Waters Under Earth

A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic by Alan Harnum - harnums@hotmail.com

All Ranma characters are the property of Rumiko Takahashi, first
published by Shogakukan in Japan and brought over to North
America by Viz Communications.

Commentary is craved.  Send it publicly, privately, whatever.  Just
send it.

Homepage at:  http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Bay/9758

Chapter 27 : Trials (3 of 3)
     
     And now they were in a different place, instantly and
shockingly.  Bright sun splashed down through the translucent 
jade leaves of the vast trees, laid tinted shadows across the
emerald grass of the ground.  Ranma stood with the other five 
near the edge of a great circular clearing ringed by trees
hundreds of feet tall.  In the centre of the clearing there was a 
tree that seemed to stretch up so high it would touch the sky 
itself, as thick as a building, gnarled and impossibly ancient.

     Two men stood with their backs to the tree, in the shadow of
the branches above them.  One was short and slim, plain-faced,
dressed in a rich tunic and pants of bright blue silk.  He held a
long, slender sword defensively before him.  The other was tall
and magnificent, inhumanly beautiful.  His hair was a wave of
cascading silver that fell past his shoulders, and he had the 
same features that marked Herb and Wiyeed's ancestry.  Ranma 
looked at him, and somehow, he feared the man more than any other 
he had ever seen.  He seemed to carry an immense power in him.

     The two men were ringed by a dozen other men and women in 
rich silken robes in all the colours of the rainbow.  All of them 
had ears with pronounced points.  Half of them had stark white 
hair, and the other half had hair of startlingly vivid shades of
green.

     "What is this place?" Kima said quietly, looking around at
the beauty laid before them.  Ranma saw that the trees grew 
thick, and some of them had been shaped into fountains that
splashed water into artfully-carved marble basins.

     "Wurdsenlin," Wiyeed whispered.  "It was the home of my
ancestors, and Herb's.  Before the World-Hater came."

     Ranma glanced to her, and saw that she wept.  Herb was
silent beside his sister.  Mint and Lime were looking around in
wonder, awed and confused.

     He squeezed her hand, as she had done to his before, and
turned his gaze back to the confrontation in the centre of the
grove.  One of the green-haired men stepped forward, raising a
hand accusingly and opening his mouth to shout something.  The
scene was like a silent film, however, and there was no sound
beyond their voices.  The silver-haired man, who wore black 
armour polished mirror-bright, silently laughed.  His short 
companion seemed less assured, his blade trembling with 
anticipation.

     Ranma realized what he was going to see with an absolute and
terrible clarity.  He had seen it before, from a different
perspective.  The men and women in their beautiful finery raised
their hands, and their hands were wreathed with power.  The
silver-haired man raised his, and two of those around him died
horribly, jerking and twisting as blood ran from their mouths.
His companion moved with stunning speed, thrusting his blade
through the heart of a green-haired woman in golden robes and
pulling back as she fell, golden robes bloodied.

     One of the the white-haired men leapt forward, drawing a
curving blade from his belt and slashing out at the silver-haired
man.  His blow was true, and the man in the black armour stared 
in shock for a moment at the stump of his wrist and the blood 
that pumped with odd sluggishness from it, as if he had never 
been wounded before and did not know how to respond.
     
     Then he laughed, and gestured, and the earth cracked beneath
his foes and swallowed them, tongues of fire licking a dozen feet
into the air from the chasms that opened at his command, and
closed just as quickly with another gesture.  His short companion 
fell to his knees before the silver-haired man and prostrated 
himself, kissing his feet.

     The man Wiyeed had called the World-Hater reached down and
touched the bleeding stump of his right wrist to the forehead of
the short man.  Blood washed across the face of the man, and he
wept with joy, his tears mingling with blood.

     The World-Hater raised his remaining hand and clenched his
fist, and black fire became the world, consuming the great tree
he stood before, the grass, everything, everything.

     It washed over Ranma and Kima and Herb and Wiyeed and Mint
and Lime, and yet they were not consumed.  Now they were in
darkness again, standing upon stone and yet around them now was 
a thin circle of light that let them see each other.

     Wiyeed was weeping openly, her face buried in her hands.
Kima looked as if she were close to doing the same.  Ranma felt
as if he might at any minute.  Mint and Lime looked pale and
sick.  

     Only Herb seemed unaffected.  He stood with his fists
clenched at his sides and his head bowed.  Then Herb did 
something which forever changed Ranma's opinion of the proud,
arrogant prince.  Turning, perhaps more with a sense of duty than 
anything else, he took his sister into his arms.  He stood stoic 
and tall as she sobbed against his shoulder, staring at Ranma as 
if daring him to say anything.

     Ranma turned to Kima.  "You know who that was, right?"
     
     She nodded.  Said nothing.  Stared at the ground.
     
     "Master Herb?" Mint said petulantly, his voice cracking.
"When are we going home?"

     "You aren't," a beautiful voice said from somewhere beyond
the range of the light, the tones as smooth as glass.  It was the
voice of a king, of a god, of a man born to rule.  "You're going
to die here."

     And there was laughter now, cutting like a blade and cruel
as time.  So much hate here.  So much darkness.  So little light.

**********

     Akane knelt at the round wooden table in Shampoo's living
room, before a cold fireplace, and sipped her tea.  In the 
kitchen, she heard the sound of Genma and Happosai talking with
Shampoo's father.  Pipe smoke drifted out the open doorway and
hung near the high rafters of the living room.

     Across from her, Ryoga yawned, covering his hand with his
mouth.  "How long are they going to take?"

     "Could be long time," Shampoo murmured softly.  "You go to
bed if you want, Ryoga.  Father can make up guest room for you."

     Ryoga shook his head.  "I'm staying up until we find out.
No matter how much tea I have to drink to keep awake."

     He punctuated his point by pouring himself another cup from
the steaming kettle that lay in the centre of the table.  His
hands trembled as he did.  He looked as tired as Akane felt.  The 
long journey to reach Shampoo's village had taken its toll, and 
none of them had slept since they'd woken this morning.

     That wasn't entirely true, Akane noted, glancing to Rouge,
who already appeared half-asleep, her head bowed where she knelt
at the table.  As if alerted by Akane's gaze, she jerked her head
up suddenly and mumbled something sleepily.

     "Go to bed, Rouge," Shampoo said with unusual kindness.  
"You falling asleep at table."

     "No, it's okay," Rouge said, shaking her head and looking 
up.  She cupped her chin in her hands and rested her elbows on
the table, looking blearily at Shampoo.  "How does a woman become
part of your tribe, anyway, Shampoo?"

     Shampoo blinked.  "Easiest way is to marry man of tribe.  
Why you ask?"

     Rouge yawned and closed her eyes.  "No reason..."
     
     Shampoo shrugged and sighed.  "Waiting is worst part of it.
Not knowing what going to happen."

     Ryoga nodded and gulped down his entire teacup in one swift
motion.  "Uh-huh."

     There came a knocking at the front door.  Everyone snapped 
to attention immediately, even Rouge.  Happosai, Genma and
Shampoo's father came in from the kitchen, and Shampoo's father
bustled quickly down the hallway to the front door to let in the
knocker.  He returned moments later with Lang Bei, his eyes
unreadable behind his dark glasses.

     Mousse's grandmother looked around at the people in the room
for a long moment.  Her eyes hung a bit longer on Shampoo than 
anyone else, and then she spoke.  "The Council has reached their
judgement.  There was a split in the votes first.  Half voted in
support of exile, the motion put forward by elder Fang Shi.  
Half voted in support of public reprimand, the motion put forward
by myself."

     Her face softened slightly, and she looked at Shampoo with
surprising tenderness.  "Elder Fang Shi put forward another 
motion which was passed by eight votes to four.  At sunrise 
tomorrow, you will go to Jusenkyou and be tried by the waters 
there.  Elder Fang Shi will serve as the executor of that
judgement.  I will accompany her to ensure the fairness of it.
You may choose two companions to serve as witnesses to your
judgement.  Elder Fang Shi will be doing the same."

     She was silent for a moment.  "Thus is the judgement of the
Council."

     Akane looked at Shampoo.  The girl had gone deathly pale.
     
     Lang Bei asked Shampoo something in Chinese, and Shampoo
answered in the same, bowing her head with acceptance.  She
switched to Japanese moments later.  "I understand and accept my
judgement, elder Lang Bei."

     "I will come for you at sunrise," Lang Bei said gently.  She
turned and walked away without another word.

     Shampoo looked around the room at the stunned faces of the
others.  "No say anything.  Nothing to say.  Judgement is
rendered, and I meet it.  We sleep now.  Night be over soon.  Day 
will come, and I do what I must."

     She rose stiffly from the table and walked away.  None of
them, perhaps sensing that none of them could help in any way,
moved to follow her.

**********
     
     It was an hour later that Nenreiko came back, and she was
not alone.  Konatsu and Ukyou had passed it in uncomfortable
conversation; she had given up trying to convince him to leave
after the first fifteen minutes, and was now only trying to find
out as much as she could about Kenzan.  Konatsu was extremely
reticent, however, and told her little of use.  Training was
harsh, he told her, but beyond that, there was nothing else.  No,
he was not happy, but he was not meant to be happy, and happiness
was not a right.

     This time, Nenreiko did not knock.  The door to the room 
opened while Konatsu was in the bathroom filling another cup of 
water, and Ukyou involuntarily gave a slight whimper of fear as 
she saw Hako behind Nenreiko.

     "It is still too early," Nenreiko said angrily as she 
stepped in ahead of Hako.  "She is still too weak."

     "You weren't supposed to heal her in the first place," Hako
snapped back.  The tension was thick between the two women.

     "We mustn't fight among ourselves, sisters," a third voice 
said from the hallway behind them, light and elegant.  "That will
accomplish nothing."

     The woman who stepped into the room next was taller even
than Hako, skeletally gaunt.  Her eyes were bright and unfocused
in a fleshless face framed by stringy, dirty hair, and she 
tangled her long fingers in front of her continually without
seeming to realize it.
     
     Hako turned and glared at her.  "Stay out of this, Fuhaiko."
     
     "Watch your words, Hako," the gaunt woman answered back,
giggling slightly and waving an admonishing finger at the
kunoichi, the long sleeve of her dark green robe shifting with 
the motion.  
     
     Konatsu stepped out from the bathroom.  "What are you--"
     
     "Konatsu," Hako commanded, turning away from her argument
with the other two women to look at him.  "Be quiet.  Stay 
where you are."
     
     Konatsu looked as if he might argue for a moment, and then
Ukyou saw the fight go out of him with a twinge of 
disappointment, and he leaned against the frame of the bathroom
door, folding his arms across his chest with an unreadable
expression on his face.

     The gaunt woman, Fuhaiko, looked back into the hallway.
"Come in, little worm."

     Ukyou heard a shuffling of feet from beyond the open door,
and an old man almost as withered as Cologne or Happosai stepped 
into the room, a walking stick held in his lined hands.  His long 
white hair was up in two high tails, and his expression reminded 
her of a dog that had been recently beaten.  Oddest of all, a 
crow perched on his shoulder, regarding her with beady yellow 
eyes.

     She remembered that she wore only a nightgown, and 
self-consciously tugged the covers up past her chest, but not
before she saw the old man's eyes focus on her.  The look he gave
her reminded her of Happosai, but there was much more coldness in
it.  

     "Hello, little girl," Hako said, giving her an unpleasant
smile.  "These are some friends of mine.  I believe you already
met Nenreiko.  That other one is Fuhaiko, and an associate of
hers.  His name escapes me."

     "I think he has one," Fuhaiko remarked cheerfully.  "But I
just call him little worm.  Isn't that right, little worm?"

     The old man regarded Fuhaiko with a look of fear that barely
disguised his hatred.  "Yes."

     Fuhaiko giggled again.  "Good worm."
     
     Nenreiko broke her silence.  "I still do not like doing it
so soon, Hako."

     "Time is not something we have, Nenreiko," Hako answered
shortly.  "Just do it.  The girl will be alright.  She is
surprisingly resilient."

     She turned her eyes to Ukyou.  "Isn't that right?"
     
     Ukyou gathered all her courage.  "Go to hell."
     
     Hako laughed.  "Been there, done that."
     
     Fuhaiko giggled, and Nenreiko's permanent smile seemed to
increase slightly.  Hako stepped up to the bed and leaned down,
gazing into Ukyou's eyes.  The wound that Ukyou had done to the
right side of her face had become a puffy white scar already,
running from above her ear to her jaw.  "Watch your tongue with 
me, little girl, or I'll cut it off."

     "Get away from her."
     
     Konatsu's voice was sharp.  He had not moved from where he
stood by the door, but Ukyou saw the same fire in his eyes as had
been there when she'd woken up.  "Don't touch her, Hako.  Don't
even threaten her."

     Hako straightened up and backed away, raising her hands and
smiling.  "Fear not, my dear girl.  I shall not lay a hand upon
her."

     Nenreiko stepped past the tall kunoichi and smiled at Ukyou.
"This will probably hurt more than what I did before."

     She moved with surprising quickness, hands reaching out and
grabbing the sides of Ukyou's head.  Nenreiko's thumbs pressed
against her open eyes before Ukyou could instinctively close her
eyelids, very lightly, but still painfully.

     And then Ukyou felt her mind raped.  There was no other way
to describe it beyond that, an absolute violation of the deepest
core of her memory and being and soul, an instant grabbing and
disregarding of years and years of experience, until the gouging
probe, the searching hand, found what it wanted and drew away,
leaving her broken and weeping and sick.  It had taken only
seconds, but it might as well have been eternity.

     She heard Konatsu gave a cry of rage, realized she must have
screamed, and saw him leap across the room at Nenreiko.  Fuhaiko 
waved her fingers at him dismissively, and his leap suddenly 
changed direction to send him slamming into the dressing table, 
his head colliding with the mirror with a sickening crack, 
shattering it into fragments as his body sent glass bottles of 
perfume and jars of makeup crashing to the floor.

     Hako had a knife to the gaunt woman's throat in an instant,
pressing lightly till it drew a line of blood.  "You stupid 
bitch," she snarled.  "If there is any permanent damage..."

     "There is none," Nenreiko interrupted from where she knelt
down by Konatsu.  "A minor scalp laceration.  I can heal it in an
instant."

     "Get away from him," Ukyou shouted, or tried to, but it came
out as a thin wail.  She could feel tears on her face, still feel
the touch of that hand upon her mind and soul, like a foulness
inside her skin.  

     Nenreiko ignored her and pressed her hand to Konatsu's
bleeding forehead, as he lay unconscious on the ground.  He
spasmed and screamed, but even from here, Ukyou saw the bleeding
slow to a trickle and then stop.

     "What are you?" she whispered fearfully as Nenreiko stood
back up, limping heavily across the floor.

     Nenreiko's smile still on her face, but now Ukyou saw for
the first time, how cold the brightness of her eyes was, like
dark ice glinting in the sun.  "I am, you could say, a 
connoisseur of pain.  It is why Hako and I get along so well.  We 
share similar interests.  Unlike her, however, I am capable of 
doing wounds far deeper than the body.  And I can keep my 
patients alive longer."
     
     "Do you suppose you could put the knife down now, Hako?"
Fuhaiko said quietly and calmly.  The old man appeared to be
trying to make himself inconspicuous in one corner of the room,
his cold, hungry eyes staring at Ukyou as she lay in bed.  The
ugly black bird on his shoulder squawked softly and preened one
wing, dropping what looked like a maggot onto the floor of the
room from its filthy plumage.  The old man casually brought his
foot down on it, mashing it into the carpet.

     Hako took the knife away from the gaunt woman's throat and
ran a red-gloved finger along the bloody edge.  She popped it 
into her mouth and grimaced.  "You need to eat better, Fuhaiko.  
You taste like a sewer.  Whatever drugs you have coursing through
your system right now don't help very much."

     "I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Fuhaiko drawled.  
"Come, little worm."

     She turned and walked out of the room, the old man following
her.  Nenreiko walked a step behind, and soon only Hako remained.
The white-haired woman regarded Ukyou distastefully for a moment, 
licked her lips, and tucked her knife away somewhere.  She walked 
over to where Konatsu lay on the floor amidst the shattered glass 
of the mirror, and picked him up in her arms with surprising 
tenderness.  

     "Oh, my little pretty one," Ukyou heard her say in a whisper
as she cradled Konatsu like a child.  "If only you knew what
glorious fate awaits you."

     She turned and walked over to the bed, then deposited 
Konatsu next to Ukyou.  "Believe it or not, my dear, I think we
both feel we have her best interests at heart.  I cannot hurt you
for risk of what she may do.  But you cannot convince her to 
leave because of her fear of what I may do.  A most interesting 
triangle we are in, is it not?"

     "Konatsu is a man," Ukyou said bluntly, forcing down the
fear that she felt faced with the brutal leader of Kenzan.
     
     Hako smiled condescendingly.  "Of course she is.  I look
forward to this coming contest, dear.  I am sure the results of
it will be most interesting.  Apologize for me to Konatsu for 
Fuhaiko's stupidity when she awakes, will you?  I have things to
discuss with those two."

     She turned and walked to the door, then paused and looked
back with her hand gripping the frame.  "And please don't try to
run away.  You won't get far with your knee like that, and if you
do, I just might let Nenreiko do her little trick to you again."

     Ukyou shuddered at the memory, and found herself desperately
wanting to bathe, as many times as she could, though she knew 
that no amount of water could ever make her feel clean again.

     Hako walked out and closed the door.  Ukyou looked down at
Konatsu, then carefully moved his limp head into her lap and
stroked his dark bangs away from his forehead, grimacing at the
caked blood.  The air of the room was filled with the 
sickly-sweet scent of smashed perfume bottles.  She had never, 
ever believed that a situation could be truly hopeless, but this
came as close as any she had ever been in.

**********

     Nabiki lay on her bed and stared at the unturned pages of
her book.  She glanced to the digital clock in time to see the
numbers change, and then glanced back to the book.  Modern 
Japanese history simply was not holding her attention right now.

     With a sigh, she closed the book and dropped it on the floor
beside the bed.  The thump as it hit the ground was louder than
she'd expected, and was accompanied by a soft knock upon the 
door.

     "Come in," she said wearily, sitting up on the bed.
     
     Kasumi stepped in, a tray balanced precariously in one hand
as she grasped the doorknob in the other.  "I thought you might
like a snack, Nabiki."

     A sharp reply rose to Nabiki's lips, but she pushed it 
down, realizing that she was hungry.  "Thanks."

     Kasumi pushed the door closed with her foot and walked over
to stand by the bed.  There was a steaming mug upon the tray, and
a plate of peanut-butter toast.  Nabiki accepted the tray gladly,
balancing it on her knees.

     "Are you feeling all right, Nabiki?" Kasumi asked, reaching
out and pulling over the desk chair to sit down in.  "You've been
awfully quiet these last few days..."

     She suddenly put a hand to her cheek.  "Oh.  I suppose you
miss Akane, don't you?"
     
     Nabiki nodded and sipped from mug.  The warm, sweet taste of
cocoa filled her mouth.  "Yeah.  Things were a lot more 
interesting with her around, at least."

     She put the mug down and looked at Kasumi's unreadable face.
"How'd you enjoy dinner last night?"

     Her older sister was silent for a moment before she 
answered.  "It was nice."

     "I'm just sorry Pantyhose boy had to take that time to show
up," Nabiki muttered.  "He almost ruined the whole evening.  
Guess you enjoyed seeing Tofu, though, huh?"

     Kasumi nodded vaguely.
     
     "You ought to go visit him again," Nabiki said.  "He's 
really got it bad for you, sis."

     Kasumi looked strangely uncomfortable.  "I don't know what
you mean, Nabiki."

     "Sure you don't," Nabiki said with a wink.  "I could always
set up another dinner.  For just the two of you, maybe?"

     "Please don't go to trouble on my account."
     
     Nabiki realized vaguely that all this was only another
escape, another way of running like she had in the park, but she
went on.  "Nahh, it would be easy.  I could get dad out of the
house, take him to dinner, and you and Tofu could..."

     "Nabiki!"  Kasumi's voice was sharp.  "That's not
appropriate.  Not appropriate at all."

     Nabiki blinked.  She knew her sister's morals were a little
more dated than hers, but this was ridiculous.  "Kasumi..."

     "I have to go," Kasumi said, standing up from the chair.  "I
have things to do.  Laundry.  Washing."

     "Kasumi, wait," Nabiki said.  "Please, wait."
     
     Kasumi paused, not sitting back down, but not heading 
towards the door either.  Nabiki struggled for the words, 
glancing down at the tray as she did so.  Kasumi had drawn little
happy faces in the peanut butter on the toast.

     A memory rose up from years back, lying sick in bed with the
measles, and Kasumi had brought her peanut-butter toast with
happy faces on them and cocoa all day long, and stayed and read 
her stories.  Nabiki felt a sudden, unwanted wave of affection 
for her dear, sweet, slightly dim older sister, and it left her
feeling guilty and shaken, almost as much as her meeting with
Kuno had.

     "Look," she said finally.  "If you're not ready, that's
okay.  I won't try to set up anything more with Tofu if you don't
want me to.  But any time you feel the urge, just tell me.  I'll
see what I can do, okay?"

     Kasumi nodded.  "Okay."
     
     Nabiki waved a hand at her sister, smiling.  "Go do what you
have to do, sis.  I'll see you in the morning."

     Kasumi smiled back.  "In the morning."
     
     Something passed unspoken between them, something that had
not been there in many, many years.  Kasumi opened the door and
walked into the hallway.  Nabiki listened as her footsteps
retreated away, and heard the stairs creak as her older sister
walked down them.  Now she was alone again, and she could not 
run any longer.  Day by day, her information grew less and less,
her usefulness less and less.  Yoshiyuki had always lied to her,
she saw that now.  Whatever interests he and his organization
held in Ranma, they were much, much more than what he had said.  
She was trapped, she realized sickly, truly realized it perhaps 
for the first time.  She had reached the top of the mountain, and 
was now gazing at what lay beyond, into an abyss deep as the 
ocean.

**********

     Off in the darkness, a spot of light swelled into being.
The place seemed to have no walls or ceiling, only a floor of
blank stone.  The World-Hater, the Ravager, stood in the centre 
of that light, a dozen feet away from Ranma and the others, and 
regarded them dismissively.  His gaze held no pupils or irises; 
red fire boiled in the sockets of his eyes, above a cruel and 
smiling mouth.  His silver hair played about him, as if in a wind 
that touched only him.

     He floated a foot off the ground, bobbing slightly.  The
right hand, the one that Ranma had seen severed in that nightmare 
vision four thousand years old, was an articulated thing of 
polished silver, bejewelled and with too many fingers with too
many joints.  

     His blazing eyes swept over them, and he laughed again, 
coldly and with cruel humour.  "This is what they send to fight 
me?  Crippled things and children?  What of the Phoenix and the
Dragon?  What of them?"

     Ranma tried to move.  His feet seemed rooted to the floor,
his tongue thick and clumsy, his thoughts slow and half-frozen.  
"How did you bring us here?"

     "How does not matter," the Ravager said in his beautiful
voice.  "Only why.  You have come here to be judged, Lord of
Waters, you and those whose ancestors chose to oppose my will and
the will of my great god.  For he is a vengeful god, and shall
visit upon the daughters and the sons a thousandfold his fury, 
for the first defiance and the last."

     Herb turned, releasing his now-silent sister and taking a
step towards the Ravager.  He paused at the edge of the circle of
light.  "Better to die than live as tools of the darkness."
     
     "Such noble sentiment, little prince," the World-Hater said
with a sneer.  "I wonder how long it shall sustain you?  You are
of little use to me.  Your will is too strong now for me to break
through in the vessel of your flesh, and it is not even worth the
effort.  He who was gloried with my blood walks among the Valley 
of the Waters again, and he shall do my will, sweet pawn that he 
is.  You are of little use to me.  The whore you call sister and 
your imbecile guards are of no use whatsoever."

     He turned his burning eyes to Ranma.  "You, Lord of Waters,
have your own uses to fulfil in what unfolds.  You I shall allow 
to live."

     And at last, his eyes settled upon Kima, and his sneer 
turned into a thin smile.  "And you, my broken beauty, what of
you?  I wonder if any pain I might give you would match that 
which you give yourself, oh pitiful and crippled thing?"

     Ranma felt a sudden, ugly rage rise in him, and he stepped
between Kima and the gaze of the World-Hater, breaking the line
of vision.  "Leave her alone."

     Behind him, Kima laughed.  "You can do no worse to me than
has already been done, you dead, mad thing.  I do not fear you."

     Ranma heard that for a lie, for there was fear in her voice,
but also a courage, burning pure and bright.  He met the flaming
eyes of the Ravager, reborn somehow in this lightless place
between the walls of time and space, and he smirked with a
confidence he did not really feel.  "It ain't gonna be easy for 
you."

     And somehow, the laughter of the World-Hater now was so
assured of his own power that it stripped away whatever thin 
vestige of confidence Ranma had truly had.  

     "Yes," the silver-haired man said, "it is.  It's going to be 
very, very easy."  He raised his left hand and clenched it into a 
fist, and all the light went out, everywhere.

-End of Chapter 27

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