The Wheel of Fire, #31: War of the Tribes
Written by Razorclaw X (spiceoflife@NYChotmail.com)
http://www.crosswinds.net/~slythe/ranma/ranff.html
Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 and characters belong to Rumiko
Takahashi. And all that other good stuff. Proper
licenses belong to respective properties and
characters. The manga has precedence over material in
the anime.
This file can be freely distributed so long as it
appears in its complete form and proper credit given.
No part may be reproduced for monetary gain without
permission from the author.
Fanart can be found at:
http://www.crosswinds.net/~slythe/fanart/index.html
------------------------------------------------
"We always admire the other fellow more after we have
tried to do his job." -- William Feather
"Sir Mousse!"
When he heard the sound of his name the Master of
Hidden Weapons emerged from his stone-walled house,
his hands folded together under the concealment of his
long-sleeved robes. Wrinkling his nose slightly to make
sure his glasses were on Mousse looked around, finding
the source of the shout coming from a perimeter sentry.
The sentry was a girl of no more than fourteen years
of age, but she was an Amazon-- a member of a tribe
whose women were phenomenally strong. Despite her
youth and looks the sentry girl was a skilled fighter,
and that alone more than qualified her for her duties,
limited though they were.
"Okay, Paste," he began, remembering the girl's name
on the spot, "give me a good reason why I shouldn't
punish you for abandoning your post?"
Unfazed by the threat of punishment, Paste bowed
respectfully to Mousse. Although she was catching her
breath, the weapons master admired her for maintaining
her demeanor. "We've caught spies!"
"Spies?" Mousse echoed. "Why was I not informed
sooner?!"
"They should be coming in about now!" the sentry
added quickly, pointing back the way she came.
Mousse adjusted his glasses, trying to focus in the
direction where Paste was pointing. Sure enough, a
small band of warriors-- kids, really-- were bringing
in someone... or someones. As they approached he could
make out the two prisoners, secured in a somewhat
sloppy manner in the center of a circle of warriors. He
mentally reminded himself to reprimand the youths for
their poor sense of judgement later; the prisoners had
his full attention now.
The Master of Hidden Weapons did little to hide his
amusement as one of the prisoners, Ranma Saotome,
yelled at his captors in vain-- in a language they did
not understand. Very few of the tribesmen learned
multiple languages, but it proved to be a great
advantage when dealing with outsiders; Mousse himself
was fluent in Japanese.
The second prisoner Mousse recognized, having met her
on the night before he started home for China. Although
she still wore the same traveling cloak as before,
Hokuto Takemasa's dress changed to a Chinese-style of
loose clothing, doing little for her modest figure. It
was probably for the best; sometimes the girls, in
their incomprehensible manner, became jealous of such
attributes in other girls.
He did not have to wait long before Ranma recognized
him.
"Mousse!" the captured martial artist yelled. "Am I
glad to see you!"
"Where'd you find them?" Mousse asked Paste.
"They were heading this way," the sentry explained.
"The loud one," she continued, pointing at Ranma, "kept
saying your name, for whatever reason. Is he a friend
of yours?"
The Master of Hidden Weapons smirked slightly,
suddenly finding great amusement in the situation.
"Excuse me, Mr. Mousse," Hokuto said, surprising all
the warriors save Mousse, "but aren't you going to help
us out?"
Nodding to himself, he replied, "Your Chinese is
pretty good." To the warriors he ordered, "Stand down,
and resume your posts! They're guests of mine!"
Paste stared at Mousse for a moment, disappointment
in her eyes. He knew what the young warrior was
thinking, and it was likely the same thing the others
were thinking, but he couldn't allow them to do
anything drastic-- yet. Silently, the warriors
disbanded and retreated from the area, leaving Mousse
alone with Ranma and Hokuto.
Switching to Japanese, Mousse greeted, "I see the
time's treated you well, Ranma Saotome!"
Ranma shrugged, pretending to be unconcerned with the
pleasantries. "Eh, same 'ol, same 'ol. That kind of
stuff."
"Thank you for your hospitality," Hokuto said, bowing
respectfully.
Mousse waved a hand. "There's no need for that! It's
just too early for that, really. The first thing I want
to know is why you're here. THEN maybe you can thank
me."
"Oh, that's right," the girl said, a slight tone of
apology in her voice. "You're all at war."
"Yeah," agreed Ranma. Looking around from side to
side, he asked, "Where's Shampoo and the ghoul?"
It was then that the amusement died from Mousse's
attitude. He turned to walk away, muttering over his
shoulder quietly, "This way."
He lead the two guests through the tribal village-
turned-military camp. Ignoring the wonderment and
puzzlement in their gestures and words Mousse lead them
past several burnt-out fire pits and poorly-erected
canvas tents. He came to a stop at the entrance of the
largest of the tents, and gently pulled the flap aside.
"Whatever you do," Mousse warned quietly, "don't make
too much noise."
Hokuto nodded quickly, but Ranma simply shrugged.
The weapons master dreaded entering the tent, but it
was the quickest way to get his message across. Rows
upon rows of cots lined the inside of the tent, all
spaced in such a manner to maximize cot space and
minimize walk space. Several injured warriors,
casualties of battle in various states of pain, rest
in most of the cots, with an attendant here or there to
see to their needs. Mousse knew the tent was
understaffed, but the majority of the villagers were
warriors, not medics; that task was left to the elderly
and the very young.
He gave a silent nod in the direction of Lung-lung,
who saw him enter. She lay on a cot not far away,
recovering from a nearly-fatal wound from a battle two
weeks prior. The slashing wound in her side did little
to shatter her pride-- rather, it elevated it. Having
tasted her first true battle scar Lung-lung was eager
for more; Mousse understood the feeling perfectly, the
battle lust. Her twin sister, Ling-ling, however, was
disappointed in herself that she had not shed her own
blood, but the weapons master assured her that it
really wasn't something to look forward to.
"Geez," Ranma muttered. "This's bad."
"This way," Mousse ordered, walking through the rows
of cots. Both guests followed slowly, looking upon the
faces here and there. Somehow he hoped they were
understanding completely.
The trio came to a halt before one cot, singled-out
from all other cots by virtue of the space surrounding
it. The cot, occupied by a once-proud warrior, shook
along with the visible quaking emanating from within
the girl. Beside the cot was a small table, a half-full
cup of coffee and a thermos resting within arm's reach
of the cot's occupant.
"Shampoo."
The cat-like warrior simply stared up at the ceiling
of the tent, seeming to barely acknowledging the
presence of visitors.
"Ugh, Shampoo...." Ranma whispered. "What happened?"
"Looks like too much coffee to me," Hokuto pointed
out, her finger jabbed toward the table.
Mousse nodded in confirmation. "She's been like this
all week."
"So don't give her coffee," suggested the Japanese
martial artist.
"No, the coffee's not the problem," the weapons
master corrected, shaking his head. "She needs the
coffee to stay awake. Shampoo hasn't slept all week."
"Why not?" asked the Shadow Weaver.
Looking back and forth, Mousse checked to make sure
he wasn't being watched. Although it seemed silly, he
felt there was someone watching him, even though no one
in the tent was paying any attention to him. Despite
the feeling, he explained, "Ever since she took over
the leadership of the tribe, Shampoo's gotten some
really bad nightmares."
"Oh, really?" Ranma said, genuinely curious.
"Look around, Saotome!" he continued, gesturing
around the tent with his arms. "Do you see any real
leaders around here?"
Scratching his head, he replied, "Come to think of
it, where is the old ghoul?"
Mousse shook his head. "I've got no clue! But, ever
since she disappeared a week ago, anyone who's taken up
the role of leader in this tribe succumbed to vicious
nightmares. In effect, they were being made less-
effective because something was ripping them apart from
the inside." He gestured toward Shampoo. "A few days
ago Shampoo realized this, and declared herself the
new leader after everyone became aware of this."
"But she hasn't slept," Hokuto realized, "so she
hasn't succumbed to the nightmares."
"Precisely," replied Mousse. "The others who tried to
take over are in comas. Shampoo knows that more will
suffer if she fails, so she's not going to allow
herself to succumb."
"But you're the one callin' the shots now," Ranma
pointed out. "How come you're not affected?"
The Master of Hidden Weapons, reminded of the threat
of prying eyes, looked around before breathing a word.
"Keep it down! Nobody knows that outside the tribe!"
"I get it," the Shadow Weaver said, picking up on
what Mousse had in mind. "So long as whoever's sending
the nightmares doesn't know the leadership's changed,
you won't get hit."
"At least, that's what he hopes," Ranma muttered.
"We're just buying time here," Mousse added. "Shampoo
can't stay awake forever, and we don't know which of
our enemies is sending the nightmares over here."
"Speaking of which," interrupted Hokuto, "what is the
state of the Valley?"
For a moment Mousse was amused that the outsider girl
was thinking of the bigger picture. He adjusted the rim
of his glasses slightly. "You should at least know that
thirteen tribes make up the Valley," he began. "It
began back when the balance of power was broken."
Mousse looked toward Ranma regretfully. "We did that,
you know."
The martial artist nodded. "Yeah, I remember... that
last time we came here."
"Our THOUGHTLESS actions," he continued, thinking to
put more emphasis on the stupidity of his previous
actions, "created a power vacuum. While it wasn't so
readily-apparent when we saw Herb last time it was
there, and certain individuals were taking advantage of
it."
"In the past three tribes made up much of the control
spectrum of Cistern Valley: the Phoenix Mountain tribe,
the Musk Dynasty, and this tribe. But, the other two
tribes mostly kept to themselves, yet the threat of
attack from them was always present. Our tribe was the
only one in constant view of the other ten tribes, and
it took but a single moment of weakness for them to
capitalize on it. Underneath the tables alliances were
being formed, for what the other tribes lacked in total
power they attempted to make up in numbers."
"Just when Nemesis was unleashed the war broke out at
home, and we were summoned to assist, as were all
tribesmen traveling abroad. Needless to say, I couldn't
go back at the time, but in the span of time until my
arrival it seemed that the Musk and Phoenix tribes took
active interest in the affairs of the tribes once
again. Alliances were redrawn, causing great confusion;
nobody knew who the real enemy was, or who started the
conflict in the first place. Today... it degenerated
into something much simpler: someone has to win."
"It's unlikely that the war can stop now, it seems,"
Hokuto realized. "A cruel fate your peoples must
suffer."
"So what is it, a thirteen-way war?" Ranma wondered.
Mousse shook his head. "More like an eight-way
stalemate. Last week a mediator from the Tunnel Tiger
tribe went around to all the other tribes, requesting a
peace summit to somehow dissolve the pointless fight.
Since the prides and egos of each of the tribes were at
stake, and nobody truly wished to war, the suggestion
was readily accepted."
"It didn't work out," Ranma guessed.
"The old ghoul went to the summit," the weapons
master continued, nodding slightly toward Ranma. "Each
tribe sent a representative-- one who displayed a great
deal of strength and power. They left for a location
secret to all but those leaders, and it was for that
reason nobody knows why they didn't come back."
"Someone took out all the leaders," Hokuto added. "If
you take out the head, the body dies along with it."
"Only for some of them," Mousse corrected. "Some of
the lesser tribes panicked themselves into alliances
with the stronger tribes to stay afloat. But to the
others it was an opportunity-- a time to seize the
leadership. We've gotten reports that one of the tribes
actually fractured itself into two parties, further
weakening it. And the chain of command here wasn't ever
an issue, until the nightmares started attacking. Since
then many on the chain passed to their lessers to save
their own skins."
"So who do you think did it?" asked Ranma. "Don't you
think it's these Tunnel Tigers?"
"It may very well be them, but Pantyhose Taro didn't
seem to be the type to bid for leadership."
"Pantyhose Taro? He's workin' with them?"
"They're his tribe," Mousse explained. "He went back
to them after he found out about the war, and despite
his reservations it seems he was accepted readily. No
surprise, considering how good he is-- he's the only
other one keeping them from being destroyed outright.
When their tribal leader was taken from them at the
summit Taro was made the leader quickly. They're
dangerous enemies, that's for sure."
"But that still doesn't rule out the fact that it may
be them," Hokuto pointed out quickly. "This Pantyhose
Taro may not be the one responsible, but one of them
must have done it."
"Oh, you wouldn't happen to know if he's sufferin'
nightmares, would ya?" asked Ranma.
The Master of Hidden Weapons shook his head. "We
haven't actually gotten any reports from our scouts and
spies concerning the states of that tribe. They're
pretty good at bottling-up for such a weak tribe."
"They're weak, yet they're a big threat because of
their mysterious ways," the Shadow Weaver interpreted.
"Since you can't tell what they're doing it makes them
more dangerous than the Musk or Phoenix Mountain
tribes."
"Speakin' of which," Ranma voiced, interrupting
Hokuto's train of thought, "Herb's gone, too, ain't
he?"
"Yes," answered Mousse. "The Musk's current
leadership falls under Sage, the chief advisor."
Disappointed, the martial artist seemed ready to
sulk, but stopped himself. Mousse raised an eyebrow,
trying to discern a reason that Ranma Saotome could
want to see the prince of the Musk Dynasty for.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a
warning horn, reverberating between the mountain crags
surrounding the Valley. Both Hokuto and Ranma looked
back and forth, confused, until they stared at Mousse
expectantly.
"It's a skirmish!" he realized. Looking toward Ranma,
he ordered, "You're up, Ranma Saotome!"
"Uh, right," he stuttered in reply. Shrugging, the
martial artist glanced in Hokuto's direction. "I think
you should stay here with Shampoo, where it's safe,
'kay?"
Hokuto nodded slowly. "I understand. Do take care of
yourself."
"Let's go, Ranma Saotome!" Mousse said, heading for
the tent's exit with an accelerated pace.
"They're coming," Sypha warned, holding up her
scrying crystal ball for Pantyhose Taro to see. "Just
as you wanted."
"That's good to hear," Taro replied, folding his
arms. "I don't expect the warriors to beat Femme-boy or
the duck-man."
"Then why, my lord?" asked the sorcerer.
"The best way to undermine your opponent is to keep
them away from the real goal," the leader of the Tunnel
Tiger tribe explained. "How convenient, that two of
the Amazons' best fighters left the real target alone
to chase a red herring."
He turned to leave, but Sypha stopped him with a
mere question. "I assume you're going to take care of
it yourself?"
"That's right," Taro answered coolly, without turning
around to see Sypha's reaction. "If we're going to win
I'm going to have to put some effort in it, too, you
see. I hope you'll keep this village in one piece until
I get back?"
The sorcerer bowed respectfully, careful not to drop
her crystal ball. "As always, Lord Taro."
Although she was hardly the only occupant of the
hospital-tent Hokuto felt relatively alone with Shampoo
now that Ranma and Mousse left her behind. The medical
aides were of no consequence to her, as they were too
engrossed in their myriad tasks to notice one outsider
paying her respects to the current leader of the
tribe.
Shampoo changed much since she last saw her, the
Shadow Weaver noted. Hokuto herself felt she was no
different than before, but she couldn't shake the
feeling that the Amazon recognized her from before,
when her weary eyes looked in her direction.
"Y... you...." she managed to mumble, amidst the
caffeine high.
"You're stronger than I gave you credit for," Hokuto
said neutrally. "The sum of your ambitions lies right
in your hands-- yet you find that you're very powerless
now, don't you?" She did not wait for Shampoo to
acknowledge this remark. "Fate has a way of dealing
cruel destinies to those who are wanting."
She bent down on her knees to Shampoo's eye level.
Whispering, she added, "But I can help you...."
Something in the Amazon's eyes lit up, and Hokuto
knew what the answer was. "I can get rid of the threat
represented in the nightmares, yes... but there is one
catch: you have to fall asleep."
In a flash defiance rose in Shampoo's expression.
"N... no...t g...g...going...."
"If you don't," interrupted Hokuto, "the nightmares
will keep coming. Mousse will be next. After him...
then what? There isn't anyone else brave enough to take
the risk after him, and you know it; that's why you're
holding out like this. For that you've earned
everyone's respect, including Mousse. But, since you're
so proud you won't admit that; on the other hand, since
he, too, is proud, he won't admit his newfound respect
for you, either."
She waited for her words to sink in. "So here's where
you stand: you can continue like this and eventually
fall asleep, or you can sleep now and help me get rid
of the threat. This is the only way I'll be able to
find out who's sending the nightmares. If you fall
asleep later it might be too late to help your tribe
survive this stupid war."
Before Hokuto could make a move she felt Shampoo's
lashing hand grab her cloak, and the Shadow Weaver
suddenly felt the tremor dominating the leader's body,
as if the coffee somehow worked its way into Hokuto
through touch. She clamped both her hands down on
Shampoo's arm, trying to force it steady, but failing.
The world seemed to shake itself apart in the girl's
eyes, through the vibration that came from Shampoo's
arm alone.
No words passed between the two girls, but Hokuto
knew that Shampoo was drifting off rapidly, and time
was running out. Hokuto slid her hands down Shampoo's
arm and held her hand firmly, and focused inwardly,
shutting her eyes to the world. Had her eyes been open
the Shadow Weaver would have noticed the cup of her
hands were giving off a faint, green glow.
And her world became nothing as Shampoo became
reality.
Her senses dulled around her, and Hokuto immediately
felt the defense mechanisms in Shampoo's mind break
away voluntarily. She stood within what resembled a
padded isolation room, having no discernable exit, and
Hokuto realized that this was what Shampoo was using as
her mental barrier construct. The nightmare, she
guessed, was likely just outside the walls, kept at bay
only by the force of the Amazon's iron will.
But now that the walls of will slowly diminished the
raking talons of the nightmare became visible, prying
their way through the cracks in the corners with great
effort. Hokuto took an involuntary step back, even
though she knew it was a pointless gesture in the
mindscape. She reminded herself that the nightmare was
not after her, but that did not leave out the fact that
it could; in her trance state Hokuto was just as
vulnerable as the sleeping Shampoo, if not more, since
she was in the dream by proxy. Taking this into mind
the Shadow Weaver thought up of a mental barrier of
her own, willing herself invisible-- nonexistent to the
dream-- hoping the nightmare would not notice her
right away.
The ploy seemed to have worked as the nightmare
finally tore its way into the room. The creature was
created of a dark, shadowy substance, resembling a
living, breathing silhouette-- of what Hokuto did not
know. Only outline features could be made out of the
nightmare creature, leaving her only the telltale claws
discernable, along with two head-tails hanging to each
side and two long whiskers floating about unnaturally
in the air, emerging from where the head would be.
Hokuto would have guessed this was some kind of demon,
but the movements and general shape suggested
otherwise.
The nightmare was human.
Silently the invader of Shampoo's mind made its way
to the center of the chamber-- the center of the
Amazon leader's psyche. Hokuto kept a fair distance
from the nightmare, trying to remain unnoticed until
she was certain she could act and produce results. She
felt a slight mental tug from Shampoo as the nightmare
called up the memory sphere.
A globe-like object emerged from the ground at the
nightmare's feet, rising up to just below its head.
Standing on a steel rod the memory sphere operated in a
similar manner as a television set-- at least, that
was how Shampoo perceived it. The nightmare called up
several memories buried within Shampoo's consciousness
and began its search for a good selection to pervert.
Hokuto resisted the urgings to act, realizing she was
being prodded by Shampoo's inner trust. She felt the
urgency of the Amazon through the intensity of the
mental prod, yet resisted, trying to justify herself
by explaining that it was not yet time to act. But
reason was one thing Shampoo could not understand now,
having become dominated by her emotions. Mentally the
Shadow Weaver sent a psychic backlash back through the
prod, hopefully giving her enough jolt to stay away.
The nightmare ripped a memory out of the globe with
its four talons, holding it up in the air for Hokuto
to see. She watched in tense silence while the shadow
being pinched the photo-like memory image between two
talons, manipulating it carefully as if it were fusing
a circuit board-- a few modifications here, a few
there, and a terrible memory was born. Hokuto knew
enough to understand that the modifications were only
temporary, as the mind resisted the changes adamantly,
but it would last long enough for the nightmare's
purposes.
It only needed to last long enough to throw Shampoo
into a mental shutdown.
Already the Amazon showed signs of struggling when
the memory globe began to withdraw itself, but the
nightmare was quick to hold it in place with its free
talons. Likely realizing that it had little time to do
its work the nightmare started ripping into the globe
at random, tearing out random memories and allowing
them to float freely in the mindscape, cluttering any
reason left available to Shampoo. To Hokuto it was no
worse than ripping out pages from a phone book.
She instantly regretted that thought as Shampoo's
defense mechanisms prodded her again. This time it took
the form of the Amazon leader herself, appearing quite
healthy-- yet fear was in her eyes. It was no surprise
what the intent of the girl was.
"What are you doing?!" demanded Shampoo, raising her
fingers that looked ready to tear at flesh.
"Gah!" Hokuto yelped in surprise. "Stay back! You're
ruining everything!"
"All you do is stand and watch!" the leader pointed
out harshly. "Stop it!"
Before Hokuto could act she realized that, no matter
what she did, it was too late. She barely had time to
realize that the nightmare slashed at her psychic
defenses when she hit the floor of the mindscape. By
reflex she summoned a mental construct-- a desperate
point-to-point barrier around herself-- to protect
herself from the mental attacks.
"You did well," praised the nightmare, which Hokuto
noted was female. "Until now I've never met anyone
with enough power to elude my detection!"
The Shadow Weaver had no idea what was going on in
the chaos of Shampoo's mind. Paying the Amazon no
heed she stood to her feet, remaining wary with her
mental barrier in case a stray thought blasted her.
Facing the nightmare Hokuto realized she could see
her. The woman appeared somewhere in her mid-to-late
twenties, her face masked and accented under a good
layer of skin-toned makeup, along with ruby-red lips
and purple-accented eye shadow. Her hair existed in
volumes, the Shadow Weaver realized, confirming her
suspicion that the entire lengths of her hair was
bunched into two nearly body-length pony-tails, each
swept to one side of the head. As if part of her hair
escaped the fate of the rest two long strands, one on
each side over the ear, hung loosely at the sides, but
danced about in the air as if they had a life of their
own-- somewhat a visage of the pictures Hokuto
remembered of dragons.
Taking on more similarities to the draconic visage
the woman appeared thin of frame-- snake-like, even.
The nightmare wore a flowing, phoenix-red Chinese
Imperial Court dress, something that appeared to date
back to maybe the Early Han Dynasty or earlier, with
Imperial purple accents and bands. Her sleeves, keeping
with the style, stretched far beyond arm's length,
almost all the way to the floor. Utilizing this fact
quite well, the nightmare woman's talons-- actually
razor-sharp steel claws-- appeared almost real enough
to be the hands themselves, even though Hokuto knew it
was an illusion.
"Who are you?" she asked finally.
Carrying herself in a regal, almost arrogant manner,
the middle-aged woman started a slow pace in a circle
around the Shadow Weaver. "Names confer power," she
baited. "I'm known by many names, little girl, but my
true name you shall not have!"
She gently slid one talon under Hokuto's unmoving
chin, and the Shadow Weaver found she was too scared to
move. For a moment she imagined that the nightmare was
going to kill her then and there, but the smile... the
eyes... suggested otherwise.
"However," the nightmare continued, "you do interest
me a great deal... Shadow Weaver Takemasa."
Hokuto gasped in surprise, but remembered that this
woman was also in Shampoo's mind, which all three
presently shared. Consequently, their minds were open
if they allowed it, but in this case, the nightmare
broke through Hokuto's defenses without effort.
"You made the watchers," she said boldly. "You knew
we were coming since we got to China."
"That is correct," confirmed the nightmare. "We've
been watching you ever since then. They think you and
your friend will be the ones to turn the tide in the
war, but I know better; your purpose is much different
than what they want. I know what you want."
"And what's that?"
The nightmare chuckled to herself softly. "Forgive
me, but I have other business to attend to. But I do
assure you, we will meet again."
Slowly sliding her claw from under Hokuto's chin the
woman turned to leave, looking over her shoulder in a
sly manner at the frozen Shadow Weaver.
The nightmare disappeared into nothingness in an
instant, and it was only then that Hokuto allowed
herself to budge from her place, relaxing her tension.
Looking around the mindscape, she spotted Shampoo's
consciousness lying near the memory globe, which was
spinning erratically. Hokuto bent down on her knees,
realizing that the Amazon was still clinging to the
waking world.
"Sorry," the Shadow Weaver said, "but I can't have
you going about messing things up, now that you know
those things."
Shampoo's eyes widened, shocked when she realized
what Hokuto was about to do. The Shadow Weaver saw
this, and while she took no pleasure in what she had
to do... it had to be done.
Her palms pulsating with sickening green energy,
lightning bolts lanced out and struck Shampoo
violently, forcing the Amazon into pain. Perhaps it was
fortunate for Shampoo, and maybe fortunate for Hokuto,
that the process lasted no longer than a second, if
even that long.
Standing straight up, the Shadow Weaver began to let
go of her hold in Shampoo's mind. "Yes, we will meet
again... Zhou Tian-long."
"What in the world are you doing?!"
Sypha jumped from her seated position, hiding her
crystal ball behind her back while turning to face the
one who barged into her tent. "L... Lord Taro!!"
Pantyhose Taro tapped his foot ominously on the
ground, his arms folded, expression grim. "Is there
something you're doing that you should be telling me?"
Quickly regaining her composure, the sorcerer
slowly brought her crystal ball into Taro's view,
balancing it carefully on the steel talons of her claw
arm. "I've done a bit of divining, Lord," she
explained. "It appears that the Amazons are going to
attack sometime in the near future."
"Attack?!" Taro echoed, surprised. "When?!"
Sypha shook her head. "I am unsure as to when, but
it WILL be soon!" she insisted. She pursed her ruby
lips and took in a deep breath. "Perhaps even tonight,
if they can muster their forces quickly. The foreigner
girl... she must be dealt with! She is a very powerful
esper...."
"I don't care about the girl," the lord of the
tribe interrupted. "Femme-boy is a joke; he was
unable to prevent our raid, nor could he beat them. If
they're stupid enough to want to fight me THIS soon,
then let them come! They don't have a prayer, without
anyone with half a brain in their camp!"
"As you wish, my lord," Sypha replied, bowing.
She kept her head low, waiting. Taro snorted, and
the sorcerer heard her master turn and leave the tent.
When she was certain he was gone Sypha raised her
head, staring out the tent flap.
"I look forward to meeting you face-to-face," she
whispered to herself. "Hokuto Takemasa, we have much to
discuss... yes...."
"I can't believe it," Mousse lamented, dragging his
feet behind him as he and Ranma headed back for the
hospital tent. "Those Tigers... and I didn't even see
it!"
"At least leadership didn't make Pantyhose Taro any
stupider," Ranma added.
The scouts had reported an attack just outside the
village, and naturally, many of the warriors left their
posts to deal with the threat. However, as they all
realized too late, the attack at the front was merely
a distraction for the real attack at the rear-- it was
reported by the guards of the supply stockade that
Taro himself lead the attack that sent the building
up in smoke. The moment the smoke plume lifted from
the supply house Mousse knew he had been tricked, and
the diversionary attackers soon fled the scene.
"At the rate we're going now," continued the Master
of Hidden Weapons solemnly, "we're not going to last
another week, unless we raid someone else's supply
depot."
"Well, it beats...." Ranma started, but Mousse
signaled him to silence.
From the direction of the hospital tent three of the
young hands were running toward their leader as fast
as their feet could carry them, yelling out Mousse's
name in a worried tone. Already Mousse felt the world
was caving in over him, putting together the single
situation in his mind that could make the day even
worse.
His thoughts were not far from the truth.
"Master Mousse!" cried the leader of the three
youths, a girl no older than seven named Pin. Her
proficiency in the Japanese language was readily-
apparent to Ranma, as he understood as well. "Master
Shampoo has slipped into a coma!"
"What?!" Ranma exclaimed in surprise. "How...?!"
Mousse lowered his head, folding his arms beneath
his sleeves. "I should have known... the Tigers are the
ones doing it!"
Quickly the three youths lead their two elders into
the tent. Many of the other hands were standing around,
looks of sadness for expressions, in Shampoo's
direction. Mousse pushed the outside away from his
thoughts, focusing on Shampoo alone.
She lay on the cot, just as he left her, save the
shaking in her body ceased, and her eyes were closed.
Sitting on her knees next to the cot, her head hung
low, Hokuto Takemasa appeared quite shamed-- for what
reason the martial artist wished to find out.
For a moment, staring down at Shampoo's body, Mousse
was glad he was wearing the glasses he often forgot to
wear, for they hid emotion from the others in view,
particularly Ranma. He resisted the urge to wipe his
eyes with his sleeve, realizing that he needed to be
strong in front of the others.
Shifting his eyes to Hokuto, he resisted the urge to
reach down and grab her by the scruff of her shirt.
"Tell me how this happened... EXACTLY," he commanded
in a harsh, low tone. The Master of Hidden Weapons was
in no mood to play games with the outsider, and he
wanted to make that point doubly clear to the girl.
He could not tell if the girl was crying, but if she
was she was being awfully quiet. When Hokuto did not
say anything-- or move-- immediately, Mousse swung his
foot back threateningly. He could almost feel Ranma's
interference, but the Japanese martial artist was still
keeping his distance. Counting three heartbeats, and
with Hokuto showing no moves to comply with his order,
Mousse gave her a swift blow in the chest.
"Mousse!" Ranma yelled. "Don't hit her!"
Refusing to meet his eyes, Mousse looked down upon
the cowering Hokuto. "The time for decency has passed,
Saotome!" he replied harshly. "I am the master of this
tribe, and so long as you and your friend are my
guests, you will do EXACTLY what I say!"
"Then I'll challenge you!"
Mousse found no amusement in Ranma's words. "Your
challenge is DENIED." He looked down, and realized that
the girl was shielding her face from him. "Now, you
little whore, ANSWER ME!!"
He heard Pin whisper a warning to the Japanese man:
"Don't stop Master Mousse...."
The advice seemed to have struck a chord of reason
in Ranma. "Hokuto," he said slowly, "tell us what
happened to Shampoo...."
If Hokuto had not been crying before, Mousse knew
she was whimpering now-- her voice betrayed her
emotions. "It... it was terrible!" she whispered, her
voice uneven.
"You'd better believe it," Mousse warned. "My
patience these days is rather thin; I suggest you do
it faster."
"Hey, quit being so harsh on her!" Ranma protested.
"We noticed nothing out of the ordinary," Pin
voiced. "We didn't know anything was wrong until this
girl screamed."
Anger flushed through the weapons master's head.
"Well?"
"Give me a sec," replied the girl, wiping the tears
from her cheeks. Hokuto took her time, dabbling herself
with the edge of her cloak, but when Mousse felt his
impatience overflowing she began, "I thought the
nightmare would come back no matter what happened, so
I convinced Shampoo to go to sleep now instead of
later."
"You stupid whore!" Mousse yelled angrily, feeling
the others restraining him from all-out throttling
Hokuto. "What the hell did you do that for?!"
"It was the only way!" Hokuto yelled back defiantly,
standing up literally on her feet to Mousse. Her eyes
met his own, and he saw that the girl was serious.
"I needed to figure out where the nightmare was coming
from while I was still here, NOT while nobody was
around to do anything about it."
"I hope you at least got SOME result!" the Master of
Hidden Weapons replied, refusing to concede any credit
to the outsider's ingenuity.
"When Shampoo fell asleep I waited for the nightmare
to arrive... I can feel it," continued Hokuto, ignoring
Mousse's comment. "The creature attacked savagely! I
could almost feel Shampoo's terror as it ripped her
apart from the inside. Had I not been careful the
nightmare would've gotten me as well."
"And then you woke up," Ranma interrupted. "So what?
You've put Shampoo in a coma for nothing."
"But the nightmare was leaking stray thoughts!"
Hokuto added quickly, before Mousse could think of
another angry rant. "The creature... no, person... was
thinking a name under its surface thoughts... one that
I can't mistake. It kept repeating 'Taro.'"
"There's only one 'Taro' in the Valley," Mousse said,
"and he's a Tiger."
"Looks like you were right," Ranma conceded, cracking
his knuckles. "That guy needs to be taught a lesson or
two!"
"But Pantyhose Taro doesn't resort to sorcery," the
weapons master pointed out. "We should know; it's not
in his style."
"So maybe it's someone under him," guessed the
outsider.
"It must be," agreed Mousse. Turning his attention
back to Hokuto, he asked in a calmer tone, "Did you
learn anything else."
The girl shook her head. "That was it. But I don't
think you should wait too long to attack them; the
nightmare will likely go after you now."
"I see," he said, irritated that the girl reminded
him of that little perk of leadership. "Then I guess
we WILL have to act, after all."
"'After all?'" echoed Hokuto, puzzled. "Something
else happened?"
"Pantyhose Taro burned the supply house," Ranma
answered. "We're going to get him back for it by taking
HIS food."
"It's not going to be THAT simple anymore!" assured
Mousse. "We're going to get him and his people-- or
Shampoo's sacrifice will be in vain!"
Once, in times long passed, one could walk through
the grassy plain of the enclosed Cistern Valley on a
summer night with their bare feet and the barest of
protective wear, walking amongst nature in serenity.
Anyone could see the stars above with great clarity,
as the sky was not contaminated with the pollutants
that plagued industrialized areas. Even the rough,
pale features dotting the moon could be made out on a
clear night, if one looked hard enough.
But those times vanished, along with any hope for
peace amongst the thirteen tribes that lived in the
Valley. The lush green grass was missing patches here
and there, whether from the detonation of explosives or
the mighty blasts of master martial artists. One could
not walk through the land without having to be careful
where they stepped, as discarded weapons of various
origins littered the battlegrounds, threatening to
pierce the skin of those foolish to step on them. At
times one could hear a low moan, carried by the wind
from far away-- the dying cries of a warrior fallen
and forgotten by his comrades. If a traveler were
merciful he would give that person a swift death, but
often that was not the case, as most travelers would
avoid a potentially dangerous man, even if he was
mortally wounded.
It was here, the center of the star-shaped Cistern
Valley, that Mousse and Pantyhose Taro agreed would be
their battleground.
Very rarely in the war of the tribes did the leaders
of two tribes battle personally in a trial of combat--
a traditional rule that allowed two tribes to settle
their differences without resorting to all-out war. In
most cases the leaders were either too old, too weak,
or unwilling to fight, resulting in war. The battle
traditionally took place at the centerpoint of the
Cistern Valley, the nexus of the thirteen tribes, as
ordained by the ones who came before.
As given by tradition the tribal leaders came with
an honor guard made up of four people each, creating a
grand total of five warriors for each side of the
dispute; more people were allowed to come as well, but
served only as spectators of the event. In this case it
was a five-on-five, the two sides facing each other in
the moonlit sky.
Mousse stood confidently ahead of his honor guard,
made up of two Amazon warriors and the two outsiders,
with Ranma and Hokuto on his left, and Ling-ling and
Paste on the right. Although the Master of Hidden
Weapons had reservations on bringing the outsider girl
along, Ranma personally persuaded him otherwise,
citing that she herself did not need to battle. He had
to agree; although it was required for the leaders to
duke it out the honor guard battle was at the
discretion of the warriors involved.
Pantyhose Taro stood with equal confidence on his
side of the battleground, with his honor guard made up
of three warriors-- each carrying a large, heavy-
looking backpack-- none which Mousse did not recognize
off-hand, as the Tigers were not known for their great
fighters. The fourth, who stood immediately to the
right and behind Pantyhose Taro, he knew to be Sypha,
the Chinese woman Mousse knew to be Taro's advisor,
but that was it. It was she who engineered the original
peace summit, but apparently Sypha herself did not
attend-- which put her motives in suspect.
"Well, well, well!" Taro yelled from across the
field. "If it isn't the duck-boy!"
Mousse did not allow the words to bother him, folding
his arms in his sleeves. "Subterfuge... is that what
you've been reduced to, Pantyhose Taro?"
"Don't call me that!" the other leader cried angrily.
"And you! You're trickier than I first believed; using
the cat-girl as a decoy as you did. I almost respected
you for a moment... until I remembered you turned into
a sissy duck!"
"And Femme-boy...!"
"Shut up, Pantyhose...!"
"ZIP IT!! I expected more out of you, than siding
with wimps like your duck friend."
"Lord Taro," Sypha interrupted, stepping to his side.
"Do not underestimate the outsiders," she said, raising
a steel talon in Hokuto's direction, "particularly
THAT one."
"Heh," scoffed Taro, "that girl doesn't look so
tough. Hardly worth my time, or yours, even."
"If she is not dealt with quickly, she could ruin us
in short order!" warned the sorcerer.
"If you're so eager to fight... then by all means!"
ordered the leader. Yelling back in Mousse's direction,
he demanded, "Hey, Duckie! How about we switch battle
partners? Femme-boy is mine; you're not worth my time!"
Mousse held an arm out to stop Ranma's protest. "I
see... but who will take your place as my opponent?"
Taro gestured to the side with Sypha on it. "She's
ALL yours!"
"My lord!" she gasped.
"If you know what's good for you, you'll pay
attention when you fight him," her leader continued.
"Please do give him a good enough fight, will you?"
"I believe this should do for the trial?" Mousse
yelled, adjusting the rim of his glasses. "Surely we
are the only ones worthy of fighting before you!"
"Heh-heh-heh... I'm starting to like you, Duck,"
replied Taro, folding his arms. "It's agreed then!"
Mousse looked toward both Ling-ling and Paste,
nodding, with nods for reply. Casting his eyes in
Hokuto's direction he said, "Stay out of this, no
matter how useful you think you'll be... if you know
what's good for you!"
Ranma caught the Amazon leader's attention. "Well,
let's get this over with," he said, cracking his
knuckles together. "After this, you and I have to talk
a bit."
"That's for sure," agreed Mousse, reaching up his
sleeves for weapons. He produced his own pair of razor
claws, a magical weapon received as a gift. Snapping
the arm brace on his forearm the leader of the Amazons
ran his fingers into the glove-like interior of the
claws, which gave him enough manipulation of the metal
talons to operate as his own hand.
Both he and Ranma walked forward into the battle
area as Taro and Sypha did the same, breaking off to
face their respective opponents. Mousse came to a halt
at the same time Sypha did-- putting the two of them
at a short distance of three meters, which was close-
range considering the unpredictable range of the razor
claws. Since Sypha appeared to have a set of her own,
the distance was definitely too close for his tastes.
Silently he surveyed the woman for the first time.
Appearing in either her late twenties or early
thirties, Sypha dressed, instead of a looser combat
outfit, in archaic Imperial Chinese court dress dating
back to ancient times, along with the numerous tassels
and ornaments hanging here and there. While her regal
dress was hardly appropriate for combat, Mousse sensed
something amiss with the woman, as if she were hiding
her true self under the gaudy getup.
"So you're the student of devils I've heard so much
about," Sypha said finally, tapping herself on the
cheek with the flat of one talon. "Perhaps I was wrong
to side with the Tigers?"
"If you're backing out now...."
"Oh, why would I dream of it?!" the woman interrupted
quickly. "You're much more stone-walled."
"What's that supposed to mean?!" demanded Mousse,
raising his claws in readiness.
Sypha tapped the edges of her talons together in
anticipation, smirking. "It only means I'm going to
have to rend you into ribbons!"
The leader of the Amazons parried Sypha's first
lunge, surprised at her unexpected reach when she
charged. He grit his teeth as steel meshed against
steel. "Then taste the wrath of my cuisenart!"
He broke out of the melee, flipping up and backward
in the air. Halting his spin in mid-air Mousse threw
three stilettos from the folds of his robes at Sypha,
but the regal sorcerer quickly dodged. She raised her
right claw upward, and the weapons master gasped in
surprise as the weapon launched itself in his
direction.
Throwing a bowling ball upward Mousse forced himself
in the opposing direction of the force-- downward, and
away from the launched claw. Landing on his feet he
watched the launched claw sail back to Sypha's
position, sliding back under her sleeve as if it never
left.
"Nice trick," he muttered under his breath, "but an
exploitable weakness...."
Squatting low he dug both his claws into the earth
quickly, focusing his mental target on Sypha's
position. Had he bothered to look with his eyes at his
enemy rather than the earth Mousse would have seen the
giant sword rip through the dirt with great swiftness
in the place where the Tiger sorcerer used to be.
Quickly retracting his claws he raised them to catch an
aerial slash from the descending Sypha, but the force
of her momentum knocked him to his back. Instead of
pinning him Sypha leaped over his downed body and
landed a few meters away.
Rolling to the side to avoid another launched claw
Mousse quickly got to his feet, lobbing three more
stilettos at Sypha while her claw was still in the
return cycle. Instead of deflecting she leaped upward,
and, to Mousse's surprise, the returning claw followed
a path to match perfectly with the docking into her
sleeve. Instinctively he dug his claws into the earth,
forcing several swords to rip up from the ground in a
circle around him, just as Sypha initiated her dive
attack. Just at the last moment, however, she managed
to escape the sword shield, pushing herself back and
away by launching both her claws toward the swords.
Mousse retracted the sword barrier just as Sypha
recovered her claws, resisting the urge to mop his
brow. "She doesn't look it," he said to himself, "but
Sypha's definitely no stranger to fighting."
Sypha held out her arm, beckoning the Amazon leader
with one talon. "Come now; I haven't broken a sweat
yet!" she taunted, her voice carried by the wind to
Mousse. "Is this the best your tribe can put up?"
"I'm only getting started!" he replied quickly.
Before he could attack Mousse stopped himself,
suddenly realizing that Sypha's full attention was no
longer on the battle, as her eyes wandered. His own
eyes followed; gasping, the Master of Hidden Weapons
realized what the Tiger sorcerer was about to do.
Dashing quickly, he yelled, "Hokuto!! Get down!!"
Too late to stop her, Sypha bolted from her position
and rocketed toward where Hokuto was standing, all but
forgotten in the skirmish. The outsider girl bore no
expression of surprise on her face, nor of concern,
even with certain death imminent.
And she had all rights to do so, as Sypha came to a
full stop when Pantyhose Taro stepped between her and
Hokuto, arms folded. The leader of the Tunnel Tigers
looked no more weary than when he started the battle,
nor less in his resolve. Mousse's eyes searched for
Ranma, but he was not far, and far from hurt in any
capacity.
"What did I say?" Pantyhose Taro said sternly,
obviously angry. "I told you NOT to touch her."
"She is an outsider!" Sypha replied angrily. "More
than that...!"
"Tell him," Hokuto interrupted, extending an
invitation of truth. "Tell your master why you've been
scheming behind his back."
"What're you talking about?" Taro asked, keeping his
eyes fully on the sorcerer.
"Tell him about the nightmares you've been sending,"
continued the Shadow Weaver in her challenge. "Tell
him all about how you betrayed the former leader of
his tribe, and all the other leaders, so the war could
continue."
The eyes of all present fell upon the sorcerer, but
Sypha, instead of refuting Hokuto's words, chuckled
softly. "True to your name... Shadow Weaver! I'm not
surprised you skirted my surface thoughts, but do you
really know what I want? Do you?"
"You...." rumbled Taro, raising an angry fist.
"Your idea of a fight involves being physical," Sypha
told him. "Never the one for the supernatural, you
scoffed at the aid I offered you. But you, too, are but
a tool." She produced a crystal ball in her right claw,
balancing it carefully in the talons. "And frankly,
your usefulness has long since expired."
Without warning the sorcerer raised her free arm in
the direction of the three Tigers, lifting their heavy
packs with a force of will. Launching all three in the
direction of the warriors, Mousse gasped in surprise,
realizing the contents of the packs was plain, cold
water; the containers launched a wide stream of water.
In the blink of an eye he saw Ranma transform into a
girl, to the Amazon girls' surprise; he saw Taro
transform into the monster that gave him strength; he
saw Sypha disappear, as well.
In the moment immediately thereafter, the Master of
Hidden Weapons understood what Sypha was after. He cast
a glance in Hokuto's direction, wondering how much more
the outsider knew about the sorcerer who turned on her
master, and why she was fixiated on killing her.
Although he felt no different than before, the eyes
of both the female Ranma and the Taro monster were
fixed on him, surprise betrayed in their expressions.
"What're you looking at?" Mousse asked, waving around
his arms to shake the wetness from his robe.
"Mousse," Ranma said slowly, "we're going to have one
long talk in the morning."
* * * * *
Ranma had no idea why he was dreaming of Shizuka
Minazuki again.
She stood silently in the middle of inky blackness,
dressed in clean, formal priestess dress, staring
outward at nothing. A single light illuminated her,
shining from high above, casting the priestess's
shadow in multiple directions. Ranma noticed that she
had her two swords sheathed, both tied on the left end
of her rope-like belt. From his position behind the
girl he could make out a large double kanji symbol on
her back, which read "Genbu."
He could barely see himself in the blackness, only
able to see a silouhette of his hand when he raised it
to block his view of Shizuka. For a moment the martial
artist wondered why he was no longer the subject of
the dream, but it was soon replaced with relief; it was
a good break in the monotony.
Shizuka reached up her sleeve, producing a strip of
paper that served as a talisman-- a device Ranma knew
that priesthoods used to serve as wards against demons
and the like, and sometimes weapons, depending on what
was written upon it. Even from the distance he stood
away from the priestess of Genbu Ranma could make out
what the talisman read: "Summon," followed by a blank
space, which was clearly reserved for another kanji
character or two.
From seemingly out of thin air the priestess produced
an ofuda rod-- a thin wooden wand with numerous paper
streamers hanging from the top end. Bending down on her
knees Shizuka began tracing a circle around herself,
adding several patterns and characters that made no
sense to Ranma. Before he knew it she completed the
circle-- obviously a summoning circle-- and stepped
out of it. She quickly threw several talismen around
the outside of the circle-- likely protective wards--
and waved the rod around in a seemingly-useless
manner.
Shizuka muttered a few words to herself, which Ranma
could not make out. He slowly worked his way toward
the girl as she spoke her mantra, but stopped himself,
realizing that the priestess would not be happy if he
somehow ruined... whatever it was she was doing.
If she even knew he was there.
It did not take long before Shizuka finished her
mantra, and she threw the summon talisman into the
circle.
The talisman burnt in an instant as soon as it came
within the radius of the circle, and hellish red light
glowed from the trace of the circle. Ranma shielded his
eyes as the intensity of the light grew, but Shizuka
was making no such action, as if she was used to this
type of thing.
He gasped in surprise when a ghostly, boney, white
claw reached out from the bottom of the circle,
seemingly coming from nowhere. The circle, Ranma
realized, was likely a rift to another world, just as
Shizuka tried when she summoned a tengu on him months
before. He watched as the skeletal claw emerged, with
what it was attached soon following. Although the
being was noncoporeal, Ranma could not help but sense
instinctive fear when the monster fully-emerged.
Shizuka had not flinched at the sight of the
skeletal, lizard-like creature. The monster did not
appear as anything living, Ranma knew, but seemed very
similar to the dinosaur bones reconstructed at the
natural history museums. It resembled some sort of
abhorrent cross between a two-legged dinosaur's body
with the long neck and tail of a four-legged dinosaur.
In addition, the creature gave way to its full wing-
span, spreading its skeletal wings out majestically,
inspiring more fear in the martial artist.
Worst of all, the creature was way too big for the
summoning circle.
Still, the priestess of Genbu hardly seemed
impressed by the display of power.
The skeletal-ghost-dinosaur creature spoke in its
native tongue, of which Ranma could not decipher off-
hand, but Shizuka seemed to understand. The voice
inflections gave hints that the creature was not
pleased with being summoned, making the wards doubly
useful.
"Name your terms," Shizuka said plainly, tapping the
rod in her hand.
Again the monster spoke, to which the priestess
nodded in acceptance.
Without warning, the wards seemed to fizzle and die,
leaving Shizuka-- and Ranma-- exposed bare to the
wrath of the ethereal monster.
Shizuka doubled back in pain as a concentrated
ethereal energy shot out from the monster's empty rib
cage, bathing the priestess in the same ghostly light
as the dragon creature. Ranma wanted to shout out her
name, wanted to save her... but found that he could
do neither.
"What the hell?!" he exclaimed, mildly surprised that
this dream allowed him to speak at all. "What's going
on here?!"
"You can't help her," a voice answered.
Ranma realized he knew that voice, but his attention
was too fixed on what was happening between Shizuka
and the ghost dragon to pin-point it. Shizuka's feet
dragged against the ground as her body was drawn to
the rib cage, her expression betraying resistance and
defiance from her fate.
But the next moment proved surprising for the martial
artist as, when he thought she was going to resist
further, Shizuka let go of herself, a smile on her
face. A bright flash of light blinded Ranma, preventing
him from seeing the outcome of the battle. He ran,
fighting against whatever force that was keeping him
away from the summoning circle, adrenaline pumping.
Without warning the force that kept him back released
its hold, and Ranma plunged toward the circle off-
balanced. He collapsed just outside the circle, close
enough to make out the fine details of the ghost
dragon's skeletal body. The martial artist realized
the monster was looking his direction, staring down
with monstrous, pitch-black holes for eyes.
It was not the monster that caught Ranma's eyes as he
raised his head to look upon the ghost dragon's rib
cage. In the midst of bleach-white bones he saw the
priestess of Genbu, curled in a ball in an upright
position, floating in the middle of the cage. Had she
not struggled before Ranma would have guessed she was
in a serene-like trance, judging from her calm,
sleeping expression. Her body was surrounded by the
same eerie glow as the ghost, but with greater
intensity, serving as a sort of full-body shield.
"SHIIIIZUUUKAAAA!!!" he screamed, finding his voice.
But the response did not come from the ghost dragon
itself, but from the girl within. Her lips never
parted, nor did they source from the rib cage, yet
Ranma heard her... as if she were everywhere. "People
forge their own destinies...."
Without warning the ghost dragon's claw raked down on
the martial artist. He did not have time to scream.
Hokuto jerked herself out of her trance the moment
Ranma woke up in a cold sweat, sitting up in his cot.
Although she could not see the martial artist, as
the Shadow Weaver was sitting well outside the village,
she knew what he was doing at the moment-- trying to
sort his thoughts out.
Hopefully he wouldn't notice she was gone from the
tent. She was just glad he hadn't noticed her intrusion
into the dream. Yet.
She shook her head, feeling a headache coming on.
Ranma seemed a simple-minded fool on the surface, but
he possessed sophisticated mental faculties within;
the dreams were proof enough of that. She had not
expected such a dream, much less one of such magnitude,
out of him.
"But why'd he dream of Shizuka?" she wondered aloud.
"And where in the world could these dreams be coming
from? They're obviously not Sypha's doing; Ranma's
too used to them for that."
Whatever the answer, it was worth looking into, she
thought, in whatever little time she had left to
complete her plans.
"It's almost time," she said, looking up into the sky
for the north star. "Soon, I'll be free of this
terrible curse...."
She melted back into the shadows-- true to her name
as a Shadow Weaver-- disappearing without trace in the
night.
* * * * *
Miranda (VO):
"All of Cistern Valley's old farts in one place...
for what reason? Just what is Sypha up to, anyway?
Whatever it is, it isn't a good thing! All her dreams
could come true... but wait! Someone's going to stop
her? No way... because Sypha is...."
"Next time: The Summoning. Don't blink! Heh-heh!"
------------------------------------------------
Author's Notes
More to come soon. Incidentally, 'Sypha' is the
actual name of Strider Hiryu's weapon, not 'Cipher;'
it's mistranslated, but it stuck (just as 'Kelbeross'
is a mistranslated 'Cerberus').
Razorclaw X (spiceoflife@NOREPLYhotmail.com)
http://www.crosswinds.net/~slythe/ranma/ranff.html
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