Not much of a title, true, and I apologise....
Written hastily, and in a fit on what should
probably be considered insomnia. Ah well, at
least I can sleep today since I work tonight...
small graces.... :)
	I suppose this is probably a good
example of why you should take your time to
think things through, and also to not write/post
after until you've had a chance to go through it,
but I've not ever really let that stop me before....
Let it not be said that I am a slave to common sense!
^_^
	Comments and criticisms are appreciated.
(one day I'll probably give this idea/story the full
attention it deserves. Until then though, well, it
is something for you to think about, I suppose)


Ranma 1/2 is the creation of Rumiko Takahashi,
dears, and not mine. I have no rights to it at
all, not that I'm letting something as petty
as laws and any potential moral or ethical 
questions stop me from doing this non-profit
piece, purely for interest's sake. :)





Some time ago, in China:

    "Mu Tsu! You're using a weapon! You know we don't rely on
weapons!" the elder shouted.

    Mu Tsu sheepishly tried to hide the staff behind his back, but,
owing to his small size (being only four or five, most likely) and
the size of the staff, this was a losing proposition.

    "Why not?" Mu Tsu asked defiantly.

    "The women use weapons, we do not, it is not our way."

    In reality, the elder was not so old. Older than Mu Tsu,
certainly, but maybe twenty-two, twenty-four, tops. Still, when one
is four or five, there is an insurmountable gap in age. Mu Tsu's
elder, then, and trainer as well, as he trained all the boys at the
village.

    "Why not? She beat me, and she uses weapons."

    The elder looked at Mu Tsu with a strange look in his eye, and
then suddenly appeared behind Mu Tsu. Not teleportation, not some
secret technique to cloak his presence or move without being seen,
just pure, raw speed. A result of training the body, part of the
physical regimen and nothing more. The young man, no hair on his
head, nor on his face, took the staff from Mu Tsu casually, and
held it in his hands, while a strange, contemplative look covered
his face.

    "This is a good weapon, Mu Tsu. A fine weapon. But if you rely
on a weapon, Mu Tsu," the man shrugged. A brief tensing of muscles,
and the snapping sound of wood, then the staff was now two smaller
ones. "Weapons break." He dropped the two halves onto the ground
and pointed at Mu Tsu. "Train yourself. Make yourself into
something you can rely on, and you will never need to use a weapon
and will find it only hampers your effectiveness."

    The young man turned and walked away-- lessons to be planned
and other children to teach. Mu Tsu looked at the broken weapon and
thought about his teacher's words. Neither changed the fact that
Shan Pu used weapons, and that she beat him.

In the now, in China:

    "Bring him back, show him the error of his ways," the elders
commanded, and several of them _did_ have beards, though many did
not, and as many had grey hair as had no hair on their heads,
though none of it was long. Each man had been fit and spry,
regardless of their ages which went from middle-age and soared to
that of Cologne or beyond. 

    "And if he does not comply?" asked the man who once trained Mu
Tsu and was now in his early to mid thirties and still in the same
exceptional shape as before.

    "You know the laws. No exceptions."

    The now middle-aged man nodded and left for Japan, where they
knew Mu Tsu currently was.

In the now, in Nerima:

    You want to know what Purgatory is? A glimpse, or maybe just a
taste of heaven while you are in Hell. Worse than Hell, in a way,
because in Purgatory there was hope that it would end, eventually.
Hope? That sounds good, doesn't it? but when that hope is
continually proven fruitless, time and time again, then it
eventually sours and proves painful. This realisation is the stuff
cynics are made of.
    So in the Nekohanten, Mousse polished the table until even he
could see his face in it. A bad job, with bad pay and even worse
treatment. Benefits package? not bloody likely. The only benefit
was that he got to be near Shampoo, got to at least attempt to win
her over to him. Of course, Mousse had no real chance with Shampoo,
not even if Ranma was somehow taken out of the picture; this had
been made clear by Shampoo time and time again, for a very long
time. Mousse, however, still hoped. Congradulations, Mousse, you
are in Purgatory.

In the now, in Nerima:

    "Ranma! Get back here!" Ryouga shouted, chasing Ranma down the
street. 

    "Can't pig! Ain't got time to play! Gotta go get something for
Kasumi," Ranma called back cheerfully, increasing the distance
between them.

    A hand reaches out casually and grabs Ranma as he runs by. The
hand is, of course, attached to a person. Ryouga manages to lose
track of Ranma and takes a wrong turn somewhere.  "You are, Ranma?
Ranma Saotome?" a sing-sing voice asks. 

    From the tone of voice, it is quite obvious that the speaker's
native language is not Japanese, probably some form of Chinese. The
man, extremely fit, from what could be seen of him, wore somewhat
loose pants, white, and a simple flowing shirt, also white,
untucked. Flat face and impassive eyes denied the few lines and
wrinkles that had started to crop up, which only served to enhance
the appearance of stone he projected. Clean shaven and bald, the
man had the feel of some kind of monk or priest.

    "Who's askin'?" Ranma replied, taking the man's hand off his
person.

    "You may call me," the man paused for a moment and thought,
reflectively. "Xue. Yes, as apt a description as any, I suppose."

    "That not your real name or something?" Ranma peered
suspiciously at Xue.

    Xue's impassive face looked horrified for a second before he
explained, "No. We do not give out our true names to people. It is
considered... unseemly as well as unwise."

    "Ah," Ranma nodded sagely, not really understanding at all.

    "I am told that you might know where Mu Tsu, or Shan Pu are. I
need to talk to Mu Tsu, you see."

    Ranma looked at Xue, trying to evaluate the man but coming up
blank. "Why you want to talk to him?"

    "I need," Xue said, his soft, almost bird-like voice calm and
sure like Ranma had never seen or heard before, "to convince him to
come back."

    "Come back?"

    "To our village, our people, our way."

    "You're Joketsuzoku?"

    The man laughed. "Do I look like a woman?" he asked. "No, we
are not Amazons."

    Ranma looked confused. "I thought that Mousse and Shampoo came
from--."

    "Shan Pu, yes. Mu Tsu, no. They grew up together though,
obviously."

    "I'll take you to the Nekohanten. Shampoo and th' old ghoul,
er, Cologne, own it. Mousse works there. I'm kinda hungry, anyway.
You wanna wait for a sec? I gotta give this," Ranma held up a small
brown paper bag, filled with, well, filled with something, anyway,
"to Kasumi. Won't take long."

    "Fair enough," Xue acquiesced.

Some time ago, in China:

    Mu Tsu practiced his katas. No one was around, he could not
hear nor smell anyone hiding, and there was no signs of movement. 

    Good.

    Perfect.

    Out of a sleeve came a dagger, then a second, and finally a
third. Another motion and the sharp knives were back, hidden
underneath his shirt. 
    Shan Pu uses weapons.
    Shan Pu also wins against Mu Tsu, who does not.
    Ergo using weapons is superior.
    Problem is that using weapons is not allowed. Mu Tsu would be
punished if he was caught using weapons.
    Solution: don't get caught using weapons. Hide them. If no one
sees them, then he cannot get caught.

In the now, in Nerima:

    The front door opens and the bell above it announces the fact
to Mousse and anyone else who might be in back, or behind the
counter, as the case might be for one person.

    "Nihao!" Shampoo greeted cheerfully, popping up from behind the
counter and beaming a smile at the new entrant.

    "You are Shan Pu, yes?" the man, Xue, spoke in Mandarin. The
same accent of the area Shampoo grew up in, in fact. 

    Shampoo nodded. 

    "You have the look of your ancestors, so I am told. Mu Tsu is
here?" Xue said, still in Mandarin. 

    "Who are you, and why do you want to talk to Mousse?" Shampoo
replied in the same language.

    "What're you guys sayin'? Can't understand ya," Ranma
interjected.

    "It is not your concern, Ranma Saotome, but it would be
impolite to peak in front of you in a language you do not
understand," Xue said, switching back to Japanese.  

    Xue turned back to Shampoo. "I have come to take Mu Tsu back to
the old ways. Back to the village if necessary."

    Shampoo eyed Xue carefully. "You are...?"

    "He is--" Mousse started to say, appearing from the door to the
kitchen.

    "Quiet! Even if you disgrace yourself and forget our ways, I do
not!" Xue barked at Mousse. "You will know me as Xue. It is an
apporpriate enough name. I teach the children our ways."

    "I can't go back yet, not until I have Shampoo," Mousse said.

    "It is because you have forsaken our ways that you cannot get
her, Mu Tsu. You do not fight like a man, but use a woman's ways,"
Xue said.

    "What do you mean?" Ranma asked, curious.

    "He uses weapons," Xue snorted. "A true man does not need a
weapon, not when he has hands and feet. We have our bodies and our
training, that is as much a weapon as we ever need."

    Xue looked at Ranma, who nodded. "You agree?"

    "A weapon just limits you. If you have it, you want to use it,
and it leaves you less options."

    "I see that perhaps we are not the only ones who walk the True
Path," Xue mused.

    "You do not walk the True Path at all," Cologne croaked out,
appearing from the back of the restaurant on her staff.

    "This is not your business, Joketsuzoku. I am here to reclaim
Mu Tsu, and not to debate with you."

    "Good! Take him! He is a worthless fool and I let him stay and
work out of the kindness of my heart!"

    "I will not leave the side of my darling Shampoo!" Mousse
announced.

    Shampoo watched the conversation silently, without expression.

    "I never said you had to do that. I am here to ensure that you
return to the old ways, the better ways, and not to bring you
back."

    "But I can't do that either. This," Mousse raised an arm and
the weighted end of a chain slid out, "is the only chance I have.
Your ways don't work. She beat me back then," he said in a small,
almost child-like voice.

    "That is because our ways are superior!" Cologne crowed.

    "If they are so superior, why is it you learn ours?" Xue
countered. "Your way is to use weapons. The path of the crutch and
the shackles, Joketsuzoku. Our way is infinitely better. We stand
on our own two feet. We rely on ourselves, not on a weapon." Xue
snorted. "Joketsuzoku have learned a few of our easier techniques
and training methods to bolster themselves."

    "Pfaugh," Cologne scoffed. "You do not even know how to use
your ki."

    "To throw blasts or manipulate the environment around you? A
nil-sum game, Joketsuzoku. We know that drains you more than it is
worth. Why use it to lift a rock when you can pick the rock up with
your hand?" Xue turned to Mousse. "Do you see? Properly trained,
they could never beat us, and if you wanted to, you could take the
one you wanted the traditional way."

    Mousse shook his head, though he hesitated a moment before
doing so. "No. I know that is not true, not for me at least."

    
In the now, in Nerima:

    "--so I said that he could stay here for a couple little bit,"
Ranma finished explaining to Soun and Genma.

    Xue bowed greatly once more at the two masters of Anything Goes
and in his quiet and calm sing-song voice said, "I thank you for
your hospitality. I will endeavour to keep any disturbance I might
cause a minimum."

    "Besides," Ranma added too casually, belying the glint in his
eyes, "he's supposed to hold a lot of the techniques of his
village, of which only a few the Amazons know."

    "We have not protested that they are turning towards our path,
breaking the agreement, because they take only the least of our
techniques."

    Genma and Soun looked back and forth. Soun opened his mouth,
about to talk about the expenses of another houseguest, mainly
food, when Genma nudged his friend. "Perhaps," Genma said, "we can
use this to our advantage. If he knows techniques even more
powerful than the ones Cologne knows, then the Master...."

    "The Master wouldn't stand a chance! Brilliant, Saotome!" Soun
completed Genma's thought, shouting it out.

    "I will be happy to train those who wish to follow the True
Path," Xue said. "Your son shows promise, Genma Saotome. You have
the proper attitude towards weapons."

    "Oh," Genma said, puffing up with pride. 

    Xue nodded. "A weapon may be a fine tool, may have superb
craftsmanship, but it is only as good as the wielder of it. And
what if you are without a weapon? What if it breaks? What would you
do then?" Xue shook his head. "No, we know that the true way is to
train the body and the mind, so that we do not need weapons."


In the now, in Nerima:

    "What Mousse going to do?" Shampoo asked, hovering around the
near-blind boy as he finished polishing a table.

    "Go on to the next table, Shampoo. Why? Did you want to go out
with me?"

    Shampoo frowned slightly. "Silly duck. Want to know what you do
about Xue. Why he pick that name anyway?"

    "He explained that, my love. Xue teaches the boys how to fight.
That is of central importance, so he is the blood of the village,
in a way."

    Shampoo nodded. "Still didn't answer question."

    Mousse shrugged. "Don't know."

    Shampoo nodded and was about to leave when Cologne popped up
from seemingly nowhere. "Where are you going?"

    "Going to see Ranma, great-grandmama."

    "No you're not. You are to stay away from Xue, and the Tendo
place as long as Xue is there," Cologne pronounced with finality.
"I will not have you listening to his crazy ideas."

    Shampoo slumped her head disconsolately and turned away from
the door. "Yes, great-grandmama."


In the now, in Nerima:

    Ranma and Xue sat cross-legged on the floor, facing each other
and with their hands resting on their knees, palm up.

    "So," Ranma began, "Why does Mousse use weapons?"

    "That," Xue began, "is what I wish to understand. Once, when
Mousse and Shampoo were much younger, he challenged her to a
fight-- a childhood infatuation which he should have grown out of
by all rights. A marriage fight cannot occur until they both come
of age, after all. She won, through a fluke or something, perhaps.
Mousse was never the most attentive of my students.
    "Instead of stepping up his studies, he abandoned them started
to use weapons. When he was found out, instead of stopping, Mousse
merely hid the weapons, so that no one could see them." Xue shook
his head. "I am here to bring him back to the True Path."

    "And what about me?"

    "New men, as long as they follow the Path of the Body, are
welcomed. Why should we not welcome and teach our brothers?"

    "But what if Mousse don't change?"

    "Then he will die," Xue said simply and then stood up.


In the now, in Nerima:

    Xue entered the Nekohanten. Mousse was in back, chopping up
some vegetables, but Cologne noticed Xue come in.

    "Get out!" Cologne screeched. 

    "I don't take orders from Joketsuzoku," Xue said with a sneer
in his voice.

    "Mousse," Cologne called back, "get out here!"

    Mousse complied with Cologne's order.

    Xue looked Mousee over. "I ask you again. Do you give up the
way of the weapon? Will you follow the True Path?"

    Mousse shook his head. "I am better with these," he lifted his
arm, the sleeve laden with weapons, "than without, and you can't
convince me otherwise."

    Xue shook his head sadly. "Do you know the penalty? You will
die, Mousse." Xue turned around. "I will give you fourteen days and
fourteen nights to rethink your position, and if you do not? I will
do what I must do, regardless of any regret I will have."

    Xue spun of the ball of his foot and left. Mousse blinked
mopically at Xue's retreating figure.

    Upon leaving the Nekohanten, Xue walked around Nerima. A boy
with a bokken came by. A girl in a leotard, wielding a ribbon. A
boy using an umbrella and thrown bandannas which could cut through
wood. A girl with spatulas, some thrown and a large one on her
back. What was it about this place that made everyone want to use a
weapon? Couldn't they see that they were limiting themselves?


Since time immemorial, in China:

    "It is time for the annual combat," the leaders of the village
announced. "Go to the Village of Bachelours, and go to the
Joketsuzoku village, and tell them that it is time to nominate
their warriors," they told two younger couples.

    The leaders, an equal amount of men and women, satisfied that
the duty was being carried out, went back to their houses, to their
children and their friends, wondering how many others would be man
and wife this year.


In the now, in Nerima:

    "In fourteen days, regardless of the outcome, my business here
will be concluded," Xue told Soun.

    Soun nodded. Xue was no trouble. "I have been meaning to ask
you, something about the Amazon laws," Soun said, looking out on
the porch, straight at a lounging Ranma as he did so.

    Xue noticed the direction of Soun's gaze. "I have heard that
Ranma defeated Shan Pu in combat."

    "Yes, it only applies to outsiders, right?"

    Xue laughed. "Of course! There are no men in that village! Only
women!"

    "I don't understand."

    Xue blinked. "Then I shall explain. There are three villages.
In one, there are married couples, and those who do not wish to
learn how to fight. No one is forced to learn, but in the area we
live, it is prudent to learn.
    "In another village live unmarried men. Our warriors, every
single one of them, excpet those training to be martial artists, or
those training others to be martial artists. I train."

    "And in the third village," Soun caught on, "are the women
martial artists."

    "The weapon users," Xue agreed. "We have different styles. Long
ago, we men realised the folly of weapons and found other ways. The
women kept their swords and staves and spears.
    "And so one day each year, men from our village fight against
women of their village, to test each other's strength. Also, if a
man wins, he is allowed marry the woman he beats. Those who do not
win are not allowed that year."

    Soun nodded. "It makes sense now. But you are not married,
why?"

    "There is no one I wished to marry. I do not participate in
these fights-- it is purely voluntary. I only wish to teach the
next generation, and I already do that. If I were to marry, I would
have to leave and liv with the other married couples, and would not
be able to teach again until my wife died and I moved back to the
Village of Bachelours, assuming I did not pass on before she did."

    Soun lit a cigarette and grunted a reply.


At the end, in Nerima: 

    "Mu Tsu, your two weeks are over. What is your answer?" Xue
demanded, standing in the Nekohanten for the last time.

    Mousse was in front of Xue, with Cologne watching intently from
the sidelines and Shampoo close behind Mousse. Ranma came along, as
well as Akane, taking up positions behind Xue, but clearly as
witnesses and nothing more.

    "I...." Mousse shook his head. "I can't, Xue. Weapons make us
strong."

    "They make you weak!" Xue thundered, the first time since he
arrived in Nerima. "They make you weak, and they make you dead." A
sigh. "Very well, you made your choice. You are dead."

    "What!"

    "You are dead. You are no longer one of us, no longer part of
our society. I will tell your family and friends this. Do not come
back, apparition." 

    Xue turned his back on Mousse and began to walk out of Nerima,
but before he did so, he paused by Ranma. "You are the only one
that I have noticed here in two weeks that tries to follow the True
Path. If you wish, you, your father, and perhaps Soun Tendo since
he uses the same style, would be welcome additions to the Village
of Bachelours." Xue left the Nekohanten then, beginning his journey
back to his students in China.

    Mousse blinked and adjusted his glasses. Ranma and Akane left.
Cologne went back to the kitchen, as did Shampoo to help her. The
tables were dirty. Mousse got out a rag and began to clean them.


				Khattam shud



Okay, now, here's a couple of comments on it. Some issues that I
think probably need addressing.
1. A relatively weak story. The idea, that of the title, is not
big enough or detailed out enough to carry a whole story, and
while there are possibilities of something more (where was Mousse's
inner turmoil, for instance? What was that about him polishing
the tables all the time and that bit about purgatory or his impaired
vision? Those things never went anywhere, and they could have done
so much more!)
2. The explanations are too expository. Quite contrived and lecturing
in tone. In other words, presented in a boring fashion. If they could
be brought into the fic, instead of being pointed out in such a 
glaring fashion....
3. Check for typos and spelling errors. Did I switch spellings of
names part way through, for instance, or switch from an American
spelling to my usual Commonwealth spelling?
	Well, those are problems I think this story needs to address.
What about you? (and they say that C&C is a lost art.... ^_- )
    

Author's ramble (or, "Hey, let's see what Matt's mind comes up
with when it's tired!):

    It occurs to me that there might be other possible ways that
the system of government and the society which Mousse, Cologne and
Shampoo come from might be different than the usual portrayal.
    I theorised another way, which does not seem to contradict
anything I have found or heard about in the manga, but never found
a way to fit it into a story, nor build a story around it. Then one
day, I did. I am not saying that this is the way it is, but that,
well, it is a possibility. It could explain a thing or two, such as
why when Ranma popped up in Shampoo's village during the
tournament, therer were no men to be seen, for instance. I am not
saying that this is the way to look at it, only that other ways
exist, and to use the same one, over and over again, it seems
repetitive and somewhat boring and lacking in creativity, wouldn't
you say?
    I like new ideas. I like finding different ways of looking at
things, regardless of whether or not I agree with that view. I do
not like sameness, I do not want that. I do not want people to say,
"Oh, another story by Matt. Well, x, y, and z will happen and a, b,
and c will be some of the themes in it," without even needing to
look at the story. I've made that statement before, without even
looking at the tagline or title of the story with some, and do you
know what? I was right. What do you think one of the reasons,
beyond that I do not really have another idea for it, that I have
no intention of doing another Soul of Ice story? and yet, even
those similarities have extenuating circumstances to them, I hope,
being based on a different decision made.
    So even if we perhaps talk about the same things, let's do it
in a different way. Let us perhaps change our style a bit, our
narrator, our view, our themes or symbols a bit. Let us look at it
with new eyes, shall we?




Matthew Lewis is:
	Matt on IRC
	Sojiro_Seta on Kawaiimuck
	maybeso@ican.net
	a casualty of causality
____________________________________________________________

	"Khattam-Shud," he said slowly, "is the Arch-Enemy
of all Stories, even of Language itself. He is the Prince of
Silence and the Foe of Speech. And because everything ends,
because dreams end, stories end, life ends, at the finish
of everything we use his name. 'It's finished,' we tell one
another, 'it's over. Khattam-Shud: The End.'"

	-excerpted from Haroun and the Sea of Stories,
		by Salman Rushdie
____________________________________________________________