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

her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. A few others are

mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to

be used commercially. ...Obviously.





"Learning Curve"

        Part VI



by:   J. Wagner   (Mako)

jbw@wpi.edu





Akane's mouth moved, but no words came out. Her vision was far from

clear, and her head was spinning to the point where it became nearly

impossible to concentrate or focus on any one thing. Her mind flashed

back to what seemed to have only been moments before. There had been a

terrible splash and impact. She had used the pain, rode it up to

galvanize her muscles and body, and started to try and move in a

coordinated manner.



She was in water... she was sinking, drowning, and worse, she couldn't

see. Her wide-open eyes could only see a torrent of black shadows,

stark white bubbles, and rushing dark blue. She remembered gulping for

another desperate breath, which went somehow wrong, as if she had

sucked in an icicle. Then, suddenly, there had been nothingness, and

it was like the moment between sleep and consciousness, when, if only

for a moment, the mind works, but the body is stiff as a corpse.



And just as suddenly, she felt air enter her lungs, and water leave

her mouth. She opened her eyes, praying to see something familiar to

cling to, but her vision instead shivered with unnatural color, as if

the world around, tress, grass, people, everything was producing light

instead of reflecting it. She could barely inhale now; save for short,

rapid, ragged gasps and hiccups.



She became aware, then, that water was tricking out of her nose and

down her upper lip. She wiped at it, and that single tiny irritation,

became the focus that anchored her. She blinked, and it was like a

dream, passing away, and she could hardly remember any of it. Starting

to get up, despite the weakness in her body, Akane felt a hand on her

shoulder, and looked. A word came to her mouth, unbidden.



"Ranma?"



"Ah... Akane, you up? You feeling ok?"



"Shampoo?" Akane blinked, not really believing it. Looking past the

Chinese girl, she saw a decent sized campfire, and two people seated

around it. The one closest inclined his head, slightly, and she caught

sight of a bandanna holding waves of dark hair at bay. Past him,

opposite her from the fire, she saw two blue-gray eyes, looking out

from the shadows of a crop of wild hair. They dropped, as soon as her

own eyes met them, in favor of staring into the fire, the movement of

the head flicking a distinct pigtail over his shoulder.



"Shampoo? Ryouga?" Akane licked her lips - they were dry, which was

something she found very odd, given the circumstances, "What are...

how did you two get here?"



"Silly Tendo girl," Shampoo leaned back, giving Akane room to sit up,

though unsteadily at first.



"She's very good at tracking people down," Ryouga smiled, though it

seemed a bit forced... as if he was holding something important back,

"How do you feel, Akane-san? When we found you and Ranma, you were

...a little out of it."



Akane hadn't missed the dark blush that appeared on Ranma's cheeks as

Ryouga talked, or that Shampoo had turned away to stare at the trees.

Inching closer to the fire, to warm her hands, she tried to catch more

of Ranma's face, but he was avoiding giving her just such an

opportunity. She decided to be done with it.



"What happened? I remember... I remember hitting the water. And

blacking out."



"Ranma dragged you out," Ryouga answered, "He was pretty hurt himself,

but he did it. He also..."



"Hey," Ranma broke in, "It wasn't anything important, ok?"



Ryouga gave him a quick look, and relented, "Well, he saved your life,

Akane-san."



Shampoo snorted softly.



Akane didn't hear it.



"Thank you, Ranma," she leaned in a little closer, and caught his eyes

moving up to finally see her.



"Yeah, well," he looked up, and waved it off, "Somebody had to keep

you from drowning. Being built like a brick and all."



"As opposed to just having a head like one, right?" Akane smiled.



Ranma shook his head.



"You feel up to fight, Akane?" Shampoo cracked her knuckles.



"What?"



"Not fight Shampoo! Fight monster boy!"



"Yeah. Him," Ryouga scowled, and stood up. He inclined his head, and

Akane followed it to see a billowing pyre of fire and smoke, set on a

cliff overhanging the water, "He still has Nabiki... but not for long.

Not once I get my hands on him."



"Now that you're up and ok, we can head out," Ranma started to build

up some of his normal bluster, "You ready, man?"



"I've been ready for hours now," Ryouga balanced his umbrella in his

open palm.



"Good, then..."



"Wait!" Akane jumped to her feet, startling the two men, "You can't

just climb up there! The whole place is one big water trap... you're

both sure to get splashed!"



"Splashed?" Ryouga's eyes widened, and he looked over the distance

they'd need to climb before they got to the summit of the cliff, and

to the fire. Water traps... of course. It all made sense now! When

expecting to fight the Jyusenkyou cursed, why not pick a battlefield

where your advantage will be as great as possible? Ryouga had fought

with this pantyhose person before, and he was confident that, so long

as they both stayed human, he would be able to simply overwhelm him

with his superior strength and endurance. His cursed form would be a

much more difficult opponent, but he was sure that with Ranma and

Shampoo together, they'd be able to overcome the creature as well.



But Ranma, P-chan, and an angry tabby?



They wouldn't have much of a chance in a straight up fight with this

monster. He growled, deep in his throat. Once again, his curse was

keeping him from doing what needed to be done. Keeping him from those

he cared about.



"Is there another way up?" he asked, keeping his voice level and

approaching calm, "There has to be another way up."



"He always flew in..."



"What about blasting in from underneath? Ryouga... you think you could

Bakusai Tenketsu down and up, into the place?"



"Not a problem... unless I hit a water vein. If the place is really a

'water trap' then it won't be possible, because the tunnels will flood

and collapse anyway."



"He called it the Temple of the Watery Grave," Akane explained,

tightly, "But..."



"But?" Shampoo prompted.



"But I remember the way I came down. There weren't any traps there

that I saw. But that was only halfway up from the top to here. Maybe

less."



"Well, it doesn't look like we've got much of a choice," Ranma's voice

took on a truly determined tone. For him, at least, the decision had

already been made.



"For once, Saotome, I agree," Ryouga's eyes narrowed at the signal

fire, "Arrogant little bastard. Let's go... I won't allow him to keep

her another night there. Not without a fight!"



"Right," Ranma faced Shampoo and Akane, "Akane... you can come, but

don't do anything stupid, alright? This guy is dangerous."



"You think I don't know that?" she cuffed him on the cheek, lightly,

"Baka."



Shampoo looked at the two, and occupied herself by smothering the

campfire. Softly, she cursed both Tendo sisters equally. It was just

loud enough for a certain someone to hear, but Ryouga had already

decided to ignored the banter; keeping his mind focused on the task at

hand.



"Hang on, Nabi-chan," he clenched his fist, and moved, keeping his eye

on the large fire in the distance, and trusting those with him to keep

his course straight and true, "I'm coming."



***



Pearl Adams had been waiting for almost two hours, by the look of

the old two-handed clock to his left, which sat peacefully on one of

the room's tables. His hand touched the cool glass of the office

window that opened out onto downtown Hong Kong, and he looked down at

the tiny scurrying forms of people below, and the crowded streets that

crisscrossed the city. Truthfully, it made him uncomfortable. Cities

were like ant nests, and it made him seem small and unimportant in the

grand scheme of things. He much preferred the delusion of importance.



He adjusted his collar nervously, went around the large central

desk that dominated the office, and sat down. The chair seemed to have

been purposefully engineered to make those unfortunate enough to end

up in it uncomfortable. Looking ahead, he tapped his finger

impatiently on the smooth marble of the desk, flanked and held up by

finely crafted balsa wood. The top of the desk itself was clear,

except for a large flat screen computer monitor, folded down and

blending into the dark marble underneath it. On the other side, a

small plaque read only 'Bishop Chen' in stark gold on black English.



Undecorated walls supported the office's high ceilings.

Undecorated, save for a large and unusual curved sword, heavy looking,

and hanging near a few framed pictures on a single wall, which had a

cream white door. Above, hung from the ceiling, a large fan spun

softly and slowly. He looked up at it, and when he looked down again,

a man sat in front of him, behind the desk, wearing an irritated

frown. In appearance, the man seemed around forty or forty-five, stout

but not corpulent, with a pleasantly ugly face and great strong

sausage fingered hands, one of which seemed to be clenched

uncomfortably. Both his eyes were a strong shade of blue, and his lips

turned down as if he were perpetually inclined towards pessimism, or

at best, bland neutrality. He was obviously slightly balding, and kept

his hair short, even cut, in an almost military fashion. His forehead

was high and innocent of wrinkles, which gave his face a younger

aspect belied by the lines around his mouth and eyes.



"Yes?" he asked, frown still firmly in place, "Let's hear it. What did

you learn?"



Adams, himself, was tall, his head capped by wholly white-blond hair

with ashy brown skin acquired by years of hiking and tracking in the

Outback. Still, despite the height and age advantage, he wasn't quite

used to private audiences at this social level, or in similar

environs. This was his first reporting here in person, having sent a

detailed written report months before.



"Well," Adam cleared his throat, "His early intelligence tests were

normal, not exceptional. Before the age of ten, the tests showed some

immediate jumps, then about a year later, around eleven, they revealed

that he was kind of an idiot."



"Standard Aptitude tests, yes?" Bishop's English had an obvious

Russian accent to it, though his features belied some Asian traits.



"Yes, sir. It seems more likely, however, in light of already acquired

information that he simply doesn't test well."



Bishop leaned back, stood up, and walked to the far side of the room.

Tapping a panel of the wall, it opened, and he reached inside. After a

moment, he came back with a clear glass. He didn't offer any to the

still seated Adams, who suspected it was Vodka or some other strong

alcohol, and wouldn't have wanted any anyway. As he walked back to his

chair, the man spoke, "No records of childhood illness, I assume?"



"There are two possible explanations for that, sir," the younger blond

man shifted a bit, uncomfortable.



"Yes?"



"He did a great deal of moving around, as you know, so any major

illnesses may simply not have been adequately recorded, and minor ones

seen as not of consequence... or they may have gone untreated. Or..."



Bishop sat down.



"Or," Adam continued, "He may never have caught anything that needed

reporting or recording."



Bishop slowly smiled. The other man was obviously stepping outside his

expertise, "Major, are you at all curious about things that do not

affect you?"



"What do you mean, sir?"



"Do you know the largest structure in the world?"



"No, sir. Not off the top of my head."



"The most densely populated place on Earth?"



"No, sir."



"My background?"



"No," the man scowled, as If he were being mocked or tested.



"Most people are ignorant of most things. They often don't care to

know; tell them and they forget. The larger vision is lost in the day-

to-day minutiae, which they know well enough to get along. What about

the basic principles of Marxist macroeconomics?"



"Hell so, sir... pardon the language."



Bishop took a long drink, and set the empty glass down, "I'm a bit

ignorant of that myself. No curiosity at all about such things. Do you

worry about the world sometimes?"



"Sometimes, sir. Can't really be helped."



"Have you thought to complain to those in charge? Those in power?"



"Not really my place. There's so much to complain about, really, where

to begin?"



"Of course. You're an excellent officer, Mr. Adams."



"Thank you, sir."



Bishop's smile faded, and he looked down at the polished copperstone

floor, "Are you curious as to my interests regarding your mission...

this boy, and those around him?"



"Not really sir."



Bishop dismissed his statement with a shake of his head, "You are

curious. You see I know that this boy, and his acquaintances, never

had oh... measles, or any other childhood disease. And not because it

went unreported, or because of 'clean living.' This boy was more than

merely resistant or immune to such things."



"If you say so, sir."



"And his abilities... I know much of those things too. Intimately.

Perhaps I should send one of my personal aides to help you deal with

any potentially problematic situations regarding these people."



The other man said nothing, merely sat at parade rest, eyes fixed on

the opposite wall's great glass window overlooking the city. Bishop

could read the young man well enough without seeing into his mind; he

did not much believe all this, and knew little or nothing of his

personal guardsmen and women. Chen began again, "Can you continue to

find, follow, and track these people for me?"



"With sufficient numbers of additional officers, we can have around

the clock observation in place. At present, my small team is not well

equipped to deal with the sheer numbers of targets present in any

adequate fashion."



"Very well. The Society will provide you with what you need. Continue

to send reports. When I give the appropriate orders, you will

eliminate the targets, from a distance - shots to the head, to be

safe. Understood?"



"Yes, sir."



"I realize this is different from your normal assignments in China,

but it of the utmost importance, Major."



"Yes, sir."



"You will then have the bodies brought to my associates, especially

those of the primary targets. You will not use our criminal contacts

as anything except cover. The bodies must be in our hands within

twenty four hours."



"Sir," Major Adams stood, nodded once, and departed.



Bishop Chen rubbed his hands together, slowly, as he thought about the

future. He did not much trust the competence of any police, in any

country. They could be bribed easily enough, if need be, and convinced

to turn a blind eye... or two. So many implications, so many theories!

With a small, intent smile, he lost himself in speculation for several

minutes, and then went to his desktop informer to move on to other

matters that needed consideration. He scrolled through the information

gleaned by the informant, and his most loyal sources within the

Society and, most importantly, without.



After all, Marxist macroeconomics wasn't exactly rocket science.



***



"Looks like the whole gang's here... except for that old guy," Taro

smirked, "Come on."



"No need to manhandle me, you know," Nabiki gave a sharp tug away from

him with her shoulder, but couldn't get anywhere. Her arms were well

and tied behind her back, with pantyhose annoyingly enough (Taro

seemed to have a stash of them), and he had a good grip on her

restraints with his right hand. In the other he held a makeshift torch

that kept the twilight darkness at bay. It was probably around

midnight, though that would only be a guess.



"Looks like they see us. Good," Taro took a few steps forward, and

have her a hard shove forward. Mentally, Nabiki cursed how helpless

and indignant she probably looked - dirty, tied up, tired... But there

they were, down at the bottom of a slightly winding path, poised to

rush up and attack. Ranma and Akane seemed slightly ruffled, and a bit

sores for wear, but defiantly alive and active. Ryouga seemed to be

seething, and about to explode in their direction, and Shampoo seemed

a bit pensive, and taking the rear.



"Brought reinforcements, eh Faggot?" Taro taunted, "Come on pig-boy!

Come and get her!"



"Hold on, Nabiki!" Ranma called out, "We'll be right up!"



"No! Don't come any closer!" Nabiki yelled back down, hurting her

throat to make sure she was heard, "This place is full of traps!"



"We know!" Shampoo yelled back. The group paused, and Ranma and Ryouga

started to look for any signs of trap triggers obscured by the night's

darkness. Taro saw them, and quickly realized that if they looked too

closely, they would have a fair chance of actually seeing the traps

he'd set, even in the dark - one of the reasons he'd wanted them to

attack at night and set the signal fire.



"Alright," he softly said to himself, threw aside the torch, reached

to his sash, and then spoke up, "Listen up, boys and girls! If you

don't try and save this little cutie here..."



He whipped out a length of pantyhose, and made as if to put it over

Nabiki's head, "I'll hide that pretty face behind pantyhose!!"



"What?" Ranma didn't know whether to be disgusted, surprised, or

simply annoyed.



Ryouga, on the other hand, was without a doubt pissed off, "You

wouldn't dare!"



"We all know what people with pantyhose over their heads look like,"

Taro laughed, cruelly, "Stupid, that's what!"



"Is very shameful be covered with pantyhose," Shampoo nodded gravely.



"This is... quite possibly... the stupidest thing I've ever heard.

Like I would care if you put pantyhose over my head," Nabiki shook her

head.



"Oh yeah?" Taro growled, and tossed the pantyhose on the ground, took

her chin in his hand and forced her to face him, "How about this

then?"



"What...mmfh!"



Ranma couldn't help but gawk. He was kissing Nabiki. That took balls:

big brass balls. That, and Ryouga would undoubtedly now walk through

burning shards of glass to tear him limb from limb now. Akane simply

gasped. That bastard was actually kissing her sister! That... That...



"Pervert!" Akane yelled, fuming, taking a few steps forward.



"No," the voice was low, but without a doubt carried a dark and

dangerous edge. Ranma pivoted, and felt the heat of Ryouga's battle

aura blowing in his face. The lost boy was in a rage only matched by

the height of their battle, months ago, minus the depressive elements,

which was a good thing as Shampoo and Akane were both in range of the

'crushing' effect it had on things.



"NO," he said again, canines showing as his lips pulled back into a

snarl, "NOO!!!!"



He was going to charge, regardless of the water traps. Ranma was about

to hold him back, impossible though it probably was, when he blinked,

and Ryouga was a third of the way to his target. Taro hadn't even

broken from the kiss, as his right leg kicked out a nearby log. A

cascade of water immediately erupted to Ryouga's left and right,

flooding down the narrow riverbed Ranma now realized they'd been

following towards the signal fire. Ryouga's aura blazed against the

torrent of water for a moment before being simply overwhelmed and

swept away. In the white water and the darkness, Ranma couldn't even

see his friend/rival/former enemy as he was washed away.



"Ha! That sure did it," Taro pulled back, and gave Nabiki a cruel

smile, "Thanks."



Nabiki spat at him, but he dodged it without even trying. She quickly

decided to resort to words, her specialty, "That was terrible. Don't

get much practice with actual girls, do you?"



"Shut up," he turned back towards Ranma and Shampoo. They were already

on their way up, jumping to keep their contact with the ground

minimal. Smart.



Jumping back and away, with Nabiki in tow, Taro slung her over his

shoulder, backpedaled slightly, and jumped up using a series of

shortcuts to the top. Most of the way there, he stopped, and entered

the broad mouth of a cave, decorated by dark stalagmites and

stalactites. Hopping over a wire trap, and unceremoniously throwing

his hostage to the ground, Taro quickly bound her mouth and her wrists

with pantyhose, and then added another quick loop to a nearby

stalagmite, keeping her in place.



"Enjoy the accommodations," he gave her a quick mock salute, and

headed out. Now alone, he jumped up, gaining some height, and went in

search of his prey. It turned out to be easier than he expected.



"Where are you, you underwear obsessive? Come out you coward!!"



Taro stifled a quick laugh, and dropped softly to a nearby boulder,

near one of the traps he'd set up. Most of them, he'd scouted out and

prepared in his cursed form (mostly because he ended up getting wet

while doing it anyway, and because it involved a lot of heavy

lifting), and while his perception of the world was slightly different

in his monster form and only saw in black and white, he had an

excellent memory and went over everything twice in human form, so he

wouldn't forget.



His two opponents were both extremely dangerous individuals. One of

them, the boy with the piglet curse, was insanely strong and nearly

immune to conventional attacks. Amazingly, he was able to take

repeated blows from Taro's cursed form, and still get up with little

apparent injury. Worse, his technique was obviously well honed and

combat tested, at least against human opponents, and indeed, even

things much larger than a normal person. He was damn fast, too, though

not as fast as his friend with the pigtail. He seemed to compensate

with more weapons, either of the bladed variety in some version of the

Iron Cloth technique, or an incredibly durable umbrella, of all

things.



Luckily, he had the worst curse of the lot. It had been a bit of a

gamble, hoping that the water would take him out of the equation

early, but it had paid off. From his fights with the two, he'd

defiantly end up having more trouble in a fair fight with the pig boy,

rather than the pigtailed boy, though he'd really only skirmished with

the latter. It was the reason he'd been glad he'd still had that brown

haired girl as a hostage, since she and the pig cursed martial artist

were obviously an item.



What was this other one's name again?



"Ranma Saotome," Taro thought to himself, his excellent memory

recalling the name the girl had used to describe the guy in the

Chinese clothes. What concerned Taro about the little faggot was

mainly his style - it was obviously Joketsuzoku inspired. He hadn't

been sure at first, but the girl he had seen at that restaurant

before, and who was now looking for him, was also obviously a martial

artist. He wasn't totally sure, but he did remember hearing about an

Amazon girl getting a curse recently. Yes, while training with her

mentor, one of the Joketsuzoku Elders - no doubt that old crone that

had sent him flying back in Tokyo.



Shan Pu.



Khu Lon.



"Interesting," Taro couldn't help but smile. That little bit of

information could come in handy. One last quick leap carried him to

the left of his target, whose back was still to him, and Taro

immediately reached for a nearby rope, concealed as a vine. Below, the

pigtailed martial artist seemed to get an inclining of the trap, and

turned just as the rocks fell away and a wave of water exploded out of

the opening into the sunken area he was standing in.



Taro scowled, as his target jumped just an instant before the water

could hit him. The boy obviously had well honed danger precognition.

Better, perhaps, than Taro's own. Ranma twisted in midair, ricocheted

off a side of the wall, and towards where Taro had been standing.

'Had' being the imperative word. He had several backup traps set up

for just such a contingency, all in areas near where the main traps

were set off. And even if his opponent was quick and wary enough to

avoid those, there was always his backup third tier of defenses set up

on the temple battlefield itself.



"Come on. Come on... work, damn it."



Sighing in defeat, Nabiki Tendo finally gave up trying to weaken her

pantyhose-binds by scraping them against the rock she was tied to. It

was too slick to do any good, and the pantyhose themselves seemed to

be unusually strong. Not for the first time, she felt a buildup of

anger rise above her emotional controls. As it came, a slightly

tingling sensation in her arms began to build up, as she strained

against all reason.



Slowly, she remembered that there was no way she'd be able to break

free using brute force, and the sensation died down and finally

disappeared. Her concrete block-breaking sister could probably have

broken free eventually, but regular all-too-human Nabiki Tendo? Not a

chance. Still, there was that tingling in her arms... and she had been

feeling stronger and in better shape than ever before over the last

couple weeks and months. Ryouga had never really explained exactly

what his ki infusion did to her, and every time she asked, he gave

some roundabout explanation about how he wasn't completely sure, and

that it had something to do about life force and spiritual focus and a

bunch of other quasi-religious mumbo jumbo.



So she'd pretty much forgotten about it.



Until now, anyway.



Now here she was, tied up in some dank dark cave, a piece of bait in

some idiot's trap. And audacity of that creep continued to astound

her. He'd single handedly pissed off everyone she knew, nearly killed

two people in her family, and now totally humiliated her in front of

everyone, including Ryouga. It was unforgivable. Of course, now Ryouga

had turned into P-chan, and was probably miles away, Ranma was

probably already splashed, and if Shampoo had also been taken out of

action... that left Ranma-chan to fight Taro, probably in his monster

form, all by him/herself.



Not good.



Mentally, she went over Ranma's chances, given what she'd observed,

and what Ryouga had told her in half a dozen past conversations. His

most powerful move, the Hiryu Shoten Ha, wouldn't help here, as she'd

never seen or felt Taro unleash a battle aura, in either form. His

version of the Happo Dai Karin wasn't nearly as refined or as powerful

as Happosai's, and using it drained Ranma's ki reserves more than it

was usually worth. The Umisenken was a great school against human

opponents, and its ability to 'cloak' the user, as Ryouga had called

it, was very useful, but ultimately it was designed as a counter to

the Yamisenken, which Genma Saotome alone remembered how to practice.

The Amaguriken was a good general-purpose move, but not all powerful

by itself.



The sound of a foot splashing through a shallow puddle drew Nabiki's

attention back to the here and now. Her eyes well adjusted to the

darkness, she could make out someone's outline, and even crouched, it

was too small to be Ryouga, Ranma or Taro, which left Shampoo or

Akane. In the gloom, she could make out the long hair, see Shampoo

look up, and finally see her from around a large rock that had

probably been hiding her from view since the other girl had entered

the cave.



"Ah. Shampoo find you," she stepped forward, confidently now.



"Grmf!" Nabiki suddenly realized she sounded more like a certain sign-

wielding panda than herself. Her attempt to warn Shampoo of the trap

she was about to trip failed miserably, as the Chinese girl's ankle

broke the wire, and a heartbeat later soaked her with several gallons

of freezing cold water.



"Merow!" Shampoo complained, in her apparent direction, shrugging out

of her now useless clothes.



"Grmf!"



"Mrew!"



"Gmmfr!"



"Che," Taro easily snuck up behind the angry feline, and lifted her up

by the scruff of the neck, "All too easy."



"Mowr! Mowr!" Shampoo-neko scratched wildly, but couldn't get her

claws anywhere near close enough to touch the arrogant young man. Taro

spared her a quick glance, and his smile faded into a quick frown.

With a hard flick of his middle finger, he struck her between the

eyes, and knocked the small animal out cold.



"Stupid Joketsuzoku bitch," Taro sneered, and suddenly realized he'd

said that in Mandarin. He quickly looked over to see if his hostage

had understood what he'd said, and then decided he didn't really care.

She was too in the dark to understand everything anyway, no matter how

smart she thought she was. Tucking the now unconscious Shampoo-neko

under his arm, he reached down, and undid the knot keeping Nabiki tied

down.



"Come on," he pulled her up, and started towards the cave entrance,

"I've got a queer bastard to skin, and you get to watch."



She grumbled something in reply that sounded awfully like an

unladylike curse, and it almost made Taro smile. This girl was a lot

wittier and verbally abusive than the other one, who mostly sulked and

looked about to lash out at him. Of course, once he was finished with

the cross dresser, and had hunted down and taken care of his animal

friends, he'd lure out and bargain their ...remaining lives for a

change of name from that perverted old man. Given that he'd jumped to

the girls' defense earlier, and that he'd pulled back when they were

in danger, it was virtually certain that he'd capitulate and comply

with Taro's demands.



And if not, he wagered that the old bastard's mind would change when

he started mailing bit and pieces back to their weeping old man. After

his official business here was completed, AND his name was changed,

he'd be back off to China. He was already running a little late, and

potentially angering several parties whose attention he had. Taro

hated them all, pretty much, but some more than others. ...Some much

more than others.



"Up we go," he jumped, keeping a tight hold of his charge as they

moved from rock to rock on their way to the top. The girl didn't seem

to like being dragged around, but taro really didn't care less. He

wasn't a bad guy, he always figured, just a guy dealt a bad hand and

doing what needed to be done to get ahead. In a dog eat dog world, you

don't worry about what you're eating, or who you're beating to the

punch.



At the top, near the temple, he tied Nabiki up to one of the supports

near an old well. He toyed with the idea of tossing the annoying

Amazon girl into the sea, but decided against it. She'd be another

valuable hostage when the time came. Only the two men were really

disposable at the moment. Scratching his chin, he picked up a sturdy

wooden pole, and walked over to the edge of the battlefield, giving

the whole place a once over, and making sure everything was ready and

in place.



He didn't have long to wait.



"What's this? A faggot in my very own front yard? I thought those

people came by and sprayed just the other day," Taro hopped down a

bit, one foot's heel grinding into Ranma's hand as he neared the top

of his climb even as he gave him a falsely warm smile, "Still... I'm

impressed that you can this far without getting wet. Out of respect, I

won't dumb water on you, femboy. How's about that?"



"You sure that's smart?" Ranma smirked, ignoring the pain in his

hand, "You may regret not turning me into a girl, Pantyhose Prince."



That last insult seemed to cut especially deep, and Taro's smile

disappeared instantly. With one end of the wooden pole he held, the

Chinese youth dug it into the other boy's right shoulder, grinding it

mercilessly until the wood snapped in half. A trickle of blood gave

proof that it had broken the skin under Ranma's silk shirt.



"That was for our last encounter," Taro's voice was cold, but he

was obviously back in control of his emotions as he threw the remains

of the pole aside and stepped back a few feet, "Come on up, cross

dresser. I want to take you apart myself."



Ranma quickly climbed up the last few feet, and followed his

opponent to an open area. It was dark, but he could see Nabiki and

Shampoo, the latter in her cat form, tied up to several posts near an

old stone well. Akane was still below, making her way up. She had

insisted on coming, but in the actual climbing had lagged behind. He'd

hoped for as much; it wouldn't do for her to get in the way when the

actual fighting started.



"So I guess were even then, huh?" Ranma slid his left foot back,

and got into a low crouch, "Good. That means I won't have to pull my

punches as much then."



Taro simply took the pantyhose wrapped around his right arm and

threw it to the ground, revealing an unwounded arm largely healed from

before. Even with his eyes closed, he'd be able to lead this arrogant

fool into half the geyser traps the other boy didn't even know had

been scouted out. He'd still soak this Ranma Saotome, and then deal

with him at his leisure. Slowly, Taro got into a lazy stance Ranma

didn't recognize, one leg forward.



"Alright, you Pantyhose Pirate!" Ranma let out some of his cold

battle aura, felt it energize him, and accelerated forward, nearly a

blur. He opened up with a barrage of blows, mixing closed fists with

open palms, searching a weakness. Amazingly, Taro blurred backwards,

despite not manifesting any battle aura at all, his forearm bracers

and hands blocking all the attacks.



Taro recognized it as the unspoken version of the Kachuu Tenshi

Amaguriken - a filthy Joketsuzuko technique stolen from the Seven

Lucky Gods School, which he was also familiar with. Still, this was

the fastest he'd ever seen it performed. Content to observe for the

moment, Taro kept up his alternating passive /active defense, noting

that the blows behind the individual strikes were much less than he

remembered this same boy's regular strikes being. It seemed that this

Ranma fellow was either new to the technique (not likely, given the

speed he used it at), holding back dramatically (also not likely given

the wild nature of the technique itself), or more used to

concentrating his blows at a single point rather than trying to use

them to overwhelm an opponent.



"Come on, you underwear addict! Fight back, why don't ya?"



No doubt the latter, due to the nature of his friend: the boy with

the bandanna and rock hard constitution. Backing up further, and

relying on his memory of the battlefield, Taro drew his opponent into

a trap, even as he observed his abilities. Finally, sensing that the

moment was right, he waited, leaving an opportunity for the other

fighter to take.



"I'm gonna end this right now!!"



A foolish lunge, and a quick scoot to the left, and Ranma found

his fist buried in a wall, and a second later, himself doused by

water. Before he could even bat an eye, he was a she, and she was in

trouble. Taro chuckled softly, "Did I forget to mention that behind

nearly every stone here is a wall of water about to burst through? You

should be more careful femboy."



"Do you know what that was... that was just plain cheap!" Ranma-

chan turned, and attacked, but her charge was cut immediately short as

a kick to the nerve clusters in the neck stunned her for a moment. It

would have easily snapped the neck of a normal man, or paralyzed even

a very tough individual, but Ranma-chan's ki protected her, and she

recovered before her feet touched the ground.



"Cross dressing freak," Taro lowered his leg, his voice dripping

contempt; "I don't show mercy to real women. How do you think I deal

with fags like you?"



Taro moved with remarkable speed, his right hand firing in pistol

like blows before the last word had even left his mouth. Ranma-chan

kept moving, to the left, right, back, erratically avoiding the blows.

Taro was fighting as a speed that almost rivaled Ryouga's at full

tilt, but Ranma-chan knew she was an order of magnitude faster still.

The problem now was doing damage. Her standard tactic, a refined and

focused version of the Kachuu Tenshi Amaguriken, worked well against

the lost boy, though she knew all too well that in girl form even that

wouldn't do much but annoy the Hibiki fighter.



But against Taro...  he couldn't possibly be tough enough to take

it. What she needed was an opportunity - an opening to set up and

deliver the steady stream of blows. The Pantyhose boy seemed to almost

be expecting it by keeping a hand in constant position to block and

counter, and simply wasn't giving her the chance to get a good set of

shots in. Worse, he wasn't generating a battle aura of any

significance, which meant the Hiryu Shoten Ha was out of question. A

different approach was in order.



"I'm going to make you eat those words!" Ranma-chan jumped and

flipped, up and over her opponent, locked her ankles around his neck

and upper torso, and used her momentum to bring him to the ground, the

back of Taro's head taking the brunt of the impact as he hit the hard

ground. Nabiki watched, and winced as the ground exploded in a geyser

of water, obscuring the two. Expecting to see Taro's cursed form blast

out, she instead saw Ranma shielding him with her body, as the

eruption of water dwindled to a trickle.



"Thanks a bunch, cross dresser," Taro scrunched up a bit, locked

his legs around Ranma-chan's chest, and slammed her face first into

the ground nearby. As another geyser of water blew up and into Ranma-

chan's face, Taro got to his feet, and brushed his hands together

almost playfully as he walked towards the water fountain, "Now... time

for *me* to change."



"I don't think so!" Ranma-chan's voice had a panicked edge to it,

as she leapt into a hasty jump kick, that Taro easily avoided.



"Ha!" Taro gave a curt laugh as he struck out, nailing Ranma-chan

across the jaw and sending her flying back, "I was only kidding, cross

dresser! Don't soil yourself."



Ranma rolled back, and got to her feet quickly. Taro snapped his

fingers, and stomped, once, cracking the ground under his left foot.

Ranma was forced to attack again, as water splashed out, threatening

to turn the Chinese youth into his cursed form.



"Hey!" Ranma-chan was cut off, as soon as she came through the

upwards-bound water, by another of Taro's blows, delivered in a casual

manner. Ranma wiped a bit of blood from her lower lip, frustration and

anger written on her features. She was losing her cool, and everyone

knew it except her.



"Will you stop that?!"



"Why?" Taro gave a quick laugh, "This is so much fun... Come on,

aren't you having fun, you queer bastard?"



"Why... you!!" Ranma-chan's cool aura faded, replaced by red hot

anger, "Nobody... nobody calls me that and gets away with it!"



***



"Why? Why so many people come to Jyusekyou?"



The Guide looked down at Mousse's body, and wiped his brow.

Carrying the Chinese youth all the way to the edge of western

Jyusenkyou, a side of the springs that, thankfully, most avoided,

hadn't been easy, but it hadn't been too hard either. No, it was a hot

day. Or maybe he was just nervous. He knew, of course, that the boy

had been coming, but not that he'd arrive so soon.



Reaching behind him, the Guide's hand found the reassuring grip of

his nine-millimeter Colt. He had been a soldier, once, a long time

ago, but the sad fact was that his adopted daughter, Plum, probably

knew twice as much martial arts as he did, simply because she hung

around with other girls her age in the Joketsuzuko village. Gods to

the left of him, super powered warriors to the right... where did that

leave him? In the middle, really, which was where he needed to be.



He thought, very briefly, about putting a bullet between Mousse's

eyes.



The boy had seen Herb, and would almost certainly not be content

to leave things as they were, which was already bad enough. The Guide

had carefully picked out the monkey for Herb to throw in the spring of

drowned girl. The Prince hadn't, as he knew, thought anything of the

poor creature's kicking and screeching, and wouldn't have until it was

too late, and he ended up with a curse.



And a weakness.



That had been the plan.



"So many tragedies," The Guide shook his head, but his hand

ultimately left his weapon tucked away in his belt, out of sight.

Walking away, the Jyusenkyou Guide sighed, wearily. Old age was

obviously catching up on him.



Then again, he really hadn't wanted that plan to succeed anyway.



***



"Come on, cross dresser! Come on, you sick fag! Is that all you got?!

Huh?!" Taro twisted, blocked the roundhouse with one of his forearm

bracers, and jabbed. Ranma-chan was obviously hurt, he could tell

despite the way she hid it by switching postures and stances, but she

was still flexible and fast enough to avoid, and catch the blow in he

left hand. Taro smirked, and pulled back and up, snapping his fist out

of her small hand and straight into her face. Momentarily caught off

balance, he didn't hesitate to take advantage of it with a flurry of

tiger strikes to the face and shoulders.



Ranma, even in his cursed girl form, was still a formidable opponent.

Taro knew, and had known from the beginning, that fighting a male

Ranma Saotome, with neither holding back, would be a bloody and

Pyrrhic victory at best. It was an amazing revelation, that there

could be people his age, with his level of speed, strength and skill,

especially considering all the special training Taro underwent before

he came to Japan, just in case he found the freak responsible for his

true curse, and needed to beat the life out of him to make him change

it. Regardless, it had been essential to weaken the other boy, and

though Ranma's cursed form was still human, and still allowed him to

fight, at least it greatly decreased his strength. The added speed, he

could deal with. The weakened blows were like a godsend.



Suddenly, Ranma-chan kicked out and back, a spray of dust kicked up by

her left foot as it skidded across the ground. The blow had hit Taro

soundly in the chest, but had been easily absorbed by his dragonscale

armor, as had the many he'd taken to the forearms. His clothes were a

miracle in and of themselves - they were fashionable, and went well

with a pantyhose sash that Taro kept around as both a weapon of last

resort, and a reminder of his vow to change his name, they also

reformed when he transformed, a necessity to keep from ending up naked

half the time, and they provided superb protection from impact blows

and even cutting attempts.



Taro gritted his teeth, and pressed the attack once more. Cutting his

dash forward short, he lowered his head and twisted, letting his

momentum carry his feet forward. Ranma-chan avoided the low attack,

but was unprepared for him spinning in midair, and pummeling her with

his fists. She had been stunned, for only the second time in their

fight. Feet touching ground, Taro moved in, and jammed both his hands

into her lower ribcage, and hooked his fingers up. He'd been aiming to

snap two or three ribs, but Ranma-chan's erratic squirming, and his

odd position, had thrown him off. Not to be deterred, or too

disappointed, Taro brought his right palm up and into her jaw.



He was tempted to toy around with her, but decided to simply end

things.



Ranma-chan screamed, blood flowing from her mouth, and stumbled back.

Instinctively, her hands came up to block a snap kick to her neck, and

she crouched to defend against another to the solar plexus, only to

have a third, performed in nearly as many heartbeats, connect with her

temple, right above her left eye. Nearly blinded, and now seeing

stars, she rolled back, and jumped... high.



"Do you really think that's going to save you from me?" Taro laughed,

and pivoted, watching impassively as Ranma-chan reached the apex of

her leap, "Maybe I should..."



And disappeared.



"...What?" Taro blinked a few times. He still couldn't see her, "What

the hell?"



Did the cross dresser just do what he thought he had seen? Had he just

vanished, out of the blue? No... it had to be a technique of some

sort. Taro quickly checked his mental inventory of techniques, both

those that he himself could do, those he had seen done, and those he

had heard of, and came up with a few possibilities. There were three

different types of invisibility/teleportation ki techniques, two that

shunted the user into another plane, smaller and more compact than our

own (according to a theory he'd heard). Those two were Japanese

techniques, restricted to an unknown school, and several hundred heard

old, supposedly lost over time. The other was a Polynesian-Chinese

technique that clouded the mind. The Saotome boy had known, at the

very least, the Amaguriken technique, was it possible he'd picked this

up as well, from some unknown source?



Twenty feet away, the ground cracked, and a geyser if water erupted.

In it, Taro's keen eyes saw the highlight of ...something humanoid.

Taro's eyes narrowed, but he still couldn't make out the form of the

person clearly, but his brain was still working. Obviously, this

wasn't any form of mind clouding, or else the fountain of water would

still have concealed the user. No, this technique was actually bending

light around its practitioner. A powerful technique indeed, but it

must have weaknesses. Closing his eyes, Taro concentrated, and inhaled

deeply.



Opening his eyes, he could just barely see it. The human mind, under

equipped as it was to deal with senses beyond its normal operating

parameters, saw things in a limited fashion. Taro had been tapping

into hints of his cursed form's powers for years, virtually his whole

life. He'd conditioned both his mind, and his body, to it. He could

see, on the periphery, the tiny wafting flavor of scent around him.

Hints from the girl, and even the cat, nearby. A million other minute

distractions, tuned out. And, finally...



"I have you!"



Taro felt his hand find purchase, and in a flicker of air and light,

Ranma-chan reappeared, her head snapped back from Taro's risky

haymaker. They'd been fighting for almost twenty minutes, and Ranma

was defiantly getting the worst of the confrontation. Catching the

other boy's wrist, Taro snapped him in and intercepted Ranma with an

elbow to the throat. Ranma-chan gasped for air, and Taro clasped both

hands around her neck, choking the life out of her.



"Time... to die, cross dresser," Taro's mouth became a crooked sneer,

devoid of mercy, "You shouldn't have f..."



He never got to finish his sentence.



"Leave... him... ALONE!!"



Akane swung, her voice nearly breaking, her muscles straining from

anger and effort, as the face of her mallet met Taro's with all the

finesse and grace of a baseball bat cracking open some poor sucker's

knees. The Chinese boy fought against the urge to pass out, and

regained his equilibrium in midair, shifting his weight so that his

feet touched the ground, and even then, digging long furrows before he

came to a stop. Looking up, his eyes slightly hazy, he saw that girl,

with the short blue hair, holding Ranma-chan in one arm, and the

cracked and splintered end of something wooden in the other.



Then, blood clouded his right eye, and he reached up. His hand came

back sticky and bloodied, and as his fingers brushed past them, he

could feel the splinters digging into his skin and scraping damn near

against bone. A long bloody gash had been opened along the side of his

face, from just above the right eyebrow down to just below the ear. A

roar of pain and rage tore from his throat, and he moved like the wind

blew. Before Akane could even think about mounting some kind of

defense, Taro's fist was buried nearly up to the wrist in her midriff.



"Akane!!"



It was almost in stereo, but Taro didn't care who had said it. He'd

kill this bitch for doing that to him. He'd kill all of them, and then

come back for the old man while he slept, or mourned... it didn't

matter. Only payment mattered now. Revenge! Stepping back, Akane

reeled, but still tried to raise her hands in defense. In her eyes, he

saw that she knew how outmatched she was - that she had no chance, no

chance at all, of fighting him on anything resembling even footing.

For a moment, a very brief moment, Taro actually cared.



"Bitch!" he backhanded her, and she caught sky before landing,

roughly, on her side, some ten feet away. He thought about following

up, but barely had time to block, as Ranma-chan exploded into a

furious creature of blows and nails and hate filled eyes. The assault

was overwhelming in its intensity, and its animalistic fervor.

Searching for an escape, and a respite from the fingers tearing at his

defenses to get at his eyes, Taro found himself hammered with an

explosion up close. He felt his skin blister from the heat, even as

the smell of burnt flesh and saltpeter mingled in his nostrils. He

slammed almost immediately into rock, which quickly gave way to water.

Blessed cool water, that brought both relief, and...



Pain, first. The pain of his limbs stretching, threatening to tear out

of their sockets, shot through his body and danced along his nerves.

It came and went in but a moment, replaced by a surge of heat and

electricity, flowing from the horned that were starting to erupt from

his head, all the way to his feet, where his toes were fusing into

hooves. For a second, his body was not his own, even after all these

years, and all these transformations, and then he was looking down at

the insects that would do him harm. The tiny redheaded girl-thing

jumped at him, her eyes alight with savage fury, but Taro swatted her

down as one would a fly.



Then the ground exploded, and Taro instinctively jumped up, his wings

starting to move, catching hold of invisible updrafts. He could feel

the heat of this waterspout, and at its heart, a flaming figure,

trailing heat of his own. A tiny fist, tiny but packing power enough

to level a building, slipped past the astonished monster's hands, and

collided with Taro's lower jaw in a flying uppercut. Taro felt himself

go end over end, but his wings spread, and he flipped around in time

to block a hailstorm of bandannas, thrown from the apex of Ryouga's

jump.



They were as pinpricks to a giant, and Taro-monster shrugged them off.

Bringing both hands back, and lunging forward, Taro followed the lost

boy's uncontrolled descent, and intercepted him with both palms in a

resounding thunderclap, crushing the Hibiki boy like the offending bug

he was. Diving, his cargo still in his massive grip, Taro opened his

cupped hands at the last second, driving them, and the man trapped in

them, into the ground. Lifting his hands, and feeling the cold water

pouring up from the blasted impact site, he saw only a little black

dot. Raising a titanic hoof, Taro readied to crush the little

creature.



Only to have it snatched away at the last second by a purple and pink

blur.



"The Amazon bitch?" Taro thought, watching her race around, and throw

the little black piglet into the earlier created hot water spurt. He

looked, momentarily at his other hostage, the brown haired loudmouthed

girl, who had been tied up by the old well. Sure enough, she was still

tied up, but now standing... and she was wet. And it seemed as if her

sister had managed to drag herself over to her as well. Suddenly it

made sense. The damn Amazon, in her cat form, probably chewed through

the single length of pantyhose keeping Nabiki tied down. The other

girl had then ran over to the hot water spout, taking the cat with

her, and gotten her loose, and now she was standing there, hoping he

hadn't noticed, with the other girl.



Damn it.



Roaring again, he turned on the now three martial artists, two male

and one female, and none in their cursed forms. Idiots. Didn't they

know that an animal was at its most dangerous when cornered? Wings

flexed, Taro rose higher into the air, pulled up, and got additional

altitude. Going into a quick barrel roll, and flipping into a

controlled dive, Taro bent both his legs and readied for the

collision. He was headed right for the old well, and if anything would

move the two more dangerous martial artists, it would be their

girlfriends about to be smashed into red paste.



Sure enough, he saw them move, which left the Amazon alone and the two

boys' hands full. Landing almost lightly, but still with a thunderous

crash, Taro crouched and whipped around. To his annoyance, the Amazon

was quick on her feet, and avoided him as he struck at her with both

fists, sending jets of cold water up and out of the ground with every

missed blow. Still, they were divided, and he was ready for them - a

far more preferable situation than it had been before.



Straightening out, as Ranma and Ryouga charged in, blows raining down

on the monster's torso, Taro twisted his upper body slightly, and

brought an elbow down, catching the slightly slower, but far stronger,

one of the two in the back of the head. Ryouga flew down, and crashed

into the ground on all fours, cushioning the damage and blowing a

small crater out under him, but preventing a rush of water from

blasting out at him from below. Ignoring Ranma for the moment, he

slammed down with one fist, then the other, pulverizing the prone lost

boy, before rolling on his back to keep the pigtailed martial artist

from blindsiding him.



Shaking his coat of fur like a dog, Taro saw Shampoo and Ranma come in

low for a flying kick. Ranma was injured fairly badly, and Shampoo was

keeping pace with him. Stepping back at the last second, as they

leapt, Taro's hands shot out like cobras, snatching each in midair.

Leaning forward, his weight on his right leg, Taro then slammed both

into the ground, kicking up two explosions of rock and freezing cold

water. Then, without warning, pain shot up from his tail.



Looking over his massive shoulder, Taro saw Ryouga holding onto his

eel-tail, part of it wrapped around the lost boy's straining right

arm. With a howl of effort, and a mighty heave to the side, Ryouga

pulled the Taro-monster off its feet and into the air. Cursing to

himself, and starting to feel a twinge of true panic, the Chinese

martial artist concentrated, and instantly his tail lit up with power,

as thousands of volts blasted down Taro's spine, into his eel-tail,

and through the soaking wet Hibiki boy on its way to the ground.



Muscles threatening to tear, nerves on fire, heart beating

erratically, and tendons on the verge of snapping like rubber bands,

Ryouga pulled back, and spun Taro by his tail over his head one last

time, before bringing his arms down, and slamming Taro's bulk into the

ground. The tortured earth groaned and cracked in protest, before

giving out completely. The entire area, broken and riddled with holes,

and already porous with underground waterways, had taken enough

damage. Huge cracks, wide enough to swallow a man, snaked out from the

impact site.



"Aaa!" Ryouga winced, and let go of the eel-tail. Steam rose from his

form, and every muscle in his body began to fade from fatigue and

built up damage. He saw, despite his unclear vision, the brown furred

body of Taro slip into the gaping hole ahead of him. His ears hurt,

but mixed with an angry, desperate, howl, he heard the roar of the

ground below, deep below, straining and cracking. It was a sound he

had caused enough in his own time; it was like an old friend.



Or an old foe.



It seemed difficult to tell the difference recently.



He felt like sagging down to his knees and passing out, but raw

stubbornness kept him standing. Shaking his head violently, Ryouga

looked to his side and saw Ranma and Shampoo, in her cat form,

unconscious. Running over on weak legs, he picked Shampoo up in one

hand, and Ranma-chan in the other. Shaking the latter, he was rewarded

with Ranma-chan's eyes opening, frantically. Their eyes caught each

other, and Ryouga let her stand on her own.



"Nabiki," he said.



"Akane," Ranma replied, and turned around, looking for the remains of

the old well. To their left, another section of the temple outcropping

crumbled and fell in on itself. Ranma's vision seemed to better than

his rival's.



"I see them!" he yelled, and ran over. Ryouga simply followed. After

the cascade of water had hit him, he'd been washed away, unable to

fight the current in his piglet body. He'd ended up near their

original campsite, and had, by pure luck, found a hot spring he and

Shampoo had passed while tracking for Ranma. His clothes had been

washed in with him, so he had gotten dressed and headed out, half

expecting not to find the place for a day or more. It hadn't taken

that long, thank goodness, but he'd still been late. He was always

late!



Ryouga stopped, and gasped when he saw Akane. She had a trickle of

blood on her lower lip, and a nasty welt growing on her cheek. He'd

hit her! The bastard had actually hit her! A flash of anger came, and

lingered, only to be overpowered by fear. Hastily he turned to Nabiki,

keeping Shampoo tucked under his arm carefully. Removing her gag, he

saw tears down her face. Emotion welled up, stronger than anything

he'd ever felt, and he pulled her to his chest, feeling her erratic

breathing against his body. She hadn't been hurt. A single blow from

that bastard could easily have...



He didn't even think about it further.



Picking her up, he nodded to Ranma-chan, who held Akane like one would

the most precious and fragile fine china. Together, they leapt up and

onto the Temple roof, and then over the massive fissure that had

swallowed up Taro's monstrous form. The ground beneath them was like

cardboard, and instantly buckled, but the two martial artists were

already airborne. Jumping from rock to rock, amid the rubble and

crumpling boulders, around and past erupting water traps, they didn't

even see the Temple of the Watery Grave give one last groan, before

collapsing completely into a titanic landslide.



They never even looked back.



***



Ukyou woke up with a headache powerful enough to keep a Thai Kick

boxer in bed. Shaking her head slightly, she amended that. There was

disorientation, and the headache was receding rapidly, but it was

still there, in the back of her head. Blinking a few times, and

rubbing her closed eyes thoroughly with the palms of her hands, she

reached up, expecting her cotton bow, but felt only hair. Something

was wrong.



Her senses cleared up almost instantly, then. Her eyes opened, and she

realized where she was. Or where she wasn't - this wasn't Jyusenkyou.

She was in a room, broad, rectangular, with high ceilings. A lavish

wooden dresser with two tall glass mirrors sat nearby, while the far

end of the room sported another ornate door, with a great many carved

inlays. There was also a desk, with books and what looked like scrolls

on it, flanked by two potted ferns that clung to a latticework of

white wood. The room itself was gently lit from above, where she could

see two rows of lights, maybe halogen or phosphorescent, set into the

stone ceiling, with small wires, somewhat difficult to see, running to

the large door that dominated the place.



It was almost a relief, to see that little bit of technology, after

being in rural and outback China for so long. Quickly, she checked her

clothes, and sighed with relief to see that she was still in them.

Looking for her weapons, she saw her megaspatula lying against the

wall, next to the soft bed she had been sleeping on, and her bandolier

draped across its larger comrade in arms. Quickly, Ukyou slid out of

and off the bed. Strapping the bandolier on, and feeling the

reassuring grip of her megaspatula in her hands, she approached the

room's large wooden door. Her first thought was to smash it down with

the blunt end of her spatula, but then, on a lark, she decided to at

least try opening it.



It swung open without resistance.



The corridor was long, but also softly lit, and made of cleanly carved

and well-maintained stonework. Running her hand experimentally along

it, she saw that some of the blocks were truly huge, both in size and

obviously in weight. Additionally, there wasn't any sign of masonry or

plaster between the stones, rather they fit together like toy blocks,

carved with careful precision and fitting together superbly. The

ceiling was slightly higher than her rooms, she figured, and probably

around ten to twelve feet high. The craftsmanship was impressive, and

like nothing she'd ever seen before.



Looking down the two ends of the hall, Ukyou arbitrarily took a left.

Sighing, she realized that she wouldn't have much room to swing, even

though the hall was quite wide, and without that berth, her

megaspatula wouldn't help that much in a fight. Annoyed, she locked it

into the holster on her back, and kept going. She came, first, to

another large wooden door on her right. Set in what looked like inlaid

gold were three characters she didn't recognize. The door was

unlocked, she noted, and cautiously opened it.



She saw a large room, longer than hers, but without any extra doors,

except an open closet, and a large set of screens on a nearby wall.

The closet caught her eye, and making sure no one was inside, she

walked over, noting the large bed, and large mirror on the far side of

the room, accompanied by what looked like a fur rug on the smooth

stone floor. In the closet, Ukyou saw a true juxtaposition - hanging

side by side were what looked like leather and metal armor, maybe

three suits, and at least three times that number dresses of assorted

varieties, all seemingly custom made. Granted, Ukyou knew she'd never

been particularly girly, but she had an idea of what it meant to be a

woman, and though she had never put down money for one, she had toyed

with the idea of wearing actual dresses. She even had a few skirts,

herself, though she never quite got up the courage to wear them in

public.



"Wow," she quickly stepped back, away from the closet, and opened the

screens nearby. They pulled back, revealing a large collection of

knives, some hung carefully, and others slightly imbedded in a long

piece of soft wood. Most were not ornate, and as she leaned in,

recognized them as combat knives - the kind weighted for balance, but

otherwise not especially unusual. Ukyou herself ordered her mini-

spatulas from a custom dealer she had contacts with through her

father.



She backed up, and into something. Spinning, a min-spatula in her

hand, Ukyou felt her wrist caught in someone's hand, as her own

momentum was used to flip her over. She landed on her back with a soft

thump, and looked up at her captor - a woman. Not even Asian, she

looked American... or at least European. She also didn't seem to be

attacking. Rolling to the side, Ukyou got back to her feet. The woman

pointed to her mini-spatula and said something in English. It was,

however, too quick for Ukyou to follow. Remembering her lessons at

Furinkan, and even before that, Ukyou thought for a second, and

decided to try and communicate.



"Hello," she said, experimentally.



"Hello," the other woman said, more slowly this time.



"Do you speak Japanese?" Ukyou tried. It was one of the many phrases

they had students memorize. The other woman shook her head and said

something in rough Chinese. Ukyou put her hands up, and put away her

mini-spatula back into her bandolier.



"My name is Kuonji Ukyou. I am from Japan. What is your name?"



"Elizabeth. Elizabeth Lufberry. From England," she leaned in closer to

the younger girl, "You must be new here."



"I... I am," Ukyou stopped when she heard footsteps. Turning, she saw

a man, an old man, but not shriveled like Happosai. He was tall,

though not particularly lean, and his hair was cut so close to his

head that Ukyou wouldn't have been able to tell whether he was bald of

not except by the fact that his hair was a creamy white, while the

rest of his head was like a brown paper bag that had been crumpled,

smoothed, crumpled again and stretched tight over a skull. He looked

leathery and tough. Then she saw his eyes glint in the light.



They were yellowish gold.



He said something quick to the older English woman, then faced Ukyou

and spoke in slightly accented Japanese, "I see you are awake, Miss.

Please, if you would follow me?"



"Who are you?" she gripped her spatula tightly, desperately, "Where am

I?"



"I am Borage. And this is Xanadu - the Palace of the Dragon Lord."



"Dragon Lord?"



"The young Prince Herb."



"Herb?" Ukyou thought back. Mousse had called him that - the guy that

attacked them at Jyusenkyou, "You mean the jackass that kidnapped

me?"'



Borage blinked, and considered that, "He sent me to fetch you from

your slumber. To meet his highness in the Courtyard."



Courtyard?



An open area would be far easier to escape from, Ukyou figured.

Besides, it was defiantly best to figure out what was going on before

doing anything drastic. And she owed that Prince Herb fellow for

blasting poor Mousse and knocking her out. As the two made to leave,

Ukyou heard a soft "Bye" from behind. She followed the old man down

the hall, past several other closed doors, one of which was slightly

ajar, and into an even larger hall that branched out two other ways.



"These lights," Ukyou spoke up, "Is there a city nearby you're getting

the power from?"



"We Musk are not a primitive people like the Joketsuzoku or the

Phoenix," Borage's pace slowed somewhat, "We have electrical

generators to provide power where it is necessary."



"And the lights themselves?" Ukyou pressed. If there was a city or

town nearby...



"Our contacts with the outside bring them in, along with other things

occasionally desired. You should consider your position here before

making any plans for escape, however," Borage didn't seem concerned

with the prospect, "The nearest... people are the half human Phoenix

savages. Their hospitality would be as warm as a snake's in its den. I

can attest to that personally."



"The Musk... Mousse mentioned you guys."



"Oh?"



"He didn't paint a favorable picture."



"This Mu Tzu sounds Joketsuzuko. They have a unique relationship with

us... The dislike is mutual, I assure you."



"And me?" Ukyou paused, as they walked past another woman, obviously

pregnant, who was walking in the opposite direction, "I'm not an

Amazon."



"Obviously," he snorted, "However, it is not my place to ...presume.

At least not at the moment."



"Presume what?" Ukyou questioned, but Borage remained silent. Finally

they came to an archway, supported by pillars, which opened out over a

small valley area, flanked on all sides by great tall monolithic

pillars, and high cliffs. Below, amid the trees, floated the sounds of

battle. Walking down a long set of marble steps, and under a large

Triumph like archway, the two came to a slightly sunken area, with a

large square marble arena, the four sides decorated by large obelisks

that reached up nearly twenty feet. At center stage, two warriors were

locked in a play of swords on Pudao-like polearm, dancing and clashing

with grace and speed. On a throne overlooking the area sat the same

royal brat Ukyou recognized from before, in slightly more ornate

clothes, two others to his left and right, a young looking kid, maybe

fifteen or sixteen, and another guy, with large striped shoulder pads

and leg bindings, who was undoubtedly several years older.



In the arena, the two men fighting seemed to sense that their liege's

attention would soon turn to other matters. Their moves intensified,

with the polearm armed man, a large fellow, his head shaved bald

except for a long plume of stark blue hair in the back, and wearing

only baggy white pants, pressing the attack with a series of

flamboyant and none-too-practical moves. Ukyou couldn't help but

admire his controlled ability with the heavy weapon, and the speed he

wielded it with. His opponent wasn't unimpressive either, deftly

deflecting and docking every one of the showy, but deadly, attacks.



"Sumac," Borage said, as if reading Ukyou's mind, "He is fighting

Balm, a fine warrior in his own right. The man on the throne is Herb,

and those are his two personal guards, Mint and Lime."



Ukyou got a closer look at the two warriors standing at the dragon

Prince's side. The young one seemed especially interested in the

fight. There was a light to his eyes. Awe? She also noted his hair,

and the sword strapped behind his back.



"Sumac is Mint's brother," Borage spoke what Ukyou had suspected.



The match below would have undoubtedly have lasted longer if the Sumac

had not gotten impatient. Martial arts displays for Prince Herb, or

any audience, were fine, but once he ran through his repertoire of

pirouette attacks and sweeping poses, it was almost as if there was

little additional reason to continue. He'd demonstrated his style, his

grace, and his keen technique, he'd given the audience a cheap thrill

by nearly getting struck once or twice, and he was ready for a snack.

It was time to end things.



With a flourish and a flash of speed he hadn't been using before,

Sumac spun, hooked out the other man's legs, and disarmed him of his

two Dao sabers. Before he had even hit the ground. Sumac's polearm

spun, seemingly wildly, around his right arm, before coming to rest at

his side, the tip of the bladed end nearly touching the ground. He

bowed; his right arm tucked in, to the throne, "My Liege."



Herb's eyes moved from the prone fighter, to where Ukyou stood, next

to Borage, and spoke in clear Japanese, "You defeated your opponent.

Finish him."



"Finish him?" Sumac replied in the same tongue, and seemed to think

about it for a second longer than he should have, before turning to

his fellow Musk, "If you ...insist, my Lord."



"Wait..." the prone Balm gulped, and scrambled back a few feet, "Wait,

Sumac... Lord Herb...!"



"This isn't right," Ukyou said, cutting off what the old man next to

her was going to say. Gaping in open astonishment and horror, Ukyou

simply moved without thinking, and found herself in the arena, feet

firmly planted on either side of the bested warrior's body, her battle

aura just starting to fully manifest. She didn't know him, didn't know

any of them, didn't even know these people's customs or really where

she was, but cold blooded murder... execution, was just wrong, no

matter who you were, or who was calling the shots. Maybe once, she

could have stood there and not interfered, but not now. She was a

different person - a better person! Her charging energy suffused her

body as she drew her megaspatula and started to be manifested as a

visible blue and red aura.



"Who the hell are you?"



"Jumping to the defense of a beaten man?" Herb stood, and Sumac

turned. He bowed again, his weapon to the side, "Very noble ...as I

had hoped. Sumac, Balm, you may leave."



Sumac stood and stalked off, Balm close behind, lingering only to

retrieve his fallen weapons. Herb approached her, arms wide, Mint and

Lime trailing behind and staring at Ukyou intently.



"Come now, speak, woman," Herb stood before her in all his glory, "Let

me hear your voice."



She decked him, suddenly, and caught unprepared; Herb fell

unceremoniously to the ground, his jaw sore. Ukyou shook the pain out

of her right hand.



 "If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a jackass in a cape."



***



The air was brittle with cold and Plun Gu was glad they'd all brought

jackets. Rich scents of earth, hay and the memory of smoke surrounded

them, and she felt tall grass brushing against her pants. It was

resoundingly silent, this high up and this far away. Too far away,

really, in case something went wrong. The Elders always associated

these mountains with tragedy and strife.



"I still don't get why we have to see it ourselves," she made her

concerns known, and not for the first time.



"Aren't you the least bit curious what Jyusenkyou looks like?"



"A little... that's why I'm here, Tso."



"Buy you don't have to see a cobra to know it's dangerous," another

Amazon, Mir Ru, a tough looking woman with close-cropped hair, spoke

up. Tso considered this - it seemed that Plun was not along in her

fear of the place, and her reluctance to make the trek to see it.



"And there could be Musk around," Mir added.



"Let them come," Tso put up a strong front, and casually flicked her

long teal hair behind her, "Three Joketsuzoku warriors... nothing

short of the Dragon himself would dare try and take us on. I almost

hope we run into one."



Plun and Mir didn't seem as enthusiastic, but it bolstered their

pride, and their courage. They continued at a slightly faster pace

down the old winding dirt trail, and started down into the Jyusenkyou

Valley. They were taking a slightly oblique path into Jyusenkyou, to

avoid running into the Guide or anyone else who would record or alert

the Elders that the three Amazons had made the secret pilgrimage to

the place.



Jyusenkyou was off limits to all Joketsuzoku unless accompanied by an

Elder of the Village. The only one in recent memory who had been

allowed to make the trip in recent memory had been Shan Pu,

accompanied by Elder Khu Lon, about a year or so ago. Tso Pu's sister,

younger by one year, had returned from her quest to fulfill the Kiss

of Death given to an outsider woman twice as long ago. When she had

returned, most expected a small celebration commemorating the victory,

but there had been nothing - only a conference with the Elders, and a

'training trip' to Jyusenkyou. No one talked about it after that fact,

and Shan Pu had left soon after for Japan again.



Apparently, the redheaded outsider woman had been giving Shan Pu more

trouble than anyone had expected. Not really surprising, given how

easily she had defeated Shan Pu in the Tournament. Finest warrior of

her generation Shan Pu was, almost certainly, but she also lacked long

term goals or insight. Simply being the strongest and fastest did not

guarantee that she would inherit a position of power in the village,

or even lead it in lieu of the Council of Elders. Still, Shan had

spent two years in Japan, and Tso was more than a little worried for

her sister after all this time, even if there was some lingering

annoyance that she had been chosen for special training, and Tso had

not. Could it be that Shan Pu and Khu Lon had gotten in over their

heads?



Tso Pu knew well enough that three thousand years of Amazon history

did not guarantee victory, or even a prosperous future. Jumping, she

led the other two girls over an unsteady rocky patch blocking the

path, and down a steeper incline and rolled down and into the midst of

Jyusenkyou. The place had a swampy feel to it, but the lack of flies

or even birds gave it an ominous, unnatural touch. Something caught on

the wind made her skin crawl, but her danger sense never activated,

which was some small relief.



"Jyusenkyou," she said, softly. The Forbidden Valley lay before them.

A hundred springs, at least, stretched out awaiting their prey, like

so many tiger traps from which there was no escape.



"I don't like it here," Plun looked around, nervousness etched on her

features, "There's an ill wind blowing."



"Relax. You have to actually end up in one of the springs to be

cursed. Its not like they can reach out and get you," Tso leaned over,

and looked into the nearest spring. The water was clear... and almost

inviting.



The three girls milled about the area, and gradually the danger of the

place started to be replaced by wonder. How many of these springs were

cursed already, and how many waiting for their turn? Where was the

Legendary Spring of Drowned Girl that the Musk had created, in their

hubris, sparking the Great Revolution that would eventually throw them

down and 'destroy' their Dynasty and their hold on the region?



"Tso! Look! I found something!"



"What?" Tso leapt up, boldly, onto one of the bamboo poles planted

firmly in one of the nearby springs. She didn't test her luck,

however, and quickly jumped to the ground near Mir Ru.



"Look," she repeated from her crouched position, and pointed to a

bruised patch of grass.



"Footprints," Tso nodded, confirming what the other girl didn't even

have to say.



"Musk. It has to be," Mir stood up, her hand resting on the sword hung

at her waist.



"Musk?" Plun leapt over, her voice eager, "Where?"



"Just some footprints. They look fresh," Tso drew out her Qiang spear.



"You aren't thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"



"You bet I am," Tso's eyes followed the tracks to a scrub area,

leading away from this Jyusenkyou, and around, possibly to another

path. The footprints were fairly heavy, and no attempt had been made

to conceal them. It was be child's play to follow them to wherever

this person had been headed.



"This isn't a good idea," Mir started.



"Come on, you two. We're the best out here, and its only one Musk. You

can't say you've never wanted to actually fight one of them," Tao have

them a quick smile, and they seemed to silently agree. Really, Tso had

been lying. Plun Gu wasn't particularly intelligent, and Mir Ru had no

stamina in prolonged fights. They were good enough with their

respective weapons, a steel mace and a double-edged sword,

respectively, but neither of them were really dedicated to fighting,

or even the defense of the village and their people.



They were slackers.



Most people were, it seemed. Still, if they thought she really thought

little of them, they wouldn't follow her. Tso Pu had quickly learnt

that people followed a leader with greater loyalty and devotion if

they believed they were needed, and important... even invaluable.

Leadership was driven by example, and fueled by devotion and respect.

Physical strength, which useful and sometimes indispensable, was not a

true prerequisite. So Plun Gu and Mir Ru followed her as she tracked

their target. It quickly became obvious that the Musk had been walking

around Jyusenkyou, looking for another trail to get to that would lead

out of the valley.



"What do we do when we find this guy?" Mir was sounding bolder, now,

that they were committed to this as a group.



"Fight him," Tso answered, plainly.



"But how?"



"It'll depend. We'll think of something when we find him."



"Awfully confident aren't you?" Plun 'hmfed' but didn't seem to be

complaining.



"No more so than others," Tso shrugged, and held out a hand, stopping

the other two girls behind her, "Hold up a second."



"What? What's wrong?"



"The tracks. They end right here," Tso slowly looked up, and realized

they'd walked into an area of high trees, "Nobody move. He's here."



"Where?!" Mir's blade was already drawn, but her hand was shaking

slightly, "I don't see anything!"



"You three are awfully far from home, aren't you?" the tone wasn't

mocking, but it wasn't friendly either. From above, something fast and

white fell, landing behind them without a sound. Without even

thinking, Mir lunged, but was met by a swirl of cloth as she connected

only with the tree behind her target, imbedding the sword several

inches into it. Then, Tso and Plun saw a face amid the white robes,

and a trail of long black hair.



"Mu Tzu?" Tso couldn't believe it - what was he doing here?! He had

followed Shan Pu to Japan months ago.



"Idiot male!" Plun growled - she was, as always, quick to anger. She

had been scared, and obviously, too. To have been psyched out by a

male Amazon was an insult, and an embarrassment to her sisters. So she

lashed out, and punched Mousse square in the face. He took it, as any

Joketsuzoku male would, and brushed the entire thing off moments

afterward. He hadn't even flinched - impressive given the bulky Plun's

raw strength.



"I guess I deserved that," he frowned, and his mocking voice came back

in full force. Plun Gu fumed, and looked about to try and wail on him

again when Tso intervened. Mu Tzu had always had a knack for pissing

people off. He wouldn't like it, her sticking up for him, but someone

had to before he was forced to defend himself, as everyone knew he

could but chose not to.



Odd ideas Mu Tzu had somehow gotten into his thick head.



"What are you doing here, Mu?" Tso gave Plun a hard look, and the

other girl backed away. Mir was still getting her sword free from the

tree.



"What are YOU doing here? Jyusenkyou isn't exactly a safe place to

visit," Mousse tucked his hands into his sleeves, and Tso noticed that

he was keeping his glasses on. He usually took them off around other

people, "No matter who you're with."



"We were looking for Musk," Plun sneered, and interrupted them, "Looks

like we only found a small fry. To small - we'll have to throw it

back, isn't that right Moo?"



Mousse didn't even seem to have heard the comment, and ignored her,

"Never mind... I really don't care. I was on my way around the valley,

to see the Guide. He was with someone before, and I want to... hear

the whole story and find out what the hell's going on around here."



Mir and Plun exchanged glances, and Mousse smiled.



"We were just heading back," Tso quickly replied.



"Oh?" Mousse's smile faded. It became somewhat obvious he was hiding

something, or several things, and taking full advantage of finding

them traveling where they were forbidden to go, "Good. I'll go with

you and meet up with the Guide later."



His eyes said the rest. No one needed to know that any of them,

himself included, had visited Jyusenkyou. In silent agreement, they

headed around and back home.



Such as it was.



Joketsuzoku.



***



    "Look at these people, Mint. I can hardly believe Lord Herb would

sup with these half-Musk."



    "That's not very nice," Mint crossed his arms, but didn't feel

like directly contradicting his friend and partner, Lime. Lime was his

elder by a few years, and had vouched for him when an older boy,

Basil, had challenged his standing as Imperial Bodyguard. The Tiger-

Blood warrior was nothing if not loyal to those he knew.



    "Its not supposed to be very nice," Lime snorted in disdain.



    "They're not Blood-Musk, but they are our cousins... they're still

family."



    "Backwater family," Lime growled, and bowed curtly as one of the

subjects in question approached and passed by on his way to the

banquet hall. Lime was silent far more often than not, but when he

spoke and expressed his thoughts, right or wrong, he was as

intractable and immovable as he was physically. Mint knew mere words,

or probably even actions, would never change Lime's engrained view of

the world.



    "That was Prince Toma, right?"



    Lime grunted.



    "He looks like an all right guy," Mint also kept an appraising eye

on Toma's two guards. The first was a large man, a good deal larger

even than Lime. His eyes seemed somewhat vacant, and oblivious of his

surroundings - odd traits in a bodyguard. He sported some fairly heavy

looking mundane armor, and it was obvious he was Toma's display of

Togenkyo muscle. The second of the two was a thin man, sporting a red

and black mask over his face, and a crop of feathers from behind his

turban. He moved with a sort of wary grace, as if naturally on edge.

He turned, slightly, noticing Mint's interest, and the younger boy

looked away quickly.



    The two walked on, following Toma, who quickly engaged in

conversation with a vivacious and mysterious young woman named Lychee,

who had arrived earlier, on the heels of Prince Kirin's

representatives. It was the three from Togenkyo that Mint paid the

closest immediate attention to. The Island was once a colony of the

Musk, centuries ago, built on a Cursed Spring, one of the oldest, if

what Mint had learned was true. They still carried on many Musk

traditions, though their practice of directly turning animals into

men, and marrying them to normal women was somewhat of a reverse of

what the Musk Traditions demanded.



    Lime saw it as a corruption of the Musk way, but Mint understood

that their traditions had been forced to change and adapt to a

different environment after the collapse of the Dragon Dynasty so long

ago. The animal traits that gave all Musk their more than human

attributes, to varying degrees, all fade over time. They are always

strongest in the first generation, and slowly start to dilute with the

introduction of ever more human blood. Tradition dictated that the

bloodlines needed to be strengthened every ten generations. Needless

to say, Musk genealogies were well kept, and public knowledge. Mint,

himself, and his brother, were both three generations removed from

their last animal-mother.



    Lime was two.



    It explained more than a few things, really, when it came to Lime.

Most living Musk were actually five or more generations removed, while

Herb... well, the Dragon Dynasty was something in and of itself. But

the Togenkyo sect of the Musk had adapted by allowing animal-fathers

every few generations, and, he'd heard, by breeding like rabbits.



    Still, 'backwater' was a cruel term.



    Adjusting his feet slightly, and more than a little uncomfortable

in his formal and inflexible attire, Mint found his mind and eyes

wandering the room. He thought back to yesterday, just after Sumac's

match. Mint's brother was handling things well enough - Sumac was

nothing if not a perfectionist and a show off, and had finished toying

with his opponent, when Herb had given that strange order, in

Japanese, for Sumac to finish the match with a killing blow. It had

only been an exhibition fight, not really serious, but still Sumac had

been ready to follow through with the order, when that... woman had

jumped in.



    Herb seemed happy that she had, but when he walked up to her, she

punched him.



    Why?



    Mint hadn't even seen a woman until recently, when he had

officially come of age, and they were still strange creatures. Oh, he

knew OF them, obviously, and what they did for the Musk, birthing the

next generation of warriors, but he had never seen one up close until

just a few days prior. Women were kept in the Female Quarter of

Xanadu, far from the Barracks, the Training Halls, or any of the other

areas where the males came and went. Mated Musk, when they wanted to,

simply visited them in the Female Quarter, did their business, and

came back. Contact was minimized, even then, and before the actual

mating interview, totally forbidden.



    Mint had seen a picture of a woman before he saw the girl that hit

his Prince. It was different in real life. It had been hard to see

that girl's breasts, because of her clothes, but he had been trying to

get a mental picture of them, and consequently had failed to defend

his Lord. Herb hadn't minded, really... or he didn't seem angry with

either him or Lime, after he had ordered the woman taken to her room,

and sulked around for a while. Mint suspected that Lord Herb, despite

being much older, didn't know much more about females than he or Lime

did.



    Of course, he would never actually say that out loud.



    Regardless, Mint found himself, suddenly, thrown into a room with

more than a few obvious females, one of the prime examples of which

came from the nearby Princedom of Nekonron. On the far side of the

room, standing next to her bearded consort, Bishamonten, who Mint had

seen a few times before, was the beautiful Monlon. Her fingers moved

lovingly over her lute's strings, and Mint's keen ears could

appreciate the soft music she was making for the small group of men

and women that had gathered around them.



    The other, closer, example was a woman named Lychee. Dressed in a

long gown, matching the color of her wave of hair, Mint couldn't help

but admire her... feminine features. They were just there, and

impossible to ignore. Let Lime say what he wanted about Prince Toma's

bloodline, it took a great deal of self control, or possibly

desensitization, to carry on a conversation with that woman without

staring at ...them.



    "That's a nice set of breasts, she's got there," Lime said,

breaking the silence between them.



    "Huh?" Mint blinked a few times, "Who?"



    "That female in the dress-thing," Lime scratched his head, and

cracked his neck, "Hey, when is Lord Herb going to show up? I want to

move around."



    "No idea," Mint sighed, and went back to staring. A bit of

curiosity came, and he focused his hearing, trying to pick up some of

the conversation.



    "I simply don't see the concern. Why should we get involved in a

mainland concern like Saffron?" Toma took a long sip from his glass,

"It may sound callous, but my business is the future of Togenkyo,

first and foremost."



"Kirin's people say the same thing, of course... and yet they are far

closer to the problem than some," Lychee's voice was melodious, and

teasing.



Or perhaps testing.



"The Dragon and the Phenoix... we distanced ourselves from that dance

centuries ago. I am not eager to return to it. And then there's the

logistics of moving a small army, through totalitarian China, without

drawing attention... no, Herb will have to stand alone here, or not at

all."



"A pity then. The Society, of course, will offer what aid it can to

keep trouble from spreading, but I do hope Prince Herb isn't too

disappointed. Our business is the study and care taking of

Jyusenkyou... we simply cannot afford a confrontation with the Phoenix

people, or their allies in the Joketsuzoku."



"Oh?" Toma chuckled, "I've heard much of the ability of the Muscle

Sword and Wind Sword Clans under your influence..."



"A small group maintained for self defense," Lychee leaned in,

conspiratorially, "We work and live in a dangerous area. It helps to

have powerful friends, Prince Toma."



***



"What is wrong with you, woman?"



"You have to ask? I'm a prisoner here... did you honestly expect me to

simply stand there and accept it?!"



Herb snarled, fists balled, frustration burning in his chiseled

features, "I don't know how to deal with you! I beat that man you were

with...!"



"And that's another thing!" Ukyou didn't have her weapons, but she had

her fists and feet, if it came to that. Brandishing the former, she

would easily have been enough to make most men tremble in fear, "What

were you doing attacking poor Mousse like that?!"



"He was in the way. He was in MY way," Herb didn't even blink at the

angry woman's display, "And he was an Amazon. I hate Amazons."



"Yeah, that's real reasonable," Ukyou rolled her eyes, "So why am I

still here? I'm no Amazon!"



"No... you're here because I... I, er," Herb backed off a bit, and

looked away from her, "You're here because..."



"Because?"



"Because I want you," he said, quickly. Too quickly, perhaps - Ukyou

quickly raised her fists and got into a fighter's stance.



"Yeah, well, don't think I'll make it easy for you!"



"No! Not like that!" Herb's hands came up, defensively, "Well, maybe

eventually... I mean: I want you to be with me."



"Just what the hell are you talking about?"



He tilted his head to one side as he looked down at her, amusement

spreading across his face, and added, "I like you."



"You're kidding?" Nothing in her voice appeared derisive, just

suspicious, "But we literally just met five minutes ago. How can

anyone 'like' someone so quickly?"



"Musk males get very serious very quickly once they decide they're

interested in someone," Herb told her, frankly.



One corner of Ukyou's mouth twisted.



"I'm not in the mood to be anyone's 'mate' at the moment."



"I wasn't either, until I saw you. I'm..." he shook his head, "You

already know that. I was on my way to Jyusenkyou to get ready to

understand women, so that I could conduct interviews to find a worthy

mate."



"The monkey?" Ukyou's hands lowered, slightly.



"Yes... the Guide picked it out, so that I could dunk it and... er...

get more comfortable seeing the female body... so as not to make a

fool of myself. When I saw you, though, I was struck, like an arrow. I

saw the Amazon, and defeated him, and then you, to prove my strength

and see if you were a powerful warrior or not. I was impressed... and

I'm not easily impressed, so I brought you back with me to make you my

mate."



"Well, you'll have to find someone else," Ukyou crossed her arms,

stubborn streak in full force, "I've got things to do, places to

see... a life to live. And it starts with me getting out of here,

finding my friend, and leaving this... this primitive hole in the

ground as far behind me as possible."



"Easier said than done," Herb smiled, dangerously. He pointed to the

closet in her room, "Pick something from the selection there. I'm

hosting a very important reception, and I want to show you off and

impress others."



"What?!" Ukyou flustered, "What do you think I am?!"



"A female," Herb's brows lowered, "And a very comely specimen at that.

Play along. You're more likely to be... let loose if you get on my

good graces."



There was a strange flicker in her eyes, before she sharply answered,

"Fine."



Herb exhaled, hard, through his nose, pivoted and stalked several feet

away, stopping with his back to her. He heard her breathing in

frustrated little gasps that slowed as she brought her temper under

control, before leaving and closing the door behind him. He was

tempted to post a guard, but decided to stand and wait for her

personally. Whether she came out dressed, or simply tried to escape,

he wanted to be the one that caught her and see the look on her face.



She was a stubborn, crude creature - nothing like he had been led to

expect. The Musk mated with other warriors, but this one, she was

like... like something else entirely. She was violent, headstrong,

independent and seemingly unwilling to be dominated. Maybe it was the

challenge that excited him, or the vision of her standing at someone

else's side, regardless, she was a conquest he was determined to make.





He did, after all, have fourteen thousand years of Musk History to

uphold.



Holding out his palm, Herb slowly channeled a small amount of

carefully controlled ki into it. When he was a child, and his power

had started to manifest, it burned. The human body really wasn't the

best conductor of ki, really. It needed to be trained to accept it in

large amounts, or else it quite literally burned out, searing the

nerves and muscle beyond repair. His dragon blood allowed Herb a

greater measure of control and knowledge, but really, he hadn't been

born with more ki than any semi-normal Musk warrior, he just knew how

to use it best. The fact that he'd trained for years on end, with the

most learned and experienced of warriors, and studied ki for years

without pause hadn't hurt either.



As the tiny ki sphere crackled to life in his hand, Herb stared deeply

into the little energy-flame he'd given birth to. It expanded and

contracted, slowly, with his breathing and moved very slightly to the

rhythm of his heartbeat. Some saw the Dragon Prince as akin to a god,

something closer to the immortal monster Saffron than a human being.

Herb let some believe that, those that should fear his power, and

educated those that were his allies, and needed to know that he, too,

was mortal. Mortal enough to die, in the flames...



Closing his hand into a fist, he reabsorbed the ki - a difficult

thing, really, far more difficult than releasing it. It was, he

supposed, like firing an arrow or a firearm. Once unleashed, ki did

not want to be drawn back, or recalled. It was like a living thing,

born in a singular purpose, and driven to complete that purpose,

regardless of any change of heart between then and now. Herb was

distracted, but his attention instantly shifted when he heard the door

open.



And then shifted again.



"Excuse me," Ukyou tried, softly.



"..."



"Um... excuse me?" She tried again, not so softly.



"..."



"Well then... excuse YOU!"



"OW!" Herb clutched his midsection, and looked up, eyes narrow, "What

was that for?!"



"You were staring at my breasts, you jackass!!"



"So? That's what they're for, right?"



Ukyou sweat dropped, and was about to say something when she caught

him at it again. Deciding that physical violence wasn't working

particularly well of late, she grabbed his chin, and forcibly lifted

his face to somewhat eye level. Taking a deep breath, which

unfortunately caused his eyes to wander, again, she repeated the

process, and cut him off with a firm voice.



"Listen," she started, "You are not supposed to look at a lady's

breasts... do you follow me?"



"But," he frowned, obviously displeased by this revelation, "Why do

you have them then?"



"They're for... they're for," Ukyou flustered. This wasn't something

she wanted to talk about right now.



"Yes?"



"They're for... you know. Biologically..."



"I follow you. But why do they stick out, if not to attract attention

to themselves?"



"Okay," Ukyou gave up, on that point, "Yes, they are to ...attract

attention. But you're not supposed to stare at them. You're supposed

to... you know, look at them discretely."



"Discretely?" Herb considered that, "How so?"



"Like, when I can't tell that you're looking. That's when you look.

...But only if you're a pervert."



"Per-vert? What... what are you talking about?"



"What I just said. A pervert does that."



"They look when you can't tell that they're looking?" Herb repeated,

slowly.



"Exactly."



"And if they look and you know they're looking?"



"Also a pervert."



"Is... is that a term of endearment?"



"No! A pervert is a bad thing!"



"So looking at breasts makes you... bad?"



"Um... well... kinda," Ukyou groaned, trying to think things over and

present them in a way that made the most sense, "Here's how it works.

I have breasts."



"You certainly do," Herb smiled, and Ukyou had to grab his face again.



"I have them, and yes, they are there to attract attention," she

repeated, starting to lose her cool, "But a gentleman isn't supposed

to look at them, because he knows they're there. Maybe he looks once,

very quickly, then never again."



"Never?"



"Well... unless she wants them to."



"Who to?"



"Them! He! Argh!!" Ukyou clapped her hands together, "Only look at

them when you have permission to look at them. Otherwise, try and

ignore them."



"I see," Herb quirked an eyebrow, "So why are you putting them on

display, if someone had to ask permission to see them first?"



"To save time," she answered, too quickly. Ukyou knew how she looked.

She was wearing a fairly low cut light blue gown - it had looked too

good to pass up, and if nothing else, she might be able to charm her

way out of things. Apparently not, but that last comment had sort have

worked. Herb really couldn't think of anything to say in response to

it, and there was silence.



For all of five seconds.



"Can I see them now?"



"You really are a hopeless pervert," Ukyou shook her head, defeated.



***



"Those..."



"Those are some very nice titties," Mint cut his partner off and gave

Herb's woman a quick victory sign when they passed by on their way to

the Main Hall and got smacked upside the head for his trouble. Rubbing

where he'd been so cruelly hit, Mint grumbled something softly and

followed a few feet behind his Lord Herb. The two mingled, and when

Herb and his woman went separate ways, the Dragon Prince motioned

silently for Mint to switch to guarding her instead of him.



The Wolf-Musk thought about protesting. It was, in a way, insulting,

having to play bodyguard to this female... but, on another hand, maybe

it was a sign of trust his liege had in him. Really, Herb did not need

guarding - he was by far the most powerful individual in the room, so

maybe being assigned to watch over this woman was a greater

responsibility.



A better responsibility.



Mint opted to see it that way, and kept near her at a discrete

distance. He also tried to keep from staring at her breasts. Brushing

past one of the guests, he was surprised when an arm reached out and

stopped him. Turning quickly, he saw the man's face and relaxed.



"Hey," Sumac gave his brother a quick smile, "Following Herb's bitch,

huh?"



Mint glowered. His brother could be crueler than Lime sometimes.



"Ah, I was just mixing words," Sumac brushed it off, and offered in

silent apology. Mint nodded. His brother was a good person deep down;

he just tended not to think before he said things. Or he thought about

it, and just didn't care what others thought, making him come off

disrespectful and rude. It was one of the reasons why, even though

Sumac was an excellent warrior, one of the best, he hadn't been given

a position in Herb's Court, or a high rank in the Musk Kinship.



"When did you get here?" Mint kept an eye on Ukyou, who seemed to be

listening intently to Monlon's playing.



"I snuck my way in while Herb and his woman were making their gala

entrance," Sumac's voice didn't hold any sarcasm, though Mint knew it

was there, "I'm leaving tomorrow morning and thought I'd get some good

food before I headed out."



"Is that the only reason?"



Sumac tilted his head in thought, before shrugging, "Not really. I

wanted to talk to some people... and hear Herb's big speech. It'll be

amusing to see him try and convince these soft outsiders to try and

help in the battle with the Phoenix."



"Amusing isn't the word I'd have used," Mint adjusted his fox-cap

nervously, "What do you think of all this?"



"What do you mean 'all this?'"



"These people. This is the first gathering I've been to where... you

know... there were females."



"Eh," Sumac shrugged, "You get used to them after a while. I saw my

first woman when I was your age..."



"Yes, the infamous Joketsuzoku that you took down, we've all heard it

before," Mint motioned with his hands, as if portraying the image of a

giant, "Seven feet tall... arms like a man's torso, blazing red hair,

and enough cleavage to get lost in and never find your way out. Bled a

small river... Oooo!"



"Little brat," Sumac tousled his brother's hair, and watched him

squirm to get away. It was so much fun embarrassing the little guy.



"Go on and do your stuff," Mint started to fastidiously comb over his

hair with his hand, as if fixing a work of art, "I've got to keep an

eye on Herb's woman."



His brother nodded and started to walk away, but paused and spoke over

his shoulder, "Just don't look too closely, little Mint. Females are

not something to get mixed up with at your age."



"I know what I'm doing," Mint lied, and Sumac gave a quick laugh

before walking off. Walking a bit closer, perhaps emboldened by his

own words, he tried to both fit in, and mentally separate himself from

what was going on. It wasn't a situation he was used to, or really

prepared for. As he started to feel comfortable, and inconspicuous,

Monlon stopped playing, finishing her performance with a soft trailing

note.



"That was beautiful," Ukyou spoke up, first... boldly, in a way.



Monlon considered her for a moment, before answering simply enough,

"Thank you. Miss...?"



"Kounji Ukyou. From Kyoto Japan," Ukyou gave a small bow.



The older man standing next to Monlon spoke first, "Bishamonten. Of

the Seven Lucky Gods Martial Arts Clan, Nekonron."



"Monlon," the woman followed his example, "Of the Seven Lucky Gods

Clan, Nekonron."



"Seven Lucky Gods?" Ukyou seemed incredulous, "I thought that was just

a legend."



"Many things thought to be legend are, in fact, quite mundane," Monlon

plucked softly at her biwa lute. She had an imperious tone, but not

condescending, "You're a long way from Kyoto, Kounji Ukyou."



"Yeah. I was visiting Jyusenkyou with a friend of mine when this

jackass knocks him out and drags me off like some caveman

Neanderthal," she didn't sound happy, naturally, "You can probably

guess who that was."



"Not really," Bishamonten inclined his head, "That could be the work

of almost anyone in this part of the world."



"Well it wasn't just anyone," Ukyou said, faintly, and trailed off,

"Anyway, what brought you two out here?"



"Nekonron is close by. We were invited to attend in lieu of Prince

Kirin," Monlon smiled, "Our dealings with the Musk Dynasty go back

many years, as does our alliance against the Phoenix god Saffron,

which will, no doubt, be the subject of the day's discussions."



"What is this Saffron thing, anyway?"



"Saffron is a being of fire and flesh, nurtured and risen by the

people of Phoenix Mountain. His last incarnation was... less than

benevolent," Bishamonten frowned, "Two Lucky Gods were lost to his

fire and rage, as well as many others not of our Clan. Many Musk died

before Saffron was defeated."



Ukyou suddenly thought of something, "And Joketsuzoku?"



"They... chose not to get involved," the bearded Lucky God twirled the

trident-spear in his right palm.



"Is that why Herb dislikes them?"



"I do not know, Miss Kounji," he became silent, as if remembering

something in the past.



"It was a long time ago," Monlon cautioned, "And things are not always

so simple and straightforward."



***



Ryouga was lost.



Not physically, but mentally. His body was walking, following those he

trusted explicitly not to lead him awry, but his mind was on other

things. A great many things, but a few most specifically - and they

worried him. Looking to the side, he watched Ranma walk, next to

Akane, one hand in hers in an open display of affection, at least for

the moment. The two had alternated arguing and silently enjoying each

other's company on the short train ride back to Tokyo.



What worried the lost boy was the feeling in his belly, from deep

down. There was a missing fire, an always-present dislike for the

pigtailed boy that seemed to be smoldering. It was a comforting

feeling, his hatred for Ranma Saotome, after so long. A complex

mixture of jealousy, rage, betrayal, pity, respect and admiration, it

was as much a part of who he was, and who he had become, as his

bandanna, or his combat umbrella, or his martial arts. But now, it was

dwindling, and it was as if a hole was forming, an empty void only

momentarily filled by his anger and hatred towards Taro.



Taro who he had killed; buried under tons of rock.



Taro who, like only Ranma before him, Ryouga had, at the very least,

fought and tried to kill... wanted to kill. Ryouga had often thought

long and hard about his actions in the last fight he had had with

Ranma, and how, indeed, he had tried to kill the object of his anger.

Fortunately, he hadn't succeeded, and Ranma had survived every lethal

attack thrown his way. But Taro, 'Pantyhose Taro,' Nabiki had revealed

his full name, and the source of his ire, had brought back that frenzy

and that urge to feel pain under his fist, to hear the breaking of

bone and find release in the crushing of an opponent.



A year ago, the thought would have fortified him.



Now, it scared him.



Was he some kind of natural born killer? Ryouga had accused Ranma of a

great many things, most of them accurately the other boy's fault, but

Ranma was no murderer. Ranma was, despite Ryouga's attempts at

'destroying his happiness' and even ending his life, a happy person,

if not a very healthy individual. And he was willing to forgive. That

was the most amazing thing. Would Ryouga have ever let the feud go, if

Ranma had seriously tried to kill him?



Certainly, Ryouga could try to forgive, but his nature would never let

him forget any injustice done against him. He remembered every face,

every word, every slight and every insult in crystal clarity, and

those memories haunted him every time he closed his eyes. It was

another thing to envy in the Saotome boy: his ability to move on with

his life. The lost boy resolved himself - he had never truly forgiven

Ranma for what had been done in the past, and while he could never

forget, no matter how hard he tried, he would forgive him. He would

move on.



Even if it was difficult.



Even if it left a hollow pit in him a mile deep.



It was morning, already, and the sun was just starting to rise over

the horizon. He felt soft hair brush against his cheek, and realized

that Nabiki was starting to stir in his arms. Both Tendo girls had

fallen asleep in the train on the way home, but while Ranma had opted

to wake Akane up, Ryouga preferred to let Nabiki sleep. She barely

weighted anything compared to the rest of the stuff he had with him,

anyway, so it wasn't really a hindrance.



She was so beautiful. And unhurt.



At the very thought, the rage came and swiftly dissipated. Taro was

either dead or dying. Unless he knew the Bakusai Tenketsu, or

something similar, there was no way out of that landslide he had been

caught in, even in his powerful monster form. A small voice reminded

him then that he had known that back then, as well as he did now, and

still hadn't turned to try and get him out. Maybe it was the look of

panic in Nabiki's eyes, or the bruise on Akane's face... in that

moment, he had done nothing. He had wanted death. He had wanted to

call down punishment of the most terrible and final variety.



There was an innate darkness to him that Nabiki knew of, but probably

didn't truly grasp. It was something maybe only Ukyou and Shampoo had

any sort of glimpse of, or relation to. To his left, he saw Shampoo

walking, by herself, apparently in thought. Slowing a bit, and

distancing himself from Ranma and Akane somewhat, he gently nudged the

Chinese girl, getting her attention.



"Hey," he gave her a friendly smile, "How are ya holding up?"



"Shampoo feel like smashed by big truck," she pointed to a long set of

shallow scrapes on her left arm, "How Lost Boy doing?"



"I'm alive, Chinese Girl," he continued, in a lower voice, "I might

not have been around at all if not for you, though. You really saved

my ass back there."



"Is what friends are for, no?"



"You bet," he blinked a few times, "Are you ...crying?"



"Amazon womans no cry!" she quickly regretted saying it, and calmed

somewhat, "Is just very late... early. Eyes get dry."



"Oh," Ryouga grinned with a sudden vacantness, or simply a lack of

understanding, "It is late. Or early. Depending on how you look at

it."



"Lost Boy go ahead with Airon and Kitchen Monster. Shampoo head back

to Nekohanten," she spoke dryly, and backed off a few feet before

waving a hand and turning around.



"Okay," Ryouga watched her go, and couldn't shake the feeling that

he'd missed something. After a moment, he chalked it down to the

weirdness of Ukyou and Mousse being gone for so long.



Which was another thing.



They'd left well over a week and a half ago, and he hadn't heard one

word from them. Almost certainly they'd have found Jyusenkyou by now,

given that Mousse had grown up in that region, and knew it like the

back of his hand (actually a disquieting notion, considering Mousse

didn't really know the back of his hand that well at all). Still,

Ryouga envied them, in more than a few ways. He still felt the pull of

his heart to wander, if only for a little time. A training trip to the

mountains was sounding better every passing day, but he knew better

than to make it appear spontaneous. A better excuse would be training

to 'sharpen his skills' which wasn't really a lie, because that was

the point of any training trip, but more importantly he needed to

clear his mind.



He'd just omit mentioning that last part.



Nabiki wouldn't want to hear it, and he didn't really want to upset

her or make her think that he was starting to feel tied down. Or that

how that fact made him feel equal parts frightened and wonderful. No,

he'd leave in a few days, after telling everyone beforehand. Soun

would wish him luck, Kasumi would pack some snacks for his trip, Ranma

would make a few snide remarks about him getting lost for half a year

again, and Akane would hit him with something. Unfortunately, Ryouga

couldn't really predict how Nabiki would act. Feigned indifference was

most likely, and she could be very difficult to read at times.



"No matter," he steeled himself mentally. It was something that needed

to be done. Everything branching from it was conditional and

secondary.



"Come on, P-chan!" Ranma suddenly called out, over his shoulder,

"We're almost home!"



"What the hell did you call me?!" Ryouga growled back, but kept his

voice low, so as not to wake the woman in his arms. Ranma broke into a

run, and Akane and Ryouga were quick to follow, the former because she

was excited to be back home, and the latter because he didn't want to

lose sight of either of them and get lost. That would be exceedingly

bad timing, given the circumstances.



They came to a halt in front of the main gates to the Tendo property.

The air was a bit misty, but not unpleasant, and not enough to trigger

anyone's Jyusenkyou curses. Which reminded him...



"Hey, Ranma," Ryouga wasn't in the mood for any verbal sparring,

"Check the mail. Tell me if my new issue of 'Modern Jyusenkyou' came

in."



"Huh?" Ranma's eyes widened, "Oh, you mean the Jyusenkyou Products

Catalogue?"



"None other," Ryouga licked his lips in anticipation, "I want to place

my order for some of their new Waterproof soaps early."



That way, they should arrive around when I get back from my little

soon-to-be-announced 'training trip,' he left unsaid. Ranma rummaged

around in the mailbox, but came out without anything of consequence.

Ranma looked at the cover of one of the pieces of mail and 'eeped.'



"What?" Ryouga leaned over, to get a better look, "Challenge Letter?

Dojo Destroyer?"



"Worse. Hot water bill. No Catalogue, though," Ranma shrugged and

followed Akane into the yard after she unlocked the door. Ryouga

wasn't far behind.



"Ah... home sweet home," Akane slowly opened the door and stepped

inside, sliding off her shoes.



"Akane, is that you?" a voice came from the kitchen - it seemed that

Kasumi was up early. ...Even earlier than normal.



 "Yeah," she answered back, following the voice. Ryouga managed to

navigate into the living room, and gently laid Nabiki down on the

couch. Sighing, and leaning back on the small corner he kept for

himself, he just managed to catch something... someone... out of the

corner of his right eye. Pivoting and looking up, he gulped.



"Hello again, Hibiki-san," Natsume stood behind the couch, arms

crossed.



Bad timing indeed.



***



"At last. My training is complete. Soon... the vile sorcerer will

tremble at my feet..."



Nerima was an odd place for pets of any variety. It got spontaneously

wet, seemingly at random, and it was full of weird people. An example,

both of the weirdness, and of the pets in the area, was one 'Mr. Green

Turtle.' Now, Mr. Green Turtle was green, indeed, but he was no

turtle. Mr. Green Turtle, or Midorigame, was actually an Australian

Saltwater Crocodile, 'Crocodylus porosus.' A species of crocodilians

commonly found many, many miles to the south, in the northern parts of

Australia and the warmer parts of Southeast Asia. Obviously, he wasn't

most people's first choice in pet.



"Oh hohohohoho!!"



Now, the Saltwater Crocodile has a great many names associated with

it. 'Saltie', Indo-Pacific Crocodile, Singapore 'small grain'

Crocodile, Baya, Buaja, Buaya maura, Gator, Gatta Kimbula, Gorekeya,

Kone huala, Jara Kaenumken, Pita Gatteya, Pukpuk... Rawing crocodile,

Semmukhan Muthlelei, Sea-going crocodile, Subwater crocodile, Man-

eating crocodile... but never 'Mr. Green Turtle.' Unfortunately,

Midorigame lacked the simple brainpower to understand how he got into

such a strange situation.



Though he was ignorant, it had begun many years ago, when a young

Kodachi Kuno, on a trip to Singapore with her father, brother, and

mother, had seen some baby crocodiles chirping innocently in a zoo.

Much screaming, whining, and ribbon tossing resulted, and a young Mr.

Green Turtle had been plucked from a croc farm and shipped out to his

new friend. Life had quickly become a routine matter for the humble

crocodile.



Try and bite the loud man-person who always ran around breaking

things.



Wait for the curvy creature to throw food into the water (he could

always tell it was her by the annoying and loud sounds she made).



Sleep.



Wait for something interesting to pass by.... And bite it.



It was a good, life, really. Except when it got cold. Mr. Green Turtle

hated the cold. And he hated weird stuff. Unfortunate, given where his

owner lived. Earlier, there had been a duck swimming in the water. He

didn't recognize it, and snapped at it, and had ended up cut by lots

of sharp things. How had that happened?



Another time, this loud creature, similar to the one that fed him, but

not quite sounding or looking the same, ended up in his pond. When it

didn't look like she was going to leave his territory, he snapped at

her, and tried to chase her around and maybe get a few good bites in,

for good measure. Then she kicked him! It hurt a lot, and he'd ended

up like that one time the man-person threw his food in the water and

Midorigame had eaten it.



"Brother, dear... what IS that in the yard?"



And then there had been this little black creature he tried to eat

once. Midorigame shivered at the memory. This wasn't supposed to

happen! The Saltwater Crocodile can grow up to 7 meters long. It has a

large head and lots of pointed teeth. It is the largest living

reptile. How does one end up in such situations?!



Still, he liked mornings, and the morning sun, and the morning feeding

of tidbits, so Mr. Green Turtle surfaced and gave his Empire a quick

once over. Lo and behold, he saw something drinking at the edge of the

pond, greedily slurping up Midorigame's precious supply of water -

literally eating his home. Instincts kicked in, and he floated towards

it slowly.



I am... a log.



Think like a log.



Move like a log.



Be... the log.



Sensing that he was close enough, Mr. Green Turtle hurled himself

forward with much bluster and splashing, mouth wide... and then he

stopped. Apparently his mouth wasn't wide enough. Just short of

actually biting into his target, Midorigame had paused. As he did, the

nonplused other animal's head turned slightly, and two large eyes

focused on the Crocodile.



"Snort."



Deciding to let the creature have the water if it wanted it so badly,

Mr. Green Turtle went back into the water to sulk.



"That's the second largest swine I've ever seen. Truly, it must be

possessed by magics most foul..." Kuno blinked, drew his legendary

bokken, and then a legendary breath of air, "Have at thee, great pink

beast, and feel the bitter sting of my mighty blade from which all

heavenly justice must surely spring and know that the taste of defeat

you shall not but savor was delivered to you at the hands of the one

and only Tatewaki Kuno, Blue Thunder of Furinkan High!!!"



Much pain ensued.



***



Ukyou had come to realize that she really could have picked up some

Mandarin Chinese. While a fair number of people spoke and understood

Japanese, most had only a cursory knowledge of it. She was also

finding she enjoyed being the center of attention, which left a guilty

and angry feeling behind whenever she thought about it. There had been

a nice dinner, and though she expected dancing and entertainment to

follow, many of the more interesting (and fluent in Japanese)

individuals had left for a guarded antechamber, Herb among them.



Really, she suspected, it was her best chance yet to escape... and

trek through the mountains without equipment in the vain hope of

finding a village or group of people who spoke Japanese. All right,

she silently admitted to herself, she was pretty well and screwed in

the escaping department, even if they let her just walk out, which she

doubted they would. One of Herb's personal guards, the younger one,

had been following her at a small distance her entire time here.



She was about to turn and talk to him, though about what she had no

real idea, when she bumped into someone her height. She was an

attractive woman Ukyou's age, maybe a year older, with waves of light

orange hair matching her dress. For an odd reason, Ukyou felt a

littler on edge around her. The other girl laughed politely in a

soprano voice.



"You must be Koinji Ukyou."



"Um... I am," Ukyou gave a quick bow, "You're...?"



"Lychee," she said, with a small smile, "Herb is making a good

impression with you."



"Huh?"



"Prince Toma, certainly, finds you very attractive," Lychee closed her

eyes, as if in deep thought, "They've all gone off to hear Herb's

proposal, in case you were wondering. I was about to head over

myself."



"Are we allowed?" Ukyou was surprised she had even asked such a thing.

What did she care?



"No. But I'm sure we can charm our way close enough to listen in," her

eyes took on a mischievous gleam, "Well? You come with Lychee?"



After only a moment, Ukyou nodded, "Why not? Its not like they're

going to kick me out of here or anything."



***



"How many of us remember that day?" Herb sat on his ivory throne, his

brows creased in memory, "How many remember the blood and the tears of

that last charge my father led? The Dragon never forgets..."



"Twenty five years ago, Saffron rose from his grave in Phoenix

Mountain. Not content to enslave his own savage people, he swept down

into Musk lands, killing or brainwashing any who stood against him.

For a time, we alone stood between the fire and all your homes. In

battle after battle, we rained arrows down on the Phoenix god, and he

simply plucked them out like bee stings. Hammer blows, even the edges

of the finest blades... none of these could stand against him, and

even the most powerful ki attacks could only keep him at bay,

unprotected as all were from his cloak of firestorms."



"Our allies, our friends, the Seven Lucky Gods came to our aid, and

bolstered by them, we stood one last time against Saffron. My

father... memory preserve him... finally confronted the demon,

personally, knowing that there would be no battles following this one,

no matter which way it went. Into the cloak of flames, he charged, and

locked arms with his enemy. ...Young as I was, I remember it. I

remember the sight of him, burning away... his ki boiling to

uncontrollable levels, and then, finally: the end. The end of both

Saffron and my father, both consumed in the pyre. With their cruel

master destroyed, the Phoenix savages fled into unorganized rout, and

I was handed the reigns of leadership as Prince of the Last Musk

Dynasty."



"I call upon all of you. I call upon the Armies of our brothers in

Togenkyo, and the young Prince Toma," Herb held his hand out towards

where Toma sat, in between his bodyguards Toristan and Wonton.



"I call on the mobile resources of Nekonron," his hand swept over to

where Bishamonten sat, the Lucky god of War and Defense, cross-legged,

smoking a pipe.



"I call on the Jyusenkyou Society's contacts, wealth and supplies,"

Herb's hand became a fist as it passed by the two male representatives

of the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society, "Together, we will not only

prevent the rise of another Saffron, an event just on the horizon, but

also prevent anything like him ever threatening us again."



"You're words are well chosen," Bishamonten, exhaled deeply, smoke

billowing from his mouth, "I was there, young Dragon, when we held

against the Phoenix. Two Lucky Gods did not return from that battle.

What, exactly, do you propose?"



"A two pronged attack," Herb rubbed his hands together, eager to

explain his plan of action, "First, and most important, we much strike

at the heart and the source of the problem: Saffron himself."



Toma interrupted, "Assault Mount Phoenix? Even I know that Fortress is

impenetrable. It cannot be done."



"No... impossible for a conventional army, perhaps," Herb frowned at

the prospect, "However, I propose the organization of a small elite

force, the finest of our warriors, myself included, to sneak in, wreak

havoc, and leave with the ultimate prize - the young Saffron,

himself."



There was a chorus of murmurs.



"A child," Herb spoke up, sensing the cause of their discomfort, "Who

even now plots our enslavement. The foundations of evil that the

Saffron of a quarter century ago built remain, untouched, deep inside

Phoenix Mountain, waiting to be unleashed. We either strike now,

boldly and decisively, while we have the time and opportunity, or we

wait for the gouts of flame and ash to fall on our heads and burn

everything we have built to the ground!"



"I... sense there is yet more you wish to share with us," Bishamonten

looked from Herb to Toma and back.



"Yes," Herb's voice turned rapidly from impassioned to cold, "There is

the matter of the Joketsuzoku."



"I was not aware that Amazon women played any major part in this,"

Toma cleared his throat, "How many enemies do you have, Prince Herb?"



"The... Amazons," Herb said the word slowly, with contempt, "Are

allies of the Phoenix. No longer content to sit on their haunches and

watch as others die to defend them from slavery, my sources reveal

that they now openly ally... openly support a risen Saffron."



"Ah," the young Prince Toma said nothing further.



    "They will have to be dealt with. And they will be... once Saffron

is in our custody, and while the Phoenix warriors exhaust themselves

smashing against the impenetrable defenses I have prepared for them,

we shall march the bulk of our forces around the Jyusenkyou Valley,

and onward towards the Joketsuzoku. We will crush them for daring to

ally with the Murderers of Jusendo, and for betraying us at the Soryn

Pass, and in so doing, we will put an end to three thousand years of

rebellion, dishonorable raiding of Musk lands, and male oppression.

Let what remains of their 'Elders' contemplate that, before they again

turn against the Musk Dynasty."



"The Society... will consider this proposal," one of the

representatives, a tall lanky man in a suit, stood, "After council

with the Assembly."



Bishamonten was the next to rise, as others filed out, "If nothing

else... young Dragon. You will have my spear for this cause. After

Soryn, I've no love of the Joketsuzoku, and never any for the

Barbarians that flood from Phoenix Mountain."



"My thanks, noble Bishamonten," Herb crossed his arms, and bowed

deeply, in respect. The elder warrior had stood by his father, King

Herb, up to that fateful charge, when at last, he had been ordered to

fall back. Lastly, Prince Toma seemed to hesitate in leaving the

antechamber. Silently, he motioned for his bodyguards to head out

alone, and Herb did the same, sending Lime outside, until only the two

Princes stood, alone.



"I am not a fool, Prince Herb," Toma spoke in low tones, "I have not

distinguished my rule, and I have indulged myself... perhaps too much.

You took the Dragon Throne at the same age I took the Land of

Togenkyo, even if your blood does age more slowly then mine. Know that

you have my respect."



"I would prefer to have your sword in the coming storm, Toma, then

your respect in my home," Herb looked down at the younger Prince, but

his voice held only truth.



"You... may yet have both," the side of Toma's mouth crept into a half

smile, "It has been a long time since I had a good fight. Longer still

that it was for a good reason, much less a worthy cause."



As the young man left the antechamber, he bumped past two women.



One was smiling.







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