What happens when you let a fanfic run wild? 
Well, you'll find out soon enough.

This is a semi-final revision of parts 1a-1c of
Ryorumonogatari. C&C is absolutely requested,
but the comments have to be detailed. Tell me
what you think.

Part 1d will be out in a couple of hours. Bear with 
me for a while.

Author's notes and disclaimers are at the end of 
the fic.

Nothing in this story happens in chronological. 
Logical order, yes, but not with the chrono up 
front.

SeventhOne

***
Ryuromonogatari part 1 (complete)
(for [BET] ter or for worse)
A crossover
by SeventhOne

***
#0000-000
Heaven (The Betting Area)
Sometime in the past

The man appeared in the darkness, in front of a 
small black cat.

"Penn! How'd you get here?!"

"Those who haven't received invitations are 
often the party crashers. I've come to make a 
Bet, Toltiir."

"No! No way, Penn. Last time you did 
something like that . . ."

The man smiled.

"On January 1, 1979, noon, a single photon flies 
into the fetus of a certain Tendo Nabiki. I change 
the angle at which it hits by 0.00000000000001 
degrees."

The man promptly vanished. Penn does things 
with style. It leaves people a little out of breath. 
Toltiir paused for a whole twenty seconds before 
he reacted.

"OOOHHH SHIT," said the cat.

Don't get me wrong. Toltiir likes trickery. He 
just doesn't like to be at the receiving end of a 
trick.

Tendo Nabiki appeared almost immediately after 
he finished "speaking." These things are timed.

"Lessee, Yggrisll is now owned by Microsoft, a 
sub-division of Mishima Heavy Industries, 
owned by Tendo Enterprises. That's pretty much 
all I want to do this month. Oh, yes, the Bet. 
That's why I'm here."

An oversized sweatdrop appeared at the back of 
Toltiir's head.

"Um, you wouldn't happen to be Tendo Nabiki, 
would you?"

"Yes. I'm here to make a Bet . . ."

***
#0074-986
Unknown
Spring, 1171

Alone in the rain, a child stood before the 
charred ruins of his father's lodge. What tears he 
may have had were washed away, and finally, 
there were no more. 

There would be revenge. The school of Unease 
would perish just as the school of Chang. 

Within the child, something stirred, and when he 
opened his eyes again, there was a glint that 
wasn't there before. 

Behind him, where he couldn't see, a woman 
sighed. 

"A necessary evil. All will come to pass."

***
#0074-942
Shanghai
October 14, 1975

The girl stood on the dock, looking back at the 
city. In her right hand was a ticket, her way out 
of the arranged marriage her uncle had set up for 
her. And there was a question in her mind. Did 
she have the determination to escape? Could she 
shame ancestors? She clutched the amulet 
hanging from her neck, a ornate amulet, 
engraved with a dragon and with a single jewel 
embedded in the center. 

She closed her eyes bit her lip. And then, for a 
single moment, there were two of her, one 
running toward the ship, and the other slowly 
walking back into the city.

The one that uses the ticket will travel abroad, 
and eventually end up in the city of Tokyo. 
Within three years she'll be married, and in two 
more, she'll have a son. In twelve years, she'll 
die in a car accident, and in twenty, her son will
disappear from a plane. 

This story is not hers. This story is the story of 
the other her, the one who returned home. For 
the honor of her ancestors, she sacrificed her 
happiness and married the wealthy merchant her 
uncle wanted to control. And then? The 
merchant moves his business to a smaller village 
in northeastern China, and two years later, the 
mansion burns down. The girl dies. 

Where does the story go from there? Let's
see . . .

***
#0000-000
Unknown
Right Now

THE BOMB HAS BEEN SET.

"I see."

DO YOU WISH TO START THE 
COUNTDOWN?

"Yes."

LET IT BEGIN.

There was a voice in the background, sort of like 
the type you normally hear when you dial the 
wrong number, and you get the automated 
answering service that goes, "Sorry. You've 
dialed the wrong number. In five seconds you 
will be redirected to . . . " and such.

This one was saying five.

"Five."

And there was silence.

***
#0074-942
Long Shen Tzweng
April 23, 1995

Saotome Genma smiled as he looked at the 
amulet in his hands. It wasn't an especially nice 
smile, but wasn't a nasty one either. Rather, it 
was a trademark Genma Saotome smile, which 
was usually associated with things like getting 
free food and stealing scrolls. 

And indeed, this was what he thought he was 
doing. If the rumors were correct, the inscription 
on the amulet was a secret martial arts technique.

"Now if I could only read Chinese . . ."

And then it hit him. The Chinese/Japanese 
dictionary his son had picked up the day before. 
He got up and walked to the other side of the 
camp, where his son was sleeping. He knelt and 
reached over the sleeping bag to get the book. 

Ranma turned in his sleep, knocking his father's 
face aside with a well placed right fist. Genma 
rubbed his face.

"Stupid boy. I'm gonna have to correct 
that sleeping position."

He reached over again, and this time, he got 
kicked in the stomach. The amulet fell. When it 
touched Ranma, everything turned white.

***
#0074-986
Jusenkyo
Spring, 1194

The old man called himself George. It wasn't 
that he knew any English, but it just so happened 
that the pronunciation of the name he'd taken on 
was George. He'd picked it up somewhere on his 
travels, but he'd forgotten exactly where. You 
can pick up a lot of things in five hundred years. 

George hadn't started out wanting to become a 
mystic. It'd all begun with a martial arts training 
trip. He'd just picked up one technique too many. 
The specific technique that made him a mystic 
allowed him to control the structure of every 
single cell in his body, as well as most 
everything outside. 

Heavens, to think that it'd been an accident he'd 
picked it up. Compared to his almost fifty years 
of practice, this one technique had made all that 
effort wasted, it was so powerful. He almost 
hated himself for not finding out about it earlier. 
And then again it was highly unlikely. The 
technique was secret, known only to five people 
other than himself in all the country. The chance 
of anybody picking it up was almost zero. And 
considering the difficulty . . .

He was immortal. He'd made himself immortal 
with years of practice, and he'd slowly been able 
to make his body the way he liked it. By any 
other name, it'd be called shapeshifting, but it 
wasn't really that. Just the growth and 
destruction of body tissue to his will. Presently 
he was in his old-man guise, which had its 
benefits. Normal strength, normal speed, with 
the addition of free food and a place to stay. And 
considering his normal, that is, strong enough to 
destroy a house with a few hits, there wasn't 
much of a disadvantage. He'd stayed in this form 
for most of his life as a mystic, changing back to 
his more natural "young" form only during the 
occasional training trip.

The last century had been . . . interesting. Martial 
arts were being developed to the extreme, and 
there were more martial artists around presently 
than there had been for the past four hundred 
years. Quite a few of those martial artists had 
attained a level of skill that he couldn't beat with 
one arm tied behind his back. That was saying 
quite a lot.

Today, however, marked the beginning of 
something big. Why? The night before, he'd seen 
a dragon fall from the sky. After a little 
investigation, he'd found a girl, lying where one 
of the cursed springs used to be. That is, they'd 
been there the day before, but were currently 
dried up. That wasn't particularly strange, as the 
heat of the "dragon," which he'd determined to 
be no more than a chi specter, would have done 
it. What was strange was that the girl woke up 
from what appeared to be a coma two hours 
later, now. More interesting, the coma was one 
induced under conditions similar to that in which 
he'd first learned the mystic technique. 

Which means? Simply put, the girl, upon waking 
up, became the world's youngest mystic.You 
might be wondering, just what does a coma have 
to do with becoming a mystic? To understand, 
you have to know what a mystic is. A mystic is, 
as said before, a human being who can control 
everything in his body. To become a mystic, a 
person needs to possess this skill, and the skill 
can be learned under the following conditions: 
a)	You're conscious. 
b)	You can't control anything in your body. 

A person under such conditions is basically 
dead, as the vital functions start fading as soon 
as the mind loses control of the body. In order to 
learn the mystic technique, a person has to 
regain all functions by himself, without any help. 

That the girl had done so was indeed a miracle. 
So much a miracle that George could do nothing 
but stare in awe as the boy sat up. And the girl 
spoke.

<"Where,"> asked the girl, <"the fuck am I?">

And George stood at the door gaping. It occurred 
to him momentarily that he'd been five hundred 
years without a student, and that it was about 
time.

At this point the Guide walked in.

"Very tragic. Is the girl still in a coma?"

And then he saw the girl. And George gaping.

"Uh, George, did you just do anything?"

"No, Chen."

"Why's she awake, then?"

"She's just become the world's youngest."

"Youngest? Youngest to do what?"

"To learn the Technique of the Body of Wind 
and Cloud."

"Um, 'scuse me for being blunt, but what's that?"

"The art of the gods."

"Oh."

***
#0074-986
Unknown
Winter, 1186

Somewhere in mountains of China, there's a house, a house of shadows, a
house of ghosts. Nobody lives there. 

In the night, there are the footsteps of sprites, dancing on the
ever-spotless wooden floors; the occasional conversation, where voiceless
words speak meaningless gossip; the wails of a child that was never born. 

And never are there any lights. Never.

If you listen closer, you'll find that everything you thought you heard was
just your imagination.

And then again, maybe not, for this house has a name.

Wu.

***
#0074-986
Di Yu Valley (Hell Pit)
Summer, 1194

A hundred men from a hundred different schools 
gathered in the darkness of the pit, standing in 
file before the young man they called their lord.

They knew their fate, and their fate was death. 
They didn't care. They'd long lost the fear for it, 
and there was nothing to lose. 

The young man began speaking a grave voice, 
grave beyond his years.

"We have prepared five years for this day. Five 
years. Today, the waiting has ended. The 
Harbinger, the heir to the school of Unease, has 
reappeared. This time we will destroy him."

He stopped and looked up at the sky, a thousand 
feet above.

"The Harbinger changes forms as easily as he 
changes names. The only way we can find him is 
to defeat the larger schools in his name. Rumor 
will feed anger, and he will come to us. This is 
your mission. Move out! Spread the word of 
Hell Lodge!"

The men vanished as the fires went out.

***
#0074-986
Space
a point in the past

Two spaceships flew through the endless night. 
For a slight moment, the one in front split into 
two copies of itself, and one of those copies 
promptly vanished. The chase continued, the 
event unnoticed. 

The consequences of this event are, however, 
great. As to how great, suffice to say that the 
event caused the path of the two ships to change 
by 1 second on a three dimensional scale. The 
two ships ended up in a slightly different place 
than that was originally intended. Different by 
almost a thousand miles. 

What would have been a pair of large craters in a 
place eventually acquiring the name of "western 
Honshu," never came into existence. They were 
replaced by a lake about five miles from a valley 
called Jusenkyo.

And at Jusenkyo, a final blow was made, and the 
"corpse" (if it was indeed dead) discarded. Not 
carelessly, though, as one would expect, but, 
meticulously, if slightly improvisational. Both 
body and soul were sealed away in the magical 
pools native to the area, and done in a manner 
that only the sealer and his offspring could 
unseal.. 

And then the one who made the seal made his 
way east . . .

***
#0000-000
Gates of Time
Does it matter when it is?

Setsuna smiled. It wasn't exactly that she was 
happy, more that she was satisfied. Several 
people had appeared in the wrong era, and with 
the implications involved, it could have gotten 
quite complicated. She'd corrected it with just a 
minor bit of meddling, and it was worth a pat on 
the back. Now if she could only find where she'd 
left that popcorn.

***
#0074-986
Shaolin Temple
Fall, 1195

There are monks, and there are monks. This 
specific monk used the Buddhist name Kong 
Hai, and he was presently looking over the 
Shaolin Temple from its uppermost balcony.

Why was he special? Well, had the Shaolin 
Temple been the Vatican, and he a Christian, he 
would technically be the Pope. Since the temple 
wasn't the Vatican, lesser monks called him the 
Administrator and treated him with the 
reverence normally given to wise old men with 
mysterious powers. Of which he was one. And 
since he was the Administrator of Shaolin 
Temple, his "mysterious powers" were the 
deadly arts of the Shaolin school martial arts. 

Presently, his bushy eyebrows furled up into a 
worried look that only wise old men seem to be 
able to make. 

Rumors. Disturbing rumors that he didn't want to 
believe. These were the cause of his worries, and 
if he was worried, the rest of the martial arts 
world had something to worry about too. Why? 
Because he was among the top ten strongest. 

It appeared that two new faces had appeared. 
Both were extremely strong martial artists, and 
both were making themselves a name.

One was a boy, no older than seventeen. He 
called himself Anonymous, and was destroying 
schools and dojos all across the country. What 
was disturbing about him wasn't the fact that he 
destroyed. It was the school the boy claimed to 
be a heir of: Unease. 

This wasn't a well known technique, as it was 
forbidden, but mostly because the last user had 
died in a fight more than sixty years ago, and 
nobody had seen it since. 

Kong Hai remembered, though. He'd fought the 
man. What was scary was that the man had 
eluded his every attack like a ghost. Or a demon. 

The old monk looked at his amputated left arm. 
The man had taken the arm in that fight. The 
weapon was a paper fan, and Kong Hai hadn't 
even noticed the man cutting it off. Then the arm 
had floated off the fan by itself. And attacked 
him. With his techniques.

It'd been a nightmare. When he woke, he'd 
almost believed it had truly been just a 
nightmare, up until the moment he realized that 
his arm was gone. And then he'd screamed for 
two hours straight.

Now there was another user, and by the rate at 
which the schools were being destroyed, the boy 
was just as good a user as the man who'd taken 
Kong Hai's arm.

He shuddered. Unease was back. The horrible 
forbidden technique, the evil . . . 

Kong Hai looked down as the new students went 
about their daily training. The other rumor was 
far more mundane than the one of Unease. It 
appeared that there was a child going by the 
name of Ranma in the northern country. He or 
she -- he couldn't tell from the rumor -- had 
apparently learned a technique called the Body 
of Wind and Cloud. 

Kong Hai had heard of it before. The technique 
had supposedly originated in the mystic realms, 
and was the art of the Gods. Kong Hai refused to 
believe that the mystic realms existed, but he 
knew the technique to be real. Which wasn't 
actually contradictory. The peasants up north had 
a habit of idolizing martial artists into gods.What 
could just be a specialized punching technique 
could be transformed by rumor into the 
equivalent of a demon-god waging battle with 
the forces of good. This rumor didn't surprise 
him. What did surprise him was the fact that it'd 
reached him. The fact that it did meant that there 
was some merit in the story. 

Oh, if the Unease story could be just as 
bogus . . .

***
#0074-986
Jusenkyo Range
Winter, 1195

Yosho felt a presence. That was one of the 
reasons why he was standing in these mountain 
freezing his skin off. The presence was 
disturbing, unlike anything he had felt for over a 
thousand years. He knew it though, and he knew 
it to be Ryouko. How had she woken up? There 
shouldn't have been anyone with Jurainian blood 
on the planet except for himself. Nobody could 
wake her. 

Unless . . . 

He didn't want to think about it. Especially since 
Ryouko now appeared to have integrated royal 
Jurainian DNA into her design. 

Not to mention that her design had become 
around ten times more efficient and powerful. 
Somebody had definitely modified her. As to 
who, he couldn't say.

He leaped from perch at the tip of the mountain 
and flew toward Jusenkyo at full speed. 

When you're flying, you're not supposed to 
follow paths. This was Yosho's first mistake.

***
#0074-942
Somewhere in Siberia
October 20, 1995

<"Can you tell me where Nerima is?">

"What'd you say?"

<"I said, 'Can you tell me where Nerima is?'">

"I can't understand Chinese. You know 
Russian?"

<"I don't. I'm speaking Japanese.">

"Japanese? I can't understand Japanese either."

<"Where am I?">

"This is Siberia."

<"So . . . where's Nerima?">

"You're looking for a place in Japan?"

<"Japan? Yeah.">

"You're about a thousand miles northwest."

<"Thank you.">

Ryouga Hibiki proceeded northwest.

"Poor fool. He's going the opposite direction."

***
#0074-942
Tokyo (Juuban)
June 9, 1986

We've seen this woman before. Yes, it's the same 
one who stood on that dock as a girl. She's a 
woman now, a proud lady, proud of who she is, 
and what she's become. 

Pride runs in the bloodline. The woman didn't 
know it, but once, her ancestors were great 
warriors of the Amazon tribe, and even earlier, 
the daughters of a lost prince, exiled from his 
land by his own choice. 

She smiled at the child.

"Remember, Duty creates Destiny."

***
#0074-986
Capital, China
Fall, 1195

Wu Ming Tse sat at a table in a street-side 
noodle stand. To say the least, he was bored. 
Very bored. So bored that he couldn't think of 
anything to do except to have lunch, and he'd 
already done that several hours ago. 

This was happening more frequently in the 
recent few years. 

"Seventeen years, and I'm already bored with 
life. God," he said in a rather loud voice.

The people sitting at the tables around him 
looked at him strangely then went back to eating 
and talking. Ming looked around. 

"What are they looking at?"

He turned his attention back to the bowl of 
noodles in front of him. Five dojos yesterday, 
and there weren't any more in the area. He'd 
have to move north. With both hands, he picked 
up the bowl and dumped the contents into his 
mouth. He put it back down on the table with a 
loud thump. 

"A tad bit rude, aren't you, Wu?" said a woman. 

Ming looked up. A green haired woman in 
strange garb had appeared in the chair across the 
table from him.

"Who the heck are you? Why do you know my 
name?" he asked.

"My name isn't important as of right now. As to 
how I know these things, all I can say is that I 'm 
the Lady of the Lord Death, the Mistress of 
Time. I have a job for you." The woman smiled 
a bit.

"I'm going north. I won't do any job that requires 
me to go anywhere else."

"Oh, don't worry. The job is conveniently at 
place along your path."

"How much money are you willing to pay me?" 
he asked.

"The payment to you will be far more valuable 
than any money. The payment is the guarantee 
that you'll never be bored."

"How can you do that?"

"I have my ways." Setsuna smiled. Soon. Soon.

***
#0000-000
Unknown
Right Now

"Four."

Silence.

ARE YOU REALLY SURE THIS IS A GOOD 
IDEA, SIR?

"Don't be picky. This is the best we can do to 
repay the debt."

I UNDERSTAND.

***
#0074-986
Joketsuzoku Village
Winter, 1195

Kong Hai sat in front of the full council. He was 
sweating uncomfortably, not so much due to the 
heat of the room than the fact that he didn't like 
to talk to the dried up old matriarchs of the 
Amazons. 

The list of the top ten strongest martial artists 
didn't include these old women, but had they, he 
wouldn't even be on the list. It was good that the 
Amazon society was so self-centered, closed to 
the outside world.

"What brings you here, Administrator?"

"Um, I came to ask your help, elders."

"I see. Why do you ask?"

"A user of the Unease technique has appeared. I 
ask you to help us defeat him before he destroys 
the six schools."

"What does he have against you?"

"As of now, several of the branch schools have 
fallen victim to his dark arts. We believe that if 
we do not stop him, he will eventually attack the 
main school. As a user of unease, he will do 
anything to destroy us, and he might have help 
from the Sun-Moon Sect, as their goals are the 
same."

"And what is he doing currently?"

"To the south, over a hundred schools have been 
destroyed."

There was a commotion amongst them as they 
considered the information.

"And you say this has been done by a single 
man?"

"Yes."

The elders appeared to give it some thought. 

"We ask you to stay at the village for the night. 
Our decision will be announced tomorrow 
morning," she said.

Kong Hai sighed. It was going to be a long 
night.

***
#0074-986
Jusenkyo Range
Winter, 1195

Yosho stopped flying and landed on the pass. 
This was impossible. He knew his way through 
the mountains perfectly well, and now, for some 
reason beyond his comprehension, he was lost. 

It wasn't that far beyond his comprehension, 
though. He'd noticed that there was some sort of 
incantation over the range. It hadn't been there 
when he'd last visited, but he didn't think it 
would get in his way. He'd seriously 
underestimated it. 

He thought about it for a moment, then realized 
that if the spell was just over the mountain 
range, he could get past it if he flew high 
enough. 

He launched off the ground and into the air 
again. After a few seconds, he looked down. 
High enough. Jusenkyo was where he had 
expected. He began flying toward the valley. 

The second mistake.

***
#0074-988
Tokyo-3
October 12, 2015

"He . . . mustn't."

Rei turned slowly, ignoring the pains of the 
injury, and reached for the switch that would 
initiate the self-destruct sequence. She would 
protect him. The Angel wouldn't be allowed to 
attack Shinji.

Inside the launch center, the techs stood, 
watching in silent horror as the purple mech 
began stirring.

"WHAT IS SHINJI DOING?"

The UNIT-01 broke from its restraints, 
approaching the elevator platform even as the 
the command center began attempting to 
disconnect it. It attached itself to the lift and 
launched toward the surface.

"Hang on, Rei," said Shinji from within.

In her plug, Rei managed a painful smile.

"This is my mind and soul," said Rei, shuddering 
with each breathe, barely succeeding in ignoring 
the pain of the contamination. "To become one 
with Ikari."

"Rei! Abandon UNIT-00!" Misato yelled 
through the com. 

The elevator platform hit the surface, and 
immediately, the Angel noticed, re-coordinating 
its path of attack. With one end still buried into 
UNIT-00, it rammed its other end into UNIT-01.

In her entry plug, Rei looked up. She could feel 
him. He was there, for her, across the battlefield, 
So close, yet so far away. 

There was a flash of light.

Maya stared frantically at the data she was 
receiving.

"The synch rates have shot up to 200%!" she 
yelled to Ritsuko.

"Give me the contamination!"

"80! . . . 90! 95! 100%!"

The rest of the command center stared at the 
main display as the angel suddenly ceased to 
exist. The two EVAs fell to the ground.

"The status of the Second Child is currently lost. 
The synch rate for the First Child has dropped to 
97%."

***
#0074-014
Taipei 
July 7, 1998

It began on a Tuesday. Not an especially 
important Tuesday, either. It was somewhat 
pleasant, or rather, it started out somewhat 
pleasant. Compared to the previous few Tuesday, 
it was an improvement, as it didn't start out with 
the mind-shattering hangover I usually got from 
drinking too much on Monday night. This was 
mainly because I had plans for today, and those 
plans didn't include trying to get over hangovers. 
I hadn't drunk on Monday night, and I was rather 
thankful come seven o'clock.

Yes, seven o'clock. I don't usually get up early, 
but I'd set my alarm clock yesterday. Why? 
Because I had a plan, and today was a big day. 

As said previously, the Tuesday wasn't 
especially important, but its significance in my 
plans were enormous, and I'd spent over two 
months preparing for it. No point in ruining the 
preparation now, eh? 

You must be wondering by now, just what does 
this idiot have planned? I'd tell you, but you'd 
have to apologize for calling me an idiot first. 
Haha. Okay, no more jokes. I'd been preparing 
for my first self-insert. You heard right. Self-
insert. The scientifically impossible act of 
putting oneself inside of a popular series. In my 
case, it was anime, and yes, I believed that I'd 
found a way to do it.

Let me tell you a few things about myself before 
we begin. My name is Yang Chung-chi. My 
friends call me Chung, and that's the way I like 
it. I'm twenty-three, single, and I live in Taiwan. 
I'm just out of college, and I teach English at a 
local cram-school to pay the rent and buy anime. 
Despite the fact that my Mom's Japanese, I have 
a very limited grasp of the language, and I'm 
hoping to improve when I go visit my 
grandmother in Tokyo next year. 

But none of that is very important to this story. 
Well, actually, my grasp of the language is, but 
you'll see that for yourselves later. All you have 
to know right now is that half the time my 
family doesn't know what the heck I do for a 
living. That's very important to this story, very 
important to my plan. Why? You'll see.

I first came up with the idea half a year ago. I 
came up with it in a conversation with a friend. 
He was telling me about how the otaku-fics that 
were becoming so popular were sort of like 
dreams. 

When I heard that statement, I sort of did the 
imaginary light-bulb thing, and the idea was 
there. What if I could have a dream that was an 
anime? 

You've heard the theory, right? Everything we 
see, hear, taste, smell, and touch is recorded in 
our memories. As time goes on, however, the 
brain isolates the old storage cells, breaking the 
links and making new ones to unused cells. I've 
heard people say over and over how humans 
don't use over one fourth of all the cells in a 
lifetime. (Dunno if all that's actually true. It 
couldn't be a myth, could it?) This is where I 
started. Theoretically, all of the anime I've ever 
watched is recorded somewhere in my brain. 
The links might have withered away somewhat 
since I last used them, but I could redevelop 
those links and strengthen them considerably. 
And then I could access them. Presto, an anime 
dream. And how would I access those 
memories? Self-hypnotism. 

Of course, there I was thinking up all these crazy 
ideas and my buddies were looking at me kinda 
strange. I decided to quit and I took a slug of 
beer. I woke up the next morning worrying about 
schoolwork, and I never got around to my plan. 

That is, until two months ago. A buddy of mine 
is a psych major, and I got him to give me 
classes on self-hypnotism. To tell the truth, it 
was quite easy. In two weeks, I got control over 
what I dreamed every night, and when I 
dreamed. A dream come true, if you excuse my 
pun. Of course, I still didn't have much control 
over what happened in the dream. I could choose 
when to wake up, but overall, that was it. All I 
had to do was get into a sleep-like trance, lie 
down, and hey! There I was in an anime world. 

I didn't use the technique too often. I wanted to 
save it for the summer, when I could have more 
time to dream. I can tell you from personal 
experience that time passes slower in a dream 
than real life. An hour in a dream may amount to 
somewhere around thirty minutes in real life. 
Meaning that I could spend a three month break 
in one and a half months. A vacation inside my 
mind. 

I got a friend to fake the records for the car 
accident. Another one ensured that my relatives 
wouldn't find out. Tuesday morning, walk into 
the hospital. I'm in a coma. That easy. 

It still took two months.

Let's see. Notebook, check. Pen, check. Air-con, 
check. Bed, check. Computer, check. Popcorn, 
check. Popcorn? Where'd that - oh. Oh, well. 
Okay, all things set. When I say the word Tulip, 
I'm - aaalllshit . . . 

***
#0000-000
Destiny's Garden
A few years later

There are many versions of the god of Destiny. 
Some, or in fact, many, choose to be called Fate, 
and it's found that, more often than not, the ones 
that call themselves Fate are not one, but three, 
and most of the "threes" happen to be female. 
There are more than a few of these types in the 
world. There are lots of them, and all of them 
coexist. 

Theologically, this might be interpreted to mean 
that there are multiple fates for every one person, 
but this isn't true. See, these gods don't affect 
humans as fates. That's not to say that they aren't 
powerful; they are, for if they weren't, they 
wouldn't be called gods. It's just that gods are the 
products of belief, and it's from those beliefs that 
they draw their power. These so-called gods of 
Fate are indeed gods of Fate, but they can't affect 
fate or destiny, as they themselves are bound by 
it. 

There is one being, however, that does affect 
fate. He goes by the name of Destiny, Destiny of 
the Endless, and for the most part, he created 
those "gods of Fate." 

How'd he do that? Simple. He told stories. And 
people believed. This is how all gods are 
created. Try making one yourself. You know, 
homemade gods. The mass-produced ones, like 
Y*** or I**** usually don't work very much, 
and you won't find many good ones in the 
supermarket, so this is the best alternative. 
Unless you happen to know an existing god 
personally. This is highly unlikely. 

The reason? Well, there are lots of gods out 
there, and every now and then those gods go 
through the "Reconfiguration," which essentially 
makes them into another person with another 
name. Whole pantheons modify themselves to fit 
the flow of the times (which doesn't need to be 
constant when you're talking about gods). Not to 
mention that there are different versions of the 
same gods and gods that are seemingly the same 
but have different origins altogether. Then you 
have the replacements and clones, and often you 
find a duplicate or two. It's almost impossible to 
track down the right god, even less talk to the 
same one twice. 

Unless there's a coincidence. And there's never a 
coincidence. There's the Ultimate Force. His 
name, as it happens, is Destiny. 

Some people get it wrong. God does not make 
everything in the world happen. He knows all 
and is everywhere, but he does nothing. His 
second eldest bunch of children handle all that. 

Why the second? Well . . . to put it simply, the 
first bunch consists mainly of Angels (only the 
Archangels, though. The rest of the motley crew 
came later), and Angels are . . . not quite up to it. 
That meant he'd needed to create something else 
to govern his third and most beloved bunch of 
children. That's where the second came in. The 
Endless: Death, Destiny, Destruction, Desire, 
Despair, Dream, and Delirium (or Delight as she 
used to be called). A rather dysfunctional family 
when you think about it. And don't try to think 
about it. Brain hemorrhoids are common this 
time of the year. 

One of the family's more dysfunctional members 
was now wandering in his garden maze, wearing 
a robe and carrying a thick tome. He had the 
appearance of a monk, and he acted his part, 
silent as he walked down a path he would never 
reach the end of? Unusual? No. He doesn't talk 
much. Oh, you mean the path. That's not unusual 
either. He is, after all, Destiny, and this is his 
garden. A garden of mazes, choices to be made. 
The size of the garden is near infinite, and there 
are the same number of people wandering in it as 
it is big. Their paths are more crooked than 
Destiny's, though. Destiny doesn't have a destiny 
of his own. He just has a straight path. 

"Nice day for a walk in the garden, eh?" said a 
voice from behind him. 

He didn't turn to look who it was.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Just checking up on an interesting timeline."

"Which one?"

"It was the result of a butterfly effect from my 
original bet. Toltiir didn't like it very much, so he 
tried to destroy it, but it didn't work quite in the 
manner he expected," the man replied, chuckling 
a bit.

"What was the original bet?"

"Nothing much. I'm sure I wrote it down 
somewhere in that book of yours. You can check 
it up if you want."

"I cannot flip the page until the time comes," 
said Destiny.

"Oh? Oh, well. It was worth a try. The 
effects of my bet will eventually affect this 
world as well, so you better be prepared for it 
when it comes. Saotome Ranma has an 
interesting life ahead of him."

Destiny gasped as the man disappeared.

"Did he say . . . Saotome . . . Ranma?"

***
#0000-000
Unknown
Right Now

"Three."

***
#0074-986
Jusenkyo
Winter, 1195

George sat on the tree stump, looking up at the 
mountain range. They weren't especially 
interesting. He was looking at them because 
they'd changed so much in the past year. 

Volcanic activity wasn't very common in these 
parts, and for the mountain range to have 
changed so much in so little time was, to say the 
least, unnatural. He knew the reason, though. 
They'd been "practice partners" to the greatest 
known martial artist in the history of humanity.

George shuddered a bit, wondering what his fate 
might have been if he'd agreed to Ranko's little 
proposal last year. He took a moment to imagine 
SD George getting his limbs bent into interesting 
positions and shuddered again. Not good. 

He mentally compared the more notable martial 
artists he'd personally met with Ranko. A whole 
lot of them had superior strength and superior 
stamina, but the skills didn't even come close to 
matching Ranko's. The girl was simply too good.

Boy, he corrected himself. Ranko was a boy. 
Had to remember that. He remembered what 
happened to the visiting Musk lord last month 
when he'd asked for her hand in marriage. The 
poor boy had barely missed getting some vital 
organs severed from his body. Eww.

Chen had assured him that Ranko's claim of 
having been a boy was probably true. After all, 
this was Jusenkyo, and with the apparent 
education in martial arts Ranko had possessed, 
the idea was believable. Amazonian origin was 
unlikely, given the population of the village and 
their restrictive laws, it was hard to believe 
otherwise.

It'd be slightly more believable if she changed 
back with hot water, though. 

He'd asked Chen about it. Chen was just as 
confused. None of the curses caused irreversible 
change, and supposedly, this one was just like 
every other. Not that any other spring was called 
"sealed spring." Chen didn't know what a victim 
was supposed to turn into after falling into the 
spring, just that very few people had, and none 
of those people had changed. Ranko was the first 
to have been effected, and the change was 
similar to the one caused by the Spring of the 
Drowned Girl. Was that supposed to imply 
anything? George hadn't a clue.

He looked at his student. Blue hair, bound back 
in a pigtail. She was probably Japanese, as it was 
the only language she'd originally been familiar 
with. A day after he'd initially found her, she 
began speaking Chinese. Fluently too. She said 
that she just picked up things faster than most 
people, but George didn't exactly believe her. It 
didn't matter whether or not she'd learned the 
mystic technique, to be able to learn the separate 
meanings of five thousand different characters in 
a single day was ridiculous. Yes, she could read 
and write as well. He'd tested her himself. 

Then again, it was a relief she could speak 
Chinese. He wasn't quite fluent in Japanese as he 
wanted to be, horrid language. The verbs and the 
nouns were all mixed up, and there were all 
those little noun modifications you had to add to 
the ends of names in order to get it straight. The 
only one he'd learned was "-san" and that was 
useful enough in everyday speech, but any more 
than that, and he was lost. What the heck did "-
sama" mean, anyway? 

He turned to watch Ranko do another one of her 
chi-manipulations. She was quite a nice girl, 
actually, discounting her little problem with 
gender. She claimed to have been a boy, but 
seemed to accept her "new" body well enough. 
Almost as if she'd been a girl all along . . .

Which meant something along the lines of "she's 
using Jusenkyo as an excuse to suppress her real 
sex in favor of her sexual desires." She was a 
lesbian. She just didn't want to admit it. 

It was only a theory, though. Ranko had told him 
close to nothing of her past, just that'd she'd been 
a martial artist, and that she'd been somewhat a 
criminal. Apparently her mind was in some state 
of turmoil, but from what he didn't know, and he 
wasn't sure he wanted to know. To top that, 
nothing told him the answer to his greatest 
question: How did she end up here? 

He sighed. Such a mystery. 

He turned his thoughts back to the girl's training. 
It was coming along well, and if he'd had the 
credit of being her teacher, he would've been 
proud. But no. Most of the skill she had, she'd 
possessed since she woke up. It was pure natural 
talent, and since she'd awoken, she'd developed 
it. Chi manipulation was as easy to her as 
breathing, and considering that breathing was in 
many ways similar to Chi manipulation, he 
wouldn't have been surprised of she did it with 
each breath. A little more effort, and she'd been 
able to summon the equivalent of a meteor 
shower out of thin air. What would even more 
effort yield?

He looked at the mock fireworks that were going 
on above his head. Levitation, phasing, and 
teleportation. Chi manipulation powerful enough 
to move mountains. Over a year ago, he would 
have thought most of these impossible, but he'd 
been proven wrong. Well, not levitation. 
Levitation was simple, the easiest of all chi 
manipulation except making it visible. The 
others, though . . .

The girl had no more chi than any other person. 
Well, actually, she did have a little more, but less 
than most chi-kung masters he knew. Much less. 
Which was why her manipulation of chi was so 
remarkable: to manipulate chi from outside of 
the body was highly difficult, and the amount 
she was swinging around was around ten times 
the amount an accomplished chi-kung master 
could using their total potential, internal and 
external. She was just using external.

What was even more scary was that she knew 
the physics associated as well as she knew own 
body. She hadn't changed the mountain range. 
They changed by *themselves* under a chi 
*incantation.* A *magic spell.* 

Magic hadn't existed until Ranko came along. 

George knew that it was for the better, though. It 
was now impossible for an outsider to enter 
Jusenkyo valley by a mountain path; the paths 
redirected themselves whenever somebody 
entered Jusenkyo range. Ranko had made a 
tunnel underneath the mountain so that Chen 
could get back to his village without having to 
climb. It was the only entrance, and the only 
exit. As it was protected by Ranko's spell, the 
tunnel couldn't collapse and couldn't be hidden. 
At the other end was the village, and if anybody 
wanted to get into the valley, they couldn't do it 
without having to pass through the village first, 
and that meant authorization. This reduced the 
cursed population by a lot.

Pheonix mountain had exclusive rights to 
Jusenkyo, as did the Musk, but other than these 
two tribes, Jusenkyo had very little publicity. 
Most cursings were accidental, and if this factor 
could be deleted, there wouldn't be any more 
"tragic" stories. 

George stiffened. He blinked, and blinked again. 
He stood up and looked where Ranko was. She 
too had noticed it, and she was standing in mid-
air, doing nothing but staring south. George used 
the teleportation trick he'd picked up from 
Ranko and flashed into existence at the other end 
of the Jusenkyo tunnel, then looked down into 
the little valley that led up to the tunnel.

What met him there appalled him. Rows of 
warriors had lined up against the mountain wall, 
all bearing the uniforms of the different 
schools. Ranko emerged from the tunnel, a look 
of shock frozen on to her face.

"What . . . why are all these people here?" she 
asked George.

"I don't know."

The sound of someone eating popcorn caught 
George's attention, and he turned. George didn't 
know what popcorn was, but that's beside the 
point right now. From George's point of view, 
there was now a young man sitting on a rock 
behind him, where there hadn't been anyone 
before. To some interest George noted that he 
was wearing outlandish garb and that he didn't 
look to be the martial arts type. The only 
conclusion he could reach was that the boy had 
been brought there.

There is something known as the Archetypal 
Weenie (AW tm). That's what the boy looked 
like.

"And who might you be?" asked George.

The boy looked around for a moment, then 
looked at George. 

"Who me?"

"Yes."

"Uh, I dunno. I think I'm supposed to be 
somewhere else."

"And where might that be?"

The boy held tight to his package of popcorn, 
sweating hard.

"Uh . . . could you, sort of like . . . uh . . . not . . . 
notice me?"

George sighed and decided to just ignore the 
poor fellow.

You know who he is, right? He's a Legendary 
Self-Insert Character (LSIC tm), and he's here to 
wreck havoc on innocent anime timelines. 
Unlike most LSIC's, he's not the Main Character, 
and therefore he doesn't have Invincible Main 
Character Protection (IMCP tm), which makes 
his powers considerably smaller. Because he's an 
Archetypal Weenie (AW tm), he's technically 
reduced to an average human. No, average 
humans are not trademarked, but if you're going 
to trademark them, you'll have to go to the Big 
Man Upstairs. 

There are two general types of self-insertions. 
The first type is commonly known as the "In the 
End there can only be One" type. The character 
becomes the strongest character in the specific 
reality that he goes into. This type is rather 
common. So common that it sometimes leads to 
hybrid types. You know. Ones in which they 
become second class gods and youmas. Nothing 
too earth-shattering. 

The other type of self-insert is known as 
"Godzilla versus Bambi" type. The lives of the 
characters are ugly, brutish, and short. They do 
have the annoying habit of coming back to life, 
though.

Neither fit into the category of the average 
human. The average human is just so . . . uh, 
average.

That can't be said of the other people in front of 
the tunnel.

Not just a few of them were ridiculously 
overmuscled. The artist of "The Fist of the North 
Star" would have been overjoyed with the 
number of potential models available in the 
crowd. And enough fat for a sumo wrestling 
school to last for a generation or two. Not 
exaggerating. The tall ones were invariably slit-
eyed cut-throats, and quite a few of them were 
assassins. 

Of course, there were "normal people" in the 
crowd, but judging by the way they carried 
themselves, they were probably the most skilled 
of the martial artists. Either that, or apprentices. 
It's a well known fact that the word "apprentice" 
is derived from the ancient Sumarian word for 
"sacrifice." Oh, it isn't? Well, it is now.

These people didn't look like they were having a 
nice day. In fact, they looked as if they'd been 
dragged out of bed by someone they couldn't 
beat up and forced to stand here. The truth 
probably wasn't far off, but if you'd asked them, 
they'd respond by giving you a nice, meaty 
knuckle sandwich. You wouldn't be able forget 
the taste anytime soon. 

Thoughts like these were now passing through 
Chung's head at an alarming rate. He was doing 
his best to assure himself that this was all really 
a dream and that he couldn't possibly get hurt in 
a dream. After pinching himself several times, 
he decided that it would be a good idea to shrivel 
up and die. 

Now, what went wrong with this self-insert? You 
know? I'll tell you. Chung read the wrong theory. 
The correct theory goes like this: There are an 
infinite number of alternate universes. When 
a writer writes a piece of fiction, he's actually 
using his brain to tap into the universe that he's 
writing about. Of course, he thinks that he's 
controlling the plot, but in reality, it's the plot 
that controls him. It's the same thing with 
dreams (though this really isn't a dream). When 
Solomon said, "There's nothing new under the 
sun," he meant it. 

Chung, by using the hypnotic method, induced a 
short trip into an alternate universe. He's there in 
flesh, but if he dies there, he just wakes up. He 
can still wake up whenever he wants to, but it's 
just one of the many methods. One of the least 
painful too.

The men in the crowd eyed him, as if hungering 
for someone to pick on. Chung wiped a few 
beads of cold sweat off his forehead. 

This was going to be a long day.

***
#0000-000
Heaven (The Betting Area)
A point in time

Imagine, if you will, a mathematical space, with 
a ray through it. Call this ray the timeline of the 
original reality, the only one that was initially 
created. Then imagine that at every point in the 
ray, an infinite number of other rays shoot 
forward at every angle possible, each one 
intersecting with a point on the hemisphere 
perpendicular to the original ray, facing opposite 
the direction of the origin of the original ray. For 
every point on every one of the rays that result, 
repeat the infinite number of shoot-offs. When 
you're done, you should have an entirely black 
space.

Complicated? This is one of the models used to 
represent the number of possible universes that 
can exist, given a single origin. Of course, all 
universes view themselves as the original one. 
This can't be helped. Origination is relative.

Most gods aren't aware of it. Not that they care. 
The concept that "this universe ain't big enough 
for the both of us" doesn't exist. The universe is 
too big for its own good. 

Where does the Bet fit into this? The answer? It 
doesn't. The Bets happen in pocket universes 
created by Toltiir. They aren't supposed to effect 
the real world.

What Toltiir didn't realize though, was that 
among the many little pocket universes that were 
growing in the Betting area, one was a fake. 
Why? Because it was actually real. 

Unnoticed, little changes were being made, and 
most of them went to making universes like the 
one Penn had. The real one. They spread, like a 
virus, slowly increasing the number of "duds," 
and eating away at the others. 

Of course, it didn't look like that.

"A little change here," said Onixstupin.

Toltiir looked at the god. A rather obscure one at 
that. This one appeared to be made entirely from 
topsoil, and it had just wasted a perfectly good 
bet to change the path of a lightening bolt. What 
could possibly result from that?

***
#0074-942
Tokyo (Shiboyu)
October 21, 1995

Ryouga sighed. It could've been worse. The 
man's directions could have been wrong. At least 
he was in Japan.

"Now how the heck do I get to Nerima?"

The man in the booth looked up from his 
newspaper.

"You lost boy?"

"Yes!"

"Have you ever tried using the train?"

"The train?"

"Yeah. The JR's around the corner. You take that, 
get to Shinjuku and switch to subway. Poof. 
Nerima. Any questions?"

"They have trains?"

"Uh, kinda hard to notice, you know?"

"Thanks!"

Ryouga ran off toward the subway.

"Poor idiot. I told him to take the JR."

***
#0074-942
Grand Central Station, New York
October 22, 1995

Ryouga looked around at the foreigners. 

"I didn't know Tokyo had that many tourists this 
time of the year."

***
#0000-000
Unknown
Right Now

"Two."

***
#0074-986
Di Yu Valley (Hell Pit)
Fall, 1195

"The six schools have discovered him, lord. Or 
rather, they've discovered our actions and think 
we're him."

"I was told that you finally located him. Where 
is he?"

"From what we gather, he's moving north, 
toward the Jusenkyo range. We don't know why 
he's going there, just that he is and that the six 
schools know."

"I see. Make sure our actions are in the vicinity 
of his travels, so that the six schools will know 
where he is."

"Lord, do you plan on using them?"

"Yes. The original plans have failed to catch his 
attention, and now that we know where he is, we 
launch our attack."

"Yes, sir."

The man vanished. Chang smiled.

***
#0074-942
Bermuda
October 25, 1995

"You won't believe what I just saw, Juan."

"What?"

"Some Chinese tourist kid was asking for 
directions."

"So?"

"He disappeared in a flash of lightening!"

"Yeah, like last time with the ghost ship, right? 
Oh, shuddup. I ain't believing you."

"The Flying Dutchman is world-famous."

"Yeah. And so am I."

"What'd you do?"

Juan face-faulted.

***
#0074-986
Kwang Ming Peak (Peak of Light)
The headquarters of the Sun Moon Sect
Late Fall, 1195

"What?" asked the old man, "The six schools 
have gathered? Where is this?"

"A little village called Jusenkyo, lord."

"Why wasn't I told of this?"

"We just got the news today."

The old man stroked beard for a moment.

"Who are they fighting?"

"Our sources say that the enemy is one man, the 
heir to the school of Unease."

"Unease? I see. They're finally back."

"Lord?"

"Give the orders. All the men are to meet at 
Jusenkyo."

"But . . . Lord, that's under the protection of the 
Amazons! We can't go there."

"The Amazons are a minority. Their powers may 
be great, but they aren't backed by numbers. If I 
remember correctly, there are less than a 
thousand of them."

"I understand, Lord."

***
#0000-000
Heaven (the Betting Area)
Sometime in the future

A bleak plain. Yes, your average ominous 
landscape, and it isn't all that interesting. What is 
interesting is the fact that there aren't any 
archetypal weird sisters stirring a pot. All that 
can be seen is a short humanoid-like creature 
with a BIG head and large white eyes. He stared 
into a sort of pond, a stump with all sorts of 
colors flashing on its surface.

"I am the watcher. Me and my kind have 
overseen countless dimensions for time 
unknown. We have watched countless 
civilizations rise and fall. We have seen . . . " 

A stray knee suddenly decked him into the 
ground.

"You really need to work on your opening line 
George!" says the man, grinning.

"I'm not George!" yelled the creature, "I'm the 
Watcher!"

The man just shrugged and ignored the dwarfish 
alien. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." The man noticed the 
pond. "What are ya lookin at, George?"

The creature growlerd a bit before deciding to 
answer.

"Right now I'm overseeing a dimensional 
merge."

He pointed to the pond where the colors stopped 
flashing and two distinct patterns of stars started 
to move in on each other.

"That's interesting . . ."

The man looked around the base of the stump 
and saw some pebbles. He bent down and picked 
one up, eyeing it curiously. 

"Hey, what are these pebbles doing here?

The Watcher turned to the man.

"Oh those? these were just something that some 
deities were playing with awhile back. Seems 
that they were having some kind of Bet going 
on . . . "

"Oh, really?"

The man started tossing a pebble up and
down, only to have it land in the pond after a 
couple of tosses. The pebble landed with a
splash, small droplets rising from where the 
pebble was and landing, making dozens of 
ripples across the pond surface.

"Oops," the man grinned sheepishly.

"Do you know what you just did!?!"

"Um . . . did I just seriously disturb a 
Dimensional merging by throwing a outside 
body created by deities into a crucial nexus, 
thereby making countless changes into the new 
universes timeline?"

The Watcher was slightly shocked, and remained 
speechless for a moment. 

"Uh . . . yes, thats exactly right."

"Cool!"

The Watcher just sighed and continued looking 
into the pond, tracking the damage.


***
#0074-965
Okayama Prefecture
July 26, 1978

It was a quiet town. Clean air, fresh water, and 
kind citizens. What more could anyone ask? 
Trees? Oh yes. The trees. How could I forget 
them? Most of the trees in this town have a long 
history behind them, a lot of them older than a 
thousand years. They're giant compared to the 
people who'd walk past them every day, and 
they're much more patient.

The trees in this town aren't like most. Most 
trees sit dumbly, anticipating the next bit of 
nutrient they can absorb. These don't. These 
trees listen, and they do so in silence, observing 
the people. They listen to quarrels, those of 
lovers afraid to admit their love to each other; to 
cries, the cries of old couples, grieving over the 
deaths of their friends; to laughs, the laughs of 
children, joyful in their games; most often of all 
to talk, the lives of the people. What were they 
listening to today?

Calm? Tranquility?

"Stop, you perverts!"

Then again, maybe not. A little old man and his 
two students were being chased by a bunch of 
angry women, most of them holding some sort 
of sharp item. While the two students didn't look 
very happy about the entire affair, the old man 
was literally jumping with ecstasy, constantly 
repeating what could have been mistaken for a 
mating call ("What-a-hual! What-a-haul!"). 

And then he made a mistake. He should have 
avoided jumping into the bokken. 

"Thank you, Masaki-san!" yelled one of the 
women from the crowd.

"My pleasure," replied the priest. He turned to 
Genma and Soun, who were bowing to him in 
awe. "Hmm. Happosai's students. If I may ask, 
would you two care to study with me? It's been 
quite lonely since my daughter left."

In unison, the two men said the word. It was 
colored with a grate deal of relief, and an extra-
large dose of you're-our-god-liness.

"YES!"

***
#0074-986
Jusenkyo Village
Winter, 1195
(night)

Most of the men at the gathering weren't totally 
aware of the reason behind it. They were there 
for their own reasons, and most involved some 
sort of honor. Others were there because they'd 
heard of a battle and wanted to make a name for 
themselves. Of course, they thought that their's 
was the good side, but they didn't know who 
their enemies were.

The normal baddies, the Sun Moon Sect, had 
been quiet for a long while, and it was 
immediately assumed by those in the gathering 
that these were the ones that would be attacking. 
As for why an organization as big as the Sun 
Moon Sect would be attacking a small village in 
the middle of nowhere, no one knew. It could've 
been an old grudge, but the Sun Moon Sect 
wouldn't hold a grudge against some little 
village, much less use a force strong enough to 
require the appearance of the elders in all the six 
schools.

The men waited, some solemnly silent, as if 
waiting for their own death sentence, others 
impatiently, wanting the blood. There were those 
who took the time to make a few friends and 
chat. There were a lot of these. Needless to say, 
there was a lot of talking. None noticed the 
figures lurking in the shadows of the men.

At the appearance of the elders, the silence 
began to spread. When it was completely silent, 
Kong Hai stepped forward, before the bonfire.

"It has come to the attention of the six schools 
that in the past year, over a hundred smaller 
schools have been destroyed by the man known 
only as Wu Ming Tse. Nothing is known of him 
except that he is the heir of the school of 
Unease."

One man spoke up.

"You mean we've gathered to fight a single man, 
and that his name is Anonymous? You've got to 
be kidding."

The was a bit of laughter in the crowd, until 
most of them realized just who it was they were 
laughing at. The thought stopped most of them 
in their tracks. The rest was done by the Amazon 
elder who spoke next.

"This is no laughing matter, young ones. The 
school of Unease is powerful beyond belief. Had 
they been any less than the demons we believe 
them to be, there would've been a survivor 
among the schools destroyed to tell you of the 
terror. I advise you take it seriously, or you shall 
face a bloody death."

The elders of the six schools gave their silent 
agreement.

***
Notes:
(you won't be seeing this again)

The author is subject to semi-violent mood 
swings, so the story's never really serious, and 
never really sad. Then again, it's never really 
WAFFy either.

Everything except the idea belongs to someone 
else. If you think you see a story idea that looks 
familiar, it's probably yours. It's not your 
imagination. I give you full credit for what 
you've done, but since I'm not very good with 
names, I'll only list the ones I remember.

[the Bet] 
By MetroAnime

a very crazy idea. 
By Ryo Hibiki

Various titles from James Lee and Long Ngo.

R&T: TF?
I think this one's by TH Tiger

Quantum Destinies
By JuraiKnight ??

If you want to add your name to the list, mail 
me. If you don't care, then don't. If you want to 
flame me for using your idea, you're very 
welcome, but tell me exactly why you feel the 
way you do. Otherwise I file it into the round 
folder. This is supposed to be a friendly 
community, eh?

This story was created for amusement, so don't 
sue me.

***
If this story sucks, it's because nobody's ever 
bothered to tell me just WHERE it sucks. Please 
people, help me a little. I really need it.

Co-authoring offers are still up. It's the same 
with my other fanfics. Tell me if you can help. 
Thanks.

C&C humbly begged for. Questions, comments, 
flames, and MSTs welcome. Please send all 
messages to:
nanashi96@hotmail.com