Hi folks,

This my first post to FFML. Attached is Santuary Part 3. The RAAC is taking
a while to post it, so I thought you all might enjoy an advance copy.

Previous parts are available on the website at
http://agnar.homestead.com/ranma.html.


C&C is of course, always appreciated. Please send it to me directly only.

Sriranga

-------
"I know why you're here, Nabiki Tendo."

Nabiki had been about knock before the voice startled her. The woman
who had spoken stood beside her. She wore a simple frock and an apron,
a sharp contrast to Nabiki's formal business attire. Her hands, face and
clothing were besmudged from work.

Nabiki had ordered her best investigators to find Ryoga, and they had
discovered that he now lived here. Nabiki hardly believed it. Nothing short
of death could keep that boy from getting hopelessly lost, or so she had
thought.

Or perhaps there was something else. Nabiki could not recall the name,
but she remembered the woman's face. She was the one with the pig that
Ryoga liked. Maybe there was something that could keep Ryoga in one
place.

"I know why you're here," the woman repeated. "You're here for Ryoga.
You're here to take him away."
____________________________

Sanctuary - A Ranma 1/2 Fanfiction

By Sriranga Dattatreya - sriranga@bigfoot.com ICQ#: 20220776
And Vinita Venkatesh - vinitav@bigfoot.com ICQ#: 31994130

http://ranma.sundararanga.com (Note change.)

Many of the characters here were created by Rumiko Takahashi. A lot of
inspiration for this story came from Sanctuary, a manga by Fumimura Sho,
illustrated by Ikegami Ryoichi. No knowledge of this manga is required to
enjoy this story.
____________________________

Part 3: Devotion

Nabiki sat uneasily in her chair staring at the cup of tea set before her.
She had denied it, of course, but Akari had been totally right. Nabiki was
here to take him away. Could she really have been that transparent?

"Ryoga, honey, where are you?" Akari called to her husband.

"The kitchen, Akari, what do you need?" came the gruff response.

Akari stepped into the back room. "There's someone here to see you."

Nabiki flicked the porcelain cup, sending ripples through the cooling
liquid.
Her thoughts danced around from new doubts to new convictions. Akari
had seen right through her intents, but then stepped aside and let her into
the house.

"Come inside," Akari had invited her sweetly. Nabiki had tried not to
grimace and had entered. She would have to see their happiness before
suffering the guilt of destroying it.

Ryoga came into the living room from the kitchen. His hand slid along a
blue cord that stretched from a post in the middle of the living room to a
post in the middle of the kitchen. The living room was a sort of hub for the
first floor. Every room had a cord running from it to here and one ran from
here up the stairs to the second floor. A chart neatly posted on the wall
informed Ryoga which color cord he had to take to get to which room.

Ryoga sat down across from Nabiki. He was a lot different now, hardly a
boy. He still had his bandana, but he was taller and stronger, if Ryoga
could get stronger. His face had darkened and his hands had roughened
from working outside. And he wore a wedding ring.

"It's been a while, Nabiki," Ryoga leaned over and shook hands. After the
initial eye contact, his gaze dropped. Seeing her brought back some
painful memories.
"What can I do for you?"

"Ryoga, I discovered a month ago that Akane was killed by yakuza hit
men."

 With no response from Ryoga, Nabiki continued.

"And Ranma works for them."

"What?!"

"He's moved to Osaka." Nabiki placed a folder on the table and from it,
pulled several news clippings. Each headline sensationalized various
massacres or mass murders allegedly committed by yakuza. "My agents
have found rumors that he is responsible for most of these."

"So what do you want me to do?" Ryoga's voice was unsteady. "Why are
you telling me this?"

"You're the only one that can stop him Ryoga. You have to. If you loved
my sister at all, you'll do it." Nabiki cringed internally. She did not want
to
have to play that card.

"Do what, Nabiki?" He had to hear it.

"Kill the bastard, Ryoga."

Ryoga studied her face for any sign that she may not mean what she said,
but there was none. He closed his eyes for a moment to review what he
had just learned. Akane had not died due to some failure of Ranma's. She
had died as a direct result of his action. There was no excuse. Ranma had
to die.

Nabiki watched Ryoga consult his navigation chart and head up the stairs.
He returned moments later with his pack and umbrella. Without a single
word, he walked out the front door.

Nabiki rose to follow him. She had been successful. Ryoga would claim
the revenge that the Tendo family name so rightly deserved. She heard a
noise behind her and paused at the front door.

By the door to the kitchen stood Akari. Nabiki backed away. She could not
face her. Just this room of the farmhouse looked vast and empty with only
one person in it. Nabiki knew that Ryoga may take a long time in returning,
or may not at all. Akari knew that as well, but still had let Nabiki decide
which was more important, their happiness or her revenge.

Akari just looked on. She had made her choice in allowing Nabiki into her
home. She was content and without regret. Nabiki looked up once more to
try and meet Akari's eyes, but felt her heart crumple in guilt. Nabiki could
not handle it anymore and disappeared from Akari's sight. She ran to her
car.
____________________________

Garumin sat back in his chair. He loved this chair over all the others. The
arms and the wings on the back of the chair were covered in soft leather
cushions and encompassed him, providing a sense of security. This time,
however, he could not enjoy it. He was bitter.

What had happened was rather incredible. During his ten short months in
the can, Karuma had usurped control of the Ifura syndicate. No one else
questioned her authority so he could not either. She had returned him to
the same restaurant he had before his promotion. Murata and Tenuri now
managed the docks for her.

It had not stopped there either. For a good three quarters of a year, there
had been an uneasy cold war between Ifura and Ashikaga. The former,
led by Karuma, was not yet ready, and the latter, was scared out of its
mind.

Finally, Karuma made her move. An ultimatum was delivered to all the
Ashikaga heads that had not switched already: Swear loyalty or die. She
backed up both options with promises of renewed power and untold pain
and suffering.

Garumin had not believed his luck. He had been quite sure that a war
would start and Karuma would either be killed or arrested. It had taken
little effort to convince some of the fractured remnants of Ashikaga to try
and assassinate Karuma. He had warned them of her superior combat
skill and to take a lesson from what had happened to Muto, and they had
been more careful in the second attempt.

It had not helped. Karuma had blown them all to bits, and those who had
remained had pledged fealty to Karuma. She was the lord, or perhaps, the
lady of Osaka. Garumin verged on fear. Nothing prevented Karuma from
ordering his death. He needed more security. He had searched far and
wide for any information on Karuma's background and found none. Time
was running out.

The door slammed open. A man stepped in from the cold and dropped his
bamboo umbrella. His clothes were ragged and dirty from days of travel
and his shoes tracked mud onto the floor. Anyone attempting to break the
silence that followed his entrance, decided not to do so once they saw his
eyes. He dropped his rather large backpack on the floor and his umbrella
next to it. He walked directly to the bar, leaving a trail of footprints
along
the floor and carpets.

A waiter was trying to move the man's things from the middle of the
entranceway, but found them to be too heavy. The bartender timidly asked
what the man would like to drink and poured it for him. The man just sat
over his drink, a small shot of something powerful, Garumin assumed.
Five minutes later, the man stood and downed his glass. He turned swiftly
and scanned the room for something.

His face was cold and hard, but tanned from many days of exposure. His
features were set and determined. His eyes revealed the most. Skin
remained raw just beneath them where tear trails would start, but his eyes
were as focused as a hunter's. This man had lost someone dear to him
and was looking for something or someone. This man wanted revenge.
Garumin smiled at his discovery and whispered to himself, "Perfect."

The man found his pack, unmoved by the entranceway and started to
make his way towards it. He walked in a straight line. He did not move for
others; they moved for him, and he knew it. He gathered the pack and the
umbrella, which several waiters could not lift, with one hand. He
shouldered his pack and left.

Garumin called over Inata. The yakuza lieutenant was nearly fanatically
loyal to Karuma, he knew, but that did not stop him from being good at
what he did. The poor fool was obviously assigned here to spy for the don,
but it was very easy to prevent him from learning anything too revealing.
Besides, Garumin could always use him for something dangerous.
____________________________

Ryoga did not stop walking. Every once in a while someone always
thought that he had something more than clothes and camping equipment
with him. He did, of course. He had earned a few hundred yen from
occasional odd jobs. He had to eat like any man, and he too preferred a
nice meal. He just hoped that these guys did not want to fight back too
hard so that he would not have to hurt them too badly.

The yakuza goons watched their prey turn into an alley. Inata received the
nod from Garumin and gave the signal to go. It would be four to one, an
easy fight. The yakuza officer wondered why Garumin had chosen this
poor fellow to receive a beating and why he needed so many men to do it.
Regardless, Karuma would receive a full report afterwards. He sighed and
ran behind his men into the alleyway.

Inata noticed the man's pack and umbrella left at the entrance. The man
knew there would be a fight. As he turned the corner he found his men
had already surrounded the target and were circling him from a distance.
Two of them carried baseball bats and the third a bo staff. Each man was
at least a foot taller than their quarry and maybe twice the size. Their
faces betrayed backgrounds of mixed descent, their hygiene the fact that
they had been recruited from the dregs of society. The alleyway was dimly
illuminated by lights from the other side of the street.

"Leave now and you won't be hurt," Ryoga said in a gruff voice. "Stay, and
I'll break a bone in each of you. At the least."

The man was extremely confident of his ability, it seemed. He stood still
staring at the lieutenant, apparently recognizing him as the leader of the
group. Garumin would be waiting outside, of course, for an easy escape if
anything went wrong, but nearby to claim the victory if things went right.
The victim had no such escape plan. He did not even have a guard up.
That either meant he was skilled beyond any Inata had seen, or was trying
to bluff them. Inata dearly hoped it was the latter.

"I'm sorry." The yakuza nodded and the fight began.

One of the thugs to the right of Ryoga screamed and charged. He swung
his bat overhead at Ryoga's cranium. Ryoga never looked away from the
lieutenant. Both men stared calmly at each other, even as Ryoga fought.
He took a deep step towards the swinging batsman, inside his arc. His
hands shot out towards face and groin and using the man's forward
momentum, he launched the thug to the other side of the alley.

The second batsman seized the opportunity and came at Ryoga from the
rear left. Ryoga had no time to avoid the blow so he took it on his forearm.
Instead of a passive block, he swung his left arm back in a vicious
counterstrike, shattering the metal bat. Ryoga growled and grabbed his
arm, losing eye contact with Inata. He was not expecting the bat to be only
painted brown to look like wood. He gripped his wrist and dropped to a
knee. The throbbing pain and inability to clench his fist suggested that he
might have broken something. It did not matter. It would heal fast, but it
was time to end this quickly.

The man with the staff confidently jabbed it at Ryoga's jaw, hoping that
pain and Ryoga's kneeling position would make dodging difficult. He could
not have been more wrong. Ryoga swiveled and allowed the butt of the
staff to miss him. His other foot lashed out and struck the outside the
thug's knee. There was a crunch and a gasp of pain. The thug crumpled to
the ground.

Meanwhile the man with a broken bat helped up the other batsman. He
snarled at Ryoga, "You'll pay for hurting Moira." Ryoga just smirked and
stood, still clutching his arm. The two looked at each other and rushed
him.

Ryoga dropped back to the left. Then he stepped forward and spun,
delivering a powerful roundhouse kick to a thug's jaw. There was a sharp
crack and the yakuza fell to the pavement. In the same movement, Ryoga
stepped forward with his kicking leg and brought his other leg up for a
double blade kick, to the last thug's gut and thigh. Another crack left the
last yakuza doubled over in pain. Ryoga turned and, facing Inata, stepped
back into a guard.

Inata sighed and seemed to bow slightly. He held out his arm, offering it to
Ryoga to break. "You win." Ryoga smirked again. He always liked it better
when they knew they could not win. He walked towards Inata and abruptly
stopped when another figure stepped around the corner. This one was
grinning.

"I'm Kutira Garumin. I'd like to buy you a drink."
____________________________

Her head hung forward. Her hair was the same; cut short after her
accident on the day he met her. Her mouth was still open from the sudden
shock her body had experienced. Her eyes too had not had time to close.
Her face bore no expression, but he could not see anything but deep
sorrow. Nothing about her countenance revealed that anything had gone
wrong except the red liquid forming inside her lips.

Her torso was a total mess. He could see where each bullet had pierced
her clothing. Even if he turned away he could still see how each rose bud
had appeared on her school dress and blossomed until the blue cloth had
turned scarlet. The bullets had traveled clear through her body and
embedded themselves in the wooden wall of her home. The blood was
there too, painting a halo of thick, darkening fluid.

It had not been a simple execution. Whoever had done it had relished the
repeated "thunk" of a bullet piercing flesh. Akane had been the unlucky
one to open the door that morning and such was the result. It was her
fiance's duty to protect her, moreso since he had been a martial artist.
Ryoga had long thought that Akane's death was caused by Ranma's
weakness, by his failure to protect her. He knew better now.

A sudden crunch of glass breaking brought him back to the present. The
clear drink he had been served pooled on the bar and dripped off the
edge. He watched it indifferently. A waitress stared only momentarily
before she collected the broken shards and wiped the surface of the bar
with a rag. The man next to him resumed sipping cautiously at his drink.

"Garumin?" The other man looked up. Ryoga had remembered the name
correctly. "I don't have a lot of time to waste. Excuse me."

Garumin tugged at his arm. "Wait just a moment. I think I can help you."

"You don't even know what I want." Ryoga stood his ground.

"Then why don't you tell me?"

Ryoga looked at him for a moment before answering. "I'm looking for
someone."

"Really? I happen to specialize in finding people. Please sit." Garumin
guided him back onto the barstool.

"What are you? A private investigator?"

"Sort of. I have a lot of contacts all over Japan, and beyond. If this
person
you're looking for is in the country or nearby, I can find him." Garumin
smiled at his own harmless gloating.

"That's too bad," Ryoga said, preparing to stand. "I have no money."

"I don't want money."

"You'll help me for free?" Ryoga was surprised by his lucky find. He sat
back down.

"Well, tell me who this person is, and depending on how difficult he is to
find, I may ask a favor of you, but that's all." Garumin smiled internally.
He
had won.

"His name is Ranma Saotome. I last saw him four years ago. That would
make him 22. He has black hair. He wore it long in a braid. He's my height
and of a slightly thinner build. Four years ago. I heard he's probably here
in Osaka. For two years before that he lived in Nerima, Tokyo." Ryoga
said quickly. "He's also a dangerous yakuza killer, and he will pay for the
innocent blood he's spilled."

Garumin's eyebrows rose. "Oh, I see. No photograph, only description four
years old, and a yakuza. That is difficult, but I can do it, in a month at
the
most, in a week if he's in the city. I'll have to ask a small favor of you."

"Go ahead." It had taken a week for Ryoga to get to this city. If in a week
more, he had claimed Ranma's head, then it would be the most successful
outing he had undertaken.

"How good of a fighter are you?"

"I'm," Ryoga began. "Last time I checked, I was the second best in all of
Japan."

Garumin's eyes narrowed. It was uncanny. Both Karuma and this Hibiki
used the same absolute to describe themselves. It was hard to forget
when someone claimed to be the best and went on in no uncertain terms
to prove it. It was simply spooky when two people did, well, almost the
same.

"I'll trade you, yakuza killer for yakuza killer. We're both on search and
destroy missions it seems with only half the required ability. I can find
'em,
but I can't do 'em, and you have the exact opposite problem."

"So?"

"I'll get to work on finding this Saotome right away. In the mean time, I'm
going to introduce you to one of the biggest yakuza killers in Osaka, one
of the best fighters too." Garumin retrieved a picture from the inside
pocket
of his suit jacket and slid it to Ryoga across the bar. "Kill her. I get my
vengeance, and you get yours."

"Her? I don't fight�" Ryoga's eyes widened. There was no doubt. "This is
it! This is Ranma." Ryoga jabbed a finder at the photograph.

"What do you mean?" It was Garumin's turn to be surprised.

"This is Ranma Saotome, yakuza killer." Ryoga held up the likeness.

"You said Ranma was a black-haired male. That is a redheaded female,
and the don of the yakuza of Osaka." Garumin hoped dearly that this
Hibiki was not delusional.

"It's his curse. I'll show you. I need two glasses, hot water and cold
water."
____________________________

Inata had heard enough. He was not sure what it was all about, but
Karuma had to know. He picked up the phone and dialed.

"Kaburi, this is Inata. I need to speak to the boss immediately."
____________________________

Garumin knocked on the door. Hibiki had told him everything. He had
explained that he had several new tricks with which to defeat Karuma, but
it was not enough to soothe Garumin's mind. It had to be perfect. Hibiki
had said he was only second best. So, Garumin hid a few more aces up
his sleeve.

"You called, ma'am?" Garumin entered Karuma's office. It was very
strange. She was still the same girl. She had not changed her hair or her
looks, but somehow it was different. Karuma's behavior towards men in
general began to make a lot of sense.

There was something though. Karuma had changed her dress. Usually
she wore her waitress uniform or sometimes even casual woman's
clothing, but today, she wore a red shirt with funny buttons and loose
black slacks held up with a drawstring. On her feet were thin, flat slippers
laced tight.

She was prepared for a fight. Inata had probably told her everything, but
once again, Garumin reminded himself, it did not matter. Today was an all
or nothing bid for supremacy. Hibiki would kill Karuma, and even if he
were not all that successful, Garumin had other plans.

"You've been talking with someone about killing me, Garumin." Karuma
confirmed what Garumin already knew she knew.

"Yes, ma'am. When I met him, I determined that it would be wiser to have
him out in the open and to have the confrontation sooner than later. So
you could take care of him."

"Of course. What's his name?"

"Ryoga Hibiki. He said he knew you from your childhood." Garumin
searched Karuma's face for any hint of alarm. Karuma guarded her
thoughts well, but Garumin saw a little something. A small twitch of her
lips and brow told him that she was concerned that Ryoga might have
spilled a little too much information. Either that or she had not bought his
excuse. Or both.

"I see. And where is this Hibiki?"

"He is due here at noon. I have someone showing him here."

"Two minutes. So I suppose I'd better go meet him. Thank you, Garumin.
You may go."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Garumin descended a flight of stairs and walked to his office. Every
subsidiary head had an office in the Ifura Syndicate's headquarters, just as
each had a room in the Ifura Don's mansion. Both were probably bugged
for both video and audio, but they were there nonetheless, and this one
had a good view of the street below.
____________________________

Ryoga tightened his grip on his kettle and his umbrella and dropped his
pack to the ground. These were the only weapons he needed to defeat his
foe. He looked up at the tall building that had been pointed out to him. The
man who had done so had promptly disappeared, but the building
remained in front of him. Ranma, Karuma, or whatever he called himself
now would come from that building, and he would die.

The winter sun glared from the south, down the street. Almost as if to
answer his thoughts, the glass doors of the building burst open. There at
the top of the steps stood his enemy. He was still a girl. He would have to
change that.

"Ranma," Ryoga bellowed across the street. The sound echoed through
the valley between the close buildings.

"Ryoga," came the answer. The voice was hardly masculine.

"So it is you, Ranma."

"Ranma died with Akane." Her gaze fell to the street below. "I'm Karuma
now."

"You mean Ranma should have died instead of Akane." Ryoga's grip
tightened on the handle of the steaming kettle he had brought with him,
and he flung it across the street.

Ranma felt his waist expand to stretch the loosely tied drawstring and felt
his shoulders and arms grow to fill his shirt with hardened muscle where
before had been feminine curves. He had not been able to bring himself to
dodge. Ryoga's words had rung too true.

"If only," Ranma muttered, "If only it could have been that way."

Suddenly, it grew dark as if something had eclipsed the sun. With a yelp,
Ranma ducked and rolled out of the way. The sharp corners of the
building's steps stung his back and neck. The space behind him exploded
into shards of slate and mortar.

"Ryoga! What are you doing?" Ranma brushed himself off.

"I'm here to kill you, Ranma." There was not a hint of rage in his voice.
"To
avenge Akane's death."

Ryoga extended his umbrella and lunged forward. Ranma stepped inside
the weapon's reach.

"What? What does Akane have to do with this? With anything?" The very
name disturbed Ranma's balance.

Ryoga backed off a step. "You killed her, Ranma, you and your yakuza
slime." He jabbed again, forcing Ranma to hop away in defense.

"Wha, What're you talking about?" Ranma stuttered.

"You understand plenty. Because of you, I've seen hell. Prepare to die."
Ryoga charged.

It was said coldly, but the words were the same. Ranma smirked. Ryoga
just wanted a fight. That Ranma could understand. And he could beat
reality into Ryoga's head while he was at it.

Ranma grabbed Ryoga's umbrella and rolled backwards. With a swift kick
to Ryoga's gut, he used Ryoga's own momentum to fling him through the
air. The latter landed neatly on his feet, and spun around to face his
enemy.

"Okay, Ryoga. Have it your way. Let's settle this."

Ranma leaped forward. A few hundred quick punches to Ryoga's stomach
and the fight would be over. Ryoga apparently had the same thought. He
launched a roundhouse kick at Ranma's head. Ranma ducked low only to
catch Ryoga's other foot with his jaw.

Ryoga continued pivoting on his umbrella, gently coming to a stop. He
strode over to where Ranma recollected himself several yards away.

"You learn a few things when you're on crutches." Ryoga smiled wickedly.

Ranma tested his jaw by moving it sideways to make sure it was still
attached and jumped up. His shirt was already torn from skidding along
the pavement. If Ryoga wanted a real fight, he would get one.

Ranma's image flickered, and Ryoga suddenly convulsed. All around his
body blurs would appear as Ranma slowed enough to see, and Ryoga's
body would shudder under impact. Even as he cradled himself in a semi-
fetal position, Ryoga concentrated. He did not need to intercept every
strike. He only needed one.

Ranma felt his right wrist get caught by Ryoga's iron grip. He was stuck. A
twist and pressure on his elbow drove him to his knees. Ranma was
breathing hard.

"You're tired, Ranma, and out of shape. Seems like yakuza life has made
you soft."

Ranma stopped panting. He turned his head to get a look at Ryoga and
sprung up and around to deliver a retaliatory kick to Ryoga's face. As
Ryoga tumbled along the street, Ranma stood and calmly walked towards
him.

"Who's tired? You learn a few things when you're a yakuza," Ranma
sneered.

Ryoga crawled to his feet, clutching his abdomen. He cleared his throat
and spit some blood. For what Ranma's blows had done to others in the
past, Ryoga was doing fairly well. From the kind of blows Ryoga had taken
in the past, Ryoga was far from finished.

As Ryoga regained his posture, Ranma ran up and threw a hard punch to
his gut. Ryoga grunted and smashed the side of Ranma's face. Both men
staggered, and then turned trading hard punches with one another. They
reeled, only to dive at each other again.

"Ranma, you fool. No man exchanges blows with Ryoga Hibiki and lives,"
Ryoga taunted in a brief respite.

Ranma's response was only to stand up straight. What his crouched
position had been hiding was that none of Ryoga's strikes had hit. Every
bruise, cut, and tear in Ranma's skin and clothing was located on a non-
vital spot. Ranma was taking Ryoga's punches, but only on those parts of
his body that could take it. There was no mistake. Ranma was hurt, but
not as badly as Ryoga thought or as Ryoga was.

Ryoga reached forward and grabbed Ranma's shirt collar, for a change of
tactics. Ranma graciously accepted Ryoga's exposure of his belly and
returned the favor with three hundred and fourteen punches.

Ryoga wretched and coughed blood all over Ranma's face. Then with a
breath and a growl, Ryoga lifted Ranma up and flipped him over his back.
Ryoga rolled off his back to his knees and dove to recover his dropped
umbrella.

The two men stared at each other. Both their faces had swollen. Any skin
that was exposed was gashed. Clothing was torn, and breathing was
ragged. Ranma helped himself up to a knee, supporting himself with a
bruised and battered arm. Ryoga followed suit.

With an uncoordinated lurch, Ryoga launched his umbrella towards
Ranma. The latter smirked. Such a large weapon was easy to see and
easier to dodge. He simply tilted his head to the side to allow the bamboo
instrument to pass. Ryoga mumbled something.

"Say something, Ryoga?" Ranma jeered. He cocked his head. He heard
something behind him. It sounded like metal bending.

"I said, 'Breaking Point'," Ryoga repeated. As he caught his breath, he
smiled, and then ducked.

The metal frame of the car exploded. Ranma was sent flying through the
air. His back, arms, and legs were covered in lacerations. He landed hard
on his front, and could still feel some of the steel shrapnel lodged in his
back. Ranma groaned and posted an arm to get a better look at his foe
and the battlefield.

Ryoga had triggered the Breaking Point Technique with a thrown object.
That meant the largest weakness in the technique -- that it hurt the
practitioner more than the target -- had been neutralized. Ryoga knelt to
pick up a piece of metal.

Ranma sprung and rolled, but not before being pummeled by road
fragments. Ryoga had not been spared entirely from either blast either,
but he bore less new injuries than his nemesis. By all accounts, to all
observers, both these men should be long dead, or at least unconscious.

They struggled to stand. In tacit agreement, the fight was paused to allow
both sides to recover. Ranma gritted his teeth and straightened his back.
Then, he began to pluck the embedded splinters of metal from his skin.
Ryoga groaned and rubbed his forehead, before he too stood up.

The two stared at each other for a moment, and then eyed the ground for
additional weaponry. Ryoga stooped to gather a rock broken from the road
surface and hurled it at Ranma's feet. Ranma stepped forward and kicked
it off target before firing his own counterstrike. Ryoga dropped to his
knees
as a scrap of car impacted the right side of his stomach. Ryoga checked
the wound. His shirt had been shredded, but the sharp metal had been
unable to pierce his honed abdominal muscle. Nevertheless the impact
and the point chosen had been enough. Before he could stop himself,
Ryoga doubled over and vomited.
____________________________

Garumin watched from above. This was not good. There had been many
points in the battle where he had been sure one side or the other could
claim victory, but each time he was surprised. This time, Hibiki was
spitting blood while Karuma looked on. Each man seemed to know the
other's fighting style, and they would be the first ones to know when the
fight was over.

Garumin smiled. That is, if the two were only fighting each other. He
turned on his laser pointer and flashed it through the window. It was time
to end the fight his way.
____________________________

'Danger!' Ranma dove to the side, but his injured body could not react fast
enough. He shouted in pain as two bullets entered his thigh. Ranma's life
preservation instinct took over. The threat had to be eliminated
immediately. In the same motion, Ranma tumbled to a knee and raised his
right hand behind his head. Between his fingers formed a spherical glow,
which Ranma hurled at the source of the gunshots.

The gunman had ducked behind a car, but it was of no use. As the fireball
hit the glass of the window, it flattened and enveloped the entire vehicle.
Then the gas tank exploded. More pieces of car rained on the street. The
gunman's flaming carcass flew and crashed against the brick wall of Ifura
Headquarters, sticking there for a moment before oozing to the ground.

Ranma grunted and twisted his shoulder to intercept another bullet aimed
for his heart. With another energetic yell, he hurled a sharp piece of
rubble
nearly straight up. It hit the edge of the roof of the building across from
the
Ifura offices directly below the sniper's feet. His support collapsed, and
the
sniper screamed as he fell to the street.

Ranma's battle aura flared. Two more gunmen at street level blew their
cover and bolted. Ranma decided to let them live. He would kill them later.

Ryoga looked around. His arm was raised protectively to deflect any stray
bullets, but the gunshots had stopped. Ryoga glanced over at Ranma. The
latter had found a sharp scrap and was using it to dig the three bullets
from his flesh. The fight really was over. Interference by the goons of that
Garumin fellow had removed any honor from the fight. But there was one
thing Ryoga had to know.

"Why'd you kill her?" Ryoga glared.

"I told you. I didn't," Ranma restated.

"Liar!" Ryoga summoned strength from beyond and leaped through the
air. Ranma just managed to limp to the side. He landed, striking a
Breaking Point in the asphalt with his foot. Both combatants were tossed
to the side.

Ranma groaned and looked up. Ryoga was slowly getting to his feet.
Ranma had to find a way to end the fight as soon as possible. With a grunt
he pushed himself along the ground towards the crater formed by Ryoga's
latest blast. Another push dropped him in.

Ryoga lowered himself into the depression in the street. Ranma sat up,
supported by the steep slope. It was clear that the last explosion had
incapacitated him, at least from the waist down. On one leg, torn skin
revealed thigh muscle and bone. Yet Ranma needed to use that leg for
the other, injured both by bullets and shrapnel was liable to snap at the
lightest stress. The fight was over.

"Think your last thoughts and say your last prayers, Ranma. You're going
to die," Ryoga looked down at his oldest rival. It was hard to imagine.
After
all those years, after all that time, Ranma fought for the underworld, and
finally, Ryoga had won.

Ranma could barely keep focus. His thoughts strayed from the fight. He
could only think of one thing, and the name slipped from his lips as he
passed into unconsciousness. "Akane�"

The name stopped Ryoga. The brigand dared to summon her spirit after
defiling her body. The vision once again returned to him: the pristine
Akane violated with bullets. He wretched, but his stomach contained
nothing to vomit. All the hate that he saved then was for today. This blast
would be perfect in not only its power and execution, but also its final
result: it would send Ranma to the depths of hell.

But it would not come. The pain and desperation had been choked.
Frustration flooded Ryoga's mind. He grit his teeth. He was Ryoga Hibiki.
He would not let his own imperfect body interfere with Akane's vengeance.

"Damn you, Ranma! Breaking point!" Ryoga jabbed his finger at the
ground just beneath Ranma's jaw.

The two of them were thrown out of the crater in a shower of dirt and
stone. Ryoga was the first to recover. With his hands, he dragged himself
on his hip to where Ranma lay, looking about in a stupor, eyes barely
open, and trying to turn himself over. Ryoga obliged him and glared
solemn hatred.

A distant rumble alerted Ryoga. He looked up. There were no clouds, and
the sky was clear. He looked each way on the street. There were no
trucks. The rumbling grew again. It was coming from below. He looked
back at the crater and then at Ranma.

Ranma lips turned upward in a smile and his eyes closed. The water main
had broken. The cold-water geyser left a girl and a pig. She awakened
first, only a few moments after the change, and checked her injuries and
nodded. One thing she had noticed about the curse was that the
transformation sped the pace of healing. The pig was unconscious. His
wounds also had closed a little, but for the unhardened body of a runt pig,
it was too much.

Ranma gathered Ryoga and limped back towards the Ifura offices. Inata
appeared at the doorway and rushed to help her.

"Boss, are you ok?" Inata was somewhat confused regarding his
superior's shape change, but his concern was still genuine.

"I'm fine, Inata." Ranma exhaled sharply and allowed Inata to relieve her
burden and help her stand. "But we're going to need some bandages.
Lot's of 'em."
____________________________

"Where the hell am I now?" Ryoga screamed, but there was no sound. His
eyes opened, and he was able to breathe, but nothing else seemed to
work. In the same room were at least two other people.

"Do you need anything else?" One of them asked. Ryoga could not see
his face but was fairly sure it was the same one that had led the attack in
that alley.

"I have everything I need," someone else replied. It was Ranma in his girl
form. Ryoga could tell by the voice. The other man carefully stepped out
and shut the door.

Ranma's face appeared in Ryoga's view. She was using the desk for
additional support. Ryoga felt Ranma tap the pressure points that would
release his neck and jaw.

"Ranma, what have you-" Ryoga launched into his accusations, but
stopped short. Ranma's thigh was torn open, sliced lengthwise, worse
than it was during the fight. There was a knife on the desk next to a pair
of
tweezers and a pair of bullets. Ranma sat back down, fingering a threaded
needle. She had to work fast so she could release the tourniquet that
staunched the blood flow.

"Ranma," Ryoga started again, this time in a normal tone. He noticed that
his own wounds had already been cleaned for him and the worst ones
bound.

"Ryoga, who killed Akane?" Ranma's voice gave away no emotion.

Ryoga waited a breath. "I thought you did."

Ranma finished her work before speaking. "I would have died for her. You
know that."

"You should have, Ranma." Ryoga could not help the barbed comment. It
was still too true. Ranma's silence seemed to convey an agreement.

"What are you going to do?" Ryoga asked. This conversation with Ranma
was more than a little weird.

"Who ever killed Akane has to die, Ryoga." Ranma turned away and
looked out his window at the ruined street below.

"You're a yakuza," Ryoga accused. Then, a thought occurred to him. Was
it possible that Ranma really did not know?

"So?" Ranma turned back to look at Ryoga.

"Ranma, it was yakuza that killed Akane. Nabiki told me so." The words
were out before Ryoga realized their consequence. He cursed himself for
assuming that this was the Ranma he thought he knew.

"You're going to spend the rest of today and tomorrow here," Ranma told
Ryoga after a pensive moment. "I'm going to have a chat with Nabiki, and
I'll need to talk to you when I get back."

"Why should I stay?" Ryoga asked, leaving out the obvious fact that he
still could not move.

"I'll have one of my men take you wherever you need to go. Think of it as
a two day trip rather than the full week of misery it would take you
otherwise."

"What's going to stop you from hurting Nabiki?" Ryoga wanted to avoid
another debt of honor to the Tendo family.

"Why would I-" Ranma began, but stopped short and smiled. "Well,
certainly not you," she answered.

"Why you-"

"Inata!" Ranma interrupted with an abrupt yell.

The lieutenant poked his head in the door. "Boss?"

"Ryoga is going to be here for a couple days. Feed him." Ranma gestured
to her incapacitated rival.

"Yes, ma'am." Inata accepted the duty with a bow.

"Ranma," Ryoga said, craning his neck to see, "before you go, tell me.
Why are you still a girl?"

"Inata, I will also need a glass of hot water," she requested.

"Yes, ma'am. There is one other thing."

"Yes?"

"Garumin is gone."
____________________________

The clack and rock of the subway car gently soothed his worries. In a few
moments, Garumin would be in Tokyo, safe from Karuma's immediate
reach. Escape had been quite easy. Karuma in her weakened state had
not thought to order his detainment, and he only had to walk out of the
office and to the station. He checked again the envelope he had prepared
earlier, his collected notes on Karuma, Ranma Saotome.

Yet, it would be a simple matter for Karuma to send a hit man to eliminate
him. Then it would all be over. No, he had to make himself important
again. If someone who was more powerful than Karuma were to need him
alive more than she, he wanted him dead, then he would get to stick
around for a little longer.

The Tokyo mob was of course the answer. It had more men, more money,
and more resources than the combined strength of Osaka, united as it
was under Karuma. Tokyo too was consolidated only recently. They would
have little need for an excommunicated subsidiary head from out of town.

Garumin smiled. Networking was so important in the yakuza business like
any other. He remembered when his youthful assumption that other
bosses were as smart as himself was shattered. How joyful he had been.
There were many who earned their rank simply by being the rough and
tough goons that the yakuza once needed. These men needed someone
like him to tell them what to do.

Karuma's only advantage had been that she could do both. The train
slowed as it entered a station. Garumin had made the mistake of
underestimating her ability, but it would not happen again. He was smarter
than Karuma, and now that he had Karuma's background, all he needed
was someone who was bloodier than Karuma. He knew just the man.
____________________________

Ukyo looked out the window as the train came to a soft halt. "Osaka
Station. This is the last stop. Please gather all your belongings before
exiting. Thank you and enjoy your stay," the announcer blasted over the
public address.

 She was dressed rather casually in a pair of pants and a long-sleeve shirt
with a scarf thrown around her neck. Her hair was loose, just as she
always wore it. She loosened her neck tab and walked towards the taxis.

"Ms. Kuonji?" Ukyo looked up as a driver approached her. She nodded
and followed him to the car. She gave the man an address card and
settled back into the warm interior of the car. The driver had been smart to
have the engine already running. She would have to thank him for that
later.

Right now, she was hungry and cold, and all she could think about was
food. Anything hot or with a temperature higher than freezing would do.
She took in all the smells around her, and noticed that certain one was
missing. She had always hated the smell of okonomiyaki. It reminded her
of promises to her and by her, both unkept. It reminded her of a childhood
lost, wasted, on a vain pursuit.

Most of all, it reminded her of the smell of charring flesh. It had been
enough to make her choke. The sheer disgust had caused her to forfeit
the contents of her stomach time and time again, for weeks.

"We're here," the driver spoke, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?" Ukyo looked up from the floor at the driver and then outside. "Oh,
thank you. I didn't realize we had even moved. Here."

She handed him a bill, and turned to the building in front of her before he
had a chance to make any change. 'Osaka Metropolitan Police
Headquarters,' the sign read. It was not exactly what she had pictured it to
be.

"Hello, miss. May I be of assistance?" The lady at the front desk seemed
nice enough.

"Thank you. I'm Ukyo Kuonji, here to see Inspector Oshida please."

"Yes, he's waiting for you at the 4th floor lounge. The elevator is right
that
way." Ukyo bowed to her and proceeded in the motioned direction.

Cooking or even eating okonomiyaki again was out of the question. So
she had found herself a new job. It had been the yakuza demanding
protection money that had put her out of business and driven beloved
Ranma to who knows where. So she would have to put them out of
business. If she did a good enough job here, they would move her back to
Tokyo.

When the elevator doors opened, a man stood from an easy chair. He
wore a tan trench coat over his uniform and had not shaven in a few days.
'He's trying to impress me with the grizzled look,' Ukyo thought.

"I'm Inspector Oshida," the man said, bowing with respect. "You must be
the new Deputy Chief."
____________________________

"So why are we here?" Oshida turned to ask Ukyo as he stepped out of
the car. They had parked their unmarked vehicle a block away from the
Ifura mansion. There were no guards posted visibly outside even now in
the early morning, but there was no doubt that yakuza observers would
spot them if they had not already, but that meant little.

Oshida smirked. He remembered they had found the bodies of the old
Ifura and Takeyama dons. The coroner's report said that there was not a
scratch on either of them aside from the gunshot wounds to their chests,
fired by the weapon that the other held. Their bodies were surrounded in a
halo of thickening blood.

It had been an amazing find. As the most powerful yakuza in Osaka,
Karuma would be difficult to arrest and convict. Not only would Oshida
have to find evidence on her, but he would also have to find witnesses
willing to testify. That last was always a clincher.

Even the police in Osaka and in Japan avoided confronting the yakuza
and vice versa. All that would result were the deaths of a few honorable,
brave officers and several slimy thugs, hardly an equal trade, and hardly
the odds the police would need to win a war of attrition. There was also
the fact that most politicians in both local and national governments owed
their positions to the yakuza. A police officer of any rank that was too
righteous without delivering a complete victory would assuredly lose his
job.

Oshida had found few that were like himself, willing to put their jobs and
lives on the line, and he had been lucky that he was assigned to Deputy
Chief Kuonji. It was Day 2 on the job, and they were already on a stakeout
at the Osaka don's residence. She was surely smarter than he, having
scored near perfect on the civil service exam, but he had been on the job
longer than she had. Still, the higher rank that she had earned
commanded more respect and above all more resources. Karuma had
grown in power, but via Kuonji, so had Oshida.

Ukyo closed her door and sat on the edge of the hood. "A hunch." She
retrieved the photograph she had been carrying in the pocket of her
uniform jacket and showed it to Oshida.

"Don Karuma," said Oshida, recognizing the redheaded, and decidedly
female boss.

"I think I've seen that person somewhere before," Ukyo replied, keeping
her eyes on the gated driveway. There was some activity.

"Really?" Oshida turned to face his superior.

"Combined with the handy work from yesterday's, 'assassination attempt,'
you called it, it is too uncanny."

"Are you familiar with the assassin as well? All we have are the rumors I
reported before: that Garumin arranged the hit and has left town, and that
Karuma was injured but not killed," Oshida repeated the information
attempting to reach the same conclusions that Ukyo apparently had.

"Yeah. I think I know him." Ukyo set the photograph down on the hood and
tapped it for emphasis. She stepped away from the car to get a better look
at the mansion. A single man emerged from the gatehouse. He said
something the guard and began to walk away from them.

Oshida nodded and refocused on the gates before doing a double take to
the photo. "Him?"

Ukyo pointed to the lone figure with his back turned to them. She
recollected the image of his face in the light from the gatehouse. The wind
gusted briefly to reveal baggy, black pants and flat black shoes. Could it
be the Chinese-style clothing that she was afraid to find? There was no
way.

"Him," Ukyo confirmed. "I'll follow on foot. You bring the car."

Ukyo ran across the street. Somehow she made running in heels look
easy. 'Heels?' Oshida waved his hands and whispered as loud as he
could, "You're still in uniform!"

Ukyo looked at him, flashing an annoyed look. It was not clear if she had
heard him, but she pointed to the car, signaling him to get in. He
reluctantly complied and gently started the engine, realizing only afterward
that the motor did not care how gently one turned the ignition key. It was
always the same volume.

Oshida inched forward. Nominally, he would turn off the street and follow
along a parallel road, but he had not thought to bring an extra radio for
the
Deputy Chief. He did not think they would find anything, much less pursue
on foot.

He stopped his car when he realized that both the man and Chief Kuonji
had stopped. He strained his eyes to make out the outline of the man as
he stood in the penumbra between the illuminations of two streetlights. He
did not turn around or move at all. It was as if he were sensing something.
It seemed as if Kuonji felt it too. The Deputy Chief had not moved a
muscle or even breathed deeply.

Suddenly, the man took off. Kuonji sprinted after him. Oshida followed
close behind. Oshida smirked. He remembered reading in the Deputy
Chief's profile of her perfect scores on her physical fitness test. She was
a
real elite in every sense. He accelerated more to keep up. The
speedometer read 16 kilometers per hour and was slowly rising.

The man looked behind him and saw that he was still being pursued. He
paused as if to stop, but then leapt up a full story. From each windowsill,
balcony, or ledge that he found available, he continued his ascent for
three floors until he reached the rooftops of the commercial buildings.

A blue streak across his windshield caused Oshida to jam his breaks.
Deputy Chief Kuonji had bounded across the street and now was climbing
the buildings just as the man had. The befuddled inspector got out of the
car to get a better look. As it became clear that the light was playing no
tricks, his jaw slowly dropped open. Apparently gravity was not one of the
laws that Chief Kuonji intended to enforce.
____________________________

Houses and streets flew under them as the pace of pursuit was taken to a
level unattainable by untrained people. Ukyo reexamined what she knew.
Aside from the speed and altitude they were at now, the craters and
damage at the Ifura syndicate's headquarters suggested a highly skilled
martial artist. There were also the eyewitness accounts of balls of fire and
exploding cars. The Ifura don, a highly distinctive redhead who looked
much like Ranma's cursed body, was not seen in the fight until the very
end but allegedly had taken a heavy beating. Now, she chased a man with
a pigtail.

She knew it had to be true. The man made a sudden drop into an
alleyway. She bounced off a streetlight to change direction and continued
the chase. Yet she desperately hoped that it was not. After all these years
when the troubles of their high school years were behind them, she would
still be duty bound to fight him.

He ran onto a busier street. A crowd milled about the entrance to the train
station. He leapt up and hopped from shoulder to shoulder. She put her
whistle to her lips and blew several short bursts. If he got out of town, it
would be impossible to find him again.

"Stop! Police!" She yelled as she followed him. He jumped the ticket
collection, and so did she. The running was finally getting to her, but he
showed no sign of slowing down. She doubted she would be able to keep
up with him. He would escape just as she was so close. Before he left,
she had to know for sure. She called to him.

"Ranma?"

The figure in the black trench coat halted. A voice from the past had
beckoned him. He turned slowly. His face was different now, much older,
but that was expected. His jaw and cheekbones were sharper, more
visible, and his eyes narrowed as he tried to make out his pursuer.

The crowds in the train station rushed to and from the train that had just
arrived. Masses walked through the two of them as though they were not
there. The two stared at each other through the bodies of the commuters
as if only the other existed.

Her face lit up with recognition, though his did not. She wore the blue of
the Tokyo police. A cap lay slanted on her cascading brown hair. Buttons
on her jacket formed a golden dotted V and passed over her breasts to
her waist where a short tight skirt fell to her knees. It was a small wonder
how she was able to keep up with him while her legs were constricted by
her uniform. The badge above her heart read, "Deputy Chief Kuonji."

Her expression of joy quickly died and she clenched her teeth. She hated
that duty sometimes preceded friends, even long lost ones.

"Ranma Saotome, you are under arrest."

He looked at her for a moment longer before he realized who she was. His
face lit up with a smile, having found his childhood friend. It was not the
same smile genuine joy to which Ukyo had been privy four years earlier
nor was it the serene bliss he had when he was with Akane. It was the
smile of one that, after years of darkness, had reason once again to hope.

"Ukyo," he said and approached. She reminded herself. This was not the
same Ranma she knew. This was the don of Osaka's yakuza and a
coldhearted killer. It did not make sense.

"Ranma, why did you join the yakuza?" Ukyo asked.

"Why did you join the police force?" Ranma countered.

Ukyo looked down at her feet. "When Konatsu was killed, I needed to do
something. I wanted to prevent it from happening again."

"So you joined for vengeance?"

"I've been doing vengeance too long to do it again," said Ukyo.

Ranma winced visibly. "So why did you do it then?"

"To make a bigger difference. I might be able to find and kill the yakuza
who killed Konatsu and Akane, but if I stop there, then there will always be
other yakuza to kill more innocent people." Ukyo paused when she saw
the realization on Ranma's face. "You didn't know?"

"I wasn't sure." Ranma looked at the ground somewhere pensively. "Have
the guilty yakuza been caught?"

"No. Pressure from politicians closed the case," Ukyo answered. It was
obvious enough that Tokyo gangs had pulled strings to cover their tracks.

Ranma just shook his head. He knew how much influence he could have
in the government in Osaka if he so chose. It was sick to think the same
allowed yakuza to get away with the murder of innocents.

"What are you going to do now?" Ukyo asked. She surprised herself with
that question. It was so easy to forget that Ranma was still the Don of
Osaka.

The beginnings of a plan formed in Ranma's head. He was not sure how
we would do it, but Ukyo was right. It was not enough simply to kill those
responsible for Akane's death. All yakuza everywhere had to die.

"I'm going to make a bigger difference. A Japan that would allow Akane's
murderers to go unpunished is unacceptable to me. The yakuza of Japan,
no, all of Japan must change to prevent this from happening again."
Ranma lifted his gaze from the ground and looked Ukyo in the eye. She
saw the change in him, from desperation to determination.

"Why does Japan need to change? Because one person died?"

"No." It was too easy to say now, even to the one it would hurt the most to
hear it. "Because I loved her."

There was an awkward silence. Ranma confirmed what Ukyo already
knew: she had wasted the eighteen years of her childhood striving for an
unreachable dream. She closed her eyes, trying to prevent tears from
flowing.

"Are you going to let me arrest you?" she asked.

Finally, a tear dripped down her cheek, and she opened her eyes again.
He was gone.
____________________________

Nabiki closed the door to her apartment and twisted the bolt. After a
moment of thought she chained the door as well. It probably would not
help if someone really wanted to come after her, but it would at least help
her mind. She dropped her briefcase and her overcoat in the kitchen and
headed straight for her bedroom. She really wanted a shower.

Ever since she sent Ryoga on his manhunt, Nabiki had been seeing things
in the dark. A bump or the click of a door shutting always distracted her
from her work or whatever she was doing. One did not mess with yakuza
dons. She caressed the little finger of her left hand. She was not prepared
to pay the customary price.

A breeze from an open window felt cool on her forehead. Her worry had
her sweating in the winter. She walked over to the other side of the bed to
close and latch the window shut. As an afterthought, she looked up and
down through the glass at the building to ensure there were no bungee
chords or whathaveyou gimmicks for people to sneak into her room. There
were none.

Nabiki discarded her heels into a corner and began to hastily undo the
buttons of her blouse before a mirror. The shirt and the skirt that
accompanied it were tossed onto the bed. She noticed a long run in her
stockings and growled in frustration. Not much later, she was luxuriating in
her shower.

Nabiki rested her head against the wall as the warm water washed away
the day's stress. She yawned heartily. Business over the past two weeks
was good. She had mastered just the right combination of hardball and
delicacy. Private detectives and investigators were beginning to
understand that they needed to work for her if they wanted to work at all,
and clients were starting to realize that she was the best.

Nabiki yawned again. She needed to get some sleep. She wrapped a
towel around herself and returned to her bedroom. Ryoga had not
contacted her since he left for Osaka. She supposed it was a little stretch
to hope that he could find the city this fast, much less Ranma, but the boy
had left before she could at least point him in the right direction.

She settled back into bed. One of the conveniences of living a
bachelorette life was that she could go to sleep wearing just a towel. She
rubbed her legs together. That is, if it were not so cold. The forced air
heaters had not yet had a chance to completely warm the room to a
decent temperature.

Her mind wandered again to how the stupid window got opened. She
supposed the difference in air pressure between the inside and outside of
the high building might have blown the window open. Still, the window
opened inward, and she was sure she had locked it. She opened her
eyes.

Ranma stepped out of the shadows and into the glow cast by the
bathroom light.

"We need to talk."
____________________________

Nodoka put the clean dishes away to their proper places. The kitchen
remained spotless as it had for so many years. She looked around.
Everything was in place, yet something felt wrong. It was as it always had
been. A single setting at the dining table, very few dishes to wash, and no
one to share her home with. It was as it had been for the past four years,
and for sixteen years before that. Her thoughts turned to her son, as they
had always done when she was alone.

The giggling of a newborn baby had first filled her humble home with light
and laughter, but that had been taken away from her. Yet she still
cherished those memories and the more recent memories of 'Ranko' and
her grown up son. She missed her family, there was no doubt about that,
but she would live each day at a time with her pleasant memories.

A sharp knock interrupted her reverie. It had been a long time since she
had visitors, especially at this time of night. Nodoka dried her hands, and
went to the door.

Her visitor was no stranger to her. He was always with her, but he had
changed. Four years had deprived him of his boyish looks, and his eyes
showed cold determination. The corners of his eyes were turned slightly
downward, and she could still see marks where tears had threatened to
fall. He wore the same red shirt and black pants, and yet had grown much.
There was silence, though not uncomfortable. He had come to see her
again, but clearly his thoughts were elsewhere.

"Mother, it's been a long time."

She just smiled in response. She blinked a few times to prevent tears from
clouding her vision.

"Will you be staying?" She had to ask, even though she already knew the
answer.

"I can't mom, I wish � there's � something I have to do."

He was still a young boy. Yet he bore some unknown burden. He was no
longer the carefree schoolboy she had come to know just years before.

"I need to set things right." The look of determination crossed his face
again. Yes, there was something else.

"And you will, my son, you will." She took his hands into her own, and
looked them over. Would she ever have him back for her own, or would he
be taken from her again?

Nodoka rose and signaled for her son to follow. She knelt before the
family shrine and gently lifted the ancient weapon that lay before it.


She looked at her son and stood up. The tears flowed freely now. She was
neither happy nor sad, but simply did not know what to feel. She held her
son to her, and kissed his forehead ever so lightly.

"This is our family sword, and I, as its keeper, present it to you. Be
righteous and honorable and you will always succeed," Nodoka repeated.
They were the very same words spoken to her by her father-in-law.

Ranma looked up at his mother and studied her face as if to burn it one
last time into his memory. Nodoka looked at her son, and nodded.

As quietly as he had come, he departed, disappearing into the night.

Nodoka looked around. She was once again, alone.
____________________________

Ranma watched the last lights in the Tofu residence turn out for the night.
So this was where Kasumi and Mr. Tendo lived. After he discovered that
the Tendo dojo had been abandoned, it was not very difficult to find this
place. It was too true that others could find it too.

He hopped the short compound wall and stepped through the moist grass
to the edge of the house. There, she was waiting for him, and it had taken
him this long to summon the strength to return. It had taken too long. He
opened his mouth to begin, but needed an extra moment before he could
say what he needed to.

"Akane." Ranma half-smiled. It was not as hard as he thought it would be,
but now that he had started, he was not sure how to proceed. As the
emotions returned, he blinked a tear from his eye.

"I'm sorry." He closed both eyes in a vain effort to prevent tears from
running down his face. When he opened them, his blurred vision forced
him to flush the drops.

"I'm sorry I waited. I'm sorry I waited to give you this." He opened a small
box that he had brought with him. The glint of the golden ring reflected the
moonlight. It was to have been hers at high school graduation. He placed
it on the ground.

Ranma retreated a few steps and leapt from the garden. He had to get
back to Osaka. In the morning, Kasumi would find it and wonder who had
left it there.
____________________________

Not far away, a man hung from his arms in a poorly lit basement. The
chord that held his wrists dug into his skin. His shirt had been stripped
away, and sweat poured from his face and neck to his naked chest.

"Please kill me," he whispered. The two guards in business suits whom he
begged made no response.

The latch clicked open. The fourth man who joined them stood a full head
taller than the two guards and was eye to eye with his suspended
prisoner, though his were shielded behind dark glasses. His hair cut short
and gruff chin made him rather unremarkable, except that everyone who
knew him wished they did not.

"Fujimori, we meet again."

"Nagasaki." The name was spoken with a mix of awe and terror. The
captive summoned a hidden store of momentary resolve and spit in
Nagasaki's face.

"Fujimori, my friend," Nagasaki began, closing his eyes and wiping his
cheek with his handkerchief. "You haven't paid your protection dues."

"Just let me go. I don't want or need any protection."

"Oh, yes, you do," Nagasaki replied, as-a-matter-of-factly.

"From who?"

"From me."

Fujimori just stared back. There was little else he could do. His lips
quivered slightly. Nagasaki reached into his coat and pulled out a pistol.
He pressed it hard into Fujimori's forehead and pulled the trigger.

The chamber clicked empty, and Fujimori was not sure if he should feel
relief of despair. Nagasaki just chuckled and replaced his weapon.

"Sorry. Not gonna let you off that easy." Nagasaki retrieved a scalpel from
a side-pocket. He looked over Fujimori for a suitable location and began to
carve. Fujimori gritted his teeth at first but could not prevent himself
from
wincing.

"Very good," appraised Nagasaki of both Fujimori's silence and his blood
calligraphy of the four kana that composed his signature in the center of
his prisoner's chest. It would never be enough evidence for the police to
arrest him, but it would be enough to keep the rest of the community at
bay. Nagasaki exchanged the scalpel for a thinner, longer blade. He
grinned and began to describe his torture as he proceeded.

"My first cut will be here." He paused to insert the tool partially into
Fujimori. "A puncture would in your back, behind your heart. As soon as
the external wound scabs over, the blood leaking from the internal injury
will be trapped in the area surrounding your heart. Each beat will leak
more blood until your heart is crushed under its own fury.

"My second and third cuts will be through your lungs. Air will collect
through the puncture in your abdomen. Each breath you take will pump
more air into the cavity and make the next one more difficult. As your body
starves of oxygen, your heart will beat faster in vain effort to
compensate."

Fujimori gasped and shivered as each surgical perforation behaved
exactly as predicted. Nagasaki grinned. Fujimori was almost broken, but
not yet. He would last until one final cut, not of his body, but of his
mind.

"And in your dying moments, Fujimori, I want to assure you that though
you must be punished, our family will be well taken care of. We will make
sure that your infant son in the hospital is never lacking, or ever again
needing any expensive medications, and that your wife and teenage
daughter are always able to earn their livelihoods by each night
performing first in my bed and then in that of every lowly yakuza grunt in
all of Tokyo. Good bye, Fujimori."

As his guard shut to door to the room, Nagasaki smiled and trotted up the
stairs. Fujimori had chosen to use his last breath to curse Nagasaki. The
curses continued for sometime, each undoubtedly more painful to Fujimori
than the last. He would be the agent of his own torture. Nagasaki wished
he could stay here to relish the dying gasps of his victim, but he had
somewhere else to be.

"Ah, so you found the place? I trust all is well?" Nagasaki greeted his
guest.

"Very. That's why I'm here," came the calculated reply.

Nagasaki smiled. The man had not changed. "Mr. Garumin, welcome back
to Tokyo. What can I do for you?"
____________________________

Ryoga woke. Ranma hovered over him. It had been a very long wait,
unable to move for a full eighteen hours, but Ryoga had not slept very
much since he left home. With nothing else to do, sleep had come easy.

Ranma looked down at Ryoga for a moment before rolling him halfway
over to reach a pressure point on his spine. Ryoga's body shuddered as
the nerve signals that his brain had been attempting to send all this time
finally arrived.

"You're awake," Ranma noted.

"I want to go home now. I've been away from Akari too long," said Ryoga,
sitting up. He stretched his back out and shook his hands loose.

"Akari?"

"My wife." Two and a half weeks were more than he bargained for.

"Congratulations. I need you to go to Hong Kong."

"What?" Ryoga was confused.

"I need you to go to Hong Kong," Ranma repeated.

"What for?"

"I figured out how to avenge Akane."

"Then do it." Ryoga wanted no part in this.

"I'm going to wipe out the yakuza from Japan." Ranma looked down at his
hands. "And I need your help, Ryoga."

"Ranma, I have, I have moved on. I have Akari to worry about."

"Moved on?" Ranma swung and knocked a pencil-holder off his desk.
"Just yesterday you were ready to kill me!"

"That's different. Now you're there to take care of it." Ryoga slid off the
table and stood up.

"Fine." Ranma strode up to Ryoga. "I'll do it. When I fail, my body will be
shredded and sprinkled across Japan, but I'll do it. And next time someone
you love, maybe Akari, is attacked or killed by yakuza, you won't be able
to blame it on me because at least I tried."

Ryoga clenched his fist. There was no way Ranma could know what had
happened to Akari before, or was there?

"But if you help me," Ranma continued, "Then we'll win, and what
happened to Akane will never happen to anyone again."

Ryoga's gaze lifted from the floor. If this could be done, then the future
safety of his family was worth another month or even longer away from
Akari. "What do I do in Hong Kong?"
____________________________

Ranma strode into the meeting room. The subsidiary heads of both Ifura
and Ashikaga had already assembled. They stood to greet her. She
paused briefly in the doorway and took her place at the head of the table.
She wore her Chinese red and black instead of the waitress uniform she
used to. The yakuza bosses could not miss the large katana strapped
across her back.

"Please sit," she instructed while remaining standing. Some of the men
had brought assistants with them who remained standing along the wall.
No doubt they were all armed. Ranma specifically told Kaburi that
searching everyone was unnecessary. They had all seen or heard what
happened the day before. No one would try to shoot her.

Ryoga's arrival and the revelation of Ranma's martial prowess had not
been bad timing however. The few pathetic insurrections that Garumin
had provoked had allowed Ranma to weed out those yakuza that were too
unfaithful to be trusted. It was unfortunate that Garumin escaped just
when his usefulness expired. It mattered no longer. She would kill him
eventually.

"I am the head of both the Ifura and Ashikaga syndicates," Ranma began.
"It has been two months since the two groups joined yet you still act as
two separate organizations."

It was still true. Even while the undisputed don of Osaka spoke, the
yakuza bosses seated at the table did not take their eyes from those
across for very long. None of the yakuza would actually initiate a fight
without an order from Ranma, but each was sure that only fear prevented
the other side from doing so.

"I want to first tell you that I trust you, and I want you to trust each
other."
They were not buying it. Guns or no guns, they knew that she could still
flatten them at her whim.

She tried a different approach. "Garumin is gone. He fled yesterday, and
this morning, two more subsidiary heads, both Ifura, have left Osaka. With
them are the last of the traitors. The men you see before you are men of
honor, men of their word. Those that might have betrayed you are no
longer in Osaka or are already dead."

This time when her group leaders looked back across the table, it was with
a different purpose. Slowly the suspicion gave way to examination. She
guessed that each man was wondering if she was right. Now was the time
to strike while the iron was hot.

"I want the two syndicates to swear brotherhood to each other and join
forces as a new organization with the full strength of Osaka." Ranma
watched the faces of the subsidiary heads. She could see the expressions
change as they understood what she meant. Still, none moved
immediately.

Murata, once the manager of the restaurant, was the first to stand. He was
wearing a brand new and expensive suit. As manager of the dock ward,
he had been very successful. He dipped into his suit and withdrew a pistol.
Ranma was surprised that the once business-minded Murata would be
carrying a piece himself.

"I swear brotherhood to Ashikaga," he said, placing his weapon on the
table in front of him. It only took a brief silence to mobilize the rest.
The
Ashikaga heads did not wish to be outdone and hurried to make their
oaths and peace offerings. Ranma nodded in approval when all was done.

"From now on we all trust each other. No plans of mine will be secret. Do
not be afraid to ask any questions. I will give you the answer if I have
it,"
Ranma began to lay down the groundwork of her new syndicate.

"Miss Karuma, I'll ask a question." It was Miss Tenuri. She stood behind
Murata against the wall. "Now that you have control of Osaka, what are
you going to do now? What are _we_ going to do now?"

Ranma looked at her intently. For someone who seemed to hate getting to
the point, she had sliced directly to the issue at hand. Ranma turned to the
rest of the group.

"Conquer all of Japan."
____________________________

Cast of Characters (in order of appearance):

Fujimori - a victim of Nagasaki
Nagasaki - a subsidiary head of the Tokyo syndicate
____________________________

To be continued...

Comments and Criticism are welcome and hoped for.

sriranga@bigfoot.com
vinitav@bigfoot.com


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