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.

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

Any commentary, public or private, is very appreciated.

Chapter 28 : Judgements (2 of 3)

     Shampoo turned her gaze away from him.  "Rouge, you witness
my judgement?"

     That was a surprise, though.  Rouge looked shocked for a
moment, then nodded vigorously.  "I'd be honoured."

     Happening to glance to Akane, Ryoga was surprised to see an
almost hurt expression on her face that she quickly hid.  He
stood up from the table, and joined Rouge in walking to stand
with Shampoo before Lang Bei.

     "Come on, children," the elder said, turning with her grey
braid sweeping about her shoulders and walking towards the door.

     Outside, Ryoga stood in the wide streets of the village,
looking up at the sun rising in the distance.  Shampoo stood on
the short flight of steps leading up to the door of her house,
closing the door behind her.

     She turned away and walked down, glanced back once at her
home, and then walked off behind the striding figure of Lang Bei.
Ryoga glanced over to Rouge, nodded silently, and the two of them 
began to follow, as they all went walking towards Jusenkyou.     

**********

     "I can understand me.  But why her?"
     
     Shampoo glanced back.  "What?"
     
     Ryoga pointed up ahead, to where Rouge was talking 
animatedly to Lang Bei as the four of them walked to the west
towards Jusenkyou.  The land was rocky, cast in shadow by the
mountains that loomed all around.  "Why'd you ask Rouge to be a
witness?  Why not Akane?"

     "Not your business," Shampoo said shortly, and kept on
walking.  

     Ryoga quickened his pace to catch up with her.  "Shampoo..."
     
     "Rouge need to get rid of curse, right?" she said.  "This
easiest way to go to Jusenkyou.  You get cured as well, Ryoga."

     He was so stunned, he couldn't even speak for a long moment.
He hadn't even considered this; hadn't even given it a thought
when they'd planned to come to China.  But he could be cured.
Easily.  No more P-chan.  No more guilt, no more temptation.  No 
more lies.  They were a few hours from Jusenkyou.  He was with
people who could guide him to the right pool.
     
     "Ryoga?"
     
     He looked at Shampoo, his feet kicking up puffs of dust on
the trail as they walked.  "Yeah?"

     "You want to get cured, right?"
     
     He slowly nodded.  "But..."
     
     "Akane not yours, Ryoga," Shampoo said.  There was a touch
of something almost like regret in her voice.

     Again, he nodded.  "I know.  But..."
     
     What a relief it would be.  No more terror of cold water.
No more fear that Akane would discover his secret and despise 
him.  And yet...

     "I'm just being stupid," he murmured.
     
     Shampoo sniffed.  "No big change."
     
     He laughed.  They had left the village behind ten minutes
ago, following the trail through the hilly, craggy land that lay
nestled in the mountains.  Jusenkyou was not far from the village
of the Joketsuzoku, but it was avoided.  It was no legend among
them; it was a fact, dangerous and real.

     "I've always hated this curse," he said after a few seconds
of silence.  "Always.  I could pretend I didn't sometimes, but 
I've always wanted to be free of it."

     And now, finally, it seemed he would be, and he did not
understand why he felt so strange.  As if a part of him did not
desire to lose the curse.
     
     And about then, they crested the slow rise of the hill that
they had been walking on, and joined Rouge and Lang Bei as they
looked down upon Jusenkyou spreading out below them.  The rising 
sun spilled down across the dip in the land, cradled in the arms
of the mountains, that held the pools and they shone like 
mirrors in the light.  There was mist rising off them, hanging 
low about the water and the land, and twining about the bamboo 
poles as they rose up into the air, obscuring some of the finer
detail.

     Jusenkyou had recovered well from the flooding of weeks
before.  The pools were as Ryoga remembered them, so many of 
them, glittering in the sun like jewels.  Jusenkyou in the early
morning would have been a beautiful place to someone who did not
know the terrible history of it, and the horrors it could inflict
upon those who were touched by it.

     To one who did know, like him, it was beautiful still, 
beautiful in the way a blade might be, or a woman you knew could
not ever be yours.  The four of them stood looking upon it for a
few moments, taking in the sight.  Much later, after many things
had happened, Ryoga would summon that memory of Jusenkyou to his 
mind, the morning beauty of the place as he had first come to it
that day.  It would give him a certain comfort.

     They were torn from their staring by the sound of a voice.
"Elder Lang Bei."

     Bai Ling, who had challenged Shampoo's strength when the
other Joketsuzoku had returned, stood a dozen feet away, her arms 
folded across her chest.  Behind her, the small hut of the
Jusenkyou Guide stood, the door open.

     "Good morning, Bai Ling," Lang Bei said, turning away from
the sight of Jusenkyou.  "Where is your great-grandmother?"

     Bai Ling smiled slightly.  Her dark eyes flashed.  "Inside.
You need see what there as well."  Then she turned away and 
walked into the hut.

     "Insolent girl," Lang Bei muttered, walking towards the hut.
Ryoga followed, leaving Shampoo and Rouge looking down at 
Jusenkyou, where it lay a hundred feet down the gentle slope of
the hill the Guide's hut was built upon.

     As Lang Bei walked through the open door of the hut, Ryoga
saw her stiffen and stop; her hand tightened on the staff she
bore.  Moving up behind her, Ryoga looked by into the cramped
confines of the hut.  Fang Shi, Bai Ling and the Guide stood
around a small bed in the corner; Plum sat in one corner of the
hut, bouncing a ball against the dirt floor; a middle-aged woman
in Chinese robes that Ryoga vaguely recognized as part of the
Joketsuzoku Council leaned against the wall near the door, 
trimming her nails with a knife.  On the bed, covers pulled up to
his neck, was Mousse.    

     The woman near the door put her knife away and said 
something to Lang Bei in a snide tone, speaking in Chinese.  
Lang Bei stepped by her without a word and stood by the bed,
beginning a rapid conversation in Chinese with the Guide and Fang
Shi.

     The woman turned her attention to Ryoga.  She had a hard,
unfriendly face, in which youthful beauty could still be traced, 
though it had begun to fade some time ago.  "Outsider."

     She spat into the dust near Ryoga's feet and pushed by him,
as she left the hut, muttering under her breath in Chinese.

     "Ignore her," Shampoo said quietly, standing behind him.
"Bi Shou.  Not surprised Fang Shi choose her as other witness."

     Ryoga glanced to the gathering around the bed for a moment,
then turned away and went to kneel down by Plum.  "Hey Plum."

     The young girl looked up, letting her ball stop bouncing to
roll away into another corner of the hut.  "Hello, Ryoga."
     
     She held out her arms to him, and he gave her a quick
embrace, smiling as she wrapped her small arms around his neck.  
He liked the independent child who'd come all the way to Japan 
by herself, seeking to save Jusenkyou from destruction.

     Shampoo's voice was in the conversation taking place behind
them now.  No one sounded happy, particularly Lang Bei.

     "How did Mousse come here?" he asked, settling back to sit
on the floor.

     Sitting against the wall, Plum tugged on one of her pigtails
in a nervous gesture.  "We found him late last night.  By the
pools.  Father was going to go into the Joketsuzoku village later
this morning, but then the two elders arrived at sunrise and told
him to wait."

     She stood up and offered her hand.  "I'll show you."
     
     Ryoga followed her out of the crowded hut, her hand in his,
and let her lead him down the slope towards Jusenkyou.  Glancing
back, he saw Bi Shou looking at him balefully from under the
shadow of a copse of trees, her arms crossed.

     Plum took him along the winding, spongy earthen pathways
that led amidst the pools, and finally paused by one near the
centre, indicating it with a finger.  "Here."

     Ryoga looked around.  Off to the north, he saw a trail
leading along the high slope of one of the mountains, overhanging
some of the further pools.

     Some time ago, he had been an angry young man, wandering
along that trail, almost ready to give up his pursuit of 
vengeance and try to find his way home.  Jusenkyou had changed 
all that.  Had changed everything.  Somehow, it all came back to
here, back to this place.  Jusenkyou.

     He stared at the mist rising from the pools and thinning out
as the sun rose higher.  It clung damply to his hands and face,
made the Guide's house a dim and obscured shape and the mountains
looming and dark.

     "Which pool is this?" he asked quietly.
     
     "Nannichuan," Plum answered.
     
     Ryoga fell to his knees beside the pool, staring at the
reflection of his face.  It seemed impossibly deep; he could not
see the bottom.  The earth was damp, vital and fresh beneath his
hands as he pressed them to it.

     "Nannichuan," he said dully.
     
     Plum took a few steps back.  She looked worried.  "I 
shouldn't be out here by myself.  Father says..."

     Ryoga sighed.  "Go back to the others, Plum.  I've got to...
think for a little."

     Plum nodded and scampered away down the twisting paths of
Jusenkyou.  Ryoga gazed into the pool, looking for answers.

     "What are you waiting for?" he asked himself softly, 
watching as the reflection opened his mouth and spoke.  "This is
what you've always wanted."
     
     It lay in front of him, not fake or impermanent or drained.
A few steps, an immersion, and he would be rid of his curse.  
Why could he not take them, then?  Does the prisoner, on the day
of freedom, long for the walls of stone and bars of iron, and 
fear the brightness of the sun?
     
     "Ryoga?" 
     
     He gazed at himself in the pool.  "Just give me a minute,
Shampoo."

     "Don't be idiot, for once."
     
     Someone grabbed him firmly by the belt and tossed him
headfirst into the pool.  He gave a strangled yell, cut off by
the water closing over his head and entering his mouth.  He 
rose, feet finding purchase on the muddy bottom, soaking wet,
human, and vaguely astonished.

     Shampoo stood a few steps back, the closest thing she'd to a
smile all morning on her face.  "Men always so indecisive."

     Ryoga hauled himself out of the pool, dripping wet, and
glared at her.  "I would have done that eventually."

     "Not have time," Shampoo said shortly.  "Judgement is
starting.  You come now."

     Cold and damp in the morning air, wet clothes clinging to
his body, Ryoga followed her as she walked off through the
slowly-vanishing mists of Jusenkyou.  They met the others at the
edge, where the pools began.  The two groups were quite clearly
split; Lang Bei, Rouge, the Guide and Plum on one side, Fang Shi,
Bai Ling and Bi Shou on the other.  Fang Shi and Lang Bei were
staring intently at each other; the hostility between the two
elders was an almost physical presence in the air.

     Fang Shi flicked a glance to Shampoo and Ryoga as they
approached, and shifted the long polearm leaning against her
shoulder.  "Shall we get this over with?"

     Bi Shou leaned over and said something quietly to the older
woman, too softly for Ryoga to hear.  But he saw her gesture at
him, and Fang Shi gave a single, sharp burst of laughter.

     "Yes," she said, staring at Ryoga.  "He does rather look 
like one in that wet clothing, doesn't he?"

     "If you are done amusing yourselves," Lang Bei said tightly.
"I would have thought it beneath the elders of the Council to
mock those who come among us as welcomed guests, but, as has
occurred before, you have proven me wrong."

     Fang Shi turned in silence, ancient body moving with 
scuttling grace beneath the shapeless blue robes she wore, and 
leapt with astonishing ease to stand atop one of the poles, her 
great weapon held easily and loosely in both hands.  She 
shouted something to Shampoo in Chinese.

     Shampoo glanced at Ryoga for a quick second, a determined
look in her eyes.  Then, with a cry, she vaulted to balance on
one foot on a pole a dozen feet away from the elder, her other 
leg drawn up to her chest and arms raised in a combat position.

     "What are they doing?" Ryoga asked, moving to stand with
Lang Bei and the others.

     "They're going to fight," Lang Bei murmured distantly.  Her
eyes were on the hut on the hill.  "Fang Shi is going to try and
knock Shampoo into one of the pools, and Shampoo's going to try
not to get knocked off."

     "How long does that go on?"
     
     She spared him a brief glance.  "Until one of them gets
knocked off the poles."

     Fang Shi shifted her position slightly, pointed with her
crescent-bladed polearm at Shampoo.  The wicked edge glinted in
the sunlight.

     Ryoga stared, aghast.  "She's going to cut Shampoo to 
pieces."

     "No," Lang Bei said, her eyes returning to the hut that held
her grandson.  "She said she would not.  It is on her head if she
draws blood with that weapon."

     That did little to quell Ryoga's fear, but he fell into 
silence as he looked from Shampoo, poised and ready, to the old
woman perched across from her.

     "I hope she'll be okay," Rouge said, staring at the ground.
"What a horrible punishment..."

     "It has been one of our laws for thousands of years," Lang
Bei said quietly.  "We allow the waters their judgement at 
times."

     Fang Shi moved almost imperceptibly.  Shampoo gave a tiny
shift in response.  They stared at each other across the empty
space, and then Fang Shi darted forward, skipping from pole to
pole towards Shampoo.

     Shampoo leapt away, pursued by the elder, unable to even
attempt a counter-attack because of the length of Fang Shi's
weapon.  The ancient woman thrust and swung with almost blinding
speed, driving Shampoo further and further back into the centre
of Jusenkyou.

     A heavy silence hung over the watchers of the judgement on
either side.  Plum was clinging to her father's legs; the short
man rested a plump hand on her back, his expression grave.

     Whirling her blade overhead as she leapt, Fang Shi lashed
out yet again at Shampoo, a long, circular cut that carried the
weapon out in front of her in a wide arc.  It was slow and almost
comically easy for the agile girl to avoid, but the purpose 
became clear a moment later, as the bamboo poles for dozens of
feet beyond the arc of the elder's swing were chopped down as if
by invisible swords, some nearly to the base.

     "Some sort of air blade attack..." Ryoga murmured.  He began
to realize then that Shampoo had no chance here; Fang Shi was
very good.  All she was doing was delaying the inevitable.  The
knowledge of that left a sick feeling in his heart.
          
     Shampoo danced atop one of the cut poles for a moment, 
hovering less than a foot above the sparkling surface of a pool
before springing away to one that had been only half-cut.

     Fang Shi was close behind her.  Too close, Ryoga saw, and he
resisted the urge to shut his eyes as the elder swung at 
Shampoo's head with her weapon, seeming not to care for whatever
earlier promises she had made.

     The blade flashed, and one of the long tails of hair Shampoo
wore at the sides of her face fell away, splashing down into the
pool below.  Shampoo, off-balance, leapt to the side, twisting 
her body as she flew to present a harder target.
     
     It didn't matter.  Fang Shi followed up, reversing her 
swing, and cut off nearly half of Shampoo's hair at the back.
Ryoga heard Rouge gasp, but he could not look back, not turn his
eyes away from the scene being played out.

     Shampoo half-stumbled as she touched down on the next pole,
with Fang Shi right behind her.  The elder lashed out, a straight
thrust with the blunt end of her polearm.

     Shampoo leapt up and over the thrust, touching her feet down 
on the shaft of the weapon for a moment before she leapt for Fang 
Shi, her foot out for a kick.

     Against a foe less wily or skilled, it might have worked,
but Fang Shi was too fast and too good.  Angling her blow up, she 
tangled Shampoo's legs, hooked the shaft of her weapon behind one
of the girl's knees, and flung her away towards one of the pools.  
Ryoga heard her, faintly, laugh.

     Shampoo stretched out a desperate hand as she tumbled, and
snagged the upper part of a bamboo pole.  It swayed slightly, but
held as she clung to it, feet only inches above the pool it 
thrust out of.  Ryoga saw her begin to haul herself up with one 
arm, saw Fang Shi leaping from pole to pole towards her in a blur
of motion, and, seeing those two things, realized it was too 
late.

     Fang Shi swung her weapon.  The part of the pole Shampoo 
gripped was sliced away, and she plunged down into the pool, 
sinking below the surface with a strangled scream.

     Ryoga was running then, praying he wouldn't slip and fall
into a pool, praying he wouldn't lose his way in the mists and go
in the wrong direction.  The others were behind him; Fang Shi 
stood by the pool Shampoo had fallen into, resting the shaft of
her polearm on the soft earth nearby.
     
     "Judgement is passed," Fang Shi said quietly, and with a
great deal of cold triumph, as they approached.     
     
     "You should not have cut her hair," Lang Bei said just as
quietly.  "That is a form of public humiliation in the lawbooks, 
and was not required."

     "It was a battle," Fang Shi answered.  "These things 
happen."

     A few bubbles rose from the depths of the pool.  Below the
murky surface, Ryoga could see a dark shape, struggling.  It
seemed impossibly far down.
     
     He reached down and grabbed Fang Shi by the collar.  "Why
isn't she coming up?" he snarled.  The elder looked surprised for
a moment, and then slammed him crushingly to the ground with
ease.

     "In the old days, an outsider could have his hands cut off
for laying them upon a Council member," Bi Shou said from where
she stood behind them.  "It is unfortunate they are past."

     "Be quiet," Lang Bei snapped.  She turned to the Guide, as
Ryoga rose to his feet and dusted himself off.  "What pool is 
that?"

     The Guide opened his mouth to answer, but before he could,
Shampoo rose out of the water, gasping for breath.  What 
remained of her hair clung damply to her face and shoulders as 
she tread water in the pool.

     "Is Nyannichuan," she said wonderingly, holding up her hands 
in front of her and staring at them disbelievingly as she waded 
to shore.  "I... cured."

     Lang Bei looked at the shocked face of Fang Shi.  "It
appears indeed that judgement has been passed, elder Fang Shi.
Shall we return to the village and inform them of it?"

     Then, as if it had been ordained some time in the far, far
distant past, the last of the mists boiled away in the rising
heat of the day, and the light of the sun struck fully down upon
Jusenkyou for the first time that morning, and each pool gathered
the light unto itself, until each of them shone like a diamond,
like a crystal with a burning heart of flame.
     
**********     
     
     Nabiki surveyed the early-morning schoolyard, totally
deserted over an hour before classes started.  The sun was still 
rising, muted by grey clouds that streamed across the sky in a
long, dark cape.  

     A wind blew across her, and she shivered and hunched her
shoulders, gripping her bag tightly in both hands.  The morning
was cold; summer was fading to autumn, slowly, and the leaves of 
the trees near the gate of the school were turning with the 
passing of seasons, the transition of green to all the colours of 
flame, and eventually towards the fall, the drift from branch to 
ground, to be gathered then into pyres and burned.

     She never came so early.  But she knew that he did, some
days.  Not often, but often enough that she held some vague hope
he would be here, and she might surprise him.  That would give
her a slight advantage; better than arranging a meeting or 
showing up at his house.  

     She walked across the athletic field until she was behind
the school, out by the equipment sheds that stored yard tools and
sports equipment.  It was there she found him, a tall shape
standing on the grass nearby, defined in the light of the morning 
sun, blue and darker blue, and the wooden blade moving gracefully, 
and the shadow mirroring all motion on the ground.

     "Kuno," she called.  Not Kuno-baby, she wouldn't call him
that now.  Give him a bit of respect; find out what he actually
knew.  And don't let it show that she was scared.

     He turned and let his blade drop.  The point bounced once on
the grass and then came to rest, as he held the weapon loosely in
one hand.  "Nabiki Tendo."

     She willed herself to drop the bag she held across her body
like a shield and approached him, letting it swing casually in
one hand.  "Sorry I ran out on you last night."  Make a joke of
it, that was the way to go.  Don't show any fear.  

     "A certain modesty on your part is rather becoming," he
mused.  He smiled thinly.  The mask was down, like it had been in
the park.  "For once."

     She bit down whatever retort she might have had.  "Can we
talk?  I came early to talk to you."

     He nodded.  The wind gusted his hakima about his long legs
as he turned and walked to stand next to the wall of one of the
equipment sheds.  He sat down on the cold concrete as if it did
not bother him and laid his bokken over his crossed legs, resting
his back against the wall of the shed.

     Nabiki settled down across from him, trying to arrange her 
dress in such a way that it would protect her bare legs from the 
chill ground.  Kuno tracked her with his eyes as she sat.

     "So," she said, composing herself.  "What do you know?"  For
once, perhaps, the direct approach would work best.     
     
     He regarded her with a level gaze, the thin smile still on
his mouth.  "I know that you have been selling information on
Ranma and his friends to certain people that in hindsight, it was
probably best not to get involved with in the first place."

     "Do you think I had a choice?" Nabiki murmured, staring back
at him.

     He nodded once.  "There is always a choice."
     
     "Yeah," Nabiki said, and laughed ruefully.  "There was
another choice.  Not much of one, but I guess I could have made
it."

     For a moment, she saw a flicker of something in his eyes
that might have been compassion.  "Nabiki Tendo..."

     She changed the subject abruptly.  "How did you know?"
     
     His eyes went hard again.  "The man you report to reports to
my grandfather."

     This time, her laughter was genuine, albeit tinged with
bitterness.  "It all makes sense.  That's why you can afford to
live the way you do.  You're yakuza."

     "No!" Kuno interjected sharply.  "I am not.  The business of
my father's companies are legitimate.  On my mother's side..."

     His face darkened.  "I had not spoken to my grandfather 
willingly until recently."

     "What changed?"
     
     "My sister died," Kuno replied bluntly.  
     
     For a moment, Nabiki could not speak.  "I'm sorry," she
finally managed.  So many more question, but there was no way to
ask them of him.  The fact sunk in, was stored for future
reference, but made no impression at the time.  Too much else to
worry about.

     "Are you truly?" Kuno asked sardonically.  There was a very
vast grief behind his eyes.

     "Yes," Nabiki snapped.  "Do you think I've got no heart at
all?"

     A long silence.
     
     At last, he shook his head.  "You realize what danger you
have put yourself and your family in?"

     "Of course I do," Nabiki whispered.  "Bad enough I'm 
probably going to end up..."

     She trailed away, and fixed her eyes on the ground.  Tears
threatened to blur her vision.  "That's one of the reasons I came 
here," she said after a moment to regain control.  "I thought 
that if you knew about all that, you might know how I could..."

     A sudden hope filled her.  She looked up.  "Yoshiyuki
reports to your grandfather, right?  Can't he..."

     And now Kuno laughed, and such an awful depth of bitterness
echoed in his laugh.  "Were it in his power, he would free you
from whatever debt his organization holds over you.  But it is
not.  He reports to another."

     "Shit," Nabiki said softly, closing her eyes.  The yakuza 
were as bad as the government for bureaucracy.

     Kuno seemed to sense her thoughts somehow.  "Not yakuza.  
Worse."

     Her head snapped up.  "What?"
     
     "You have so many questions, Nabiki Tendo," he said quietly.
"Answer one of mine.  How did you come to be involved with such
as them?  I would think you more intelligent than that."

     "I would have as well, once," Nabiki murmured.  "I'm 
starting to see that I'm not quite as smart as I used to think."
     
     "How?" Kuno prompted.
     
     She paused for a moment in thought, staring at him as she
did, studying the lines of his face and the cast of his eyes.
How much more damage could it really do, she realized finally.
He might even already know.  He might simply want to hear it from 
her mouth.

     "Mom died when I was ten," she began quietly, and was
surprised at how much buried pain the words brought forth.
"Everyone took it hard.  Dad cut back on his teaching, and 
finally stopped altogether.  He tried not to let it show, but I
knew enough about numbers to see that we were in trouble.  He
used to let me look at the bank statements; I guess he didn't
think I could understand them at that age.  We were going through 
our savings really fast.  There was the mortgage to pay off, and 
the hospital bills.  Too many debts, too little money."

     Always too little money.  "When I was twelve, a man came to 
visit dad.  Dad told Kasumi and Akane and me to stay in our
rooms, but I snuck out and listened to them after a while.  The
man was offering to pay off all our debts, but dad was angry at
him, yelled at him, threw him out of the house."

     She drew a shuddering breath.  Kuno was listening in total
silence.  "I didn't understand why.  I heard dad crying in the
kitchen, and I snuck downstairs and went outside to follow the
man.  I caught up with him at the corner, and..."

     She paused and looked at Kuno.  "I think he must have been
your grandfather.  The age would be about right, and..."

     Now that she knew the connection, she was sure.  Kuno's eyes
were like the older man's had been on that day five years ago,
staring down at the girl who'd grabbed onto the sleeve of his
expensive suit at the corner.  The image of the man was still
firmly fixed in her mind after all the years; she compared him to
Kuno, found traces of the same features.  "I told him I'd do 
anything if he gave us the money, but he explained that dad 
didn't want to take money from him."

     She laughed, suddenly, because it was either that she laugh
or start crying.  "I told him I had a plan.  It was such a good
plan; dad never suspected a thing."

     "What was the plan?" Kuno asked.
     
     Again, she laughed.  "He took me out for coffee.  He was so
nice; I didn't even realize what he was.  I made up a rich,
distant relative of my mother's who'd been the middle of three
daughters.  She would die and send me a lot of money in her 
will, because I was the middle child too."

     She shrugged.  "A kid's plan.  He made it work, though.  He
had the resources to do it, to make it all look legit, look real.  
And I gave the money to daddy, and he was so grateful, I 
remember..."

     She remembered her father crying, sweeping her up into a hug 
as she showed him the fake letter and the cheque, and told him
about what she wanted to do with the money.  It had made her feel 
smarter than everyone else, it had made her feel important, even 
though it was Kasumi who cooked all the meals and kept the house, 
even though it was Akane who was learning the Art in the dojo 
whenever their father was willing to teach her.

     "He was really happy," she said.  "God, I was so dumb then.
The man said he'd call me if he ever needed me to do something
for him.  When Ranma showed up, he did.  I understood by then
what I'd done, but a deal's a deal.  And it wasn't like I could
actually refuse.  And they said they would pay me."

     She smiled shakily.  "I guess you know the rest, huh?"
     
     Kuno tapped his fingers idly on the sun-scarred wood of his
bokken and said nothing.

     "What I want to know," she said musingly, "is how they knew
all those years back that Ranma would be showing up."

-Continued in section 3

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