A quick note: because this part is larger than the Hotmail composer can 
handle, it is being sent in two parts.

The story so far:

* Nemesis, Seiryu, and the Orochi Cult have been destroyed.
* Mousse is severely crippled, and is not expected to recover.
  However, as part of his punishment, he must remain alive.
* Shampoo is being punished by keeping Mousse alive or can't go home.
* Kodachi leaves school in protest.
* Ukyo is dead.

---------------------------------------------------------------
Dance of the Jade Dragon

  "So there you are," Nodoka Saotome exclaimed, standing in the
frame of the kitchen door, watching Ranma walk by slowly.
  "Yo, Mom," Ranma said in a bored manner.
  "That's no way for my son to behave," she told him. "Where have
you been all morning?"
  "Out," the son answered, hoping his mother would cease her prying.
  "Akane's been looking for you. I sent your father out to look for
you, too."
  Ranma remained silent as he continued his slow march.
  "She's been waiting for you... and so have I."
  I'm sure you have, he thought bitterly. Grandchildren my ass!
  Somehow he made his way to the living room, where Akane and Nabiki
sat on the floor, staring at the television with bored expressions.
Ranma did not bother to announce himself, choosing instead to throw
himself on the floor next to his wife.
  He lay there for several minutes, with only the sound of the
television to fill the air.
  "So where've you been?" Akane asked finally.
  "Ucchan's," he answered. "Where else?"
  "Ranma," Nabiki said, "you know what your problem is?" Not waiting
for an answer, she continued, "You're thinking too much. Go do
something else."
  Ranma ran his fingers through his hair. "Don't you think I've
tried?!"
  "Well, for five-hundred yen, I can take your mind off...." the
middle Tendo sister offered.
  "Go 'way," demanded Ranma. "Your fault, too."
  "Ranma...." Akane voiced, but no words formed on her lips.
  "Hah!" mocked Nabiki, standing to her feet. "You're going to
blame everyone else first, huh?!"
  "You MADE her do it!" countered Ranma.
  "Ranma, Ranma, Ranma," tsked Nabiki, waving a finger. "If it's
anyone's fault, it's YOURS."
  "NABIKI!!!" cried Akane.
  A smirk on her face, turning to leave, Nabiki stopped herself. She
produced an envelope from her pocket. "Oh, one more thing."
  "Whazzat?!" Ranma shot back.
  Nabiki tossed the envelope down at Ranma. "Kuno-baby sent it."
  Ranma grabbed the envelope, tearing it open as Nabiki exited the
room. What does that damn fool want now?
  Akane stared once at Ranma, then at Nabiki. Getting to her feet,
she chased after her older sister intently.
  Reading aloud, he said, "Saotome... not worth my time... I'm the
best...."
  Crumpling the letter, Ranma sat up, shouting, "WHAT IS THIS?!"

  Across town, lounging against the soft leather cushions that made
up his chair, setting down his copy of "The Tale of Genji" on the
mantle beside him, Tatewaki Kuno burst in laughter.

  "NABIKI!!" bellowed Akane, storming into her sister's room
unannounced.
  Nabiki sat at her desk, casting an unconcerned glance at Akane.
In her left hand she fumbled with a portable tape recorder, holding
it up as if it were sent from God. With her other hand the middle
Tendo sister carefully penned something on the clean sheet of
paper before her.
  "What're you doing?!" demanded the younger girl.
  "What do you mean?" Nabiki asked, feigning innocence.
  "You know what I mean!" Akane cried, fuming with anger. "Why're
you doing that to Ranma?"
  Nabiki shrugged, then continued writing. "Should keep him sharp."
  Violently, Akane, with hidden strength, turned the chair Nabiki
was seated on toward her, forcing her sister to stare into her
burning eyes.
  "Really," the elder girl said in a bored tone.
  "How would you like it if someone told you that when one of YOUR
friends died?" Akane said.
  "Oh, grow up," scoffed Nabiki. "Appealing to my humanity never
works."
  I'm starting to wonder if you even HAVE any humanity, Akane
thought angrily. "You didn't even cry when Mom died!"
  Though she would not show it, Nabiki admitted to herself that
those words stung. "If I spent my time crying my eyes out and feeling
sorry for myself, I wouldn't get much done now, would I? Hmmm?"
  "You don't CARE!"
  "You're taking all this death nonsense much too seriously."
  "How can you say that?! You...!"
  "Unlike you," interrupted Nabiki, "I am still in control."
  Akane threw her arms up in frustration. "I don't know you," she
said coldly.
  Nabiki watched Akane long enough for her to leave the room, then
pushed her chair back to the desk.
  You have no idea how wrong you are, Nabiki thought. You just have
no idea what you're doing. Without direction... lost in a sea of
emotion... drifting. SOMEONE has to do the tough work, and it
certainly isn't you. Nor is it Kasumi, nor Daddy. I know better.
  Which leaves only me.
  "Well," she said to herself aloud, "now to plan for the future."
  Thumbing the switches on the tape recorder, Nabiki rewound the
tape. After waiting several moments, she hit the play button,
uncaring at what point the tape started.
  Kasumi's ultra-sweet voice issued from the tiny speaker.
  It wouldn't do for Ranma or Akane to find out I have another
source of income, Nabiki thought. So glad Mr. Tokuyama was so
agreeable to market Kasumi's voice. So glad Kasumi was so
cooperative, if a bit unwitting about it.
  After all, money makes the world go 'round.

  Ranma sat all alone in the night, in the yard, when Akane found him.
  He stared up at the sky, gazing at the stars with his arms folded
across his chest, bearing a lost expression usually reserved for
Ryoga.
  "You okay?" asked Akane, seating herself at Ranma's side.
  Ranma sighed. "Sure... why not."
  "You haven't said anything," Akane said, "to me, or anyone else, and
you've gone out for hours at a time without telling anyone. You're
not the only one that's hurting."
  Ranma said nothing.
  "C'mon, Ranma," pleaded Akane, "you've got to say something!"
  "Something," he replied smartly.
  Trying her best to maintain her patience, she continued, "This
isn't like you!"
  "How am I supposed to be," Ranma answered finally, "after I watched
a friend die in my arms?"
  He turned to face Akane. "You don't get it, do ya? You just don't
understand! Do you have ANY idea what it feels like?!"
  "Of course I do!" yelled Akane, towering over Ranma with her
presence. "Ukyo was my friend, too!"
  "YOU didn't WATCH her die!!" Ranma screamed. "WHAT makes you think
you know how it feels?!"
  Turning away, lowering his tone, he continued, "you can't imagine
how HELPLESS I felt... how much I wanted to DO something! How much
I wanted to be in her place instead! She DID it to save me."
  "I've never lost anyone in my life before... I had no intention
of letting that happen... ever." Angrily, he turned back to Akane.
"So don't you tell me how I should feel!"
  "Fine, then!" Akane shot back, folding her arms. "Wallow in your
misery! See if I care!"
  "Leave me alone... all of you," demanded Ranma. "I don't need
your sympathy."

The Next Day

  "Oh, Shampoo!" Dr. Tofu exclaimed happily as he opened the front
door of his office. "What a surprise!"
  Shampoo nodded in greeting. "I come to ask old job back."
  "Your old job?" repeated Tofu, scratching his chin. "Oh, that's
right, you were an assistant. But, don't you already have a job?"
  "I need old job," insisted Shampoo. "Need place to stay when Great-
grandmother go back to China."
  "Well, then," Tofu said, adjusting his glasses, "I think I can
give you a hand, there. Come on in."
  The Chinese Amazon gestured a hand behind her. "I need also room
for Mousse."
  Tofu glanced behind Shampoo, surprised, finding the white-robed
martial artist lying in a litter. "Hey, what happened?"
  Shampoo avoided the question. "Need room for Mousse to recover.
Alone, quiet place, and no way to kill himself."
  The acupuncturist studied Shampoo carefully, trying to discern if
she was kidding or not. Giving up, he said, "Well, we'll see what
we can do."
  Extending a hand out, he said, "Welcome back."

  Ranma had no idea if he was at the right place.
  Earlier that morning Konatsu delivered the round-trip train ticket
to Ranma. The train left quite early, so, without telling anyone where
he was going, the young Saotome slipped out of the Tendo household.
  A few hours later he arrived at his stop, then followed the
directions Konatsu had provided, among other things. For a while Ranma
wondered if he was traveling the same path Ukyo had taken long before.
  The walls of the ramshackle house appeared in obvious need of
repair, as bits and pieces splintered outward threateningly. There
were quite a few places where the work of termites was visible, forcing
the marital artist to watch his step, lest he cave a wall on himself
or something. The front door was no more than another wall, Ranma
thought, only that there was a crudely-made hole at one end, probably
for opening and closing.
  He knocked, gently rapping his knuckles against the door.
  Seconds seemed to stretch for minutes.
  Maybe I got the wrong house? he wondered.
  And then, someone from behind the door shouted, "Who's there?!"
  Ranma had no idea what to say to the gruff-sounding voice, as he
had a good idea who it was, if memory served correctly. "Mr. Kuonji?"
  The man behind the door remained silent for a moment. "Yeah?"
  "I need to talk to you," Ranma forced himself to say, trying his
best to suppress his fear. "It's about your daughter... Ukyo."
  And then, the door slid open, wood grinding against wood harshly,
revealing the man Ranma remembered last seeing over ten years ago.
  Age had not treated Kuonji well, as he had gained some weight since
Ranma last remembered him. The older man's hair was cropped short
and neat, and a white headband ran around his head. His beard was
so strange that it looked like a row of spikes, each a deadly weapon.
And each pierced into Ranma's soul.
  "Spill it, kid," ordered Kuonji. "Like before, who're you?"
  Ranma swallowed. Rehearsing this conversation on the train hardly
helped at all.
  "Ranma Saotome," he said finally.
  Kuonji scratched his chin meaningfully. "Name's fami... oh! You're
that kid Ukyo used to play with."
  If Kuonji wanted to leave it at that, Ranma was all for it. "I... I
was asked to tell you myself, being her closest friend and all... and
I...."
  "Stop stuttering," suggested the older man, "and think before you
say something."
  Ranma took a deep breath, following the advice. Slowly, the rehearsed
words reformed in his mind. "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news,
but your daughter, Ukyo, is dead."
  Blunt, and to the point, he added to himself. Probably not the best
way to do it.
  Kuonji seemed to consider this for a moment, eyeing Ranma carefully
with skepticism. "Why don't you tell me more, kid." He stepped aside,
gesturing for Ranma to enter.
  Gulping, Ranma plunged forward into the Abyss.

  With a little help from the Chinese twins, Ling-ling and Lung-lung,
Shampoo finished moving her belongings from the restaurant to the
doctor's office in no time. Shampoo noticed that while the two girls
tended to treat her with scorn, she knew that in their eyes they
were sorry that she had to stay behind.
  Mousse lay in bed in the room next to Shampoo's, well away from
any equipment that could be deemed life threatening, especially to
the broken man, who would like nothing better than to end it. And
yet, as much as Shampoo would like to do it for him, she knew that
Mousse was her ticket home.
  Life plays many cruel ironies, she thought.
  Sitting on the mattress of her bed, Shampoo reached down under
the bed, wrapping her fingers around a cylindrical pole object. Slowly
she produced the metal trident that once belonged to Ukyo, the
spatula girl, and gazed at her distorted reflection in the polished
tri-pronged head.
  She had known many deaths in her youth... from the first warrior
she defeated in battle, to the numerous tribal skirmishes in the
Valley, to this recent one. And yet, only the latter seemed to hold
any meaning for Shampoo, for, unlike so many others who fell before
her, despite so many differences and conflicts, Ukyo was a name and
a face.
  Shampoo had no idea how the spatula girl died, but one thing was
for sure, there wasn't a body left to give a proper burial. A pity.
  Still, it was so nice to leave this fascinating weapon behind, she
thought. I'm sure she'd give it to me, if she knew.
  She slid a finger down the central prong, wondering how the blood
would spill down the terrible metal weapon.
  But, there seemed to be an imperfection when the finger reached
the point where the two side prongs met with the center. A small,
slight lump, undetectable to the naked eye... and yet, it was there.
  The imperfection, in a shape of a circle, seemed to glow an eerie
purple.
  Shampoo's eyes locked on the glow, mesmerized by the power she
glimpsed from it.
  "No," Shampoo whispered to herself, "not just a fine weapon. A
powerful weapon!"
  Yet, where did the spatula girl get it?
  The glow seemed to call to Shampoo, and the Chinese Amazon
responded, standing to her feet. "Yes," she said, "Everything's been
started. Wheels in motion... time... power... ambition... in motion."
  Her eyes glowed with the same dark purple. "It has begun!"

  For a long moment, Kuonji sat in cold silence, his chin resting
on his hands, sitting forward in his seat. Ranma shifted uncomfortably
in the worn couch he sat in, feeling almost a trickle of sweat beading
down the side of his head, waiting, perhaps fearing, what the older
man would say.
  Ranma had told the story, starting from the day Ukyo attacked his
father, to Konatsu's entrance into her life, to the weddings of
friends, to the King of Fighters tournament, and finally, to Ukyo's
noble sacrifice. And yet, Ranma had decorated as much as he could
possibly think of to make the girl's death all the more pleasant-
sounding. Kuonji, however, saw through the trick, and had insisted
that Ranma recite it exactly as it happened.
  Only the brooding man's stare made Ranma sure he was still alive.
  Old Kuonji opened his mouth to say something, but stopped,
nearly snapping nerves in Ranma's spine.
  "Kid," he said finally, "why do you think Ukyo would do something
like that?"
  "What?" Ranma exclaimed in surprise.
  "I'm serious, kid," insisted Kuonji. "You probably know more about
what she does than I do." He shook his head. "Kid, I've not had the
time to watch Ukyo grow up; she did it all herself, because she was
the only one she had. I am a working man, and work is my life. As far
as I know, work is her life, too. So, why would she go ahead and do
something like that?"
  Sighing deeply, the younger man gathered his thoughts. Considering
carefully, Ranma answered, "Honestly, you're giving me too much
credit; I really don't know."
  Kuonji raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" He leaned back, folding
his arms. "From what you've told me, it sounds as if Ukyo got tired
of living. Is that why you think she did it?"
  "Don't be ridiculous!" beamed Ranma, jumping to his feet. "She
did it because... because...."
  "If you didn't really know, then you wouldn't have jumped to her
defense like that," Kuonji pointed out. "So, why?"
  Damn, you're a tricky one, Ranma thought. No wonder where Ukyo
got it from.
  His surge of anger subsiding, Ranma wanted to turn and walk out
the door, but something inside him told him that Kuonji deserved an
answer. And yet, despite that thought holding him, the martial
artist could not think.
  "She died," he answered finally, "because I killed her!"
  "I don't know what to think about this spirit thing, but if what
everything you told me was true, then you didn't kill her."
  "What difference does it make?!" Ranma cried, feeling the tears
forming in his eyes. "There's no body because I destroyed it! She's
not coming back, because of me! And all I did was make it worse!"
  "Why don't you go back to your loved ones?" suggested Kuonji,
remaining calm despite his discomfort. "They can help you through
this better than I can."
  "They don't understand," the younger man replied, "because they
didn't have to kill their friends. We can't even give her a decent
burial... there's not even ashes!"
  "Like I said," Kuonji said, "I don't know what to believe about
these spirit things, so if you think she'll wander the Earth for an
eternity, why don't you have a party?"
  Ranma lunged at Kuonji in anger and confusion, grabbing the older
man's shirt. "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!"
  "I meant a remembrance!" added Kuonji, struggling to speak. "You
should celebrate her life!! Now, let go!"
  Regaining his senses, Ranma released Ukyo's father. He turned his
back, trying to hide the conflicting emotions washing over his face.
"Celebrate her life?" he repeated slowly, to himself.
  "Kid," Kuonji said, "when my wife died, so long ago, I didn't
know what to do. All I had left was Ukyo, and parents to take care of.
All I had was that. Being so alone. Now, what you should be doing, is
stop being alone."
  Ranma did not answer.
  "When she was growing up, Ukyo most feared being left alone. It was
great enough that I had to take her everywhere I went. Well, she had
the right idea; when we were together, we weren't alone. We both got
what we wanted. We shared happy times. We suffered. But it was always
together."
  Ranma shook his head, balling his fists. "Mr. Kuonji," he said,
"the rest of Ukyo's belongings will be coming here shortly. Konatsu's
taking care of it."
  He turned to face the man once more. "I'm sorry, again."
  Kuonji nodded, getting to his feet. Quietly, he lead Ranma back to
the front door, sliding it open. The wood, again, protested against
the floor, ruining the silence.
  "You take care of yourself," Kuonji said, as Ranma walked out the
door.
  Ranma looked back over his shoulder as he continued. "Sure."
  But, before he could walk out the gates, the martial artist stopped
in his tracks. He reached into his pocket, then turned around.
  "Hey!" he cried, raising the earring Ukyo had given him into the
air. "I forgot to give you this!"
  Kuonji's eyes narrowed, focusing on the green dragon earring,
remembering it since Ukyo had demonstrated she still had them in her
possession. He called, "She gave you that?"
  The young Saotome nodded, starting his way back to the door.
  But the older man shook his head. "Hang on to it, kid," he insisted.
"If my girl gave you that, then there's got to be a reason. It was
hers to give away when I gave them to her."
  Ranma sighed. "Yeah, sure."
  He brought the dragon earring to eye level, turning it in the
light of the sun, studying it, almost expecting it to give him the
answers to everything. Yet, the dragon seemed to say, "Remember,"
and still it did not speak. It stunk of Ukyo's lingering presence.
  Ukyo, Ranma thought, you're really something.
  Pocketing the earring, Ranma turned to leave.

  He had no idea that Ranma had left Nerima altogether, but that
hardly mattered in the long run for Tatewaki Kuno.
  Carefully, he penned his latest gloating letter, adjusting the
wording in order to create the greatest effect.
  While this sort of revenge was slow in coming, and slow to result,
Tatewaki learned a good deal of patience in recent events. And now,
the greatest revenge of all would be the subtle of revenges.
  One letter written every day, and delivered to Ranma Saotome, was
good enough a revenge as any to carry out on the craven coward, the
swordsman thought.

(see part 2)

----------------------------------------------------------
If you're [un]lucky, you earn a place in my .sig!

* "[Y]ou're lamer than your signature and screen name indicate."--Chris 
Davies
* "There was a recent case where a fanfic author put together his work with 
only another fanfic serving as his primary resource.  *I* started writing 
fanfiction that way, and consequently I never grew attached to this whole 
idea of remaining true to the original.  I call it "correction."--Reverend 
Prez

--Razorclaw X
Author: "The Wheel of Fire", "The World's Worst Ranma Fanfic!", "The 
Geometry of Shattered Souls", "The Balance of Power".
"I sold my soul to buy a copy of the dubbed 'Ukyo Can Cook'"
"Decepticons Forever!"


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