Disclaimer at end of chapter:  In addition, no gerbils have been
harmed in the writing of this fanfic, except for the few that
wandered into the Anime-con and were mistaken for kawaii dolls.

                     ASHES - A Cinderella Story
                           Chapter Thirteen
                   When You Wish Upon a Rock Star


   Follow the pattern and you'll find
   All the threads are intertwin'd
   First you twist and then you stomp
   Chapter Thirteen's set to romp.


HIROSHI:

"What happened?"

An alien landscape floated before my gaze, a landscape of gullies
and dry riverbeds resulting from years of incredible soil
erosion, centered by an oily pond which boasted a lillypad and a
dark pupil in its very heart.

"You fainted."

The pond blinked.

"Aaaaaaa!" I sat bolt upright, pushing Cologne away from me. "I
never faint!  I'm a guy!"

Cologne drew back and put away the odiferous bottle she had been
holding under my nose.  She observed in a doctorly manner,
"Nothing to be ashamed of, Boy.  You are in an unusual
situation."

"But I'm a guy!"

"Not at the moment. I oughta know," Ranma's voice intruded. 

I had been lying on a pair of tables in the dining area,
separated from the main room by screens, and I was wearing a
white robe.  A robe that clinked and rattled whenever I moved.  I
raised my hand to my face, and the hand was feminine.  I nodded
back at Ranma.  

"Oh, yeah," I replied.  "Forgot about that."

I have always looked up to Ranma.  He was a little stand-offish
when we first met, yeah, but he settled into being a good friend,
even if he refused to open up all the way.  Lately, however, I
had noticed a strain in our relationship.  For one thing, he had
a nasty way of smiling when he was pounding on you.  While I
liked that in a sparring partner, being newly arrived on the
martial arts scene, I did not like the way he was also starting
to smirk when he thought I was not looking.

"Look," I said.  "This wasn't my idea.  I never wanted to be a
girl!  Even part time."

"I believe you," Ranma smirked.  "Me, too."

"Tell me, Boy," Cologne hopped softly closer.  "Exactly how did
this enchantment come about?"

After nearly incapacitating my vocal cords, I had to admit,
"I...I can't tell."

"I thought so," she said, regarding me with one eye, the one
which had startled me a moment before.  "'Tool of the gods',
indeed!"

"But what does _that_ mean?"

"For one thing," she called back as she bounced away toward the
main dining area, "It means I haven't the faintest idea who has
done this to you, or why.  And that it is none of my business."

"Sorry," Ranma intruded into my thoughts again. He had a sheepish
look.

"About what?"

"She popped you with that cane of hers before I knew what she was
doing.  She's a tricky old ghoul.  I think she just wanted you to
be still while she checked you out."

Whew! "You mean I didn't faint?"

"Naww.  Yer pretty tough.  Y'mean what you said, that the wish
made ya stronger than Kidori?"

I wiped my chin, which I was surprised to find was wet with
drool.  I must have looked pathetic, lying unconscious on that
table, slobbering.  My thoughts were bleak as I considered
Ranma's question.  "I think so," I answered.  "Except when she
has that mask."

"Even then?"  His gaze was thoughtful.  "Ya sure about that?"

"No," I admitted.  "Not really."

Cologne had returned from the dining area to set out cups of
steaming liquid, which made the drool start again.  Supper was a
memory, overpowered by the aroma of nearby food.  "So, it's
possible that you could beat her, anyway?" she asked.

"I can't fight her!  Couldn't you do it?" I pleaded with Ranma,
"If I promised not to interfere?"  Even as I asked, I knew that I
could never merely stand by and allow it to happen.

"Nope," he shrugged casually, then recanted.  "Sure I could, but
I ain't go no reason to, now, long as she ain't after Akane. I'll
back ya up, but otherwise, it ain't my fight.  If you got the
power, then you can beat her yerself."  He indicated Cologne, who
appeared to have gone to sleep balanced on her cane, and added,
"Y'heard her."

Our conversation was interrupted when Nabiki breezed into the Cat
Cafe.  She called out,  "Felications, Cologne-san.  Hullo,
Saotome, Hiro...Cinderella-chan.  Thought I'd find you here."

She dropped a brown manilla envelope onto the counter and turned
to me.  "There have been a lot of girls named Kidori from that
particular village," she said. "Four thousand."

"There were four thousand Kidoris?" I asked, before I remembered
who I was talking to.  I reached for my wallet, only to remember
that it was somewhere off in wish-space.  After I begged Ranma
for a loan and passed on the wrinkled, carefully hoarded thousand
yen notes to Nabiki, she handed me a thin sheaf of papers.

"Plus, I had some luck with Kodachi's sketch, along with Ranma's
description.  This is a 'Noh' mask, possibly crafted by a certain
master masker of the era, Bunodai.  Bunodai masks were said to
have magical qualities."

"Yes, his name was inside the mask." I said. "Was he famous?"

"Try 'briefly notorious'," Nabiki smirked. "Some Bunodai masks
evoked such powerful emotions that the audiences would panick and
rush from the theater.  It was said they were supposed to release
the natural emotional skills of the actor.  Actors who wore those
masks claimed they could not act without them.  Ironically, that
may have been true."

She lifted out a photocopy of a sketch of a Noh actor on stage.
"The masks earned a reputation for being cursed. Bunodai made
masks for a troupe of actors, and the troupe became so popular
they performed for the emperor.  The emperor was so pleased and
gave them such lavish gifts, that they gave him their masks.
Despite the obvious publicity, the actors, every one, all
vanished into obscurity and never appeared on stage again.  It
was right there in our history texts, shortly before one of those
big fires."

"Still, I never heard about him." 

Nabiki shrugged, "It could be because Bunodai was not a he.  Her
husband handled the business end, while she remained in obscurity
to fill orders."

I puzzled over what she had told me.  "A 'Noh' mask?"

"Apparently."

"Not a warrior mask?  That's strange.  It looked horrific."  I
had to  admit that the mask I had tried on had been inert, a
typical 'Noh' mask, though very well made.  Only when Kidori was
wearing it did it become horrible.

"Instead of 'warrior mask', say 'face shield'.  Noh masks are
very lightweight, thinly carved wood.  They wouldn't protect you
from a paperwad,"  She returned the photocopy to the folder.
"Interestingly, all the masks she ever made were destroyed by the
owners.  It seems that not only was she capable of placing curses
on them, she was also revealed as a closet femi-nazi.  All Noh
actors were men, you'll remember.  My resident expert at the
museum says they wised up and got rid of the masks before the
masks got rid of them."

Cologne stirred from her corner of the table to mutter, "It would
seem that one of the masks survived."

"Apparently," Nabiki replied.  "Some person was so set on keeping
one that they did not care if it did steal someone's spirit."

"But who would do that?  Kidori's family?"

Nabiki shrugged, "On the present day Kidori, I can't help you.
Seems the records for her family were blown away in a storm.
'Primrose' simply appeared one year, started singing, and there
she was.  Her history trail leads into swampland.  Ditto for the
'step-mother' you told me about."

"Almost as if they were ninjas," I speculated, getting ready to
head home.  "I'll send Mousse's robe back."

Cologne glanced toward the kitchen.  "No hurry," she shrugged
dismisively.

-----------

I had forgotten about being alert.  What do you expect?  Since
when was I supposed to know that my meeting with Ranma could be
misinterpreted?  I pushed out of the Cat Cafe doors, blinking
into the opaque darkness, lit only by a few dismal sparks thrown
off by a shattered streetlight at the corner.  Accustomed to the
cafe parlor with its dazzling pink neon, I strained to make out
nearby shapes.  Slowly, they swam into focus.

One of the shapes reminded me of the Chesire Cat, only in reverse
- instead of slowly vanishing, it was slowly appearing out of the
gloom.  There were eyes, wide open and reflecting dimly the gleam
of light escaping the lowered curtain in the windows.  There were
teeth, bared in a grimace of supreme anticipation.  There was a
hammer, whistling down over the head of the Chesire Cat, who had
long, purple hair.  A big hammer.  Aimed at me.  Oops.

For an instant, I panicked.  I considered three different paths
of escape in the time it took the hammer to transcribe ten
degrees of arc.  In the end, I drew upon strength and speed
beyond my comprehension and intercepted the hammer, whirled
around it to stand on the head while I grasped the handle, riding
it down to smash into the sidewalk.  I was eyeball to eyeball
with a beautiful china doll.  She dropped the weapon and got up
in my face, railing, "What blonde bimbo doing with Airen?"

"I asked him a question!" I huffed as I straightened and tried to
move back, "Do you mind?"

"You strange girl," she observed, from inches away.  Someone
switched on a lighted sign and darkness faded.  I was remotely
aware of the way she filled out her garment, a watery blue silk
which combined with the ribbon in her hair to bring out the
depths of her eyes, as she pressed up against me.  From
somewhere, I recalled that she disdained use of a bra.

At this distance, her eyes were huge, beautiful, dreamy orbs of
mystic enchantment, floating in my vision - an incredible
improvement over the ruined landscape of her great-grandmother.
I forgot what shape I was in.  For a long moment, I considered
drowning myself in those pools, immersing myself in purple seas
where samisens played and houris danced for my pleasure.

"Aiyah!" she yipped, jerking back.  "You VERY strange girl!  Stay
away from Shampoo!"

"Gladly," I grumped, turning to go.

She spoke a few heartfelt words in Chinese and disappeared into
the cafe, glaring hatred at me.  In a moment, Ranma scooted out
the door trying to peel her off of his back.

"I tell ya, I ain't after nobody!" he yelped, "And I it ain't
like I'm really yer husband, anyway!  Let go!"

Shampoo finally released him, watched him leave with impatient
sorrow in those huge dreamy eyes, then turned her gaze on me.  If
looks could kill -  brrrr.  I hurried to follow Ranma.

Away from the cafe, Ranma turned to me, straightening his
sleeves.   He noticed the direction of my gaze and complained, "I
thought you was in love with that Kidori chick!"

"Hey, I can look, can't I?"

"Whatever.  We gotta getcha cured, before ya get in more
trouble."

"I wish we could," I mused.  "But I don't know exactly how."

"Y'said ya made a wish," Ranma tried again to delve into my
secret.  "What'd ya wish on?  A magic sword?"

"Not exactly," I hesitated, wondering if I could tell him how
the wish had come about.  I also wanted to ask him if he knew
about Ryoga turning into a pig.  It seemed an innocent enough
question to ask.  After all, they were both victims of the cursed
springs.  They had something in common.  Misery loves company.

"Yeah?  What did happen?" he prompted.

"Can't tell," I said thickly, and it was the truth.  When I tried
to talk about Ryoga my voice froze, and I knew that I could not
reveal Ryoga's secret, even if I had wanted to do so.

"Heh.  One of those kinda curses," he massaged the back of his
neck. "Might'a known."

"I'll just have to make another wish," I continued to muse.  "But
I can't, yet.  I have to help Kidori."

"Yeah.  If ya can," he watched me closely as he asked, "Ya really
gonna fight her?"

"I can't!  I can't hurt her!"

"Th'old goat says that's the only way."

"There has to be another!"

We talked about small stuff as we trudged along.  It was like the
old days, when I was normal and he was...well, he was the same
way he always was.

The night was cool and the stars were brilliant, crowded like
jewels over the darkened street, and I imagined that I could leap
high enough to touch them.  I felt a tingle of immense power, and
knew that Kidori had once again assumed the mask.  Somewhere in
Nerima, she could soon be stalking the streets, looking for a
suitable challenge.

My shudder rattled unknown metallic weapons beneath Mousse's
robe, but I did not investigate the noise.  I had learned not to
go exploring earlier when I had reached into the depths beneath
my armpit and pulled out a training toilet seat.

Then the surge of power was gone, and I knew she had relented.
Something had made her take off the mask, and knowing this eased
my tension.




REMEMBERING RAGNORAK:

In a tiny Nerima park two figures stood, an attractive woman and
a not-so-attractive man watching with interest an unfolding
drama.  In a nearby building, clearly visible to them despite
walls of mortar and heavy curtain, Kidori had tugged the mask
from her face and was looking about with apprehension to be
certain she had not been discovered.

For the first time, she had placed the mask on her face without
Mother ordering her to do.  The sheer effrontery of the deed had
frightened her so much that she had taken it off immediately,
before she came under its spell.

Shaking from the exertion, she looked about wildly, expecting
Mother to appear in a rage.  She laid the wooden shape aside and
allowed herself a lingering sigh.

She shivered with a delicious thrill.  She had found Haji!  Only
now, he was not called Haji, he was Hiroshi...Haji...Hiroshi....
She shrugged.  It would all work out. They were together again.
No.  They were not yet together, but they would be.  Soon.

So many lives she had waited, growing old time and again without
him.  Like jewels hoarded in a lacquered camphorwood case, she
had kept her memories of Haji, of that last precious time she had
seen him alive.  Now, she could take them out and hold them, for
now she had found him.  Now, she could hope.

Now, she could believe....

She remembered the chill bite of the wind skittering dead leaves
across the field of dead bodies, bodies of her villagers.  She
remembered the strange little man who had so arrogantly aproached
her in the heat of battle....

--She lifted the sword tip to his chin and he ignored it.  He met
--her eyes, his stormy gray to her stormy brown.  Neither blinked.

"What you say means nothing to me," she shook her head, and the
borrowed helmet flopped dangerously to one side when the padding
shifted.  "I have prepared my spirit for death, and my loyal
retainers have already mourned my passing.  To even speak of
living, now, would be an insult to my people who have given up
everything!"

"My Lady!"  Her one living retainer spoke.  In immense pain, his
wounds fatal, he had crawled to her side.  The little stranger
stood aside out of respect for the dying.

"Haji!" she leapt to his side, longing to hold him but afraid
that the slightest touch could snuff his life out that much
sooner.  "How is it you speak, when everything around has stopped
moving?"

"My Lady," gasped Haji through his pain. "Only the two of us, and
this demon, here, seem to be alive."

The little man bristled but controlled his anger to reply in a
steady voice, "While I am not a demon, I can see how you would be
concerned.  Let me assure you, the battle is still going on.  We
have only stepped outside it for a moment.  In a few seconds, yon
knight will unfreeze, and when he does, he will walk over here
and cut you both down!"

"Listen to him!" Haji begged, "You must remain alive!  Lord
Ieyushi needs you...I...I need you!  My Lady!  Accept his offer!"
He subsided in a fit of coughing, with blood showing from the
hand cupped over his words, the fingers going limp as life
departed.

She stood in rigid silence before uttering, "Even so, I will not
give my soul to some demon, in return for a trip to Hell!"

"Oh, if that is what worries you...." the little man stepped up
to her in a shuffling dance, a carved mask in his hands.  "I
certainly don't want your soul - too much book-keeping when I
could be out partying.  All this little device does is focus your
spirit so you can put your soul to some good use - such as
beating the snot out of that smartass over there."

"And I will never see you again?"

"Never.  You keep your soul."

--"So."  She hissed, "How do I beat him?"

--"Glad you asked, I must admit.  You see that face armor he is
--wearing?  Scary.  We'll just whip up one for you that'll make you
--even scarier.  Just remember to take it off as soon as you are
--through with it.  It will drain all your strength, if you wear it
--too long."

With a shrewd grimace, the little man added, "The man I won it
from was very explicit about this - if you keep it on, it will
give you a horrible headache."  He shook his head, reflecting.
"The fellow was honest enough in everything else, which was why
he lost at gaming, I might say."

Across the open ground of the windblown field where the people of
her village had tried...and failed...to stop the onslaught of the
green-flagged warriors, the lowland knight had slowly lowered his
foot to take another step.  Kidori had fingered the wooden mask
and hesitated, cautious of even the slightest taint of
witchcraft.  She had asked one more question.

--"What do I do with it, then?"

Clearly now, in her memory she saw the sly glance the little man
had given her, a grin which would have stopped her if she had not
been so furious.  The man spoke smooth, oily words to reassure
her, and she had donned the mask.  She had felt the power, and
she had lost her way.

--The stranger beside her watched the play of thoughts across her
--face, a gleam of satisfaction stealing across his face.

--"Oh, yes," he sang, "Time for payback, says I!"

Loki had watched the woman warrior flow into her attack.  She
struck at her opponent with the force of Freya's shuttle,
slamming to and fro on the loom of life, and with each blow he
felt the twinge that spoke of threads gone awry.  He grinned,
savoring the joke.  There was another twinge, an instant of
regret that he had not told the mortal everything, but it was
soon forgotten.  The sound of his laughter was lost in the tumult
of battle.  After all, what were mortals for, anyway?

As for the mortal, she soon found that defeating her foe was not
as simple as she had thought.  She had not known of the
reinforcements who were, even then, rushing to support the
lowland knight, nor could she have imagined having to defeat not
one, but a score of mounted samurai before she could remove the
mask and rest.  By then it was too late, the damage done.

In the present, Urd watched as Kidori wrapped the mask in its
silk wrappings and stored it carefully away, then the Norn turned
to her companion.

"What were you thinking?" she inquired, with only the faintest
hint of a teasing smile.  "You knew someone would notice,
eventually."

"We gods of Asgard are above petty worries," Loki sniffed.  "We
leave that stuff to you Norns.  You are so good at it."

"I'll bet," Urd smirked, then added, "No regrets?"

"Only a tiny one.  That lady warrior turned out to be quite a
fighter, so maybe I played her a mean trick.  I do have a
conscience, I'll have you know."

"Only a tiny one," agreed Urd, a teasing lilt softening her stern
expression.  "So, now we have to set things right.  Why did you
change your mind, anyway?"

Loki flinched.  "Freya greeted me as we passed in the common
recently.  She said to fix it," he spoke grimly.

"That motherly old dear?  Since when did you ever listen to her?"

"You didn't see the look she gave me!  Why, that woman could
freeze eagles out of the air at fifty miles!  Brrrrr!"

Urd chuckled.  "Freya doesn't like anyone messing with her
threads," she said, then dimpled.  "Why didn't you simply charm
her with your line of bull?"

"She was adamant!  You don't know her like I do - we go back a
long way.  Mortals who offend her get sent to the old ladies with
the scissors - we gods get more preferential treatment."  With a
shiver, he hitched up his breechs.  Movement in the park caught
his eye, and he said abruptly, "I have to leave.  Don't want to
be seen, here."

Urd jerked her head as an unseen clangor arose behind her, and
she said, "I'll have to go as well.  Something has disturbed my
watchdog.  Hey, hold on!  I said I was coming!"  A three-headed
dog, which sprang from nowhere, grabbed the hem of her garment
and towed her toward invisibility.  "You just wait, Lykos!  You
rip a seam and you're history!  Darn it, that's the last time I
sign up for that retrieval service!" cried Urd as she vanished.

Loki stepped back into shadows as a man came along the path, then
slowly eased back into the light.  "Have a nice trip?" he asked.

"As the goddess said, 'it is better to leave the past alone,'"
the man said.

"I'd advise you to listen to her.  Are you still with us?"

The man nodded and wiped an eye with his kerchief.  He added,
"But still, to see her one last time...."

"You mortals are a sentimental lot, I might say."

"Yes, but you can't leave us alone, can you?"

Loki gave him a crooked grin. "The human race is full of pomp and
pretense, good intentions and bad aim.  What good is all that if
you can't stir things up once in a while?"

The man lit a cigarette, sent a blue cloud towards the stars.
"Ready for the next step?" he asked.

"You're sure you're up for this?" Loki raised his hands, palm
out.  "Last chance to get another patsy."

"I'm the only one she'd go for," the man said.  He stubbed out
the butt and said his farewell.

Loki nodded in return as the mortal man left the park entrance,
then glanced beyond.  Someone else was coming.  He needed to be
somewhere else, but the chance to observe the upcoming encounter
was too tempting.   With a wriggle, he shrank to the size of a
woodsmouse and climbed a bush to watch.




HIROSHI:

"I keep thinking that I can go to her step-mother and challenge
her," I said. "If I could beat her, she might let Kidori go."

Ranma was dubious as we emerged from the dark into a well lighted
avenue.  "Ya mean y'd beat up an old woman?  I know y'got a lot
of skill, Hiroshi, but yain't been that kinda guy, before.  Ain't
that abusing yer power?"

"Trust me.  This old lady can take care of herself.  She almost
got me the first time I met her."  Ugly, too, although I did not
say this out loud.  What was it with the ugly old women who tried
to beat up on me?  When Ranma fought, he got good opponents -
martial artists.  Loons with deadly weapons.  Half-dragons able
to lay waste to the country-side.

What did I get?  Old witches.  Ugly stepmothers.  And homocidal
sweethearts.

We were passing through a shopping district when I saw Ranma stop
and look about, as if testing the air.  I sniffed.  I could smell
nothing, but I could _feel_ a prickling sensation, as if there
were somthing dangerous lurking nearby.

"Aha!  And now we have you!"  From the doorway of a pachinko parlor
stomped two not inconsiderable hulks.  I ammended my premonition.  Not
dangerous.  There had been something very annoying lurking nearby.

"Oi, Hirosh," Ranma raised an eyebrow.  "Friends a'yers?" 

"Sumo fans," I replied, stopping short.  I was not going to get
drawn into another fight, tonight.  I had suffered enough.  There
was a limit to what a girl had to put up with, and I had reached
mine.  I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead, which had begun
to throb.  What was I thinking?

Anyway, I was NOT going to fight.  I would refuse.

Tengu started in on me.  "Got boyfriend, eh?  Not so lucky, this
time!  Now we beat you, beat boyfriend!"

"My friend feels he has suffered sharply at your hand,"
Matsayouru explained.  "As have I, though I feel honored to have
been defeated by a person of your skill.  May we try you again?
We promise to end it as quickly and painlessly as possible."

"Forget it.  I'm not going to fight!" I said, gritting my teeth.

"Go kiss boyfriend," demanded Tengu, shoving me toward Ranma.
"Kiss him bye-bye.  We stomp him next!"

My face flushed hot with embarrassment as Ranma tensed.

"I've had enough of this," Ranma growled.  "A martial artist has
a duty to protect the weak!"

"Hey!" I recovered from my discomfort to snap at him, "You don't
get it, do you?  I am NOT helpless!"

"Oh, yeah?" he glanced at me.  "Just how would you handle it,
huh?"

"First, I don't fight when I don't have to."

Tengu shoved me again with his meaty hands.  I stumbled flailing
into Ranma, who caught me and pushed me back between the two
behemoths.

I sighed, morosely.  That's who I got to fight with.  My
girlfriend.  Old, ugly witches and stepmothers.  Two large,
stubborn, obnoxious, correspondence course sumo-wannabees.

My knuckles crackled as I closed my dainty hands into fists.
"What the hell," I growled. "Sometimes you have to."

The two pseudo-sumos moved into action at a run, having planned
their attack. They came at me from both sides, trapping me
between them, a walnut caught between pincers the size of
earthmovers.  Their faces gleamed with supreme confidence and
painful intentions as they closed in.

When they were close enough, I reached out, grabbed a collar in
each hand and yanked, ducking out out of the way at the last
instant.  Two heads collided with a meaty 'klonk' and two bodies
'whumped' to the ground.  We walked away as they lay groaning.

"Must be some kind of step-mother to know martial arts.  Y'know,
there's something about this I oughta be rememberin', but I just
can't think of it," Ranma said as we resumed our walk.  He looked
back at the mound of pain and added, "Gotta admit, you got yer
own style."

"She has some kind of hold over Kidori, and somehow she got this
mask," I said with determination, "I'll get it away from her, but
first I have to figure out how!"




WHAT LOKI SAW:

Marlar regarded the monk before her and and laughed, "Well, well,
well!  If it isn't my least favorite lardass monk!  Are you going
to try to stop me again?"

"I am afraid that I must," Basho nodded politely.  "I am truly
sorry for pouring the 'goodness goop' on you.  It is SO difficult
to predict how a good deed will turn out."

"You should be sorry, you imbecile!  It took me hours to get that
crap off of me!  Just look what it did to me!"

Basho regarded her with concern, then lowered his gaze.  "It went
farther than I feared," he said, folding his arms and bowing.  "I
regret that I have had to take advantage of your situation, my
good demoness."

"In your dreams, fat boy!" growled Marlar.  The alleyway rang
with the sound of her heels striking the pavement as she stomped
away from the monk.  She hesitated and looked back at him, but he
held his humble bow, albeit with a wary eye toward her.  He
seemed, indeed, almost apologetic.

He was sorry for her?  Impossible!  She growled, deep in her
throat, a rumble that had sent lesser mortals fleeing for safety
- or, she added grimly to herself, to preserve their manhood -
but the monk ignored the sound.  Snorting, she turned away.

She should bend the rules, just a little.  Make him dance as she
set fire to his plump bottom.  Show him what happened when
mortals interfered in affairs beyond their comprehension.  This
time, she would do more than immerse him in a vat of rancid honey
- just as soon as she finished with his sensei.

Again, she stopped, listening to the echoes of her footsteps,
trying to catch the dissonance.  The footsteps sounded almost
timid.  For some reason, the walls did not shiver when she passed
by, the returning sound waves did not cause pebbles to dance on
the alley floor.

She crinkled her nose, quit trying to identify the cause, snorted
again and resumed her march, stomping as hard as she could,
working herself into a satisfactory rage with which to confront
the man standing ahead of her in the park.

"You!  You're the headmaster of that stupid temple school!" she
bellowed.

The man bowed courteously, while maintaining a wary eye.  "You
honor me with the energy of your attempt," he said in a pleasant
voice.  "Even though you have been doomed to failure the whole
time."

Marlar laughed, wicked, wild, and loud.  "I have not yet failed,
rank mortal!  You will weep when you fully comprehend the fearful
doom I have engineered for you!  I will bring you down, yet!"

"You may yet try, and I am bound, by my own code, to accept this.
Who knows?" he smiled, "Perhaps you may succeed.  I love to see
someone strive against overwhelming odds and win, even if it is
to my detriment."

"And from which of your schools did THAT thought come?"

Marlar was becoming aware of her surroundings, and even more so
of the reflections from nearby store windows.  "What is THIS?"
she yipped, "I can see myself?  That's a baby, there!"

"When you cast the recovery spell to remove the effects of your
'goodness affliction', you over-compensated, thinking that you had 
been hit with one hundred percent pure goodness and niceness," 
Marlar heard another voice, only this one was feminine.  A hated 
voice.  A repulsive voice.  A croaking, silkily putrid, vomitous, 
stinking....

"Urd!" cried Marlar.

"Basho has a talent, but he has not yet learned discernment.
You did not allow for a taint of selfishness, and, as a result,
you have reverted to an immature status while you contemplate
your failure," Urd continued, holding up her own PDA, which
displayed a portion of the heavenly records on an etheric scroll.

"But...but what are you doing here?  How did you learn about
this?"

"Oh, I was only doing my job," Urd laughed merrily, and the
echoes bore an uncanny resemblence to Marlar's own previous
mirth.  "And I quit wasting time looking for that worm I thought
you snuck into Yygdrasill - once I remembered that there has
always been a worm there, since the beginning."

"You won't stop me!" cried Marlar.  "I will find that pig and get
that PDA, if it's the last thing I do!"

"Of course.  Be my guest.  Good luck, though.  I'm going to find
him first."
 
"You'll be laughing out of the other side of your face when I
get through with you!" Marlar gathered energy, her eyes gleaming
with Purpose.

"Oh, I don't think so," grinned the platinum haired goddess, as
she waved the demoness on.  "Go ahead.  Do your worst."

Marlar hurled her worst at the smiling goddess, and to the
demonesses' horror, the result was an infantile puff of fire and
smoke. "I've reverted to immaturity!" she screeched, "I'm a
teen-ager again!"

As Urd faded into the video static, Marlar heard her deep
chuckle, "You'll get over it.  But I am going to remember the
look on your face for a long, long time!"

"You're going to regret this!" Marlar bleated.  "I can't go
through my teens again!  It's unthinkable!  I'll get it reversed!
I'll carry it to the highest...Ooooo!  Look at those chic
fashions in the store windows!"





END:  CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Disclaimer:  The talented and beautiful Rumiko Takahashi and Viz
and a whole bunch more have dibs on Ranma et al, Fujishima
Kousuke and Animeigo take credit for associating Urd of Norse
mythology with kawaii features and a computer engineering degree,
Cinderella is an old fairy tale, which leaves me with Hainoko and
Kidori, who are derivative and probably belong to everyone.
Basho belongs to himself.  No reference to any present or past
singing group, rock star, entertainer, or agent is intended.  Not
to worry, since I don't intend to make any money off this, anyway.


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