Dedicated to Love, Hiroshi, and Faith.
   May we all some day find our Truth and be complete.
       -Kaoru




                 Shades of Gray

              A poem by Shimitsu Kaoru

Mine Vision bestowed with black and white,
     Mine Heart indulged in thus cruel world's stage.
Eyes unseeing judge twixt wrong and right,
     Soul thus imbued polarities rage.

Thine eyes do see thus how twisted formed
     That 'Truth' wherein no exception hides,
Share not the furies mankind has worn....
     See truth with thine blessed inward eyes.

This, thy stage, unjustly given life
     Thy soul weighed with rules and thus condemned.
Taught proudly yin and yang's bitter strife...
     Never name thy passion thus a friend.

A world whence monotony didst thrive
    Did bare you proudly up with open arms.
Shun the views of healthy, proper lives...
    And then embrace the truth's blessed charms.

This sphere doth not run on left or right
    Nor are there lines which cut thine soul in two.
Good and Evil vary in degrees,
         Single sin does not to hell accrue.

Tis' not black ink writ on ghostly page
     Tis' grande plethora of unique days.
Recall thy world's damned imbued rage,
     For your life is marked in Shades of Gray.



Fragile Clay: Volume the Third
(Shades of Grey)
"Refractions of the Past"



 Rain.  A flash.  A rolling sound that shakes the roofs of those below.  The
sky quilted with dark gray clouds, lightning flashing every few moments.

 Beneath the rain.  A small town, the rain cascading gently, falling in
sheets upon the multitudinous roofs of the people inhabiting tiny houses
below the clouds.

 There is laughing within some of the houses.  There is singing, and some
are already fast asleep, escaping to a world of their own making.  A world
in many ways better than our own.

 The icy rain outside frigid and unyielding in its relentless attack,
thousands upon thousands of tiny silver javelins striking the earth, the
trees.

 Nerima.  A place of excitement, adventure, the very word brings to mind
wandering warriors, prideful samurai, and skilled Amazons.  Yet all is
quiet, as it has mostly been for many months now.  Behind closed doors
people have begun to wonder.

 Where has all the magic gone? The adventure? It was once common to see a
mob chasing a shriveled pervert with a dull brown satchel slung over his
shoulders, the sun beating down upon the city mercilessly as martial artists
demolished buildings with inhuman ease.

 A week of rain.  A week, and no sign of cease.  Truly, in fact, it has
escalated.  An inch of the wet substance coated the roads; lawns were
drowned out and muddy red.

 Rain.  A flash.  The accompanied sound of thunder vibrates the roofs once
more.  Tea, steaming hot.

 Thunder shakes the walls of the Tendou dojo, the sound of water cascading
off the roof and smattering against the muddy ground, water logged trees
bend and shake in the wind, droplets clinging to their leaves.

 The world's colors dulled, darkened in the wake of the storm.  Almost black
clouds boiling overhead, shifting and mixing.

 Rain.  A flash.  Two delicate hands lift the teacup, the misty steam rising
from the calm brown swirling liquid as the edge of the round porcelain cup
is raised, gently caressing to full red lips.

 The streets soaked, a car on the curbside, left abandoned in the downpour.
Lightning flashes again, the thick layer of water on the street reflecting
the light, making the road seem to glow for a brief instant.

 She sniffs the tea, taking in its heady aroma.  A part of her sighing
within as she carefully sips it.  Its warmth does not touch her soul.  The
others sit quietly, some watching her carefully.

 Ranma stared into her tea.

 Rain...

 *  *  *  *  *  *

 The clack of polished wood on polished wood, the smattering of rain upon
the back porch.  Soun Tendou stared at the board intently; his hand on his
chin, the opposite on his hip, back slightly hunched.

 Black.  And White.  A large panda stares at the board as well, it's all too
human eyes looking inward as well as upon the flat board.  It shivers and
shakes, it's bristly fur damp from the rain.

 A tapping noise, a combination of dull gray buttons with numbers printed on
them.  Then the scratching of a pencil on the paper of a financial ledger.
Nabiki replaces the pencil to its place behind her ear, her other hand
brushing hair behind the opposite lobe.  Looking up, her piercing analytical
eyes took on a troubled sadness at the redhead staring intently into her
tea.

 The soft rustling of cotton fabric, and the gentle swaying of a dark yellow
dress.  A tray in hands, Kasumi gently sets it upon the table, the kettle
now full and warm.  An old kettle, with more than its share of dings and
scrapes.  Not all from average daily use.

 Kasumi flips her ponytail over her shoulder, looking at Ranma, "Ranma-kun,
would you like anything else?" She asks, sunshine and rainbows in her voice.
Yet there is no smile on Kasumi's face, something that once seemed an
unshakeable piece of Kasumi Tendou's soul now is quite vacant from her
cheery demeanor, her melodious and motherly tones.  Ever since that Day.

 The sound of glass on the smooth table's surface, a soft tap as the cup of
half full tea is calmly set down.  Sapphire eyes look back at Kasumi, and a
soft smile ushers across even softer lips, "No, Thank you Kasumi-Oneechan,"
the words are soft, lilted, feminine beyond a doubt.  Pale skin shines with
the color of peaches and cream, slightly whiter than normal from the cold
rain outside.  Ranma has just returned from a long walk in the rain.

 Now there is a frown, Kasumi's brow furrows and her face takes on a tense
look, "Ranma-kun, are you sure?" She wishes she could be more helpful, *Kami
Knows,* She tells herself, *I was not helpful when Ranma needed me.*  Yes,
when Ranma had needed her to be firm, she was weak in the face of the storm.
Shame.

 A small hand... so small and delicate, it reaches out, wrapping around the
handle of the kettle.  It gently lifts, and with a slight tip the hot
contents cascade shimmering through the air, sparkling tea seeming to dance
and then sing as it collides with red hair, red hair melting into a thick
midnight black as the water covers it.

 Ranma sets the kettle down, standing up, "I'm sure," His words identical to
the tone he used just moments before, "Scuse me," He says, bowing formally
to Kasumi.  Then he turns, the house slippers on his feet making a soft
whispering noise as he walks upstairs.

 Nabiki's eyes sting as she watches him go.  *Ranma, the poor caged animal,*
Her head slowly shakes, the hair framing her face swaying as she does so.
Her mind wanders back, wondering how she could have stopped Hiroshi.  She
finds nothing.  Or, at least, nothing she was willing to commit herself to.

 "I wish there was something we could do," Kasumi now speaking in a sad
manner, none of the ribbons and lollipops of her previously cheery demeanor.
Her skirt ruffles as she takes a seat at the table, clasping her hands in
front of her as she stares at her lap, "This must be my fault, for not
getting through to him sooner about how he was acting," there is shame in
the way she speaks.  A deep self-grievance that Kasumi could not afford to
forgive.

 Soun looks at her in bafflement, his jaw moving like a codfish for a
moment, "Kasumi! How could you say such a thing, my dear? It was that
dreadful Hiroshi's fault, it was," There's no doubt he believes it, where it
once always had to be Ranma's fault, now it must be Hiroshi's.  A simple
transfer of blame, where before the blame had not always been just... but
then, Soun is always quick to blame, as is everyone else.

 Nabiki's hands almost crush the calculator as if it were made of paper; her
eyes dart up at her father, who stares back in silent confusion.  "Daddy, if
it is Hiroshi's fault, how about you explain to us HOW it is?" A request.  A
simple request, one that she is sure he won't be able to answer to.

 Soun crosses his arms, thinking for a long moment, "The way I see it, if
the boy had only kept his fool mouth shut, none of this would ever have
happened.  Ranma is not at fault for someone playing with his mind, it was
dishonorable of Hiroshi to play with his best friend's heart as well!" Soun
nods to himself, as if to compliment himself on his good thinking.

 Without a sound, the panda sitting opposite Soun stands, looking with as
much fury as the bear can muster at his once friend.  Garbled growls and
muffled sounds emit from the bear's mouth, anger evident in its gestures.

 Soun stands quickly, ignoring the board as it topples over onto the ground
sending pieces to litter the floor, the clattering of pieces mixing with the
sound of rain on the roof.  "Saotome! Not you as well? What of our promise?
The engagement?" The sky flashes, and then the thunder shakes the walls once
more.

 Genma once more begins with frantic, angry actions.  His wrath escalating
as he waves vehemently, the noises incomprehensible yet somehow
understandable.

 Soun turns his back on his friend, shaking a hand, "Nonsense, Ranma is
fine.  He only needs some time to get his wits about him, then we can go
forward with the marriage just as we'd always planned," Soun tries hard to
ignore his middle daughter's piercing gaze, yet he is not entirely
successful.

 Genma growls once more, and then with a swift turn, tromps upstairs after
his pride and joy.  There is a tension in the household, ever since two
weeks ago.  Two weeks ago, when Miramoto Hiroshi vanished around the corner.

 Vanished out of Ranma's life.  The weather seeming to match Ranma's mood,
seemingly confused for a full week, deciding if it should snow, remain
sunny, or perhaps rain... then settling on rain finally.  Rain and Rain and
more Rain.

 The nigh silent sliding of a door, followed by the shaking of two-bamboo
umbrellas.  "We're home, everyone!" Came the firm, steady voice of Nodoka
Saotome.  If you listen carefully, you may hear the anger underneath her
casual mood, Nodoka yet another person struggling for someone to blame for
the dark spiral her child continues to descend into.

 The soft rustling of a school dress ushers Akane into the scene, she looks
from Kasumi to Soun (Whom is silently assembling board and pieces back in
their rightful place) before settling her eyes on Nabiki.

 Nabiki gives a curt shake of her head, a serious look in her eyes as her
hair once more sways slightly with the movement.  Akane nods in response,
sighing, her eyes slowly closing as her own head turns back and forth.
Sadness in the gesture as her shoulders slump, her arms hanging limp...
useless at her sides.

 "Soun? Where has my Husband gotten to? I thought you both would have been
having your usual evening game of Shogi," It is a casual question, yet there
is a hint of suspicion in her words... suspicion, and perhaps accusation.
Genma the coward.  Genma the worm who retreats from anything threatening.

 Kasumi's fingers gently caress the fabric of her dress, working wrinkles
out that are mostly nonexistent, "Father and Mister Saotome had a short
argument, I'm afraid, Aunt Nodoka," Kasumi lowers her eyes to the tea
kettle, fixating her gaze on a small drop of liquid that seemed to be trying
to decide whether to fall, or remain at the tip of the kettle's spout.

 An impregnable stare is cast upon Soun, "Is this true, Soun? Has my Husband
been having choice words with you?" A pity, she thought, that recent events
would be the only thing to actually make Genma grow a spine of any sorts.
Nodoka frowns, forcing herself to stop twisting her wedding ring in that
almost habitual manner.

 Soun, seeming as if reprimanded, bows his head in a nod.  His mouth opening
to speak, yet before he can utter a single word, Akane's voice is heard.

 "Auntie, is that really important?" Akane asked, taking a seat across from
Nabiki.  Her hands firmly yet carefully folded in her lap, her back a little
stiffer than usual.  Perhaps less in anger and more in tension.

 *Your anger was always your one flaw, Akane... always...* She muses sadly
to herself, an anger that burns so hot can sometimes burn the wielder far
beyond repair.  Her perfect dream, Ranma the shining hero, her the fragile
heroine, all shattered in a moment of her uncontrollable rage.

 A sidelong glance, an arched brow as Nodoka considers Akane, "Are you
saying you would condone Genma's support of Ranma's confusion?? Ranma
doesn't need time, he needs discipline to understand the choice he must make
in the end, Akane... a choice that I PRAY will involve you deeply," Her
words are sharp, crisp, clear in gesticulation.

 "But what if we're wrong, Auntie??? Maybe Ranma needs time to heal, instead
of being pushed by everyone around him," Akane's words are thick with
unease; her thinking had been much the same, in that regrettable moment of
anger.

 "Akane, my daughter, don't tell me that you actually agree with Saotome??
Surely you want to marry Ranma, do you not?" Soun asks, suddenly very close
to Akane, and very intent on her answer.

 Akane shakes her head, tears brimming in her eyes... Hot and burning in her
eyes, "No! I... I mean... yes, yes, But I love him, Auntie, I Love him with
all of my heart! Doesn't that mean I have a say in anything? Doesn't that
mean that you should, maybe, just consider what Ranma needs instead of what
we all need?"

 Nodoka's eyes gaze firmly upon Akane, noting the girl's confused
discomfort, noting how on edge Akane is.  Akane hasn't known what to think
since that singular dreadful act of violence that brought about harsh
revelation.

 A short bark of a laugh, filled full to the brim with bitter bile, "Isn't
that what we've ALWAYS done, Akane? Isn't that what made Hiroshi so
special?" Nabiki frowns, suddenly very serious again, "You think we can hope
to replace that?? You've got to be kidding, Sis," Nabiki's heart aches as
she notices the crestfallen expression on Akane's face.  Her heart leaps
again, in agonizing pain, when she hears Akane begin sobbing into her
hand... then into both hands.

 Nabiki shows no hint of remorse, her face remaining aloof and smug... her
emotions carefully hidden beneath a facade of nonchalantness.  Inside she is
seething, boiling with self-doubt and anger at her own uselessness, her own
ignorance that should have seen what was happening with Hiroshi the moment
it started.

 "Nabiki, dear, that is quite enough," Nodoka speaks gently, yet there is
nothing gentle about the calm manner in which her words are spoken.  "Yes,
Akane, your opinion does matter.  The only problem is, honor demands this
wedding go forth.  Whether or not Ranma has more time, I sincerely doubt
that my son will get over these feelings... so more time, less time, I do
not think it matters much.  The wedding will take place sooner or later...
but it will take place, Akane."

 For a moment all is silent... the sound of rain upon the roof, smattering
outside, and the sound of the koi in the pond leaping, only to descend once
more into the depths.

 Akane's sobbing ceases, yet her demeanor says that at any moment she could
totter once more over the edge.  "I don't want to marry him like this,
Auntie!! It- It would feel like a lie! Like there wasn't any love between
us.  He- he could start to hate me.  I don't want that to happen!" A flash
of her mother's face, smiling, happy... that is what she wants, she wants
that happiness for herself.  She is half afraid she might never know it,
since Hiroshi...

 Nodoka's eyes glimmer faintly, her lips tight as she speaks, "Akane, to my
sadness, I must say that honor about these things overrules what is best for
Ranma... promises are promises.  Think of it this way, Japanese women have
been lying to themselves in marriages for thousands of years, and it hasn't
stopped us yet," The soft rustling is heard as Nodoka sits at the head of
the dining table, Soun taking a seat opposite of her.

 "What about happiness??" Akane asks, her voice full of confused venom, her
mind wondering if perhaps her trust in Nodoka's kindness was misplaced.

 Nodoka gently runs her hands synchronously across the edge of the table,
touching the corners with her thumbs, "Akane, I pray nightly that this
decision had been made out of love, and my Husband, Soun, as well as myself
have been very patient in the hopes that this decision WOULD be made out of
love.  The promise was made out of convenience, to carry on the school... it
deeply hurts me that such things could have happened to separate the two of
you, but this pairing was made long before either of you were old enough to
consent."

 Akane's head fell; her shoulder's slumping.  "I see, so we really have no
choice, we'll get married when you want whether we like it or not, whether
one of us suffers for it for the rest of our lives or not," Akane shakes her
head, half in confusion, half in shame that is full of guilt and pain.

 In her mind, an image of Ranma's face... tears upon her cheeks, as the hand
flies back.  Then a bright cracking noise and a flash of pain that leaves
spots of bright colors dancing in her vision, and a throbbing ache in her
swollen cheek.  Then her heartbeat, Ranma looking at her horrified as she
touches her cheek... feeling warm wetness far redder than tears.

 "I've come to the conclusion that you and your husband are both out of your
goddamn minds, 'Auntie'," Her tone is Saccharine sweet as she speaks,
pouring herself some tea in a casual gesture.  Nabiki looks up at Nodoka,
"Pretty sure," added seemingly half in thought as she sips.

 At her words, Nodoka's body grows rigid with tension, "I am a traditional
Japanese Woman, Nabiki.  You would do well to note that Giri still runs
thick in Japan's blood, and Honor is as strong nowadays as it was 300 years
ago, before the English came," Her words come smooth as ice, and much
colder, laced with deadly venom.

 Her patience is quickly waning, Nabiki's diehard attitude not something she
was used to from anyone.  Ever.

 "You don't scare me, Nodoka," Nabiki replies, in an exact replica of the
venom laced ice Nodoka had used, giving the effect of laughter at Nodoka's
unspoken threat.  The most casual and intense mockery Nabiki was best known
for.

 Nodoka's hands shook as she clenched them tightly, attempting to control
her rising anger at the middle Tendou girl, "Is that so, Nabiki? That is
disrespectful of a Japanese woman, talking down to her elders like you
always seem to do," Nodoka suddenly biting her lip as one of her fingernails
cuts deeper into her palms, a trickle of blood coloring her fingertip.

 Nabiki's smile shines as bright as the break of dawn upon the shores of
Nihon.  A jester's smile... A trickster's beguiling grin.  Speaking to the
viewer as if to say 'I know more than you ever will'.  "Well, let me see,"
Her words dripped with sugar, "I don't rightly give a damn, Mizz Scarlet.
You don't see me bustling about in a Kimono bowing and nodding and scraping,
so here's to the empire," Nabiki grinned brighter still, as she hefted the
cup of tea, then tossed it back like a shot of Whiskey.

 "I will not tolerate you speaking down to me, little girl!" Nodoka's whole
body begins shaking with her half controlled rage, never in her life has
anyone spoken to her in that manner, in such an arrogant, self-assured,
fearless manner.

 "Nabiki! What has gotten into you young lady! Apologize right now!" Soun's
shame and embarrassment from Nabiki's words and actions were beginning to
show plainly in his disposition.

 Nabiki laughs, placing a hand on her mouth to keep from laughing too hard,
"I'm afraid not daddy, in my case 'Aunty', I will have to say screw
tradition.  Oh, And Daddy, if you want to contest my independence, I seem to
remember you owe me back pay from the last three loans," the blood drains
from Soun's face at the mention of the borrowed money, and suddenly he is
studiously examining the table.

 Nodoka gapes in astonishment and anger, "Soun! Don't tell me you are afraid
of your own DAUGHTER!?" She's never seen such a thing, a grown man fearing
his own flesh and blood, his own little girl.  Preposterous!

 Kasumi sighs, her head lowering as she shakes her dark brown tresses,
"Auntie, Nabiki has a lot of clout with the businesses around here, and when
Daddy has needed the money... well... Nabiki hasn't asked for it back
before, not from family," Her voice is thick with embarrassment, her cheeks
red with a heavy blush.

 "If you THINK that I will condone your course of action, Mizz Nodoka, you
do not know Nabiki Tendou," Suddenly Nabiki is rising, as if looming, her
shadow falling over Nodoka with no room for interpretation of her menace.
"I am the one girl you don't want to mess with, 'Aunty', why do you think
they call me the Ice Bitch?" A sadistic smile, a cold and venomous edge to
her words.

 Nodoka's resolve, for a single moment, falters, and she shies back from a
girl many years younger than herself, then the steel edge of her fiery soul
once more bears itself, "I am Ranma's Mother, Nabiki, and you will not stop
this arrangement.  It is out of your hands, and it was never in your hands
to begin with young lady," Her eyes hold strong the fire that is within her
soul, a warrior woman's spirit which shall never let go of her ideals, even
in the labor of her last dying breath.

 Yet, once more she is shaken as Nabiki straightens to her full standing
height, a wry grin on her face, "Who said anything about trying to stop you,
Nodoka?" A swift spin of her heels, her back turning to the elder Saotome
woman.  A cocky look back over her shoulders.

  "You push it, and you will get what is coming to you.  Do what you will,
but I can make sure you'll regret any... rash decisions," Not a threat,
simply a state of fact as Nabiki turns, gliding upstairs with a calm grace.

 Nodoka stares after her, anger and bile seething in her mind, a girl.  A
GIRL has the audacity to threaten her!? She silently promises that she will
NOT let Nabiki push her around, as she seems to think she can easily do.

 Akane stares after her sister as well.  There is much love in that gaze, a
silent thank-you being said inside Akane's heart.  She has no concept of why
Nabiki would wish to help Ranma, but all the same she is thankful for it.

 Silently, she adds another almost reluctant prayer.  *Hiroshi... come back
safely.*

 *  *  *  *  *  *

 Rain pours gently down the glass windowpanes, some soft Japanese pop music
drifting lazily over the air.  An occasional car moves sluggishly by on the
road outside.

 The scents of freshly diced vegetables, squid, batter... the sound of the
grill sizzling, and the smell of fresh okonomiyaki assaults her senses.

 There are only a few customers.  An old man in dirty working clothes
wearing a straw hat.  A round lady in a floral print dress, her cheeks rosy
with a bright smile, a small boy in a yellow raincoat with her... quietly
humming a made up song as he pokes at his food.

 Kuonji Ukyou flips the newly cooked okonomiyaki onto a plate, sliding it
onto the counter to the more recent customer.  A friend from school, his
hair black and somewhat unkempt.  A solemn mood surrounds him, something
quite unfamiliar to Nakano Daisuke's usual demeanor.

 Ukyou's hands shake as she sets the cooking spatula down; she rubs them
together as if they are cold.  She turns, looking back at Daisuke as the boy
sips his plain black coffee, making some personal notes on a book full of
numbers.

 "Studying for the test?" She knows it's not the question she would rather
ask, the question that had been bothering her again and again for the past
week and a half.  Still, it was a more appropriate question.

 Daisuke looks up, the small wire-brimmed glasses hanging on the tip of his
nose, "Nah. Just a little personal stuff, you know I'm always fiddling with
ideas," He smiles then, halfheartedly to be sure, yet it is a smile that is
mildly arrogant.  Condescending with a reason.

 Thunder booms outside, the wind picking up lightly.  Icy Rain bombarding
the street mercilessly, as it had for the past week.

 She casts her eyes about the shop, noting that not very many people are
here, all of her customers looking much warmer than they would be if they
were outside.  Not much chance of more coming in this kind of weather.

 She sighs, then, deciding to take a short break from the more than slow
day.  Pulling out the oft-unused stool she keeps behind the counter, Ukyou
takes a seat opposite Daisuke.  "Still haven't talked to him, have you?" A
question she had been mulling over, turning again and again in her mind.

 "Nope. Well, not really, I mean.  I've spoken to him numerous times in the
past week, the problem is- well.. The conversations keep getting shorter.
He's even started paying some form of attention in class, just so the
Teacher doesn't call his name and draw attention to him," Daisuke stabs at a
piece of his dinner, shoveling it into his mouth as his pen continues
scratching on the paper of the notebook.

 Ukyou fidgets, scratching at a rough part of the counter and idly thinking
she should get something to scrub it off.  "You don't- I mean, do you think
he's okay? I... I heard about what happened from Akane, and it's all over
the school, Lots of Rumors-"

 Daisuke looks up suddenly, "Most of them are false, Ukyou... I am sure.
Ranma isn't- Well, he isn't as bad as some of the rumors say he is.  None of
this is his fault," There is a vengeance in the way he speaks, as if his own
reputation were at stake.  Always the one to take offense at the smallest of
statements.

 Ukyou shakes her head; her brown hair shifting around her delicately framed
face, "I just- I can't believe it.  Hiroshi... I guess thinking about it now
makes sense, well, as much sense as ANYTHING involving Ranma can," Deep
green eyes dance with a heavy sadness as Ukyou forces a half-joking smile
onto her lips.

 "Yeah, well, believe it.  I should've seen it sooner, the way it was going.
To my own credit... I have to say that Hiroshi has good taste, even though
it was a bad choice," Another bit of Okonomiyaki disappears into the depths
of Daisuke's mouth as he turns the page, and resumes his writing.

 Ukyou feels a slight anger build within her, "How could you say such a
thing?! Ranchan is a wonderful person to fall in love with!" The man she
loves, the man she has loved for a long time, the man she defends when
people make comments like Daisuke.

 Daisuke makes an odd, almost chortling laugh in his throat, pushing his
wire-framed glasses up to sit on his forehead, "Only if you're Akane,
Ukyou... and I'll be damned if Hiroshi doesn't love Ranma to death.  Whole
heart and all that stuff, they seem great together.  Well, until the truth
came out, of course," His eyes look down at the equations, numbers, and
variables.  Cold hard logic, perhaps he is being too disassociated with the
entire situation, he wonders.

 The door swings suddenly open, and from its frame two figures walk slowly
in.  Both wear matching raincoats, the colors contrasting yet complimenting,
slick and shiny, wet.  "Hey, Ukyou!" The voice of Sayuri, a voice full of
calm and compassion in a troubled moment.

 *Yuka must be the other* Kuonji deduces, as the two girls shake out their
umbrella's before turning and walking up to the counter.

 The false demeanor of cheeriness once more clouds Ukyou's face and stance,
"The usual, girls?" having regular customers always made it easier to guess
what they might want.

 Yuka hops up into her usual seat, carefully looking over Ukyou's face
before speaking, "Sure thing, Ukyou-Chan, and you don't have to act the part
for us.  We've all been a little down since Romeo left Ranma," Yuka quickly
runs her hands through her hair to make sure it is dry.

 Ukyou mutters a silent curse in her mind.  Having usual customers also
meant they could usually see through your half-baked facades.

 Ukyou's brow furrows in worry, her cheery demeanor falling away like rotted
parchment, "Is my worry really that obvious, Girls??" She occupies herself,
trying to take her mind off of Ranma by mixing the batter, concentrating on
what she does best.  Make Okonomiyaki.

 "Hon, it's not that it's obvious, it's just we all know how you feel.  Both
about Hiroshi and about Ranma, so it's just natural that you be worried,"
Sayuri smiles, attempting to reassure Ukyou.  A moment later, she turns her
smile on Daisuke, turning up the intensity of her smile to a warm greeting.

 Daisuke grins back, winking and adding a chuckle, "Nice to see you two are
enjoying our fine Nerima weather," flipping his notebook gently closed, he
looks back at the two girls, watching as Yuka fixes Sayuri's hair up into a
ponytail.

 A groan, then a roll of Sayuri's eyes, "Oh yeah, right, the beautiful
Nerima weather.  I wonder what they write on the travel brochures for a trip
to Nerima? 'Have fun in the sun, then the rain, then the sun... All in a
single day'? Why can't it just snow already... this freezing rain is
horrid," Yuka nods her assent to her friends comment.

 "Ohmygosh...he- he Loves him, doesn't he?" Ukyou turns suddenly, looking
straight at Daisuke with a shocked look on her face.

 Daisuke blinks, scratching the back of his head in confusion, "Sorry.  Uhm,
lost the train of your thought, explain please?" Sayuri giggles at the end
of his odd comment, and he flashes her a quick smile.

 Leaning against the counter, Ukyou looks intently at Daisuke, "Ranchan...
He... he couldn't possibly- I mean, he's not that way is he??"

 The two girls suddenly exchange glances, and then return their twin gazes
to Ukyou.  There is a healthy level of worry, as well as the guarding look
that is often associated with the reluctant answers people tend to avoid.

 Daisuke laughs, nervously, "Well, I wouldn't know! I wasn't around them
when they were being buddy buddy... urr, I mean really pal-like, uhh... You
know what I mean!!" His hands fly up in an exasperated manner, his brow
furrowing in an almost insulted scowl.

 The chef suddenly grabs Daisuke by the lapel, shaking him, "What do you
MEAN you don't know!? You're Hiroshi's best friend! You've GOT to know!!!!"
Her anger is none too level, her voice a bit too high for even her own
liking.  Stinging tears, how she hates the stinging tears.

 Daisuke laughs a nervous, hesitant laugh, his hands assuming the sign of
warding off demons as Ukyou's anger and frustration wash over him for a
brief moment.

 Yuka's hand touched Ukyou's.  Flesh to flesh, warm and gentle.
"Ukyou-Chan," She admonishes.

 Sayuri's hand finds its way to Ukyou's shoulder; gently squeezing it with
calm, yet insistent force, "It is not Daisuke's fault," Her words are as
smoke upon the wind, soft and almost unreal.

 A moment passes, as Ukyou's hand tightens on Daisuke's shirt... The
straining of cotton heard for a brief moment before her hand suddenly
slackens.

 Ukyou sways a moment, almost falling as she leans on the counter.  A moment
later, she finds a pair of arms around her, helping to hold her up.  *So
weak,* her mind notes silently as she trembles lightly.

 "He does Love Hiroshi, Sayuri and I know at least that much," Yuka's hands
grip her outfit, her eyes looking inward for a brief moment as she recalls
the vision of Ranma, speaking so proudly and eloquently of Hiroshi.  Ranma's
Love.

 Ukyou's eyes rise, confusion and disorientation still evident in them, "Wh-
why? How do you know??" She absently wonders why she feels half-devoured
inside, as if she was an egg that had been cracked open and emptied
violently.

 "Ranma said stuff at Akane's sleepover that was pretty obvious to everyone
but her and Akane," Sayuri's hand gently strokes Ukyou's back, and for a
moment, the chef feels as if she was with her mother again.  With her mother
as a small child.

 A gentle drumming of fingertips as Daisuke rubs his chin.  "Why is it I am
always the last to know about these things??" An almost half annoyed
expression twists itself across his face, almost as if he swallowed a very
bitter lemon.

 A giggle, and Yuka shakes her head, "You're always too busy with other
stuff, 'Suke-kun.  What, did you think everyone was purposely hiding
everything from you?"

 Suddenly, Daisuke hops off of the stool, pulling on his hair in an over
exaggerated mock-panicked expression.  His eyes dart around with intense
uncertainly.  "I knew it! I knew it all along!! You're all conspiring
against me, the Aliens sent you!!!" He looks up, grasping clumps of his hair
as he laughs maniacally.

 Yuka mocks a Yawn, while Sayuri only rolls her eyes as she takes her seat
again.  "If we were sent by the aliens to conspire against you, they must be
pretty pathetic aliens to need YOU for anything..."  Yuka smirks, leaning
against the counter as she watches Daisuke's overzealous seeking of
attention.

 Ukyou promises herself that she will NOT smile.  She tells herself there is
far too much to worry about, and that she doesn't deserve to smile until
it's all untangled from the mess it seems to have degraded into.

 "Hey! Whatchit now.  You know I'm a certified Genius; I have cards... and
pieces of paper that say so!!!  Don't make me have to... Urrr... Do...
Genius... Type... stuff.  I'll... I'll... I'll program my calculator on
you!!!!" He jabs a threatening finger in a pointing motion at Yuka.

 Ukyou's mouth twitches, she bites her lip firmly.  *I will NOT laugh.  No
matter how funny it seems.* Her thoughts drift far from the topic of her
angst for but a brief moment, before she snatches them back.  Tightly, she
wraps them, around her soul.  There is no time for laughter, her Ranchan's
heart has been broken and he needs her more than ever.

 With little ceremony or smile, she slides the newly finished okonomiyaki in
front of Yuka, then Sayuri.  Her grim facade is not an unnoticed presence to
her guests.

 "Ukyou-Chan, sometimes you can spoil a person's mood," Yuka's tone is one
thick with worry, and more than a little annoyance.  Her hands drifted, as
if of their own free will, poking and prodding the okonomiyaki without any
intention of removing a piece.

 A ruffling of coarse cotton, Daisuke folding his arms as he shakes his head
solemnly, that midnight mane of black hair swaying in its unkempt manner,
"Ucchan, If you are so worried about him, why not go over there and talk to
the king of all baka's?"

 Whispering as light as rose petals, Sayuri softly murmuring pleasant
feelings into Yuka's ear while stroking her back in a loving manner.  Yuka
herself nodding to the soft encouragement her best friend provides.

 She blames herself, at most for not informing Akane of the blatant truth
that the young Tendou girl was completely ignoring.  Yuka called herself
Akane's friend, yet proceeded to allow Akane's fiancée to fall deeper in
love with a man of all things.

 The shuffle of feet as the exit bell rings.  A raised Eyebrow.  Daisuke
considers the two girls next to him, meditating on the inseparable duo.
"You two blab on about how oblivious Akane was about Ranma... you are so
hypocritical.  I wish you two would just come out and admit it," His voice
echoes with barely guarded contempt, as if, once more, they were trying to
pull a fast one on him.

 Blink.  Blink.  They both gaze up suddenly, two pairs of brown eyes
matching Daisuke's glare.

 "What the heck are you talking about, Daisuke??" Profound confusion,
dancing in her words.  Yuka apparently had missed something, at least she
thought so.

 A loud groan, a slap as his hand connects firmly with the flesh of his
forehead.  He waves a hand in a banishing gesture, swiftly abating Sayuri
from speaking the similar question she had just prepared, "Forget it," A
quick dismissal.

 "Do you really think I should?? I wouldn't want to Intrude," Unsure,
wavering... she asks.  She finds herself caressing the white bow in her
hair, for some reason finding it important to make sure it is well.

 Daisuke and Sayuri jump, having forgotten the presence of the 4th party.
"Pardon?" The boy genius inquires, having lost his easily escapable train of
thought.

 A sip, warm and fluid, as Yuka tests the tea that comes with the meal.
"Assuredly, Ukyou-Chan, I should probably tell you this though.  Be there
for him as a friend, you want to bury him go on with that fiancée stuff.
It's not what he needs right now.  Men are very frail when it comes to
relationships of actual love," A swift cut, and gently she lifts a small
portion of the okonomiyaki to her lips, deftly sliding it in as she chews
vigorously.

 A soft, diagonal shaking of her head, Sayuri's pony tail brushing the nape
of her neck.  "Ranma... Is so broken lately.  I- Well... I never felt much
for him until I met her... that part that Ranma hides from everyone," She
chews her lip, looking almost ready to cry, "Maybe that's why Ranma fell for
Hiroshi... because Hiroshi brought that out in him, that needing, that
longing, that feminine dependency on someone stronger in many ways."

 Even Daisuke's disposition became sullen, "Ranma always lacked emotional
strength, and in a lot of ways spiritual.  He always depended on his own
arrogance and cockiness, in ignorance of the things life could really
offer," A bitter, bile-filled laugh, "But then, most people don't realize
what they're missing.  Not everyone can be Hiroshi," A sigh threatens
escape, one that he unceremoniously shoves back down into it's box.  Still,
his face was far less cheerful than it had been.

 "Nobody can be Hiroshi," Sayuri adds in a misty tone.

 For several minutes, they eat silently, staring in thought at their food,
their minds elsewhere.

 She should chastise them, Ukyou thinks; chastise them for speaking so badly
of her Ranchan.  For some reason, she cannot find the strength to harm their
moods, which are so full of rain and cloudiness.

 She resolves, with much finality, to visit Ranma after work.

 "This is quite good, Ukyou-Chan," It was an unneeded comment, one spent to
break the uneasy stalemate the conversation seemed to have degraded into,
Yuka realized this... the clue being from her reluctance to glance up from
her plate.

 Rain.  And a smile.  It was something he would have said... if things had
been the same.

 It just isn't the same anymore.

 A smile nonetheless, as she thinks of better times.  Times without Rain.

 "Yes.  I know..." Ukyou smiles, but can't seem to wash the tears from her
soul.

 *  *  *  *  *  *

 Soft.  As if it were fragile, he caresses the picture sitting in his lap;
prominent is the feeling of everything inside him somehow shucked from his
skin, leaving him a hollow shell.

 Gently he traces the outline of the man's jaw in the picture.... letting
his fingertips drift slowly across his eyebrow, touching his lips with the
tip of a single finger as a shiver runs through him.  The emotions leave him
raw and drained, wave upon wave crash into his heart with unyielding
ferocity.

 *Only a picture,* Disappointment shows in his posture, in how weary and
tired his eyes look.  You would think he had thought it was the person, for
a brief moment.  A moment in time, where everything once more seemed
happy.... the figure laughed, and hugged him close.  Closer than a friend
should.

 The picture of Hiroshi is a good one... one of him smiling.
Unfortunately.... it is also one that makes him seem so dreadfully alone.
The same picture taken the day Cologne vanished.  His eyes seem to dig into
Ranma's soul, making the guilt feel ever worse.  Eyes that see exactly what
is there, something Ranma is unsure that he can ignore.

 "I can't do anything, you know that.  They won't let me.... I don't know if
it would work anyways.  We're... we're both guys, you know??? I mean... I
don't think you'd do that for me, and I wouldn't feel... Comfortable at
all... why would you fall in love with stupid me??? I am just... trouble.
Ask anyone... they'll tell you," He's only trouble, he tells himself.  He's
hurt, somehow, everyone who's ever loved him...

 He is a shameful disappointment to his father, a constant wound against his
Mother's happiness, a stupid stupid boy to Akane... everyone he
disappointed.  He's never too smart for Nabiki, never too modest for
Kasumi....

 Clutching the picture to himself he fights back the tears.  *I AM A MAN.  A
MAN, I can say that, because it's true! I'm a MAN!* A soft chanting as he
rocks back and forth, the ache in his heart only growing worse.

 Ranma shivers, and opens his blue eyes.... he hears laughter, soft,
musical, pure as distilled sunshine.

 <<She blinks her eyes open, the brightness of the colors seeming so much
more real than the world she left.  She was somewhere else a moment ago....
it was dark, and there was a picture....

 "My Love!" His voice! Oh, so handsome and strong.... his voice, that voice
so full of sunshine and wind.  She giggles lightly as she looks up at him,
smoothing her skirt.

 "Yes, Hiro-Chan???" His blush is so deep.... her affection always did make
him blush.  She looks at him, standing only a few yards away; the grassy
hill around them topped with only a few trees, the breeze ruffling the
leaves in a lazy manner.

 He opens his arms, "C'mon... the others are waiting, can't very well have a
picnic without the guest of honor, ne???"

 *He smiles so shyly* He always did when she kept her hair down.  *Kami, how
I love him,*

 She waves at him as she stands, smoothing her blue and white dress, "I'm
coming, I'm coming! keep your pants on!!!"

 That grin, just out of the side of his mouth, his eyes squinting as he
holds his hand out...

 She reaches out to take it...>>

 "Ranma?" The voice is wary as it speaks, a masculine voice, deep in timbre
and thick in old strength, like an oak.

 <<She laughs as he takes her into his arms, as he nuzzles her neck with
kisses, "My my, very fresh today aren't we hentai-chan???"

 He chortles, bringing his head up and pressing it against her forehead, his
eyes looking into hers.  "You are so beautiful, you know... a man could just
die," His arms draping lovingly around her waist.

 A mischievous grin from her as she cocks her head to one side, "That can be
arranged, Hentai-Chan.... I thought you said the others were waiting???"

 A blush colors his cheek as he smiles broadly, a slight mischievous wink,
"They can wait"

 "Oh, Stop!" She kicks him hard, pushing him away as he yelps in pain.
"Honestly... I'm not some sex toy!">>

 Genma's face becomes melancholic as he frowns, shaking his son, "Ranma...
Ranma, look at me boy!"

 Ranma's eyes are distant, his face slack, his arms clutching the picture to
his chest.

 <<"Do you think that we could take a trip, my love???" His eyes are so
soft, glimmering beautifully in the summer sunlight.  It almost causes her
to melt thoroughly on the inside.

 Teasingly, she tugs on some of his bangs, brushing them aside, "Gee... I
dunno.... a training trip???"

 That laugh, that laugh so full of life, overflowing and abundant, that
laugh she so dearly loves, "Of course! Of course... anything you want,
Beloved," A soft stroke of her hair with his hand, a gentle kiss on her
forehead.

 A shy, but almost coy grin as she turns away from him, her back against his
chest... "Anything, M'lord???"

 He shakes a finger in admonishing, "Now now... do I have to chastise YOU
this time???"

 That soft, all too girlish giggle ushering from her own lips.  "Mmmmm,
maybe..."

 He starts gently to tug her away, "C'mon... the others are waiting for
us...">>

 "Ranma!!! Please, boy! Wake up!" Genma's strong, deep, resonating voice now
wavers with fear, his boy just STARING off at nothing, as if he'd finally
gone over the edge!!!

 Ranma's eyes take on a concerned look, the only change in the past several
minutes.

 <<"I don't know, Hiro-Chan...." There was something she was forgetting, a
room, with blinds.  It seemed familiar, as if from a memory.  There was a
picture she was holding.

 He frowns, looking at her cautiously, "Is something wrong, My Love??" His
singsong voice thick with concern for her well-being.

 She looks back, her head suddenly aching... she was somewhere else a few
moments ago... a... a room, back in the Tendou Dojo???

 "Ranma???" Hiroshi's voice is now inquiring, wondering what could be
troubling his beautiful bride.>>

 *SNAP*

 "Ranma!!! RANMA!" Genma sees that Ranma is slowly rising out of the strange
stupor he had been in, the Saotome Father suddenly realizing how terribly
frightened he suddenly is at the possibility of losing what was left of his
child.

 Blink.  Blink.  Ranma's eyes slowly begin to focus as it thunders again
outside, threatening yet again to burst forth in a maelstrom of water.
"...pop...what...?"

 The embrace almost crushes the wind out of Ranma, his Father's strong arms
wrapping around him.  He wasn't sure, but he thought Genma was shaking.

 "Oh Ranma, don't...  Don't do that to your Father again, boy!!!" Genma
feels relief flood into him, and wonders at why his face is suddenly wet.

 Ranma blinks in mute shock, then suddenly realizes that it was just a
daydream... his body slumping into his Father's arms as he sighs deeply,
"Dad.... I... I've got a problem..."

 "Dad??? What happened to Pop???" Genma wipes his eyes quickly with his
sleeve, then holds his son at arms length.

 Ranma's eyes are haunted with grief that Genma only recalled seeing in
Soun's eyes when he had lost his wife.  The boy seemed drained, completely
sucked dry of any joyful life, as if there had been nothing before Hiroshi.

 Sitting in the meager lighting that the candles provide for the room, Genma
opens a part of his heart he long kept guarded so that he can listen for
once.... truly listen to what his boy tells him.

 "I think I love him, and I don't know what to do.  I- I know what you and
mom want, and- and- and I'm... I'm willing to- ya know," Ranma turns his
face away from Genma, hiding the tears that suddenly begin escaping.  "It's-
honor and all.... and you made a promise... And- And-,"

 "Ranma," Genma's voice is stern as iron, sharp as steel.  His boy was
grieving for love.... love.  Something he once had with Nodoka, something
that seems now faded and lost, Nodoka a whole other woman.  A woman not too
unlike the man he had been acting like.  The man he had been to his child.

 That horrid, cruel man.

 There is no rain outside, the battle between earth and sky having halted
for a brief moment.

 Ranma looks up, his eyes haggard and lost.  He looks at his Father, whose
eyes are almost sad.  Something he's never really seen before.... not true
sadness like this, in any case.

 "I love you, my son," Five words.  Genma wants to say more, years of
admonishing leaping to the tip of his tongue, but he clamps his mouth shut.
He always spoiled those words before... using them to start a firm lecture
of Ranma's weakness.

 "And-?" Ranma wearily waits to hear all of the rest... everything he's
heard a thousand times before, his heart sinking into his stomach as he
realizes just how horrid his father truly is.  *Soun and Mother probably
sent him up here...*

 There is a tense moment of silence; Genma hangs his head as he realizes
that Ranma might not be able to trust him anymore.  Him of all people.
Ranma, coincidentally, wondering what it is that Genma gets out of this
sick, sick endeavor.

 Slowly, Genma begins to put words to his feelings, "Ranma, I love you.  I
have been a useless, hurtful monster... doing you more harm than good in
your life.  You've come to hate me, the coward and thief that I am... but...
I love you, because you are my child and I can do nothing else."

 "Father?" This is new, and shocking to Ranma.  His father seems to be
speaking with feeling, from his heart.  He doesn't know if he should believe
Genma, the man who has more often than not acted his way out of scrapes.

 Genma's hands tighten their grip on his son's arms, his fierce eyes burning
into Ranma's, "Do you love him, Ranma?" The question is flat, straight, a
demand for truth with no quarter for lies.

 Flash.  Boom.  The sky threatens once more to proceed with its bombardment
of Tokyo.  The crisp smell of rain is thick in the air as the koi fish leaps
towards the sky, only to arc back down into the icy depths of the pond.

 Ranma slowly begins to shake his head. Then a broken look shows in his
eyes, and his face contorts in heavy emotion... a short, curt nod.  He feels
so weak, suddenly.... as if his much talked about strength decided to take a
vacation.  His heart beats feebly, it seems.

 "I- I know.  I'm weak- I'm weak and- and... It's just not right," Ranma
feels tears running down his cheeks.  Damn him and his fool heart! That he
would be crying like some stupid girl.  He's NOT a girl, he is a man!

 Shock, the ruffling of a gi as silk shirt meets with it's fabric, arms like
branches of an oak tree pulling tight around Ranma's body.

 Genma's deep baritone speaks as if it were silk in the wind, "Ranma... my
child.  You are the strongest person I've ever known, that I may ever know,"
Genma shakes in the embrace, as if he was freezing.

 Blink.  Blink.  For a long moment Ranma feels like a stuffed practice
dummy. Then, quite suddenly, Ranma finds the strength to do one thing.  And
with that, he wraps his arms around his father.  *HIS* Father... someone he
strangely never thought he could be proud of.  Someone he never thought
would be the one he needed.

 "Don't dare make a decision now, Ranma.... I- I support you and Hiroshi, if
it must come to that, but I beg you as your father that.... that.... you
don't decide right now.  I will do all I can to make sure you have some
time.  I am sorry for all the things I've done wrong, but by Kami I will do
THIS right," His voice is fierce, and strong.  It was a vow he was making, a
vow that he would not soon break.  A vow that, perhaps, had a wager of his
soul on the paper.

 Ranma felt despair set in once more.... the weakness washing over him as
the devoured feeling returned.  How could he make a choice, when he would
disappoint someone either way???  It was too much.  How could he choose to
be with Akane... when he had trouble LIVING without Hiroshi???

 "I love you, Father," It was said in a weary, battered tone of voice, but
it was nonetheless true.  It made Genma weep.... something Ranma rarely
remembered, at least the sort of weeping that required sincere tears.

 For a brief moment, by the candlelight, a child's faith was once more
restored.  Perhaps it was a new beginning for both of them... a chance to
heal the wounds....

 *  *  *  *  *  *

 Balance.  Focus.  Discipline.  Kick low, then spin, snap the leg out and
kick high.  Letting the momentum carry her into a flip... adept skill from
hundreds of years allowing her to find her footing once more.  300 feet down
is a long way.

 The winds whip by with harsh ferocity... 50 miles per hour.  It takes
concentration, ki, and balance to keep the footing on the narrow bridge
across the chasm.  Always balance, both internal and external.

 Khu-Lon, matriarch of the Niie Chiiezu, warrior who has lived a good long
while.  Strength, vigor, vitality flow through her now... the thrill of life
in its most pure state.  THE ART.

 She feels her ki flowing through her, thrilling her with the tingling
anticipation, with every scent and sensation of the world.  With a flurry of
lightning fast gestures she begins a kata she hasn't been able to finish
since her bones became older, more frail.

 The Art fills her to overflowing, her heart bursting with joy and life, she
finds herself weeping from the beauty of the feeling! It is a drug that
overwhelms the senses, sharpens the vision, and heightens the hearing...
unifies the artist with the world.

 Patiently, Ming-Mei watches her.  She leans against one of the large rocks
that adorn either end of the bridge, watching Elder Khu-Lon as she
practices.

 It has been weeks since Khu-Lon entered the village, demanding to meet with
the other Elders.  At first, she had been attacked, since the village did
not recognize her.  It had been swiftly proven that she was clearly who she
claimed to be.

 Khu-Lon pauses in mid movement, causing Ming-Mei to blink.  She turns,
looking into the wind, her eyes narrowing as she seems to listen to
something.  Perhaps there was a voice... as soft as the wind itself...
Ming-Mei thought she could hear it.

 The voice of a goddess??? There was something about it that gave Ming-Mei
the shivers.  Khu-Lon simply nodded in understanding.  "Ming-Mei," Her voice
is sweet, almost sultry... but with an edge of steel that seems to taunt one
to underestimate her.

 "Yes, Elder Khu-Lon?"  The girl ran a hand through her Paige-boy, plum
colored hair.  Her forest green eyes very alert all of a sudden.

 Khu-Lon smiled a secret, almost mischievous smile, "I will meet you... at
the bottom," and with the ever so gentle push, she spread her arms in a
backward flip... Right off the edge of the bridge.

 Ming-Mei's eyes widen in shock as she runs forward, the wind suddenly
buffeting her, attempting to reach her elder before it is too late, knowing
already she is moments past any hope.

 Staring down, she gapes in horror as the figure of Khu-Lon plummets for
several moments, and then a small, but immensely bright, flash momentarily
blinds her eyes.

 Staring down at the scorched bit of earth, she swears she can make out a
small human-shaped figure walking...  Turning, she makes haste to descend
the rather steep, rocky hill.  Jumping, dodging, leaping, she catches up to
the figure a good 15 minutes later.

 Khu-Lon smirks, a small upturning at the corner of her mouth.  She absently
fastens her golden hair back into a ponytail.  "Child, you take far too long
to catch up, but then I guess the young ones nowadays are a bit lazy," Her
smirk turns into an obvious smile as she hears Ming-Mei cursing under her
breath.

 "Pardon Ming-Mei, Elder Khu-Lon, She mean not insult you by take too long,"
The words were almost spat out, in far less than perfect Japanese.  It would
appear Ming-Mei was not too happy at having her companion almost leap to her
death.

 A bright, piercing sound ushers forth from Khu-Lon's lips, "Oh Child, did
you think I would actually kill myself after living for so long? Would be an
awful waste of my years, if you ask me," The soft, musical noise of her
laughter once more escapes her silken lips.

 "What for you jump off, then?"  Ming-Mei draws her sword, cautiously taking
up a defensive stance as she glances around, her piercing gaze taking in the
brush, the trees, and the hills.  A trained Amazon warrior is always aware
of her surroundings, and any threats that it may conceal.

 A short smile, a pale eyebrow raised, then words that come as smooth as the
wind, "In the days when I was young, well, when I was young for the first
time... the world was a harsh and unyielding place, threats abounded
everywhere.  You could never be too careful, and a faked death could always
come in handy," She pauses, watching Ming-Mei.  The girl is intent upon her
words.

 Now there is a smile, happy that the girl is finally listening, Khu-Lon
continues her explanation, "We also had to deal with death daily, fallen
companions, deadly enemies.  In order to handle death, we had to court
death.  Look it in the face and smile.  In order to court death, we had to
be prepared at any moment to die without fear... that was when many of the
desperation tactics and special attacks came about," Khu-Lon recalls several
instances where it had been necessary to stage her own death, one including
a rather large group of soldiers which were intent upon raping her.

 Ming-Mei puzzles over her elders words, trying to imagine a world that
would pose such danger.  The only danger the Amazon's faced nowadays were
from outside, and as a unified tribe they could easily handle any such
attack.  Add to that the Elder's influence with the Chinese communist regime
and there was really rather little that could be worried about.

 "I see that you are trying to fit your mind over the concept.  Don't let it
bother you too much, child.  Times change, but the tribe shall remain.  I
just pray that..." Khu-Lon trails off, her pretty face marred suddenly by a
frown.  She recalls something.  Something she should have remembered... but
the march of time has dulled the memory, it is but a feeling of foreboding.

 Ming-Mei watches Khu-Lon intently, waiting for her elder to voice her
concerns.  There is a look of worry on Khu-Lon's face, it sets Ming-Mei's
heart pounding.  The usually stoic woman before her hadn't shown any signs
of agitation since she had come back to the village, and Khu-Lon is well
known for her immeasurable patience and calm demeanor.

 Khu-Lon shakes her head, as if freeing it from the cobwebs of a distant
past.  "There is danger... I feel that our time grows short.  We must return
to Japan as fast as we can," Khu-Lon looks up, as if staring at a cloud that
seems to be moving closer.  The blue sky is pure and pristine.

 Ming-Mei, startled by Khu-Lon's sudden serious tone, feels her hackles
rise.  "Elder Khu-Lon... what wrong?? You no worry, Ming-Mei will-"

 Like a snap of lightning, Khu-Lon's hand comes up, "No.  This enemy is
something... it's not human.  Whatever it is... it's hunting.  It is hunting
Son-In-Law," And once more, swiftly, Khu-Lon turns and with a spring she
throws herself into a run... her companion follows moments later when she
realizes that Khu-Lon is quickly vanishing into the horizon.

 Catching up once more, she gasps... the sun beating down upon them in a
feeble effort to assuage their progress.  Hot, especially for the time of
year... which is odd, Ming-Mei notes.

 "Ranma is in danger, and I quite heartily believe that it is in part my own
fault.  Whatever hunts Ranma now is something foul beyond measure, just the
breeze of it sickens me to the core," There is hesitance in her words, as if
she has left out the one most important thing that, perhaps, would have been
best for her companion to know.

 As swift as the wind she runs, golden hair bouncing within it's
imprisonment.  Khu-Lon, Matriarch of the Niie Chiiezu Amazons of
Joketsuzoku, leaps down off a ledge, timing it just right so that she can
bounce from a small outcropping, and land on the road to Hong Kong.

 Stopping dead in her tracks, she looks at the collapsed pass.  Where a
bridge had been before, there remains but a gaping canyon.  The mists that
commonly drifted in towards Jusenkyou clouded the bottom of the canyon,
which was a long way down.

 She hears the breathing of her companion, the young child Ming-Mei, labored
from the rather swift pace she had put for the last 5 miles.  She couldn't
sympathize, though; suddenly the sense of urgency was dire.  Khu-Lon had
long ago learned to trust her senses about such things.

 A flash.  A vast coldness seeming to crawl across her skin, Khu-Lon
shivers.  There are few times in her lifetime that she had felt such a
sensation, to her remembrance.  All of those instances could be counted on
one hand.  Not anymore.

 "Why for bridge out? Was okay yesterday," Ming-Mei leans carefully over,
gazing down into the ravine and encountering only the far distant vision of
thick mist.

 Khu-Lon has never liked feeling on edge.  It was why she trained so hard as
a youth; so that she would never have to feel threatened or out of control
again.

 She feels out of control now.

 "Someone destroyed the bridge, Child.  It is a ploy to halt our progress to
the Hong Kong port, which only reinforces my feeling that Son-In-Law is in
greater trouble than he knows," She steps back, looking across the ravine.
A narrowing of her eyes, the gears in her mind turning as she calculates
precisely how far the other end of the ravine is.

 Ming-Mei straightens her vest, idly fiddling with the smooth crystal
fasteners that hold the silk closed, "Why for someone want get Ranma? He
just trouble, is no good," Ming-Mei made a silent covenant that she would
protect her Elder at all costs against the violent Saotome boy, and what he
might do.

 Khu-Lon shakes her head silently, "Ming-Mei...  Ranma killed Saffron.  He
defeated Herb.  He has time and time again proven to me that he is never one
to be trifled with.  I feel the weaves of fate that seem to draw everything
to that boy.  Whatever out there that is hunting him is something that could
very well kill him, truly and finally."

 "He kill Saffron? Hiya, that big business, I not want mess with Ranma
unless he attack you," Ming-Mei's fingers fashion into a fist, she punches
the palm of her other hand with vigor, a determined glint in her eyes.
Khu-Lon's smile is tight and strained.

 "Child. Ming-Mei.  I am very flattered at your devoted protection, and I
understand that the Council has ordered you to assist me; you still have
much to learn as of yet.  Our main purpose is to GET to Ranma first.  I will
worry about aggressions when I have him nearby," She falls silent yet again,
the wind whispering something to her.

 Ming-Mei scowls, looking slightly pained, "You no want Ming-Mei help?" She
asks, her sulkiness beginning to take over.  She had so wished that she
could prove herself this time.  Prove that she was all woman, and a true
champion example of the Niie Chiiezu.

 Khu-Lon's face summons a slightly annoyed frown, "Child, you do not
understand.  This is something far too dangerous for you to partake in; only
someone with three hundred years of experience should even dare to take up
such a task.  You could very well be killed," Her gaze stabs into the young
girl opposite her.

 For a moment, Ming-Mei falters, wondering if perhaps she should not go
home.  Go home and find a husband, be a mother, defend the village.  All so
tempting to her, never has she seen her Elder so serious.

 Yet a small part of her clings to the ideal.  Perhaps she can help,
somehow.  Perhaps she can learn from the famous Khu-Lon, wisest of the
Elders.  Then she recalls what her predecessor had said only an hour before.

 "Ming-Mei no go.  She stay.  You telling her that much fear be Amazon of
long go.  Ming-Mei want learn, she want be strong like Khu-Lon.  Ming-Mei
not give up!" Her words are sharp, clear, crystal.  Spoken with such
certainty that it causes Khu-Lon to consider for a brief moment.

 Khu-Lon scolds herself for putting ideas into the girl's head.  She should
have let the girl have her fancy concepts without telling her about her
youth.  *Too late now, Sun-hair.  You have to take her along or seem the
Hypocrite.*

 Khu-Lon hates when she is right.

 "Child, if you are going to come with me then you will know every moment
shall be training, from dusk till dawn and every moment in between.  If you
fail, I shall send you back to the tribe in shame.  If you succeed, you will
one day have a high placing in the tribe... and I will personally vouch for
you as my student, you either leave now or proceed into the unknown, what is
your choice?" The cold breeze washes across her once more, and the faint
hint of that vile chill she had experienced earlier.

 Ming-Mei nods almost instantly, "Ming-Mei sure.  She promise to be good
student, she promise she not give up ever, glory to Niie Chiiezu!"

 Khu-Lon's eyes roll in an exasperated manner.  *Youth... was I ever so
precocious?*  She amends the thought a moment later as she realizes she is
hardly much older than Ming-Mei now.

 "Very well. Come along.  I know a different way around this particular
impediment," With that, she was off again, running like lighting, smooth as
silk and as graceful as the swan.

 Ming-Mei's face screws up in a slightly upset expression as she notices her
teacher once more vanishing off into the horizon... with sore legs; she
begins moving as fast as she can, wondering if they will have to run
EVERYWHERE.

 *  *  *  *  *  *

 Voices.  Hundreds of voices.  The cafeteria is full, students walking back
and forth from the lunch line, many of them whispering in silent tones about
the recent gossip.  Kunou has vanished, strange sightings of two Nabiki's,
or two Ranma's at times.

 Silently they mutter, wordless utterances for the most part.  Wary glances
cast sideways at shadows, suspicions of every movement being someone spying
on their own little secrets.

 The tables are full; students chatting and mumbling verse after verse of
the latest news.  It's too quiet, especially for Nerima they all say.  It
hasn't been quiet for this long since before Ranma came.

 Brown hair.  Green eyes.  She looks across the room with worry.  Beside her
sits a girl, black hair cropped short... almost tomboyish in comparison to
the other girls.

 Beside the Tomboy sits two more, both fair of skin and brown of hair and
eyes.  They look sadly at each other, exchanging an often practiced look
that conveys their mutual sympathy for a certain martial artist... and
perhaps a heavy bit of guilt at not having discovered sooner the reason for
the boy's woe.

 Opposite those two girls, a finely dressed boy in black, his disheveled
hair a sharp contrast to his well-groomed outfit.  He munches, almost
uncaringly, upon a rather large sub sandwich.

 "It's only getting worse, Akane-Chan," Ukyou feels her heart lurch in
despair as she casts her green eyes towards her love.  No.  No, not her love
anymore.  Her friend, someone who really does need her as just a friend now.

 Akane nods, only half-listening to the voice of her once rival.  She stares
almost with a fierce vigilance at her love, the one who holds her heart
completely.  Her mind plays over and over that scene where she lashed out in
anger, and was punished for harming Ranma's soul.

 Sayuri notes as Akane rubs her cheek again, where there had been a bruise
several weeks ago, there was not even a scar to mark where Ranma had laid
into her.  "Akane, you have to stop blaming yourself.  You can't always
control how your heart acts.  Sometimes it just... gets away with you,"
Sayuri places her hand atop Akane's on the table, giving her most supportive
smile.

 Yuka cracks open her pre made salad, munching a bit on the lettuce, "Sayuri
has a point, Akane.  You can't feel so guilty, it's in the past and you
can't really take it back.  I'd just worry for him if I were you, and try
and be there for him," There is a sternness in her words as she speaks; she
does not attempt to be harsh.  Only practical... only realistic.

 Gazing at Akane, the Chef notices that her eyes are beginning to swell with
tears again.  She had been crying a lot recently, and had been having a lot
of trouble with controlling the feelings of guilt overwhelming her.  "Akane
isn't worried about Ranchan being angry with her, girls.  I think," Ukyou
pauses, looking over at the figure of her once-love.

 Ranma eats almost systematically, and very slowly.  He just stares on ahead
 with a forlorn almost sad expression on his face, his shoulders slumped,
his body the image of someone who has lost all hope.  "I think she's afraid
of losing him," Her words are squeaked out as she feels the rush of emotions
overcome her.

 "Feh, Ranma is strong, he'll pull through.  You watch.  He'll be tossing
insults and bein' cocky again in no time," Daisuke tosses the words out
nonchalantly, acting as if everything is fine while knowing very well that
all is not as it should be.  It is a coping strategy.  He has never truly
known how to deal with emotions.  Never really understood people, either.

 "He loves him," Akane's voice is barely audible, as silent as the wind.
Even so, the girls seem to flinch, and Daisuke scowls at his sandwich.

 "Rotten sandwich... forgot to put the mustard on it," He chokes back a lump
in his throat, his eyes stinging.

 "I am so afraid of losing him.  I don't care if he loves Hiroshi.  Seeing
him like- like this.  It makes me die each time I see him like this," She
cradles her head in her hands suddenly, her shoulders shaking with emotions
so strong that her tears cannot convey the pain.

 Ukyou, always the gentle one.  Caressing Akane's back, she had been there.
She had been the one, at some point in time, that would have given Ranma up.
Given him up so that he could be happy and whole.  Her face was placid, yet
the tumult within her was anything but calm.

 Yet now, it was the woman she had been attempting to rival in the past.
The woman who Ukyou knows Ranma loves.  Is she to believe that she is wrong
now??? Her green gaze takes Akane in.  A shamble.  A broken woman, her
illusions violently ripped away.

 What cruel reflection is this, of her own piteous downfall??  Ukyou shakes
her head from the thought, hugging Akane gently, "I am afraid of losing him
as well, I- don't know what I would do if Ranchan had something happen to
him," Gently she looks up again, gazing almost longingly at the vision of
her ardor.

 She once more must wrench her gaze from that, the man she so adores, lest
her own eyes give over to weeping. Who was she attempting to fool, herself?
She loves him still, no matter how hard she tries to deny it.

 There he sits now, simply staring, his lips moving very slowly, as if he
were talking to some dream.  Ukyou had seen it happen once before, just a
few days ago, when her Ranchan had come into the restaurant to talk.  She
had just returned to Nerima, and had heard nothing of the events that had
happened.

 Nothing truly frightened her more than when Ranma just stopped listening.
It was an almost physical feeling of withdrawing.  She had realized later,
after learning of events, how horrid a mistake she had made.  She had begun
telling Ranma of her successful trip to see her mother.  He had obviously
needed someone to listen.

 She sighs, her eyes stinging from the acrid tears threatening to assault
her.  She is strong, though, and holds them back.  She will not look weak in
front of her friends.  "He needs to talk to someone, or we will lose him,"
She must concentrate on relaxing her body, her hands clenched so tightly
together that they had begun to hurt.

 "Maybe you should go and talk to him, Akane-Chan.  I mean... I think maybe
he needs to know you are worried, instead of angry with him," Sayuri
suggests tentatively, uncertain as to her friend's reaction to the idea.
She pokes at her own food, unsure if she is hungry or just feeling mutual
depression with Akane.

 "I dunno if Ranma could handle that, ya know? I mean, this whole shebang
started with Akane if you remember, could very well upset him even more if
she were to go and comfort him," Daisuke takes another hefty chunk of the
sub into his mouth chewing vigorously.

 The murmurs surround Akane, murmurs from the rest of the cafeteria.  Yet
even with the obvious distraction, she cannot ignore Daisuke's words.  She
puts her hand across one breast, a suddenly pained look blotting out her
otherwise beautiful features.  *It hurts.  Like my heart is breaking.  Why,
Kami.  Why must I destroy everything important to me?*

 "Daisuke! Shut up right now, or I'm going to get severe on your mug," Yuka
shakes a fist at the boy in black, her face red with fury.  She feels the
gazes of curious students, responses from her none too silent threat.
*Leave us be, you snooping twerps!* Her mind yells, wishing only that they
would turn back to their whispering.

 "You really aren't helping, Daisuke," Ukyou herself looks flustered,
agitated.  Maybe even ready to give Daisuke a taste of cold steel spatula
upside the head.  She turns her gaze to the window, watching the icy rain
falling from the sky in droves.  Her own heart feels empty, as if shucked of
any emotion but the reinforcing depression.  When had she last smiled?

 Gently he sets the sandwich down, the saran-wrap making its plastic
squelching sound as he pushes it slightly away from himself.  "You know, I
don't really care if I'm helping or not.  I ain't gonna lie to you and say
that everything will be peachy keen.  Ranma is really screwed up right now,
and even though it *IS* Akane's fault, that doesn't mean I gotta tell her it
ain't.

 You think Akane should go talk to him, fine, but don't blame me if he just
ignores her like everyone else.  Seems to be what he's been doing lately,"
Daisuke brushes off his suit, looking to make sure no stray lettuce or
tomatoe happened to find it's way onto his rather perfectly groomed outfit.

 Once more, the torrential tears assault Akane as she cries.  Her body
heaving in despair, the truth of Daisuke's words opening up the wound once
more.  The whispers around her become louder, as students take notice of the
sobbing girl.

 A soft breath exhaled, a shaking of brown locks.  Sayuri hugs Akane,
rocking her back and forth in a gentle embrace.  "Daisuke, sometimes you can
be very thoughtless.  Can't you see that Akane is torturing herself enough
over this???  She doesn't need someone reminding her of how this all came
about," It was the closest Sayuri had come to angry for a long while.  Her
demeanor wasn't one that was easily flustered.

 His fist slams into the table, knuckles red with tension as he stands.
"You think this is easy for me, huh!? You think I like the fact that my
friend, my BEST friend since I was three years old, has been ousted from
Nerima because the one he loves is sorta stuck in this whole thing because
of an arranged marriage? DO YOU THINK that I *LIKE* The fact that My OTHER
friend is crawling into a shell where NOBODY can get to him because the
person who loves him more than LIFE itself just ran away, out of his life?!
Do you think that I *LIKE* THAT?!"

 Fury.  Rage.  Both color his face in this moment, his hands clasping and
unclasping, and the desire to hit something strong in his demeanor, the
frustration and anger flooding through him unwasted on his present company.
Blinking, they cower back a moment in shock and fear of what MIGHT happen.

 Daisuke isn't that sort of fellow, to hurt any person weaker than him.
With a moment of pause, the anger slowly ebbs, the fury sloughing off of him
like so much dried mud.  Replaced by a more fearful, equally frustrated tone
of voice.  "Do you girls think I like being alone, Huh?" He smiles, an
obviously false attempt at ease.  "Nobody laughed at my jokes like Hiroshi.
Listen to me, I sound like he's dead or something," Now a laugh, tentative,
and full of nervous fear.

 Daisuke looks at the girls, who are now gazing with much sympathy at
Daisuke.  They understand loneliness.  *They don't understand my kind of
loneliness, though,* He admonishes himself.  *Nobody Does.*

 A gentle hand falls upon his shoulder, and he slaps it away, his hand
shaking lightly... his whole body shaking.  "Cut it, Ukyou.  I don't need
your sympathy, man," And he turns, picking up the remains of his lunch in an
almost mechanical manner, and then leaves the table with as much haste as is
allowed.

 They watch him go, a feeling of remorse making their moods even worse.
"With all the worrying about how Hiroshi has effected Ranma, nobody has
really even thought about how it's effected Daisuke," There is too much
truth in what Ukyou says, as the other girls lower their heads in no small
amount of shame.

 "They've known each other most of their lives, I should have realized it
sooner that Dai would be reacting badly to this situation too," Sayuri gazes
after Daisuke, wondering if perhaps they should have been more receptive and
comforting of his own needs.

 Once more the murmuring begins.  This time not so silently.  First Ranma's
self-isolation, Kuno and Hiroshi's disappearance, and now Daisuke upset???
The students know not what to think.  Once more, their world has been
upended; this time in a far less pleasant manner.

 "They've known each other that long, huh?" Ukyou's voice cracks for a
moment, emotions of loss and guilt washing over her.  She should have been
here for Ranchan; she should have been there to help him through this rough
time.  Everything seems in a shambles since she left.  There had been such
hope and brightness in her Ranchan's voice when last they spoke.

 Yuka only nods grimly, her face resolute as her arms cross beneath her
breasts.  A soft tap-tap-tapping as her shoes beat against the cafeteria
floor.  "They've been practical brothers in everything but blood," She
recalls every summer that Daisuke and Hiroshi would hold a debate and
philosophy study at the park.  There had always been much laughter
surrounding the two.

 Until Ranma.

 Could she blame Ranma?? Could she really think to herself that Ranma was
responsible for the world going to hell in a hand-basket?  Softly she shakes
her head, to herself.  No. There was nobody to blame.  Only cupid's foul
arrow that pierced true to the soul.  "I never thought things would turn out
this way," There is no remorse, no sadness this time.  A heavy sigh as her
shoulders slacken into a hopeless demeanor.  She is tired.

 "Ukyou," Akane's voice is low, her eyes fixated on the rain cascading
outside.  Tears of the Angel's?

 The chef watches Akane for a time before answering.  For the first time she
allows herself to see the woman Akane truly is... instead of the rival she
has always fought.

 *We're not so different after all, Akane-Chan,* Ukyou softly looked at
Akane's distinguished features, her delicate face so obviously female, so
obviously tortured that it made Ukyou hurt in her own right.  "Hai,
Akane-Chan?"

 Slowly she turns her brown eyes to Ukyou, her eyes still red from tears.
"He needs someone to talk to him... but- but Daisuke is right, I couldn't-
It would..."

 "Shh.  It's okay Sugar... I know what you mean," Ukyou almost felt
chastised before Akane.  All the times she had tried to take Ranma from her.
All the times that she had fought so hard to win some prize, she had been
fighting against this girl.   A girl who loves Ranma just as dearly as Ukyou
herself does.

 Her words are almost squeaked out, her voice so close to tears again it
stabs at Ukyou, "Please be careful with him?"

 The Chef stands; nodding as her hands run gently across her uniform, making
sure it is smoothed.  An almost habitual gesture.  "Hai Akane.  I know,"
There is no challenge in Akane now.  No war, no battle for who shall win
Ranma.

 A sharp right turn, the sound of Ukyou's footsteps as she draws closer and
closer to Ranma's table.  The seats are empty, save the pig-tailed martial
artist.  The murmuring quickens around Ukyou, but is quickly ended as she
glares fire that would consume any mortal man, hurling it at the students.

 Suddenly it is very quiet in the cafeteria.  She takes her seat, opposite
of Ranma, yet there is no recognition in Ranma's eyes.  Ranma stares through
her, beyond at something.

 "It's cold here, where is my coat??" The tones are soft, frighteningly
feminine, yet spoken in a male voice.  They cause Ukyou to shudder, her face
contorting in a painful realization.  *He's slipping away...*

 A soft laughter, almost dreamy in its harmony.  "Of course not, Silly.  I
would remember if I had.  Don't worry. I'm a big girl, I can handle a little
frigidness," Ranma tilts his head now, "I always liked it when you touched
my hair.  I feel safe..."

 Ukyou puts a hand to her heart, her face contorting in another form of
pain; Grief.  "Oh Kami, Ranchan, what have we done to you?" She wipes,
futilely, at her eyes... suddenly seeming very wet.  To lose someone to
death of the body, she thinks, is in some way easier than what is happening
to her Ranchan.

 Gently she reaches over, touching Ranma's hand with her delicate fingers.
Then, quite suddenly, her body tenses.

 "Why do you have to take me to such cold places, Hiro??? I'd rather go back
to the garden picnic," Worry clouds Ranma's face, which Ukyou only now
realizes is pale.  *Ranma doesn't get sick.*

 Ukyou grasps Ranma's hand suddenly, a shiver running down her spine.

 It is cold.

 "Ranma? Ranchan, listen to me... you're in Nerima, in Nerima, come back to
me Ranchan," Was there an edge of panic in her voice?? She couldn't panic,
not now.  Something was horribly wrong.

 "I was someplace warm before, Hiro.  I like being warm," Ranma looks dizzy
for a moment, almost as if he were losing consciousness.  He shivers, and
slowly begins to slip from his seat at the table.

 "NOO!" Ukyou screams, her voice reverberating off the walls of the
cafeteria.  She moves suddenly around the table, grabbing Ranma by the
shoulders, shaking the vacant Saotome child, "You are NOT LEAVING ME!" Her
strong grip tightens around Ranma's arms, and she shakes him again.

 "You are not leaving me, Ranma!" She embraces him roughly, holding him
tightly to her, feeling his cool skin against her own warm flesh.  " I won't
let you!  Wake up! WAKE UP!"  A sob escapes, tears running down her proud
face.

 Everyone stares at Ukyou, her loud words having brought full attention from
the members of Furinkan High.  Akane feels a rending pain in her heart, as
she realizes Ukyou has been feeling the same thing she has, ever since she
found out.

 Proud, Proud Ukyou; too strong to admit when she is afraid for someone she
loves.

 She is surprised when two arms wrap around her body, the cool cheek against
her neck warmer than it had been before.  "What's wrong, Ucchan? Why are you
crying?"

 Another sob escapes her, her mind drowning in the thought of whatever it
was happening again.  Her tears full of fearful joy, her thoughts wrapping
around the idea that she might lose Ranma at any moment.  Friend or not, she
could never stop loving him.

 "I just- thought I'd lost something today," She holds him tightly,
trembling.  "Don't do that to us, Ranchan," She whispers gently into his
ear.  She wishes all of those people weren't watching, she hates having to
justify herself to them like they seem to demand.

 Ranma only hugged his friend, an empty place in his heart haunting him.
*She loves me, Akane loves me, everyone falls in love with the wrong
person.*

 "I didn't do anything, Ucchan... I was just eating lunch," Slowly, softly
he speaks.  Almost every word being harder than the last, as if Ranma had
run a long distance in a short time and was short of breath.  Only Ranma
sounds weary, tired in an entirely different way.

 Gently she puts him at arms length, looking directly into his blue eyes
with her piercing green gaze, "Don't joke around with me, Ranchan, now is
really not the time," Stern, resolute, her voice firm.  If it was a joke,
she didn't think it funny at all.

 Squirming to freedom, the black haired Saotome child gives Ukyou an odd
look, "I'm not joking. I was sitting here eating, thinking about- about-,"
Suddenly there is a tortured look in Ranma's eyes, pain beyond pain, torment
beyond suffering.

 "Ranchan, you're scaring me," Now concern, worry over whether something is
wrong.  What happened couldn't have happened normally.  She couldn't believe
that it was just her imagination.

 "Ranma?" The voice causes him to recoil as if struck, draw in, his back
hunching over as if he were small, he shies from Ukyou's embrace, taking a
seat in order to be farther from the voice.

 Like a frightened creature he is edgy, "I didn't mean to hit you, Akane...
I'm sorry," There is so much sorrow in his voice.  So much loss, so many
memories transformed to nightmares.

 He wants to touch her, to kiss her, to hold her and tell her that he loves
her.  He can't though, not anymore.  Shame.  Shame.  No longer a man among
men, in love with another man.  His Best friend.  Even now that aching need
to be with Hiroshi burns in his veins.

 "I'm not angry, Ranma," Akane looks battered, weary as she speaks.  She was
fighting a losing battle with herself.  Her father, Ranma's mother and
father, all demanding that she marry Ranma.  No choice.  No bargain.  She
sees so clearly that it would kill him if it was forced.

 She longs to hold him, to dry his tears, to make the hurting stop.  She
cannot touch him, though; she lost the right to when she stabbed at his most
vital spot... that place that Hiroshi resided in.  A secret place, deep in
Ranma's heart.

 "You don't know how much, Akane... You have no idea how much... but it's
over now.  I don't know if I can ever forgive myself," Pain dances in the
moonlike glimmering of Ranma's eyes, for a moment she finds it hard to
breathe, the vision of a regal face invading her thoughts.

 A face she would give anything just to see smile once more.  If only for a
moment.

 Ucchan desperately wants to reach out, to hold her Ranchan once more in her
arms.  He had once had such a strong soul that she could never see any
weakness, yet that all seems stripped away now.  "Ranchan...  Akane forgives
you, I am sure.  She is worried about you, not angry with you... she loves
you and wants to help you get through this, just like I do," The words are
hard, she is willingly admitting defeat.  Possibly as close as she has ever
come to giving up on Ranma.

 But now it is for his sake that she places his needs above her own wants.

 Almost wild, a certain frantic fear flooding through his blood.  Heart
pounding, breath held... breath needed, breath strived for... breath finally
gained.  *Why, why is it so hard to breathe when I think of him?*

 He sees her brown eyes, her shining black hair.  The worry creasing her
face, making her seem older than her age.  Was this Akane? The angry Akane?
The Akane who is always so energetic and tomboyish?  *She looks like she
hasn't slept in weeks...*

 She wants to scream, to claw, to stab herself a thousand times over for
ever hurting him.  A tight, constricting ball of air lumping in her throat,
making it feel stretched and dry.  "Ranma, oh Ranma..." She can think of
nothing to say, words failing her as they so often do.

 Gently she extends a hand, as if reaching for the coast of some distant
shore, fingers outstretched.  She feels that being near Ranma is almost like
trying to catch motes of sunlight... so near impossible it can bring tears
of frustration and rage at times.

 Sometimes, though, you can almost feel as if you have caught that small ray
of sunlight.  Ranma reaches out with his own hand, taking Akane's... his
fingers numb and almost unfeeling, squeezing Akane's palm between his
fingers.

 She smiles.  That beautiful, Kami-inspired visage becoming bright for a
blazing instant.  *Akane... you are so beautiful when you smile...* Then,
his voice finds measure, tone, timbre...

 "- So beautiful when you smile -" a soft tugging at the corner of his
mouth, a half remembered time of insanity that almost seems... happy.  All
the madness, all the chaos.... through it there was Akane.  Always Akane.

 *When you smile- When you smile- when you smile-* Like a broken record it
repeats in his mind.... each time stabbing deeper as he recalls another
person who said those words.... only, to him.

 Would Hiroshi want him to be tortured? Unhappy? Would Hiroshi want him to
suffer the rest of his days without love???  No.  Then why? Why did he have
such a problem letting him go?

 "It's okay, Ranchan.  I understand how you must feel... but Akane," She
blinks several times, brushing a portion of her thick brown main behind an
ear, "Akane will help you through it all.  I'm here too, we won't let
anything happen to you."

 The two girls sit with Ranma, gently whispering to him.  Ranma listens as
best he can; often he finds his mind drifting back to the pain and loss of
that night when his heart had been shattered irrevocably.  In more ways than
one.

 He has tried to listen.  Has been finding it easier to just stay silent and
watch the teacher instead of connecting with any of the rumor mongers in
Furinkan.  Somehow he finds solace and peace from the suffering within
himself; where nobody can lash out and hurt him.

 *I never wanted to hurt Akane.  Never wanted to hurt Ucchan, or anyone.* He
watches them, noticing perhaps for the first time that they are growing
up...  no longer teen girls, they are becoming women.  Women who love him;
who may never stop loving him.

 "I just want you to be happy, Ranma.  I never wanted to hurt you.  I care
too much- I- I love you too much.  I hurt you once, I don't want to lose you
because of it," Akane's words pierce through Ranma's cloud of darkness,
summoning forth a faint glimmer of understanding in his eyes.

 Ranma's heart aches as Akane speaks.  She never meant to hurt him; he never
meant to hurt her.  She said that she loves him.  "I'm sorry, Akane," The
words come unbidden to his lips, ushering forth like a gentle wind, "It's
too late for me."

 Ukyou felt the chill once more, "Ranchan, please don't talk that way.  We
both love you so much that sometimes it hurts.  It's not too late to come
back to us.  Don't leave us, Ranchan, please?" Her eyes mist, tears
coalescing on the surface of them.

 "My soul has been torn apart, Ucchan.  It- it gets hard to breath
sometimes- and I- Kami I miss him," he grasps his chest, the pain of a
thousand knives being jammed violently into his torso rising from ghostly
wounds.  The breath leaves him and once more he feels the panic of
approaching darkness.  The darkness that comes when he cannot wrench the
breath from its ghostly thieves.

 "Kami, Akane, slap him on the back or something! He's choking!"  Ukyou
scrambles from her seat, rushing around the table and slapping Ranma hard on
the back repeatedly until a breath is drawn, raggedly, from betwixt his
lips.

 Akane stares, horrified, at Ranma.  The words that left her love's mouth
seeming blasphemy from everything she had ever longed to hear from him.

 *He loves him* Her mind cannot wrap itself around the idea, a feeling in
her chest mirroring Ranma's pain.  She stares numbly as Ukyou's hand
connects again and again upon Ranma on the back, not realizing that her
fiancée is in pain beyond imagining.  *He loves him- that much...*

 With a sputtering cough and a ragged gasp Ranma breaths once more, the
breath coming uneasily to him.  "Th-Thanks Ucchan," A gentle squeeze of his
hand in Ukyou's, tears misting in Ranma's blue-gray eyes.

 "Hey, it's not a problem Ranchan.  You know I'm here for you," She clips
the last part of the sentence, wondering exactly why she chose that phrase.
Was it because she wanted to be there for Ranma as a friend, or as a
girlfriend?

 "I hope you honestly realize how completely pathetic and disgusting this
display is, isn't that right girls?" The voice sent jolts of anger through
Akane, the hot prickling sensation dancing across her skin as she flushes
from the heat of the emotion.

 Ami wasn't someone welcome in the present company... and neither were her
girlfriends.

 Ukyou straightens herself, looking at the girl who had suddenly approached
and spoken quite abrasively.  "Hey, lay off, okay? Ranchan is in a lot of
pain," Ukyou finds her defenses suddenly springing up, the hair on the back
of her neck itching slightly.  Instantly her body tenses, and she steps a
bit closer to Ranma.

 Terror mixed with self-loathing, the emotions flashing across Ranma's face
are not wasted on his two companions.

 "Oh please, Ukyou.  He is simply vying for affection like the pathetic
little weasel he is.  I would think YOU would be one of the last people to
believe this crap," Almost sneering, Ami's eyes burn fire from their dark
recesses, fixated upon Ranma and his weakened state.

 Akane likens the girl to some sort of predator, waiting until the prey is
too weak to escape in order to attack.  "Ami.  I am going to break your
legs," The words splash forth in a rather colorful monotone.  Gazes turn to
Akane at the calm promise that had just been uttered.

 Ami blinks, unsure if she was hearing Akane correctly.  "What did you just
say?" In Ami's mind, she could conceive of no reason for Akane not to agree
with her.  Akane was still her friend, through some convoluted effort of
mental exertion.

 The two girls accompanying Ami likewise stand stunned, gawking at Akane,
who's own cold blue eyes promise violence.

 "Akane, you listen to me and you listen good.  Ever since Ranma has come
here there has been nothing but trouble.  Trouble and pain, for both you and
everyone else around Ranma," Lifting a finger in mocking accusation towards
Ranma, Ami continues, "You look at him, look at how pathetic he is now.
Look at what he deserves, what he has brought upon himself Akane!"

 Murmurs, whispers, half-voiced thoughts.  'Perhaps she is right' and
'Things were quiet before...' as well as 'No wonder nobody likes him'.  Each
word a serrated blade plunging deep within Ranma Saotome's soul as they are
brought forth.

 Alone.  Again.  Alone Always.  Ranma wonders why he ever thought it could
be otherwise.  *Everything I touch turns to dust.*

 Akane's fists tighten; she feels flesh being damaged by her nails as her
body shakes.  One step.  Two.  Inside she grins as Ami and her friends take
a step back.  She hears the words being muttered, but right now they don't
matter.  The deliverer of the pain has to be dealt with.

 One step.  Three.  Ami retreats at the swiftly growing storm raging forth
from Akane's molten gaze.  "Damn it, Akane, Listen to me! Think about the
people Ranma has known and hurt! Everyone that comes after him is trying to
marry or kill him! He's destroyed your life! He's destroyed ALL OF OUR
LIVES! YOU TELL ME, WHAT GOOD HAS COME OF HIM?!"

 Grace of a cat, swift as the wind she closes the distance between them.
Her father's words ring in her ears, "The Art is for defense of yourself and
for the ones you love, never should it be used to hurt another person.  You
have great power when you learn the art, and with it comes great
responsibility."

 The words seem hollow now.  Meaningless.  She silences the litany of words
cascading forth from Ami's mouth, a smooth pivot and a faint punch to the
girls face, changing the pivot into a full rotation and letting her elbow
connect suddenly with the girls unprotected midsection.

 Breath gone, gasping for air.  Ami bends forward from the blow, like a reed
in a high wind; her arms limp for a moment.  A moment is enough.

 Locking her hand about Ami's wrist and leaning forward in the same motion
that began the attack, Akane pulls downwards while continuing a slight
turning and bowing motion.  Ami ascends from the ground, tumbling over
Akane's shoulder only to connect with terra firma a second later.

 Half aware of two heavy weights on her arms, Akane raises her fist to land
a devastating blow directly to Ami's chest.  A loud thump seems to hover in
the back of her mind, all other sounds almost like molasses to her.

 Ukyou's voice pierces the rage surging through Akane's body.

 Akane pauses in her assault, casting a glance over at Ukyou.  They seem far
away to Akane, but one thing sticks in her mind.

 Ranma's inert form in Ukyou's arms.

"RANMA!!"


*  *  *  *  *  *

Somewhere north of Tokyo, a medium sized cart trudges along through the thin
layer of snow that has matted the ground.  The sun, partly concealed by the
dark gray clouds above, shines almost weakly against the cold bite of
pre-winter frost.  Two tightly bundled figures sit on the back of the cart,
while a third figure pulls it along at a steady speed.

It's not every day you see a giant pig pulling a wooden cart.

 "No, I insist, I baked them myself.  The least you can do is try one,
Ryouga-Chan," She offers the cupcake to her love, holding it carefully out
as if it were a precious gift.  Akari Unryuu takes pleasure in the simple
things of life, something that has always endeared her to Ryouga Hibiki.

 Ryouga has had worse.  He would readily admit that if asked.  He could
certainly think of a more bitter and unsavory situation than riding on the
back of a wagon drawn by a sumo pig with a woman who is, for all intents and
purposes, madly in love with him.

 Ryouga usually considers this a good thing; in fact, he might even go as
far as to be happy in these circumstances.  He often is in the presence of
Akari.  Only one problem Remains.

 Ranma Saotome.

 Arms crossed, sitting in lotus position, Ryouga's face is serious, as if in
deep contemplation.  "If you are going to keep insisting, I'm going to have
to say yes you know."

 A soft, silken giggle, "I know... that's the idea, isn't it?"  Ryouga's
disposition is not unknown to Akari.  Gently she tilts her head in that
slightly innocent, girlish, inquiring manner that many women seem to be fond
of.

At least, Ryouga thinks many women are.

 "Ryouga, what is bothering you so much?  Is it Ranma still?" There isn't
any trepidation in the words she speaks, no pausing in the questions she
asks.

Sometimes Ryouga wonders if Akari thinks they are already married.  The
painful thought of Akane rises from that contemplation, but quickly he
pushes it aside.

He has too much to think about as it is.  Gently he nods his head, a sad
twinkle in his eyes, "Akari, if you had been there you would have seen.  I
would not wish Ranma's suffering on the devil himself, I actually feel
guilty," He unfolds his arms, placing one against his head as his body
shakes lightly, "All the times I wished Ranma ill..."

Akari slaps Ryouga gently on the arm, "Ryouga-Chan, stop trying to convince
me.  Are we not on a cart? Are we not going to Nerima? Am I not here to help
you with anything, should anything bad happen to you or your friends?"
Looping an arm around Ryouga's, she leans gently on him, the warmth of her
body close to his.

A deep sigh, one only the wanderer could exert.  "I know, Akari.  It's just
that I- I-"

"You feel responsible.  Don't, it's not your fault that fate plays cruel
tricks on people sometimes, Ryouga-Chan," She brings her hand, covered by a
thick mitten, and caresses the black-haired boy's cheek softly.  "Please,
Ryouga-Chan, at least try and be happy that you care for Ranma, instead of
thinking about what you've done in the past to him."

He stares at her, her love filled eyes, her gentle hand upon his cheek.  Her
words soothe him; make him look inward, farther than he usually lets
himself.  It makes him look outward, seeing the horizon that he always
missed.  "He's my friend, and I think-" He looks down, into his empty hands,
hands filled with tremendous strength.  "I think that perhaps this is
something I can't fight sometimes; but I know that Ranma needs someone.
Anyone."

Softly, like the wind caressing the trees, she lets her hand drift down,
resting in his.  Her soft, wool mitted hand warm in his own.  "Ryouga-Chan,
even if Ranma can't be helped, that is no reason not to try.  If what you
say is true, he may need friends more now than ever before."

Suddenly, the cart comes to a direct stop.  Katsunishiki snorts loudly as
his massive body sinks to the ground to rest.  His energy drained by the
frosty chill in the air, as well as the long trek across land.

A deep, rumbling sigh escapes Ryouga's mouth, forming into a fine mist from
the cold.  "I suppose... since we've stopped that I should have a snack," He
summons forth his best smile for Akari.  *She doesn't deserve seeing me this
way,  she's done so much for me*

Akari unwraps one of the cupcakes, handing it to her beloved.  Patiently she
watches him eat the delectable snack, taking small bites in a very
thoughtful disposition.  "So do you like it?" She asks apprehensively,
unable to imagine what could have shaken her beloved so badly.

Ryouga heaves another hefty sigh, looking at the partially devoured cupcake,
"Oh Akari, it's wonderful.  You've been wonderful too," He looks up, his
dark green eyes flashing.  "You've done so much for me, and now all of this;
I don't know if I can ever repay you."

She tilts her head now, looking at him with a girlish innocence, "There's no
need, Ryouga-Chan... your love is all the sustenance my soul requires."

He looks up, at the dark clouds that flit across the sky in patches of gray.
"...Sustenance... does that mean Ranma's soul is starving without him?" The
vivid image sticks in his mind, Ranma weeping in the dojo; her eyes as red
as her hair.  Shivering, too, from the cold that had been out that night.

*What a way to remember the Prom, Ranma.*  His thoughts are interrupted as a
warm body shifts, drawing closer against him.  Without thought, he lifts his
arms, drawing Akari closer to him. A half-content smile drifts sleepily
across his weary features.

"You have changed so much since we met, Ryouga-Chan," She sounds happy, yet
lamenting in the same moment.  Perhaps she regrets all the hardships that
her love has been forced to endure over their brief time of acquaintance.
"Sometimes I wonder if I know you at all, Hibiki Ryouga."

He holds her tighter against himself, his face contorting slightly in pain.
*Why must I feel so detached from everyone I know?  Damn my horrid
direction.* He relaxes suddenly, a thought washing the other away.  *But-
people are so honest to a lost wanderer.  They see the sadness I carry.
Ranma must be burdened with those who know him well enough to deceive and
use him.*

"Akari," He pulls her against him again, resting his chin atop her head as
he pulls her gently into his lap.  "You know what is important about me; my
curse, my love for- for-" He pauses, finding that wound still fresh, still
confusing from the most recent events in the Tendou Household.

It was true that his love for Akane had fallen to the backburner since he
had met Akari, but he still harbored deep feelings for her, and hated seeing
her hurt in any way.  The conflict inside him, though, was that for all
intents and purposes, she had deserved the cruelest of blows.  Struck by her
fiancée and love.

The girl in his arms gives forth her own ushering of outward breath, misting
as cold as his own.  "Ryouga, how much do you think that I love you?"  She
dislikes the tenseness in him that suddenly springs forth again.  He has
such difficulty with words at times, especially around pretty girls.

"I- Akari- What are you asking- I don't think that-"  He finds himself
silenced, her soft mitted hand against his mouth, the warmth of her hand
soaking through the thick woolen mittens.

"Since we met, you told me about Akane.  Since I have known you, that
feeling has never wavered, even though-" She pauses, lifting her hand from
over his mouth, "-What was between us has grown.  I always entertain and
think about the idea that you still might choose her.  It would hurt me,"
Again her words take a momentary lapse before she continues on, "But, I love
you enough to understand if you ever had to make that choice, it would be
for Akane and her happiness."

"Akari..." He wants to say something, ANYTHING to take away that little bit
of sadness that such things cause within her.

"I love you for your honor, too, Ryouga-Chan," She hugs him, as if he might
soon pass on to some afterlife and she may never again lay living eyes upon
him.  "You are kind, and loyal, and compassionate.  Loving, and selfless,
and understanding; these are the things I value you for, Hibiki Ryouga.  You
remember that.  And if ever, if EVER there comes a time you have to prove
those things to me, I ask you to do so no matter the consequences."

He adjusts his position, his hands grasping her and holding her at a length
which he can look down and into her eyes comfortably, "Akari-Chan, I- Know
that I might seem so very confused at times.  I- I have just been unhappy
for so long that I don't know if I can decide so quickly.  I want to be happ
y.  You make me happy.  Akane thinks of me only as a friend," He takes her
hands tightly into his own, holding them as if they were frail sakura
blossoms.

"All my life I have been lost and alone, and now you are where my heart
calls home.  My poor mistreated heart of glass.  I want nothing, nothing at
all than to be with you forevermore until my heart beats it's last," He
pulls her to himself, embracing her, his eyes closed in a gentle, wistful
manner.

"Sometimes, though, you give me too much credit.  There are some things that
I want to tell you, but I am just not ready.  Shameful things," Stroking her
silken hair, a sad fire burns in his eyes.  Dishonor.  To someone who is a
friend, no less.  A continued lie that he couldn't seem to escape.  He still
can't.

"It doesn't matter to me, Ryouga-Chan... all that matters to me is if you
are happy.  That is why we are here, in this cart, going to Nerima.  So that
you can be happy for having done all you can for a dear friend," She looks
up at him, her eyes shimmering lightly with an unspoken emotion.  One Ryouga
knows well, coming from Akari.  One he was quite absent of for most of his
existence.

Crisp, sharp, abrupt he speaks, "Ranma has saved my life several times, even
though he- gave me this curse.  I cannot hold that against him any longer.
I could have been forever stuck as a pig with- with Herb and his damn
Chiisuiton, But Ranma sacrificed what could have been the only cure so that
Mousse and I could return to normal, many times have we fought together," He
squeezes Akari in his arms, gently as if she were a porcelain doll.

"I am sure you and he make great allies when you are not fighting,
Ryouga-Chan, and if this journey says anything about your feelings... good
friends too," Her smile is bright, shining in the snowy eve around them.
There is such hope and love in Akari Unryuu.

A smile, bearing fangs and a toothy grin.  Dark green eyes dancing with a
happiness that seems alien to them.  "I guess we are, Akari," a nod, then he
leans forwards, carefully kissing the girl in his arms upon the cheek.
Innocent love, romantic love, love which only Ryouga could provide to her.

"Let's set up camp for the night before it starts getting too cold,
Ryouga-Chan," Her breath mists as she exhales, rubbing her arms with her
hands as she hops off the cart.

Silently they move, a tranquil calm and feeling of companionship ever
connecting them with their motions, moving in unison with an almost natural
ease.  They are compliments to each other.

Ryouga's hands are quick, efficient from long years of practice during
travel.  He proffers a fang-toothed smile to Akari as he finishes setting up
the tents.

He pauses a moment, looking out over the vast whiteness that the infrequent
snow had blanketed the countryside with.  Taking a deep breath of the cool
air and letting it chill his lungs for a brief moment, he lets it out,
watching his breath mist amidst the cool evening wind.

He's been many places, seen many kinds of winters.  Each one a newfound love
for it's serene and slumbering beauty.  More recently each a newfound reason
to fear, ice water being abundant in that time of year.

A shiver.  An intent look as he almost hears something.  Shadow of sunlight,
a sharp but almost ghostly note that seems to dance upon the crystallized
air as elusive as pixie dust.  A deep unsettling feeling sitting low in his
stomach at the almost ethereal tone.

Softly, but with the sharpness of a katana her words slice through the
moment, "Ryouga? Are you all right, dear?" A simple question, one causing
him to jump and to look at her.

"I thought I heard something," He looks about, as if the note might suddenly
materialize... he half wondered if it had been a single note or a string of
them from some eerie choir.

She gracefully approaches, arm snaking out around his waist as she looks up
at him, at his distant look.  Intense.  Searching.  "What did it sound
like?" She tilts her head to the side, curious, searching in her own right
for what had caused her love to seem so intent.

"I don't know," It is gone now, his muscles easing as he recalls it's
strange feel.  "Like Silver Wind."


*  *  *  *  *  *

Falling.  Falling.  A feeling of overwhelming darkness devouring her as the
light she so loved fades quickly behind her.  The darkness pulling, tearing
at her clothes, at her body.

She cries out in pain as the wind buffets her, a foul zephyr that reeks of
age-old decay and thousands of years of isolation.  Falling.  Falling, the
darkness wrapping around her small frame and swallowing it up completely.

Impact.

Coughing from the violent stop, she curls into a ball, her body aching from
hairline to feet.  A thick haze of dust swirling up around her still form.
Somewhere, in the distance, a blacksmith's hammer collides heavily with its
anvil.  Again.  Again.  Metal on hot metal.

Shivering.  Cold.  She clenches her eyes tighter, a soft whimper whispering
forth from her pale lips as a tear strolls gently down a cheek.  Still the
hammer colliding, still the echo of metal, forgery forging.  An image with
each resounding of the sledge.

<Clang>Blood.
<Clang>Wings that glow softly like the moon.
<Clang>A cloud of White feathers.
<Clang>Iron Nails.
<Clang>

A mask, spinning off into darkness, an expressionless look on it's face, the
eyes devoid of anything.

*Open* A voice rises within her.

<Clang>A figure nailed up.
<Clang>Blood pouring forth.
<Clang>A spring rising where the blood falls.
<Clang>

The spring darkens, like a drop of pure night had been added and it was
slowly corrupting the pristine pool.

*OPEN* The voice demands, no... commands.

A moment falls upon her.  Everything pure white, white everywhere.
Everything.  A man standing, disheveled auburn locks about his face, held
back by a white banner of balance wrapped with great care around his head.
He is dressed in white also, but his eyes are green as the living forest.

His hand rises, and presses against a transparent barrier of air.  His lips
move in words like, "I promise," with I-Love-You in his eyes.

*OPEN* It bids, it's voice feminine, masculine.  Powerful.  Gentle.

The man in white presses harder, and suddenly the barrier shatters, shards
of shimmering glass flying towards her... and her eyes were opened.


 *  *  *  *  *  *

 Music.  Ivory notes dancing on the wind.  Deep. Somber, almost beautifully
tragic.  Her eyes blink as they open, the blur of the gray dust cloud around
her seeming to caress her clothes.

 Notes... powerful, splendid, full of dark lament.  *Piano* Her mind
whispers.  Ivory keys and ivory notes.  Something else, low, accompanying.
A violin.

 It swirls, the melody... a familiar song, but one evading her grasp.  She
sits up slowly, her whole body aching from the solid impact.  Shock sketched
upon her face as she looks down at her clothing, rich died silks in 9
layers, embroidered with gold and silver trim.  A lifted hand, a curious
look at the strange barbed tattoos around her wrists.

 Calm.  Settled, the dust clears... around her is a desolate landscape of
twisted and misshapen fauna.  The lamenting song almost meshing and
caressing the malformed trees.

 Slowly she rises up, taking to her feet, wavering for a moment as dizziness
assaults her skull.  Colors, pastels, dancing across her vision.  Then with
a cracking noise everything seems to snap back into place again.

 Silk.  A Kimono.  Embracing her body in its gentle warm folds.  She could
not fathom why she was wearing those clothes.  All she understood was that
her head was pounding like the spokes of a train.

 Silver light.  Shining down upon her form.  The moon large and pale in its
throne amongst the stars.  Majestic.  That ephemeral song dancing upon the
wind, causing a shiver to pass through the redhead standing there, amidst
the deformed land.

 One.  Two.  One.  Two.  Almost like an exercise, she sluggishly begins to
move, weaving off balance, tossing arms forwards and backwards as she
realizes that she is wearing Geta on her feet, explaining the difficulty in
balance.

 Her mind absently wonders why she is wearing the wooden block sandals... or
where she is.  Or why she is dressed in a Kimono.  Idly her hand smoothes
over the richly died silks, the other caressing her hair with the same
silken texture.

 Balance found.  She begins moving, as if she suddenly had been walking in
Geta all her life.  Her sapphire gaze dancing around the misshapen sakura
trees, which twist and turn at odd angles.  She is uncertain how long she
walks... only that she stops suddenly, her breath catching, as her eyes
behold a temple fashioned of polished marble, gleaming in the moonlight.

 Out of thin air, behind and to the left of the Temple, a waterfall cascades
down into a crystal clear pool.  Surrounding the base of the steps is a
large garden full of flowers, one side roses, the other lilacs.  The colors
seeming brilliant and almost glowing with life as the moon casts it's silver
light upon them.

 The sound of something being cut.  A blink as her deep blue eyes turn to
look at the woman in the kimono.

 The woman's hair was a shade darker than blood... almost a brown, and wavy.
Her skin pale amidst the moonlight.  Gently she cradled the ripe buds of the
roses, whose beauty caused a stirring ache within Ranma's breast.  The
woman's eyes a sharp gray. The name Nodoka comes unbidden to the redhead's
mind, the visage seeming familiar to her sapphire eyes.

 The snipping sound again, the bud from the beautiful living rose falling
from its stem as the woman, Nodoka, removes it with scissors.

 "Why are you doing that?" The crimson haired young woman asks, a bleeding
wound within her soul suddenly sprouting up at the improper treatment of the
rose.  Her hand is upon her chest, her eyes tearing a bit at the site of the
mutilation.  Even now she can see, beneath the light of the moon, the life
ebbing from the petals of the rosebud.

 A pause.  The woman's gaze coming up to meet Ranma's.  For a moment her
gray eyes consider Ranma... looking almost through the girl before taking on
an angry melody in their misty irises.  "Of what concern are MY roses to
you?" Nodoka demands, holding the pruning blades in an unconsciously
threatening manner.

 A step backwards.  A look of confusion.  Nodoka had not spoken with a
venomous tone, in fact the tone was rather sweet... but there was a strange
edge to her voice that warned Ranma that meddling in her affairs would not
be tolerated.  "I- I just thought they were so beautiful.  I wanted to know
why you would ever harm them?" A slight feeling of odd familiarity, Ranma
wondering if that question had been asked before somehow.

 The woman turned from Ranma, pruning the rosebud from yet another stem.  "I
have tired of their beauty.  I have cultivated them as much as I can, but
now I need the strong rosebushes.  They are more valuable to me." There was
a calm, motherly tone about her voice.  It brought back memories to Ranma.

 Of the scent of perfume and the warmth of a protective embrace, someone
that would always keep her from harm.  Someone that would never ever think
to hurt her.

 A shake of her head.  Ranma's crimson locks bouncing with the movement as
she brings a hand up, rubbing her temple.  Wondering why there seems to be
little physical sensation to her fingers.

 "Why are they more valuable?" The inquiry is met with a tensing of the
older woman's body.  Again she prunes a blossom from its stem, causing Ranma
to wince in pain, almost as if she was having something important cut out of
her in the same instant.

 "Naturally," The woman begins, "The thorn bushes provide menace and imbue a
look of strength to the temple surroundings.  The beauty of the roses is not
needed any further, so I am removing it from the common grounds."

 Tears began then, she feels them rolling down her cheeks.  Her hand tenses,
tightens, fingers gripping and tangling in the fabric of her Kimono as she
watches the older woman destroy the pristine beauty of the landscape.  "Why
did you plant the roses then?  Why not plant something else with thorns that
was brutally ugly?"

 Her voice is piercing, accusing.  It shocks her the anger that seems to
ride on every syllable of her words, coupled with the sorrow embracing the
words themselves.  Ranma realizes absently that she is trembling.

 Nodoka sighs now, looking carefully at the flowers as if contemplating some
deeper decision.  Her eyes look lonely and distant, her body less tense than
a moment before.  "My Husband planted the roses.  I made a promise to take
care of their beauty," A brief moments pause, an inward struggle to keep
tears in check.  Perhaps a reminder to stay a strong example to this young
woman.

 "Why?" It comes out a squeak.  Barely audible past the lump in Ranma's
throat, her dark blue eyes misted with tears, hand shaking as it clutches
the fabric of her own kimono.

 The older woman seems close to tears herself, one hand caressing another
rose before she cuts it from its life source.  "I was always a gentle woman.
I never wanted to be the strong one, I never wanted to take command and be
the one who cares for everything."

 "But when the beauty of the roses began drawing the attention of young men
and women, who wished to take the roses from me- I- I did what I must," Her
voice wavers, and she slips in her ministrations of the buds, the sharp
scissors severing one of her elegant fingers.

 Her face contorts in pain, and she bites her lip to keep from screaming.
Carefully she holds the hand up, looking at the bleeding stump before she
bursts into tears, her face cradled in her unwounded hand.

 A gentle voice.  Aged.  Learned.  A soft whisper behind the younger woman,
as if the voice spoke over her right shoulder.

 "For her pain washed the seed, and it grew stronger.  Her blood was it's
life, and her fears fed it's roots... thus was she made happy when at last
she opened her eyes and was awed in the glory of the dawn she had blinded
herself to."

 Shock, a quick movement, her kimono fluttering as she spins around, the
world seeming to slow down to a crawl and then snap into place once more.

 Sparks danced with the striking noise of the hammer upon steel.  A man
heavily muscled, aged yet still youthful in his eyes.  A name summoned again
from the air, Genma.

 Body glistening with effort, skin tanned dark, as if he has spent years in
the forge.  He pauses, breathing deeply the heady thickness of the hot air
around him.  A hand, large, wiping his brow of sweat.

 Heat, sweltering and viscous.  The heat falling upon her in waves, causing
the layers of clothing closest to her skin to cling to her flesh.  With the
same practiced Elegance before she steps closer to the forge and blacksmith,
eyes darting from one point to another, confusion and curiosity on her
features.

 Eyes, piercing, harrowing.  The man takes notice of the pale young woman
before him, yet responds only by lifting his hammer, other fist clenching
the tongs that hold the steel, the impact of hammer against metal.  Sparks
erupting from the contact. "What do you want, Girl?" There is no pretense,
nor is there desire of one from the succinctness of the question.

 Confusion, disorientation.  She finds herself wavering unsteadily on her
feet, taking an unsteady step forward as everything dances across her vision
The world seems to swim, swimming together, the shapes seeming to float into
each other before it once again snaps into a solid state, the man catching
her in his arms.

 Stone.  A jaw, depthless eyes, yet somehow hiding something.  They look
down at her.  No, his face was not just hard planes and rugged strength.
No, his face was stone.  Fingers, drifting, they float up and touch the
visage in front of her.

 Gravel grinding, stone against stone his words, "What do you want," rock,
strength, support.  She realizes his arms are stone, as is the rest of him.

 "I- I am lost, I think-" Suddenly pain, her mouth open wide in a silent
screaming rictus, swallowing the world.  The world swallows her.  Snapped,
like a rubber band her soul is stretched, wrenched from it's body, thrust
into a vast and abysmal pit.  Darkness all around, her body being shredded,
molecule by molecule.  Screams.  A thousand screams.

 Fire.  Ice.  Dancing across her skin as she is thrown violently back into
her body.  Choking, gagging, attempting to catch breath from the suffocation
of that immense empty place.

 Arms around her.  Strong, stone arms.  "We are all lost until we find the
way, Girl," Smooth, simple, words tumbling forth as if off of sleet.
Trembling, fear.

 *I am afraid* Shock.  Disbelief.  Somehow, she did not think she would ever
be afraid.  Somehow, a part of her did not understand fear.  Arms.  Stone
arms, gentle around her.  Softly stroking her silk hair with large, rocky
hands.

 "What- What were you doing?" Voices, inside of her, chastising her.  How
can you be so weak? How can you show fear, a true martial artist shows no
fear.  Fear is weakness.

 Wrenching.  She turns, her face contorted once more in a look of pain.  A
face.  White cloth.  Flashing, then gone.  Her arms folded beneath her
breasts, her back to the strange Genma man.

 Grating stone, deep, resounding as a mountain, "Re-forging a sword," Metal
on metal, sparks, the heat of a bellows.  Of course.  She should have
guessed.

 Fire, heat.  Blue eyes gazing on as the tongues hold the shaft of metal in
the heat... lifting it after what seems like an eternity, bringing it to the
blank ebon face of the anvil.  Great hands of stone wielding a hammer,
bringing it down upon the glowing alloy.

 "The metal, it never knows I am guiding it... shaping it.  Sweating over
it, dreaming over it.  The metal, it is innocent, virgin.  It once was a
fine weapon, fit for any battle," Anger, lava thick in the words spilling
from his mouth, anger at whom though?

 Lifting, her eyes pierce through the stone visage, seeing deeply within
this Genma person.  "You love the weapons."

 Haste, his hand coming up, his depthless eyes considering the hammer in his
hand, then looking upon the glowing ember on the anvil, "It is art, it is my
life.  I spent my life forging.  What am I to feel, knowing that which I
never knew before.  No man is perfect, and every blade has a flaw."

 An exploding metal sound as the man of rock brings the hammer violently
down on the shaft of metal, flattening it.  "I never knew.  Of course he
knew, I never saw it," A short laugh, seemingly like an abrupt eruption of
fire from deep within his stone gullet.  "Not even half my age, and he knew
the truth of the metal."

 Soft skin.  Softly caressing the strangely cold lump of metal on the anvil.
"It is a heart," Her words drift forth as if as a single thought drifting
free of Lete.

 A shiver passes through her, a thick liquid scent seeming to permeate her
being... gentle drifting notes of some oft forgotten melody from childhood.
A silver wind, "And low... the wisest of them all had been the most foolish.
What outer strength he did wish to show far hidden within, his sacrifice,
perhaps, never to be known," Familiar, that voice ushering silver melodies
into her ears, words of some meaning.

 As if of a memory of a friend in a dream which has faded.  Once more she
turns the world seeming to incinerate itself while she felt ice plunging
into her heart.

 And she was falling.

 *  *  *  *  *  *

 Gray light shines in through the thin pane of the window.  Outside, it is
softly snowing... the thick, wet flakes drifting down and intermingling upon
the ground like so many sakura petals.

 There is a silent tension in the room, where the shadows play across
everything.  A small lamp, by the bedside, gives forth it's own light to
intermingle with the gray shine cascading through the window.

 The light which intermingles causing the room to look similar to a faded
color photograph, bleeding off the rich tones over time.

 A face, peaceful in slumber, black hair framing its serene youthful
complexion.  The body, which the face is attached to, is relaxed.  As if it
were but a rag doll, or a puppet whose puppeteer had left it behind.

 His body, Ranma's body, is wrapped in blankets of wool and cotton, Akane's
bed soft beneath his slack form.

 Three other figures sit, straight-backed, beside the slumbering figure.
All female.  One is dressed in the black male uniform of Furinkan High
School, her brown hair bound back by a white sash of silk, tied up into a
ribbon.

 Another, with tension in her posture, her hands softly cradling one of
Ranma's.  Her eyes are tired, red.  There are no more tears to be cried, the
supply exhausted for the time being.  The images of earlier that day
flashing in her mind, everything in a deep red haze as she attacked the girl
named Ami.

 She tells herself she has done the right thing.  Tells herself that she was
completely justified in assaulting the loud-mouthed harpy that was doing her
damnedest to destroy any sense of hope that Ranma might have left.

 Yet, she cannot shake the fact that she has attacked someone who could not
conceivably defend themselves, and for only voicing their harsh, cruel
opinions.

 She holds onto that, at least... the girl was cruel, and deserved it.

 The third figure in the room is someone of naturally calm demeanor, with an
aura of sugar and spice.  The worried expression she is wearing something
that has been too common as of late.  Just a short month ago, she would not
have wore such an expression, but one of a more pleasant nature.

 Mirroring her sister, she cups one of Ranma's unresponsive hands in hers.
Her eyes fixated on the pale, sickly looking person on the bed.  Much like
her smile, Ranma's health seems to have vanished since the leaving of the
boy... the boy who changed everything.

 The elder sister's lips part.  The words pouring forth as gray and
un-definable as the pale light cascading into the room from the window, "You
say that he simply collapsed, Akane-Chan?" Her delicate, soft hands gently
dip the cool cloth in and out of the bowl full of crisp, cold water three
times.  Squeezing the excess from the cloth, she carefully dabs the forehead
of the boy upon the bed.

 Only a nod is emitted from the girl with the short-cropped black hair.  At
one point, she would have been infuriated that Ranma was on her bed, for any
reason.  It seems to her that those moments are so far away, swallowed up by
the enigmatic tumult that has thrown the chaotic world of Ranma Saotome into
chaos quite unfamiliar to them all.

 "It was that Ami girl, I think, Kasumi-Chan," A shining spatula sits in her
hand, she considers it, her reflection clear against its carefully polished
surface.  She weighs in her mind all the faults of her past, forced to live
as a man for so long, who had she become? Is she Ukyou, the boy she had been
raised as?  Or is she the girl whose delicate heart had been forever
captured by the boy sitting immobile on the bed?

 A full body sigh.  Kasumi's form seeming to shrug with weariness, so much
had happened recently.  Her house seemed to be falling apart around her.
"Please, Kuonji-San... tell me what happened," Her eyes fixate on the pale
flesh of Ranma's hand, surrounded by the blue and white of Akane's
comforter.

 "Ranma isn't the same, he's so tired.  He's just so tired- and- and- it
hurt him, what the girl said," She turns, her eyes taking in the dim light
from the window.  Gently, hand drifting upwards, she touches her cheeks.  An
uncommon wetness is discovered.  *Am I... Crying?* It had become a habit of
late, she realizes.  When had she become so weak?

 Grey light, shadows.  The room looking too similar to a faded photograph to
her eyes.  The colors half-alive, everything in some sort of pseudo-state of
existence, as if everything was held motionless, like the young man on the
bed.  The young PERSON on the bed...  *I cannot think of him as a man, when
he doesn't know what he is.*

 Her head turned back towards the eldest girl in the room.  Her sorrow only
reflected in the elder girl's eyes.  Unbearable, the emotions drifting
through the soft brown orbs of Kasumi Tendou's eyes.  Ukyou turns away,
looking down upon herself and again finding that chilling sensation creeping
slowly up her spine.

 Everything has changed.  Her existence, her love, the people who had until
now been reliable to a predictable level... everything seemed as if it were
falling apart.  Twice again she parts her lips, attempting to will words
from between them, but stayed by the simple fact that she does not know what
to explain.  Her body is limp, weary as she leans against the wall beside
the window.  She does not recall having walked there... perhaps she drifted.

 "We were trying to comfort Ranma.  He seems so lonely since... THEN
Oneechan," Her eyes fixating on Ucchan.  Here, Ranma's best friend and
closest confidante.  She seems compelled, as if she cannot look away from
her.  What has happened to them all?  So much suffering seems to have
exploded in their faces.  Was this what Hiroshi had intended when he began
his quest to help Ranma?

*No.* That she is sure of.  Tearing her eyes away from Ukyou, she turns them
back to her sister, who silently waits like some patient saint.

"She approached us both, there was no warning.  Ranma... he looked
incredibly ill.  Ami began insulting him.  I do not know why she began doing
this, only that it began at my slumber party," Crisp, yet emotionless.  It
is a report, no feeling or passion in it, as if her words had been drained
of feeling.  Perhaps she simply is exhausted.

How could she say it otherwise?  Tired, weary.  Her body feeling for all the
life of her drained, succumbing to some life-sapping force.  Perhaps she
felt connected to that figure lying upon the bed, looking absolutely frail.
The images of her face, as if she were reflected in some mirror... or
viewing herself from outside, as she attacked the girl.

A sense of falling.  Akane feeling as if she is being sucked down into
herself by the well of dark emotions that run turbulent through her heart.
Her inner voice begging to see his cocky smile, his carefree arrogance and
pride, knowing now it is far too late for such frivolous hopes.

 So she hopes simply for him to come back, no matter what might happen.  The
fear of losing him greater than the fear of never being his.

 Sadness.  An expression not common on the face of Kasumi.  A gentle, curt
nod... acknowledgement of the facts.  She feels helpless, again the sense of
failure.  She was to protect the family, keep them safe.  Ranma might not
have been family by name, but he was family nonetheless.

 Helpless.  Her soul devoured by the feelings of frustration.  She should
have done something, she should have been able to help Ranma, her duty.
Always her duty...  she had promised to keep them all happy, promised
Mother.  Pain, dark pain, welling up.  Eating her insides, tears springing
to her eyes suddenly, without announcement.  Her hand clasped so tightly to
the boy's who lay inert upon the bed.

 "It's just like Mother, all over again," Pouring forth, like a fount of woe
as two tears stroll gentle trails down innocent cheeks, so long unfamiliar
to such wetness.  Helpless, again, as another loved one is devoured by
grief.  A strange, intangible mourning.

 "DON'T SAY THAT!" A girl yells, hair cropped short, eyes red from tears
long shed.  "Don't say that, Kasumi, please" Her voice rasping as she
speaks.  She grasps the boys other hand tightly as well, shaking her head,
her eyes clenched shut like coffin lids.  She will not believe.  Not of the
one person who she once gave her life for.  "Never say that," Words full of
sobs and heaves and burning acrid saline.

 A skeletal moment. Still, bare, motionless as death.  Three women, all
seated, waiting, praying, grieving for the living.  A shadow at the door,
hovering silent as a still wind.  Movement, the sweeping clatter of silk on
silk.  A woman of elder years, looking stern, worried, as mournful as the
rest.

 "What has happened to my son?" Words like a puppet, expected, announced
before spoken.  Tense, on fragile strings they drift, awaiting an answer.
Her deep blue eyes fierce, weary, worried.  She steps careful, precise,
graceful into the room, her stride practiced, her armor donned well and
thick.

 Strings cut, her expression no longer practiced.  Her eyes grow wider as
she sees the figure resigning itself upon the bed.  Pale, troubled visage.
"Kami-sama," She had expected something of an injury, a wound that could be
treated.  Her eyes searching desperately for a gash, an abrasion, anything
that would give credence to the weak, drained look upon her dear child's
ghostly features.

 Motions mirror thought, Nodoka's hand tenuously drifting upwards.
Fingertips brushing against gentle, rose-petal soft lips, surprise at her
astonishment.  Disbelieving of her shock.  A thousand questions flitting
from her mind like ashes rising from a fire.

"Kami-Sama, what has happened?" Emotions now, thick in her words and voice.
No longer practiced, worry surfacing from the dark waters of professional
detachment she had been draping around herself for some time now.  Her socks
whisking softly across the carpet, no matter that her knees feel weak now.

Fear was known.

Inferno blazing in eyes of earthen shade, looking upon the mother of the
victim in malice.  Eyes unwelcoming, procuring that this new woman is not
welcome here.  The girl with short hair grips Ranma's hands even tighter,
holding onto it as if it might suddenly fade.  "A girl at school attacked
him emotionally, Aunty," There is barely contained anger.  Akane does not
know if she directs it at Nodoka, or at herself for being so cowardly as to
not be there for Ranma when he needed her... needed someone.

"That cannot be all," A strange echo in the voice of the older woman, a
questioning of self before her resolve solidifies once more.  "Look at him,
Akane! That cannot be ALL that is bothering him.  He is sick," Tighter, her
hands twine into the silk of the upper layer of her kimono.

 "He misses him, Saotome-san," But a whisper, heard clearly though.  Kuonji
speaks, her eyes fixated upon her once love.  Her still love, despite her
own inward struggle.  Hands gently resting on her lap, across a gleaming
plate of metal with a 4 foot long handle...  the shine of the edge waiting
for an unwanted guest.

 Nodoka takes a moment out of time as everything pauses.  "That would not
cause this, not in my Son.  He is strong," Disbelief, her fingers extending,
her arm reaching out to the figure on the bed as she steps closer.  Warm
fingers meet cold forehead, wet from a fever.  The reaction is electricity,
causing her hand to quickly retract from the disquieting sensation the
meeting instilled.

 "Are you so sure, Auntie?  How can you be sure.  Even I can't be sure, not
anymore," When had it been last, when her eyes were dry? It seemed something
of a dream.  It passed her thoughts, for but a moment, that perhaps Ranma
was sleeping.  She felt a pang of jealousy.

 Fingers, like silent dancers.  Delicate tips brushing and skating along the
smooth, pale surface of Ranma's cheek.  *I wish I could sleep.  I wish I
could just... let go.  Fall.* As inevitable as day, it dawned upon Akane
that the prone, frail shell upon the bed was not only sleeping, it was
leaving them all behind.

 At the revelation, her eyes clench shut.  She will not entertain the
thought that, with but a fleeting breath, the man she loves could be gone...
snuffed like a frail flame dancing upon a thin wick.

 "Akane Dear, I realize how tenuous your emotions have been lately due to my
Son's attitude since... the events of the prom," A silent moment, the elder
woman biting her lip, perhaps unsure how to best tread upon dangerous
waters.  Hands locked together, one thumb rubbing across the top of the
other as she summons forth the will to continue.  "Regardless of this, Dear,
Ranma's stamina as a martial artist keeps him in very good health.  I...
cannot believe that he would be this ill simply from-"

 A soft whisper, cutting her words in two.  Murmured from pale, unconscious
lips, "Hiroshi," A gasp for air, a tired, strenuous sound from the prone man
upon the bed.  Fists, clenching upon the sheets.

 All is quiet, still.  For but a brief span, none dare to breath, hoping for
hope.  No further salvation is given from the once again silent figure.

 "How can you not believe it, Saotome-San? Is it not obvious? Is it not
plain that- that he wants him.  Needs him," There is struggle in her voice,
in her eyes as her hands caress the reflection of her young face staring
back at her from the polished spatula across her lap.  She had never quite
dealt with the idea that Ranma preferred Akane, she wasn't sure if she could
ever accept the idea that he preferred yet another person over herself.

 Nodoka's delicate fingers trace her own cheek, a shiver traversing her
spine as she brushes a stray lock of crimson hair behind one ear.

 She straightens, doing best to cover her own fear for her child.  Iron
will, unbendable.  "I cannot accept that, Kuonji-san.   I cannot believe
that my son would be so adversely affected due to his absence," soft, for a
moment.  Her face growing distant, a faint mist in her eyes as she
entertains the briefest notion that she might be wronging her little one in
some unforgivable way.

 Her eyes return to the figure on the bed.  "He chose to leave... Ranma
knows that.  You both know that.  Even though I do not accept that love,
that remains the truth.  Immutable, unchangeable."

 Abrupt she rises, like an angel of fierce conviction, "Don't you see,
Auntie Saotome!? If it wasn't for you, if it wasn't for Hiroshi being afraid
of ruining Ranma's life, of dishonoring him in front of you, he would still
be here! And Ranma would still be okay!" Akane's words boil forth, weeks of
frustration emerging forth once more in protection of the one man who had
forever captured her heart.

 Cool, with a noticeable air of sadness.  Nodoka steps forwards to the
younger girl, looking down at her with a very motherly expression.  "Akane,
don't you realize that I never factored into his plans? Hiroshi left because
of you.  Why not look at home before throwing stones at others.  Hiroshi was
your friend, as well as Ranma's.  You were the one that drove him away, and
you are the one to blame for this if you truly believe that this is being
caused by Hiroshi's departure-"

 A sharp crack, flesh meeting flesh, a hand meeting the Matrons cheek.
Tears tracing down soft, young cheeks.  "I  Hate you."  Akane trembles as
she speaks, eyes downcast, bangs shadowing her face as her fists clench.

 The two onlookers flinch.  Soft words, spoken harsh.  Nodoka's eyes
widening at the words.

 "I hate you," Reaffirmation, louder, clearer as she runs past Nodoka, out
of the room.  Choked sobs following her wake.  A gentle, cold wind...
stirring the curtains.  From whence, none knew.

 Itching and Burning, saline stinging them.  It has been a long time since
Nodoka felt such a sensation, 17 years too long.  'Kami-sama," Her voice
hoarse, rasping.

 Complexion pale from shock, lips tight to keep her words in check, Ukyou
watches the Tendou Matron's reaction.  She feels her hand gripped on the
handle of her spatula.  *Too tight...* She forcibly relaxes it.

 Jaw open in astonishment, dancing up and down for the brief moments after
her sister's departure, Kasumi finds her hand drifting up to cover her
gaping maw.  "Aunt Nodoka, Are- Are you alright?" Like mice, are her words.

 Hands searching.  Eyes watering.  Knees buckling.  Nodoka takes a seat on
the bed, finding herself looking at her son.  His eyes closed, almost as if
he might be sleeping.  She felt accusation burning into her from those
closed eyes, searing her soul.  "It- It is not my fault.  I- I have to
protect our family.  Our Honor, can't she see that?"

Wavering, tense and uncertain, Kasumi's voice chimes.  "I am sure that she
can see that, Auntie, it is just-" her words cleaved in two by the other
young woman in the room, anger and fear in Ukyou's voice.

 "Saotome-san, can't you see how much this is hurting Akane? All she wants
is for things to go back to how they were, just like you.  They can't!
Everything changes, everything ALWAYS changes," yearning, sorrow in her
words.  She stands, her hands wrapped tightly around the hilt of her weapon,
wishing that it could provide her protection against the deepest scars.

 Head bowed, turmoil in her thoughts as she compares the words of the Kuonji
girl with her inner voice.  *All I ever wanted was my son back.  How could I
have been so foolish, to let Genma take... everything from me?*

 "Why must it be about honor, Saotome-san? What is so very important that
you would risk your happiness, Ranma's happiness?" Just a whisper, rasping
and sore.  Her words bleeding with a need for understanding, seeking what
she could not find herself in the madness that was Ranma's life... that had
become her life, since the day that she was left behind.

 She leans on her spatula, unsure of her own footing.  She had slept
precious little since discovering what had transpired in her absence.  Her
gaze hungry upon Nodoka, needing to know what would be worth all of the
suffering.

 A moment.  Brief, stretched out.  The older woman's shoulders heave,
shaking with her body.  Moist eyes look up, anger and frustration in them.
"Why must you all question me?  It is all I have! It is all I have ever had,
my honor! All I have ever had to anticipate, to wait for, to dream for, that
my son honor our family heritage... that he become more than just what his
father is.  I am no monster!"

 Burning, her voice rises, her eyes searing with an angry distress, "I am
not a monster!" her body shaking with her conviction, the steel edge of them
cutting into the two girls, rewarding their speaker with a deft flinch from
both.

 For an enduring moment, awkwardness prevails with its flailing,
uncomfortable silence.  Pain in her eyes, Nodoka turns, resting them back
upon the sleeping figure.  Her two companions giving worried, furtive
glances which shift from between them, and upon the elder woman.

 Heaving a sigh, Kasumi lowers her eyes.  Her hands slack in her lap as her
head moves from side to side.  She half wonders why life is such a broken
toy, before she sheds the thought.  Madness lies there.  "I- I must go and
prepare dinner for Father and the rest."

 She rises, her knees unsure and weak.  In her nigh-habitual motion,
flattening her apron across her skirt, a sidelong glance at Ukyou
communicating her silent voiced opinion.

 A nod in reception.  Long, it seems, Ukyou stares at the Matron.  "I can't
lose him, Saotome-san," The words are raw, stripped.  She swallows, her
throat dry as she moves to the door.

 Silently, the elder woman agrees.  The two young girls leave.  The sound of
crying, muffled by the chest of a troubled sleeper remains in their wake.

*  *  *  *  *  *

 Impact.  Clouds of dust screaming from the ground.  Dull gray, it stains
her Kimono. Lungs burning, she coughs, expelling the tortured pain from her
breast.

 Suffocating, life being shucked from her shell; clawing, grasping,
desperate hands fighting to hold onto it's smoky, ephemeral substance.

 Screaming in rage, she had torn it from the grasp of the cold slickness
that wanted to eat her alive with its gnashing, jagged teeth of ice.  Then
she was falling again.

 Slowly, she rises to a sitting position, looking around as she coughs.
Dark.  Cold.  Wet.  One hand rises, aligning with her face she stares.
Pale, ivory light from above casting epiphany upon her; she is in mud.  It
is raining.

 A struggle.  Rising once more, she stands, head swimming in all directions
before reality fractures and shatters.

 Rain, pelting down upon her, a dark path winding up a steep hill.  Sleep
beckons, her soul weary from its sojourn and triumph over the hungry cold.

 Explosion, thunder severing the quiet rhythm of the rain.  It is
accompanied by a rhythm of another sort, ushering her to turn and look .

 Eyes widen, instincts triggering as she leaps to the side, a large black
horse flashing through where she had been but a moment before.  Fading, like
the wind, the rider soars towards a towering palace in the distance.

 Waves crash upon the Cliffside, wherein the palace sits overlooking the
ocean.  The water shining in the glistening moonlight, three spires seeming
to point to the ivory orb floating in the heavens.

 A thundering noise, she spins, looking up at the rise of a hill opposite
the seaside palace.  The ridge seems to be pulsing with the reverberations
of what sounds like low pounding.  Just moments, no more, and it grows to
encompass the entire ridge.

 Horror, terror, panic plunges through her veins as her head explodes with
realization, the ridge suddenly seeming to glow.  Fire.  Fires, thousands of
torches glimmering on the crest.  Foreboding, as something inside of her
whispers at the familiarity of it.  Somehow.

 A sliver of time as she sees a shadow, shifting in the corner of her eye,
and in but a brief slice of a moment, she finds herself clasping her hands
tightly around an armored figure, cloak black with a cascade of brilliant
sky blue in the form of a starburst.  Three white-gold bars of rank on the
shoulder of the mysterious figure.

 "You are a foolish woman, Voice of Aeden or not!" There is frustration of
the sharp and prickly sort in the woman's voice as she reigns in her white
stallion, throwing a narrowed glance at the gleaming fires upon the ridgetop
before turning and digging her heals into the horses sides.  "HYAH!" and the
horse dives into action, galloping at a feverish pace towards the palace in
the distance.

The world blurs, the rain causing everything to melt into a mass of
multitudinous shades of gray.
A glance backwards, at the crest of the hill, the fires echoing the
foreboding feeling which pulls at her soul.

 Then forwards, taking in the guise of the strange rider who had spirited
her away from where she had but moments before stood.  Raven hair bound back
in a tail with a deep blue sash, prepared for battle in complete armor, a
sword dangling at her hip.  Her appearance was not at all odd, other than
her clothing, though much could not be said as her face was pointed firmly
in the direction of the imposing palace.

 It almost shines like a pearl, glistening from the moons bathing rays.
Ranma's own eyes widen as they approached the massive structure.  It's
spiraling towers thrust upwards, ever upwards, as if to pierce the very
heavens.  It looms both ominous and beautiful.

 Small huts and residences begin to whisk by in the torrential rain.  The
clouds moved south, towards the crested hill teeming with fire.

 "It is bad that they have the cover of night, and worse that they would
attack in the rain.  I doubt they will wait till morning," The woman's voice
is cream and silk, assisted in part by carefully hidden steel that was ready
to unsheathe at any moment.

 "Wh- Who?" Ranma's arms tighten around the waist of her strange companion.
Confusing images and colors danced across her eyes, flashing images of
another place, another time.  Her heart was pounding, she does not like it
so loud.

 Lemons and vinegar in the raven-haired girl's laugh, turning and staring
intently into Ranma's eyes with her own violet gaze, her eyes a dancing,
fiery purple.  "The Akuma and his army, you must have surely hurt yourself
in the fall this morning if you do not remember."

 "Akuma..." The word leaves the tip of her tongue as her insides seemed to
turn to ice, mirroring a suddenly clammy, cold, oily feeling throughout her
being.

 A half remembered discussion, vague and misty, but it was about Makai and
the hierarchy of demons who held residence there.  The Onii; who resided as
the lower class and characteristically were the servants and brute strength
of Makai.  The Youma, who were the commoners largely consisting of mid level
demons, merchants, the cunning survivors and quick learns.

 Then there was the Akuma, lords and noble blood of Makai.  The most
dangerous and most feared, those who had been alive since the darkness had
tainted that world.  Those who would live on into eternity, death unable to
claim their polluted souls.

 A stretch of lightning suddenly casts fire white illumination across the
cloud-darkened landscape, dancing upon the tip of the single, tallest spire
in the looming palace.  A conduit between heaven and earth.

 Vague, dirtied faces flash by her vision.  Concern, curiosity,
contemplation, callous contempt.  In each set of eyes, there was ambiguous
recognition of her.  Her mind flits about, wondering why so many seem to
know of her.  Who is she supposed to be?

 Quickly, faces flash by, vanishing as the stranger prods the horse on to
the palace.  The Pace is feverish, the beasts eyes wide, nostrils flaring.

 "You almost scared me to death, vanishing like that.  What was I to say to
Aerinn, his bride having just vanished with no word!?" Anger, fury, concern
shift quickly through the voice of the strange, armored woman.  Tears, held
on the brink, translated through her carefully controlled vocal
gesticulations.

 Flashes, almost shadows of memories.  A young girl, laughing, playing
beside her in a meadow.  Down by the temple.  Were these hers?  "I- I
don't-"

 "Do not! Just do not, Myrian!" Sharp as a razor, her words cut.  The horse
suddenly rises, whinnying in a dowl, deathly manner.

 A blinking moment, finding an arm wrapped around her petite waist as she
and the armored woman sail through the air.  The world spinning as the
stranger flips and lands delicately on the ground as the horse collapses at
the foot of the palace gates.

 The armored woman held Ranma delicately in her arms, with a care and
caution that whispers of many familiar years between them; One cradling her
legs, the other draped across her back.  Her feminine build belies her
obvious strength.

 Brief, like wind.  Smoothly, the strange woman lets the slight redhead
drift to the ground.  Arms encircling protectively.

 Reaching out, Ranma's hand drifts towards the fallen animal.  Sorrow seems
to swell in her at the beasts dying, final shudder.  Moist eyes befoul her.

 A gloved hand clasps her outstretched wrist, pulling her away from the
wretched beast.  "It is dead, Myr.  We don't have time to stop and mourn
horses now, my god Myr, don't you realize what is going on!?"

 Shaking, trembling, shivering.  Who is Myr? Myrian? Was she Myrian?  No.
She bobs her head to and fro.  "I- I don't know what's going on!"

 The woman returns her gaze, looking at her with eyes full of fear.   She
brings a hand up hesitantly, stroking the soft flesh of Ranma's cheek.
"Myr... they're coming to kill you.  Dhim and his damn army," She spits the
last, a cursed name, snatching her half forgotten hand back from Ranma's
cheek.

 "I- I don't-" Pain, throbbing in her skull.  The color of words, the flavor
of images, the scent of touch.  "Rhiannon-?" The imbibed name is half
shadow, with the  consistency of mist within her mind.  However... there is
something familiar...

 A half-smile flits across the woman's face, a twinge of worry in her
expression.  "You're having another one again, aren't you Myr?"  She looks
into Ranma's eyes for some sign of recognition.  Within those dark blue orbs
she delves, searching for a familiar shard of spirit within that dreamlike
gaze bestowed upon her by the slight redhead in her embrace.

 Then, a sad nod as she recognizes an unfamiliar light in Ranma's eyes.

 Ranma knows not where the name arose from, writhing, tearing from the
forgotten depths of her soul, perhaps from the soul of the girl she now
inhabits.  "I- I'm sorry.  I am a stranger here.' Elsewhere, mere moments
before.  A darkness, swallowing her whole, devouring her soul...

 Closer, Ranma clings unto the strange woman cradling her.  Immense cold
seeping into the pores of her body, the marrow of her bones.  "C- c -cold,"
she mouths inaudibly.

 A brief mask of realization, quickly submerged in resolution flits across
Rhiannon's face.  "Do not worry, Myr.  The darkness cannot find you so long
as I survive."

Darkness reinvents the image of a vast gaping nothing, set to devour Ranma's
soul.  Such an image draws a soft whimper from the huddled form in
Rhiannon's arms.

Clicking.  A pair of boots, resounding against the pavement.

Rhiannon turns towards the approaching man.  His uniform is carefully
cultivated and unsmudged, as are his features.  His eyes gaze off as toward
some distant horizon, though the feel of him says he is quite aware of
everything around him.
"Lady Rhiannon, your presence is requested by the-" His words pause,
haltingly, from their fluid movement.  His jaw snaps shut a moment as he
takes note of the silent figure in Rhiannon's arms, who is likewise sizing
him up.

A snuffle, or harrumph, is voiced beneath his breath.  "I see that you have
found The Mistress Voice.  That will annul one particular reason for your
summons, but it is urgent that you both return to the Circle."

Such as a column of fire springs forth from nothing, her words spill
outwards, "My name is Myrian!" Her conviction stuns both the uniformed
gentleman, as well as herself.  Moreso by the fact that the name is
intermingled with memories of another life, which seems so close and yet
distant.

Comforting arms tighten around her waist, the woman Rhiannon's response to
her outcry.  "Aduin, your candor is most respectable, know that her Voice is
not angry with you."

Smoothly, methodically he caresses the jet black handlebar mustache which
compliments his tight features, "As well she should not be! Voice would do
well to note that I am, at all times, at her service.  Sworn to her
protection, as my father and his father before him, down the line of-"

Cut, a firm tone interrupting Aduin's proclamations, "Aduin, while a history
lesson might seem all well and good to you, her Lady's Swordmistress might
REMIND you that we are on the verge of wholesale slaughter!"

A slice of time, as the man's face takes on a shade of red.  He bows in a
hasty, stifling manner.  The motion creates the image of a marionette in
Ranma's mind.  "Her will be done, by the Swordmistress' bidding.  Follow,
follow, all day is but wasted in moments."

He turns, as practiced and precise as before, marching towards the gates
with a purposefulness.

There is a strange emptiness permeating Ranma's soul.  "Why do they call me
the Voice or Mistress Voice, Rhiannon?"

A sad smile is proffered, as the taller woman's hand caresses the silken
tresses of the petite redhead.  "Duty, Myr."

 Softly, she prompts Ranma to move onward with her, following Aduin's lead.
"Miserable duty... and destiny."

*  *  *  *  *  *

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