glasses on, removed them, and put them on again.  Working without her glasses gave her a headache and made it impossible to study, and she needed to study tonight.  Not only were her grades the only thing she could beat that stupid cow at, if she could get into a good college, she could finally get away from this damn restaurant.  
	As she came downstairs and turned the corner, she saw Sayami making a beeline for the door.  Looking toward the door, she saw Kenshiro Tendo standing outside, near a lightpole.
	"No!" she screamed, and charged after her sister.  When Sayami stopped to pull open the door, Seiko plowed into her from behind, sending both girls flying.  Kenshiro, startled, leaped straight into the air and over the girls as Sayami's forehead struck the lightpole violently, denting it somewhat.  She clapped her hands to her forehead and screamed.  Seiko backed away and took a defensive stance as Sayami glared at her, eyes red and swimming.
	"Hey, you okay?" asked Kenshiro.
	"No," Sayami moaned.  "She tried to kill me.  My own sister!"
	"I'm sure it's nothing," said Kenshiro.  "Lemme take a look."  He pulled Sayami's hands away and began to probe the afflicted spot.  "I guess it's okay," he said.  "You're not sleepy at all, are you?"
	"No," said Sayami.  She began to smile softly, enjoying his touch.
	Seiko watched the two angrily, berating herself under her breath.  Thanks to her clumsiness, Sayami got to play the sweet innocent while she looked like a bully.  She dropped her fighting stance, uncertain as to what to do next.
	Sayami reached up and gently touched the back of his fingertips.  Kenshiro pulled away.  "You're fine," he said, sounding annoyed.  Seiko's heart leapt at the sight.
	She stepped forward and bowed formally.  "I'm very sorry I hurt you.  It was an accident.  Please forgive me."
	Sayami scowled at her.  "Liar.  You did it on purpose."
	"I'm sorry you think of me that way, but that is not true.  I was clumsy, and I apologize.  But I was not malicious."
	"Oh, you liar!  Ken-chan, you saw her.  She came up behind me and shoved me right into the lamppost.  You saw her, right?"
	Kenshiro scratched at the back of his head nervously.  "I dunno.  It looked like an accident to me."
	"But...."  Sayami looked back and forth between her sister and Kenshiro, then lasped into silence.  She pouted and rubbed her forehead.
	"Look," said Kenshiro.  "I just came here to talk to your brother.  Have you seen him?"
	Seiko glanced at Sayami, then shook her head.  "Why don't you come in and wait for him?  I'm sure Sayami will cook you something."
	Kenshiro looked back and forth between the two.  "No.  I have to go."  He turned and walked away.  
	"Please?" Sayami called after him.  "Don't be mad, Ken-chan."
	"Don't call me Ken-chan," he called over his shoulder.  "I'm not a kid anymore."  
	The sisters watched him until he turned the corner, then glumly filed back into the restaurant.  "Why can't you just leave us alone?" complained Sayami bitterly.  Who did you think you were fooling with that Miss Japan 1867 act, anyway?  He doesn't like you."
	"Oh?  He didn't seem to care for your pawing.  Maybe he wants a girl who can actually have a conversation with him instead of just pushing her tits at him all the time."
	"I was not pushing my tits at him.  He was being nice to me and you ruined it.  You're the one who chased him away."
	"Then why did he take my side?  Huh?  You think those tits of yours make you special?  Think again, sister."
	"Will you shut up about my tits?  You're obsessed with my tits."
	"Oh, don't flatter yourself!"
	"You are!  I catch you staring at them, you pervert."
	Seiko flushed an angry red.  "I do NOT!"
	"My own sister!"
	"Shut UP!"  Seiko launched herself at her sister, punching and kicking.  Sayami backed away from the onslaught, then suddenly counterpunched, clipping her sister on the side of the head.  Seiko backed away and Sayami took a cat stance, one leg lifted slightly, ready to kick.  Seiko charged and dove, twisting to avoid the kick, then lashed out at Sayami's legs.  Her sister toppled onto a table, snapping it in two.  Both girls rolled to their feet, red-faced and panting.
	The two glared at each other.  Seiko's mouth was twisted into a snarl and her breath hissed through her teeth.  Her glasses had fallen off and her short hair stuck to her face.  Sayami was scowling and tears streaked her cheeks.  Seiko charged again.  Sayami jumped to the side, and, as Seiko's blow shot past, brought her hand down on the outstretched arm.  Seiko screamed, and Sayami kicked her in the small of the back, sending her flying into a cluster of chairs.
	"Hey!" came a voice.  "You're smashing up the place!"
	Sayami spun to see her younger brother and sister standing at the door.  Ryoshi was sixteen, but so small and frail that he looked younger than the fourteen-year-old girl who stood beside him.  He was the one who has shouted.  The girl, Shimi, eyed the room glumly.  "Mom's gonna kill you."
	Sayami was thunderstruck.  Mama had left her alone in charge of the restaurant for the first time ever, and now she'd never trust Sayami again.  "It's not my fault," she wailed.  "Seiko did it!"
	"I what!?"  Sayami turned to see Seiko picking herself out of the wreckage.  She wiped blood off her lip and glared at Sayami.
	"You did!  You attacked me!"
	"You called me a pervert!"
	"You ARE a pervert!"
	"Shut UP!"  Seiko leaped at Sayami again.
	"C'mon, Ryo-chan, let's get out of here," said Shimi, pulling the door open.  The two stepped outside as the brawl resumed.
	"I bet Kenshiro was here," muttered Ryoshi.
	"You can't blame him," said Shimi loyally.  "He never encourages them."
	"Don't you start."