I know, it's LONG. I honestly don't know how it got so long! Honest!

--- Fic attached:

    Another deep sigh. <I could get to like this place.>

---

    As pleasing as the bath was, James had to get out sooner or later.
He did consider how rude it would have been to stay indefinitely.
Unfortunately, his clothes were a mess, only his pants pulling through
in wearable condition (and even that was up to debate). Ranma offered
James one of his own Chinese shirts, a blue sleeveless deal that James
fit into with only a little space to spare. It did occur to him that
Ranma was just being nice about learning a new technique, and doubly so
since James didn't have anything personal against Ranma.
    Besides, James was just that kind of nice guy.
    Night came uneventfully, and despite his pleading, James ended up
spending the night on the couch (he begged to go elsewhere for quarters,
rather than sleep in the Tendo's house, but...). With the dawn light,
Kasumi found the living room empty. There were a set of well-used
blankets on the couch, but no sign of James-san. Having lived with
martial artists all her life, Kasumi quickly deduced that the new guest
was outside practicing.
    She was not far off. James was outside, but he was not really
practicing martial arts, but meditating. Not meditating about martial
arts either. Every since his little trip had begun (some two months ago,
by his count) things had just gotten weirder and weirder. After the mess
of gang-wars he'd faced down in the last dimension, he felt something
was getting to him. Maybe the stress from repeatedly stepping through
the fabric of time and meeting many alternate versions of the same
punks, 'gangstas', serial killers and general nutcases was getting to
him. Yeah, that might be it. Whatever the reason, he was firmly under
control, and felt much better just by BEING here.
    What wonders fresh air did for the soul.
    Done with his angst for the day, and not even six in the morn,
James set to do some balancing katas from his position on the roof of
the dojo. Yes, the roof.
    Odd guy.
    Forty minutes later, Ranma came flying out of the second-story
window courtesy of the Genma Express and an ordinary Tendo morning had
begun.

    "Guess who made breakfast!" Akane declared proudly from the head
of the table. Genma was human still, thanks to a quick save from James,
who was sporting new bruises. Ranma looked nonplused, and strangely male
for a change.
    The Tendos and Saotomes (excluding Akane, of course) looked at the
self-proclaimed chef in mass horror. Suddenly begging off urgent
business at seven in the morning, the remainder of the table fled. James
glanced around a bit in confusion as Soun muttered something about a
fianc�s duty before bolting. It was still way to early by James'
standards, because even with the very meaning of time bent and twisted
around the new turns his life had taken, James was still James and it
was still _too_ early.
    "I'll have some." Offered James helpfully. Early, but James never
turned down free food when he was indefinitely without house, friends,
or other resources.
    "Are you insane?!!"   "That's great!!!"
    James' eyes bugged out. <What the hell is going on here?> He
straightened his thoughts out before Ranma could open his mouth again,
adverting another Mallet Mashing Disaster unknowingly. "What? It's not
like it can kill me."
    Ranma shook his head once, side to side, slowly. Bad move. His
head then went down very quickly under the full force of the dreaded
Akane Tendo Mallet Masher.
    Maybe disaster was not adverted so easily.
    The one sometimes referred to as the 'kitchen destroyer' turned to
James with a million-watt smile. "Hold on just a sec and I'll have you
set."
    Before James could raise even his voice in question, a hot (read:
recently flamb�ed), pile of... something dark and ugly, was shoved in
front of him on a plate.
    <Ooh, a plate. I didn't think they'd use many of these in Japan.
Hell, you always see people eatin' out of bowls and stuff, usually Miso
soup. Yeah, Miso sounds pretty good right now, even some of that...
whatcha callit, sushi, yeah! That sounds pretty good too. Neat breakfast
they serve here too, nice style. But this... this...>
    "James-san? Are you going to try some?"
    James blinked. Damnit, he was doing it again, and Akane's
cheerfulness was looking a little strained. He boldly grabbed his
chopsticks, grateful for numerous late-night lessons in foreign fast-
food consumption during his college 'daze.' Quickly he put one bite of
the... <food? Is this really food?!> stuff in his mouth, and chewed
quickly.
    Stars erupted behind James' eyes; his brain felt like it was being
stampeded by a heard of elephants. Reality itself twisted and distorted
and his tongue tried to jump out of his tightly closed mouth. "Mmmm." He
paused, forced down the bile. <Gotta make this look good!> He didn't
dare roll the... (he was still trying to find a word to describe it,
toxic waste didn't do this cooking justice) er, stuff around his mouth.
Time to swallow...
    _GULP_
    <Ugh. Even worse going down.> James though dejectedly. Well, not
like the food would get any better, but even he knew better than to
insult a female's cooking so blatantly as to... urm, later with that. He
especially knew better when they put on this much charm with whatever
they cooked.
    "Fantastic Akane! Here Ranma, take a bite! We have to be off soon
anyway, but keep up the good work!" James spewed out in one slush of
words, jamming a bite of the concoction into Ranma's mouth as revenge
for not giving him a more thorough warning. Then he bolted to his feet
and grabbed Ranma's school bag in one swift motion, not knowing in the
slightest it was Saturday despite Ranma's cries to the very fact not
long ago when his father had awakened him for training. Then they were
gone in a cloud of dust, only Ranma catching the gentile smile on
Akane's face. The one that made her look so cute...

    Five blocks away, James halted as though he had stepped into a
puddle of superglue and began doing a nice imitation of a drunken frat
guy in someone's bushes. Ranma himself didn't look so well either, but
between having faced this horror before, and the elation that James had:
One, made Akane smile, and two, Got them out before any damage could be
done, combined to give him the strength needed to stay on his feet.
    "My God!" James shouted after reviewing his seven course meal from
two days ago... but not continuing as a fresh bout of 'Ralph' syndrome
caught him. Ranma just stood there and tried to look half-amused (which
was the usual for him) and half-innocent (which never worked for him,
but at least he was trying not to get arrested for defacing someone's
property).
    By the bushes, James continued to salute his shoes.

    At this point the author would like to apologize for the number of
disgusting and misplaced jokes that have just occurred. If you would
like a refund, remember this fic is non-profit. Hmm, which pretty much
puts and end to this author's apology, since asking for money to fix the
problem would be slightly... er... illegal(?) here.
    We now return you to your fic, already in progress.

    "Damn, man! You could have warned me!!!" James was unhappy. This
didn't happen all that often, but when it did, he felt the need to
search for a responsible party (some kind of genetic urge, he swore),
not himself, to blame for the whole thing.
    And Ranma universally got blamed for everything, so...
    "It could be used as weapon for crying out loud! That was food at
one time in recent history?! Unreal! This stuff is--"
    "James?"
    "Yes?!"
    "You're shouting."
    "Oh... yeah. But, you see where I'm coming from?"
    "All too well. Look, I told ya and all, and ya tried it anyway, so
it _ain't_my_fault_."
    "You're right Ranma. Sorry for yelling. Nice weather, storm
excluded..."
    "I didn't--" The most recent of recent events hit Ranma rather
hard. "-not... my... fault?" It came out in a whisper.
    "Yeah. I'm just a little edgy, y'know, something is going on, and
sooner or later, it's coming for us."
    Ugh. Thought Ranma. Probably more _water_.
    As it turned out, water would later be involved, but the form of
one blind Chinese restaurant waiter and part-time wannabe Ranma assassin
was the next thing to cross Saotome's vision.
    "SAAAOOOTOME..." Mousse growled, staring at James in a very
unpleasant manner.
    "Me?" James barely got out of the way of a half-dozen throwing
stars pelted the bushes behind him, followed shortly by two swords, a
half-dozen explosive eggs, five Nagitas and a training potty.
    "Mousse, over here!" Shouted Ranma, standing just a few feet away
from the ruckus.
    James blinked. Ranma was inadvertently saving his hide! How did
stuff like this keep happening?! How was he still alive?!
    Mousse turned on Ranma like a bear fresh out of hibernation, only
a blur to James' eyes. For several seconds, neither fighter offered nor
gave any quarter as James just looked on in shock. Then the oddest thing
happened. One second Mousse was letting loose an apocalyptic amount of
weaponry at Ranma, the next it was a power line pole. A good, solid,
metal-and-concrete pole too.
    "Damn man, and I thought worldline 1703-X77R was dangerous."
    "Huh?" Ranma intelligently inquired, picking at a new tear in his
shirt.
    "Just a random thought. Ah, where were we? Food and clothing, I
believe."
    "Sure, whatever." Said Ranma, distractedly poking at the hole in
his shirt.
    "Ouch, man."
    And somewhere, hidden in the bushes, away from the raging Mousse
and a good distance from something that Akane once called cooking and
James once foolishly put in his mouth, a small object grinned the grin
of the predatory, and followed its prey.

    James had never been to a mall in Japan on his homeworld, and
despite the fact that he considered himself an avid traveler--er, of his
own planet, that is--he quickly found that he wasn't all that into malls
in Japan. It wasn't the large glass and modern lighting that he was
familiar with back in the states, but more of a group of semi-indoor
markets and restaurants all blended together with the atmosphere of five
rats being electrocuted in a blender. Liked, no, but he could get used
to it.
    Since wandering aimlessly was likely to draw a lot of stares, in
spite (or perhaps because) of his nearly flawless Japanese, James
resolved to try and stick close to Ranma. This made things Better,
because Ranma was apparently seen around a lot of really weird stuff. An
American speaking fluent Japanese and wearing a trashed set of clothing
was not unusual enough to draw too many stares. At least he was well-
known here.
    "Hey, Ranma!" James flinched, then ducked aside at the sound of
the voice, watching the angle between him, Ranma, and a basket of
fresh... er, vegetable of some kind. No knives followed the voice,
however, just a second call.
    "Yeah, what are you doing out here?"
    And lo, did James breathith a sigh of relief. The two teens
actually looked nonplused about him, and weren't fling weapons or high-
powered punches, or ki blast, or nucl-- just a couple of kids James,
_relax_.
    Just a couple of kids.
    "Ranma, is this a friend of yours, or did he just follow you
here?"
    The lighter haired one laughed rudely at that, and James was
suddenly of the mindset that perhaps this boy would benefit from a
skillfully applied concussion.
    "C'mon, guys, this is just a visitor here for a few days. A..."
    "Traveler." James interjected smoothly.
    The two stopped laughing.
    "Wha-- YEAOUCH!!!" James suddenly started doing the Chinese fire
drill, with the addition of an actual sleeve of his--er, Ranma's shirt
on fire. Somewhere in the dungeon that was the Rahn mind, a one-eyed
hunchback made a note to watch out for candle vendors in the future.
    After finally dunking himself in someone's tank of fish
(apparently set up for selling lunch) to put out the flames, and
apologizing profusely, James returned to the scene of the crime to
confront an angry Ranma.
    "SOoo, thought you'd just torch my _clothes_ now, eh?"
    "You can have what's left of mine ba--no, better idea."
    "Wha, huh?"
    "I'll just buy you a replacement."
    "Umm, can you afford that?" James turned to the boy who had made
the comment.
    "Last time I questioned the need to keep a good supply of yen on
hand, I was flat-broke in the middle of Tokyo proper. The time before
that, I thought it might be a good idea to keep some on-hand at all
times. Y'know, just in case. Well, I ended up Baghdad. They don't use
Yen very much over there. But THAT is a whole other story." James
snapped his arm out to the side, flinging off some of the excess water.
"For now, I shop."
    The two shook their heads.
    "Here?" Ranma questioned.
    "Downtown probably."
    "Watch the traffic." Hiroshi remarked.
    "I'll see ya back at the dojo, okay?"
    "Eh? Oh yeah. Have fun with your friends."
    "And watch out for the old freak."
    "The what?"
    Ranma mumbled past a mouthful of noodles as Daisuke paid the cook.
"Short, wrinkled, staying at the Tendos. You wanted his mirror,
remember?
    "You mean that ball of ugly--TENDO'S?!!"
    "..."
    "He didn't look very happy." Remarked Hiroshi a moment later.
    "No," Said Daisuke, helping Ranma remove the shirt James had been
wearing a moment ago from the young martial artist's mouth. "Not happy
at all."

    James ran to the Tendo dojo like his hair was on fire, but without
all the yelling and screaming and smoke and... well, you get the idea.
He was basically running out of time. Somewhere, in the back of his
mind, he knew that if he didn't make good on his little mission this
world would be doomed.
    Simple solution: get the mirror.
    "This would have been a lot easier if Ranma had just told me this
when I showed up!" He ranted to himself angrily. "I could have finished
this up yesterday and wouldn't have to be running all over Japan looking
for a two foot tall freak of nature with an underwear fetish." He
neglected to mention that yesterday he was in no shape to take on a
martial arts master who could defeat Ranma. Even Ranma had admitted it-
-not in so few words--and that had James a bit worried.
    James paused to consider his own words for second, only the sound
of his shoes beating the pavement echoing in his ears.
    "I must be losing it, that didn't sound as bad as I thought it
would."
    A scant five minutes later, the uncanny dimension-hopper arrived
at the Tendo dojo via sidewalks and the occasional rooftop. Seemed it
was quicker to take the high road in a couple of cases. He paused one
house away from his goal, scanning the area for trouble ahead.
    Nothing that would stop him on a normal day. There was his target,
the attic. He had to get to the attic. The mirror was in the attic.
Where were the Tendos?
    Again, the situation tried to bother him. Not only was he doomed
to forever save one flagging reality after another, but here he was,
leaping rooftops for transportation one minute ago to sneak into the
house of the only hospitable people he'd met the next. All of it to
steal a mirror with a crack in it.
    Someone had tossed the dice while on PCP when James' fate was
cast, he was sure of it. A shame there was nothing to laugh about when
the subject of his concerns was the fate of all existence.
    All clear.
    "Hmm." James hmm'ed.
    James dropped to the yard noiselessly and pressed his back against
the house. Sounds of someone straining to practice Anything Goes in the
rear yard shortly reached his ears. Fine. He could get inside the house
anywhere from here. The windows were usually unlocked anyway.

    The window was opened easily, the room scanned with practiced
ease. Akane's room, James noted, with the window unlocked. Ranma said
she regularly got into trouble with people just inviting themselves in,
you'd think she'd learn to lock the sucker after a while. Well, she was
in the backyard doing katas, so she wouldn't mind. Right?
    Up to the end of the hall, stop Happi's little trap door. Pause
for breath...
    BAM!
    James stood ready just inside the entrance to the lech's lair,
eyes twitching, peering into every darkened inch. Silence. No one was
there.
    "Eeeeeexcellent." James Mr. Burns'ed.
    And with that final declaration, the Traveler started his
systematical search of the Lair of Evil, one pile of women's
undergarments at a time. Something was striking salty tines of danger in
his brain, but he let it slide. After a few minutes of searching, it
became clear that this was not going to be a picnic. Among other
reasons, the stupid tattoo was really starting to hurt, like someone was
holding a branding iron to his arm. Second, the mirror was still nowhere
to be found. Third, it smelled... well, bad wasn't _quite_ the word.
    Wait a minute...
    James stood straight up in the center of the room, extending the
marked arm out like divining rod. He then slowly turned in a circle, the
mark--the bane of his very strange existence--sparkling red and drawing
rainbow-colored light streaks in the air. Point this way, stings worse,
flashes more. Point over there, little hurt, little flash. Point... ahh,
Sailor Moon transformation type flashing. Hot and cold.
    Bingo.
    James walked into the indicated corner of the room, which didn't
stick out in any way. It wasn't really boring, it just didn't leap to
the mind as anything remotely important. The work of a true martial arts
Master. James paused, then carefully reached his hand into the pile of
cloth, grasping a small metal object that had some substantial weight.
    Pulling it free, James was greeted with a very old-looking silver
mirror. "Cool." He turned and-
    "So." Sneered the master of Anything-Goes Lechery.
    "That would be my brother, I'm James." James tried to one-line.
    "Your evil shall not go unpunished, 'James', and your loss of
trust shall be your downfall!"
    James made a 'harumph!' type of noise and decided to get down to
business. "You want the mirror, you can take it!"
    Happosai's eyes narrowed. James remained in position, watching the
old man like a hawk. For long seconds, nothing happened, just the sight
of one very large, very tall American staring at one very small, very
old, very, very lecherous and very powerful martial artist.
    Until James made a grab for the panties.
    When in doubt, attack the other guy's principle.
    "NO!" Happosai screamed, whipping out a spheroid... thing that had
a fuse on it and looked disturbingly like a ridiculous cartoon bomb, and
tossed it at James.
    James stopped on the proverbial dime--the explosive sailing right
past the front of his face--and turned to face the master, who was
nearly glowing with anger. James lowered his eyes. "Here," He held out
the mirror.
    "That's more like it!" Happi swiped the object from James' hands
at warp 5, and James was immediately after another pile. "Hey! You
INGRATE!"
    BOOM!
    This time the dimension-traveler turned timeline savior turned
petty thief got blasted out of the attic in a cloud of dust, wood
splinters, and women's underwear. He stood up in the middle of an alley
some five blocks away, with a minor number of scratches and bruises. At
least the lech wasn't trying to kill him. He'd live.
    Then he paused to look at his clothing.
    "Oh shit," Then he carefully pocketed the mirror. It looked like
that little task had cost him something important after all.

    Back in the attic....
    "That weakling. No fighting talent at all. Stupid gaijin..."
Mumbled Happosai, looking at his prize.
    "Wha?" A plate of Akane's cooking stared at the Master. Well, not
literally, but a few more minutes and it just might.
    The master stared back at the plate.
    The master was getting a little confused.
    The master got angry.
    Then the master paused to wolf down the food like a starving man,
then turned to recover what was rightfully his from the hands of the
intruder... just... just as soon as his stomached stopped hurting.
    "Oh, Akane-chan, why? Owwweee...." Pained Happosai from his fetal
position on the floor.

    In the relative safety of a street, some ten blocks away from the
Tendo's, James smiled.
    Maybe this would be a piece of cake after all. Maybe.
    He held the mirror at arms length, looking it over as well as he
could for now. The tattoo had stopped hurting as soon as he left the
scene of the crime, and hadn't bothered him since. He wondered why the
blasted thing acted like a dog biting its owner to help navigate him.
Maybe a pleasant voice in English was too much to ask? However nice it
was to have some kind of indicator to his goals, he would still vastly
prefer something that didn't distract him by causing pain. Not that
there was anything he could do about it, of course, but if he did find a
way to 're-program' the thing, or whatever, he would take a chance.
    He took a shortcut to the nearby park Ranma had taken him through
on his first day in town and just wandered for a while, taking in the
sights and sounds of a modern Tokyo suburb. It was handy to know the
language, but a little distracting when he wanted to feel isolated. From
experience, he felt isolated only when there was no one around or when
any people within earshot spoke a language he couldn't understand.
    It was a strange feeling to have people about, but feel like you
weren't part of the whole, like a benign but still unwanted cancer.
Thankfully, even though he was in Japan, Nerima was a very homely place.
Seeing Ranma's curse in action was awfully strange, and to hear the boy
talk, it seemed like his condition was quite unusual, including unwanted
fianc�es and all.
    Despite the craziness, it was still pleasant just to stop for a
moment and breathe; something he hadn't done very much as of late.
Maybe, just maybe, he could retire to a place like this someday.
    Someday.
-----------------------------
    Some philosophers think that the universe is a thing of order and
chaos, and the two must always be kept in balance. In a smaller, more
focused school of thought, it is widely believed that opposites attract-
-when referring to people, not just inanimate objects. An observant
person would note that the two areas are virtually the same; chaotic
people draw people of order to balance themselves and visa-versa.
    People like James Rahn and Ranma Saotome just think the universe
selectively has it out for him/him/her. That said, it was no great
surprise to either party that one came flying out of the air to crash
into the other, who was out lamenting his trashed clothes.
    "Hey," Said Ranma, getting off of James and dusting himself off.
    "Hey yourself," Remarked James, regaining his feet likewise and
looking forlornly over his more or less worthless outfit.
    "James, ya look like crap. What happened?" Asked Ranma.
    "The resident master martial artist. You?"
    "Akane,"
    "Forget I asked. Ready to go shopping?"
    "Again? Aww, I just came _from_ the mall,"
    "Oh," James grew a crooked little smile before Ranma stomped it
out with a glare. "Really?" James said seriously.
    "Yeah, her an' Yuka were out... ya know, doin' girl stuff and
shopping and things... and,"
    "You said hi, she remarked something else, you put your foot in
your mouth and she took one passenger on the Akane express, right?"
    "Umm, that's about it. Say, why aren't you dead? Did ya really go
after the old lech?" Ranma questioned, nervous to talk about his latest
argument with Akane.
    "Well, he kinda tossed me around a bit, but nothing I couldn't
handle. All the piles of underwear were perfect for making a soft
landing."
    "You actually got into his 'collection'?" Said Ranma in genuine
surprise.
    "A master thief should go right to the heart of the matter, or
some such bunk like that. At any rate, I feel the need for a suit coming
on, and since I have nothing better to wear--"
    "And you're wearing it."
    "Er... yeah. Anyway, back to the mall?"
    Ranma shrugged. "Fine. I don't wanna go home just--"
    The ground started to rumble. It wasn't serious shaking by any
stretch of the imagination, but James looked a bit surprised. Ranma just
stood in place, taking the tremor in stride. Then James shrugged. Japan.
Earthquakes happened frequently here, big deal.
    Then Ryouga came blasting up from the ground--literally--forcing
Ranma to roll away into a fighting crouch to shield himself from the
debris.
    James looked totally nonplused. "Hi,"
    "Um, hello. Do you know the way to..." Ryouga began, then blinked
at the Traveler as the dust settled. "Why, aren't you?"
    "American? Tall?" James grinned, a little disturbingly. "DUSTY?!!
Look at this!" James started mumbling.
    Ryouga pulled himself out of the hole his entrance had made, his
pack and umbrella clearing the edges with room to spare.
    "Shishi hokudan?" Questioned Ranma, off to the side, as James
started warming up a full-scale senseless rant.
    Ryouga nodded his ascent. "Yeah. Who is this guy?"
    It was Ranma's turn to blink, though not from the dust. "His
name's James Rahn. He's... uh, from another dimension--or so he says."
    "He a martial artist?" Asked Ryouga.
    "Not really." Then Ranma grinned. "Against you, I could
understand."
    "Ranma..." Ryouga started to growl in his throat.
    "Save for later, piggy, I'd rather not get rolled twice today. I
just wanna enjoy the scenery. The scenery, great and luscious and--is
taht rock garden? Look at this place, I'm TRYING TO TAKE A VACATION here
and..."
    Under normal circumstances, this line of 'conversation' would have
grown into a full-blown brawl between Ranma and Ryouga, but the sight of
a gaijin going into full rant mode proved a distraction strong enough to
hold off the long-time rivals from getting it on in a public park.
Besides, James was something new in a cesspool of strangeness, and
deserved some close watching, lest he start causing trouble.
    "James!" Ranma shouted in the Traveler's direction.
    "-power of the universe, might I... eh, what?"
    "You were going shopping?"
    "Yes. Shall we?"
    Ryouga looked at Ranma. "We?"
    "He's like this," Ranma said as if answering.
    "WAHAHAHA!!! NOW I HAVE YOU!"
    "Wha--?" Ranma barked in surprise before a projectile of lechery
bowled him over to come straight at James.
    It was only pure reflex that kept James from mortal harm as he
dodged to one side, letting the blurring brown ball that was the Master
of Anything Goes Lechery blow past him.
    "-the hell was that?!" James finished as he regained his feet.
    The figure--well under a meter in height--drew up on its tiny legs
and fixed James with a look of hatred. "I have you now, you worthless
thief!"
    "Who, me?" Asked James.
    To any sane human being, the battle aura Happosai was emitting
usually sent a direct message to the brain stating 'RUN AWAY NOW!'. For
James, a tickle at the back of his neck was the only warning he had
before facing Happosai's wrath.
    "STEALING! From MY collection! You're all the same. Not one shred
of respect--"
    "Old man, this goes way beyond you, I, and underwear, okay. Now
just drop it."
    "I don't think so, but fine. If that's the way you want to play
things..." The Master reached into his uniform to grasp a small piece of
folded paper and shake it menacingly in James' direction. "I can play
just fine!"
    Without further need for vocal communications, James, Ranma and
Ryouga tackled the master as one, smashing the ugly ball a good two feet
into the sidewalk. All three fighters stood up a second later, one
crushed pervert at their feet.
    "Well, at least I feel better. TO THE SUIT!" James powerposed.
    "I wish more gaijins were this funny," Ryouga was heard commenting
as the trio made their way towards some clothing shop in the distance.
In their wake, the short figure stirred slightly.
    "I shall not forgive this, James Rahn. You will regret the day you
crossed me!"
    And so it began.


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