================================================================
Twilight of the Dead
A Ranma/Day of the Dead crossover 

by James Epnett
================================================================

Authors Notes: I hope this chapter is a little
longer than the last. Each chapter has been around
10 pages, with the exception of the Prologue.

There is one thing -- if you see the name of a new
character, don't panic -- none of them have been
used before and are being created from scratch to
back up THIS storyline. 

Something I should also mention -- the "Bakusei
Tensatsu" is a variation of the "Bakusai Tenketsu".
They aren't the same thing. I thought I would just
make sure no one confuses them. The Bakusei
Tensatsu is used on organic material, unlike the
normal Breaking Point.

As always, C&C wanted, weather it be suggestions,
comments, flames, or MSTs. And if anyone can think
of a better title for Chapter 3 (currently known as
The Funeral and the Exploding Cadaver) let me know.
I only named it this because this chapter covers a
funeral and an attack on Ryoga by a zombie. 

WARNING: This story is dark and may contain graphic
scenes of violence and strong language. You have
been warned.


================================================================

Chapter 3 - The Funeral and the Exploding Cadaver


Ryoga Hibiki was a broken man. Now, he never let
this show when he was around the people he knew,
but it was true. It was starting to get to him, in
a big way. 

	Still, he couldn't REALLY complain, not
really. After all, he was still alive. Many would
say he should thank the gods. 

	'What gods?' is how he would, and had on more
than one occasion, answered. What kind of gods
would allow such a thing to destroy their creation?
How could they let this happen? There was no logic
behind it, and what little faith he had once
possessed was no more, washed away in the stream of
time. 

	He decided his fate, not the so called gods.
He would keep himself alive, and would depend on no
one but himself. 

	Of course, that's how he had always lived his
life -- depending on himself. The only draw back
was his direction impairment, for like of a better
description. He HAD to count on other people in
order to find his way -- That or wander around
aimlessly until he found what he was looking for. 

	He never would have admitted it, but he was
quite tired of wandering. He wanted to settle down,
to live a 'normal' life. For years, he had
concentrated on destroying his once longtime rival,
Saotome Ranma. But now, the pathetic feud started
by the theft of bread was pointless. There was no
need for it, and he knew from experience that
conflict between humans meant domination by the now
active dead. 

	He felt overwhelmed suddenly at the idea. He
had never really let it truly sink in. 

	//I was waiting to wake up,\\ he thought,
//that's why it never truly sank in. And now look
where I am -- alone.\\ 

	Ryoga sighed as he continued down the
abandoned street towards the heart of Tokyo. He
didn't know exactly where he was, but he DID know
he was no longer in Nerima. 

	His feet made a dull thunk on the asphalt
surface of the road he continued down, echoing out
through the death-like silence of the greater Tokyo
area. He looked around himself in the blackness of
night. The stars and the moon provided what little
illumination existed in the area. 

	The odd burning vehicle, building, or other
object also provided a small amount of light, and
in some way, security. He always felt safer during
the day, when he could see everything around him.
The number of Flesh Stalkers, as he had so
tentatively named them, were so scarce, but when
they did appear, he knew to expect either one on
its own or a large group. Unless they got lost from
the group, they always remained in packs, like
animals. 

	He didn't understand why they stayed out of
sight. Maybe they understood the danger that living
people actually posed. Ryoga shook his head. It was
a preposterous thought, he decided. Flesh Stalkers
didn't think -- they only killed. They reminded him
of sharks, in a way. They don't think before they
eat -- they simply attack in a savage, bestial
manner, tearing at their victims with their jaws,
and ripping them to pieces. 

	Ryoga knew that if the world ever did return
to normal, which he seriously doubted, the most
brutal, vicious murder scene wouldn't phase him a
bit. 

	He remembered a time where the sight of a
person's innards would have caused him to bleed
profusely from the nose and pass out, almost
sending him into seizure. But not anymore -- he had
seen too many people fall at the hand's of the
Flesh Stalkers. They weren't too cleanly when they
devoured a person alive, and he remembered how the
sight of the creatures feeding had almost caused
his own death. But he was a survivor, and he would
be damned if he made a stupid mistake....

	Ryoga cried out in surprise as he felt his
foot jar abruptly, and suddenly the ground was
rushing up to meet him.      

	His face hit the asphalt hard. His vision
flash white and a surge of pain rushed through his
face, causing him to bite down on his tongue -
hard. 

	He growled to himself and then groaned as the
pain fully registered in his brain, causing his
muscles to tense, and a new pain throbbed through
his left leg. He lay on the ground for a moment,
his eyes squeezed shut tightly. 

	As they finally opened, he could see a sharp,
jagged piece of an old bumper laying several inches
in front of him. Had he taken another step before
falling.... 

	Ryoga cursed and rolled over, looking down
towards his feet. His pants leg had been ripped to
shreds and he could see a light crimson dripping
from within the torn fabric. It splotched down onto
the dirty ground, forming a small puddle. 

	He reached down and ran his hand down across
his leg until he felt what had caused his fall. His
finger tips trailed over a thick thread of razor
wire. He flinched as his thumb caused the wire to
dig deeper into the already deep wounds on his leg.

	"Wonderful," Ryoga said, clenching his fist
in agitation. "Just wonderful."

*	*	*

	It was overpowering -- A sent that beckoned
to its senses. Instinct was all that it felt, and
that instinct was the driving force to its
insatiable hunger and thirst.

	On a conscious level, pain did not register.
Only an unappeasable driving force. It no longer
knew of its old world, or the life that had
possessed it. 

	The hunger had to stop. Its only priority --
to appease the hunger and thirst. It had to feed,
and feed it would. 

	Its prey was close, very close. It was
injured and in distress. It would play a key role
in fulfilling the hunger, because that's all that
mattered now. 

*	*	*

	Ranma stood silently next to the coffin that
had been placed in the top floor lobby of the
Square Soft building. It would be closed casket, of
course. There probably wasn't enough left of the
decides to open the box...

	He looked down at it and shook his head.
Daisuke and Hiroshi had brought the news of the
most recent death to him, directly from Tofu. 

	According to Daisuke, Tofu had insisted that
he be the first besides them to be informed. He
didn't really care, it was still a great loss to
his team.

	He had formed the Tokyo Defensive shortly
after the crisis had begun, which had consisted of
all of the greatest fighters still living in the
greater Tokyo area. They would patrol and make sure
that all was well. 

	But recently, members had been dropping like
flies, and Ranma didn't like it. Not only were his
friends and team dying off too quickly, but with
them went the hopes of the people who lived around
them. 

	"Ranma?" 

	Ranma snapped suddenly from his thoughts and
looked up. He turned his head to look behind
himself. He said the first and only thing to come
to his mind, "Hello." 

	Sheri, an exchange student from America and
one of Akane's old classmates, walked slowly up to
the casket. She looked down at it for a moment, and
then up at Ranma. The slender blonde blinked, her
light blue eyes glazed by soft tears. "How are you
holding up?"

	"I'm okay," Ranma replied, looking from Sheri
back at the coffin. He sighed and lowered his head.
"It's all fallin' apart, Sheri."

	Sheri shook her head and forced a smile.
"You're doing your best, Ranma. That's all any of
us can expect."       
	   
	"I know how close you and Konatsu had
become." Ranma placed his hand on the coffin and
glanced down at the picture of the late ninja. "He
took Ukyo's death really hard. You were there for
em."

	Sheri only shook her head, fighting back
tears that burned annoyingly at her eyes. "He never
stopped loving Ukyo. We were close, but not... Not
how I would have liked." She looked down at the
photo of Konatsu and could suddenly hold it no
more. She let the tears flow freely. "Oh god... I
miss him..."

	Ranma glanced from the coffin up at Sheri. He
pulled a face and tried to sound comforting. "Come
on, Sheri, there ain't no use cryin'." He slapped
himself mentally at his exorbitant lack of tact. 

	Sheri looked up at Ranma, her face pulled
back in a weird twist of emotion as tears trailed
down her cheeks. 

	Ranma frowned and said, "I mean, er, don't
cry. It'll be okay." He moved a step closer and
wrapped an arm around her shoulder in a rather
awkward motion. //Aw jeez,\\ he thought, looking
down at Sheri, //I ain't no good at this.\\

	Sheri suddenly clung to the fabric of Ranma's
formal tai-chi uniform, burying her head in his
shoulder to cry.

	"Cut it out, you're gunna ruin the material."
Ranma almost literally punched himself for that
one.

	"Hmm?" Sheri cried into his shoulder. 

	//Thank the gods,\\ Ranma thought, sighing in
relief. 

	"Nothin'." He looked around the room
searchingly. He could see Tofu standing over near
the door of the room as people entered.

	In one of the many rows of chairs, Ranma
could see a distressed Kasumi sitting next to a
somber Soun. He rose his hand in the air and swung
it around a bit. 

	Kasumi, who had been looking in the general
direction of the casket, noticed the erratic
swinging of Ranma's arm. She reached up and wiped a
small stream of fluid from her cheek and stood,
trying to regain some composure before heading
towards Ranma.

	Ranma sighed in relief and reached up to pat
the back of Sheri's head, whispering, "It'll be all
right, Sheri." 

	Kasumi stopped next to her two minors and
looked between them, forcing a smile. Yes, Ranma?"

	Ranma pointed at Sheri and mouthed the words
'Give me a hand.'   

	Kasumi only nodded and rested a hand on
Sheri's shoulder. "Sheri, dear?" 

	Sheri pried her face from Ranma's shoulder
and looked up at Kasumi, the only remaining Tendo
daughter towering over her a good foot. "I miss
him, neesan... It's so painful."

	"I know it hurts, but everything will be
fine. I promise." Kasumi's tone was most soothing
and comforting. It even made Ranma feel a little
better, until he caught the look in her eyes. 

	Sheri only nodded and looked down at the
floor, crying harder. 
	
	Kasumi wrapped a gentle arm around the
younger girl's shoulder and led her away from
Ranma. She glanced back at the pigtail martial
artist. 

	Ranma smiled as best he could, nodding his
thanks to Kasumi. 

	Kasumi smiled, but it lacked the normal
enthusiasm that had so often lifted his sprits when
he had felt bad. It was unnerving to think that
even Kasumi could be brought so far down. 

	"Nice going, Saotome." 

	Ranma turned his head too find the face that
went along with the familiar voice of Hiroshi.  	

	"Your tact is matched only by your charm."
Hiroshi smiled slightly from his spot next to
Konatsu's casket. 

	Ranma sighed and looked back at the casket.
"Leave me alone, Hiroshi." 

	"Bad day, huh?"

	"Try bad 13 months." 

	Hiroshi only nodded and looked down at the
casket. "Konatsu... Poor guy. He was a member of
that little elite group you started, wasn't he?" 

	Ranma nodded, ignoring the slight satire in
the other teen's voice as he mentioned the TD.  

	"What was it called... The Tokyo Defensive,
right?" 

	"And still is," Ranma nodded, his tone
becoming slowly bitter. 

	Hiroshi nodded and continued. "Konatsu,
Tatewaki Kuno, Mousse, and Ryoga. They were all
members of the original Tokyo Defensive, weren't
they?"

	Ranma nodded again. "So?" 

	"They're all dead now, except for you." 

	"Ryoga might not be," Ranma snapped, looking
towards Hiroshi. 

	The young man shrugged. "What do you think
his chances are out there, all alone, on his own?
He should have stayed here." 

	"Well he didn't," Ranma replied, his tone
downright cold. "What's your point?"

	"Point is, it seems that every member of the
team has died with the exception of you." Hiroshi
looked from Ranma to Konatsu's casket. "How many of
the new recruits have been slaughtered by those
creatures?" 

	Ranma looked up at Hiroshi. "Sixteen. Believe
it or not, I do keep count." 

	"I never doubted it." Hiroshi paused for a
moment and moved around to the other side of the
casket. He lifted the picture of Konatsu and looked
down at it. "You really like to play games with
people's lives, don't you?"

	"What?" Ranma glared at the 17 year old, his
eyes stone cold, his voice dripping acid.

	"You heard me. Your little group has
accomplished nothing other than killing off more
and more members of our group."

	Ranma stared at Hiroshi for a long moment.
His stomach twisted into knots as a sudden wash of
quilt flooded through him. He looked down at the
casket and shook his head. He wasn't going to take
the bait. Hiroshi was trying to make him feel
quietly. 

	"In fact," Hiroshi continued, returning
Konatsu's picture to its spot on his casket, "I'd
be willing to bet you enjoy sending people out to
their death, especially members of the original
group. I mean, every one of them had been your long
time rivals." He paused and smiled slightly. "Nice
way to clean up the trash -- feed em to the dead."

	"Fuck you," Ranma hissed. He turned and moved
towards the back of the room, away from the
ignorant accusation of his peer. 

	Daisuke sidestepped out of Ranma's way as he
approached the casket. The pigtailed martial artist
didn't even look at him as he moved through the
lobby, towards the windows. 

	Daisuke looked from the fuming Ranma towards
an amused looking Hiroshi. "What just happened?" 

	"Oh nothing," Hiroshi answered innocently.
"Just filling Ranma in on some of the facts about
what's going on around here."

	"You enjoy upsetting him, don't you?" Daisuke
moved closer to the casket and looked down at the
picture. 

	"Nothing better to do." Hiroshi looked from
Ranma back at his friend. "I don't really mean
nothing by it." 

	Daisuke flashed Hiroshi a disapproving look
and glanced back down at the casket. "He's going to
kick your ass one day, you know."

	"I know."  

*	*	* 

	"God damn it!" Ryoga jerked his hand back
away from the razor wire, his hand burning in pain. 
He looked down at his hand, the torn flesh
feathered upwards, allowing a small stream of
crimson fluid to drain down his palm, over his
wrist and onto the fabric of his tunic.
	
	He closed his hand tightly and reached into
his pocket with the other. From it, he pulled out a
clean bandanna. He opened his other hand and began
wrapping the bandanna around it, tying it tightly
so the bleeding would stop.

	After bandaging his hand, he looked back down
at his leg. Every time he moved, it ached
profusely, and it was driving him crazy. The pain
of battle was one thing, having razor wire digging
relentlessly into his leg was another. 

	And suddenly something else struck him. He
was in out in the open, wounded, and stuck. A
nervous feeling began to form in the pit of his
sorely neglected stomach. He didn't know much about
the Flesh Stalkers, but he did know that they
attacked at the most inconvenient times. 

	He looked down at his hand and extended his
index finger. He didn't know if the technique was
any good, he had never had to use it. But if it did
work, it would be the fastest way to destroy one of
them, unless there were a lot, in which case he
would run. 

	But he couldn't run, and he knew that the
chances of a group ganging up on him were
insurmountable. He suddenly felt very alone and
helpless. 

*	*	*

	Feelings of distress. Feelings of fright and
anxiety. They were as clear a flashing light to it. 

	And they beckoned it. It was so close now, so
close. And it was the only one to have sensed it
yet. It would be the only one to feast, to attempt
to fulfill the hunger and thirst. 

	It moved as fast as its decaying muscles and
joints would allow, and with its one remaining eye,
could see in the distance what it was looking for. 

*	*	*

	Ranma sat silently next to Kasumi, looking at
the floor of the lobby. Next to him sat Daisuke,
Hiroshi, Sheri, and several other members of the
group. 

	Everyone had arrived for the funeral, and the
room sat in total silence as they awaited the
service to begin. 

	Dr. Tofu stood before the crowded room,
adjusting his wire-frame glasses. He placed his
hands on the pedestal before him and lowered his
head. 

	"Friends," Tofu began, "We are here today to
honor the memory of one of the highest held members
of this small survivors group. Konatsu."

	Ranma looked up from the floor, towards Tofu,
who was dressed in a dark gi and sandals. He placed
his arms in his lap and listened. 

	After a brief pause, Tofu continued, "Konatsu
was a good person, and a likable person. He was a
great friend and assistant to the late Ukyo, who
was also known as one of the more 'friendly faces'
when this whole crisis began. Konatsu was one of
the only original members of the Tokyo Defensive
still alive." Tofu looked down in the audience,
towards Ranma.  "His group captain, Saotome Ranma,
would like to say a few words in his honor."

	The attention of the room turned towards
Ranma suddenly. It was a surprise, to most, that
the now somber, sometimes cold Ranma would say
anything about the deceased.

	But he did have something to say, and Ranma
wasn't going to let his recently formed stereotype
stop him. He stood slowly and approached the
pedestal.

	"What do you think Saotome's up to?" Hiroshi
whispered over to Daisuke. 

	Daisuke hissed for him to be quiet, and
averted his attention from an annoyed Hiroshi to
the front of the room.

	Tofu nodded to Ranma and smiled as best he
could as the pigtailed martial artist took his
place before the audience. 

	Ranma looked out over the crowd. He watched
as the room of 30 or so people looked up at him
expectantly, waiting to hear what he would have to
say. He cleared his throat and lowered his head. 

	"Konatsu had become one of my greatest
friends and students. Out of all the members of the
original Tokyo Defensive, he was the most apt to
survive. He had become quite the martial artist
over the last 13th months, much better than he was
before this all started." Ranma paused and looked
up and out over the crowd. He continued
thoughtfully. "After Ukyo died, Konatsu went into a
phase of depression that led to the ultimate
decline of his skill and will in the Art. Thanks to
the support of you, his friends, Konatsu was able
to rise from his darkest hour and triumph over his
pain and grief."

	Sheri watched Ranma intently, a small smile
appearing on her grieving face as his words found
their way to her. They were comforting, in a way,
and made her feel a little better. 

	Ranma continued, "We should all take some
comfort in knowing that Konatsu died the way he
wanted to -- protecting his friends and the people
he cared about." Ranma looked down toward Sheri,
his eyes meeting hers. 

	Sheri smiled softly at Ranma, reaching up to
wipe the stream of tears from her cheek with a
tissue. 

	Ranma smiled back at Sheri, the first smile
to cross his face since Akane's disappearance. "The
rest of the original team -- Mousse and Kuno, also
left this world fighting to protect the lives of
others. Though Ryoga has been missing for quite
sometime, I hold hope that he is still alive.
But... if the worst is true, we can be sure that he
went out the same way as his comrades -- fighting."

	The audience watched Ranma silently as his
words faded away. They all looked somber and sad,
but relived somehow. It comforted him a little to
know that he could give at least some of them peace
of mind. He took a deep breath and began his final
statement.

	"Konatsu will be missed by his friends,
family, and team members, but he will never be
forgotten." He paused for a moment. "He was my
student, team member, and most of all, my friend.
He put up with some really nasty things from me,
and still he was friendly and never lost his sense
of humor." Ranma glanced around the room before
turning to face the casket behind him. He lowered
his head and closed his eyes. "You'll be missed,
furendo. I hope you find peace in the next world."

*	*	*

	Once again, he reached out and ran his hand
along the thick string of razor wire. Why the hell
was a spool of razor wire laying in the middle of
the road anyway? 

	That was a stupid question, Ryoga decided,
considering all of the other things he could see
laying around in the middle of the road. 

	He sighed and then flinched as one of the
sharp razor prongs caught his finger. 

	"Jesus this stuff is sharp," he cursed aloud,
bringing his finger up to his mouth. He removed it
from between his lips and examined it. Only a
scratch. Why couldn't his leg have been as lucky? 

*	*	*

	It moved closer still, sensing yet another
opening of the flesh, causing more life fluid to
spill from within its prey. 

	The urge grew stronger, and its pace grew
more urgent. It didn't even notice when it ran into
a metal pipe that was balanced on the side of a
car. 

*	*	*

	Ryoga started as the metallic sound of metal
hitting asphalt vibrated through the night sky. He
turned his head abruptly, the motion causing his
body to jerk, which made the razor wire dig deeper
into his leg. 

	He growled in pain, but it didn't last as he
finally saw what had caused the falling metal. 

	A Flesh Stalker moved towards him from across
the street, its face mangled and only a shadow of
what it once was. 

	Its clothing hung to its body by threads, and
Ryoga could tell that the once female human had
been sliced, diced, and even burned, but she was
still coming. None of it had stopped the thing. 

	The creature continued on, what flesh was
left of her lips pulling back in a menacing snarl
as she grew slowly closer 

	Ryoga looked from the creature back at his
leg. He felt a sudden rush of panic flow through
him and he reached down with both hands to his leg.
The wire wasn't digging in on the underside. He
might have some slack... 

	He clenched his teeth and slid his fingers
down into the wound, causing a sharp cry of pain to
erupt from between his lips. 

	He continued to slide his fingers through the
wound, until finally they were below the razor
wire. He began to pull it up from his flesh, and he
watched as the blood flowed freely.

	The creature was even closer, and had
diverted its course so it could get around a car.
It was now in front of the lost boy, moving eagerly
forward. 

	Ryoga looked up at it as he jerked at the
wire with sudden force, hearing a sickening tearing
as the razor prongs pulled from within his flesh. 
	
	He felt light headed suddenly as so much
blood flowed from his leg. He didn't have time to
get away... 

	The creature was suddenly on him. Ryoga's
hand rose into the air suddenly, and he growled as
the razor wire sunk into the flesh of the Flesh
Stalker's throat. 

	His right leg rose and he jammed it between
him and the creature, all the time trying to annoy
the throbbing in his leg as his blood flowed down
to the asphalt roadway. 

	The creature tried to move, but found it hard
due to the razor wire. It lashed out at Ryoga with
its arms, trying desperately to seize him.

	Ryoga bent his knee back and pushed forward
as hard as he could. The creature flew away from
him, but he felt a sudden resistance and noticed
the razor wire still lodged in the side of its
neck. "God damn it!" 


	The creature snarled and lunged back towards
Ryoga. 

	The eternally lost boy looked down at his
hand and threw his foot up again to stop the
incoming creature and used the hold he had with the
razor wire to keep its mouth away from him.

	After a moments thought, he made up his mind.
"No time like the present," he mumbled, looking up
at the Flesh Stalker.

	The creature lunged again, but went nowhere
due to Ryoga's foot. It snarled and growled in
agitation, its arms swinging wildly.

	Ryoga suddenly jerked his leg forward
violently, causing the creature to fall backwards.
He felt that resistance again, but this time he
jerked and saw the side of the Flesh Stalker's neck
tearing open, a wash of blood flowing from within.

	The creature stumbled for a moment, and Ryoga
dropped the razor wire. Slowly, he pulled himself
up onto one knee. He had made it no further when
the creature suddenly lunged again. 

	"This is gunna be messy," Ryoga said,
squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He pulled his arm
back, as if to perform a simple jab, and extended
his index finger. 

	"Bakusei Tensatsu!" He propelled his arm
forward, sinking his finger into the creatures
chest, and prepared.  

*	*	*    

	Dr. Tofu looked up into the large crowd of
people from where he and Ranma stood next to
Konatsu's casket.

	He sighed and adjusted his wire-frame
glasses. "When will we burn the body, Ranma?" 

	Ranma looked up at Tofu suddenly from the
large audience. "Hmm?"

	Tofu glanced at Ranma. "I said when do we
burn the body?"

	"Later tonight. We'll take em down to the
incinerator room and do it." Ranma looked out over
the crowd of conversing people and spotted Sheri.
"I'm gunna give his ashes to Sheri."

	Tofu nodded and also searched the crowd. He
spotted Kasumi and smiled slightly. She wasn't
crying any more. That made him feel a little
better. 

	Ranma looked down at the floor and sighed. He
didn't know how many more funerals he could go
through, or how many more patrols he could go on.
It was really getting to him. He had even noticed a
long lock of gray hair earlier that morning on his
head. It was just there, not really serving any
purpose, so he removed it as quickly as he could. 

	"Ranma?"

	"Hmm?" Ranma looked back up at Tofu, the haze
of thought washing from his mind.

	Tofu moved over to stand in a more suitable
position for talking to the pigtailed martial
artist. "I asked what was on your mind. You seem
troubled."  

	Ranma nodded and sighed. "I.. I am,
Tofu-sensei."

	"What's wrong?" 

	"Do you think it's all a waste of time?"

	Tofu frowned. "How do you mean?"

	Ranma looked around the room, waving his arms
around in indication. "All of this. Should we
really be stayin' here? Or should we have left
Tokyo and went to Hokkaido or somethin'?"

	Tofu reached up to rub the back of his neck.
He shook his head. "Ranma, we're doing just fine
here. We have plenty of food and water to last us
another 7 to 8 months, until someone finds us."

	"But what if they don't find us?" Ranma cut
in, letting his arms cross over his chest. He
leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Or what if
those things break in? The Tokyo Defensive is down
in force. I'm not so sure we can protect this
complex much longer."  

	"Umm... Ranma?"

	Ranma noticed Tofu's glance trailing over his
shoulder, and the sudden voice. He turned on his
heel to see Sheri behind him. "Sheri?" 

	Sheri walked slowly towards the teenage
martial artist and, as she reached him, wrapped her
arms around him, hugging him gently. "Thank you,
Ranma."

	Ranma tensed as her arms wrapped around him,
but after a moment let his body relax. It wasn't
like Shampoo was groping onto him. He had to forget
about those times. 

	He looked down at Sheri and returned the
small hug. "For what?"

	Sheri held Ranma for a moment and then
released him, letting her hands rest on his
shoulders. She looked up at him, into his eyes.
"For your kind words about Konatsu. He would have
appreciated it."

	Ranma nodded and looked away from Sheri, down
to the floor. "It was nothin'. I only told the
truth."

	Sheri let a small smile form over her lips
and she leaned up.

	Ranma's face flushed red as Sheri's soft,
warm lips pressed against his cheek. He smiled a
little. 

	Sheri moved back and removed her hands from
his shoulders. "Thank you." She turned slowly and
walked back to the mass of conversations.

	Ranma watched her go and slowly turned back
to face Tofu. 

	"See, Ranma?" Tofu smiled slightly. "Even
during times like these, you can still make people
happy. You just have to keep hope."

	Ranma nodded and looked past Tofu, out the
wall of glass behind the casket. "I hope you're
right, Tofu-sensei."

*	*	*

	Ryoga reached up and pulled what could only
be part of the small intestine from where it had
gotten hung in his bandanna. 

	He looked down at his blood-soaked clothing
and his newly-bandaged leg. He knew the Bakusei
Tensatsu would be messy. After all, it WAS designed
to blow organic things, such as humans, to pieces.
But he had never imagined it would be THIS messy. 

	The Flesh Stalker's legs lay on the ground,
one of its feet twitching. It was unnerving. The
rest of its body from just below the waist up was
gone -- destroyed by the Organic Breaking Point. 

	Oh well. The technique was effective. That's
all that really mattered. And he was still alive.

	For now.

================================================================    

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