Hi all, :)

It's been a while, but here it is.  For those of you who haven't already
read the rough draft of this on my web page, I'll tell you right now,
it's not the end, yadda yadda yadda.  But then, what else is new,
right?  ^_^;

For those of you who will no doubt want to strangle me at the end of
this chapter, you should know I'm already 30K into Part 22, which,
unlike Part 21, is coming along nicely without any horrendous bouts of
writers block.  ^_^

Thanks much to my pre-readers, who keep me humble, and always make me
look better than I am in the end.

C&C, public and private is welcome -- indeed, craved. 

Previous chapters of this fic can be found on my web page at:
html://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Ginza/1519
(If it's been a while since you last read Part 20, you might want to
skim it really quick to refresh your memory.)  :)

Without any further ado...


-- Listar MIME Decryption --------------
-- Name   : HEARTS21.TXT

The characters of the Ranma 1/2 universe are the creation and 
possession of the brilliant Rumiko Takahashi.

------------------------------------------------
Hearts of Ice 
Part 21: A Five Minute Interlude
by Krista Perry  
------------------------------------------------


     Being helpless, Yuki-onna knew, was one of the worst things
in the world.  Having the knowledge that terrible things were
happening, and yet being powerless, too weak to help.  Knowing
that people she cared for were in danger, in pain, and yet being
unable to do anything except watch...

     So she didn't watch.

     Not knowing was a much better thing.  And if she didn't use
her mirror to view the mortal realm, she wouldn't know.  She
wouldn't see how Ranma fared on the Mountain of the Ancient One.
She wouldn't see if the Shadowcat was there.  She wouldn't see if
Akane...

     She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.  The now ever-present
trembling ache of loneliness and fear throbbed, hot and silent,
within her.

     Akane had left her, never to return.  After their brief,
tearful farewell, the girl had rushed off to save Ranma from the
claws of the feline demon that hungered for his soul.  And Ranma
himself, unwitting of the approaching danger, was on his way to
face a dragon older than time so that he could break the blood
spell that kept Akane separated from him, a prisoner in the Kami
Plane.

     Yuki-onna raised her head and took a slow step towards the
mirror.  Lifting one pale hand, she rested her fingers lightly,
longingly, on the cool, smooth surface.

     *Are you home, Akane?  Have you saved Ranma?  Has he saved
you?*

     The mirror was dark and lifeless, reflecting only herself,
her inhumanly white face, haggard with worry.  The frost of her
winter breath had not touched the silver surface to conjure
images of the mortal plane since Akane's departure.  

     For, sometimes, it was better not to know.  And yet...

     Nearly a week had passed in the Kami realm.  And, though
time always moved so slowly in the mortal realm... surely things
should be resolved by now...  Surely it should be all right to
look.

     With a mixture of fearful reluctance and anticipation, the
Snow Woman leaned forward until her lips almost touched the
mirror.

     She breathed.  The frost spread and swirled.  The mortal
realm, the mist-shrouded peak of the Mountain of the Ancient One,
shimmered into view.

     She looked.  And knew.

     Sometimes, it was better not to know.

~*~

     "Mistress?"

     Kazuo stood outside the Snow Woman's lattice door, and held
the tea tray as far from himself as possible.  Ever since Akane
had departed, the Snow Woman, for some inexplicable reason, had
taken to having her tea served hot.

     It was disconcerting, but he wasn't complaining.  Serving
her hot tea made her smile, and her smiles were rare things these
days.

     Still, he would be glad to be rid of the kettle and its
steaming contents as soon as possible.  The heat made him
decidedly uncomfortable.  "Mistress?  I've brought your afternoon
tea."

     No answer.

     A frown creased the ice sprite's sharp blue-skinned
features.  Carefully balancing the tray on one hand, he reached
out and slid the door open.

     It was a testament to his skill as a servant that he didn't
drop the tray.

     The room was empty, but for the large, jagged shards of
shattered mirror, glinting with cold light from where they lay
scattered on the floor.

------------------------------------------------

     A quiet breeze stirred the stagnant air at the base of the
Ancient One's mist-shrouded mountain, just as the deepening night
swallowed the last blues of twilight in the sky.  The black gloom
that engulfed the small clearing at that moment was pierced by
distant starlight.  The pale, flickering glow of a solitary
campfire, tended by a diminutive, wounded and weary old woman,
caused shadows to leap and writhe in a chaotic dance amidst the
surrounding foliage.

     Ryoga noticed none of this.  He was staring at the ground.
Not because he wanted to, but because the ground happened to be
in his immediate line of vision.  He had regained consciousness
moments earlier, his head throbbing with pain, only to discover
that he was trussed up with nylon tent cord, dangling upside-down
from a tree branch like a side of meat hanging in a butcher's
window.

     A side of pork, to be specific.

     The little black piglet's eyes stung with tears of anger and
humiliation as he realized the helplessness of his situation.
Grinding his teeth in fury, Ryoga wriggled in his bonds, ignoring
the fact that, should he manage to get loose, the head-first fall
to the ground several meters below would not be pleasant.  He
didn't care.  He'd survived worse.  And the humiliation of his
current position was simply not tolerable.

     His head felt tight and hollow with pain, and his already
muzzy thoughts were near incoherent in his fury, but one thought
managed to penetrate the haze:  Pig or not, when he got loose, he
was going to wring that old ghoul's neck.

     The cords, unfortunately, were stronger than his
determination, tied tight and firm around his tiny body, barely
leaving him enough room to breathe.  Ryoga's strength in his
cursed form was virtually nonexistent.  His efforts only left him
gasping and exhausted, and not a single millimeter closer to
freeing himself.

     Not to be deterred, he twisted and craned his neck, trying
to gnaw on the cords with his sharp teeth... but he soon found to
his dismay that no matter how he strained, he couldn't contort
his compact piglet body enough to reach his bonds.

     As he struggled uselessly, a bit of rationality began to
seep through the painful haze in his head.  Slowly, the grim
reality of his situation penetrated his mind, and his fury
dissolved away under an onslaught of achingly familiar
depression.

     He was fooling himself.  What could he possibly hope to
accomplish in his ridiculous cursed form?  And how could he have
been so careless as to let the old ghoul splash him in the first
place?

     Ryoga sagged in defeat.  The sudden cessation of his
exertions left him swinging slightly in the air, dangling
helplessly from his rope prison.

     Trembling, bitter tears welling in his eyes, he silently
cursed his porcine fate for the millionth time.  He couldn't even
save himself, how on earth could he be relied upon to protect the
others--?

     Ryoga's eyes widened with sudden realization.  

     Oh no.  The others.  Where were they?  What had Cologne done
to them?

     He twisted in his bonds again, not to escape, but to try and
see...

     He discovered Mousse first.  The duck's white plumage stood
out starkly in the darkness, making him easy to spot.  To his
dismay, he saw that his Jusenkyo-cursed companion was in much the
same situation he was in, bound firmly and hanging upside-down
from another tree branch a meter or so away.  Mousse's ever
present glasses were conspicuously absent.

     Ryoga grunted softly, trying to get the duck's attention.
Sullen and silent, the duck briefly raised his head to cast a
despairing, blind glance in Ryoga's general direction before
going limp again.

     So.  No help there.  But at least Mousse seemed to be
unhurt.

     He spotted Ukyo next.  Or rather, he suddenly felt her eyes
on him, and he turned to see her staring up at him from where she
was bound and gagged at the base of a nearby tree.

     Ryoga's relief at seeing her unhurt was short lived as he
abruptly felt his heart climb up into his throat.

     Ukyo was staring at him.  More accurately, Ukyo was
*glaring* at him.

     Ryoga swallowed hard.  *Uh-oh.*

     She knew.  She knew about his curse.  She had figured it
out.  

     *Well, of course she figured it out,* he thought, his chest
growing tight with the sudden wrenching guilt of being exposed in
a lie.  *She wakes up and sees P-Chan and Mousse hanging
unconscious from the tree next to her, and my human self is
nowhere to be found.  And I'm supposed to expect her to believe
that P-Chan just happened to wander all the way to China?  And
even if she did believe that, why would the old ghoul bother to
tie up a piglet?*

     Ukyo's eyes were full of anger and frustration.  She
couldn't  speak, gagged as she was, but she didn't need to.  Her
eyes said everything.

     *You jackass,* she seemed to be saying.  *Why didn't you
tell me?  I wouldn't have attacked Cologne expecting you to back
me up if I had known you were P-Chan.*

     Ryoga felt himself growing defensive under her accusing
gaze, even though he knew deep down that she had a point.  He
didn't care.  *Who are you to judge me?* he wanted to yell at
her.  *You have no idea what it's like, being cursed like this!
Would you go around telling everyone that you turned into a pig?
I don't think so!  Besides, how was I supposed to know that the
old ghoul was going to show up anyway?*

     They sat for a moment, glaring at each other in forced
silence, neither of them able to give voice to their inner
frustrations.  Finally, unwilling to face Ukyo's censure any
longer, Ryoga clenched his teeth and turned away, scanning the
clearing for any sign of Nabiki and Kuno...

     They weren't there.  

     Ryoga's eyes widened.  *Not here.  Oh no, they might be
hurt, they might be...*  He didn't want to think about the other
possibility.  A thick feeling of dread filled him as he
frantically scanned the clearing.  He couldn't see any trace of
Nabiki or Kuno anywhere in the darkness. 

     There was only Cologne.

     The old woman sat silently in the flickering circle of light
cast by the campfire, holding an unconscious lavender cat gently
in the crook of her arm.

     And she was watching him.  Ryoga's eyes met hers over the
flickering light of the flames. 

     Cologne's eyes were expressionless; a flat wall, yielding
nothing of what thoughts lay in the mind beneath. 

     Ryoga's fury reignited at the sight of the Amazon.  *Where
are Nabiki and Kuno?* he wanted to scream at her.  *Did you hurt
them?  Kill them?  Are you going to kill us?  Just because we
stand in the way of your stupid old Amazon traditions?*

     She simply looked at him with apathy, as if silently noting
to herself that, ah yes, the pig had finally regained
consciousness, how interesting.  Then her gaze dropped, so that
she was staring into the crackling fire.

     She was waiting for Ranma, Ryoga knew.  Waiting to take him,
capture him, subdue him by some unknown means, and take him back
to the Amazon village.

     And, Ryoga realized to his mortification, he was the bait.
Ukyo, Shampoo, Mousse... they had all come to this mountain to
help Ranma rescue his mystery girl from the Kami Plane, and
instead, they had been reduced to silent captives; nothing more
than Cologne's bargaining chips in a dangerous, possibly even
deadly game, where his best friend was the prize.

     Ryoga slumped and stared at the ground again, trying to
ignore how his head throbbed painfully with the rush of blood to
his head.  He clenched his teeth in worry and frustration.  Where
was Ranma, anyway?  Why wasn't he back by now?  He'd been on that
stupid mountain for hours!  

     It was the waiting that was the worst.  Trapped in this
terrible limbo where he was rendered powerless.  Unsure of
everything, and unable to get any answers from anyone.

     Ryoga glanced uneasily at the old ghoul.  He didn't even
want to think about what Cologne might have done to Nabiki and
Kuno.  The old ghoul wasn't talking, and she had made damn sure
he couldn't speak so he could ask...

     Then Ryoga noticed the blood.

     At first he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him;
that the huge dark stain on the old ghoul's robes was nothing
more than a shadow, a trick of the dancing firelight.

     No way.  Impossible...

     He sniffed cautiously, taking momentary, reluctant advantage
of his cursed form's excellent sense of smell...

     Ryoga swallowed hard.  It was blood, all right.  Cologne was
wounded.  Who could have..?

     An image flashed in his mind, a memory of Nabiki slowly,
methodically loading cartridges into the chamber of her gun...

     Ryoga blinked.  No *way.*  Nabiki?  He narrowed his eyes,
peering intently at Cologne to make sure...

     Ryoga blinked again in amazement.  It was true.  Nabiki had
shot the old ghoul!

     Then... maybe she and Kuno had escaped!

     A spark of hope flared in Ryoga's chest.  Cologne was
wounded.  And if Nabiki and Kuno had managed to get away, and
Nabiki still had her gun, they might be able to--

     His thoughts came to a screaming halt as the Memories hit
like a ton of bricks.

~*~

     Ukyo dropped her gaze from where Ryoga dangled upside down a
from a nearby tree branch, and bit down angrily on the gag in her
mouth.  She could feel the rough cloth in her mouth rubbing
against her tongue and teeth.  It tasted faintly of grime, and it
was grossing her out.

     Frustrated, she strained futilely against her bonds.  Stupid
old ghoul!  It was a good thing she was gagged, or she would have
a thing or two to say to that old witch!

     And Ryoga... that jerk.  That coward!  Why did he hide his
curse for so long?  And pretending to be Ranma's pet of all
things?  How weird was that?  Did Ranma know about Ryoga's curse?
Well, of course, he had to!  They were both cursed at Jusenkyo,
after all.  But still, that didn't even make any sense that--

     The world suddenly turned itself inside out.

     Ukyo emitted a muffled gasp through her gag as the universe
seemed to shift around her.  Her vision swam, and she closed her
eyes as her mind was assaulted with images, feelings, words,
actions... all surrounding a girl that she didn't know.

     And yet, now, she did.

     She knew this girl, remembered her completely in one
agonizing, reality-altering moment.

     Akane.  

     The violent, temperamental, un-cute fiancee.  The girl who
couldn't out-fight her on her best day.  The girl who couldn't
cook a decent meal to save her life.

     The girl that Ranma loved.

     Ukyo stared wide-eyed at nothing.  Her breath came in ragged
gasps through her gag.

     *Ranchan...*

~*~

     Cologne closed her eyes and steadied herself as the memories
of Akane filled her head.  Through her disorientation, she could
hear Ukyo's muffled gasp and Ryoga's brief squeal of surprise.
Taking a deep, weary breath, ignoring the pain in her wounded
shoulder, she stared into the flames and waited for the memories
to settle into their proper place in her mind.

     Well.  The blood spell was broken.  Ranma had succeeded
again, apparently.  Amazing.

     Nothing to do now but wait for him to return. 

     And then... fight him, of course.  True, she was handicapped
with her wounded shoulder, but Ranma would be exhausted from his
journey up the mountain and his battles with the demons.  His
companions were incapacitated.  As for Akane... well, she was a
liability.  Ranma had a habit of leaving his own defenses wide
open when it came to protecting the inept girl, after all.

     So.  Quickly splash him with the mind-numbing potion.  Take
him, take Shampoo, and flee, leaving the others behind to do what
they would.  At that point, it would be too late for them to do
anything for Ranma anyway, and once she reached the Amazon
village, they could not hope to do anything against her.  

     Of course, Ukyo might try.  Mousse most certainly would,
since the fool boy never had much sense.  As for Ryoga...

     Cologne cast a sidelong glance towards where she had left
the cursed boy bound and hanging helplessly from a tree branch at
the edge of the clearing.  The tiny piglet was staring at the
ground, stunned and wide-eyed.

     Interesting.

     With Akane returned, how hard would the Lost Boy try to save
his rival?  Especially if she made it clear that there was no
cure for the mind-numbing potion, and thus no point in trying to
rescue Ranma.  Why, even with the mistrust he felt towards her,
it would probably take no effort at all to convince him to
abandon Ranma completely and stay behind to comfort Akane...

     It was certainly something to consider.

     As for Shampoo, her misplaced guilt, and her new feelings
for Mousse...  Nothing a little Formula 110 couldn't handle, to
erase that little error and restore her feelings for Ranma.  

     For the millionth time, she lamented that such a simple
technique wouldn't work on the boy.  He was too strong-willed;
his feelings for Akane too ingrained for such a subtle mind
altering tactic to take effect with any permanence.  Shampoo was
another matter entirely.  After all, a few hours of realized love
for a simpleton couldn't hope to stand against a full year of
passionate desire for Son-in-law.

     Then, everything would be fine.

     At least, as fine as things could get considering her whole
plan, her whole life, her whole world had been quite literally
shot to hell.

     The feel of Yin Wu Ch'ang Kuei's lifeless touch still
lingered on the wrinkled skin of her face; the dank, musty smell
of the Ghost's breath still filled her nostrils.  Her partially
healed, shattered shoulder ached with dull fire.

     *When?  When did I lose control?*

     It was a foolish question, and she knew it.  Ah, nothing
like coming face to face with Death to stir up the unwanted
murmurings of inner conscience.  And so the thought, the pricking
of her soul that she had ignored for so long, finally struggled
through layers of stubbornness and pride to the surface of her
mind.

     *I never should have allowed Shampoo to cast the blood
spell...*

     Cologne closed her eyes and released a weary, soul-
shuddering sigh.

     She had made a grave error.  The lives of all involved had
been forever altered, none for the better.  She could place the
blame on Shampoo, but she knew, deep down, that all it would have
taken was a single word from her own lips, and none of this would
have happened.

     There was nothing for it now.  Regret came far too late, and
even so, the emotion was a useless one.  She pushed it from her,
feeling cold inside.  All the *if only's* in the world wouldn't
change what tradition, duty and Amazon honor demanded of her.

     But... when it came down to it, this whole mess was Ranma's
own fault.  If only he had honored Amazon law and married Shampoo
to begin with, it never would have come to this.  She wouldn't
have been forced to take such drastic measures.

     And she had waited so *long.*  She had lived in Japan for an
entire year, hoping that Ranma would make up his mind about his
many fiancees.  Oh yes, she had been very patient with him.  Far
more so than any of the other elders on the council would have
been.  If it had been Lai Ying in her place, for instance, Ranma
would have been subdued by any means necessary her first week in
Japan.  Anyone else, and there would have been no mercy, no
special training... certainly no teaching of secret techniques.
And no near-endless grandmotherly patience while the boy's
indecisiveness not only kept Shampoo's honor unfulfilled, but
kept Cologne herself from her home, her people, and the
responsibilities of her council seat.

     But her patience and good humor had worn thin.  She longed
to have the whole thing settled so they could return home, but
Ranma had showed so few signs of making up his mind.  Worse,when
he *did* show signs, none of them were directed at Shampoo.

     The blood spell, in spite of all its inherent dangers, had
seemed like the most likely solution to their problem at the
time.  She wouldn't have allowed Shampoo to cast the spell
otherwise.

     But now, the blood spell was broken.  Ranma would be coming
back soon, with Akane.

     Cologne sighed and stared into the flames.  With a trembling
hand that tingled with sharp, stabbing flashes of pain, she
gently stroked the velvet-soft fur of the unconscious cat that
lay cradled in the crook of her good arm. 

     Yes.

     Nothing to do now but wait.

~*~

     Ukyo's eyes burned with tears.  She blinked them back
fiercely.

     It... wasn't as painful as she thought it would be,
remembering Akane.

     It was actually something of a relief.  She felt giddy and
lightheaded with the power of understanding.  At last, after
everything they'd gone through the past few weeks, everything
made sense.

     More importantly, if Akane was finally free from the Kami
Plane, it could only mean that Ranma had succeeded in breaking
the blood spell.

     Which meant, of course, that he was safe.  He would return.
He would come down the mountain, kick Cologne's ancient ass, and
set her and the others free.  They would find Nabiki and Kuno,
safe and sound, and then they could all go home.  Finally.

     Sure.  Simple as that.

     What she would do then, she didn't know.

     But hey, at least she now knew what part to play.  She knew
her proper lines.

     *So good to have you back, Akane.  I hope you and Ranma are
happy together.*

     Yeah.  That's the ticket.  Be happy for them.  Happy happy
oh so happy.  *Have fun, you two.  Oh no, don't mind me.  I've
only spent my entire life trying to regain a bit of the honor and
self-respect that was stolen from me as a child.  I've only spent
my entire life chasing after a stupid, foolish dream that was
never mine to have.  I've only given my heart and soul to a man
who never could see past his own nose long enough to see how much
I...*

     A sob began to work its way up from the depths of her
insides.  Clenching her teeth, she swallowed it back, hard.

     Okay, so maybe she was a *little* bitter.

     But it wasn't like she hadn't had time to prepare for this
moment.  She had known for weeks now that Ranma's heart did not
belong to her, and she had come on this quest knowing that this
very moment might come.

     This was only the final severing blow.  Her heartstrings
were now well and truly cut, lying in aching tatters around her.

     She was alone.  Again.

     A memory surfaced in her mind.  The memory of little Ranma,
waving cheerfully from the back of her father's yattai as he left
her behind, while she lay face down in the dirt, angrily,
tearfully pleading with him to come back, to take her with him...

     Back then, he was oblivious of the wreck he'd made of her
life; of the years of pain and loneliness she would suffer
afterwards because of his unintentional abandonment.

     *Well, Ranchan.  This is the second time you've left me
behind.  And, like the first, are you even aware of what you've
done to me?*

     Could she stand it?  Watching Ranma and Akane together,
seeing Ranma look at Akane with unfettered love in his eyes?

     How would it be?  Of course she would be invited to the
wedding.  Hey, maybe Akane would give a break to her once-rival,
and throw the bouquet in her direction.  

     And maybe someday, somewhere, she'd find a man she could
love as much as she loved Ranma...

     Yeah, right.  And maybe Cologne would untie her and the
others, prostrate herself in profuse apologies, and let them go
on their merry way.

     Ukyo snorted softly.  *This bites,*  she thought succinctly.
Yes, that pretty much summed up the whole damn day.  Her whole
damn life.

     Still...  it wasn't as painful as she thought it would be.

     It was really more of a relief, actually.

     The tears burned her eyes, but didn't fall.

~*~

     Trembling, Ryoga stared at the ground.

     *Oh... oh gods...

     *Akane...*

     Akane.  His love, his life, the very hope of his existence. 

     Somewhere on the Mountain of the Ancient One, Ranma must
have managed to break the blood spell, for Akane had returned
from the Kami Plane.  The Spell of Forgetfulness was shattered.

     And Ryoga remembered everything.

     The first time he saw her, standing next to Ranma as he
challenged the pigtailed boy to a duel.  The numb look on her
face when his belt blade accidentally severed her long hair.  The
kiss she placed on his pig snout as she adopted his cursed form
as her pet.  Her kindness.  Her achingly beautiful smile...

     His horrible, horrible fear that she would discover his
curse and hate him forever...

     Her fights with Ranma.  Ranma's biting insults that left
Akane hurting and Ryoga boiling with protective anger...  

     Ryoga remembered it all.  He felt frozen, shocked beyond
pain, beyond tears.  His insides were like ice.

     He remembered forgetting her.

     The past few weeks flew by in his mind.  Losing Akane to the
blood spell.  Searching desperately for a way to get her back...

     And then... just forgetting her.

     Ranma's words, spoken to him over a week previous, suddenly
came back to haunt him.

     *I'm gonna get her back, Ryoga.  I don't know how, but I'm
gonna find a way.  And when I do, you'll probably remember her
again.  But I want you to know right now, once and for all --
Akane is my fiancee.  And if you try to interfere again...  Well,
you're gonna have to fight me.* 

     And his own unknowing response, spoken in ignorance.  *Uh...
That's okay, Ranma.  She's all yours.*

     Ryoga began to shake.  He recalled his thoughts from just
moments before his memories of Akane had returned.  He had been
worried about Ranma.  About Ranma!  Selfish, arrogant, womanizing
Ranma, the bane of his existence!  His rival, his mortal enemy!
His... 

     His friend.  

     *NO!*  Ryoga squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head
forcefully as his restored memories collided with his experiences
of the past few weeks.  *Ranma's NOT my friend!  I HATE him!  I
hate him, not only for the hell he's put me through, but for what
he's done to Akane!  Why, Akane would never even have disappeared
if it wasn't for him!  Shampoo would have never cast the blood
spell to get rid of Akane in the first place if he... if he...*

     Realization pierced the all-too familiar haze of his
irrational fury.

     *...if he didn't love her.*

     Ryoga went deathly still at the thought.  Tears slowly
seeped unheeded from his eyes as confusion twisted his feelings.
Desire, jealousy, hate, love, friendship... each emotion powerful
and raw, seared through his fragile heart until he thought he
might die from the pain of it.

     And then, with the spark of rationality he had gained from
the past weeks, weeks of living with his mind cleared of his
usual constant thirst for vengeance... he understood.

     For the first time, he understood Ranma.  He understood
Akane.  Most of all... he understood himself.

     He... had lost.  

     Worse, the battle he thought he was fighting, for his honor,
for Akane's love, for respect... never even existed except in his
own mind.

     He saw the whole situation with the clarity of one who has
finally washed the layers of mud and filth from his own eyes,
only to find himself blinking back tears of pain from the
stinging brightness of the sun.

     He hated understanding.  Hated it, because his new
comprehension ultimately changed nothing, and thus brought no
solace, no comfort for his terrible, devastating sense of loss. 

     *Oh, Akane...*

     Ryoga's tiny piglet body, bound with cords and hanging
upside down in the night-shrouded branches of a tree, trembled
with quiet, strangely human-like sobs.

~*~

     As she opened her eyes to see the dazzling star-lit sky
through the dark dappled pattern of tree foliage above her,
Nabiki realized that she had fainted.  On top of that, she had
done so without a hell of a lot of dignity.  

     She didn't care.

     *Akane.*

     Well well.  Three cheers for Ranma the wonder boy.  He had 
succeeded yet again.  He'd broken the blood spell, and had
restored Akane to both the mortal plane and to her memories.

     Nabiki groaned.

     Not that she wasn't happy about the situation.  On the
contrary, she was ecstatic.  She couldn't remember a single time
in her entire life that compared to this incredible moment of
palpable relief.  Ranma had succeeded.  Akane was safe.  Alive.
And coming home.  Nabiki wanted to laugh and cry and shout and
jump up and down.

     If only she didn't have such a damn headache.

     She sat up slowly, raising a hand to her forehead at the
throbbing that still lingered inside her skull.  The
embarrassment she felt over displaying such a weakness in front
of Kuno was only lessened by the fact that she knew it wasn't
every day that almost her entire life was reorganized in her head
in a split second.

     Still, it was never too late to display self-control, even
if an entire lifetime of forgotten memories had just been crammed
into her brain.  She steadied herself, looked up to where Kuno
sat, still in that cross-legged meditative stance, and forced a
wry grin.  

     "Wow," she said.  "What a trip."

     Kuno didn't respond.  His eyes were lowered, shadowed by the
hanging curl of his bangs.  Even in the dim starlight, she could
see that his fingers were clenched, knuckle-white, around the
bokken that lay across his lap.

     And he was trembling, Nabiki realized with surprise.  And
not just a little tremble.  A whole all-over-body-on-the-verge-
of-epileptic-fit kind of tremble.

     She blinked.  "Hey.  Kuno.  You okay?

     Kuno didn't raise his eyes.  "Twice over," he whispered
hoarsely.  "I have dishonored myself twice over."

     Abrupt understanding settled heavily in Nabiki's gut.  Of
course.  He was remembering Akane, and thus no doubt remembering
his conduct towards not only Ranma's girl form, but her as well.

     Nabiki couldn't quite supress a grimace of sympathy.  Poor
guy.  Nothing like coming face to face with yourself immediately
after a life-altering reality check, only to discover that you're
even more of an idiot than you first realized.

     She could see the horror in his face as he remembered.  All
those glompings.  The flowers, the gifts, the bad poetry.  Not to
mention, of course, all those pictures he had purchased from her
in fits of wild-eyed drooling lust...

     He was looking like he might be sick; like he wanted to
crawl under the nearest rock and die.

     Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have cared.  Under
normal circumstances, she would have taken great pleasure from
seeing True Blunder of Furinkan High squirm in the misery of
realization.

     But lately, the word "normal" seemed to have taken an
extended vacation from her vocabulary.

     "Ohhh," Kuno groaned.  He released his death grip on his
bokken and clutched at his head with shaking fingers.  "What...
what infernal darkness has blinded mine eyes that I could not
see; that I could perform such ignoble proprieties to the
tainting of my soul and the destruction of my honor!  And, but
for the meddling of that unearthly transcendental influence at
the base of that most cursed mountain, summoning the searing
light of epiphany, the blinding mists of darkness would enshroud
me still!"

      Nabiki blinked.  On the other hand, Kuno's pontification
abilities seemed *quite* back to normal.  

     *Is this how he was when he first realized that the
pigtailed girl was actually Ranma?* she wondered.  When she had
regained consciousness after Cologne's attack, Kuno had been
utterly calm and rational -- eerily so, considering his sudden
comprehension that Ranma and the pigtailed girl were one and the
same.

     *This,* on the other hand, was how she had *expected* him to
act after such a discovery.  And now, as she watched Kuno's
immediate reaction to the restored memories of Akane, she
couldn't help but wonder if, while she was out of it, she had
missed out on a show of serious soul-wrenching angst.

     "Uh... Kuno?"

     He raised his head and looked at her.  She surreptitiously
grit her teeth, trying not to flinch in the face of his haggard,
haunted expression.  "Dishonored twice over," he whispered.
"Akane... all that time, and she never loved me.  And the
pigtailed..."  He strangled on the word, his throat closing off,
and he swallowed convulsively.  "The whole of my existence is but
a sham, a farce," he moaned, "the affections of my inner heart
nothing more than the delusions of a madman."

     Nabiki looked at him grimly for a long uncomfortable moment.
"Um...  If you're waiting for me to contradict you," she said at
last, "you're talking to the wrong person."

     Kuno looked down at his trembling hands and clenched them
into fists.  "Everyone... everyone knew the truth... except me."

     Nabiki wrapped her arms around her knees and said nothing,
but her silence was as loud as a resounding acknowledgement.

     He lifted his gaze to look her in the eye.  "You knew.  All
this time."

     She nodded curtly, refusing to show the discomfort she felt. 
"And, if you recall, I tried to explain the truth to you on more
than one occasion.  We all did."

     His expression grew bitter.  "And yet *you* selected your
words to perpetuate my delusions, not dispell them.  You fed upon
my madness like a tick bloats itself on the blood of the
unwitting beast."

     Nabiki's eyes narrowed.  "Look, Kuno," she said coldly, "I
know you feel like a first class moron right now, but don't go
trying to place the blame on me for your behavior.  You've just
proven to me in the past couple of hours that you *do* have a
brain, so I know that you had it in you to see the truth if you
really wanted to."

     "So you feel no remorse for preying upon my weakness."

     "I didn't say that."  Nabiki felt herself flushing, whether
from embarrassment or anger, she couldn't tell.  "Don't put words
in my mouth.  I'm not exactly busting with pride over what I did,
but there's not a hell of a lot I can do about it now.  And don't
expect me to come groveling for your forgiveness for selling you
pics of your 'true loves' when, if you'd just exercised a few of
your brain cells and a bit of self control, I wouldn't have been
able to take advantage of you in the first place."

     Kuno, who wasn't looking in the least bit like his usual
pompous self, shriveled even more under her sharp words.  "You...
speak the truth."  His voice was barely audible.

     Nabiki looked at him silently, and felt guilt stab at her
insides.

     *What am I doing?* she thought.  *Even if it _is_ the truth,
I'm only making him feel worse...*

     She grit her teeth.  It was time to get down to business and
seriously swallow some pride.  They didn't have time for this
nonsense, after all.  Akane was back.  They needed to go back to
the mountain and rejoin the others.  As much as she hated to
admit it, she needed Kuno's help.  She needed him not only lucid,
but confident and ready to fight if necessary.

     And that meant that she needed to help him through this, not
add to his misery.

     *Great.  So now I get to play Kuno's therapist.*

     Nabiki exhaled a long, slow breath as she pushed herself to
her feet.  She looked down at him sternly.  "All right, Kuno,
listen up.  I... I'm... sorry..." *that you were an idiot*
"...that I took advantage of your..." *sick obsession with Ranma
and Akane*  "...weakness..."  

     Gods, this was difficult.  She had to choose her words
carefully.  Not an easy thing to do, since she was angry and
scared -- neither of which were the most nurturing emotions she
could be feeling at the moment.  Kuno didn't even seem to be
responding, but she pressed on.  "Yes, it's true that you made...
an error in judgement.  But all that is in the past.  Can't you
see?"

     Kuno looked up at her, his surprise at her change in
attitude flickering through his self-loathing.    

     Encouraged, she continued.  "This is your big chance!  You
can start over!  Now that you're finally aware of the truth, you
can take action and regain your honor!  You can make everything
up to Ranma and Akane by helping them defeat Cologne and getting
us all safely back to Japan!"

     Kuno wanted to believe her.  The desire for redemption was
plain in his expression, and yet even that was clouded by doubt.
"If only it were that simple," he said.

     Nabiki suppressed the urge to grind her teeth.  "It *is*
that simple.  Who says it has to be difficult?  Trust me, Kuno,
your reputation can't get any worse.  It's only uphill from
here."  

     Kuno groaned and held his head in his hands.

     Nabiki mentally berated herself.  *Oh, _that_ was good.  Try
again, girl, and this time, try not to kick him when he's down.*  

     Sighing, she knelt down again so that she was eye level with
him.  "Kuno.  Everything is going to be fine.  I know that it
will be difficult, facing everyone again after... after all
that's happened.  But... look.  It won't be as hard as you think.
Akane may be a bit violent, but I know her well enough to know
that if you show her how you've changed, she'll forgive you.  As
for Ranma... hell, he's one of the most forgiving guys I know.
And believe me, he knows what it's like to experience
humiliation, so he'll understand.  All you've got to do is show
him that your sorry, and he'll probably never mention it again."

     Kuno breathed a heavy sigh.  "After my atrocious behavior, I
do not deserve such kindness."

     "Bull.  Everybody deserves a second chance.  Even you,
Kuno."  Nabiki was surprised by the sincerity of her words.
"You've got to trust me on this."

     He snorted, not bothering to raise his head.  "Trust *you*?
I assure you, Nabiki Tendo, I am seeing things quite clearly at
the moment, and the memory of your manipulations whilst I was in
the thrall of self-delusion is plain to me.  Everything you've
ever done, even this transparent ploy to cheer me, is only to
further your own self-interests.  I do not trust you."

     Nabiki's left eye twitched.  She stared at him for a long
moment, listening to the sound of her heart thumping painfully in
her chest.

     "I'm going to let that slide," she said at last, "because,
after everything that's happened, I know that you know better."
She stood, turned away sharply, and walked to the edge of the
clearing.  "If it's in my 'self-interest' to get you, me, and
everyone else out of this hellhole and back home safely, I guess
I'm guilty.  Akane is back, and that was our agreed signal for us
to rejoin the others, remember?  I'd go by myself, but it's
*really* dark in that forest, and since you brought me here while
I was unconscious, I have no idea where the hell we are."

     She turned back to him and favored him with a piercing
glare.  "In other words," she said tightly, "I need your help.
So let me know when you're through feeling sorry for yourself so
we can get something accomplished, okay?"

     And then she turned away, because at that moment, tears
burned her eyes, and there was no way in the world that she was
going to give that bastard the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

     This wasn't the way it was supposed to be.  Yes, she had
said everything right -- everything that needed to be said to get
Kuno thinking in the right direction.  She knew without looking
that she had finally managed to get Kuno to focus on something
besides his misery and mistakes.

     But she wasn't supposed to feel so miserable because of it.

     She could feel him looking at her; could feel his gaze on
her back.  *What are you staring at?* she wanted to snarl.  But
didn't.

      After an infinitely long moment, she heard him get to his
feet and come up slowly behind her.

     *Oh gods, not now, Kuno, go away,* she thought, blinking at
the wetness in her eyes.

     He was coming.  She could almost see it in her mind now; a
scene right out of a manga.  He rests his hand on her shoulder,
murmurs a heartfelt apology, and she turns, eyes shining with
tears and says, Oh, it's all right, I know you didn't mean it,
before sobbing into his chest as he put his arms around her to
comfort...

     Nabiki blinked.  Gah!  Nope.  No way in *hell* was that
going to happen.

     She snapped around to face him just before he reached her,
and sure enough, the shamefaced apology was in his countenance,
almost on his lips.

     "So," she said, more sharply than she intended.  "Are you
ready to go now?"

     Kuno stared at her uncertainly, but he would not be deterred
from his objective.  "I'm sorry," he said.  "You were trying to
help me."

     "Yeah, whatever.  It worked, obviously.  You're feeling
better, so grab your bokken and let's go."

     "I should not have said--"

     "You should have, you did, it's all true, I'm fine with it,
so enough already."

     Kuno looked at her somberly.  "I... do not think that I was
seeing quite as clearly as I thought I was."

     *No.  You're not, Kuno.  Otherwise you would see that you
are just playing another role.*

     At first, she'd thought that he had such remarkable control;
that his ability to recover from such devestating personal
revelation was inhuman.

     But he hadn't recovered at all.  She could see it in his
eyes.  The confusion, fear and pain... the self-loathing...

     And over that self-loathing, a new facade.  A new face to
show to the world, to hide the wounded thing he was.  No longer
was he the warrior of classic romance, courting his true loves,
rescuing them from vile demons and sorcerers.

     No.  Now he was the fallen samauri, noble even in his
tragedy, who would regain his honor at all costs.

     And this was what she wanted.  Because *this* Kuno was
useful.  *This* Kuno would be able to help them all.

     Maybe, on some level, Kuno knew that he was play-acting.
Maybe he even knew that Nabiki's words had goaded him into his
new role.

     Maybe, Nabiki realized with a start as she looked into his
eyes... he didn't care.

     She smiled.  "Well, Kuno.  It seems to me that *nobody* ever
sees things quite as clearly as they think they do -- including
me."  She walked over and picked up the bokken from where it lay
on the grass, then handed it to him with a gesture that implied
that if he said another word on the subject, she'd whack him with
it.

     He understood, and kept his silence.  As he took the bokken
in his hands, a bit of his old confidence returned to his
countenance, though it was now overshadowed by the heavy burden
of his new perspective.

     At least he liked his new role.  And if he lived it well
enough, maybe it would become more than just a role.

     "The old woman, Cologne," Kuno said suddenly, and Nabiki
paused.  "She will not be happy to see us."

     Nabiki felt a chill all the way down to her bones that had
nothing to do with the coolness of the night.  Cologne wouldn't
be happy to see *her* specifically.

     She hid her inner thoughts with a light toss of her head.
"That's why we'd better pray that Ranma takes care of her before
we get there."

     "Indeed.  Let us be off then."

     Nabiki gestured to the surrounding trees.  The thick forest
was filled with a darkness, swallowing the soft starlight that
lit their clearing sanctuary.

     "Lead the way, Kuno-chan."

~*~

     "More sake, Kasumi!"  Genma waved his empty glass in the air
and laughed boisterously.

     "Coming, Uncle Saotome."

     Soun sobbed, his copious tears drenching the tatami mat.
"He did it, Saotome!  Ranma saved my little girl!"

     "I told you he would, didn't I, Tendo?  What else would you
expect from *my* son?"

     "I never should have doubted you, Saotome!"

     "There there, Tendo.  Ah, thank you, Kasumi!  Here, Tendo,
drink up!"

     "Yes, it is indeed a night for celebration!  Our families
shall be united at last..."

     And on and on they went, slapping each other on the back and
laughing loudly in between Soun's bursts of weeping.  Kasumi knew
that in a little while, they would both be thoroughly drunk.

     Just as well.

     She went into the kitchen, gratefully leaving the two noisy
men behind, and fetched the broom and dustpan from their place
next to the refrigerator.

     Walking down the hall, she went outside to the covered
walkway that led to the dojo.  The night was cool, peaceful, dark
and moonless; the quiet of the evening only broken by the
occasional barking dog, and bursts of laughter from the patio on
the other side of the house.

     She paused outside the dojo entrance for a moment, leaning
on her broom, and closed her eyes, feeling the evening air
against her face, her eyelids.  Then, taking a deep breath, she
stepped inside the dojo, turned on the light, and squinted
against the brightness.

     Her hands trembled.

     "Oh... my."

     Meticulously, and with great care, she began to sweep up the
remains of the fallen, broken altar that lay scattered on the
floor.

     Her heart ached.  She wanted to be glad.  She longed for a
sense of relief, a sense of peace that her sister was finally
safe, no longer a prisoner of the Kami Plane.

     As she methodically swept the shattered altar into her
dustpan, she couldn't help but wonder.  And worry.

     Akane had returned.  But, with such a terrible omen as this,
at what cost?

--------------------

     Ranma stared at his body.  

     His dead body.  

     He was dead.  

     He was looking at his own body from the outside.  

     And he couldn't help but note, with a kind of mind-numbed,
detached fascination, how... gross he looked.  All pasty and
bloody and lifeless...

     "This isn't happening," he said.  "I can't be dead."

     His own words echoed back to him from the misty, night
shrouded mountain side.  

     He blinked.  Of course.  He *couldn't* be dead.  He had to
live, he had to finish the rest of his life.  Finish the rest of
his life, with Akane.  He had fought so hard and suffered so much
to get her back, only for *this* to happen?  

     No way.  Being dead definitely did not fit in with his
future plans.

     "Hey," he said.  Turning to where Yang Wu Ch'ang Kuei stood,
gazing at him in silence, he pointed at his body.  "Put me back."
His voice was tight and strangely calm, in spite of the fact that
he felt like totally freaking out.  "You gotta put me back in
there.  In the... my body."

     The Ghost of Impermanence stared at him with those unnerving
eyes, bulging unnaturally from his strangled, purple face.

     Ranma's voice rose slightly as a bit of his inner fear and
anger began to seep through his stunned exterior.  "I'm serious,
man, I *can't* die!  Not right now, at least.  So put me back!"

     Without a word, Yang Wu Ch'ang Kuei faded away.

     "Hey!"  Ranma stepped forward in alarm, his hands reaching
to where the Chinese emissary of death had stood mere moments
before.  His grasping fingers touched nothing.  "Hey, don't
leave!  No, dammit, come back here!  You gotta put me back!"

     But the Kuei was gone.  Ranma's hands fell back to his sides
as he stared at the empty space in wide-eyed dismay.

     He was alone.  

     He was... dead.

     Ranma clenched and unclenched his fists, struggling
uselessly to come to grips with the situation.  Only one
conclusion came immediately to mind.  

     This *totally* sucked.

     Not knowing what else to do, he turned back to his body and,
taking a deep breath, knelt down next to it.  

     Okay.  No need to panic.  If the Kuei wouldn't put him back,
he'd just do it himself.  Nothing to it, right?  Just... get back
in the body.  

     Or something.

     Tentatively, he stretched out his hand towards the body.
Towards... the face.  His face.  His face, slack and lifeless.
His cheeks, still wet with tears and blood.  His eyes, wide and
blank and...

     He paused, swallowing hard as he forcibly pushed back the
growing feeling of horror that was totally creeping him out.

     He clenched his fists, steadying himself.  "Okay," he said,
and cleared his throat when his voice cracked a little.  "Nothing
to it."   He reached out...

     His fingers passed through the flesh like it wasn't even
there.  He quickly pulled his hand away, unnerved.  He had
expected to feel *something.*   A tingling, maybe; a tug, or even
a coolness, or...

     He realized something then, something his mind had been
trying to tell him since he first found himself outside his body.

     He... couldn't feel anything.  

     Not quite true.  He could feel the calloused flesh of his
own fingers and palms as he clenched his fists.  He could feel
the material of his clothes against his skin...

     *What skin?* he wondered.  *All your skin is lying in a heap
in front of you...*

     As the morbid thought flitted through his mind, Ranma
paused.  His eyes widened as he was struck by a flash of dread-
inspired insight.  

     He didn't have any skin to feel, and yet he could feel it.
How?  

     His mind had to be filling in the blanks for him, he
realized.  Like... like an amputee who had lost an arm or a leg,
and yet could still feel a "ghost limb" in its place.

     Only, in his case, he could still feel his flesh around him,
even though his whole body lay before him in a crumpled, lifeless
heap on the mountain side.

     All of the sensations he was feeling at that moment --
breathing, swallowing, his heart thumping hard in his chest in
fear, just mere moments after feeling it slow to a dead
standstill...

     None of those feelings were real.  It was just his mind,
filling in the blanks.  He knew because, as he paused for the
first time to extend his senses beyond himself in the way he had
been trained to do since he was a child... he couldn't do it.

     He couldn't smell the dank mist, the moist dirt... not even
the odor of his own sweat and blood that had filled his head just
moments before.  He couldn't smell anything.

     He couldn't feel the ground beneath his feet.  He couldn't
feel the coolness of the clear, starry night.  He couldn't even
feel the constant, familiar pressure of the air against his
ghostly skin.

     "Oh, gods," he whispered as he looked down at himself, wide
eyed and thoroughly unnerved at the discovery.  And when he
spoke, he couldn't feel the rush of air within his lungs.  His
voice had come without the force of breath.  His breathing was a
mere illusion, nothing more than an automated movement imposed
upon his spirit by a mind too soon separated from flesh...

     A flicker of panic stabbed through him.  He... couldn't
function like this.  He was a martial artist, dammit!  He
*needed* to be able to feel the world around him, and this...
this...

     Ranma shuddered, squeezed his eyes shut, and wrapped his
arms around his chest, anxious to feel his own solidness even if
it *was* a ghostly illusion and nothing more.

     *Okay,* he thought to himself forcibly.  *Come on, Saotome.
Get a grip.  Lots of other people have died before you, and they
must have dealt with it somehow, so you can too.  Just take it
one step at a time.*

     The thought was somewhat calming, and restored a semblance
of rationality to his scrambled thoughts.

     Control.  Focus.  Think, dammit.

     At least he could still see, he realized.  And hear.  Not
all of his senses had been killed with his body, it seemed.

     Ranma forced himself to relax, to be calm.  He could deal
with this.  He *would* deal with this.

     Slowly, he opened his eyes.

     *What the hell are you supposed to do when you're dead?* he
wondered.

     Looking down at the body, he found his initial mind-numbing
panic and horror slowly ebbing under a wave of other emotions;
mostly confusion and melancholy, mixed with faint irritation as
rationality gradually reasserted itself in his mind.  He
grimaced.  What in the world was he thinking, trying to get back
into his body?  After all, if every person who died could just
hop right back into their body, the world would be overflowing
with people who just wouldn't stay dead.

     Still...

     His brow furrowed in frustration.  He just couldn't sit back
and accept this.  He couldn't *stay* defeated.  Not for long.  

     That's right.  He was Ranma Saotome, and as far as he was
concerned, death was just one more enemy to defeat.  Just because
nobody else that he knew of had figured out how to come back to
life didn't mean he couldn't do it... somehow...

     So what if he didn't have a clue as to how he planned to
accomplish the impossible?

     Well.  The first step to defeating an opponent, he knew, was
understanding it.  Okay.  Simple enough.  All he had to do was...
figure out death.

     Taking a deep breath, he looked down at himself.  *Himself,*
not... the body.  

     Hm.  He looked... well, normal.  Not shimmery or transparent
or glowing or anything.  He was even wearing the black pants and
red Chinese shirt he'd... uh, died in, so to speak.  He blinked.
*What gives?* he thought, wondering briefly about ghostly
clothing.  Then he shook his head, immediately abandoning the
train of thought as just Too Weird.

     *Okay,* he thought, with some measure of annoyance.  *Now
what?*  He glanced around at his surroundings.  Death was really
turning out to be different from what he'd expected.  Wasn't
there supposed to be a river or something?  With his ancestors
waiting on the other side to greet him?  Ryoga had mentioned
something to that effect after his near-death experience when
fighting Mint and Lime.  Huh.  Ryoga was probably just pulling
his leg or something.  All *he* could see was the mist-shrouded
mountain side.

     He frowned.  There *had* to be more to death than this; more
than just being cut off from the rest of reality, reduced to
nothing more than an intangible spirit, a mere ghost, a--

     Ranma froze as a memory from earlier that afternoon struck
him numb with sudden fear.

     --a kuei...

     *You'll see, boy.*  The voice, cold and raspy, filled with
malicious delight, speaking out of the mists.  *You are on your
noble quest now, but you'll be joining us soon enough, one way or
another.  You will die, slowly, painfully, as we all did, and
your soul will be trapped here, forever, at the base of this
cursed mountain...*

     Ranma's eyes widened with horrified realization.

     *You will join us.  And when the next poor fool tries to
climb the mountain, it shall be you who will sink your ghostly
fingers into mortal flesh; it shall be you who will take pleasure
in feeling their life slip away...*

     No way.  No *way.*  

     Ranma clenched his teeth.  It couldn't be.  He was...
trapped?  Doomed to spend the rest of eternity haunting this mist
shrouded, demon-infested mountain?  And so what if he was dead!
It didn't mean he wasn't *himself.*  Ghost or not, he would never
kill anybody, never try and drain their life away like the kuei
had tried to do to him.  He would never become like those
disgusting, rotting, hissing, cringing kuei, never in a million
years.

     But then, if he couldn't figure a way out of this, he just
might be stuck here long enough to put that to the test...

     *Oh jeeze.*  He grimaced.  Forever was an awfully long time
to be stuck on a stupid mountain, unable to touch anything...

     And then another unpleasant thought crossed his mind.

     Had the others... the kuei... started out like him?  Had
they been as determined to be true to themselves, in spite of the
hell into which they had been thrust?

     How long had they lasted... months, years, centuries...
before their humanity slipped away into madness?

     Ranma suppressed a shudder.  After his experiences with the
Shadowcat, he was more than well-acquainted with what it felt
like to lose himself.  But he had fought too hard for his
identity, for his very *sanity,* to let it slip out of his grasp
again just because he was dead--

     Something twinged -- something feral and feline, lying
curled and dormant in the depths of his mind.  It stirred
slightly in response to his morbid thoughts.

     Ranma blinked in surprise.

     *What the-- the Nekoken?*

     He reached inside himself, probing carefully... and felt it
twinge again.

     Ranma blinked again in amazement.  The Nekoken.  It was
still there, still inside him.  Was his soul so completely melded
with the feline spirit that even death couldn't separate their
symbiosis?

     He frowned, not quite sure how to feel about this discovery.
He felt that he should be angry, worried, even a bit... scared.
And he *would* have been scared, if...  

     ...if he hadn't so recently had a taste of what it was like
to control all that gloriously terrifying power.

     Power.

     A humorless smile quirked at the corners of Ranma's lips.
So.  Perhaps having the beast within wasn't such a bad thing --
at least not at the moment.  It was a good thing he had learned,
to a basic extent, how to control the Nekoken.  He could use that
power if he was going to be trapped on this mountain with a bunch
of demons.

     Curious, Ranma focused on stirring up the Nekoken's power
within him.  Carefully, slowly, he guided the feline instincts to
the surface of his soul--

     --and choked out a gasp, crumpling to his knees, as sudden,
irrational panic flooded through his mind as he--

     *--couldn't *feel* he couldn't *feel* he couldn't *feel*
anything, he was clawing at the ground, but his fingers just
passed through the dirt and he couldn't feel it, he couldn't feel
the air, he couldn't smell or sense and he had to he had to, he
was suffocating and he was scared so scared...*

     Shaking, gasping for air that he couldn't breathe, Ranma
forced the Nekoken back.  The feline aspect of his soul slid with
willing relief away from the terrifying sensory deprivation of
the afterlife and into the depths of his subconscious.

     *Oooo-kay...*  Ranma stood shakily, feeling light-headed and
slightly disoriented.  Clenching his fists just for the comfort
of his own seeming-solidness, he swallowed hard.  *That was
definitely a Bad Idea.*  He groaned aloud as he looked down at
his shaking hands.

     So.  His feline side liked the side-effects of being dead
even less than he did.  He berated himself silently for being so
stupid.  Of *course* he couldn't use the Nekoken - not when he
was... like this.  The Nekoken enhanced his physical senses;
helped him feel the world around him in a way that reached beyond
the blunt barriers of his humanity.  But when he didn't *have*
any physical senses to enhance...

     With a groan, Ranma slumped to the ground, frustrated,
frightened, and angry enough that he didn't even care that he
couldn't feel the earth beneath him.  What was he supposed to do
now?  *Arghhh!  Come on, you idiot, think!  There's *got* to be a
way out of this!*

     Unfortunately, nothing came readily to mind.

--------------------

     Akane couldn't believe it.

     She was finally home.

     Well, not really.  The Mountain of the Ancient One, in the
middle of the Chinese wilderness, actually.  But it was closer to
home than she'd been in a long time.

     Akane closed her eyes, lifted her tear-streaked face to the
sky, and took her first deep breath of mortal realm air for the
first time in five years...

     And nearly gagged.

     "Oh yuck," she gasped.  Her eyes flew open, and she looked
around quickly.  Sure enough, on the ground less then five meters
away from her was a large pile of dead demon.  The stench was
amazing.

     Her eyes widened as she looked at the twitching black mass
of flesh and ichor.  There was almost nothing recognizable left
of the creature, but she knew it immediately.  The battle scars
on her thigh and shoulder throbbed in remembrance.

     "Oh gods..." she whispered, stepping towards it in morbid
fascination.  "The Shadowcat."

     Incredible!  Ranma had completely *shredded* the feline
monstrosity!

     And, what's more, she could feel the presence of literally
hundreds of demons further down the mountain.  Her amazement
grew.  Ranma had gone through *that* to save her.

     Akane felt an elated smile spreading across her face.  Wow.
Ranma was just the *best!*

     She felt her heart pound quickly in anticipation.  He was
here, somewhere on the mountain.  It wouldn't be long, and then
she could see him, touch him...

     Oh gods, she had waited so long...

     And then she saw the blood.

     Actually, she had noticed it right from the start, from the
moment she had set foot in the mortal realm.  It had jumped out
to her trained instincts, and she couldn't help but notice it
because it was so obviously not demon blood since it just lay
there, glistening on the ground, rather than sizzling, bubbling
or steaming into the earth the way the Shadowcat's blood did.
But she had been hoping so hard that it was just her imagination,
that it might just... go away if she ignored the blood long
enough...

     A great dark pool of it, gleaming wetly in the starlight,
right in front of the Shadowcat's remains, and yet separate from
it.  A lot of blood, she realized.

     But it wasn't Ranma's.  It couldn't be, because that was a
*lot* of blood.  And so what if a trail of it led from the pool
over to the base of the dimensional weakness where he must have
sat as he spoke to her through the veil, his voice so weak and
tired...

     *...just a scratch.*

     *It's bad, isn't it.*

     *No.  Well... kinda."

     Oh gods.

     And now she could see how the trail of blood went from the
pool that had gathered at the base of the dimensional weakness,
up the narrow winding trail that wound up out of the mists
towards the peak of the mountain...

     "Ranma..."  she whispered.  

     And then the whisper became a scream.

--------------------

     "Ranmaaaaa..!"

     Ranma's head snapped up.  He froze, his eyes wide with
shock, unable to believe what he had just heard.

     Until he heard it again.

     "Ranmaaaa!  Where are you?"  The voice, anxious and tinged
with fear, floated up to him from further down the mountain, out
of the dark mists.

     Slowly, hesitantly, Ranma got to his feet.  "A... Akane?"
His voice was an incredulous whisper.

     "Please, Ranma, answer me!"

     It wasn't possible.  She couldn't be here, she was still in
the Kami Plane.  He had failed to save her, after all.  He had
failed to reach the Ancient One, he had failed to break the blood
spell so that she could...

     Ranma blinked.  Wait a minute...  The blood spell?

     He suddenly remembered the strange red mist that had seeped
out of his fallen body. 

     The blood spell.  It was broken.  His death had broken the
blood spell... and Akane was back.

     Akane was alive.  She was safe.  She was back.  The
realizations pulsed in Ranma's stunned mind, even as a tiny,
hesitant flicker of joy pierced the gloom of his melancholy...

     ... and then overwhelmed him completely.

     Joy.  *She's back.  Oh gods, she's finally back, I can't
believe it, she's back, I'll get to see her again, finally, it
seems like forever, oh man, what'll I say to her, she's back,
she's coming, she's coming, she's...*

     In the back of Ranma's blissfully stunned mind, a little
niggling detail that had been lost in the glorious ecstasy of the
moment, chose to abruptly penetrate the fog of his emotions.

     And Ranma's feelings of joy came to a screeching halt.

     Slowly, unwillingly, he turned and looked over his shoulder.

     There was his body, lying on the blood-soaked ground; glassy
blue eyes staring sightlessly from a pasty, lifeless face.

     Slowly, he looked back down into the mists.

     "Ranma!"  Her voice, anxious, and tinged with fear.

     Akane was back.  She was coming.  

     And he was dead.

     Ranma blinked.

     "Oh crap."

--------------------

End of Part Twenty-One

So... whaddya think, sirs?

Next time, in Part 22:  Heaven & Hell Part Two:
Ranma, and Akane, and Ranma & Akane, and Akane, and Ranma.  And
some other people(?) too.

Author's ramblings:

Dang, this chapter was hard to write!  Apart from struggling with
the worst case of writer's block I've ever experienced, those
opening scenes were a killer.  I couldn't decide which POV to use
- Ryoga's, Ukyo's, or Cologne's.  After wrestling mightily with
the decision for weeks, trying different scenes using each
character, I finally thought "Heck with it!  I'll use them all!
MWA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

I was fine with writing the Nabiki/Kuno scene until a friend of
mine said (paraphrasing) "Oh, I don't envy you *that* scene.
It's been done so many times."  Then I got stressed out.  :p

The final Ranma/Akane scenes were easy to write - not to mention
fun.  ^_^

And now, the *real* fun begins!  ^_^