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-- Attached file included as plaintext by Ecartis --
-- File: LC1A.txt

Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to

her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. The story below is

for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially.

...Obviously.





"Learning Curve"

        Part I



by:   jbw@wpi.edu





    The cold wind blew through the city, as the darkened sun set.

Admiring the view over the buildings, if only in passing, a young man

sighed, taking in the image. It would begin to snow soon, he knew,

like a now instinctive warning claxon from deep within his

subconscious. It was going to be biting, probably mixed with sleet...

but it wouldn't be rain. If it wasn't rain, weather was really of no

concern to him. Shrugging the weight off his shoulders slightly, and

adjusting his well work cloak, the man hissed a silent and foreign

curse between his lips, and kept walking. Shelter for the night would

be preferable to simply keeping going, as he had the last two days,

without sleep, especially in light of the coming storm. Checking the

skyline, and the nearest buildings, he snarled. If he was where he

suspected he was...



    Finding what looked to be a somewhat knowledgeable passerby, he

bowed his head slightly in difference, and took an educated guess,

"<Excuse me, but where am I now? Which city?>



    The man paused, giving the questioning man in the heavy wool cloak

and oversized backpack a disbelieving look. He was, obviously, a

foreigner due to the accent, though his grasp of the language was

excellent. But, how could anyone not know where, at least generally,

they were? Briefly toying with the idea that this was some kind of

practical joke or the like, the man finally decided to play along, and

shrugged,"<Moscow. Why?>"



    "<Moscow... that's what I was afraid of. This may sound unusual...

but which way to Tokyo, Japan?>"



    The man pointed in the general direction of east, "<East. That

way.>"



    The cloaked foreigner seemed serious, and lowered his head a bit

more, letting dark, heavy bangs cascade over his eyes, obscuring them

behind a veil of black. The wind kicked up again, and the ends of the

stranger's orange and black striped bandanna flittered slightly over

his tip of shoulder, "<Thank you very much.>"



    There was a tangible feeling of depression and darkness, just

then, prompting the man to dismiss any thoughts of this being a joke.

Quickly excusing himself, he left the foreigner behind at an almost

desperate pace. Watching him go, Ryouga Hibiki narrowed his eyes in

silent, burning frustration. Heading east would have to wait until

morning. He was still in mainland Asia... this came as both a relief

and as a blow to his pride. How could he have wandered halfway to

Europe and not known it?! Sure... the nights had been getting longer,

and the terrain and weather colder. And the people...



    "Kuso," he finally decided on. Self-loathing, while a popular

Hibiki pass-time, wasn't productive at the moment, either as a

motivational factor, or simply as something to pass the time between

time zones pondering over. He had to find shelter, and this far into

Russia, only Rubles would do, no matter how devalued they were. The

only other option being American currency, which he kept for

emergencies because it was accepted almost everywhere, but the current

exchange rate was a mystery, and Ryouga didn't like his chances of

being cheated out of his backup cash.



    'Running away,' a small accusing voice hissed, before being

summarily ignored. So he walked, randomly, though the streets. The

city had a vibrant nightlife that was, just now, coming out in numbers

to dominate the alleys and streets of Moscow. Then, Ryouga saw it - a

Dojo. Well... actually, it was a Systema Hall, going by the sign, only

ten minutes away from closing. Challenging the master, traditionally,

for a day's stay or some food was part and parcel of the mystique and

lifestyle of the traveling martial artist. Deciding this was the best

he was going to get, Ryouga stepped inside, his eyes taking in the

layout instantly; his stance adjusting slightly for any possible

attacks from any of the remaining students. Adjusting his gloves, and

smiling, Ryouga decided to stay a few days. Systema was a very

flexible and powerful school... it would be useful when the time came

for fulfillment.



    ...And for revenge.



    The battle was brief, and Ryouga decided to spend the next day

observing the school's best students as they sparred. It was a welcome

and productive distraction from the past... from the duel. As a lull

in the action came, despite his best efforts, Ryouga felt his mind

wander onto where it all went wrong. Or right, depending on one's

point of view. It had begun over a few months ago, back in Japan. He

had returned to Nerima after two weeks of training, alone, in the

mountains - the journey had been difficult, and the hardships great.

It had been an emotional and physical peak, then, almost like a high.

It had taken another week and a half, wasted, to get back to Tokyo,

and by that time...



    Clenching his fist, Ryouga closed his eyes in shame.



    By that time, Ranma had been training with Cologne in the

Amaguriken. He hadn't had a chance, of course, so in retrospect his

humiliation wasn't as great, but retrospective analysis never dulled

the pain, or the anger, or the raw seething rage. If only... Ryouga

stopped himself before that thought could complete itself. If the mind

wanted to dip into that barrel of excuses, it may as well start with

'If only Ranma had showed up for our duel.' Or 'If only Ranma had...

no, if only I had been more careful.' Or as far as 'If only I hadn't

played as P-chan for so long.' It was, ultimately, a futile and

fruitless exercise in frustration and anger; two things Ryouga knew he

already had in terrible abundance. Still, Ryouga admitted, watching

the students watching the sensei, did not a wise man say, 'Learn from

the past?'



    Damn him, if he wasn't right.



~The Past~



    "I'm ready to go whenever you are," Ryouga shouldered his pack,

and looked around the interior of the Nekohanten. The dinner crowd had

long since left, and the place was empty, except for Shampoo, who

seemed to be cleaning the cafe table. Cologne had told him to wait,

and given his propensity for getting lost, and more importantly, his

desire to avenge his earlier humiliation the results of which would

undoubtedly lie in whatever the old bat had to teach, Ryouga wasn't

eager to test his luck. The waiting and the silence weren't a problem,

really; he was more than used to them - they were more like parents

than his actual parents, wherever they were. The last he'd heard, his

father thought his mother was somewhere in Australia, while he himself

had business in New York.



    "Where you and great grandmother going, anyway?"



    "Eh?" the question came from the cafe, and Ryouga opened one eye,

as if the speaker really needed visual confirmation. Shampoo asked

again, before he answered, simply, "Training."



    Ryouga paused, before adding, "To defeat Ranma."



    "Stupid pig-boy never beat Airen."



    "She'd only train me if she thought I had a chance of beating

Ranma. You should know that," Ryouga returned. Shampoo was

conspicuously silent.



    "Besides. You're too weak to form an educated opinion. Ranma beat

you by accident," Ryouga's brows furrowed, as he bit back the anger,

even if she was currently 100% right on the issue. He could feel her

glare on him, but ignored it when the faint tap-tap of Cologne's

walking (hopping?) stick signaled the ancient Amazon's entrance.

Pushing off from the wall with his shoulders, eyes still closed, he

was silent. Cologne watched him adjust the pack on his shoulders with

practiced ease and go through some unknown mental preparations.



    "Watch the store while we're gone, Shampoo," she spoke over her

shoulder, "I'll only be gone a week or so."



    "You really going train lost boy?" Shampoo, still angry over being

called 'weak,' decided to press the issue, "He probably get lost on

way there."



    Ryouga growled under his breath, and Shampoo continued, "Shampoo

come, too. Help keep lost boy not lost."



    More importantly, Shampoo thought to herself, was to learn

whatever he was going to learn. It wouldn't do for people to go around

thinking she was weak.... Besides, if Ryouga thought that of her,

Ranma probably did too.



    "I don't need your help!" the lost boy in question snarled.



    "A fine idea, Shampoo. Get your things; we can wait a few

minutes."



    "She won't get in the way, will she?" Ryouga didn't need to add

that he was referring to the inevitable fight between Ranma and

himself. He had seen Shampoo doting over Ranma before, and it had

interrupted their skirmishes before. This one was the most important

to date - taking Shampoo along was a risk.



    "Are you saying you'd be unable to deal with that?" Cologne

answered in a roundabout way, and Ryouga huffed in obvious dismissal.

The ancient Amazon smiled at that. A poke at male pride could

accomplish more than a thousand blows to the cranium... in most cases.

Taking Shampoo along was actually looking more and more like a good

idea: she would provide additional motivation. Ryouga had as much

pride as her son-in-law, and he would do anything to avoid looking

weak in front of any girl, even one he had no connection to, like

Shampoo. Furthermore, Shampoo could cook; freeing her from having to

do so, and it might even encourage her great granddaughter to

rededicate herself to the Arts of her tribe.



    Shampoo was an excellent and skilled warrior, the finest of her

generation, but Cologne had noticed an obvious and disturbing dip in

her skills since she left the village to pursue the pig-tailed girl

who was actually a pig-tailed boy. Almost certainly, it was due to her

reversal from revenge to love, and the lack of any serious opponent in

that respect. Akane Tendo was nowhere near skilled or strong enough to

fight Shampoo and win, additionally Shampoo had given up trying to

kill Ranma, and as a consequence, by the time she returned home in

disgrace, her skills had atrophied to the level they were at when she

turned 15, well over a year ago. The training at Jyusenkyo had been

essentially a disaster, and had cemented Shampoo's decision to 'cut

down' on Cologne's recommended training regimen in favor of returning

to court Ranma, for which additional fighting skills were unnecessary.





    Worse was the Mousse situation. Damn that male... Cologne knew he

was fast, skilled, and strong enough to defeat Shampoo, and had been

for a little over two years, but he refused to do so. Her dislike for

him had only developed after she realized that he could beat Shampoo,

but never did so. It was a terrible insult, both to Shampoo and to

herself, that could not be ignored. His showing up recently only made

things worse. Shampoo, of course, felt she could defeat him in battle,

should the opportunity arise, and worked to drive home her

determination NOT to improve herself. Cologne would have cursed

silently at the situation, and almost did on occasion, because there

was no easy solution to the problem.



    What Shampoo needed was an appropriate rival, but Cologne had no

idea where to find one.



~The Present~



    "Saotome! Prepare to DIE!"



    "Aw, geez, man! Not again!" the martial artist in question, well

acquainted with that battle cry, jumped to the side as the ground

beneath him splintered and cracked. Twisting, he faced the young man

crouched below him, one hand's clenched fingers dug into the broken

asphalt, and the other behind his back. Fluidly, as he stood up, the

boy drew out a long, wide bladed weapon Ranma had become altogether

too familiar with the last few weeks. The razor's edge of the giant

spatula caught the light as the weapon's wielder smirked, and lowered

into a modified crouch, one hand forward.



    "Time to pay for your crimes, Saotome!"



    "I'm getting sick and tired of you attacking me!" Ranma landed

easily on the top of a nearby building, "What's your problem,

anyway?!"



    "You'll find out," the boy hissed between clenched teeth, and took

to the air, "Right before I send you to hell!"



    Ranma growled something under his breath, before rolling backwards

and avoiding losing his head to the unusual weapon. Keeping mobile, he

pushed off with the shoulder at the first opportunity. Looking over

his shoulder, only for a half second, he saw the still quivering

handle of a mini-spatula wedged cleanly halfway into one of the roof's

tiles where he had been headed prior to his misdirection. Spinning in

midair, arms out, he then deflected the next of the projectiles, and

pined down Ukyou's position where he was quickly readying another of

the things. Letting his inertia carry him, he extended his right leg -

hoping to end it this quickly was probably foolish, but a protracted

fight now, this early in the morning, would make the rest of the day a

real hassle.



    A wall of steel seemed to disagree.



    Landing on both feet, Ranma lowered his arms from the block,

silently cursing at the pain before dismissing it. Ukyou stood, his

giant spatula held in a post-strike pose, before quickly shifting into

a cross-handle attacking position. Ranma braced himself; he always

used that position to attack with his main weapon - in a way, it was

like fighting Kuno, except Ukyou was as skilled without his blade as

with. Making a split second decision to move in quick, and try to

disarm him, Ranma ducked at the last second, spun, and dug a sharp

elbow into his opponent, before reaching up and grabbing the handle of

the weapon itself.



    "Ha!" he felt a rush of confidence and power, as he gave the

weapon a hard jerk. Ukyou was good, but not as strong as he was - he

had no hope of winning now. He might as well give up and leave.

Bringing up his left leg to block a counter blow, Ranma amended that,

and returned one of his own, catching the boy in the lower ribs. Ukyou

gave a snarl, and another tug at the weapon, before seemingly closing

his eyes in defeat.



    "Good! Now give me the..." Ranma's voice became a squeak, as a

fist buried itself in a very... intimate part of his anatomy. Before

he could regain his bearings, he was airborne. The world was spinning,

but everything came into crystal clarity as his back made best friends

with a dozen roof tiles. Aside from that, he only wished that damn

ringing in his ears would clear up...



    "Give you what you deserve, Ranma?" Ukyou reversed his spatula in

his hands, leveling the sharpened edge to Ranma's body, "Don't mind if

I do!"



    And then the roof gave out.



    Ranma hit the ground with a thud; his attacker recovered instantly

and landed soundlessly on both feet. A tense second passed, and Ukyou

blinked at the two elderly people who had been having tea in their

living room, "Um... hi?"



    Ranma, however, would not be ignored, and a split second after the

words left Ukyou's mouth, his feet took their place, sending the

martial artist up and out of the hole in the roof. Ukyou knew what was

next - she was in the air, and the air was indisputably Ranma's

domain. The panic came quickly, and left just as quickly.

Reorientation identified where the ground was, and it was close. Then,

without preamble, the blows rained down to the chorus of, "Kachuu

Tenshi Amaguriken!"



    Ukyou hit the hard ground on his side, fighting back the urge to

pass out, and looked up. Ranma was standing there, hurt and angry,

yes, but mostly gloating and arrogant. This battle was over, and they

both knew it. Silence would have been preferable - the silence of the

humble victor, but that thought died as Ranma's mouth curved into a

smile, and the inevitable left his lips, "Why do you keep doing this,

anyway? I always win."



    *What point is there?*



    "Liar," Ukyou snarled, slowly getting back to his feet. The smile

on Ranma's face faded like cheap ink in the ocean, and Ukyou knew,

then, that though the battle had been lost, the war was only

beginning. ...That there would be a reckoning.



    *What point is there? What else: to SPITE him!*



    "You don't know what you're talking about," came the response.



    "You are a liar and a thief. And this isn't over, Saotome. Not by

a long shot," Ukyou stepped back, over the edge of the roof, and was

gone. Ranma winced at the pain from this last encounter - he'd NEVER

expected another guy to do that to him, even in a fight. What kind of

a man hit below the belt, anyway?



    "What the hell happened to you, Ukyou?" Ranma spoke far too softly

for anyone to hear, turned, and made himself scarce.



    The landing had been hell, but Ukyou shrugged off the pain.

Brushing a hand by her side, she checked to make sure that nothing was

broken, and didn't hide her relief when she found no permanent damage.

It was small compensation for her defeat; she HAD the bastard... then

she had gotten distracted. And, a small part of her whispered, she had

hesitated. It was probably natural, and truthfully, she knew that she

would when the time came, but it was unnerving nonetheless. How could

more than ten years of toil and work end in her standing over him and

then ignoring the momentousness of the moment to talk to two old

people?



    "Stupid," she leaned against the front door of 'Ukyou's Bar and

Grill.' The whole thing was stupid...



    "Hmm?" she blinked at the mailbox, standing impassively in front

of the door.  Shrugging, she reached in and was rewarded by a handful

of papers and a single package, most of which were dismissed after a

half-second review. She kept the phone bill separate - she'd check

that one more carefully later - and the second to last one. Staring at

it for a second, looking over all the stamps and the strange writing

on the otherwise plain brown-wrapped package, she wavered between

opening it outright, or waiting.



    Grinning, she tucked it under her arm.



    She had a call to make first.



~The Past.~



    Ryouga fell to the ground a crumpled, crushed heap. The battery

acid tang of blood was, by now, a familiar taste in his mouth, but he

spat it out nonetheless. Gasping, he decided a little humor wouldn't

hurt, "Out with the old... ugh."



    'Damn. I really wanted to finish that sentence, too,' he thought,

as his body somehow found the strength to roll over onto its back.

High above, mockingly, that damn boulder swayed back and forth.

Dotting it like streaks of new age paint were blotches of blood, the

newer ones a dark crimson in the cold night air, the older ones from

yesterday a shade of black. Ryouga saw a sick timeline in those

splatters of himself high above. Were they a testament to his

determination... or his stupidity?



    'See the Breaking Point with your mind, not your eyes.'



    Closing his eyes, Ryouga only saw the last few hours, over and

over again. Silently, he hoped that his dreams wouldn't be like this,

despite the fact that he knew better. Every impact he had dared to

close his eyes on, to try and ignore, to try and shy from, would come

back and haunt him a hundredfold when he slept. And they would keep

coming until he no longer feared that barely audible whine, that creek

in the ropes holding them both above the ground, and that sudden 'pop'

of air right before several tons of solid rock tried to turn you into

gut jam.



    It was then that he realized it.



    "H... h... hungry!"



    The woods didn't seem to care, so Ryouga silently cursed them to

hell (They can join Saotome there, as far as he was concerned). While

he was on that subject, he carefully pointed out and documented, for

future reference, everything in a ten-mile radius that would also be

cursed to hell. Foremost among them that damn boulder, that damn old

Ghoul, and that worthless...



    "You hungry?"



    'Kami bless you, Shampoo,' Ryouga thought as he coughed, to try

and get his voice back. Standing over him, he saw Shampoo. She was

hardly dressed as flamboyantly as usual, or even in the traveling

clothes she had worn yesterday. Replacing all that was a simple black

shirt (though it had some odd white dots on it here and there) and

pants. He also noted that she didn't offer her hand to help him up.



    "Very hungry," he rolled back, fluidly, onto his feet and into an

upright standing position. The pain was rapidly fading, as his body

and his ki went to work subconsciously. He knew, from experience,

that, by morning, after some food - almost any food (he was used to

living on dry rations and instant noodles once every two days) he

would be ready to begin anew the torture and masochism of learning the

Bakusai Tenketsu.



    "Is good," she turned, and he followed. It was a short walk,

relatively, into the clearing where the Amazons had made camp. There

was a stream running by with fish, and Ryouga growled inwardly at it.

Mornings he spent trying to increase his speed and hand-eye

coordination trying to catch the fish without getting wet. It was

totally infuriating, especially after his curse activated for the

fortieth time earlier in the day. In a way, he preferred the physical

pain of that damn boulder slamming into him than the simple and

undeniable frustration of the river.



    Ignoring the water, something the Jyusenkyo cursed would consider

akin to ignoring a snarling beast on your front porch, Ryouga took in

the rest of the camp. It was plush, given what he was used to. The old

ghoul wasn't around, but who knew what that dried up old woman did

with her time anyway? His pack was lying against a large rock, where

he had left it earlier, providing a quick sense of relief that it

hadn't been lost. Some days, it seemed like he lost that backpack a

dozen times a week. There was also a large fire crackling, filling the

area with a gentle glow, and a large metal pot over it promising

something that was at least cooked. Idly, he realized he had no idea

what time it was, and then dismissed it. Time here was relative

anyway. Sitting down in front of the fire, Ryouga felt a sense of calm

and serenity, and savored it - it was such a rare feeling, simply to

let the body and the tension melt away.



    "What a day," he inhaled deeply, and smelt the food. Sighing, he

did so again as Shampoo handed him a bowl.



    "Is plain ramen," she said, simply.



    "It... it smells good, Shampoo. Arigato," Ryouga gave a weak

smile, before beginning to eat. It may have been plain ramen, but it

was good. It was only about five seconds into eating that he realized

he hadn't checked to make sure it wasn't drugged. He regretted it at

first, given what he'd heard and some of what he'd witnessed, then

paused before he said anything. Shampoo seemed to be eating it herself

from her own bowl without any hesitation, so, in one of his brighter

moments, Ryouga kept quiet and decided if the food was drugged, he'd

just end up drugged.



    Seconds, and thirds followed in short order by the time Shampoo

had finished her first helping. Ryouga didn't then, or before,

consider himself greedy - one simply got what food one could, when one

could, regardless. To his exhausted body it was as matter of survival

now, as it was back when... back when he had showed up to the school

cafeteria, broken and hungry, so often back in his younger days. He

hadn't nearly been as good back then at hunting, salting, and

preserving meats as he was now. Then, there was just the hunger, the

food, and Ranma.



    "Damn Ranma," he couldn't help but growl, but kept it low. No need

to make Shampoo protective... if she attacked him in his current

state, it wouldn't be pretty. It also wouldn't be good for his

training schedule.



    "Hmm?" she looked up from the empty pot, obviously a little

annoyed, and just as obviously (except to Ryouga) a little pleased

that, for once, someone ate her food without asking if it was drugged,

or if it came with favors attached. That kind of stuff was really the

domain of that crazy Kuno girl, and Akane's mercenary older sister, at

least in Shampoo's limited worldview. Ryouga seemed a little nervous,

before inching back against the truck of a tree and relaxing notably.



    "Nothing," he sighed, and closed his eyes, "Goodnight, Shampoo.

...Thanks again for the food."



    Shampoo just blinked, once, and shook her head.



~The Present~



    Inside the restaurant, at the grill, Ukyou checked the clock for

the third time. Looking over the remaining people in the place; only

two couples staying late after eating, given the lateness of the hour,

she relaxed. The grill was cold now, but she wasn't in 'disguise,' and

had let her hair down and dressed in her much more comfortable cooking

clothes. Ranma had, about a week ago, walked in on her like this and

asked if 'Ukyou had a sister?' He hadn't shown his face here since,

for obvious reasons. The memory still boiled her blood, and she shook

it off with practiced ease. Her 'brother' would take it out on the

pig-tailed brat tomorrow. So absorbed in alternating thoughts of

vengeance and annoyance, Ukyou hadn't noticed Shampoo until she was

right in front of the grill.



    "Hey! Spatula-girl!"



    Ukyou sighed, "Oh... its you, beachball-girl."



    Shampoo smirked, "You were calling me, not other way around. What

this surprise, Ukyou?"



    "I got a package. 'Thought you'd like to open it when I do,

sugar."



    "Package from Lost-boy?" Shampoo shook her head a bit, "From

Ryouga?"



    "Yep. You haven't been practicing your Japanese, have you? You

know, if you just went to school...."



    "Shampoo doing fine on her own! Maybe you try speak fluent

mandarin in less than two months. See how good you do."



    "Mousse did it," Ukyou added, deciding to have some fun with the

Chinese girl.



    "Stupid Mousse," Shampoo ended the subject then and there. Ukyou

shrugged, reached behind the counter, and took out a medium sized

plain brown-paper package. It was, however, covered in a number of

stamps most of which looked totally foreign to both girls. The return

address wasn't even in anything recognizable. Taking one of her mini-

spatulas, Ukyou opened it carefully. There were three smaller boxes,

all neatly laid out, also wrapped, and on top of that, a single folded

postcard.



    "Is defiantly from Ryouga," Shampoo said, and Ukyou just nodded.

Ryouga was one of the neatest and most organized people either girl

had ever seen - he somehow knew where everything in that massive pack

he carried was, and it was a miracle of topography that he was able to

fit everything in there in the first place. Shampoo reached down and

picked up the postcard. It was a picture of Ryouga, leaning casually

on his umbrella, in front of a line of large gray tanks of some sort.

A building with twisting spires dominated the background, "Wow. Lost

boy really lost this time."



    "Open it," Ukyou urged. She knew Shampoo couldn't read perfect

Japanese, and she also knew better than to say so. Deciding quickly,

Ukyou started reading out loud.



    "Ukyou, Shan Pu, I hope this letter finds you both in good health

and high spirits. Ukyou, I hope you've been giving Saotome back at

least some fraction of the Hell he has inflicted on both of us while

keeping yourself safe. I wish I could be there to watch you fight him,

but I can only hope that your training prepared for the task at hand,

and that you are still able to take out your vengeance on his

worthless hide. Remember to watch out for his tricks! He'll do

anything... say anything to win! Shan Pu, I hope Mu Tzu hasn't been

annoying you as much now, and that those books I got you will help you

become more fluent in modern Japanese. You know I also wish you luck

in whatever you chose to do, even if it revolves around that damn

Ranma, and even if I fear it will only bring you heartbreak. But

please, try and keep the poisons and potions to a minimum - such is

not the way of a martial artist. Anyway, I am currently in <scratched

out> St. Petersburg. At least that's what the guy here told me.

Anyway, if this isn't St. Petersburg, then I suppose you won't get

this anyway. IF you get this package, then that means I was in St.

Pete's... yeah, that makes sense. I seem to be steadily heading

west... I think, and this damn compass you got me ('I got him,' Ukyou

points out.) doesn't seem to be helping that much. I'm going to try

and catch a plane to Hong Kong again, and from there to Tokyo. Wish me

luck. And inside you'll find some things I thought the two of you

might like. Sincerely, Ryouga Hibiki."



    Ukyou added, "PS: 'Damn it! This is all Ranma's fault!'"



    "Shampoo see what he got her!" Shampoo picked out one of the

little boxes labeled 'Shan Pu' in mandarin, and opened it with gusto.

Ryouga sent them stuff every few weeks, and it was always a surprise

what they got. Back in the village, when she was young, Shampoo had

gotten New Year's presents, and usually something on her birthday, but

that had ended ten years ago. Ripping away the paper, she ended up

with a small box, the clear cover displaying some sort of computer.



    "It's a beeper," Ukyou said, matter-of-factly.



    "Beeper?"



    "Probably for your delivery routes. You know... it beeps, and you

get a message from someone about stuff."



    Shampoo expression spoke volumes... or the lack thereof.



    "Trust me, it can be pretty useful," Ukyou turned to her package,

and opened it neatly. Inside were several vacuum-sealed cans of

sturgeon caviar, and a note, "Roe Okonomiyaki?"



    "Is delicacy," Shampoo stated the obvious.



    "Could work, I guess," Ukyou picked up the last package, and

tested the weight: it was obviously a book, but was otherwise

unlabeled. Tearing off the paper, Ukyou saw the title and quickly

handed it to Shampoo, who looked at it for a second before speaking.



    "Is Russian. No can read," she shook her head.



    "Must be for his little collection here," Ukyou took it, "It'll

put it with the two Indian ones and the one in... er..."



    "Is Cantonese, if Shampoo remember."



    "Yeah. Cantonese," Ukyou put the book away, with the three others,

in the back of the kitchen behind the grill, "You know what this

means. He's actually trying to come back now. If he catches both

planes... a virtual impossibility, I know, but if he does, he could be

here in a week."



    "If only one, probably three weeks," Shampoo sighed, "Stupid lost

boy."



    "He can't wander Asia forever. Sooner or later he'll get lucky and

walk onto a ship or plane or something," Ukyou closed her eyes, "He

always gets to where he wants to go... eventually."



~The Past~



    "Again."



    Ryouga snarled in acceptance, ignoring his own nudity,

concentrating instead on the water. His fingers itched, oddly, as did

the muscles in his arms. Quickly, the fast flowing current resolved

into slow motion - the slow motion the world took on when there was

just survival and the fight. When the center was found, and the rest

of the universe devolved into another frame of mind. Leaning forward,

Ryouga's fists became streaks of motion, plunging into the water

faster than the eye could see, as down below, the fish just began to

panic and scatter at the intrusion. Their movements were like

molasses, however. The challenge was three fold, the first being the

coordination required to catch the fish without getting wet, the

second being to hold onto the fish and maintain a grip, again, without

getting wet, and the third being to drop the fish behind him while

still maintaining this level of speed.



    Before him, the water parted. Narrowing his eyes, Ryouga trust his

flattened palm again into the swirling vortex that was in front of

him. Droplets of water hung in the air, like an explosion of diamonds.

Mentally, Ryouga tracked them, even as he let his instincts guide his

hands through areas of already parted water, widening his palms ever

so slightly when needed to open new tunnels that would only last half

a second each. The fatigue, too, was looming over his body like a

specter, alternating between telling him to give up and urging to

rest. Of the two arguments, the second was, Ryouga knew, by far the

most deadly and dangerous. A rest, now, however tempting, would ruin

everything...



    Then, the tingle began in the base of his spine, and he cursed

mentally.



    He'd lost.



    "Bwee," the pig shook its head. Over him, though not much (she's

pretty damn short) Cologne sighed, emptying the kettle over him.

Hooves grew into hands, and the tiny pig expanded into the form of a

man, the yellow and black bandanna shifting during the transformation

from neck and shoulders to forehead.



    "Kuso," the naked Ryouga slumped over, hands carving furrows in

the ground.



    "The kettle's empty," Cologne said what he had already suspected,

and Ryouga nodded. She turned; giving him one last glance that sent

sick shivers up the back of the boy's neck, before hopping off.

Shaking some of the water from his head, Ryouga quickly toweled

himself off, and with all too practiced ease, got changed. His

clothes, at least, were dry. After the first day, Cologne had simply

suggested he take them off during this part of his training. It had

been embarrassing, naturally, and Ryouga had refused at first... but

in the end, it made sense. And, given that he'd undergone well over

thirty transformations in the last two hours, it was also more

convenient.



    He paled when he remembered that Cologne had offered to strip down

to make him more 'comfortable.'



    "Damn old hag," he grumbled, wringing out his bandanna, the one

item of clothing he kept on. Letting out a deep breath, he waited, and

let his strength return. It was noon, and Shampoo would come in a

minute or two to make sure he didn't get lost. Looking down at his

hands, he made a fist and realized the tingling was quickly fading

away. He'd need to actually hit Ranma to finish him with the Bakusai

Tenketsu...



    "Wait," Ryouga paused at that thought: A, slowly but surely made

its way to C, and found B in-between, "Why would that ancient harpy be

teaching me a technique that would destroy her beloved son-in-law?

...There's something else I'm missing, here."



    "Nihao," Ryouga heard from behind, as Shampoo leaned over his

shoulder, "Lost boy always talk to self?"



    "There usually isn't anyone else around to carry a conversation

with," Ryouga stood up, eager for what was to come, "And its 'Ryouga

Hibiki.' Not lost boy."



    "You lost all the time," Shampoo stated as she walked, and Ryouga

stammered, "You boy. You lost boy."



    "Fine. Be that way uh... Chinese... um... girl," Ryouga grumbled,

"Ah, never mind. What's for lunch?"



    Shampoo headed off through some bushes, opening up to the

campsite, and Ryouga followed, "Pork buns."



    "P...P... pork buns?!"



    "You no like pork?"



    "Do you like cat?" Ryouga rose a questioning eyebrow.



    Shampoo seemed to think about that for a second, before answering,

"Never eaten cat. Wouldn't know."



    "That's not... I mean..." Ryouga sat in front of the plate,

looking at the two steaming, and delicious smelling and looking items

of culinary preparation, "My curse is to turn into a pig, you know."



    "Shampoo know. So?" Shampoo didn't seem to follow.



    "You... remember when you tried to cook me?"



    "And serve you to Ranma," Shampoo remembered, and noted that

mentioning the pig-tailed martial artist caused Ryouga to flinch

slightly. Either that or it was the memory of that event.



    "That wasn't the first time it'd happened to me," Ryouga picked up

one of the buns, his self-righteousness warring with his hunger. His

voice remained cold, however, and he took a deep breath to calm

himself, "Not by a long shot, Shampoo. I've come close to dying in my

cursed form... close to being eaten... so many damn times. You

wouldn't understand the horror... the... the inhumanity of being

treated like potential food by other people."



    Shampoo was silent. She was bordering on asking if he wanted

something else, when he closed his eyes and took a bite out of the

first of the buns. As he ate, slowly, his bangs fell over his face,

obscuring his eyes. Between mouthfuls, he sighed, his voice still low

and cold, "Sorry...."



    "Why sorry? Shampoo should be sorry," Shampoo asked as he looked

up at her, green eyes distant.



    "You didn't know it was me. No one ever does," he looked back

down, "Not that it makes much of a difference. It must be nice being a

cat... unless I ended up in North Korea again. It wouldn't matter what

you turn into there."



    He let out a quick chuckle, and Shampoo felt some relief as his

mood lightened. He was dangerous, she knew from watching him fight

Ranma before, but that wasn't it really- when he was like that... the

depression and veiled anger was almost tangible. It was an emotional

relief to have it dissipate somewhat, and she decided to try and

encourage that, if for nothing else than her own mental well-being,

"Shampoo get caught once."



    "Caught?" Ryouga looked up again, his mouth full.



    "As stray," Shampoo took a quick bite out of one of the buns

herself, "Taken to animal-prison. Have to escape. Not get home for

days, because stuck as cat."



    Ryouga noted her smile, and gave a small one himself. A memory

like that would be just one more painful reminder of his curse, and

the tragedy that always seeped into his life, but Shampoo seemed to be

describing it as some kind of adventure. As something to remember, not

try to forget. It was... an odd concept, but Shampoo didn't seem to

live with depression much. Despite the fact that she was, pretty much,

somewhat of a loner. HHHe'd seen as much over the last few days. She

trained, apparently, mainly by herself, and she didn't seem to talk to

many people much. Mousse, from what he'd heard, she mainly smacked

around and tried to get away from. Ranma, she was too busy glomping to

talk to.



    "Well," he scratched the back of his neck, "Its not like you wear

a collar or anything."



    Shampoo laughed, and the two ate briskly. Ryouga finished his

second bun quickly, and ignored his stomach's complaints for more. The

Bakusai Tenketsu's training was next, and it wouldn't to for a full

stomach of food to try and withstand the impacts he'd soon be

receiving. A light lunch was preferable, and would tide him over until

dinner. Idly, an earlier thought made it to his mouth.



    "Shampoo... Are you training by yourself?"



    "Plan on training with Lost Boy in mornings, but..." she trailed

off, and Ryouga blushed a deep crimson.



    "Yeah," he settled on, too nervous to continue.



    "No can train with after, either. You always so weak and fall

asleep after dinner," Shampoo also finished eating, and stood up.

Ryouga noticed she was wearing similar clothes, except this shirt was

red, and came to the conclusion that it was almost certainly what she

trained in.



    "I've got some time before ...Cologne comes and drags me off to

dispatch," Ryouga shrugged, "I could give you a few pointers.

...You're not planning on attacking Akane, are you?"



    "Shampoo already stronger than violent girl," Shampoo smiled, and

Ryouga sighed.



    "Alright. So... Hey!" Ryouga jumped back as a quick kick passed by

his nose. Shampoo pulled her leg back and spun into a backhand that

Ryouga saw coming, and avoided. Shampoo's attacks were strong, he

knew, but not too quick in execution, and her style was actually

fairly raw. It wasn't a surprise that onna-Ranma had defeated her,

back at her village. The lost boy had fought with almost everyone in

Nerima at one point or another before Cologne came to Japan, to the

point where he could virtually fight Kuno blindfolded, and he'd seen

Shampoo fight on numerous occasions. Ducking under another kick he

pushed off with his toes, and landed softly half dozen feet away from

the attacking Amazon. One thought still worried him, "We're just

practicing, right? No Joketsuzoku rules or laws or anything involved?"



    "Great grandmother not around anyway," Shampoo shrugged, and moved

in to attack. Ryouga pivoted at the last second, casually avoiding her

fist. Her eyes caught his, that millisecond. Gone was the depression

from before, or even the anger. Replacing it was a softer version of

confidence that she had seen in Ranma's blue-gray eyes. Before she

could try and counter, Ryouga's elbow softly tapped into the back of

her head, just enough to feel it.



    "Shampoo," he simply said, his voice professional and calm as he

lowered his arm, "How much did your grandmother teach you?"



    "Great grandmother," Shampoo corrected, and lowered her arms too.

The spar was over. With full strength behind that elbow, Shampoo

suspected her head would have looked like a splattered tomato, "She

teach traditional weaponless and weapon armed fighting techniques.

Shampoo best in village."



    Ryouga was going to say it didn't say much for the village, but

held his tongue. He'd taught Akane Martial arts Rhythmic Gymnastics

before, and insults were rarely the right way to go about it. Unless

they were necessary, of course, "Anything else?"



    Shampoo thought about that, "Few other special things. Bonbori

weapon specialty. Sword techniques. Staff fighting. Martial Arts

Takeout..."



    "Martial Arts Takeout?" Ryouga seemed obviously skeptical.



    "Very similar to Martial Arts Masonry!"



    "Martial Arts Masonry?!" Ryouga didn't hide his skepticism this

time. ...Not that he really had last time, either.



    "Is where Bakusai Tenketsu come from," Shampoo held up a finger,

"Have attack called 'Blowout.' Destroys delivery by touch box."



    Ryouga's eyes narrowed. Shampoo was concentrating a small amount

of ki into her finger, just enough that he could feel it. Slowly, he

smiled. Things were quickly beginning to fall into place.



~The Present~



    Ryouga relaxed in the seat; folding his ticket into the pocket in

front of him. It had taken an extraordinary amount of luck getting to

the first plane. He had wandered into an airport, and after two days

had managed to find a flight to Hong Kong. Luckily, the airport had

been built on an artificial island, minimizing even his chances of

wandering off course. It had taken another two days of non-stop

walking and searching (and avoiding getting arrested) before he found

a flight to Japan. It wasn't Tokyo, but it would get him close to home

- which was what mattered. To a Hibiki, being a hundred miles from

home or being one mile hardly made a difference, the chance of finding

the place was the same. It was by necessity that the family had

literally thousands of frequent flier miles to their credit, and that

Ryouga had been able to cancel and recover the money from the flights

he missed.



    He was flying coach, so the meal was hardly very good, but

compared to what his stomach could handle and what his taste buds were

used to, it was still one of the better tasting meals he'd had.

Sighing, the lost boy looked out of the window at the rolling ocean

below. Contrary to what many believed, Ryouga did indeed know

geography. On a broad scale, he knew both a great deal about different

parts of the world, a lot of it from first hand experience, though, to

date, he'd never ended up in Africa or South America. The farthest off

course he'd been was somewhere around Berlin, in Europe, shortly after

first getting his curse at Jyusenkyo, which had subsequently taken him

to North America, and from there to the Philippines and then finally

to Japan. He'd touched on the Middle East once during this trip,

though not for very long. Thinking back, his mind clear of actually

finding the places, he went over this last adventure in futility and

escapism.



    Or was it simply a form of self-imposed penance?



    "No matter," he grumbled, as the man sitting next to him shifted

slightly while reading his newspaper. Ryouga sighed, and traced his

steps. After his little... situation, he'd hitched a ride on a ship to

South Korea. He'd tried to get back then, but ended up sneaking (see:

stumbling) across the border into North Korea, almost being shot to

hell in the attempt. Growling, Ryouga admitted it wasn't the first

time he'd ended up there, and it probably wouldn't be the last either.

It was one of the few countries he'd ended up in more than once in

which he had to actually watch out for military patrols attacking him

in the night. He'd hit the People's Republic next, Ryouga wasn't

totally sure exactly when he'd crossed the border, but mainly stuck to

the cities and ended up going south; he could see that now. It'd

undoubtedly been the longest, hardest part of the journey. He'd

trailed an American Tour group for a day, blending in by speaking

English, and had gotten through Xian and back on track south before he

ended up in Mongolia, which was both a good thing and a bad thing.

Cities were, for a Hibiki, a lot easier to get lost in than the

forests and jungles of the world, but on the other hand, it was a lot

easier to get a general idea of where you were when there were signs

and other people around. He'd been aiming for Jyusenkyo, in Quinghai,

and the chance of a cure, but obviously missed it entirely.



    "Big surprise there," he sighed. The rest, after China, was a maze

of unending jungles, except for Thailand and Burma - Ryouga knew he'd

been there. Thailand because he'd studied some Muay Tai Boxing, and

spent an extra few days there, and Burma because of the native

languages picked up and because he'd ended up in a mountain range that

was obviously the Himalayas. He'd never entered India proper, at last

not to his knowledge, but, truthfully, he had spend a lot of time

Bakusai Tenketsu'ing through mountains and the like and perfecting his

more destructive techniques, so it was hard to tell. There'd been

plains and deserts, eventually, and at that point Ryouga knew he'd

begin to make really good time. Without water to worry about, or other

distractions, he'd simply picked a direction and WENT.



    He'd crossed the Indus in a reed boat soon after, and the customs

he'd seen made it obvious Pakistan had been next (He'd been shot at

there, too). Here it got really tricky, because as a Hibiki, Ryouga

had still covered a LOT of terrain and, he suspected, went in circles.

It all seemed the same, but if he recalled correctly, and he usually

did when relaxed and wasn't actually there, that he'd been through

Afghanistan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, and maybe

Kazakhstan. Iran, he knew he'd been to, because he'd passed through

Tehran and picked up a new language in the meantime. He'd ended up in

Russia, which meant he'd passed through either the tip of Turkey or

Azerbaijan, through Georgia, and into southern Russia. A very

different route from the last time he was in China, after Jyusenkyo,

when he'd veered north through Russia - mostly open land and forests,

and made it to Europe with relatively little interference.



    Gods, it'll be good to get back to Japan...



    "Hey," Ryouga turned from looking out the window to gently nudge

the man sitting next to him, "Hey, we've been over water for a while

now."



    "What do you expect?" the man ruffled his paper and turned the

page, "This is the overnight flight to Hawaii."



    "..." Ryouga's armrest crumpled like tin foil, "H... Hawaii...

aaaAAAAARRRGH!!!"



    ~Past~



    Cologne sighed to herself as the boulder beneath her swung back,

slowly, the supporting branches overhead creaking in protest. Around

forty feet away, attached to the same apparatus that held the multi-

ton boulder suspended, her student was tied, legs crossed and only one

arm, and one finger on that same arm, free. He'd taken to closing his

eyes, the Amazon matriarch noted, in regards to the training. The last

three days he'd kept his eyes open, often during the impact, in an

effort to 'see' the breaking point. Today, however, he'd kept them

closed, and seemed a lot calmer and more collected during the

exercise, despite her attempts to rile him. The Hibiki boy was

powerful, physically, but his emotions were a weak spot - mentions of

Akane, Ranma, and the like very easily had predictable and adverse

effects on his ability to get better in touch with his ki and what it

could do for him.



    Cologne tensed a bit as the boulder reached an apex of height,

inertia fading, letting gravity take it back down, gaining in speed.



    She herself had undergone the training, though with a smaller

boulder. Traditionally, the Bakusai Tenketsu was done with a boulder

one third the size she was using now, and even then, not as much force

was behind it. The training was also stretched out over weeks or

months. This, she knew, had little to do with the size of the boulder

except for the always-present danger of brain damage that the use of

larger, heavier rocks entailed. However, observation of the Lost Boy

showed he was capable of surviving the impacts of this size, and

likely possessed the skill and conscious experience of ki

manipulation. She had, on the first day, before the first rock

collided, told him, "See not with your eyes."



    The boulder shuddered violently as it smashed into the young

martial artist. There was a wet thump, and a sharp intake of air as

Ryouga pushed off the surface of the training tool. Looking up at her,

eyes dark with a likely combination of pain and repressed anger and

depression, but most importantly determination, he spat out what she

wanted to hear, "Again."



    "Very well," Cologne tapped her staff on a nearby tree trunk, and

the boulder began, again, to creak backwards. Outwardly, she was

annoyed at him, and made as much known every few failures. Silently,

Cologne was amazed. Before the training had begun, she had tested some

of his abilities. He was incredibly strong, as she knew all Hibiki's

were, but only recently had she gotten an appreciation for what he was

capable of. Ranma was also in the mountains training, with Akane, and

she had seen Genma-Panda when he came to spy on what was going on

here. Since then, she had divided her free time between watching her

son-in-law prepare for the upcoming fight, and watching his rival.



    The rock began to slow, before stopping entirely, and then moving

forward for what seemed like the two hundredth time today.



    Cologne had seen, as she planned, Ryouga practicing and training

Shampoo before the Bakusai Tenketsu training. This was why she had

allowed Shampoo to come, indeed, why she hadn't initially thought of

it herself was almost a little embarrassing. Her great granddaughter

was a fine Amazon specimen, and an excellent warrior - the best of her

generation. However, compared to Ranma, even then, she was virtually

nothing. This, coupled with Shampoo's disillusionment and eventual

acceptance of her defeat, began what Cologne knew was the gradual

fading of her warrior spirit. Cologne was not one to offer training

except in special cases; hence she had been hesitant to directly

confront her protege with her concerns. By tradition, Shampoo would

have to ask her, not the other way around.



    Another sickening splat.



    The boulder shook a little this time, and Cologne noted it as a

tiny ki infusion, but incorrectly placed and used. He was growing

remarkably close to 'seeing' the breaking point, "Why don't you just

give up? No progress. No progress at all."



    "AGAIN!"



    Cologne tapped the trunk in a now well-worn location, and the

boulder did as it did. Cologne had also wanted to observe Ryouga's

personal abilities, outside of simply carrying orders, as she had for

Ranma. Like the Saotome boy, Ryouga practiced a very loose,

unrestricted style, that couldn't be properly observed except when

used freely. Simply asking him to show her 'what he could do' would

accomplish nothing, because it wouldn't actually be how he fought. It

had taken a bit longer than she suspected, but when Ryouga began to

take on the role of helping Shampoo improve, often indulging in

sparring sessions with her, it was the prefect opportunity to see the

differences and similarities between her son-in-law and his rival.



    "AGAIN!"



    And he was close to finding the breaking point. Cologne had had

some hint that Ryouga had experience with Ki Infusion techniques when

she checked his clothes and backpack. The former were lighter than

expected, and the latter far, far heavier, and not simply due to the

number of items stuffed within. Additionally, his umbrella was also

mysteriously heavy. The Amazon's suspicious were confirmed when

Ryouga, by chance, sent a stray bandanna, one of many apparently, near

her when she allowed him to sense her. Not see: sense. Further, the

bandanna had acted like a shuriken, and buried itself deeply into a

nearby tree trunk. It was reminiscent of Martial Arts Gymnastics,

which Cologne had heard of, but never actually seen. It supposedly

infused Ki into gymnastic ribbons to increase the strength of the

material, and other properties. It was a strange thought - this Hibiki

boy learning, of all things, Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics, which

consequently became adapted to his lifestyle and fighting techniques.

Like it was in her son-in-law, a single technique could spawn half a

dozen improvisations and improvements in a superior martial artist's

mind.



    A dull thud interrupted her thoughts, followed by something that

sounded like, "Again."



    She had seen Ranma doing as much to her Kachuu Tenshi Amaguriken,

using it to pick off attacking bees before they could sting him in the

clearing near where he and his father, a man who obviously held many

powerful techniques and abilities behind his clumsy and cowardly

exterior, were camped. The Chestnut Fist was, at its heart, simply a

speed exercise for the hands, inspired by the ancient Seven Lucky Gods

Clan, of which the leader traditionally used Chopsticks in a similar

manner. Ranma had learnt it in a mere few days, though Cologne

admitted she had been reasonably soft on him, due to her personal

inability to accurately gage his skill. It was a learning experience

for both of them, in a way. Ranma had, apparently, learnt it more

quickly using fish in water as opposed to actual chestnuts in a fire,

which was the normal method, one that often lead to ugly scarring.

Ryouga's unfortunate curse had almost made her reconsider using fire,

but to her pleasure it had instead proved both motivational and

...entertaining, to say the least.



    The rock shook under her feet, and Cologne looked down at the

somewhat limp form clinging to the front of the boulder. Inwardly, she

realized she should have put some pause into that last swing to give

him more time to recover. Ryouga's face was bloodied, one eye slightly

swollen, and a slow but steady trickle of dark red blood was flowing

out of the corner of his mouth and into a new patch of dried blood

beneath his chin. One of many, Cologne noted. She'd heard that many

Amazons believed the Bukusai Tenketsu was a technique designed either

for fanatics and masochists, from watching the comparatively pitiful

displays of its training regimen back at the village. Sighing, she

looked at where Ryouga's finger had hit the boulder at an off angle,

and saw a tiny dark patch in the rock, barely breaking the surface,

and barely visible.



    She knew, then, that he'd have it mastered by tomorrow, probably

after only another hour or two. Cologne smiled at the thought. When he

was fully healed, after the training was complete, he would be

practically immune to any physical attack her son-in-law could bring

against him. Though the technique didn't work on organic targets, of

which Cologne was sure Ryouga knew... or would certainly know once he

mastered it, it built endurance, toughness and strength to insane

levels. Coupled with his growing, but still more incremental, success

with the Amaguriken, the two would make an unbeatable combination when

used against her son-in-law. That Tendo-girl, Akane, would be Ryouga's

prize, because it was obvious he was infatuated with her, and Ranma,

who never appeared to have any feeling for the girl, would become

Shampoo's... if only because the boy would need her great grandmother

to teach him a technique to defeat his rival. And if he didn't, there

was always Plan B....



    "We'll stop here for tonight," Cologne reached out with her staff

and undid the main knot of the harness around Ryouga. He fell into the

ground, breathing but not moving.



    "What... what a familiar view," he finally spoke, looking up at

the blood stained boulder. Then, slowly, he smiled, "Tomorrow..."



    ~Present~



    "Two things about Hawaii. One good, one bad."



    "Oh? What's that?"



    "One. It's an island," Ryouga shifted the strap on his shoulder a

bit.



    "And Two?"



    "Two. It's an island," the lost boy sighed. It had been just over

a week since he landed in Hawaii, the large island. He'd ended up on a

ship to Maui, and another one back, he thought, while looking for Gate

46, which had, the week before, been the location of the next flight

to Tokyo. Unfortunately, the island seemed to have an insane range of

climates and locales stuffed into its meager 4000 something square

miles, making him even more lost and directionless than usual.

Currently, he was in a small cafe, overlooking the ocean, feeling just

a little more depressed than usual, "Another coffee. No cream. Same as

before."



    "Right," the woman turned and started making the drink, when

Ryouga spoke up again.



    "I... I know this is going to sound stupid, but... where am I?"



    She looked over her shoulder, "What do ya mean?"



    "I mean, where am I?" Ryouga hated asking for directions, but it

was a necessity. Though they rarely helped, it usually at least gave

him some reference point for the future, and some handle on where to

go next. Hell, he wasn't even sure he was on the large island anymore,

"I'm looking for an airport."



    "You're on the Kona Coast, honey. Keahole Airport is about 20

minutes from here."



    "20 minutes?" Ryouga smiled, just a little. 20 minutes driving

time was about 40 minutes jogging at a fairly casual pace for him, but

that was only if he got lucky and didn't get lost.



    "Yep," she handed him his drink, and Ryouga put down the required

cash. At least he knew he was in the United States, and had a handy

emergency supply of the appropriate money, "Just head down the I-11.

The Interstate. It goes right there."



    "Good," Ryouga totally ignored the heat of the coffee. He was

almost used to being splashed by boiling water, drinking some of it

wasn't a problem. Silently, he savored the drink. The western world

seemed to love their coffee, and he didn't mind it occasionally

himself. He'd only gotten two hours sleep yesterday in his effort to

get out of a volcanic type area as quickly as possible, and the coffee

was a welcome relief when he could find it.



    "Oh no," the woman at the cafe said, and Ryouga looked in the

direction she seemed to be concerned by. A trio of men, dressed

somewhat unusually, had walked in. They sported loose jeans, and

fairly colorful T-shirts, the words on one of which Ryouga didn't

recognize: likely some slang term he hadn't picked up on his last time

in America.



    "What?"



    "Oh, its Mel. Guy's got an ego the size of the Goodyear blimp."



    Ryouga obviously missed the reference.



    "Hey, Anne," the man in question, flanked by his two shorter

friends walked up to the counter, one of which took a seat. Ryouga

noted that the taller one, obviously Mel, moved with some control, and

was likely some kind of fighter by his movements. It was either very

subtle, suggesting he was very good, or he simply wasn't that good to

begin with and didn't know how to conceal it. Ryouga was willing to

bet on the latter.



    "What can I get ya,' Mel?"



    "A date would be a start," he spoke in a self-assured tone Ryouga

quickly recognized, but held back for the moment to let the situation

play out first before acting.



    "I've already got a boyfriend," she answered, obviously staying

cordial but frosty, "Can I get you a drink, Mel?"



    "James? Oh... come on! You want a boy or a man?"



    "This," Ryouga finally took the opportunity to speak, "Is so

pathetic."



    "Hey!" Mel looked down at Ryouga, who was still seated, "What the

hell did you say?"



    "I said," the lost boy stood up, finishing his drink, "This is

pathetic. And by extension... you are, too."



    "This is none of your business, man," the older boy growled.



    "Mel..." the woman, Anne, warned. Both men ignored her, but Ryouga

cracked a grin, one tooth dipping into the lower lip.



    "You look like a fighter, Mel... wasn't it?"



    "The best in town! I'm the top student in my class!" Mel

demonstrated he wasn't lying by taking a fairly advanced conventional

Karate stance. Ryouga looked him over, and sighed.



    "Geez... I'm out of your league. I won't fight you, but you need

to learn some... humility. Everyone does," the lost boy turned and

headed for the door, which, luckily, was in plain view. He was bad

with directions, but he wasn't that bad.



    "Shea' right! What's the matter? You yellow!?"



    Ryouga paused, and turned around, slowly. His expression hadn't

changed, but he held out his hands, palms up, "I guess I really will

have to teach you some humility then."



    That's when it started to happen.



    Like a switch that sets the blood aflame, the world started to

slow down around the Lost Boy. Everything felt sharper, clearer, and

more real than the jumbled mess that had been before. In that instant,

Ryouga could virtually count every hair and stubble on the young man's

face; smell his fear and anger, even touch the flickering candle of

his soul. Had the American boy been more in touch with himself and the

world around him, had he experience like this before, he would have

realized his mistake then. But he was ignorant. Ryouga, on the other

hand, was aware of everything around him.



    Times like this, he wondered if this was a small sample of what it

felt like to be a god.



    Ryouga had, to him, all the time in the world. The other boy's

fist was only halfway between him and his opponent, and he still had

time to think of a battle plan, enjoy the scenery, or even try, for

once, to think of a snappy joke before he needed to make his move.

Finally, the lost boy decided to act. The boy was around eight feet

away. Without a sound, he closed the distance halfway. To Mel and his

friends, it's no doubt looked almost like he had teleported. Ryouga

smiled inwardly at that... They were flies trying to swim through

molasses, and he was a hawk soaring through the sky. While he still

didn't entertain the thought that he was faster than Ranma - he

wasn't, he was still far and away faster than anyone present could

follow. What to do, what to do... a list of options presented itself

to the young martial artist. He could draw a bandanna or two and drill

the punk lightly between his eyes. It would give him a good scar and

probably a concussion, but wouldn't kill. On the other hand, not

feeling altogether altruistic, he could just wind-up and give him a

good old-fashioned haymaker, easily powerful enough to tear through

ballistic armor, or collapse the front of a speeding eighteen-wheeler.

Of course, such a thing was out of the question, but the option

remained. Had he actually done it, Mel's head would either have been

batted clean off his shoulders or, worse, exploded like an overripe

melon hit by a .44 caliber bullet from a magnum.



    But that would make a huge mess of the diner, and wouldn't be

particularly honorable, regardless of the situation.



    Mel struck with a right jab, well executed, and what he likely

thought as being lightning speed. The room was silent in that instant,

save for a hard thud followed by a howl of pain. Ryouga had his left

arm up, almost casually. Mel had his hand drawn back, in plain view,

both eyes wide with shock and pain. His forearm was just slightly

bent, and rapidly reddening from elbow to wrist. Lowering his arm from

the blocking position, Ryouga sighed, "Still want to fight... Mel?"



    "Ah," the American boy winced and drew back, nursing his arm,

"Jesus... like hitting God damn concrete..."



    "I didn't think so," Ryouga's voice was level. Finally, with the

chance of danger over, the world came down from its high. Things

stopped being so clear and beautiful and returned to the chaos and

distraction of the not-so-real world the average man lived in and

through. Ryouga felt the nagging suspicion in the back of his mind

that he was, now, back to being just a normal human. Though sometimes,

when the world was darker than usual, even he felt the need to remind

myself that he wasn't, and so the lost boy would have to leap off a

building, bridge or cliff just to get the rush, and the reminder,

going again. Occasionally, someone would see him jump, and the police

would mysteriously never find a body. And why would there be one? He

always survived. And he always moved on.



    "Bye," Ryouga turned, went out the door and headed for the

Interstate.



    And promptly got lost.



~Past~



    Shampoo winced as Ryouga blocked her snap kick, ending a quick set

of attacks she had thought out beforehand, and spent time the night

before practicing. She found him, as usual, after his morning speed

exercises with her great grandmother, to bring him back to the camp

for lunch. He'd been calmer and less exhausted, not to mention

frustrated, than usual then, and had suggested they spar before lunch

today. She hadn't picked up on the subtly of his suggestion and the

meaning behind his words until they actually began the fight.

Normally, he ate before some light sparring, to let the food settle

for a long eight or so hours of Bukusai Tenketsu training. Today, he'd

be eating right before being pummeled by boulders with enough force

behind them to easily crush an armored car, which meant...



    "You're letting your mind stray, Shampoo!"



    Shampoo chastised herself mentally, and jumped back as he tagged

her lightly on the shoulder. She'd told him, numerous times, that she

wouldn't mind if he hit her, though naturally nowhere near at full

strength. The fact that he had refused then, and now, continued to

pique her Amazon pride, and the first few times she couldn't help but

take it as an insult. But time and experience showed the contrary -

Ryouga had respect for her skills, or else he wouldn't be helping her,

it was simply his code of honor that didn't allow him to hit a woman.

Foreign and alien to an Amazon, yes, but looking back on how often he

had tagged her lightly, she was silently thankful for it.



    "Then try this, lost boy!" Shampoo spun into a trio of fierce

kicks, of which Ryouga simply fielded with hard blocks. Ryouga had

stressed that his style, as it were, was one of flexibility, moving

away from restrictive sets of attacks or even single attacks, and

towards a more complex 'reactive' style that relied on

unpredictability. He had, much to his own annoyance, said that the

Hibiki School of Survival Arts was an informal one, but was, in

practice, very similar to her Airen's formal Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu, or

School of Anything-Goes Martial Arts. Still, she noted that he had

picked up preferences for certain things, and while Ranma was a

dodger, preferring to avoid blows entirely, Ryouga was a blocker,

preferring to either take or block blows while moving into position to

strike.



    She had planned for this.



    Last night, she had practiced it a dozen times, and had it down

blindfolded. Jumping into a kick, that Ryouga dodged and blocked at

the same time, she tucked and spun for a trip. He braced himself, she

knew without looking, and his legs didn't budge when the trip hit

home. She knew the lost boy wasn't easily taken off his feet, but the

trip didn't matter; it was only a feint. Putting more pressure into

her hand, she felt the soft earth and closed her fingers around a

buried handle.



    "Nani?" Ryouga's eyes widened as Shampoo pulled one of her bonbori

out of the ground and lunged. Falling backwards he let it brush his

nose as it passed overhead, before letting a hand stop his fall and

assist a roll to the side. Kicking out with both legs, preventing

Shampoo from closing the distance, he got to his feet. Shampoo spun in

retaliation, her bonbori stopping inches from his ear as a powerful

grip caught Shampoo's own around the handle, halting the momentum of

the strike entirely.



    "Nice try, Shan Pu. But I could always have just done... this," he

spoke in Mandarin before switching to Japanese, and tapped the Bonbori

with one finger, "Bukusai Tenketsu."



    The bonbori cracked, shuddered, and exploded into blasted chunks.

Shampoo cringed a bit as the debris hit her, but it wasn't a

particularly powerful explosion, she knew, and didn't hurt too much.

She smiled, "You learn Bukusai Tenketsu already."



    "I was close last night. When the... dreams came last night, I

noticed my mistake. And corrected it," Ryouga let her hand go,

blushing a bit, before turning away, "I won't show granny yet, though.

I've learnt it, but I still need to perfect it."



    "Shampoo think you obsessed."



    "With beating Ranma," Ryouga added, "Always, Shampoo. Don't think

otherwise."



    "Great grandmother say you want impress violent Tendo girl."



    "I... I'd be lying if that wasn't part of it, too," Ryouga walked

over to the now only warm bowl of ramen that they had put aside

earlier, "And her name is Akane."



    "She violent."



    "She girl, I know," Ryouga sighed, "Shampoo logic in action. But

she tries not to be violent. It's just... around Ranma. And Kuno. And

most of the boys in her school. And you... and... er... Well, she's

nice to me, anyway. Kinda."



    Shampoo sat nearby, her own bowl in hand, "You love her?"



    "Sometimes I think so. Sometimes I don't know. Right now... right

now, I don't know, Shampoo. I've never had a lot of experience with

girls. My curse... my family's curse, I mean. We're always lost. It

doesn't help things. Hell, I don't even know if I should get involved

with anyone."



    "What you mean?" Shampoo noted the rising tension in Ryouga's

shoulders. It wasn't a comfortable subject, she could tell, but he

seemed to want, or need, to talk about it.



    "My father gets lost. But... my mother didn't always," Ryouga

sighed when he saw that Shampoo was totally lost herself, "The Hibiki

family has had The Curse for a little over two and a half centuries.

We were... we are a samurai family. One that bred for strength and

endurance for years, according to what my father told me on one of the

rare occasions we were together for any period of time. I'm stronger

than the average Hibiki for my age, but not by much. The Curse,

inflicted on us by enemies long since punished for what they did, was

meant to keep the Hibiki family under control, and to last 'for a

thousand years.' Needless to say it worked, and has been with us

since. However, the old family house had wards that allowed us to find

our way around inside it, and not wander off. The Hibiki Family, at

least, stayed together. We could stay home when we wanted to, and

wander... when we wanted to."



    Shampoo nodded, "What happened?"



    "The house burnt down in a firebombing raid on Tokyo. The wards

were lost. We had no idea how to reproduce them, and the priest that

had, originally, made them was long dead. A new one was built, the

house we have now. Have... but don't live in," Ryouga slurped a

mouthful of noodles, "No one lives in it. ...Except the dog."



    "Shampoo not understand! Why not just wait in house?"



    "It doesn't work that way, Shampoo. ...I wish it did. I always end

up outside, and then its impossible to find a way back inside for at

LEAST a week. But that's not the worst of it. I mentioned that my

mother wasn't always lost."



    Shampoo remembered.



    "It runs in the family, but it isn't hereditary."



    "Shampoo still not understand."



    "It... If I married Akane... If she loved me, as... If we got

married, she would slowly start to get lost, too, until she was as bad

as I am. My mother hates that my father never told her before they got

married and had me, and neither my uncle nor my aunt, on the Cursed

side, have children. They don't want to, and who could blame them?

It's a miserable life to subject a child to. Besides, who could love

someone with a Curse like mine?"



    Shampoo didn't know what to say, but tried anyway, "But... eight

hundred year from now, child born who not get lost, right?"



    "Supposedly," Ryouga finished the bowl, and leaned back, looking

up at the sky, "But his parents would still be lost all the time.

Anyway, enough about my family... it's depressing."



     "Sure," Shampoo picked up his empty bowl, put it on top of hers,

and put them away.



    Ryouga simply took in the clouds. They sky was almost clear of

them, high above the trees, and any day that it wasn't going to rain

was a good day. He'd quickly come to hate... no, hate was too weak a

word. Loathe. He'd quickly come to loathe Nerima's erratic rainstorms,

water-splashing women, old and young, inconveniently placed sprinkler

systems and easily broken or exploded plumping network. The whole

place was like Tokyo's water hazard or something.



    "Why you really like Akane?"



    "Didn't you ask me that?" Ryouga grumbled, concentrating on more

calming thoughts.



    "Shampoo ask if you love her. You say sometimes," Shampoo sat down

next to him. She was still wearing her battle armor, which she had

lately taken to wearing during their sparring sessions, "Never ask

why."



    "What does it matter?" Ryouga felt a bit nervous about the topic.



    "Shampoo not stupid. She suspect Airen have feelings for violent

girl."



    "And you think they're for the same reasons as mine?" Ryouga

became strangely silent. It was almost a minute before he continued,

"I don't know... I don't know if Ranma loves her or not, Shampoo.

There's something there, under the surface, but I don't know what it

is. I... I do know she thinks of Ranma a lot."



    Ryouga clenched his fists, "You've seen me transform. You know

what I am."



    "You mean little black piglet?"



    "Pet piglet," Ryouga's voice bordered on a snarl, but aside from

his almost chalk white fists he hadn't moved, "You want to know how it

started, Shampoo? ...To make a comparison between us? I'll tell you,

then! She kissed me in my cursed form! She kissed me, hugged me, and

named me P-chan, and I fell for her. I fell hard, and I never got back

up."



    Jumping to his feet, he saw Cologne waiting and walked over to the

matriarch, quicker than normal. Looking over his shoulder, he growled,

"You want my advice? Maybe you should try kissing onna-Ranma, hugging

her, and naming HER something stupid! It seems to work better than

you'd expect."



    An hour later the formerly quiet forest was rocked with the sound

of explosions.



~Present~



    It didn't hurt to be careful.



    Granted, Ryouga Hibiki never claimed to be a particularly careful

person. He routinely destroyed walls and other things that got into

the way and couldn't easily be gotten around, he got overly emotional,

and... No, careful he wasn't. Quite the contrary, as both a martial

artist and a wanderer, he had seen more than enough danger, and most

of it he had jumped into willingly. Even his Jyusenkyo curse was

partly his fault, both for being careless in a moment of weakness and

dropping his guard, and for following Ranma in the first place. But

danger was par d' course in the pursuit of revenge, he knew that.

Still, he tried to be careful, even if he wasn't.



    The stewardess smiled as the young man smiled up at her nervously.

He was cute, in a rugged, somewhat dangerous way. Though that small

scar, just under his left eye, was a bit odd, "What would you like for

the in flight meal, sir?"



    "Excuse me, ma'am, but... what flight is this?"



    The stewardess blinked, a blank look on her face, "Excuse me?"



    "The flight. Where is it to?"



    "You're flying First Class on a flight and you're not sure where

its going?!"



    "Er..."



    He certainly didn't seem to be joking. Finally she humored him,

"Flight 102 non stop to Narita Airport."



    Ryouga nodded in recognition. Once on the island, it'd only be a

matter of time before he hit Nerima, Tokyo, "Thank you. I wasn't...

sure exactly where this plane was going to land."



    "Oh," the stewardess seemed to accept that, "What'll you have for

dinner, sir?"



    "The steak. It'll probably be the last time I have that for a long

time," Ryouga sighed loudly and leaned back on his isle side chair.

Traveling on planes was always a gamble, at least for a Hibiki. More

often than not, it took you more off course than you were to begin

with, so it was generally reserved for emergencies. The expense wasn't

a major problem; the family was easily well off enough for it,

especially since so little of the actual money in the account was

used. His mother and father spend all their time wandering; the money

simply sat there and accrued interest.



    "What'll it be, sir?" the waitress asked the man sitting next to

Ryouga.



    "Ahl ave de chicken, wahine."



    The lost boy shuddered at the bad attempt at English, but

otherwise ignored the other man. His thoughts turned back to Nerima,

and why exactly he was returning. Was it because he had sworn to? Was

it because he was curious? Or was it because he was lonely and tired

of listlessly wandering foreign streets? Did he really have anywhere

else to go? The plane had been in the air for only a half hour, he

estimated, though it was a pretty rough estimate. The Hibiki sense of

time is worse than usual, but thankfully nowhere near as bad as their

sense of direction. So often it was like this - just him and his

thoughts. In them, he was as free to get lost as anywhere. Usually, it

was the only thing to alleviate the...



    "What are you doing?"



    "Aloha! Me was jus thinkin' dat ya hair need a clippin!" a pair of

hand shears waved threateningly in midair. Threatening to normal

people and to hair, anyway.



    "So you were going to cut my hair?"



    "Ya."



    "In a plane?"



    "Ya."



    "While I slept?"



    "Ya!"



    Ryouga noticed, then, the odd ...tree sticking out of the man's

head, "Can I see your shears first?"



    The weirdo had one in each hand, and seemed almost proud to

display them. With a single, swift, motion, Ryouga grabbed each, and

squeezed. The metal crumpled like tin foil, into a useless mess that

hardly resembled anything anymore. Closing his eyes halfway, the young

martial artist relaxed in his chair and crossed his hands over his

belt, "Touch my hair, and I'll do that to your hands. Cut my hair, and

I'll do that to your face."



    "..."



    "Wake me up when dinner's here," closing his eyes, Ryouga decided

to change topics of thought. He'd been looking to complete his

training in Indonesian Serak for a while now, and the Hibiki memory,

especially in regards to martial arts, was still as yet un-cursed,

even if the rest of his body and soul was. He'd picked it up, first, a

while back, before he first came to Nerima, and had been searching

for, or more exactly kept on the look out for, a chance to further his

study of it. Unfortunately, the opportunity hadn't yet presented

itself. The style stressed efficient body movements and timing in

combat, and was almost entirely offensive in nature while stressing in

close fighting. What Ryouga himself knew he had made good use of, but

it was still incomplete and imperfect. Devoting time to study,

improvise and extrapolate on a style was important, especially for

himself. Because of his... directional problems, he had learnt that

the most efficient way of learning new styles was to observe it in

action or in practice, in its entirety, and allow a few days for

contemplation and absorption into his own overall style.



    In the meantime, he really hoped that freak wouldn't mess with his

hair.



    Breaking his hands would probably upset that nice stewardess.



~Past~



    Shampoo paused, unsure.



    In her mind, what she normally considered a minor thing was being

turned over and re-examined. The splashing was audible now, and she

knew where he was practicing, and about his state of dress (or lack

thereof). At first, Shampoo had resolved herself simply to look and

see whether he was as close to learning the Amaguriken as he had been

the Bakusai Tenketsu yesterday. The fact that he trained for it naked

was little more than a perk - such was the way of things in Amazon

society. Her Airen didn't seem to mind, at least a lot, when she

looked at him or vice versa, but Ryouga... the lost boy was a

different matter entirely.



    She knew he was insanely nervous around and about the female

anatomy, and that he was similarly shy about himself. Why, Shampoo

couldn't fathom; both he and Ranma were built like an Amazon's dream,

and she had, after all, already seen him when he transformed out of

his pig form back in the Nekohanten. It was almost noon. The splashing

had stopped, and the option of asking was, at the moment, more

tempting than ever, but the lost boy still hadn't totally admitted to

knowing the Bakusai Tenketsu, and she had SEEN him do it! In light of

that, it seemed likely he'd deny knowing the Amaguriken, even if he

knew the technique.



    The whole situation was confusing, so Shampoo did what she always

did in situations where she couldn't come to a rational decision, and

went with her instincts. Looking over the concealing bushes, careful

not to make noise, Shampoo watched. To her silent dismay, he only had

his shirt off, obviously to keep it from getting wet. Cologne was next

to him, kettle off to the side, watching. The old woman's eyes passed

by Shampoo, and stayed there. The urge to bolt under her great

grandmother's gaze was strong, but it quickly left her and went back

to the raging water where it belonged, leaving Shampoo with enough

dignity and wits to stay. To Shampoo, it was enough approval to stick

around.



    Ryouga's shoulders tensed, one hand inching a bit forward, letting

the other hang back. Shampoo then noticed one additional thing: both

her great grandmother and her pupil had moved downstream, where it was

shallower. When, without warning, the lost boy's hands became a blur,

she quickly saw why. Instead of catching fish, which likely had fled

the area (and what animal wouldn't?), he was plucking pebbles off the

bottom of the stream. It only seemed to last a second before Ryouga's

hands stopped in midair, still slightly trembling, and he leant back,

winded but dry. In front of his crossed legs, between his knees,

Shampoo could just barely see a small pile of stones.



    "How... how was that, granny? Fast enough?"



    Cologne looked down at the pile, and said, simply, "Son-in-law is

still faster."



    "Damn. Let me catch my breath, I'll try again."



    "Tomorrow," Cologne looked at Shampoo, and the younger Amazon

quickly retreated.



    "Sure," Ryouga slowly got to his feet and stood up, "Should I

continue the Bakusai Tenketsu training later today?"



    "It has served its purpose. Only practice will make you more

comfortable and proficient with the technique itself now."



    "Right. Should I just wait for Shampoo like normal, or..." Ryouga

frowned, "Where do you head off to every day, anyway? At the same

time?"



    "Do you really want to know?" Cologne regretted saying that: of

course the boy meant what he said. She sighed, "My future Son-in-law

is also training on this mountain."



    "Ah," Ryouga's frown deepened into a scowl. A little too quickly,

Cologne thought to herself. Before he could say another word, she

bounded off without a sound. He was about to run after her, simply on

impulse, when he caught himself and stayed in place, "Ranma... two

days. Two days until I destroy you."



    "Nihao," Shampoo poked him in the back, causing Ryouga to jump

five feet in the air, and totally ruining the mood.



    "Don't DO that!" he whirled, and calmed instantly, "Still, I'm

glad you're here. Shampoo... I should tell you something. I just found

out... I'm not the only one training on this mountain..."



    Shampoo blinked as his sentence ended there, "And?"



    "And...," Ryouga couldn't seem to push it past his lips. Telling

Shampoo was both the honest thing to do, and the right thing to do.

Granted, she had an unhealthy fixation on a bastard SOB who would only

break her heart, and likely that of a half dozen other girls, but he

knew he should tell her that he was here. He didn't want to; she'd

likely run off without another thought. Still, over the last few days

he'd never lied to her, why break a streak like that? Besides, what

did he have to lose?



    "Ranma's also around here somewhere. Cologne goes to spy on him

around now."



    "Shampoo know that," she stated, oblivious to the effort he had

spent on that simple statement.



    "You know?!"



    "Of course Shampoo know," Shampoo bluffed. She had just found out

herself, overhearing her great grandmother tell Ryouga, but decided it

was something better kept to herself. True, she was tempted to go off

and first find, then see, Ranma. But he was always there, and she'd

see him at the duel in two days anyway, so it was a minor thing.

Besides, Ranma never actually spent time with her, or even talked, or

tried to be her friend like Ryouga did. Considering Ranma had the luck

to marry the best fighter (and, in Shampoo's opinion, the cutest

fighter) in the Joketsuzoku village, he didn't seem to be especially

grateful or enthusiastic about it.



    "Oh," Ryouga chuckled to himself nervously, "Good."



    As the two walked back to the camp, Ryouga spoke up, "Hey... I've

got a day and a half's worth of training to do, and no one to do it

with. I was kinda wondering if... uh... you'd help me?"



    "Silly lost boy! Of course Shampoo help!"



    "Great!" Ryouga held out a large handful of small round stones and

gave them to Shampoo, "We'll start with those, and take a break when

they're all gone!"



    Shampoo just looked down at the stones in her hand and back up at

him.



    "Throw them at me," Ryouga held his left hand behind his back, and

his right forward, index finger forward. Shampoo crouched, and started

flicking them, the first three at low speed. The lost boy easily

intercepted them with his finger, and each exploded in a small cloud

of dust. In bursts, next, Shampoo fired them, building up to top

speed. Matching the tiny projectiles, Ryouga's hand became a blur, as

she had seen them do before. Knowing he'd intercept any she threw,

Shampoo poured half of the remaining stones into her other hand, and

used both to send a steam of them his way. His arm was still moving

incredibly quickly, but she could see behind it that he was already

breathing very heavily, in somewhat undisciplined gasps. When her

supply ran out, and the last pebble exploded in midair, Ryouga fell

forward, stopped from hitting the ground only by his still rested left

hand.



    "Look exhausting," Shampoo nudged him with her foot, and he slowly

recovered, his breathing turning steady.



    Standing up, he smiled, "That's the point."



    "Good. Then lost boy too, too tired to put off eat," she dragged

him by his other arm and tossed him to the ground. To his credit, he

struggled a little.



    "Geez. Alright," he ate contently. The ramen was even better than

before, but it disappeared just as quickly. With it finished, two

things warred for attention in the mind of Ryouga Hibiki. By the end

of the fight, in two days, both were moot points, anyway.



~Present~



    "Curse that Saotome!"



    Tatewaki Kuno, oft times called the Blue Thunder (at least in his

own mind) of Furinkan High School, repeated his proclamation once more

for the world to take to heart before sneezing loudly, and at least in

his opinion, proudly. Pride was, after all, essential to life as a

Kuno, and Tatewaki, as the heir to the name, and the de facto head of

the family, knew he always had his pride to fall back on. Even as,

earlier today, the vile Sorcerer had publicly humiliated them both, no

doubt in a vain effort to make a mockery of the great name of Tatewaki

Kuno, even at the minor price of his own tiny sense of self-esteem.



    What had started out as a semi-honorable duel had quickly degraded

into a hellish display of ...of ...Kuno wasn't sure what it had

degraded into, but it hadn't been the noble pursuit it began as. Just

a scant two days ago, the Scion of the House Kuno had developed a dark

case of the uncommon cold - uncommon, in that surly no ordinary cold

could or would so dare taunt death by attacking the well nigh

impenetrable immune system of the Blue Thunder, and dark in that no

MERE, unaided, disease had a chance of infecting Tatewaki Kuno...

unless, of course, it had some dark benefactor behind its mysterious

resurgence. No doubt, the vile Ranma Saotome, knowing that no physical

attack could fell the righteous Blue Thunder, resorted to dishonorable

biological attacks on his person. Hence, Kuno had decided, upon great

meditation (and sleeping) to pay back the sorcerer by giving it to him

as well!



    "Ah, the thwarted irony of such a magnificent plan!" Kuno's eyes

watered liberally. Sadly, when his great plan had been made manifest,

and he had begun attempts to spread the disease to Saotome (by

sneezing on him), the fiend, perhaps driven by fear and desperation,

clung to his person. Vigorously, even! Ignoring the long lavender

haired maiden, and holding fast to the torso of the Blue Thunder, and

even doing so far as to do it again, in front of everyone, and say, "I

can't help myself!"



    "The... the knave!" Kuno sneezed again, and held his bokken to the

air, in a silent vow of vengeance, ready to run off and get revenge,

"I shall have my...!"



    Kodachi's piercing laugh ruined the moment, "Oh, brother dear!"



    "What?" Kuno held in a sneeze and slowly turned around. Standing

next to his twisted sister was a man, wearing a coat over unusually

brightly colored clothes. Especially seeing as it was late fall.

Still, he seemed... slightly familiar.



    And why was his left hand all bandaged up?



    Shampoo hadn't had this much fun in weeks. The appearance of the

Kairaishi mushroom earlier in the day had come both as a surprise and

as an unexpected boon. The plan had been simple: use its abilities to

make an obviously uncommitted and unresponsive Ranma more... open to

advances and suggestion, even if it was through the use of 'black

magic.' With Mousse out of town training by himself, things had been

both slow and boring, much to Shampoo's chagrin. Worse, over the

weeks, Ranma seemed to have grown more and more short tempered around

her, often being downright unfriendly. She'd have been heartbroken if

she hadn't seen it coming - by this point, heartbreak had been

replaced by anger and annoyance, little more. Still, a girl had to

have her fun...



    Neko-shampoo purred as Ranma ran through the house with her in his

arms. Tears were streaking down his cheeks and his eyes were dilated

to the point that one would think he'd had a cerebral hemorrhage or

something similar. One little sneeze had done it, she was still amazed

by that, and it'd even overcome his fear of her cursed form. On that

topic, she idly wondered why she felt more comfortable in his arms,

even though he was screaming like a madman/woman, as a cat instead of

a person. True, he was strong and she liked hugging him as a girl, but

there was something different when one was an animal. Idly, she

remembered the Lost Boy saying something similar months ago, the day

before the fight, when they'd talked about their mutual curses.



    Sudden heat interrupted her thoughts, and she felt her body

change. It tingled slightly, she suspected it was from the size change

and the fur, but it was like second nature by this time to undergo the

transformation. Shampoo took it in stride, "Nihao!"



    "Ssshhammpooo!!!" Ranma seemed more than a little upset, "GET THIS

SPELL OFFA ME!!"



    "No want to," Shampoo said, and meant it. It was both amusing, and

she really had no idea how to undo it anyway.



    A swift Tendo-mallet attack cut Ranma off before he could reply,

"Okay, Okay, I believe you! Now get away from there!"



    There, of course, referring to Shampoo, the Amazon knew. She

scowled; why did this girl always get in the way? If she wanted Ranma,

and Shampoo knew Akane did, why not just say so and get it out in the

open? There was a place for deceit, and a place for honesty in Amazon

society, and the latter always came before the former.



    "So this IS all your fault, Shampoo!" Akane huffed, the mallet no

longer visible through the steam of the hot bath.



    "I had to go through all this to convince you?" Ranma grumbled

loudly, both girls ignored him.



    "Ranma! Now you hold Shampoo!" Shampoo produced a handy Pepper

shaker (From where is any guess. She was naked when she went into the

tub).



    "I don't," Akane intercepted the pepper and inhaled it, "T...think

ssso!"



    "Akane! What you doing?!" Shampoo snarled, but when Akane sneezed

nothing happened. Both girls looked around, and neither saw Ranma.



    "This is too much! I guess I'll be sleeping outdoors tonight,"

Ranma thought, running across the top of the wall just outside the

dojo. He paused, when another form, partially obscured by the

darkness, stepped in front of him as it rounded one of the wall's

corners. Slowly, the map in the man's hands lowered, revealing a heavy

forward swept mass of black hair, and the hint of the orange and black

bandanna that kept it in place.



    ~Past.~



    The old woman had chosen the site well.



    But, no doubt, in the three hundred plus years of her life, she

had had enough practice in it to do it. Trees surrounded the small

field, save for a large rock outcropping, and there was no water in

sight. Ryouga, still, had come prepared, and he checked over his

shoulder to make sure Shampoo still held the kettle of hot, though not

boiling, water in case it was needed. She had been solemn the last

day, he had noticed. Their practice had been more frequent than their

conversations, which he was both thankful and saddened by. Thankful,

because he didn't need additional distractions, sad because he

honestly enjoyed talking to her, even if so much of it was in broken

Japanese. The last two days, he'd simply slipped into Mandarin to make

understanding her descriptions of Amazon life and customs easier and

clearer. Most likely, she was still feeling... apprehensive about the

fight. She understood, now, that it had to be - that things between

the two, Ranma and himself, could not be settled my words, or by any

other fashion.



    The first fight between them that had started behind Furinkan

High, in the old soccer field, had been inconclusive. Ranma had been

splashed, he'd found out about his curse, but before it could be

joined properly, Akane's hair had been cut and she'd almost lost her

life. Of course, it was as much Ranma's fault as it was his, the pig-

tailed idiot had back kicked the weapon out of his hands, in just the

right way to send it at the girl... but it was his weapon, and

ultimately his responsibility. He hadn't used his more lethal

techniques since then, and though few knew it, he fought far more

carefully and cautiously than ever before after that. Deep inside,

Ryouga knew that fight would have been his if that interruption hadn't

occurred. Ranma was in his girl form, and no real match for his power

and abilities outside of his normal body.



    The second fight, really, had been outside the Tendo Dojo in the

rain, just before his curse had been revealed. He'd only had one hand

to use, the other having to hold up his umbrella, but it was evened

out by the fact that Ranma was onna-Ranma, and had lacked both reach

and strength in the subsequent fight. Again, he'd been easily holding

his own, and staying dry, before a heavy object that he later figured

out had to have been thrown by Akane (both by his memories of a female

voice other than Ranma's and the strength behind the throw) nailed him

in the back of the head. Had he been prepared to receive it, it

wouldn't have been a huge problem, but it caught him by surprise while

he was committed to an attack on a very skilled opponent. Typically,

he had gotten wet in addition to being hurt, and tried to make a

dignified escape. The lost boy knew that, had Ranma found out, he'd

never hear the end of it, and true to form, Ranma did find out and he

never did hear the end of the incessant 'P-chan' 'hog' and 'pig-boy'

taunts. Again, Akane had interfered, but again, he blamed himself as

much. Though truly vengeance knew neither day nor night, and he was

afraid of getting lost waiting until morning, he should have known

that a fight at such an hour would invite intervention.



    There had been some minor skirmishes following that, but nothing

major until the so-called 'Charlotte Cup' in which P-chan was the

prize. Ranma had taken a few blows, and a fairly major crash, but

seemed otherwise fine when he broke free and decided to intervene.

That, and Ryouga himself barely knew how to stand up in skates, he

figured, made it a draw with the more experienced on the ice but

somewhat injured Ranma-chan. It had quickly degraded into a free for

all, and when Ryouga had smashed Mikado Sanzenin between two huge

slabs of ice in a desperation counter to his flying kick, he had felt

the rush of victory nipping at his heels. He'd then buried both the

pervert and Ranma under what had to be more than a few tons of icy

debris. Of course, Ranma proved as tenacious as always, crawling out

from under the rubble less than twenty seconds later. The danger of

getting wet, a mere annoyance for Ranma, was Ryouga's greatest fear.

While Ranma could get wet and fight on, even a minor dunking would end

it for the lost boy. Hence, in the ensuing fight, Ranma did the one

thing he could when still in girl form, and tried to turn Ryouga his

Rival into P-chan the Pet. Akane's intervention however, changed the

course of things before he could be dunked at a critical moment, and

Ranma had quickly lost any momentum he had in their fight. He... she

was slowing, and obviously close to defeat, when Akane fell into the

water and...



    That had ended the fight. They'd both jumped in, but in the end,

only a pig and a girl came out. He'd essentially left soon after to

pursue additional training in the mountains without distraction. It

had become obvious that Ranma wasn't improving skill-wise anytime

soon, and that with a little extra push; Ryouga could finally overcome

him completely and compensate for his greatest handicap, his damned

Jyusenkyo curse. It had thus been, naturally, a surprise when he'd

returned and Ranma had completely surpassed him. However, the pig-

tailed boy would soon learn that the pendulum swung both ways, and

more importantly...



    That payback was the mother of all bitches.



    Oh yes. She was indeed.



    "We here," Shampoo's voice was almost monotone. Only seconds had

passed since the two stepped into the clearing.



    "I know," Ryouga slowly looked up, and confirmed the form of Ranma

standing in the middle of the field, amid the somewhat parched grass

and broken ground. It was dry as a bone, and just the way Ryouga knew

both men wanted it. Ranma's pigtail was catching a bit of the wind,

and in the moment he truly embodied both the foul arrogance Ryouga

knew he himself had, but tried to fight, and the Art that Ryouga

aspired to. Was the price of being the 'best' an ego of proportional

size?



    Then, Ryouga saw her.



    "Akane!" he couldn't help but yelp, in surprise and confusion.

Akane was hanging by her waist from the branch of a tree - she didn't

look hurt; mostly angry, "What... what's going on here?!"



    "Perhaps I can explain," a familiar voice cackled, and all present

turned towards Cologne, who hopped seemingly out of no-where into the

middle of the clearing, near Ranma, "I though the fight would be

better if there were a prize at stake."



    Ranma's upper lip snarled, a bit. Ryouga's did far more, and then

some, his longer than natural canines now easily visible as he roared,

"NO! Damn it, Akane has nothing to do with this!"



    "Don't you...?" Cologne teased.



    "No," Ryouga's voice was cold, and crystal clear in the air, "Not

like this. Akane is not some... prize to be handed out to the victor

here! I fight ONLY to defeat Ranma Saotome! ONLY... to finish our

duel. If... If Akane has anything to do with me, it will be by choice.

Her choice."



    Ranma's eyes betrayed his thoughts, "I won't allow it."



    "That's what I thought," Ryouga's own mirrored his rival, and he

jumped, landing only a dozen feet from his opponent, "Let's settle

this."



    "Gladly, Pig boy," Ranma's hands became fists, Ryouga attacked,

and in the blink of an eye, the battle was joined. It began with a

flurry of blows, fast, but not fast enough to tag the pig-tailed blur

among them. Ranma ducked and dodged the strikes, each fist marked by a

threatening index finger. The pig tailed martial artist was silently

thankful for his father and his ways - dishonorable, yes, but

effective, just as much so. He had been tempted to spy on Ryouga's

training by himself when he'd first seen Cologne and they'd set the

date for this thing. He'd put it off a little while, mainly to deal

with Akane, when Genma had gone off and done it for him. Thankful, in

that his old man hardly had any pride to lose in doing such a thing,

though of course, it was a critical part of the practice of Anything-

Goes. The whole point, he'd been taught, and firmly believed, of a

fight was to win.



    Nothing more, nothing less.



    And in so doing, the ends justified the means. If it involved

running from the fight, the school allowed it. If it involved stealing

techniques, down to the name, the school allowed it. Truthfully, the

School of Anything-Goes allowed anything and everything, honor aside.

Ranma liked to believe he was above that, really, but he knew as well

as his father did that if he had to, winning was what Musabetsu Kakuto

Ryu was about. Jumping back and out of the way of a well timed, but a

bit too slow axe kick, Ranma paused to access his rival anew. He was

faster, true, a little calmer and more skilled, also true. But what,

really, had improved?



    Ryouga smiled. Ranma was still as fast as ever. A little faster

than when he'd been manhandled and humiliated by him back in Nerima,

yes, but much faster... no. Rather, he was more flexible and quicker

to dodge than he had been in previous fights. An effective counter to

what he had thought the Bakusai Tenketsu capable of, but now knew

wasn't. Ranma should have figured it out. Why would the old ghoul

teach him a technique that would destroy exactly what she was trying

to win for her precious Shampoo? And... who, exactly, had told Ranma

that his rival was learning the Bakusai Tenketsu?



    "Like to see it, would you?" Ryouga held up his index finger, like

the barrel of a gun, and pointed at his opponent, "To think... I can

destroy you with a touch. Even a ...glancing blow, and you'll be

nothing more than a pile of split entrails and torn flesh. And, the

funny thing is, your breaking point could be almost anywhere."



    Ranma twitched, and Ryouga knew he'd scored a minor victory. Ranma

hadn't quite come to terms with what he apparently thought the Bakusai

Tenketsu could do to him. His fear would work against him; Ryouga

swore it. Roaring, he jumped, hand down and aimed at the smaller boy.

Ranma's eyes widened like a frightened dear, and he performed a small,

quick jump to easily get out of the way. An infusion of ki hit the

ground just as Ryouga did, and the earth below his feet exploded. It

was a simple, midrange explosion - he had just enough control over it

now to slightly vary the effect. Spraying dust and shrapnel

everywhere, none of which could hurt Ryouga anyway, the blast formed

an effective cover.



    "Geez!" Ranma's right hand was a blur, catching the rock fragments

in midair before they could hit him and depositing them in his cupped

left hand. Save for some dust on his clothes, Ranma was unscathed,

"What is this? A smoke screen?"



    "HYAH!" Ranma's had cocked to the side just as Ryouga's finger

tore through the air. He flew by, his hand burying into the ground

behind Ranma, evoking another explosion of earth and rock. Ryouga

skidded through the blast, and without hesitation, jumped again at

Ranma. He switched to both hands, forcing Ranma into a complex weave

of ducks and dodges to avoid being tagged. Interspersed with the

attacks was the occasional regular jab or counter, but largely, Ranma

was on the defensive. Above them, Akane shifted slightly to try and

follow the fight. She was a martial artist herself, and had spent the

last few days watching Ranma train with his father. It had been

grueling, at least to her, trying to dodge and stun all those bees

without being stung, yet Ranma had done it. But Ryouga... Ryouga

seemed to have spent all this time learning a technique that couldn't

help him. She'd heard about it, naturally, and it seemed powerful; the

ability to destroy with a touch, but what good was it when Ranma was

too fast to be hit? And when Ryouga missed, he ended up hitting the

ground. The result was that shrapnel pummeled Ryouga because he was at

the center of the blast, and Ranma was left with only a fraction of

the debris to deal with, and deal with much more easily.



    "I don't understand," Akane voiced her confusion, and seeing

Shampoo below her, rephrased what she was thinking, "Why would Cologne

teach such a thing? I though she wanted Ryouga to beat Ranma!"



    "Silly violent girl," Shampoo snorted in derision.



    Cologne agreed, "Tendo girl, you will see soon enough what my

pupil has learnt. And the true power behind the Bakusai Tenketsu."



    In the field, Ranma and Ryouga's feet shifted back and forth as

the lost boy continued to strike and his opponent dodge. Ryouga hopped

over an attempted trip, and replied with a roundhouse forcing Ranma to

duck. Normally, he'd attempt to get some breathing and maneuvering

room at this point, but as Ryouga spun and saw Ranma, eyes watching

his hands, he decided to press the issue. It was time to show Ranma

just what he was up against. A trio of quick strikes forced Ranma to

twist to avoid, and the smaller boy grinned, "You're slowing down, P-

chan! Any more of those Breaking Point blasts, and you'll put yourself

out of action for me!"



    "Stuff it!" Ryouga snarled, lunged, and in so doing, overextended

himself.



    Ranma pivoted, expertly, into position, "Then maybe I should end

this... right now!"



    A vicious snap kick caught Ryouga across the jaw. Ranma felt his

leg protest a bit; he'd put a lot of power into that blow, but with a

lethal technique like the Bakusai Tenketsu in Ryouga's arsenal, he

knew better than to tempt fate by trading blows with him and asking

for a lucky blow to end his life in a most grizzly fashion. Ryouga

arched through the air, and crashed into the side of the nearby rock

outcropping, just as the pig-tailed martial artist had planned. Ryouga

landed hard, and with him fell a small landslide of stone and earth,

thoroughly burying him. Ranma smirked, "Heh. Easier than I thought."



    Then, he saw Shampoo jump up and away out of the corner of his

eye.



    He also saw Akane's eyes widen in surprise and look past him, in

Ryouga's direction. What he saw when he faced that direction... was a

dark crack in the earth from the depths of the landslide to the tips

of his toes. A massive explosion, dwarfing the previous ones, easily

consumed three-dozen square feet of the ground below, and quickly

droned out his gasp of surprise. Hanging from Akane's rope, he saw the

shadow of a familiar figure emerge from the settling cloud of dust and

debris. It was Ryouga.



    And he was laughing.



    "It... it can't be!" Ranma gasped.



    "Weak! That felt like a baby's kick!" Ryouga smirked, one canine

sticking out over his left lip, "No. Actually, it felt like a little

girl's kick!"



    Akane was speechless. Ranma's ears, meanwhile, practically steamed

in anger, but he held himself back from jumping into the fray, if only

for a few seconds, "You...!"



    "Still think you can beat him, son-in-law?" Cologne's wrinkled

face seemed to gloat from above him. Standing on the branch to which

Akane was tied, Cologne seemed quite pleased with herself.



    "Damn it, old ghoul! I can beat him anytime! I trained too, damn

it!"



    "You practiced dodging," Akane pointed out.



    "I... uh..."



    "Still think you can win?" Akane's voice held a hint of malice.



    "Hey! What's with the attitude?" Ranma suddenly turned from her

and ducked, as a razor edged bandanna-made-shuriken passed overhead

and cut the rope holding them up. Ranma frowned in frustration and

anger - the bandanna hadn't been thrown to kill, or else he'd likely

have it sticking through his chest, but he had let Akane distract him

from the fight, and the danger that Ryouga had become. Shifting, he

caught Akane and aimed for a soft landing. He was thankful she didn't

cause a fuss, and let her go just before he touched ground.



    "I don't need any help Ranma," Akane kept calm. She had learnt

that her cooking was... sub par recently, but Ranma had eaten it. More

out of necessity than anything, but he had. The last few days had been

far from perfect, but they'd been bearable after the first two.

Besides, Ryouga had said she had no place in this fight, and she knew

Ranma thought the same. It was best for both of them in the long run,

if she didn't interfere, and she knew it.



    "Neither do I," Ranma stressed, and turned to where Ryouga stood,

calm and unafraid of anything Ranma could throw at him. He didn't

hesitate, before jumping back into the fight. Ryouga just grinned, and

brought one finger forward, a faint but visible battle aura beginning

to form around him, starting at the shoulders and rippling down his

form like a dark cloak.



    "Bakusai Tenk..."



    "Bakusai Tenketsu BLOCK!" Ranma's momentum came to a halt as he

caught Ryouga's finger at the base between two of his own. For a

tangible half second, the two hung there, paused in midair, before

Ryouga's grin faded. He spun, taking Ranma with him, before coming to

an abrupt halt, slamming the smaller boy's feet firmly into the

ground. Ranma shook from the impact, but knew what was going to happen

next. Ryouga's other hand was already cocked and incoming. Quickly,

desperately, Ranma brought two fingers up to block Ryouga's one.



    Then Ryouga's right index finger retreated into his fist, which

subsequently plowed through the Bakusai Tenketsu Block and became well

acquainted with Ranma's jaw. Ranma tasted blood, and again became

personally reminded of why being hit, full force, by Ryouga Hibiki was

a very unhealthy thing. He felt his body fly back through the air,

before a tug, starting around his right wrist brought him back forward

like a human yo-yo. He saw, in that instant, that Ryouga's right hand

was around the wrist of his right hand. The same hand that still held

Ryouga's left index finger in a Bakusai Tenketsu Block. After that,

stars filled the air as Ryouga's elbow dented itself on his collarbone

and a perfectly executed backhand sent him flying back and into a

tree. In the subsequent impact, the old oak had the worst of it, but

not by a lot.



    Ranma got to his feet, a bit dazed, but quickly recovering.

Ryouga's blows had been like those of an industrial strength

piledriver; he was even stronger than Ranma remembered from past

fights. Spitting blood, Ranma received Ryouga as he charged, both

hands in the position for a fight ending Bakusai Tenketsu. Rolling

back, and not willing to make the same mistake twice, Ranma easily

caught the first strike, and lunged with his right hand to get the

other before the lost boy could curl it into a fist. Ranma knew all

too well that he'd made an almost fatal mistake. Ryouga had made him

commit to blocking a Bakusai Tenketsu, the block for which,

unfortunately, was useless against a regular fist. Ryouga snarled,

just inches from Ranma's face, as they rolled with both boys'

momentum. With practiced ease, in unison, they pushed off - Ranma with

his legs and Ryouga with his knees, going airborne.



    "Now! With both hands blocked... you're mine!" Ranma's right leg

struck out a dozen times, like an angry serpent, pummeling Ryouga's

midriff even as they flew together through the air. Blow after blow

landed, and Ryouga's back arched slightly from it all, before

slamming, full force, into the broad base of another tree. The poor

tree split up the middle from the impact, spraying them with droplets

of sap, and Ryouga's back, crushed between the tree and Ranma's blows,

straightened out as they slid to the ground.



    The lost boy looked up, and chuckled, "I told you... Ranma..."



    Ranma felt his lower lip tremble. How had the lost boy survived

that?!



    "You hit like a GIRL!" Ryouga's hair filled Ranma's vision as the

unexpected head butt struck true, sending Ranma flying and skidding

off the ground and into another tree.



    "Kuso," Ranma slowly got to his feet, worse for wear than he had

been when he had gotten up just a short while ago. It was like a bad

case of deja'vu, and Ranma knew it wasn't getting him anywhere, "I

didn't want to do this, Ryouga!"



    "Oh? And what's that?" Ryouga took a few slow steps forward.



    "SAOTOME SECRET TECHNIQUE!"



    "What? Secret technique?" Ryouga was committed to the lunge, and

felt a moment of panic as he realized he'd left himself open to

letting Ranma use his secret technique. Outwardly, he kept his speed

and course. Inwardly, he braced himself. Like slow motion, Ranma

deftly avoided the hasty Bakusai Tenketsu lunge, turned around, and...



    "Run!"



    "Excuse me?" Ryouga couldn't help but stare as Ranma ran away.

Fast.



    "That..." Shampoo stammered.



    "Was the..." Akane mouthed.



    "Saotome Secret Technique?" Ryouga completed. Slowly, shock

passed. Replacing it was rage, "Running away... always! ALWAYS RUNNING

AWAY! I won't have it! Get back here you COWARD!"



    "Hmm," Genma-panda held up a contemplative sign, "A wise move. The

Saotome Secret Technique is based in..."



    He flipped the sign over, "The concepts of 'motion,'

'contemplation,' and 'opposition.'"



    "So basically you run away to buy time!" Akane yelled.



    "Exactly!" Genma-panda sweat-dropped.



    "Ayia! What stupid technique!" Shampoo bopped the panda upside the

head.



    "Its harder than you think," a sign wavered, before joining its

owner on the ground.



    "We'd best follow them," Cologne looked at the two girls, and

hopped off into the forest. It wasn't hard to find Ryouga - he was

talking very loudly, and was still in 'battle mode' so he hadn't

gotten all that lost in the short span of time between running off in

search of Ranma and now. It was deeper into the woods that they saw

him, standing, his battle aura having grown with anger; bits of black

interspersed with the red and faint tints of green.



    "Show yourself, you coward!" Ryouga roared, and looked around,

"Fool. Do you really think running into the woods will save you?"



    "Ryouga!"



    The boy in question faced the sound, and saw Ranma bouncing from

one tree branch to another, obviously gaining momentum. A millisecond

later, a girl, a panda, an ancient Amazon and her great granddaughter

came to the same conclusion.  Ryouga, however, just smiled and braced

himself to take the blow. The recoil would make it a little stronger,

true, but not nearly enough to break though and cause any damage. More

importantly, when Ranma found out his little idea was pointless and

futile, he'd be crushed. Emotionally anyway... the physical crushing

would come later.



    "HA! That tickles!" Ryouga winced a bit at the blow. It felt...

odd, but he ignored it and planted a good haymaker across the side of

Ranma's face. Ranma took it in full, and crashed through one smaller

tree, splintering the trunk in his passing, before hitting another

larger, sturdier, one and stopping. Ryouga felt a spark of

satisfaction dull as his stomach protested. Holding his abdomen,

Ryouga looked up at Ranma, who was ...smirking?



    "So it tickles, eh?!"



    "A lucky blow. I'll make you regret it!" Ryouga lunged again, and

watched. Ranma took a step back, brought up one hand to brush aside

the Bakusai Tenketsu attack, and brought one hand back to strike. It

was a fairly simple position and stance, but Ryouga wasn't interested

in the rest of his opponent's body. He concentrated on the striking

hand. True to form, he felt more than saw the tingle of ki enter it,

and saw it shoot out. Not once, but a hundred times, and then a

hundred more. His body reeled from the hits, but Ryouga counted every

blow, all 268 of them.



    "Interesting," Ryouga wiped some stray sweat from under his jaw,

still smiling. Idly, he figured he probably smiled more when fighting

than when not. The thought came and went. Ryouga had a fight to deal

with first. The musing would come later, "At least you're making this

worthwhile, Ranma."



    Watching the fight, Akane gasped, "Of course! It looks like a

single blow, but Ranma's actually hitting him hundreds of times in the

same place!"



    "No wonder lost boy actually feel hurt!" Shampoo clutched the

kettle tightly. She had felt some need to intervene in the beginning,

before it got serious. Now... now it was something different

entirely... no one could stop it, now.



    "Son-in-law's speed training certainly seems to be paying off

now," Cologne seemed impassive, "But the longer the fight drags on,

the more likely he is to lose."



    "But...,"



    Akane was about to speak when Shampoo held up her hand, "Just

watch, violent girl."



    "Yes. At least you're finally doing some damage now. But is it

enough? And how many more of those do you have in you before you

tire?" Ryouga rose both hands in a neutral stance.



    "Geez!" Ranma thought; mind reeling, "This guy's a monster!"



    "Prepare yourself, Ranma!" Ryouga attacked, this time with fists,

feet and fury. Ranma felt blood as a glancing kick nicked his upper

lip, and spun to capitalize on Ryouga's change in tactics. The lost

boy, however, was far quicker than Ranma had expected. He was far

faster, in fact, than experience had ever shown him to be before.

Before Ranma knew it, Ryouga had him by the throat. As one leg flew

through the air, over and into the ground, cementing Ryouga's

position, he lifted Ranma effortlessly off the ground. Ranma's legs

kicked, Amaguriken style, scoring ten dozen hits across his opponent's

chest, but Ryouga's grip was like a vice, and he laughed off the pain

of the blows.



    "Did you listen to me?" Ryouga's left hand curled into a fist,

save for one finger. Like an executioner's axe, for Ranma, it signaled

only one thing, "Are you prepared? ...For death?"



    "N... No," Ranma struggled, hands trying vainly to pry the fingers

from his throat. Ryouga's index finger was slowly coming closer.



    "Its over, Ranma. You die now," Ryouga's finger lunged.



    "RANMA!!" Akane screamed.



    "AKANE!!" Ranma's voice joined hers. He closed his eyes and

wondered if it would hurt, or if the gods would be merciful enough to

kill him swiftly and painlessly. Would he feel his body coming apart?

Exploding like all those rocks Ryouga had destroyed earlier?



    Ranma blinked, as Ryouga's finger tapped his temple, just enough

to hurt, but not enough to smash through bone and kill, as it could

have had he put all his strength into it. Shivering, Ranma hit the

ground clumsily. The reality that he was still alive slowly came home,

and he quickly checked to make sure. With a sigh of relief, he

realized he hadn't wet himself... but the relief of being alive

quickly turned into the humiliation and anger of the same as he looked

up and saw Ryouga... laughing.



    "You... you think this is funny?" Ranma hissed.



    Ryouga's eyes narrowed, "The Bakusai Tenketsu doesn't work on

living creatures. I... Played... You."



    "Damn you," Ranma got back up, gritting his teeth, "I'll make you

pay!"



    "Eh?" Ryouga's eyes closed, instinctively, as well over two

hundred blows rained down, not on his chest or torso, but on his face.

Step by step, he backed off, tiny droplets of red falling to the cold

ground in a small trail. Ryouga looked through dirty, bloodied vision

at the angry red and blue aura, not the normal subdued colors, dancing

around Ranma's body. Lowering his hand, he then saw exactly what all

that wetness on his cheek and upper eye was.



    Blood.



    Ranma had drawn blood.



    Ranma had attacked his... face.



    "No mercy," Ryouga snarled, "An eye for an eye... Ranma."



    "Shut up, P-chan," Ranma's voice was low, menacing.



    Ryouga wasn't fazed.



    It quickly became obvious to those watching that it had gone far

beyond even the duel it was before. Both boys were now exchanging

blows furiously. Counter met counter, block met hold, met strike, met

parry. Ryouga jumped, suddenly, in a flying kick that sent Ranma

whirling backwards, arms flailing for balance, into a massive old tree

that just barely absorbed the impact, sharing damage with the

unfortunate martial artist that crashed into it. Ryouga didn't wait -

didn't hesitate, to take advantage of the situation. His legs spun,

gaining momentum and inertia, three roundhouses filled the air before

the fourth hit just where Ranma had been the millisecond before. In a

spray of blasted bark and splinters, the tree was kicked in half by

the blow.



    Ryouga's leg had cut through the tree like a knife through butter.





    Ranma, meanwhile, tucked in and kicked up, catching Ryouga in the

lower sternum. It would have broken the ribs and half the internal

organs of a normal person, and probably instantly killed him, but

Ryouga simply flipped in midair, letting the strength behind the blow

carry him up and away, landing a few feet from where he was hit.

Snarling, again the two attacked each other, slamming into and through

trees, pulverizing stray blocks, only the occasional roars of "Bakusai

Tenketsu!!" and "Kachuu Tenshi Amaguriken!" bearing witness to the

humanity of the two fighters.



    "Akane! No go near them!" Shampoo held Akane firm. There were

tears in the girl's eyes, but both Amazons suspected Akane's

intervention, now, would only make things worse, like throwing gas on

an already raging fire. Amid the ruined forest, Ryouga stumbled,

slightly, as his left kidney took another hundred or so precise blows.

It was painful, and a big risk, but Ranma was moving in for another

set of blows. The smaller boy was running on adrenalin only, but

Ryouga knew he had more than enough to last another few minutes. If he

did, he'd burn out his body and ki reserves, and likely actually cause

some serious internal injuries. Concentrating, Ryouga instead let the

ki flow into his arms.



    It was time.



    "Kachuu..." both boys said at the same time.



    "Tenshi..." they echoed.



    "Amaguriken!!!" they collided.



    Akane blinked, and it was over.



    Ranma gasped, breaking the silence. Ryouga ran his tongue over his

teeth to make sure they were there before biting back the bile

threatening to pour up from deep inside him. Ranma was choking, and

spitting blood, but he was still alive, if barely. His shoulder was

hanging oddly - Ryouga thought he'd knocked it out of the socket in

their last exchange, and was darkly proud to see his expectations

confirmed. Hand trembling slightly, he reached for his belt. Looking

down, he saw that it was ripped, but shrugged, and infused a tiny bit

of ki into the material. It hardened to the strength of diamond - a

sword stronger than even Kuno could imagine. Unbreakable...

unstoppable.



    Unsteadily, Ryouga let the blade come between them in silent

challenge. Ranma was wounded. Beaten. This was the end... of it all.



    "Ranma."



    Ryouga's right ear, not swollen like the left and so far

undamaged, picked up the faint voice.



    "Ranma!"



    "Shut up," he winced at hearing it, but his voice was soft.



    "Ranma!!"



    "Shut up!" Ryouga whirled on the direction of the voice, "I'm

tired of RANMA! I'm SICK of it! SICK do you hear me!?"



    Ryouga felt the flying tackle hit him in the gut. It didn't hurt,

and it refocused him on the matter at hand. The Tormentor! The Bread

Thief! The Arrogant Bastard! The Curser and Liar! The Destroyer of

Lives! The CAUSE of it all! ...Ranma.



    Ranma must die.



    "Ranma must," Ryouga adjusted the self-made blade in his hands,

and cupped them together to drive what remained of his belt-sword into

the pig-tailed nemesis' back, "DIE!"



    The sky opened up, just then, and Ryouga saw the land pass Ranma's

feet. They were in the air.



    "RANMA!!"



    No matter. First things first: Ranma. Die.



    "NOOO!!!"



    The water engulfed them. The voice was gone, thankfully: that

screeching, pleading voice... crying for HIM of all people.

Unfortunately, while it was now blissfully silent, it was also wet. HE

was wet. Opening his eyes, Ryouga confirmed it. On the other hand,

from where he was, he had an excellent view of Ranma-chan slowly

sinking to the bottom of the lake. A bag of popcorn, a cold cup of

cola, and it would have been perfect. Like the ending to that movie he

had walked in on once...



    After all: Ranma must die.



    Right?



    Ranma the Tormentor. Who ruined what little respect he had

garnered in school over the course of years. Destroyed in the

proverbial blink of an eye. The same Ranma that mocked and taunted and

goaded and badgered and humiliated him on a DAILY BASIS! Ranma the

Tormentor MUST DIE!



    Right?



    Ranma the Bread Thief! Who single handedly denied him food for

over a week. Who single handedly forced him to BEG and SCRAPE for food

outside in the STREETS. Ranma who made a point to intercept and take

ONLY what Ryouga himself had needed... so desperately... Ranma, who no

doubt never knew the feel of real, burning, gnawing hunger. Ranma the

Bread thief MUST DIE!



    Right?



    Ranma the Arrogant! Ranma the Conceited! Ranma the Center of the

Universe! Ranma with the world handed to him on a silver platter!

Ranma who had everything Ryouga ever dreamed of, and spat at it! Ranma

the Full-Of-Himself MUST DIE!



    ...Right?



    And worst of them all. Ranma the Curser and the Liar. Who kicks

random people into cursed pools, and doesn't even realize it - the

same Ranma who, through action or inaction, curses everyone around

him! Ranma the LIAR, who twists and distorts his word and his honor at

a whim! Ranma the Curser... Ranma the Liar... no matter how you phrase

it, RANMA MUST DIE!



    No.



    "Akane...," Ryouga's pig form shook with the memory, "Akane loves

him. It was her voice."



    Diving, Ryouga quickly caught up with Ranma's retreating form.

Snagging his sleeve in a set of jaws few piglets could match, be began

to do what he could. To his credit, he had managed to stop the

sinking, but lacked the simple physical ability to pull him/her from

the cold water. Worse, he was rapidly running out of air. In passing,

he considered that it was better this way. All the toughness and

training in the world wouldn't keep him from drowning here, by the

body of his rival, at the bottom of some nameless, forgotten lake in

the middle of nowhere. It was... a Hibiki's death.



    No.



    He denied it.



    They... Akane, Shampoo, and Cologne, found the two of them washed

up on the shore a minute later. Shampoo had changed him back. Cologne

had revived Ranma herself, without the need for CPR, thankfully.

And... of course, Akane had found out about the curse. That last

memory was the worst. The most damning and burning of them all... it

haunted him. Mocked him. Taunted him. He could walk a thousand miles,

and never escape from the look of anger and disgust on her face.



    Yes... suffice to say, a lot happened that day.



~Present~



    "I try not to think about it," Ryouga's voice was low. The natural

response to that memory was more reassurance to himself than for

anyone else to hear. Slowly, he lowered his map and looked over it.



    Ranma looked about to say something.



    Ryouga's eyes were narrow.



    Silence reigned.



    After all. What was there to say?



    Eyes closed, the lost boy casually folded the map in half, and

twice again, before slipping it under his belt, to his side, just out

of sight. Ranma tensed instantly, and the air seemed to thicken with

anticipation. A millimeter and a second later, Ryouga's mouth curved

into a shallow smile. Yes... It was defiantly good to be back.















    Author's Notes.



    The idea for this fic came when I read over the BT fight in the

manga, and realized that it was a more important moment than I had

previously thought. That, and it occurred to me all the times Ryouga

kept thinking to himself, and starting to come to terms with things

(mainly Akane and Ranma) he always claimed to need some time to sort

through his thoughts. Unfortunately, for him anyway, that was always

two seconds before Akane or Ranma walked up behind him and ruined the

moment. So, here I gave him just that - the time and opportunity to

think about his situation and what he wanted to do in life, and a

somewhat sympathetic ear.



    Why Shampoo?



    Why not? She was conspicuously absent in the manga of this story

(and the anime), so you could consider bringing her along the critical

moment. They have enough in common - more, in fact, than most

characters. Both suffer a de-humanizing curse, chase after people who

don't really want them... both are fighters, and both believe in

honor. In those similarities, however, there are differences: Shampoo

takes her curse in stride, while Ryouga loathes his. Shampoo is open

with her feelings; Ryouga is guarded. Ryouga's honor is a personal

code, and Shampoo's is an extension of her village's.



    The Fight.



    Ryouga has always been stronger and possessed of more stamina than

Ranma. The pig-tailed boy has always had a bit more skill and speed.

In the anime, Ryouga never learnt the Amaguriken because of his pig

curse - not because he was too slow. Shampoo sticking around, I

figured, would be enough to pique his pride and force him to learn it.

Similarly, I also made the BT training itself a little... harsher than

in the manga or anime, simply because I felt it fit the mood. The

Fight itself, between Ranma and Ryouga, proceeded accordingly.



    Ryouga himself. He's more mature, more experienced, and probably

more detached and deadly than the normal Ryouga. I used the manga

Ryouga here, mainly, because he's more formidable than his anime

counterpart, and I wanted to go with that. The Directional Curse I

figured had to be an actual curse, and not anything biological, in

which case there would have to be two families of directionless people

walking around... and that just didn't fit, IMHO. Agewise, I oppose

the 'Simpsons' years of the normal Ranmaverse (ie: two years pass, and

everyone's the same age.)... so Ryouga, Ranma, Akane, etc... are all

18, with Ryouga being a few months older than the other two. Mousse I

always picture as a little older, and may be just turning 19. Kuno and

Nibiki would be the same, and Kasumi would be 21. Tofu would be older

still, probably 30, and Cologne and Happosai would be 302....







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