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I am Become...

 Disclaimer:  As always the paints are the property of Takahashi Rumiko,
Viz video, and this time, also Nobuhiro Watsuki, who owns Ruroni
Kenshin. The easel is mine, but that is all.


 Dreams are odd things.

 Deflect, reverse swing. A quiet grunt, and the sickeningly sweet sound
of flesh parting, blood spattering on the ground and staining it.

 They can take us to the past.

 Another deflection, faster this time, and the sharp ringing noise of
steel-upon-steel sounds. One sword finds its way beneath the other's
guard, and there is another grunt and blood spatter.

 And sometimes, the future.

 More attacks, these clumsy and uncoordinated. Easily inside their
guard, then a thrust. A slash. Another simple strike. Killing blows,
each of them, and these attackers join their fallen comrades. Louder
this time. Not trained warriors, anymore. Only those new to battle
actually scream. Or the fearful. The weak. Those who have no place in
battle.

 But most often, a dream is just that.

 ***

 [Wanderer. The past.]

 A chirp. A bird, of some kind. Possibly a sparrow, though it could have
been something else.

 He sat up slowly, running a hand through his bedraggled red hair and
thinking. How much longer could he stay? Stave off what he thought was
inevitable? The dreams came with more and more intensity, and it was
constantly getting harder to hold off the effects...

 But what could he do? He lowered his hand, holding it before his face
and studying it as it trembled. Was there perhaps, an inevitability to
his trade? Was it that once he had become an assassin, something of the
essence of assassin became him, as well?

 He had thought it all behind him, and spent years apart from his
one-time trade...

 For naught.

 The trembling of his hand increased, almost a spasm, this time. He knew
what would stop it easily enough. The sword. His hand longed to hold
it... not the sword he used, the reversed edge totally inappropriate for
killing...

 A real sword again. It's keen edge tearing through flesh, muscle, and
bone with equal fervor, parting the living and transforming years of
building, growth, teaching... taking whole decades of life and undoing
them in a hasty motion.

 There was, he knew, a sublime... depth? No... but there was a
perfection of unity, of morbid fascination and knowledge that he _was_
power, he _was_ the reaper and he had the ultimate ability to undo what
had taken an entire life to accomplish... and rend it into nothing.

 And a part of him reveled in it, glorying in the power that he knew he
was a part of him, a part of his life...

 But so much of him, oh so much of him loathed it, hating to the very
core of his being what he had become, and how little he could be because
of what he had been.

 Burying his face in his hands, he weighed his decisions.

 ***

 [Watched. The present.]

 He was awake again. He was a killer. A cold-blooded killer, and he knew
it. Knew what he was, and would be again, if he wasn't careful.

 But the sweet, glorious rush of power, the cold dispassionate strength,
the driving, heady intoxication of power. Cold enough to destroy his
foe.

 But he wasn't ready to be a killer. He knew how he felt. He knew now,
at least.

 He could lie, but he couldn't fool himself, and he doubted that he
could fool her. She probably saw through him.

 Saw what he was. A murderer, who didn't deserve what she offered. And
she offered it anyway. Could she understand how corrupt he was?

 The ceiling stared back at him, returning his impassive, wooden gaze.

 ***

 [Fury. The present.]

 "Baka!"

 Strike, strike, strike. Three simple blows, repeated in quick
succession.

 "Baka!"

 How long had it been since she had trained, earnestly?

 "Baka!"

 And the fool maintained that he didn't love her -- Didn't love her! --
when everyone _knew_ what he had done for her. How could he have done it
for her if he didn't love her!?

 "Baka!"

 She saw how much it tore him up inside remembering what he had been
forced to do for him. Why wouldn't she let him in?

 "Baka!"

 And then, who was the idiot anyway?

 "Baka!"

 Strike, strike... and the third blow, falling short of the practice
dummy as she slumped forward, sobbing.

 "Baka..."

 So close, so wondrously close.... and the dreams... the memories... but
had he... did he... was there a purpose?

 ***

 [Wicked. The past.]

 He stared at the home where his friend habitually stayed,
contemplating. His own home was in a place called 'Ruffian Row.'

 The name was appropriate. But his friend now, that was a different
problem.

 There was a river to struggle through, he had learned. A river of
blood. And when one entered battle, one entered this river.

 It was not possible to emerge unstained.

 Was his friend then, drowning in this river, to never rise again? The
tide and the power of its flow could wash away even the strong.

 His friend was strong, he knew, but... strong enough? Was the tide
greater than his friend?

 And what could he do? His friends were no more help then he himself was
to his friend. He had merely stepped into the river, not forged boldly
to the center, as his friend had, and could not offer his friend the
help he needed.

 And the other friends were no more help, even the annoying child... who
was not as much of an annoying child, perhaps, as he might had insisted.
But then, they had merely dabbled their toes in at the edge of this
great river, warned away by his friend, standing in the depths, and
fighting the current.

 Diseases of the body could be fought with medicines, but what could
combat the diseases of the mind? He knew only that he lacked the power
to help his friend, and he felt himself lose a piece every time a piece
of his friend slipped.

 It was time then, to have a few drinks too many, and visit the lady
doctor, and perhaps, for an evening at least, be oblivious to the
problems of the world that he could not fix.

 With that thought in mind, he began walking, and quit the empty street.

 ***

 [Girl. The past.]

 She could not understand his behavior. He had slowly drawn into
himself, being... _him_ less and less.

 It was worrisome, and he would only talk about it with his friends,
occasionally over drinks, though he himself only ever sipped at them,
now. He had never been overly fond of drinking anyway. Had he? He hadn't
when she knew him.

 There was a growing distance between them. She wanted to reach out to
him, to help, but knew that she simply couldn't understand the things
that compelled him.

 Too much was just unknown. He stayed with her, shared her home, and she
had begun to hope more than that -- perhaps a room, even a bed... She
glanced at her own bed forlornly, empty at the present, but then there
was only her to fill it...

 Distances between the two widened, as she saw the growing fear of...
himself? Fear of himself for her, maybe?

 It was the kind of thing he would do. He had taken to leaving his sword
in his room unless he was going out. He could not have thought that he'd
never need the sword again, and the edge was reversed. He
couldn't/wouldn't kill with it.

 Could/would he?

 ***

 [Lover. The present.]

 Her lover did not love her. He seemed to nearly resent her at times,
but it was not in his nature to be angry with anyone for long. He was
forgiving, perhaps too much so.

 But she knew that he still resented her actions, if not herself. She
knew that as much as she wished otherwise, he would not be hers -- not
now.

 And it hurt. But she loved him too much to want anything except his
happiness.

 A call from the main room, and a mindless smile, serve another bowl of
ramen, and back behind the counter again.

 The... other... man in her life mopped the floor, muttering to himself
in low tones, while she considered.

 And what to do about that?

 Laws were laws, after all. She had her duty, and her heart.

 Which one had more weight on her decision?

 A mumble from her great-grandmother, and another bowl of soup along
with some appetizers.

 Perhaps it wasn't really her decision.

 ***

 ['Friend?'. The present.]

 Choices.

 She'd had them, she'd taken them, and she'd begun to suspect she'd made
them wrong.

 Looking at her waitress, she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt.

 What did he feel for her, that she ignored... was she then, continuing
a cycle? She knew that she hurt her waitress with her actions. And she
knew that she hurt her childhood friend, as well.

 And she was going to lose him. Them?

 It could be. She was nearly on the verge of losing him. He wouldn't
fault her. He had told her that he didn't truly mind -- he wasn't ready
for it to happen yet anyway.

 Amazing how one word could drive into her heart like a hot spike,
screaming the truth louder than any confession of love ever could have.

 "Yet," he had said. He probably hadn't even realized it.

 It told her the truth at least. Maybe it was intentional, and he hadn't
even known it.

 There was a way to remove herself from the cycle of hurting those she
cared for.

 Somewhere.

 ***

 [It might be anger between friends. The present.]

 "H... hello."

 A long silence.

 "Um... I understand if... if you don't want to forgive me, but-"

 "No, I understand."

 Another moment of silence before: "Y... You do?"

 "I do. I... I'm not happy. But mistakes happen."

 "It won't happen next time, I _swear_. I am so... I'm so sorry..."

 "It's okay."

 ***

 [This is goodbye? The past.]

 No more.

 It wasn't safe anymore.

 "You're leaving."

 Not a question. He couldn't even be certain who was speaking anymore,
his control was eroded. Was it... her... or simply Sannosuke? Maybe even
the enemy soldier he thought he saw.

 But he wasn't that far gone yet. He would not respond, not attack, not
fight, not kill, not... give in. He would not give in.

 "I have to."

 Nothing was said for a time, simply two people, unsure of who the other
truly was, and watching the sakura petals drift by slowly.

 "It's beautiful here, isn't it?"

 It was, too. More for the people who made the house 'home' than
anything else, but it was. "Yes."

 And who was he talking to, really? The face of another nameless enemy
flashed before him, obscuring the truth, and he fought the urge to grab
his sword. "I love you."

 It was true. It didn't matter who it was at this point, He meant it for
everyone. All of them were a part of his life, had helped him... not
enough, but he couldn't fault them. It was his fault that everything
that was going wrong... had.

 "I should be going, though."

 "I hope to meet you again."

 That was the impetus he needed. He couldn't stay. Staying meant hurting
those he loved. No more words after that. He simply turned his feet away
and began walking. If there was a cure to his madness, he would find it,
and return to himself.

 He would be going as far away as possible, leaving Japan entirely. To
better keep them from being at risk.

 ***

 [Girl. The past.]

 And that was that.

 It hurt.

She had it coming to her, she supposed. She should have known better,
but her heart was not the kind to listen to her about that.

 Would he come back? That was what mattered.

 She feared he wouldn't, and just as much that he would. What if when he
came back, he had changed? And it wasn't for the better? Or worse, what
if she had?

 ***

 [Watched. The present.]

 They were all around, in some form. Nearer than other days perhaps, and
less great than they had been before...

 But there was something that he thought was a danger to her, and he
followed her like a hawk.

 His friends? He trusted them not to hurt her. Now, at least. Everyone
had been a little crazy, then... pushed too far in ways that they were
not at all sure they wanted to go.

 He was actually thankful for the distractions that had happened when
they had. Angry that they would try and hurt her, yes. But she wasn't
hurt, and he had taken it as a blessing. Until he could beat the monster
that he knew he was becoming, he couldn't move any closer.

 Control. Control was the answer. Practice. He hid and walked in her
shadow, mere feet behind her, and her unknowing of his presence.

 He would protect her. From everything he could.

 Even himself, since he knew he was the greatest danger.

 But all weapons are dangerous, and he was a weapon, now. Defeating the
god-king had proven that. The nauseating thrill of power, the surge of
confidence in knowing that _he_ could, and had, KILLED a god...

 He knew all too well how thankful he was that the god-king had not
stayed dead, because if he had, the dizzying rush of power and the rage
of loss might have broken him.

 ***

 [The Ancient yin. Present.]

 She was old. She knew that.

 Yin was control. Perfection.

 And it was failing her.

 She needed to control her errant son-in-law, and the
great-granddaughter who was slowly straying... No longer chasing her
lover like she should.

 Son-in-law, however... he had to be controlled, and she was getting too
old to wait. There were monstrous pressures playing about the boy's
head, his mind was vulnerable.

 A few of the more complex and mistrusted artifacts of the Amazon
tribe's heritage could be used to... slowly... sway him.

 It was simply a matter of persuading him to come to China with her, and
that he could learn control there. To quell the raging beasts that
lurked within him.

 ***

 [Friends or Lovers? The present.]

 "Hello."

 "... Hello..."

 "I know we don't get along well... but I'm tired... I'm sorry. I'm
tired of burnt bridges. I want to reclaim what I can."

 "Don't understand..."

 "I... I want to be your friend. I don't want to fight anymore."

 "Oh."

 A long pause, before: "If... you don't want to be... I'll understand. I
just... you know. Ranchan..."

 A much longer pause. "Yes... Friends... is good. Would like to be your
friend, then."

 "I... I'm glad, then... thank you."

 ***

 [Wanderer. The past.]

 And was this where the answer was going to be found? He had rather
began to doubt it.

 China was a large place, full of mystery, magic, and more...

 But he had found only annoyance, filth, and no answers.

 One last place to check, though. There was a place of springs that was
said to be a superb training ground. Rumors indicated that there was
some sort of local war there...

 It would be risked. If the training ground could help him... it would
help him.

 No longer a choice. He had to find an answer, somewhere... A cure? And
he could return, go back... be with her again.

 ***

 [Warrior. The past.]

 Battles were brief and ugly for the most part. His tribe gloried in the
battle, though. Battles were meant to be won, and their foes loathed to
lose.

 Obvious as that was. But the beauty of the battle, and the spoils...

 Their enemies were honor bound to become brides, should they win!

 It was glorious.

 ***

 [Amazon. The past.]

 Their enemies were scum.

 And the cost of failure was horrific, but the cost of victory... was it
better?

 Then, if they did win, they could claim the defeated foes as
husbands... unlikely as it was that a single worthwhile husband could be
claimed from _that_ drooling and vacant lot.

 But the battle drew nigh, and then there would be a confrontation. The
springs, this time. A poor battleground, she thought, but it wasn't her
choice.

 And they wanted to control the springs as much as their foes did.

 ***

 [Dreamer. The present.]

 She woke up again from the same dream. It haunted her less and less
though, so she supposed that she was healing.

 It had been some years since the hurt was a raw aching wound -- of late
it was simply a dull remembrance, if it were a hurt at all.

 But the dream came back anyway. Less often now, but more near the
anniversary of the day...

 She sat up and climbed out of the bed swiftly, checking the calendar.

 Not close enough. Three more months. At that point, she could help. A
little.

 ***

 [Fury tempered. The present.]

 "Big sister?"

 "Mmmm?" Pot needed attention. Stirring, and a dash of spice... which
one? A hint of ginger for this would be good. "Yes, Akane? What do you
need?"

 "I'm worried."

 No need to say who about. That was obvious. And she was worried too,
just like her little sister. "Oh? Why's that?"

 "It's... Ranma."

 That, she had already known, and masked a slight frown of irritation,
instead giving a contemplating look, and adding another dash of ginger.
"I see. What are you worried about with him, in that case?"

 "He's... acting different."

 Easily understandable, though. That power was such a sweet, numbing
lure... "What do you think you should do about it, then?"

 A pause there. She had probably been expecting, 'How do you mean?' not
that. "Um," she began, collecting herself and her thoughts. "I... don't
know. I want to help him, but I'm not sure how."

 A dozen answers sprang to Kasumi's mind, most of them immediately
discarded as she stirred the slowly simmering pot before her. "Well,"
she said. "He's probably worried that he can't let anyone close to him.
Maybe you need to be strong enough to get through his walls and be close
to him."

 That nearly floored the youngest Tendo girl. An answer like that was
most... unusual... from her. But it was Kasumi. It had to have merit,
and there was a challenge buried in it, too. Had to be strong enough.
"Oh."

 ***

 [Ancient Yang. The present.]

 The boy. Heir? Disciple?

 Unruly. Uncontrolled. Powerful, though.

 Needed to be tempered, and the boy had eschewed all of _his_
teachings...

 But was that bad? The boy seemed much the better for it. Better than he
was, but not better than he could be. Not yet.

 It was a matter to consider.

 Ah, a target. Swipe, leap, bounce. Ground? Sky?

 More chasers on the ground. Chase. Love the chase. Ground, then.

 And what of the boy? Heir? Disciple?

 Wouldn't see himself that way, though. Not a problem. Was groomed
enough. He would temper the boy. Balance him in the way he had failed at
so badly. Give him little pushes in the right direction, and big pushes
in the wrong ones.

 He learned what was right from that.

 The Amazon could be a problem, though.

 Best keep an eye out.

 ***

 [Clash. The Warriors, the Amazons, and the Dreamer. The past.]

 No cure. No answer, at any rate. This place did not have what he needed
to learn control.

 Decent training ground, though. Poles on springs. He would have to kick
of his shoes before trying it, since he didn't want to fall in.

 A noise at the periphery of his hearing. Two bands approaching. He knew
battle well enough to recognize it.

 Was it real? Imagined? It was getting harder to tell. He fingered the
cross shaped scar on his cheek, nodding to himself.

 Stand, or leave? Not his battle. But they might want to involve him
anyway. Best draw the sword, then.

 Not to fight, purely to defend himself.

 The urge was there, the desire to kill, to tear flesh and unmake the
living, rending them lifeless... but he was stronger than that.

 Temptation was meant to be resisted. He would resist it. He would...
draw closer. He was strong, and would not kill.

 If it was needed, he would cut, but not kill.

 The strength was his, to use and not to use. Not a weapon, a sword was
a tool.

 The edge was lovely, shining under the light of the sun as the two
warring bands charged one another.

 He narrowed his eyes, drawing himself into a stance quickly. When had
he exchanged the reversed blade for the real one he held now? It would
be difficult...

 No killing, simple wounding. Disable, and not permanently, at that.

 Control was his.

 ***

 [Watched temper.]

 "Ranma."

 He looked up. How could he not be aware of her? But he had to pretend
he was only casually interested in her -- protect her from the monster
that fought him for control, to make him into a fiend that could
destroy. "Yeah?"

 "I'm worried about you."

 He couldn't help but sweat at that. Did she know? She did, she had to,
she knew, and was going to send him away, where he couldn't hurt--

 "I wish you would talk to me more. I don't like it when you're so
quiet."

 She... didn't know? "Oh." That changed things. But... talk more? About
what? He was busy being her shadow everywhere outside of the house. Had
she talked to someone inside about it, then? "What about?"

 "I... I don't know. But I'd like to talk to you. I'd like you to trust
me."

 Did she? Maybe there was an anchor, then. He would never hurt her...
would he?

 Control... control... he needed control.

 ***

 [Clash. The Children and the Reaper.]

 They were combatants, but they fought too kindly. Not warriors, though
they might call themselves that. War was a bloody art, and these
children only played at it.

 He would not kill. Not lash out. Not strike.

 They were not worth his time. He would not kill...

 But the craving the ever present and so much oh-kami oh-kami, oh...
Kami kami kami... Ida-Ten... keep me from doing this, it's wrong, I know
it, but I can't... I can't...

 Stop me! Stop me! Strike me down, like those who I have battled before
have begged me!

 Crimson slashes, carving twining paths through the air like swallows in
flight.

 It's so beautiful, seductive, I want... need... must have more...

 Must stop... must stop...

 Oh, Ida-Ten, stop me! Make this end, you who is swift and just, end me
here make my existence for not, I do not have the strength, I can't, if
I continue, he will die!!

 Scarlet lines, spraying across the earth to lie there and glisten,
blood slowly congealing. It was so rewarding, so fulfilling, it was
power, control.

 Can't! No more! Listen to me! Ida-ten!? Marashita, mercy and my
destruction!? They are scarcely more than children, STOP ME!!!

 Vermilion streamers, and the guttural, moist choking sound of someone
breathing his last with a punctured lung, and a severed jugular.
Instants to survive, at most.

 The sweet, sweet, or so dizzyingly glorious resistance of his blade
passing through flesh, parting it and laying bare the fighters to the
world, rending them asunder and leaving them to bleed their last upon
the thirsty soil.

 I am weak... I am weak...

 I cannot stop. Oh kami, Ida-ten, anyone... take me... take me away and
send me to the deepest hells, let me commit these atrocities no more!

 No answers... no answers here...

 A flash of cobalt blue light, laced with the taint of red and black
obscured his vision, then all was black.

 ***

 [Dreamer. The present.]

 Waking with a start.

 Again. She had forgotten about that aspect of the dream.

 She stumbled to the bathroom, thankful for the fact that she was
habitually the first to wake, and retched. She would fast for three
days.

 No one would notice, and it would help her, at least. Coping was
difficult. How long, to atone for all of them?

 Two more months from now, and she could go visit them again. They, at
least, were not her fault. But they had no more ancestors to remember
them, did they?

 Well, her, of course. And Ranma was having trouble, as well.

 She could help him, soon. Maybe more than before... events would have
to be monitored.

 ***

 [Watched. The present.]

 He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew it was bad. Everything
was too calm, trying to lull him into complacency, going to spring on
him suddenly.

 Moving his neck was hurting. He seemed to remember reading about that
being a stress related condition, once. Was he that badly stressed?

 Maybe he was. He wasn't sure.

 He watched her, though... her shadow. Open up to her, she had said.

 What could he tell her? That he was hiding in her shadow, following her
everywhere short of the lavatory? To make sure that nothing could harm
her?

 She would resent that, and get angry at him, and it would be his fault
for not respecting her enough...

 He needed control. She wanted to be with him, and she wanted him as a
man. Curse aside, that meant getting rid of himself as a monster.

 Now, who would provide an answer for that problem?

 ***

 [An Ordered Woman teaches the Watched to look for himself. The
present.]

 "I can teach you what you want to know." And she could. Would, too.

 "Oh?" Couldn't afford to sound too interested. She'd try and use him,
and he wouldn't have that. Couldn't afford it. Had to beat the monster
that he was becoming.

 "I know what you're going through -- being eaten away from the inside,
hmm? Want to know a way to control it, am I right?" Of course she was,
she knew every nuance of what made the boy tick. "You're afraid that
you're going to become a monster."

 "What makes you say that?" She knew!? Too close to home. Subtlety. Make
her think that she was close, but not dead one. "It's... yeah. Sure.
That's it."

 "I have my ways." Tricky... was the boy playing with her, or was she
wrong? Best play it safe, and snare him carefully. Slowly, as much as it
galled her.

 "Okay. So what are you going to do?" Had he fooled her? Maybe? With a
little bit of luck... too much, he depended on luck. More skill was
needed.

 "I have a few solutions. Here, take this, and keep it close to your
heart. It will bring you closer to... your human self." 'This' was a
pendant with a small red gemstone set in the center of a swirling mosaic
of silver.

 "And what else does it do?" He trusted her. A little. She had taught
him much. The Hiryu Shoten Ha, for one... But this much? Best to make
sure... she didn't think that she's lie to him openly.

 "Nothing. I wear one myself, you see. Perfectly harmless." And it was.
To her. Of course, the one she wore was different, it would let her know
how well it was working what it should be doing to him. "Beyond that...
it's up to you. You have to have the strength..."

 "Right. Fine. I'll take it." He did so, and hesitantly pocketed the
gem. He'd wear it when he was somewhere safe. Not quite here, though...
this was anything but safe. Then again... where was safe?

 "I expect that you'll start feeling better soon. If it doesn't work,
then perhaps you can come back to China with me when I return?" That
would help convince him., if nothing else did.

 She was leaving? That changed things. Maybe he could trust her... and
maybe it was a ploy. He'd have to find someone he could trust. Who?
"Yeah... See you around then, if you think that this'll really help..."

 ***

 [Ancient players in a young field, part one. The present.]

 "Great-granddaughter, I want you to wear this."

 "... Why?"

 Rebellion? Not expected... not good, either. "Just a gift, child. Don't
worry about it."

 No reason not to trust her. She was blood kin, after all. "Thank you,
great-grandmother. What is it?"

 "It's a bloodstone, with pure-heart silver, child. The legends say that
they draw lovers together... bug hide it from sight, and keep it's
destiny secret. Do you understand?"

 "Yes, great-grandmother. It's very beautiful."

 "Perfectly suited for a lovely child like yourself. Remember to never
remove it, do you understand, child?"

 "Yes, great-grandmother."

 ***

 [Warriors convene at the Wanderer. The Past.]

 "What do you want to do with him?" He does not understand their speech,
as he does not speak very much Mandarin, and it's thickly accented.

 "I say we recoup our losses, and dunk him."

 A pause.

 "It's not a bad idea.

 "Can we do that? Does that work, I mean?"

 "It should."

 "Hmm... breasts..."

 "We're agreed, then?"

 "Breasts. Yes."

 He opened his eyes too late, striking the water with a marginal splash,
and clawing his way to the surface, sputtering for breath.

 A rope wrapped around his neck, pulling him to shore, and then hands
wrapped around him, dragging him away from the water, while his eyes
drifted shut, still weak from the attack that had knocked him down.

 More hands tore at his shirt and pawed at him for a moment before his
clothing was mostly restored. To tired to speak, he tried to recover,
and listened to his captors.

 "He's got breasts now! It worked!"

 "You idiot. He's not a she anymore!"

 "Right, he's a girl. Isn't he?"

 "Yes, he is. Now, give me the ladle."

 ***

 [The Dreamer and the Wanderer. The past.]

 Who am I?

 Who are you?

 I don't know anymore.

 We are the same, but I am not you. We are what we are, and what we will
be.

 I cannot be a killer, not again. Can you stop me?

 Only you can do that. But I will help you.

 ***

 [A line must be drawn between friends and lovers... somewhere. The
present.]

 "You've been quiet the last few times we've visited, sugar. What's
wrong?"

 "Great... great-grandmother scares me."

 A moment of silence broken only by the muted sizzle of something on the
grill, before a soft voice: "Sorry, sugar... you want to talk about it?"

 "Sh... I need... a place to stay. A place to get away from her for a
while. She's scaring me, and... I've been confused since... I can't
remember... can you help me?"

 The pleading in her eyes was not something she could ignore. She was
aware in a peripheral sense of her waiter/waitress, watching with thinly
veiled curiosity. "I can help you. We're friends, right? And that's what
friends are for."

 "Thank you..." I think I like you. But I can't say that, because that's
not right.

 "Any time, sugar." Maybe we could be more than friends... you, at
least, understand me... but I could never say it. That's too much to
ask.

 ***

 [Ancient players in a young field, part two. The present.]

 "Hey! Old man, tell me what you know about this."

 There was a moment of quiet as the aged pervert inspected 'this', which
happened to be a small pendant, with a blood-red stone. "Nothing
special, Ranma m'boy... why do you ask?"

 "Nothing. Just checking it."

 ***

 [Ancient Yang. The present.]

 Heartstone... Now why on earth would the old woman want to give him
such a thing?

 He knew that the stone wouldn't affect the boy much beyond brining him
closer to his more base instincts, but that was something he needed help
with anyway.

 Wasn't it? The old woman would have to be planning something, it was
just a question of what. And what would the heartstone do, anyway?

 A chain of honor, to bind him to her great-granddaughter? That might be
it. He'd need to be watched and pushed closely, to keep that from
happening, in that case.

 There was no way he was willing to let the boy be caught by such means.
Or follow his own path, at this point. Too much potential to be wasted
there.

 ***

 [There is no line, unless you need it. The present.]

 "No, I don't mind... It's good to have friends, and friends have to
look after each other."

 "You is-- are a very good friend. Thank you."

 "Like I said, sugar, any time."

 And the unspoken words? The words that she couldn't say? What of them?
The aching, hidden words she longed to whisper...

 Closeness with her first love had been lost, lost to another girl. Hard
to resent him, when he forgave her so easily, but another love, and this
one so painfully close -- only half a futon and two shirts away. And
still so far out of reach.

 "Very warm..."

 An uncomfortable pause, at that. "Oh... um... should I open a window?"

 "N... no. Warm is nice." I like you. "I like it warm."

 "Me too..." I like your warmth.

 When and how had this begun, anyway?

 Would she ever forgive her if she found out?

 ***

 [Wanderer. The past.]

 Four weeks on the ground, limping away from the cursed training grounds
-- cursed in so many ways. She wasn't certain what had happened in the
mad blur that had consumed her after she came to her senses, strange men
groping her new body, but they severely underestimated her skill.

 She couldn't remember if she had killed them or not, but the sword had
been abandoned in favor of a simple wooden stick. It made a better
travel aid anyway, and the few ruffians that accosted her could still be
fended off with it.

 But what to do with this curse and lack of answers?

 Her teacher had suggested, long ago when she was still a he, and
training under her master....

 But he had said to her-then-him, "If you've got two problems, make them
into a solution with a little bit of ingenuity."

 The advice had been given on one of the rare occasions when he had
imbibed a little bit more than he could handle normally, but it was
still advice.

 How could her current situation help her?

 How did the curse help the madness?

 ***

 [Ancient Yin. The present.]

 The stone was warm. A good sign, that.

 It meant that the pendants she had given to her great-granddaughter and
son-in-law were saw their hearts growing close.

 She frowned, monitoring the subtle magic that told her of their
relative strength of affection.

 Her affection was much weaker than she would have expected, even as his
was much stronger.

 Had she gotten them mixed up, given son-in-law one, and her
great-granddaughter another? That must be the solution.

 But this was merely a monitor; it wouldn't make sure that their
affection was for each other. Son-in-law might have feelings for that
other girl... that could be a problem, but not one that she was willing
to admit to at the moment.

 For now, more pressure across the boy, to make him bend under her will
and agree to her methods. Until then, she could make sure that his
affection for her great-granddaughter only increased.

 China... soon she would be able to go home, victorious. Honor would be
satisfied, and she would be able to train her great-granddaughter and
her son-in-law to make sure that her ideals lived on beyond her.

 ***

 [Wanderer. The past.]

 Answers. There were answers here that she had overlooked.

 Women were not killers, so the monster couldn't touch her anymore.
Could it? Maybe it could? She wasn't certain, but the changes were
enough that she could stay away and be safe from it.

 From herself. No more need to run away, it was a second chance, and a
freedom from...

 The blade was cast away, but would its single smiling edge return to
her? Haunt her? She thought she was safe.

 And a new life to be begun... how?

 ***

 [Dreamer. The past.]

 She stood at the peak of Tanzewa-san, a respectable mountain, and
looked.

 Beneath her, spread beneath the canopy of the heavens, was the world.

 A hand reached out, seemingly of its own volition, as though she was
reaching for that distant point. Her keen eyesight was able to make out
that smudge that would be some seventy kilometers and more distant, and
the faint smoke rising from the buildings within.

 Tokyo, once Edo.

 Her... friends, her... love, if not lover... they awaited her there.
Could she return?

 She doubted it. Returning would not be an option, since it would be
running from the bad, and taking back only the good. It was an
all-or-nothing proposal.

 Nothing. She would find a home in an outlying village, an area that she
could live in and atone... so much to atone for...

 She turned away, and stared at the setting sun. Climbing would be
hazardous in the dark, but she had done much more dangerous things
before. It would be manageable.

 ***

 [Watching Dreams that can scarcely be remembered... The present.]

 Temple? No, today was a good day. It wasn't _the_ day, but she was
seldom in a mood to leave her room on that day, and it was... a hard day
to have to remember. She would deal with that day when it came, and in
the meantime, she would take him to the graveyard to remember her
friends, and maybe talk.

 Akane wasn't helping him enough, and he was going to lose his struggle.
She wouldn't have that, not after what it had done to her.

 "Ranma?"

 He looked up, engrossed in a cheap manga, confused at the call. "Yeah,
Kasumi?"

 "I'm going to the graves today. Would you please accompany me?"

 He balked at that momentarily, a wild and fearful light burning in his
eyes before he managed a nod, almost a spastic jerk. "Yeah, sure."

 "Come along, then."

 No, she would not let him lose that battle, having known the cost of
failure too closely herself.

 ***

 [Wandering through time. The past.]

 She hated the Thought. It was nearly constant, as she picked her way
through the bomb-shattered buildings, one eye always looking for signs
of life in the ruins.

 But the Thought would not leave her.

 She knew the answer it its question, but she didn't like it.

 Changing directions, she tried to think of something else.

 In a sense, this war was a blessing, because it would let her rebuild
her life without people noting her problems. Adapting to life as a woman
was a difficulty, but possible. Her body did not age, but the books she
had read in the time she had lived explained much of why the monthly
bleeding had stopped. Some aspects of her unwanted semi-immortality were
finite, and the capacity to bear children was one of them.

 She had to wonder at that. It had been long enough, hadn't it? She was
never planning on having children, she was... well, she was a woman, but
she had not always been so. And she was going to maintain that aspect,
at least.

 She frowned, unhappy at the way her mind was wandering, and returned
her thoughts to their proper course. The war was a blessing, but she had
to curse herself for thinking of it that way when so many had died, and
so many more would continue to die.

 Using it as cover, she could hide her curse, for a while. Until she
could find a way to hide it better.

 And the Thought returned, unbidden.

 Was this the world that she had fought for? Was it worth it, all that
killing? For this?

 ***

 [Dreams for the future. The past.]

 "Tendo-san... I have a proposal for you and your wife."

 The young martial artist exchanged a worried glance with his wife, as
she held a cloth to her mouth and coughed. He helped his wife to a seat,
and trying to pretend that the bloodstains on the handkerchief weren't
there.

 He was afraid of this woman, who had not been seen to age in the entire
time she had lived in the neighborhood. Scared in a different sense from
the way that he was worried for his wife's health.

 But she was friendly, with a warm smile, and well-kept manner. Her hair
was neatly combed back, not a strand out of place, and her elegant
kimono just... seemed to work, even though it wasn't the fashion of the
time.

 The martial artist nodded, worried for his ailing wife again. They
could not afford a doctor, and their shambles of a home was not adequate
for raising a family. They were young, though, and the man had no skills
aside from his martial arts.

 And she had her own problems.

 Take two problems, and make a solution with them.

 He reached a hand towards a teacup, but set it down when the trembling
became apparent, not wanting to display his fear. "Yes? What do you
want?" He frowned, dismayed at the fear that should not have been
evident in his voice.

 The woman's smile increased slightly. "I need a family," she stated. "I
have money, and I need a family, and a home."

 The martial artist blinked, not understanding, and clutched his wife's
hand tightly. "What do you mean?"

 "I can help you. I have money. You need a real home, and a doctor. Can
we reach an agreement, then?"

 He narrowed his eyes, nodding slowly and worrying. "I... You want to
help us?"

 The woman nodded. "Very much so. Here is what I propose..."

 ***

 [Watching old Dreams lain to rest. The present.]

 A ladle, for one. That was important. Ceremony.

 She dipped the ladle into a bucket, and carefully washed the tombstone
off.

 The child stood to one side, wondering at his role in these events.
"Um... Kasumi?"

 The question. She wouldn't have brought him here if she wasn't
expecting it. "Yes, Ranma?"

 His eyes were locked onto the ladle, bearing its load of water to
cleanse the burial marker again. "Who was this person?"

 Kasumi answered without pausing her ceremonial cleansing of the stone,
"Kamiya Kaoru." She was aware of Ranma's eyes boring into her, even as
she finished cleaning, and prepared an offering. "She was a friend," she
commented, igniting some incense. "But that's not important, right now."

 His mouth opened slowly, his eyes moving back to the stone to trace the
dates. "You... 1862... how... she... but?"

 She smiled softly, staring at the stone still. "A good friend," she
whispered. "We don't speak very often, Ranma... but I worry more that
you don't speak with Akane. You should, you know."

 He flinched, sliding back half a step from her reprimand. "But..." he
started, before clamping his mouth shut and lowering his head.

 She nodded knowingly. "I spent so many years wondering if it was worth
it."

 "What was worth it?" He asked, bewildered.

 She shook her head knowingly, addressing the stone. "I'm sorry. I
should visit more often, Kaoru-dono. This is Ranma, he's a friend of
mine, and he has a problem much like mine."

 Ranma fell silent, watching uncomfortably.

 "Yes, he's a very good person... No, he's doing what I did. I know. I
hope he can listen, and let the love in his heart drive out the beast...
rather than fail as I did."

 Ranma stepped back again, seeing the emotion flare brightly in her
eyes, as she spoke to a specter from her past.

 "I... I miss you, Kaoru. I hope to see you again, once my penance is
paid." She lowered her head, sighing, and wiped away a stray tear. A
barely a whisper, she said, "I don't want to let him fail like I did..."

 ----------------
 Author's Notes:

 This was an exercise in stretching the number of styles I can write in,
and it's not... not _nearly_ as convoluted as it could be, but I do want
it to be understandable, if odd. I'm not certain yet, but this looks
like a two-part story, three at the most. Any and all C&C appreciated.
To borrow from Christopher Olsen, please C&C! It's why I write! ^_^


--
Haiku of my lament:

Forgive my spelling,
my U.S. education,
is the source of blame.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
                     desaix@sysnet.net
Sir Desaix, member # 116 of the Knights of the True Fiancee           
              anime  fanfics available at 
  http://www.geocities.com/zednik.geo/fanfics.htm

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