As before, previous chapters of Learning Curve, for those who care, are at:

http://www.wpi.edu/~jbw


This is version 2.0, and doesn't have any authors notes in it. 
Actually, none of them have since, like, part 4 or something...
Ah well. Whatever. Here it goes!

__________






-- Attached file included as plaintext by Ecartis --
-- File: LC8A.TXT

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 IIX

by:   J. Wagner   (Mako)


1974

Soryn Pass

The clatter of hooves brought the men to attention, and many looked up
at their liege lord with bloodshot eyes. Still, at his approach, and
the approach of his envoy, their number at full stood, heads bowed.
Behind the King rode the young Prince, and his two adult bodyguards,
formerly the King's. Normally, the boy would have been given a new set
of his own, but every able warrior was needed elsewhere. Stopping his
horse, the King dismounted, the hard cold ground giving an almost
audible crunch at his landing.

For a moment, he looked to the east, where signal fires burned in the
distance.

"Steady, Huansan," he felt the horse's tension, and ran a hand down
its back. The King was a tall man, even among the Musk, and no sooner
had he dismounted, than a female servant ran to his side, struggling
with a set of armor. On his own horse, the Prince shifted
uncomfortably, but said nothing, watching instead as the heavy lead
and iron armor, identical to that of a common Musk soldier, was
strapped onto his father, over the regal dragonscale, gold, and white
of the Dynasty of the Dragon.

"King Herb," a man approached the King, and gave a deep bow.

"Paso Li," King Herb inclinded his head, both as a gesture, and to
allow the servant to take his long weave of white hair in hand, and
out of the way, as his circlet helmet was fitted over the King's brow.
The other man was a dark skinned fellow, compared to the other Musk,
and possessed of a sneaky face that the young Prince simply couldn't
find himself able to completely trust. Rat Blood, he identified it
instantly, though he had never seen the man before.

"My Lord, it pleases me to see you here, so soon, and in person. It
will be a great boost in morale for the men, my Lord."

"Have you confirmed the presence of the Phoenix Demon? He is the
reason I am here."

"Our scouts have reported that he marches at the head of fully a third
of his Air Corp."

"So he is present, in the fire and in the flesh," King Herb snorted,
derisively, "I will counter his presence myself. What of the rest of
his forces?"

"As you know, his Conscript forces have broken apart during the march
here. I... We believe he may be dividing them into waves - perhaps as
many as ten, not including his reserves. Most likely he will hold
those back to guard his rear and support structures, as well as the
base camp established to the northeast of Soryn Mountain, in case he
needs to make a tactical withdrawal."

"And his other Air Corp?"

"Patrol and skirmishing, mostly. We believe it will be mainly harrying
attacks to our north... we have already moved several additional
contingents of auxiliary troops and archers to cover our northern
flank."

"That concerns me," Herb held out his left hand, and the servant
quickly started affixing a gauntlet to the forearm bracer.

"My Lord? I should think that this would come as good news?"

"If Saffron is not deploying assault assets to the north, he surely
means to smash his way through with conscripts. He would not risk so
much, were he not confident of victory."

"I know your troubles, my Lord. But rest assured, my scouts have not
reported the arrival of any Phoenix artillery in the region."

"And you do not find that odd, Paso Li?" Herb's tone bordered on the
annoyed, for the first time, "Saffron would not put forward an
infantry assault, through the center and across Soryn Pass, unless he
had his artillery."

"We saw none, Lord. Nor have we been under bombardment ourselves,
though opportunity allowed it."

"What of the Lucky Gods? Where is King Lager?"

"Aboard his Airship, my Lord. To our southwest."

"In position?"

"Yes, my Lord..."

"And the Joketsuzoku?"

"They," the weasel-like man stuttered for a moment, "They, er... have
not arrived on the field, my Lord."

"You mean they're still marching from Athenon?" Herb tightened the
strap on his right bracer, and dismissed the servant attending to him.


"I do not know, my Lord. We have not received word from them in some
time."

"Those damn Amazons... late to everything, eh?"

"Apparently, my Lord," the sycophant hung around the Dragon King, and
nodded quickly. Herb largely ignored him, and took a few experimental
steps forward. The armor was heavy, a good seventy pounds by itself,
but he was a large man, and physically stronger than most - King Herb
was more concerned about freedom of movement, but that was only a
concern in close combat. He quickly turned on the servant woman and
bodyguards, and pointed to the Prince.

"Take him back to the rear line, out of mortar range," Herb looked
quickly from his young son, to his men, down the long row of weary
Musk warriors. There were their medium troops - armored as he was, and
armed with an assortment of weaponry. The majority of them wielded
swords for close ranges, and glaives for reach. They were the core of
the Musk forces, both here and elsewhere - good, general-purpose
warriors; the kind that traced their traditions of warfare back a
dozen millennia. Not as heavily armed or armored as the Assault troops
King Herb passed earlier, and held in reserve, nor as light and fast
as his scouts or auxiliary corps, they did not have to be. The enemy
would come to them, and crash themselves to bits in the process.

That was how it had always been.

Recently, however, things had changed. Passing by the assembled
warriors, he noted a few bullet wounds - the result of a new weapon
introduced in grand fashion just months earlier. Snipers, armed with
heavy caliber rifles. They were perhaps the most dangerous troops in
Saffron's army, and the Phoenix 'God' had been careful to groom and
nurture his young Airborne Sniper Corp. Musk were nothing if not
tough, however, and Herb reassessed his previous position. The wounds
were, most likely, due to smaller rounds from Conscript submachine
guns.

The...the name slipped his mind for the moment - it was a Russian
weapon, however: one of many firearms to have fallen into the hands of
Saffron's slave-warriors. Though unable to fight in close quarters,
Saffron's peon army made up for that failing with sheer numbers and
fanatical zeal. Under the influence of the surikami eggs, entire
villages had been wiped out and conscripted to serve Saffron, their
new God and King. Worse, these peasant men and women would charge into
the face of death itself, happily throwing away their lives at the
Will of Saffron.

King Herb nearly spat in disgust.

"How many attacks have the garrison thrown back, Paso Li?"

"Four light probing attacks, my Lord," the Rat Blood Musk rubbed his
hands together as they walked and talked, "I cycled out many of those
in the garrison, as you see yourself after the third wave, and
replaced them with fresh warriors shortly before I heard of your
arrival."

"Hmm," Herb nodded, slowly, "Casualties?"

"Ours or theirs, my Lord?"

"Both," he replied, after a moment.

"Only seven dead, my Lord. ...And thirty six wounded," the shorter
Musk adjusted the strap around his neck attached to his light armor as
he talked, "We have counted one hundred and twelve enemy dead. The
wounded would not be taken prisoner."

"And their weapons?"

"Some rifles, pistols... numerous swords of dubious quality... why do
you ask, my Lord?"

"Simple curiosity. Saffron has kept his forces well supplied, despite
our best raiding efforts..." King Herb said, stopped, and looked out
over Soryn Pass, from the slight ledge they were at. It was a deep
chasm, a crack in the earth between mountains, straight drops down who
knew how far. The only point where it could be passed was the great
mortar bridge that spanned the gorge. Built centuries ago by the Musk,
it was also a small fortress on either end: a single tower blocking
entry to those unknown or unwanted by the Musk in their domain. A
series of steps, hewn out of the rock, led down to a flat area, and
from there to the West Tower, where Herb could see warriors milling
about the parapet, waiting for the attack they all knew would come.

Straining his neck, and looking around a steep Cliffside to his left,
the King could also just see the tip of the Fortress Airship of the
Seven Lucky Gods. It was a truly impressive sight, in full. The ship
was just that: a ship, several hundred feet long, magically
constructed and held together, and given flight by a similarly crafted
balloon. Well armed, relatively, and very well armored, even the
balloon part, the Airship would cement their southeast flank.

"For too long, we've been pulling back, and withdrawing, and
retreating... by the gods... the real gods, we stop Saffron here, Paso
Li. We give no more ground to this... perversion," The elder Herb
hissed through clenched teeth, "There are over fifteen villages behind
us. I won't have them fall to these Phoenix animals! I won't!"

"Scorched Earth, my Lord?"

"...If need be, yes."

"A sad thing, indeed... Schulzu, Anozou," Parsley stopped listing
names of villages no longer found on the map.

"It won't come to that," Herb's sharp eyes picked up movement, to the
east, almost like a moving cloud against the mountain background, "It
won't, Paso Li. We hold the line here and now. ...Ready the men."

Beyond the range of his eyes, King Herb felt more than saw the
approaching storm. Saffron himself was moving forward, not content
here to simply watch the battle unfold, and only the Musk King, only
the Dragons' blood, could counter the power of the monster. Only he
could abate the momentum of the Phoenix Lord. It was both the dragon's
duty, and their curse.

***

    A wise man once said that power was intoxicating.

    "This is a waste of time," Ukyou sighed.

    "Come now, my woman... Court duties may be dull, but there will
soon be enough battle to go around," Herb shifted a bit on his throne.
He wasn't nearly as comfortable with administrative duties as his
father, or his grandfather, had been. Musk Lords of the dragon blood
were of two varieties, the patient judicators, and the brash warriors.
Of the two, Prince Herb was the latter. His father, the Great King
Herb, had somehow been both.

A great man in life, as well as in death.

"I told you not to call me that," Ukyou seemed about to continue, but
decided to simply save her words for later. Herb was obviously
relieved not to lose face further by arguing with her in his own
Court.

"What of our preparations for war, Borage?" Herb leaned forward a bit.
The throne was not nearly as comfortable as it seemed to be. Ukyou's
was better - the 'Queen' of the Musk was a non-existent title. She
was, supposedly, the first mate of the King. She technically had no
power, no status, and no say in things, no rank even above other
females, mated or unmated. Her only station came from him. Her
'throne,' which was more of a couch, was behind, below, and to the
left of the King. It was not a place Herb wanted to ever find himself
in, but at least it looked comfortable. Then again, at least he didn't
have to stand like everyone else.

"They continue apace, my Lord," Borage, Herb's chief advisor, and the
oldest living Musk, faced Sumac and another Musk, shorter and with a
less confident air to him, "Do they not?"

"I have news both good and bad," Sumac answered for the two of them as
he stepped forward towards the center of the circular hall, "Our
forges, smiths and scribes have been working nearly without pause to
fully ready our forces. Concern over actual manpower numbers remains a
great concern... we have not the numbers we did during the last great
campaign. As such, it has been a primary goal to outfit our warriors
with the finest equipment, and while our surplus from years past more
than covers our needs on paper, in practice it has proven more
difficult. Organization of logistics is also a concern..."

"This is preposterous!" a Musk from the opposite end of the hall
interrupted, "An insult! All this concern over... food, over horse
feed! Our warriors are the finest on earth, their hearts filled with
zeal and honor to defend our Ways and our Arts!"

"Logistics remains a concern," Sumac continued, ignoring the outburst,
"We have begun to improve on the situation, due to the aid of the
Jyusenkyou Preservation Society... and a slow but steady influx of
Togekyou troops has helped bolster the situation in regards to our
numbers, but overall, things are behind schedule."

"I was not fully aware of this... why?" Herb growled, letting his
disdain be obvious.

"We did not wish to lay the burden of such trivial things on your
shoulders, Lord Herb," Sumac made a short, flowing bow and differed
slightly to the shorter Musk, in an effort to divide the Dragon Lord's
censure.

"Trivial or not, it resides within my domain," Herb frowned, deeply.

"My apologies. The situation was primarily due to increased patrols
following extended routes... around the Jyusenkyou area, into the
Valley... beyond where we normally go."

"But we dare not cut the numbers of men we send on each patrol, my
Lord," the shorter Musk accompanying Sumac spoke up, quickly, "Nor the
numbers of patrols themselves."

Sumac gave a soft laugh, "Patrols in force will only further alarm the
Joketsuzoku. As it is, they no doubt suspect our involvement in
something major. Our Intelligence reports, as do those of the Society,
substantiate a mobilization on their part. Possibly part of a simple
retraining, or in preparation for one of their... coven ceremonies...
it is unknown."

"I see," Herb closed his eyes and leaned back against the hard stone
of his throne.

"The good news, Sumac, if you would. This Court has heard enough of
the former," Borage's deep voice rumbled in the hall.

"As you wish," Sumac cleared his throat, "As I said, our...
noncombatant elements have been working feverishly, and unit training
and exercises have entered stage three. The Togenkyou regular units we
are keeping segregated, at the moment, while they work up to par...
additionally, great progress has been made in moving normal
noncombatants to the war units, and supplementing them with non-Musk
labor. This labor has come from both Togenkyou, the Society, and from
a few neighboring villages, following the protocols you yourself put
down, my Prince."

"Go on," Herb prompted, not wooed by Sumac's words.

"Fortress and emplacement reinforcement and defenses are at their
final stages, ahead of our timetable... and outfitting of predicted
forces is nearly complete. Our heavy assault Divisions will be ready
for full action and deployment within twelve days. Standard Divisions
will be ready in six, Light Divisions in seven, and Auxiliaries in
nine. The status of our Lucky God allies is also pleasant news...
retrofitting of their airship was completed earlier today. Bishamonten
reports that it should be more than capable of delivering, supporting,
and commanding an entire Standard Division of warriors by itself. Two,
if pressed."

"Roughly following the Timetable," Borage tapped his staff onto the
marble floor, "Is there more, Sumac?"

"Er... no," he took a step back, "That is all if importance, Prince
Herb. Councilor Borage. Despite some setbacks, we shall be ready to
move when needed. Our blades will be sharp, our armor strong, and our
warriors ready."

"I should hope so," Herb dismissed him with a quick nod, "Lastly, let
me hear from ...Pantyhose. I wish to hear from my dear little brother,
now that he is so well rested from his arduous quest overseas. Perhaps
he can confirm some of Sumac's statements...?"

Ukyou watched as a tall Musk, one she hadn't seen before (though she
hadn't seen even a tenth of them all in her time at Xanadu) stepped
forward. He had loose pants, dragonscale vest type outfit on, similar
to Herb's, but obviously more worn, and less ornate. Strangely, he
also had a pantyhose sash tied about his waist like a belt. Bishounen,
she thought, fit the man's description well. It fit Herb, too,
really... but this guy even had a pair of earrings.... Though the scar
on his face seemed very out of place.

As he walked, and bowed, very shallowly, he started talking about
Japan and Musk interests and Intelligence on the surrounding area. She
also noticed that this 'half brother' of Herb's that she had never
heard of before was nearly familiar in a way. More than the simply
arrogance Herb generally exhibited, this Musk seemed to just be more
cocky. He reminded her of Ranma, in more than a few ways. Off hand,
she wondered what kind of sparks would fly if the two ever met.

"With all due respect, my liege," Taro sneered just slightly at the
word, "You have not been all too subtle in organizing things to
quickly. The word among the Joketsuzoku is that they were tipped off
some time ago, most likely by the appearance of the Lucky Gods airship
in a region so far from Nekonron."

Herb scoffed softly, "Then their preparedness is still not up to par."

"Nooo," Taro drawled, "No, it isn't... but it will be. Some time ago,
their Matriarch and head of the Council of Joketsuzoku Elders
returned. Shortly afterward, my ...male contacts within the village
were herded into Containment Posts, and contact was lost with my
sources. It is my conclusion that the Amazons are at a high state of
alert... a sort of collective PMS, if you will. Given time,
Joketsuzoku will properly fortify."

Herb rubbed his index finger and thumb together in slow circles.

"My Lord?" Taro asked, again, more irritated.

"Let it fortify."

"Let it fortify, Lord?" Borage said, unsure.

"Let it fortify. The Joketsuzoku have always been a craven, insular
bunch... they will not stick their necks out for anyone around them,
nor will they truly act against anyone unless it directly threatens
them. Time is on our side, not theirs."

"You don't understand, my..."

"Be silent, Pantyhose," Herb's lips curled into a shallow smile as he
spoke, and Taro fumed silently, "They are cowards, and shall act as
such. All you need do is verify that fact for me."

"But..."

Herb leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slowly.

"Of course," Taro composed himself and gave a quick bow, "They aren't
a concern to us yet."

"A wise man lets the fly land, before he swats it," Herb leaned back
again, and the room calmed notably, "Pantyhose, you need only concern
yourself over the location of certain artifacts, and outside
intelligence in respect to Amazon movements. Tell me of what they do,
when they do it, but do not color your analysis of them by personal
bias."

There was a short bout of laughter from more than a few Musk present.

Taro backed down, glowering at the ground fiercely.

"I wouldn't think of it, my Liege."

"Good," Herb clapped his hands together and stood up, signaling an end
to the Court session, "Good... you may disperse. Borage, make the
appropriate adjustments to the timetable, and forward them to the
Lucky Gods at your convenience."

"Yes, Lord Herb," Borage gave a differential bow to the dragon prince,
and a curt nod to Ukyou, who was stretching after also standing up.
Next to her, Mint hastily looked away, instead focusing on the armband
he now wore, and its crest, symbolizing his official adjustment of
activities from Herb's bodyguard, to Ukyou's. He still had mixed
feeling about the assignment, and whether it was a good thing or a bad
thing...

Then again, Lime had been transferred to the Heavy Assault Division.
He had a high-ranking position there, but he too had technically lost
status when Herb dismissed the need for personal bodyguards. Looking
back at his charge, he saw Ukyou give him a quick smile and a pat on
the back.

"Not particularly fun, huh?"

"Umm... nope," Mint answered in fairly good Japanese, more than a
little nervous. His heart always got a bit jumpy when she acknowledged
his presence. Nervousness with women, he figured, but it wasn't
unreasonable given that he hadn't even seen one until less than a
month ago.

"What was with Herb and that other guy... his brother?"

"Half brother," Mint corrected, quick to defend his liege, "And it is
not really my place to say."

"You could ask me yourself," Herb cut in, and Mint backed off a bit,
giving the two of them room.

"And you could stop calling me 'your woman,'" Ukyou addressed the
dragon prince with a disrespectful tone Mint couldn't really
understand, or place the root of.

"But you ARE my woman!"

"You're such a jerk," Ukyou made a quick swing at him, and Herb caught
it. Examining the small fist in his hand, he looked at her almost
softly. Leaning in, he said something softly, and Ukyou calmed a bit.
Mint had to fight from trying to listen in.

"Its just annoys me... you know?" she said softly, responding to
something Mint hadn't caught.

"I know. But it's expected. I must keep form," Herb's eyes looked to
his right, and caught Mint standing at attention, "Mint, you may take
a break. Get some practice in. Find something to do. I will take my
mate to the gardens for a brief talk, and escort her back to the
women's dormitory."

"But my duty..."

"Your duty is to follow the will of your Lord and King, is it not?"

"Yes, my Lord," Mint stood at attention, "I will return to my duty
in... some hours."

"That would be fine," Herb's voice was firm, and Mint gave Ukyou a
quick questioning look without even thinking.

"I can fend off this jackass for an hour or so," Ukyou spoke
confidently, though none-too seriously, and Mint hastily left. She'd
grown used to the younger boy being around her over the last two
weeks. He was usually very quiet, kind of shy, but eager to please
both her, and Prince Herb. When she'd heard about it, and given what
she knew about Musk society, she'd thought he'd be bitter about the
assignment, but if Mint was, she sure hadn't seen any evidence of it.

Herb's expression softened slightly when no one was around, and he
moved in a little closer to her as they walked out of the hall in
silence. She was fairly comfortable with some level of closeness
between them - Herb was, by and large, a gentleman when no one else
was around, though he still had a bad habit of staring at her. But
nice as he could be in private, or on the walks they went on together,
or even when he secretly trained her to better use her ki, he was
still a jerk in public. He'd never said as much, but she knew he had a
difficult time following in his father's footsteps, and living up to
the man's image.

She wasn't sure, however, whether everyone thought that, or just Herb.

"So... I didn't know you had a brother," she began, as the light from
outside hit them, and they entered the Courtyard.

"I don't."

"What do you mean, you don't? What about that guy...?"

"Pantyhose is not my brother," Herb shook his head, "My father took a
mistress some time ago. An Amazon mistress, during the war with
Saffron... the Dragon blood flows weakly in Pantyhose's veins. He is a
half Musk... a bastard child, full of himself."

"If you don't like him so much, why have him around?"

"To please Borage... to please Sumac, who seems to have an interest in
his fighting ability... because I cannot exclude him entirely if he
has the blood of our line... mostly because he spends more time
outside these walls than anyone else. He has information and ways of
getting information independent of the Jyusenkyou Society, who I do
not entirely trust."

"But you trust him?"

"No. Not really... he is Musk, however. His loyalties lie with his
sovereign."

Ukyou gave a questioning look.

"No one would dare betray me... and betray our thousands of years of
tradition," Herb crossed his arms furiously, and the two made their
way down a flight of marble steps to the lowest terrace in the
Courtyard, reserved for a large garden. The place was strangely humid
and warm, given their altitude and location. Many of the flowers
looked quite exotic.

"He's also half Amazon?"

Herb scowled at that, and Ukyou didn't probe any further. Herb had
personal problems with what passed for his 'family,' that he alone had
to deal with. He had no mother, from what she had heard from Borage,
and the young Herb was raised by his father and by his tutors before
he took the throne. His age was a shock too, given that he didn't look
over thirty at all.

"Those... those damn Amazons," Herb finally said, "Why must they
hassle me so?"

"Herb... maybe..."

"I am not calling off the attacks, Ukyou-san," he sat down on a small
bench, "Things have gone too far to call off. And it's for the best.
You have no idea what the Joketsuzoku and Phoenix are capable of."

"I've heard," she sat down next to him, a bit nervously, "I've heard
stories, but maybe attacking them isn't the answer..."

"If we wait, and if we do nothing... the Musk will be overwhelmed. My
father ruled at the height of our power, bolstered by Musk from the
fallen dynasties. He had heard tales of terrible wars fought around
the world, and he balked at getting involved in one of his own. By the
time he finally moved against Saffron, the war cost us terribly... I
won't make the same mistake!"

"But you haven't even tried talking to the Phoenix..."

"I have all I need to know of them. Their plans to mature Saffron
early... it can only mean a prelude to war."

"Still... that Saffron may not be this Saffron..."

"My mind is set, Ukyou-san... as are those of my people and my allies.
Even you cannot sway me against what must be done. I did... I do want
to ask you... talk to you about something else, though," he blushed.

"No."

"But I haven't even said it!"

"I know what you're going to say," she looked away, hiding her own
slightly flushed face, "No."

Herb grumbled something and looked at his feet.

"You really do have a one track mind, don't you?" she gave him a very
fast look, "Its like every other day..."

"But I need to! The line needs to go on, even if..."

"Look, I haven't even been to college yet, and we're not anything
close to being married! There's no way I'm... I'm... you know!"

"Why? You'll never find another mate as strong, or powerful, or with
so great a bloodline as I!"

"That's all you Musk think about! Ukyou fumed, and looked him in the
eyes, "Sex and fighting!"

"...So?"

"What do you mean, 'So?!' So what about the rest of the world? So what
about getting a job? What about finding someone you love?"

"Unimportant, unnecessary, and superfluous," Herb ticked the three off
on his fingers, "Musk do not concern themselves with such things. I...
I like you a lot, Ukyou-san. You're a beautiful, strong, intelligent
woman. But Musk do not 'love.'"

Ukyou felt like clobbering him but controlled herself. The Musk
culture was several worlds removed from the rest of humanity. They'd
had this conversation or something like it, a dozen times already.
Weird it was, but it worked for them, and it wasn't like she was
planning on actually staying at his 'mate,' anyway. On that topic...

"When can I go home, Herb?"

He tensed up instantly.

"I... you may leave when... er..."

"When you knock me up?"

"No!" he blurted out, "Not at all!"

"When I reject you for the hundredth time?"

"Listen...!"

"Herb," she said again, "I should be back in Japan by now. This place
is very nice, and despite being a strange guy, you're not that bad...
but I miss my friend... friends, and my restaurant, and school and
lots of other things. I'm worried about Mousse, and I just need to get
back home."

"But... Very well," he stiffened, chin up, "When this situation here
is over, you may leave if you wish. At present, however, we have no
one to spare escorting you to a city, and I would not wish you leave
on your own."

"I can take care of myself, you know," Ukyou corrected him.

"You can, yes... but I would not wish to see you harmed. Whether you
think the same of me, you are my mate, and I take that seriously."

"Good enough, I guess," she stood up, and offered him her hand, "Let's
get out of here. You can help me with my ki attack. I want to have it
ready by the time we set off for Phoenix Mountain."

"We?" Herb asked, unclear, and took her hand as he stood up.

"We. I'm going too. You'll need someone watching your back while they
all go gung ho, and charge off to die good honorable Musk deaths."

"Women don't fight along Musk warriors... it is against tradition..."

"Well, there's a first time for everything. Besides, you said you were
short on manpower, right?"

Herb, Lord of the Musk, sighed in defeat.

***

    A strange sort of birdcall warbled off in the distance, and
instantly the background noise of insects and animals disappeared. But
apparently, there was no immediate danger, and a minute later, the
nighttime sounds and activity resumed. Changing position against her
chosen tree trunk, Shampoo eased her aching back muscles and silently
wished she'd never returned to China.

"There is no need for you to stay awake," another girl, one of two
taken along with her, Shampoo didn't quite recognize which one, leaned
over to check on her, "We'll stand watch, over."

"Thanks," Shampoo said shortly, "But if it's all the same to you, I'll
stick with what I'm doing here."

The girl was silent for a moment.

"You still don't trust us, do you, over?"

Actually, she hadn't thought that much of it one way or another.

"Tso Pu trusts you," she said, "That's enough."

The other girl shrugged, and walked off to join her sister. Their
names were Cherry and Chain, but Shampoo couldn't tell one from the
other. They were girls from one of the neighboring villages under
Joketsuzoku protection and oversight. Normally, the villages only
provided labor and food to support the Amazons, but occasionally they
provided choice males and even promising girl-children to be raised by
the whole Village and the Elders. Cherry and Chain weren't Amazons,
but they had been trained by them, and Soap had highly recommended her
sister take them as backup when they finally ran into Mousse.

She also warned Shampoo not to hold back when they found him.

It was hard, hearing everything that had happened, and the words of
the Elders, condemning Mousse to exile and death for working for the
Musk. Even now, even with the sanction of the Elders, it was hard to
believe Mousse would have... or could have betrayed them. He had
always been somewhat rebellious and unorthodox, certainly, but a
danger to the tribe, and a collaborator with the Musk? It seemed
impossible.

They had been drifting apart for weeks, ever since he and Ukyou seemed
to 'hook up' in some sort of arrangement, if not a relationship. Ever
since the whole situation with Ranma had fizzled out when she managed
to get a few honest dates out with him, after bribing him with
Cologne's training, which he needed to catch up with his rival.
Honestly, she'd expected Mousse to come back in force after that, once
it became obvious that Ranma wasn't interested in her that way, but
instead he had faded into the background, and gotten involved in other
things.

It didn't make sense.

At first, Shampoo had blamed Ukyou. The Japanese girl had gone
missing, and Cologne offered the explanation that perhaps she had been
captured or convinced into joining up with the Musk, and taken Mousse
along with her. But Shampoo knew Ukyou fairly well. In many ways,
Ukyou was her rival, and Ukyou just wasn't politically inclined enough
to take sides so far from home. Which left her... no one knew where,
and Mousse a simple traitor.

Maybe all those years of rejection... and abuse...

Was it her fault?

And was the entire tribe about to pay for it?

At least she didn't have to worry about fulfilling either the Kiss of
death, or the Kiss of Marriage. The Village was on a high state of
alert when she arrived, and the Council of Elders quickly decided to
put a halt to unnecessary acts that would detract from the defense of
the village, and suspended numerous blocks of the Amazon Code of Laws.
The First to go where the Kiss of death and Kiss of Marriage Laws - it
was a sensible course of action when fighting an army of male Musk,
and risking fighting with outsider female fighters from other areas.

So her obligation to 'deal' with Saotome Ranma was, at least for the
moment, no longer something she needed concern herself with. Which
was, unquestionably, a good thing. She had been feeling steadily less
comfortable with the short-term concept of degrading herself to get
this man as her groom, and with Japan in general. What was the point
of deceiving him by being and acting like someone you aren't? It could
have worked well enough if the simple goal were for her to have his
child, but it wouldn't keep him in the tribe for any extended amount
of time. Shampoo knew that she, certainly, couldn't keep the charade
going for anything more than a year or so.

What was there to say of it?

She hated men.

Not like Tendo Akane 'hated' the male gender, obviously. Shampoo had
no doubts why they were there, and to do what - her Amazon education
had been nothing if not frank and straightforward on that subject. Nor
was she a lesbian. Many Amazons had leanings in that direction,
particularly those in the Sisterhood of Arms, or the Sisterhood of
Shields, or any of the other 'secret' mini-cults that influenced
Amazon affairs at any one time. Shampoo just hated men.

    Or, to be more exact, she didn't think very highly of them.

    They were a craven, cowardly lot. Amazon males had no backbone,
except Mousse, and he was too stubborn and bullheaded to be anything
except brain damaged in some way. Males banded together in predictable
groups, to do predictable things, and thought with their lower
regions. They were scavengers, or would be scavengers, if the
situation presented itself. Outsider males were nearly as bad as
Amazon ones. They came from a world where they dominate, and where
their values are the highest writ. The sanctimoniousness of them, and
the looks... the leering they gave her in Japan, and even in most of
China, aggravated her no end.

Ryouga had been the first one worth a damn to her. Ranma had lied to
her, tricked her, and gotten her out of his hair soon after they met,
with no regard to her situation at the time. When Ranma had done the
whole 'I'm actually female' thing, and Shampoo had switched back to
fulfilling the Kiss of Death, she'd found herself unable to go through
with it. She found herself not hating this man, and now, this woman,
and she'd ran from it, back home to the Joketsuzoku. Only later did
she realize she'd been conned.

Ryouga, though, was honest. He was honest and straightforward about
how he felt about people and things - Shampoo had to respect that. He
was also strong and skilled in the Art, and yet not overbearing or
abusive of it. If anything, he was too humble, preferring to give the
impression of somewhat lost and pathetic normalcy. He wasn't as dodgy
or full of himself as Ranma, or as clingy and needy as Mousse was of
her. They had become friends. Of course, she had the notion that more
would or could come from it than that, then things had started to
occur between him and the middle Tendo girl, and Shampoo couldn't find
anything in her wanting to ruin it for him.

She decided it must have been friendship.

She wanted him to be happy, even if it was with someone she didn't
particularly care for. It was an odd feeling. Shampoo really hadn't
had many... or even any, friends when she was young. There had been
her older sister, of course. Soap was good to her, supportive, and she
had always been there when she needed to talk. She was a good sister,
really, but not exactly very warm and caring, as Shampoo had seen
other sisters (real sisters) be to each other. Soap had disliked abuse
of their authority over males, and Shampoo knew, secretly jealous of
her sister's training under the Matriarch Cologne. Shampoo had simply
been gifted with a better body - faster, stronger, tougher... Soap had
never said anything of it, but Shampoo suspected.

Her father was male - enough said on that. The rest of the village was
almost secondary. She had trained with many other girls over the
years, and alienated many more with her status over them in the
village. She was hardly the 'Beloved Amazon' Soap had somehow become.
But she was the best, and in the long run, that was enough.

Near the campfire, Cherry and Chain were talking softly...
conspiratorially between themselves. The two girls were identical
twins, and nearly impossible to tell apart. They were like an adult
LinLin and RanRan, though much more somber and a lot less hyper, and
they had a weird way of talking. They also seemed to be herbalists or
something similar, not straightforward warriors. It struck Shampoo as
slightly odd that Soap would recommend them to go along, instead of
another warrior or two, but she supposed it was unlikely many females
would fare well against Mousse anyway. It was a surprisingly frank
evaluation of him - missing the usual bluster associated with even the
premise of an Amazon male that could fight. At least Cherry and Chain,
whichever was which, could heal her up if Mousse fought back when they
found him. Besides, there was also the chance of encountering a Musk
patrol.

"Where are you two from, anyway?" Shampoo raised her voice enough for
the twins to hear. She hadn't really talked much to them, and she
wasn't really a team person, but it wouldn't hurt to have some
background information.

 "Yao..." one of them blurted out, earning a quick angry look from the
other.

"Yaocaicun...?" Shampoo scratched her chin in thought.

"Yaosin, actually, over," the other girl, the more aggressive of the
two, corrected her sister.

"Yaosin," Shampoo said back, "I've never heard of it."

"Very small village... not on any maps, over," the girl, Shampoo
guessed was Cherry, have a broad grin.

"Whatever."

Shampoo rolled her eyes, and went back to reclining against the tree.
It was late, and she had much less patience for listening to the two
girls' quirky way of talking than most. As long as they didn't get in
her way, or get taken hostage, or anything else stupid, she couldn't
care less. She'd been ordered by the Elders to find and neutralize the
traitor that had turned against them, regardless of his reasons for
doing it, and personal feelings aside, Shampoo was not one to shirk
her responsibility towards the tribe.

Mousse was as good as dead.

***

"The Guest is in through the Door, everybody. No, don't rush up to
thank me all at once, now.... Hey, pizza!"

The tall, light blonde man closed the door behind him and greeted the
two guys in the apartment. They threw back twin grunts of
acknowledgement. Pearl looked them over. The first was a dark haired
Asian man, Takuhara Yosho, who was busy fiddling with some specialized
equipment in the corner, set up on a too-small desk. The other,
watching television, was an American, Kenji Smith. He had a short
attention span, at least when it came to prime time television, and
only stayed on a channel for a minute or so at the most before moving
on to another.

"Its okonomiyaki," Yosho corrected, English only slightly touched by
his accent.

"It's flat, it's round, it's got crust," Pearl picked up a lukewarm
half-pie and examined it, "Well, its kind of got crust. And it's
small. But it's a pizza."

 "You need cheese for a pizza," Kenji leaned back on the sofa.

"Oh, you're some kind of pizza connoisseur, now? The first pizzas
didn't have cheese, you know," Adams took a bite in between sentences.
It wasn't bad, but it wasn't that great either.

"The first pizzas didn't have tomato. They had cheese."

"What? Where'd you get that crap?"

"Don't kill the messenger. It's true. I heard it on TV. Like on the
Learning Network or something."

"I've got my doubts," Adams finished off the half-pie, tossed aside
another empty box, and found an untouched one.

"Besides, I don't think okonomiyaki has cheese or tomato. Usually.
Hey, Yosho, am I right on this one?"

"Yeah, yeah. Hold on a second," the raven haired man in question held
up his hand, and after a few seconds continued, "Okonomiyaki has...
ah... eggs, flour, cabbage, usually bento, seaweed, some kind of
meat... it can have tomato, though. You guys always order tomato with
it."

"Right, fine. Okonomiyaki, all right? I'll use the proper terminology
- you'll never hear pizza from me again," Adams sighed, and took a big
bite as he walked over to check on Yosho, "You know, the stuff from
that other place was better."

"Ukyou's?" Kenji spoke up from where he sat, still browsing through
the channels.

"That's it. Ukyou's Bar and Grill. We had her under surveillance for a
while anyway. It was a good, easy pickup. Tasty too."

"Yep. Damn good food," Kenji agreed.

"Not our jurisdiction anymore," Yosho snapped his fingers together,
"Gotcha! All set up, chief."

"Cool," Adams took another bite and looked over the radio reception
equipment, "Time?"

"Twelve... fourteen," Kenji called out, flipping to a news channel for
the exact local time.

"Right. Remember that when we fill out today's report," Adams turned
to Yosho, "Let's hear it. Kenji, turn the TV down!"

"Yeah, yeah... I wish we'd just get the call to do the Hit already."

"Sssh!" Yosho silenced the other man, and adjusted the volume dial
appropriately, after taking off his earphones.

"...You didn't pay for those, did you?"

"Oh my, no. A nice man gave them to me."

"This wouldn't be the same nice man you've been seeing behind
everyone's back, would it, sister o' mine? When do we meet him?"

"Nabiki. He's just being friendly. It would have been rude not to
accept."

"Well, come on. He's actually given you flowers! Its your obligation
to tell us, or at least me, about him now."

"Nosey, isn't she?" Adams cut into the conversation.

Yosho just shrugged.

"There's nothing to say, Nabiki," Kasumi's voice insisted. There was
also the sound of running water in the background.

"Of course there is. Is he... older than you?"

Hesitation.

"Yes," Kasumi finally said.

"He isn't a martial artist, is he?"

"Oh, I don't think so."

"Is he cute, then?"

"I... Nabiki-chan, don't you..."

"Oh, that means he IS, cute, isn't he?"

"Well, he's a very nice man."

"Kasumi-speak for 'he's a stud,'" Nabiki's voice came closer, "What
about Dr. Tofu?"

"What ...about ...Dr. Tofu?"

"I was just wondering."

There was splashing noise just then, cutting off and interrupting the
sound.

"Water. Compensating... putting on filters," Yosho clicked on two
smaller side machines, and adjusted them slightly. The sound quickly
returned, slightly softer and a little muddied, but otherwise fine.

"...Father will want to meet him. You know how he is about you, his
'favorite' daughter."

"Nabiki, father loves all of us equally. I'd appreciate it if you
didn't imply otherwise," Kasumi's voice was, for once, quite stern.

There was a moment of silence.

"...Sorry."

"I know you didn't mean it, Nabiki-chan."

"I guess I'm just kind of hassled. Or maybe not hassled. Ever since
Ryo-chan and Ranma left on that training trip of theirs, it's been...
like a sort of tension on the air. Akane... Natsume... And of course,
now that the boys are gone, and Shampoo's left for China, Happosai is
running amuck."

"He is a handful."

There was a 'thump' in the background, just then.

"That's an understatement!" Nabiki laughed, softly, "You should talk
to him. He'd listen to you... if anyone."

"What do you mean? That I should demand grandfather Happosai stop...
being himself?"

"Stop being a pain in the ass and a filthy old pervert is what I mean.
He's even testing me, now. It's like he had no fear at all. How on
earth do you keep him out of your room, and from stealing your stuff?"

Kasumi was quiet for a few seconds, as if not quite sure whether to
let her secret out or not. Finally, she relented.

"The laundry."

"What... about the laundry?"

"He avoids the laundry. Just being around... men's things weakens him.
I've always thought that was why he does his own laundry... on the
roof thank goodness. He doesn't really trust me, I suppose. Or maybe
he just doesn't like the idea of laundry."

"Hmm... a chink in his armor?"

"Oh my, Nabiki... you're not thinking what I think you're thinking,
are you?"

Insidious laughter followed.

"Interesting. More infighting around Target C, it seems. Good job,
Yosho. All this is recording, right?" Adams licked a bit of sauce from
his index finger, having finished the okonomiyaki itself.

"Patched directly into the system we were using before. Saving every
word for posterity," the Asian man smiled.

"Good. Sounds like the two of 'em are walking off," Pearl crossed his
arms in thought, "You think we got the table in the main room?"

"Depends on the impression you gave her, chief. Sounds like chances
are good, though. You caught her, hook, line and sinker."

"Yes," Adams' voice softened a bit, "She's... she's very different
from the others. She's not as cynical. She'd very accepting."

"Accepting, chief?"

"Accommodating, may be a better word," the blonde man closed his eyes,
"We'll see where it takes us. I'm moving towards Project Haul,
personally. Once the two prime targets return."

"Which one?"

"Either. Both have their merits... and their drawbacks. But both, I
feel, are preferable to a shootout like Mr. Chen... suggested. At
worst, we have that possibility to fall back on. Right, Kenji?"

"Sure thing," Kenji called back, "A kilo or two of C-4 and a face full
of frag should take out any of these people. Martial Artists
superpowers or not. Problem solved, eh?"

"Yeah," Adams voice hardened, "Problem solved."

***

Soun folded the letter in half between his fingers, and watched as the
world around him got steadily worse, and he did nothing. He the
solution... a solution, certainly, in his hand, but found himself far
more reluctant to use it than he had thought. A bright ray of sunshine
crossed his path as he walked past a broad windowon his home's second
floor. He darkened it for a half second while he passed, but his
thoughts lingered on that action until he came to the guest room.
Ranma, Genma and Ryouga had been sharing it, up until about two weeks
ago, shortly after the two boys got back from getting Nabiki and Akane
back, when they had left on a training trip. Genma had, in light of
the pampering he was receiving, decided to stay behind and sleep in
the dojo.

It was Natsume's and Kurumi's room now.

"Hello?" Soun knocked on the half open door, "Anyone in there?"

"Come on in, papa."

Pushing the door aside, he stepped in and saw Kurumi sitting at the
normally unused desk that the room hosted. It had been moved from the
corner where Ranma and Ganme had moved it to the window, in the light.
The place was clean, too, though Soun supposed that was mostly
Natsume's work. Kurumi was at the desk, reading something. He couldn't
see the title, but guessed it was schoolwork. Now that they'd found a
home, Kurumi especially was looking forward to attending school and
getting a formal education. Natsume was still concerned over getting
an official adoption into the Tendo family. Soun nervously fingered
the folded letter in his hand.

"Studying hard?"

He walked up to her, and looked down at the book on the desk.

"Hai, papa," Kurumi smiled brightly, "I can't wait to go to Furinkan,
just like Akane and Nabiki! It sounds so cool!"

Soun frowned a bit at that. Furinkan was a hassle, and he'd heard
about the Principal there. He was also considering the possibility of
sending Kurumi to St. Hebereke's Academy - it was an all girl's school
with reportedly an excellent athletics department, high-test scores,
and a relative minimum of school related mayhem. It was a private
school, but Kurumi could easily get in for free riding her athletics.
Still, all that was provided he kept them around.

He had send for a genetic test a while ago, to show once and for all
that he wasn't Kurumi or Natsume's father. He'd been right of course.
He may cheat at shogi, and he may skirt his martial artists' duties
once in a while, in his old age, but he did not outright lie, and
certainly not to his own children. It still troubled him that no one
had simply taken his word as truth. Why would he persist on hiding
something like that? He had been a pillar of faithfulness in marriage.
He hadn't even been with a woman since his beloved wife's death...

The genetic test only confirmed what he'd said. He wasn't even the
girls' uncle, or anything similar. It was what he had wanted, at the
time. Bring out the evidence, and the girls leave to keep wandering in
search of their father. Akane calms down, because she isn't threatened
anymore by Natsume's claims, or Kurumi's abilities. He even suspected
that the whole situation here was what drove Ryouga to do some random
wandering of his own, and it defiantly didn't encourage Ranma to stick
around the house either, when Ryouga apparently asked, off hand, if he
would like to come, too. It was good for them, Soun knew. Some time to
themselves to become true friends, which the elder Tendo sincerely
hoped they would be soon, just like he and Genma had gradually become
all those years ago. So, in a way, he'd really been looking forward
to, quite frankly, kicking the two pseudo-Tendo girls out.

"Is something wrong, papa?"

"No," Soun snapped back to attention, "Nothing really. I was just
checking up on you, seeing how things are going."

"Things are... very good," Kurumi leaned on one arm, and looked up at
him, "I'm kind of hungry, though."

Soun's expression softened.

"You're always hungry," he was tempted to say more, but chickened out,
"I tell you what, I'll go see if Kasumi has any snacks downstairs."

"Really?"

"Really," Soun gave a small wave, and headed for the door.

"Thanks, papa," there was a pause, "I love you."

Soun's whole body tensed up.

"Study hard, Kurumi-chan," he said, too quickly, and left.

Downstairs, Nabiki turned the page of her manga, and took a long drink
from a tall glass of lemonade. It had been a quiet day, downright dull
actually, except for teasing Kasumi for a little while, and thinking
of anti-Happosai measures she had plans for in the near future. In a
way, it was almost like it had been before Ranma showed up.

Routine.

The slamming of the door outside got the middle Tendo's attention.

"Hey, Akane," Nabiki gave her sister a long look, "Hard workout?"

"You have no idea," Akane winced, towel draped around her shoulders.

"You know... a friendly word of advice, for free, even," Nabiki
lowered her voice and Akane sat down opposite her, "Give yourself a
break. Daddy made it abundantly clear he doesn't want anyone fighting
over the school. Kurumi doesn't seem to care that much, by herself,
and Natsume only put the idea forward because she wants to prove
herself as indispensable to dad. This whole 'who will carry on' deal
is stupid, if you ask me."

"You don't understand because you're not a martial artist, Nabiki,"
Akane gripped the ends of the towel around her shoulders tightly,
"It's a matter of pride."

"You mean stubbornness? That does seem to be a trait you all share."

"That, too, maybe. Its... its one thing to be worse than Ranma or
Ryouga, or even Shampoo and Ukyou.... They're all truly dedicated to
the Art, but none of them are competition. I stopped being like them
years ago, after dad finished teaching me the School Techniques. I
just... I guess I got complacent. I thought I was the best out there.
Better than dad, even."

Nabiki didn't say anything.

"Yeah... I still don't know about that. I know I'm not the best,
Nabiki. I know I'm far from it. But that doesn't mean I'll just lay
over and do nothing, while someone else takes what's mine!"

"I guess I can kind of understand that," Nabiki said back, after a
time. Akane stood back up, as if to leave, but stopped before she left
the room.

"Hey," she called over her shoulder, "Do you have any idea when Ranma
is getting back?"

"You miss him?" Nabiki grinned at the thought. Akane seemed about to
yell 'no' simply on impulse. But then she looked around, and quickly
nodded.

"A little," she explained, "You miss Ryouga?"

"...A little," Nabiki went back to reading her manga, "They'll be back
when they're back. Hopefully they'll both be in one piece."

"They better not be fighting," Akane growled, shaking a fist, "They
made a promise..."

***
Somewhere in the wilds of Japan:

"Saotome! Those were MY raisins, you damn thief!"

"What? You expect me to eat the food Akane packed!? Even vultures
wouldn't touch that stuff!"

"That's it! The last straw!! DIIIEEEE!!!!!!"

***

"I'm sure they're behaving themselves," Nabiki felt an odd shiver down
her spine when she said it, but chalked it up to the slightly cold
breeze from outside. On the table, in a glass vase, Kasumi's flowers
shifted a bit in the wind.

***

1953 CE

Baiyankara Range.

Quinghai Province, People's Republic of China.

"My God... we actually found it... the old woman was right..."

"Chouchuanshan," Hsing Kung tipped back the rim of his Mao hat, "I
told you getting a hold of those old manuscripts would pay off, sir. I
told you!"

Bishop gave a short laugh, and patted his companion on the back.

"That you did, Hsing! It's the find, the discovery, of a lifetime. I
wish I could take more credit in it, but it was all you, Hsing. It was
your baby."

"Thank you, sir. But it couldn't have been done without your contacts,
your money, and your influence... This is our find, not just mine."

"Our find," Bishop nodded, facial features set in stone, "Our great
opportunity."

"Opportunity?" Hsing had never heard that word used in respect to
their quest for the Legendary Cursed Springs before.

"Opportunity," Bishop said again, "For Greatness."

"Greatness," Hsing repeated, "Yes, sir."

"Let's get down there," Bishop took one last long look down at the
mist shrouded valley, "I want to start documentation as soon as
possible."

"Absolutely," Hsing agreed, following the other man as they made their
way down a rough path descending into the place. He saw Bishop's
clenched left hand, for a second, before he went back to hiding it in
the folds of his parka. As they walked, the mist seemed to surround
them.

"Greatness," Bishop's ghostly voice echoed, "Our find..."

Greatness...

Greatness...

"Maybe you should go first, Hsing. You make a better guide than I...."

~The Present~

Hsing woke up with a start, clutching his chest. He was almost seventy
years old, and it was at times like this that he felt it. Checking the
clock in the living room, he realized that it was late, almost ten
o'clock. Still, he felt far wearier than he normally did, despite not
exactly being the most physically active of people. Slowly getting up
off the couch, and putting aside the magazine he'd been reading when
he dozed off, Hsing walked to one of the house's bathrooms, and washed
off his face. The cold water hocked him into a greater state of
alertness, but did nothing to subside the nagging doubts and thoughts
he'd been harboring for too long.

Then, the door rang.

"Plum? Plum?" he called out, "Plum?"

"I'll get it!" a voice called out, from up stairs.

"Good," Hsing slowly replied. The doorbell rang again, and this time,
Hsing greeted it with greater suspicion. No one in the area would wish
him ill, except the Phoenix people, who would likely just be content
to keep him out of the way and away from Jyusenkyou... but there was
still the chance of bandits or other unsavory folk coming by
unannounced. The Guide reached behind him, making sure his 9mm was
still there, just in case. He hadn't used it in a lifetime, but he'd
be damned if anyone or anything threatened his adopted daughter. Not
again...

As he got closer to the front door, he heard voices.

"My name is Mu Tzu. I... I didn't know there was a house so far out
here. I was wondering if I could stay for the night. I can pay..."

"Mu Tzu?" The Guide stepped forward, "Is that an Amazon name?"

"Yes, sir, it is," The boy's voice came from behind the door. If he
was an Amazon, it was a given that he could pretty easily tear any
regular door off its hinges, locked or not, or even smash through the
wall. This boy, however, had not. He was asking for permission, and
even willing to pay for a good night's sleep on an actual bed. Plum
was standing behind the door, looking through the peephole.

"He's by himself," she said, before the Guide could ask.

Hsing sniffed, then spoke, "All right. Let him in."

Plum did so, and the boy, Mu Tzu, stopped at the threshold, and took
off his shoes, which were dirty from walking. His robes weren't much
better. He looked like he'd been roughing it on the road for some
time, and hadn't been enjoying it one bit. He adjusted his thick
glasses, and gave a quick, small bow to Plum and him.

"Thank you... both of you."

"Hmm. So it is you... Plum, I will be having a talk with our guest. I
suspect he will want a warm bath when we are finished. Make sure Rouge
doesn't disturb us either, all right?"

"Sure."

Plum gave him an unsure look, but didn't pry. As the little girl
quickly headed upstairs, Hsing folded his arms behind his back and
motioned for Mousse to follow him. The younger boy did, and the Guide
led him into the house's lower living room.

"How do you like my home?" Hsing asked.

"Its very nice," Mousse took the polite route, "Three floors?"

"Four, actually. Including the attic and the basement."

"You didn't...?"

"Build it? No, of course not. Let's just say that I have a much higher
paying job than most would assume," The Guide smiled as a joke he
alone understood, "You should see the health plan."

Mousse scratched his head, missing it entirely.

"Please, sit," Hsing held out his hand, and the two men sat down
opposite each other, across the coffee table, "I'm no fool, Mu Tzu.
How did you really find this house?"

"It... it was on a map."

"A map? I find that unlikely."

Mousse licked his lips, before giving a resigned sigh. He reached into
his robes, and took out a large rolled piece of paper, then another,
and then another. Handing them over, he shied back in expected
disapproval.

"Understand that I didn't have a choice... those are copies of maps
that the Joketsuzoku have. It was the only way I could find what I
wanted... needed to know."

"I see," The Guide looked them over, in a cursory way.

"I've been on the road, and... on the run for over a week. I didn't
have anywhere else to turn or go. None of the Joketsuzoku aligned
tribes or villages would harbor me. And I don't dare approach the
Musk... I don't know whether I'd attack them first, or the other way
around... no, it wasn't any coincidence that I found this place."

The Guide looked up from the scrolls, and slowly rolled them up and
put them aside on the table.

"I'm sorry," Mousse continued, "I've probably brought nothing but
trouble..."

"I could say the same," Hsing cut him off, "Do you remember the last
time we saw each other?"

"Herb," Mousse snarled, "He kidnapped Ukyou... and knocked me out.
Stashed me away on the far side of the valley, too. Frankly, I'm
surprised he didn't dunk me in something horrible, or just kill me.
But I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth."

The Guide was about to tell him that he should, but turned to
something else.

"So you came here. Understandable. You want answers?"

"More than anything. I've... I've got nothing else."

The Guide leaned back on the couch, and took a deep sigh.

"You should have died, you know."

"Huh?"

"You should have died. If you and your friend hadn't shown up... Herb
would have been cursed, and you two would be on your way with the
cures for your curse. An exchange, almost. As it was, when things
didn't turn out like they were supposed to, I was supposed to finish
things.... Make you disappear."

Mousse tensed.

"Don't worry," Hsing assured him, "I didn't do it then, why would I
now?"

"Why were... who wanted me killed, anyway?"

"Do you know who I work for?"

"...No."

"You've heard of the Chouchuanshan... or perhaps I should use the
Japanese? You've heard of the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society, haven't
you?"

***

"Gentlemen," Bishop clasped his broad hands together, business cuffs
clapping together in a soft chime, "So nice to see you all again."

"I only wish we could say the same, Bishop."

"Indeed. Your recent activities have drawn more derision than
approval."

Nodding and assorted agreement came from the seven Society Elders.
Around them, only their guards, drawn from the ranks of the Muscle
Sword Clan, matched the tall growths of bamboo. The shadows of the
tall warriors cast down and almost obscured many of the short,
shriveled old men that made up the heart and soul of the Jyusenkyou
Preservation Society.

"Please," Bishop's eyes noted the positions of the guards, and that of
the large man next to him; sword held at the hip, "If the Council will
but ask, I will answer everything it desires, to the best of my
knowledge and ability."

"When we allowed you to open a business branch of our organization,
Bishop," a bald man gestured towards him, "It was with the expectation
that the moneys raised would go towards the general use of the Society
as a whole."

"Yes? Has that not been so?"

"Over the last few years, profits have been steadily decreasing.
Recent evidence actually indicates that your activities are operating
in the red... that you are diverting stockpiled funds kept for the
whole of the Society to cover your own expenditures."

Bishop smiled, "We are entering a period of... expansion."

***

"The Society... was founded shortly after the failure of the Boxer
Rebellion. At the time, it was under a separate name, and dedicated
itself to the rebirth of mysticism, ancient martial arts, and the
occult," Hsing paused to scratch his nose.

"The occult?" Mousse asked.

"Hidden Weapons, for example. Chinese Black Magic," The Guide gave a
wiry smile, "Things I'm sure you are familiar with first hand. However
it was a small and relatively insignificant group... I served some
time in the Korean War did you know that? No... of course not. How old
do I look?"

"Maybe... forty?"

"Try over seventy," the Guide laughed at that, "But that's another
story. Another tragic tale, I suppose... I served in the War with a
man from the USSR, who was there as a special observer from the
Soviets. His name was Bishop Verikov. Shortly after an accident... and
the end of the war, we became close friends. At least as close a
friend as Bishop ever allowed himself to have. I was a young man like
yourself, eager to see some of the world, and make my mark on it. I
had all the knowledge I'd thought I'd needed, and none of the
opportunity to show it off. Bishop gave me that opportunity... and I
found... we found Jyusenkyou."

He took a deep breath before continuing, "Or maybe Jyusenkyou found
us. Regardless, we became the first outsiders to set foot in that damn
valley in centuries. It was an archeological gold mine, but of course,
it had to be kept a secret. There was a great deal of power hidden
there, and Bishop and I knew better than to draw the attention of the
young People's Republic into the area. Instead, we... or more
specifically, he, gradually let the Preservation Society in on it, and
used their resources and local familiarity to bring his own people in.
He was patient... very patient, and content to handle financial
affairs, and open businesses relating to Jyusenkyou. He made a great
deal of money through legitimate means, both in direct sales of things
relating to Jyusenkyou, and through indirect sales to pharmaceutical
and paramilitary groups worldwide. You can perhaps also imagine how
much he made through alliances with criminal cartels, smugglers, and
organized crime..."

***

"We are a moral organization, Bishop! We enforce proper values... the
values of our ancestors. We cannot afford these... entanglements we
hear you've gotten us into."

"I completely understand," Bishop spread his arms wide, as if to
embrace them all, "However, I am involved in things. Research...
Development... that require a broad hand, so to speak."

"Additionally," another elder, a wrinkled bag of bones, cut in, "There
is the matter of this... this situation with the Musk and the Phoenix
and several other groups. You are funneling aid, in the form of food,
medicines, even metals and other essentials towards one group, towards
the Musk. You have, apparently, given them the idea that we, the
Council, approved of this. That they have the support of the Society,
when no such vote has been put before us, much less given the...
frankly slim... chance of passing."

    "Oh yes," Bishop's smile curved into a smirk, "You didn't get a
chance to vote on that little issue, did you? Oh well. Its kind of too
late now. ...Kiini?"

    "Yes?" the big man next to him said.

    "I think its time I leave," the half-Russian nodded to the man,
and turned his back.

    "Bishop! Bishop! You have not been dismissed!"

    "Get back here, Bishop! Guards!"

    To the surprise of the Elders, the Guards didn't move a muscle.

    "What... what's that sound?" the wrinkled bone bag looked up, as a
sudden and loud roar filled the air. Rising above the tall bamboo, a
helicopter, jet-black, descended to hovering just over the ground.
Bishop gave the assembled Elders a quick salute.

    "Gentlemen, it was a pleasure seeing all of you again. Kiini... If
you would do the honors?" he said, as he boarded the helicopter.

"Bishop! Just what the hell are you doing?! Bishop!!"

As the helicopter took off, the broad smile of Kiini was matched only
by the curve of his sword. With a loud 'click' every one of the Muscle
Sword guardsmen took out their blades. The grouped Elders, all
summoned in one place for their meeting, clustered together, almost
back to back.

"Wait... Kiini... stop... what are..."

"Kill them," the tall man said, voice bordering on mirthful, "Kill
them all."

***

"Why are you telling me this?"

The Guide seemed to consider that.

"Someone needs to know. Maybe I've just been holding this inside me
for too long. You can only pile so much guilt on a man's shoulders
before he collapses from it all. Besides, what did you say? Don't look
a gift horse in the mouth?"

"True enough, I guess."

"I work for him. We work for each other. You could say either. I
catalogued the Springs, that was the early work... getting their
histories in order was the difficult part. Bishop and I worked on
that, while he built up his influence. He wanted to secure our
position there, so that the Joketsuzoku or Musk or whoever wouldn't be
able to simply push us out or take our research. He and I had far too
much invested, too much work put into Jyusenkyou to let that happen.
Naturally, our worst enemies were to become the people of Phoenix
Mountain. They need Jyusenkyou to induce maturity in their god,
Saffron. Of course, he wasn't truly a god... he made himself one..."

"Saffron? I've heard..."

"You've heard nothing!" the Guide slowly composed himself, "You've
heard nothing that can describe him properly. He was terrible... the
caretaker responsible for rearing him had been a cruel and jealous
woman. The Musk were at their height, and some say she had some grudge
against them... she's dead, now. He killed her after he matured.
Saffron was as dark a soul as you could ever dread meeting. He crafted
the image of himself as a god, not just in title, but an actual god to
be worshiped and sacrificed to. He spread like a cancer, enslaving
those of his own people who doubted his actions... and he killed those
who spoke against him. Bishop and I both supported the coalition that
assembled to prevent his expansion into the surrounding province. The
Musk, the Amazons, the Seven Lucky Gods, and the young Society...
Saffron was eventually driven back, and 'killed' through the sacrifice
of the Musk King Herb."

"The Musk..." Mousse seemed to remember something.

"Yes, the Musk. You wanted to know who wanted you dead? The Society...
for seeing what you did. Bishop wanted Prince Herb cursed, preferable
with the female curse. He believed it would weaken his leadership in
the coming storm."

"That's it?!"

"That is enough," The Guide frowned, eyes half lidded, "That was more
than enough."

"So then the Musk... must have stolen the papers from the Joketsuzoku.
Because Herb... plans on attacking them next?"

"Right, and wrong. There are three sides to everything."

"I don't get it. What side is the Society on, if they support the
Musk, and yet try and double cross Herb at the same time? And... who
are the Musk? Really?"

"Those are two very long questions, Mu Tzu. I don't believe you're...
ready for them yet."

***

Bishop didn't stay to watch the slaughter.

There was little entertainment value in watching the deaths of a cabal
of withered and obsolete old men. They had always been nothing more
than a means to an end, and now that that end was nearly at hand, they
were no longer necessary. He had had some fun in toying with them, but
quickly grown tired of it. All that had mattered was that they were
all there, and that the guards present had been unquestioningly loyal
to him, and him alone. Such a thing came with surprising ease - the
old Elders engendered little respect and loyalty in this new age.

In the air-conditioned near silence of the helicopter, Bishop allowed
himself a simple smile. Things were proceeding excellently. The
Society was his and his alone, now. He controlled the finances, the
research, the projects divisions... he controlled the private army
he'd been building up for years, in secret, waiting for this moment to
strike. All his agents were in place among the respective parties. On
that thought, Bishop put on a headphone, and made a quick call. After
only a few rings, a female voice answered.

"Ah, my dear Lychee. How nice to hear from you."

"Papa?"

"Yep. Making a quick surprise call, you could say. Just checking in on
things. How's our little patsy coming along?"

"Well enough, papa. He'll go along with whatever Bishamonten and I
tell him. One little wave of the missing half of the scroll is usually
all it takes. I'd still rather hold off using one of our few remaining
surikomi eggs unless absolutely necessary."

"Very well. And the warship?"

"Finished refitting... almost, from what I've heard. They've installed
everything you wanted, including the failsafe device. I don't think it
will be necessary, however. Once Kirin and I are wed, you'll find him
especially malleable."

"I was just checking. I worry about you, you know."

"I know, papa. Don't worry. I have everything under control. You'll
know the moment when to move... if not from me, than from one of the
others."

"Good. Good... keep safe. I don't want to keep you..."

"Its mostly a very little social things. There's a new girl down with
the Musk, named Kuonji Ukyou... she's from Japan. I think she'll be
more than willing to work with us when the time comes, if only for the
chance to go home. She could be a powerful ally... she is close to
Prince Herb."

"Hmm," Bishop relented, "I trust your judgment of her character,
Lychee. Tread carefully."

"I do, papa. Talk to you later. BaiBai!"

With a click, she closed her cell phone. Taking off his headphones
with his good hand, Bishop Verikov... or Bishop Chen, depending on
whom you asked, gave a hearty laugh. Outside, and far below, the world
sped by.

***

Her name was Kiima, Captain of the Imperial Guard.

Kiima was the daughter of Tandorri, the last Great Caretaker. In her
youth, in her earliest memories, she had beheld the face of her King
and her God, and every night, before she closed her eyes, she saw that
face and every time was like a new epiphany. By her God's order, she
had been trained by the finest of Phoenix warriors, and given access
to all the mythical and mystical information and learning the Tribe
had unraveled and gleaned over lifetimes of work and conquest.

She was trained to fight and lead in equal measure, and to pave the
way for the resurrection of her lord God back to prominence. In her
time as Captain of the Guard, she had been accused of spoiling the
neonate Saffron, and exposing him to danger unnecessarily, but they
did not understand the proper reverence the Godchild was due. She
could not refuse his wishes, no matter how outrageous or inappropriate
they were. In addition, she secretly hoped to cultivate a more loving
Saffron, so that all could know the grace and majesty of his Rule and
his Word. For the last fifteen years, she had been the de facto ruler
of the Phoenix Tribe, through its Elite Guard, separated by a
generation from the cowards and sycophants that had surrendered their
dreams of Empire thirty years ago.

She was a woman of destiny.

She had great plans for the future, both of her people, and for the
world.

She had thought she was prepared for any eventuality.

She was wrong.

"What the hell do you mean we're being attacked?!"

"Mistress, we have several reports of a great airship advancing on the
Mountain. Old Phoenix Village is also being attacked... Several
patrols have already been whipped out!"

"An airship?!" Kiima's eyes widened, "The Lucky Gods! They dare to
attack us?!"

"Kiima!"

"Lord... Lord Saffron," Kiima spun around, at the approach of the
godchild, "You should not be outside of your quarters."

"I go where I wish to go," the boy stomped his foot, and waved the
ever present Kinjakan staff in her face, "What is this I hear of an
attack?"

"Nothing you need concern yourself with, my Lord."

"It had better not be," Saffron scowled, "Its interrupting my sleep."

"Return to bed, your majesty. I will take care of the fools who dare
to attack us."

"I expect to hear of it later, Kiima," Saffron gave her a hard glare
that, for a moment, reminded her of the face of the Old King. It also
sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

"Lieutenant!" she whirled on the young warrior who had brought her the
news in the first place, "Assemble every able bodied warrior!"

"Captain Kiima?"

"I want that airship intercepted before it can engage the Fortress
Defenses! They would not begin such an attack unless they had a way of
blasting through them first," Kiima drew her sword, "Now! To arms!"

Bishamonten looked through the binoculars, and smirked. Behind him,
Kirin stood, impatient. He was none too pleased with the entire
situation. He had never truly had the heart for true fighting such as
in war, and he truly disliked the idea of using the airship as a decoy
to draw the attention and ire of the Phoenix. However, Bishmonten and
the older Lucky Gods were anything if not for the destruction, or at
least containment, of the Phoenix Tribe. Bishamonten, especially,
seemed to hate them with a passion the Prince could not understand.

"Perhaps we should go below decks?" Lychee came up from behind Kirin,
and rubbed his shoulders, "My Prince?"

"Kirin has taken the Lucky Gods Clan into this conflict. He will see
it through."

"You sure?"

"Never more so," Kirin pivoted, and took her shoulders in his hands,
"You, however, must go. Understood?"

Lychee nodded, and gave him a deep kiss, before heading down.

"They're coming, just like Prince Herb planned," Bishamonten let the
binoculars rest on their strap around his neck, "Hundreds of them,
just in the first wave."

"Reverse the engines! Engage maneuver E-6!" Ebitan called out,
"Bishamonten, I shall handle the defense at the rear of the ship."

"Take care," the tall Lucky God nodded, once, to the shorter one, and
he was off. Ebiten had the unenviable job of keeping the ship's
maneuvers outside the range of the Phoenix Mountain defenses, and
preventing any flanking attacks from breaking through and damaging the
more vulnerable rear end f the ship. Bishamonten's job, however, was
an easy one.

Survive.

Hold off the enraged Bird People.

"Archers!" he yelled.

Behind him, nearly a hundred buckler-armed men from Togenkyou, bows
held at the ready, took positions in the middle of the ship. They were
organized into ten units of ten each, in firing positions to cover
nearly every approach to the deck of the ship.

"Guns!" Bishamonten roared, and he heard the satisfying click of armed
weapons along the sides of the massive vessel. They were recent
additions, courtesy of the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society: several
powerful .50 caliber machine guns, in armored swivel mounts along the
hull. Most importantly, there was the matter of the twin grenade
launchers mounted to the keel of the ship. They were the airship's
trump card, however.

"Stay in position! Hold where you stand, cover each other, and maybe
you'll live through this!"

The Lucky God of War and Defense ground his teeth together, and
watched the approaching swarm with something akin to relish. His
battle senses were kicking in, and he could feel the energy of his ki
creeping up his neck, along his arms, and into the base of his brain.
Every thought was becoming focused, every move like flowing water. The
binoculars were of no use, now - he could see all he needed to see
with his eyes. The skies were dark with enemies.

"Wait for it."

He didn't even have to think, the words came of their own accord. His
eyes darted through the hailstorm of Phoenix warriors, analyzing and
sensing on an instinctual basis. There were patterns to it.
Disciplined maneuvers he bore the responsibility to determine, expect,
and counter. There! Branching off from the right, heading up... no
doubt catching a powerful updraft he mentally noted for later. An
updraft would lead to an inclination for the winged freaks to attack,
and angle they would move towards given a choice.

They were operating in staggered V formations, mostly. On the edges,
groups of four were operating in schwarm formations, a tactic
introduced by the Old King Saffron in the last war, from lesions
gleaned in World War Two. Bishamonten was intimately familiar with
them, and the havoc they could cause, especially on stationary
defenses. It was a tactic the Phoenix King had used to great effect on
the dark day that was the Battle of Soryn...

The V formations would hit the front, drawing fire and swooping down
quickly, before circling for another attack, and then another, before
closing to melee, their javelins wreaking terrible injury on those
they target even before they got a chance for close combat. Behind
them, fast firing Phoenix archers and crossbowmen would rain
saturation down on their enemies, and when things became a melee, they
would close for more accurate supporting fire. Meanwhile, on the
flanks, the Phoenix warriors in schwarm would hit from behind in twos,
half attacking, half covering and harrying, hoping to cause chaos and
disorganization.

"Wait for it... Melee troops, at the ready!" he looked over his
shoulder, for an instant, to make sure that the Musk swordsmen were
ready to charge forward, supporting and leading their Togenkyou
cousins in the coming battle.

"Archers..." Bishamonten held up his hand, and heard the bowstrings of
a hundred eager fighters tense in anticipation, "Archers..."

Now.

Now!

NOW!!

"ARCHERS... FIRE! ...FIRE!!! Let the skies above rain STEEL and CRY
BLOOD!!"

***

Inside Phoenix Mountain

Herb paused.

"The battle has begun," he licked his dry lips, "Quick!"

The Musk Prince kept running, leading them up the long flight of
steps. Toma kept pace, his two ever-present bodyguards Toristan and
Wonton just behind him. Taking the rear, Ukyou and Mint covered them
and made up the rest of the tiny strike group Herb had chosen to
penetrate and cut into Phoenix Mountain. Their mission was to make
their way to the Imperial Sanctuary of the Phoenix King Saffron and
kidnap him. The Phoenix would diminish and exhaust themselves against
the Musk fortifications trying to get him back, weakening themselves
significantly in the process.

Or that was the plan.

"Faster! This is the way!"

Herb made a left when the path branched, without even thinking about
which was to go. The endless flight of steps seemed to go on forever,
and it was testing even a superior martial artist's endurance. Toma
and his group were tiring slightly, and though Herb and Mint didn't
show even small signs of fatigue, they slowed down to stay together.
There was a damn good chance that there'd be fighting involved when
they approached the top, and it wasn't wise to totally exhaust
themselves running p the steps.

"Prince Herb! How do you know the way, anyway?" Toristan asked, in
between breaths.

"This place... was once the Jusendo Observatory," Herb huffed, "A Musk
outpost."

"How did it...?"

"Bad things just have a way of happening," Herb directed them to a
quick right, and down a long hall, "Enough of past events... we have
precious little time."

Toristan had no more to say of it, but Ukyou could tell Herb was
hiding something. There was an almost... guilty tone to his voice,
beyond its evasiveness, that she couldn't quite pin down. Why would
Herb feel guilty? Was it that he really didn't like what he was going
to do, or already did? It was possible, but not likely. He'd never
hesitated to deride the Phoenix before, and his hatred of Saffron was
almost tangible at times. Then, there was a shout of surprise, and the
thick of battle crowed out all other thoughts.

Ukyou's battle spatula was out in a flash, as what could only be
described as... creatures, flocked out of doors towards them, wielding
spears and swords. They were like men, and women, except with brightly
colored wings sprouting from their shoulders, horrible clawed hands,
and talon-like feet. They made some sort of alarmed screeching howl
that filled the wide hall, and without realizing it, Ukyou took a few
frightened steps back. Mint jumped in front of her, just as a wave of
feathers filled the air. The young Musk's sword was moving at
impossible speed, intercepting the missiles before they could reach
her.

To her sides, Wonton, Toristan, and Toma surged forward. Wonton simply
plowed through the hailstorm of feathers, while Toristan's cloak
opened up, and he unleashed a wave of his own-feathered darts at the
enemy. Toma skidded to the side, sword drawn and, somehow, catching
fire. His feet barely left the ground, yet he moved with an
unbelievable grace and speed that belied his youth. While Wonton's
massive left arm smashed an unsuspecting Phoenix guard into the wall,
and Toristan took out his own wickedly curved blade, Toma claimed the
first victory of the day, driving his sword almost up to the hilt in
one of the enemy. The boy turned man stepped back, his sword slipping
out of flesh, blood slouching off its clean metal, with a surprised
look on his face.

Ukyou understood completely.

He'd never killed before.

The young Prince had practiced, and fought, and learned the
maneuvers... but he had never truly tasted blood, or snuffed out a
life by his own hand. She wondered if he realized how in over his head
they both were. Herb reacted instantly, pushing Toma aside while
another Pheonix warrior charged, spearhead ready to impale the young
man from Togenkyou. The Musk Prince was too fast, however, and in a
single motion yanked the weapon from the Birdman's hands and snapped
it in half.

Setting his feet apart, Herb's battle aura flexed, for only a second,
before settling back into his body. With a roar, electric ki erupted
from his arms into pulsing energy blades. Pouring more effort into it,
the jaded lines of ki snapped into place, forming deadly immaterial
blades.

"Hitou Ryu Zan Ha!!"

He thrust his hands forward and across his chest, and crescent waves
of bladed ki tore from his arms, and into two armored Phoenix
warriors. The first was hit in the chest, and had just managed to get
his arms forward to attempt a block. They were obviously at least
somewhat skilled in ki, because the creature only lost its arms, and
not its life, before it flew back against the wall, crumpled and
unconscious. The second was not as fortunate, and slid in half at the
waist, falling lifelessly to the ground, one arm twitching.

"Oh... oh my god," Ukyou gulped, tasting bile.

She'd never imagined... It'd be so red. So vividly red...

"Damn it," Herb cursed, and ran back to her, taking her roughly by the
shoulders, "Ukyou! Ukyou! Damn it woman! Control yourself! Are you a
warrior or a housewife?!"

"I'm... a warrior," she looked up from the ground, into his eyes,
still trying to hold herself together. One thought kept running
through her mind: Do Not Look. Look at anything else.

"My woman," he leaned in closer, talking softly into her left ear,
"I'm here. All right? Calm down."

"What am I..." Toma gasped.

"Silence!" Herb roared, and it was so, "Mint!"

"Yes, Lord Herb?" the ever present bodyguard stepped forward.

"Get Ukyou out of here. I'm entrusting you alone with her personal
safety. Rendezvous with Sumac and the others in the Old Village
below."

"But, Herb... I... I cannot just abandon..."

"You will do as I command, Mint!" Herb fixed him with a glare terrible
in its intensity, "Do as I say! NOW!"

"Y... yes," Mint gulped, grabbed Ukyou's arm, and headed back the way
they came.

"I know you will not fail me!" Herb called out to them, the quickly
turned to Toma, "Cousin..."

"Herb," Toma cringed, expecting to be chewed out for hesitating. He
just wasn't ready for...

"Cousin... Cover my back. I'm trusting you," he waited for the
Togenkyou Prince to nod affirmative, and then addressed Toristan and
Wonton, "You two, follow me. Stick close. It only gets worse from here
on."

***

Sumac always liked to think of himself as a little slice of hell on
earth when it came to fighting. Standing over his latest victim, the
bladed end of his polearm dug deeply in his defeated opponent's
abdomen, the elder wolf-Musk gave it a slight twist, evoking a scream
of pain from his prone target. Leaning over slightly, looking into the
man's eyes, Sumac smiled.

"I've always heard that gaping stomach wounds are the most painful...
horrible... way to die," with a soft laugh, Sumac drew back and pulled
the blade out of the beaten and bleeding Phoenix Warrior's gut, "Do me
a favor. When you get to hell, tell 'em Sumac sent you, ok?"

With a feral snarl, the wolf-blood turned to the greater melee all
around him. The entire Old Village was aflame, thanks to his
handpicked terror troops. He'd trained each and every one of them for
this moment. The support of the Togenkyou Auxiliaries and reserves was
just gravy. Not necessary, but not exactly unwanted either. It'd have
been nice if the airship could handle carrying a Division of heavy
assault Musk into battle here, but it would only have been overkill
anyway.

"Then again... I love overkill!" Sumac charged into the thick of the
remaining resistance fighting. It had greatly decreased, as those who
fought back died at the hands of Musk Steel, and those who could not
fight took to wing and tried to make their escape, running the
gauntlet of Togenkyou archers ordered to target anyone attempting to
flee the burning pyre that was the Old Phoenix Village.

Generations ago, this had been the original village where the peasants
had developed into the Phoenix Tribe, as a direct result of the
Jusendo Observatory and the Cursed Spring there. They drank the water,
and over time, took on birdlike traits. For a time, they had continued
to live in the village, before the First Saffron had organized
construction on the ruins of the freshly conquered Jusendo Observatory
and Phoenix Mountain. Over time, the Phenoix had tunneled into the
mountain, and made it their home and their fortress, but the
peasantry... they still worked the fields down below, like ungifted
'landlings.' So the Old village had survived into the present.

Until now.

Herb had given Sumac total authority to get as much attention from the
Phoenix Legions as possible in his attack on the place, allowing him
and his little cadre to work their way in and get to Saffron himself.
It was an opportunity Sumac had looked forward to with great relish
and anticipation. He was given a free hand to cause as much havoc and
destruction as he wanted... to splurge, so to speak.

And splurge he was.

Swinging his weapon in a great arc, he cut a weary and wounded Pheonix
man in half just above the second rib bone. The heavy, strong tempered
Musk Steel cut through even tough flesh, bone and sinew with ease, and
Sumac was hard pressed to find another target. His personal troops
were moving about like true predators, sniffing out and destroying any
opposition, or anything surviving, with terrible efficiency.

"Bah!" Sumac called out with a snarl, fighting back the urge to howl,
"This place is dead! Fall back! Let these scum bury their dead when
they get the courage to return to the ground!"

"Aye!" a chorus of voices returned from all around him.

Truthfully, the Phoenix warriors were no cowards. They had fallen back
to concentrate on driving the greater threat, the Lucky Gods airship,
back from Phoenix Mountain itself. Sumac knew that the airship was
only fighting a holding action, and that the full weight of the
Phoenix legions would force it to withdraw. When that time came, large
swaths of otherwise occupied enemies would descend down on Sumac's own
forces, overwhelming them with sheer numbers.

Then he heard it.

"Fall back," Sumac narrowed his eyes and looked up at the rising base
of Phoenix Mountain. Overhead, and obscured by the fire of the
village, something quietly ascended amid the chaos, going around to
the far side of the Mountain. Sumac would barely have given it any
attention, except that he knew what it was, where it was going, and
when it was going to make its entrance in the battle. He gave the
black silhouettes a quick two-fingered salute, before going back to
his troops.

"Go get 'em."

***

Japan

Deep in the Minami Alps, the air is still enough to hear a pine needle
fall to the earth. Or nearly so. There was silence aside from a few
small woodland birds, and the sound of the wind moving through endless
waves of branches, and lastly, the even, deep breathing of two martial
artists in training. Assorted gear lay around them in a relatively
neat fashion, and two packs rested meters away, each leaning against a
different tree.

In the center of it all, the two were like statues, motionless and
cross-legged, facing each other, one hand forward, one hand to the
side and in the air, curled into a fist. Only the slow intake of
breath from one signaled any evidence of life. His pigtail crept over
his shoulder blades as he let air in, but otherwise his body was
perfectly still, and his mind focused on his opponent entirely.

The other martial artist's right arm, drawn back as it was, tensed for
a second, before releasing the energy back into the body. The
bandanna'ed one was not quite ready, it seemed, and as his eyes
refocused on Ranma, searching for any signs of intent or weakness to
exploit, a single oversized canine poked out over his lower lip.
Smirking, Ryouga regarded the pigtailed man.

"Enough! I have you now, Saotome... You have no chance to survive."

"You're all talk, Hibiki. We all know whose winning this."

"I'll admit your record is impressive," Ryouga's fisted hand clenched
even tighter, "But I can read your moves perfectly now. Admit it! Your
power is nothing to me now!"

Ranma laughed.

"Ha! You fool! Did you truly think you had seen the extent of by
ability?!"

"What? Impossible!"

"Yes! You think your power is greater than mine, but I have been
hiding my own power! Until now! Now, I unleash it on you! Prepare
yourself, Hibiki!"

"Very well," Ryouga's hand shot forward, just as Ranma's did

"Die!!"

"Eat it!!"

...

"Rock beats scissors," Ryouga shook his fist for emphasis.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Ranma grumbled, "You win this round. I'm still
ahead by seven points."

"Again, then!"

"Yes!"

The two got back into position, one hand forward, one held back to
strike. Ranma opted for a slightly different version this time around,
and Ryouga noted it. He kept a mental inventory of his opponent's
posture, blood flow, breathing, muscle tension, and other
physiological factors his enhanced senses were able to glean at the
range they were from each other. The two warrior's respective battle
auras had been 'active' and subdued for nearly the entire day, and it
was beginning to get mentally taxing keeping it in check and under
control, while concentrating on determining Ranma's next move.

More important than simple observation was the cultivation of an
expanded version of a martial artist's natural ability to sense
approaching danger. Ryouga was well aware that Ranma had an excellent
sense of approaching danger, except when it came to Akane (or perhaps
he simply ignored it in those cases)... regardless, Saotome Ranma was
a difficult man to catch by surprise. Ryouga had always been a
halfhearted ambusher. He always liked the surprise and cunning of a
good ambush attack, but equally disliked the cowardice of it. It was
why he usually coupled a surprise attack with some sort of verbal
warning, to get the best of both worlds. Though, in reality, it was
more like a poor compromise.

His danger sense had become steadily similarly well developed over
time. Water related attacks and hazards still have him a hard time,
especially in Nerima, but most physical attacks he had a good chance
of 'feeling' before they got him. The sense had actually dulled
recently, as a result of his body hardening, and his creation of
reactive clothing in the form of the Tekimen Kongou Gishu. So
reawakening and improving on it had been one of his primary objectives
when he finally got time for a good, long, hard training trip to the
mountains.

Granted, using a game of 'Scissors, Paper, and Rock' wouldn't normally
fall under the category of eliciting a response from anyone's danger
sense, in practice, it did the trick, and was far less exhausting and
distracting than outright fighting. Already, he could feel his aura
and his ki reaching out, sufficing the air around them like an
invisible web. He could feel the buzzing of a fly, somewhere to his
right, like seeing something in the periphery of one's vision. His
eyes, his mind, his ki... all were centered on Ranma, now. Trying to
predict his next move, not just based on something as mundane as
visual cues, but an almost spiritual ability to predict.

He saw it for a heartbeat.

A flash, like a picture... but it went by too quickly to see, even
with the mind.

"Draw time, Saotome!" Ryouga finalized his own move, and snorted
loudly.

"Is that so?"

Ranma's own smug smile unnerved the bandanna'ed martial artist.

"Taste... my WRATH!!!"

...

"Paper."

"Paper."

"Damn it," Ryouga shook his head and pulled his hand back, "I was so
damn sure I had you that time."

"Score is still one hundred and fifty eight to one hundred and fifty
one."

"Do you know we've been at this for almost eight hours?"

"Hey," Ranma shrugged, "As long as I'm winning, I don't care. You
wanna quit now?"

"No! I'll beat you yet, you stinking raisin thief!"

"You're all talk," Ranma smirked and drew his hand back. Hibiki may be
all talk, but his training exercises were far from useless. Of course,
he'd have to stay at least a step or two ahead of Ryouga, given the
latter's more impressive physical prowess, but finesse with ki had
never been Ryouga's strength. He was more of a brute force type
person, in mind and in body. They were about to start another round
when ...something interrupted. It was like a sharp smell, horseradish
or something similar, and Ranma's concentration was thrown off.

"Did you feel that?" Ryouga asked, looking to the west.

"Yeah..." Ranma sniffed, clearing his nose, "Weird."

***

Saffron jumped up out of bed.

"Who dares...?"

The group of men advanced.

"Stay back," Saffron held forward the Kinjakan, "Guards! Kiima!
Madras! Kulcha!"

Behind the group, someone moved, letting out a low groan.

"Madras!" Saffron recognized the old man's voice well enough, "You'll
pay for this!!"

Spinning the Kinjakan, Saffron snapped the weapon back, letting the
disk shoot out in a blur. One of the cloaked men tried to block the
attack, and even grabbed the weapon, only to be carried off by it off
the Imperial balcony and down out of sight. Wielding the rest of the
staff, the boy king took a step back. In the distance, an explosion
sounded, and dark smoke wafted through the air. The lead man reached
into his cloak, and pulled out a weapon, rectangular... the others
were quick to follow, taking aim at the stunned Saffron.

"Wait... what are you...?"

The staccato ring of silenced gunfire cut him off.

**

    "DIE already!!!"

Herb's palms lowered, ghostly wisps of smoke wafting between his
fingers. His breathing was heavy, but the Musk Prince was uninjured,
aside from a small cut on his arm. Around him, crushed and burning
Phoenix warriors, members of Kiima's Elite Imperial Guard, collapsed
at his feet. The stench of burnt flesh was almost unbearable.
Resistance had increased dramatically as they got closer to Saffron;
much more than Herb had expected. Either the airship had been driven
off early, or the warriors in the Old Village had been driven back.

Which would make it much more difficult to escape, either way.

"You'll not get past me," Kiima threw aside the blasted and half
melted shield she had been holding, and brought her sword forward.

"Infuriating woman," Herb spat off to the side, and built up his ki
for another blast. He'd been fighting against this damn woman's
delaying action for too long, and reinforcements kept pouring down
from above in the massive cavern where Kiima had intercepted them.

Wonton was badly wounded, but continuing on, heedless of his own
injuries, and the hundreds of cuts and bleeding slashes he'd suffered.
The poor bastard even had four arrows buried in his chest and arms,
but steadfastly kept going. Toristan was slightly better off, because
he was quicker, and less prone to rushing bull-headed into the attack.
His sword was bloody, and his breathing erratic. His ever-present mask
was splashed with crimson, and cracked near the left side.

"Herb!" Toma jumped forward, the boy's clothes torn and ragged, but
his voice steady, "Go forward! I will deal with this woman! Toristan!
Wonton! Hold the bridge, no matter the cost!"

Herb gave the younger Prince a quick nod of thanks, flared his ki, and
took to the air. Kiima jumped to try and get to him, but a torrent of
'flame' from Prince Toma cut her short of her goal. Wings flapping
furiously, she turned around to try and reorient herself at the Musk
Prince.

"Thousand Wings of the Seabird!!"

"Enough!" Herb's hands glowed with power, as he twisted in midair,
"Dragon Spirit Flight!!"

As the Musk Prince moved, turning upwards, flaming ki spheres bounced
off the walls and from his hand into the incoming ki enhanced
feathers, taking them out one by one in a flurry of tiny immolating
explosions. In seconds, Herb had neutralized the entire attack, and
was nearly across to the other side of the cavern.

"I won't allow you to escape!" Kiima's wings spread for another
attack, when something hard and fast plowed into her back. Spinning
uncontrollably, she landed in a heap before collecting herself and
flipping up onto her feet. Staring at her with determination in his
eyes, Toma held his sword forward, flames lapping up all around him
like great tendrils.

"Worry about yourself," Toma ground his teeth together, "Worry about
ME!"

"Landling Boy," Kiima's own sword shot forward, "You can't even begin
to comprehend what I'm going to do to you for this."

As the two leaders clashed, blade on blade, Wonton bared his teeth,
and backhanded yet another attacking Phoenix warrior. Though stunned,
the birdman returned with a vengeance, and two of his comrades, short
swords and claws driving the large dog-man back. Wonton's open palms,
despite immensely thick skin, and two layers of toughened leather
armor, were little more than a bloody mess as he frantically parried
the attacks.

Toristan saw his comrade in trouble, but had little time to even
contemplate going to his aid. He was hard pressed simply to match
Kiima's Imperial Guards, and just barely pivoted out of the way as a
screeching female with viciously glowing eyes made a mad lunge at him
with a sword from the side. If they had come at them just a few at a
time it would be one thing, but as it was, he and Wonton were holding
off nearly six zealous guardsmen, just by themselves, while at the
same time looking out for arrows from above.

Unfortunately, Kiima and her cadre had caught them in the worst
possible place. They were fighting in what seemed to be a huge atrium,
crisscrossed by long wooden poles, which provided the only means of
crossing, short of flight. If they had been fighting in a hallway,
it'd be far easier. Worse, they couldn't even move around, jumping
from one pole to the other, without losing their way.

And where was his Prince?

"Damn it!" Toristan surged forward, overcoming the resistance of a
determined guardsmen's blade with brute strength, pushing her back and
away, "Prince Toma! Where are you?!"

"I have you now!" Toma back flipped away, and off the back of a
distracted bow-wielding Phoenix. He took to the air naturally, sword
gleaming in the half-light. Left hand forward, he concentrated, and
projected the image of a flurry of sword-like ki projectiles leaving
his palm.

"What?!" Kiima balked, and threw her wings forward, backing off and
firing her signature attack, "Thousand Wings of the Seabird!!"

Toma smirked, and saw that her attacks were trying to intercept his
own, except that his 'attack' was actually an illusion. Without
himself as the target, it was child's play to avoid the razor sharp
projectiles. Dodging and weaving amid the chaos caused by Kiima's
frantic attack, Toma spun into his own signature attack.

"Yogan Ran Digi Dan!!"

Toma thrust the illusion attack out with his sword, unleashing fiery
fury in a broad swath in front of him. Unfortunately, Kiima was quick,
damn quick, and avoiding the initial gout. Unleashing another one,
Toma flexed his ki, and teleported, up in the air, while unleashing
yet another wave of flame.

"Hold still, damn you!" he yelled, rapidly growing frustrated.

Toma barely had time to raise his sword to block, as Kiima rushed up
from below, aiming to cut him in half at the waist. The bird woman
then kicked up and out, catching the young warrior in the chin.
Already falling from his position, Toma only dully felt his back
impact something hard, which splintered beneath him. Opening his eyes,
and pushing off slightly, he managed another block, as Kiima crashed
down and into him at full speed. Sparks danced from their swords, but
Kiima's right knee hit home, and Toma spit blood as it buried into his
midriff.

With a creak and a groan, the wooden bridge beneath them finally gave
way and cracked down the middle. Leaning back, Toma hastily teleported
again, taking Kiima with him. Unfortunately, his teleport ability was
short range, and limited to places he well remembered, or could
visualize properly. Worse, it was taxing, and he could already feel
his ki reserves ebbing.

"Where the...?" Kiima looked around, disoriented. They were right
below the falling bridge, now, when before they had been on top of it.
Surprised, Kiima didn't have a chance to act, before her advantageous
position became quite the opposite. One half of the falling wooden
bridge plowed into her from behind, and as Toma rolled out from under
her in midair, he just barely had the time and opportunity to catch
hold of another bridge. Digging his nails into it, and holding on for
dear life, the Prince of Togenkyou climbed back up and onto his feet,
breathing heavily.

"Finally... Good riddance," Toma grunted, looking down into the pit
where Kiima had fallen.

"Now..."

He spun, as his danger sense flared. Not fast enough, however, the
sting of metal tore into his arm. High above, swarms of archers
descended, bows drawn. Silently, he cursed, and readied himself.

Herb rounded the corner at top speed. He was alone, now, and the
sounds of battle from behind had long since faded. He was just a blur,
now, flashing through the air faster than a normal person could follow
with their eyes. No matter. They could not have stopped him, anyway.
Abducting Saffron was out of the question now. Killing him, at least
for a while, would have to suffice. And though he was running the risk
of exhausting his ki, he had to turn back and help bet Toma and his
two men out. Abandoning them was totally out of the question.

"There! The door!" Herb's hands closed into fists, and with two quick
ki blasts, the heavy wood and iron doors were blasted off their
immense hinges. He flew through without pausing, and landed on the
Great Phoenix Throne Room. It was huge by any definition of the word,
but also empty. Small fires were busy consuming the drapes and the
royal carpeting...

And the bodies.

There were probably ten or twelve of them in all, most of them
probably female, and all burning fiercely. Had Saffron gone mad and
set fire to his harem and personal guard? What the hell was going on?
Shaking his head and clearing his thoughts, Herb dashed through the
burning curtains and silk, and into the young Saffron's bedroom
balcony. Searching, the Musk prince saw more burning bodies, and the
lit up remains of what was probably the godchild's bed and toys...

No Saffron.

"Where the hell are you, Saffron!? I, Prince Herb, son of King Herb,
Lord of the Musk, Blood of the Dragon, true son and heir to the Cursed
Springs, have returned to claim what is mine! Show yourself, you
perverse bastard! Show yourself, or be damned forever in the eyes of
our ancestors!!"

Herb breathing was in ragged gasps now.

Disappointment.

Surprise.

Anger.

"Damn you! I'll tear this place APART if I have to... to..."

Herb's anger danced around his body, his blood red aura blending into
the fires all around him. Eyes wide, the Musk Prince walked quickly to
a spot near the corner of the room, where a single staff lay, on the
ground. Herb recognized it instantly: the Kinjakan. It was one of two
legendary Musk staves crafted thousands of years ago, when the Hidden
Cursed Springs valley had been first discovered. It also functioned as
the 'hot' trigger for the source of the springs, in Lower Jusendo. Its
brother-staff, the Gekkaja, had the opposite effect, ensuring a
constant flow of cold water.

Picking up the staff, Herb saw blood on his fingers.

"What the hell?" the Musk Prince looked down, and saw the burnt
remains of what might have once been clothes... a child's clothes.
There were also small spots of blood underneath it, and a few on the
wall.

Growling, Herb held the Kinjakan firmly, and headed back the way he
came. Saffron was obviously not around, or had possibly been
betrayed... or... or something. Feeling his ki starting to dwindle,
Herb flipped the Kinjakan around, the rounded head to the ground, and
jumped on it. Tightening his hold on the handle, it took off like a
rocket. Twisting and turning, he came back out into the atrium, still
filled with the sounds of intense combat.

"Toma! Toristan! Wonton!" Herb grabbed the younger warrior as he
passed, turned around briefly to knock aside a Phoenix man, and give
Toristan a quick pickup. Spinning quickly, Herb looked around for the
last of Toma's bodyguards, and saw him limply fighting of two Phoenix,
still holding the bridge despite his wounds.

"Toma! Take the handles!" Herb directed him to the Kinjakan, and
jumped off, once again taking flight. Firing a trio of weak blasts to
scare off the two opportunistic Phoenix, he managed to try and wrap
one arm around Wonton's great girth. Arm straining, and ki falling
below acceptable levels, Herb pushed harder trying to keep up with
Toma and Toristan on the fast moving Kinjakan. Trying to ignore the
fire in his belly, and hoping that Toma knew the way to go, Herb
concentrated on simply keeping going.

The world around him just seemed like a blur.

After what seemed like an eternity, they crashed out of the lowest
levels of Phoenix Mountain, and into the cool natural air outside. The
next thing Herb remembered was crashing down, his energy totally
spent, onto the desk of the parked airship, miles from Phoenix
Mountain. The rendezvous point... his mind reminded him.

"Ukyou!"

He snapped awake, every muscle aflame from the effort of just sitting
upright. Next to him, he saw Wonton, but didn't give the man another
thought. Looking around the burnt and body strewn deck, arrows
sticking out of the hardwood like giant pins, he saw Bishamonten,
organizing the movement of the wounded, but passed him by. Then, Herb
saw something white: a bow, and a gleaming, clean, metallic surface.
Her weapon! The world around him seemed to disappear.

"Ukyou!" he found her, leaning against a large barrel, eyes bloodshot.
Amazingly, for the first time, she didn't put up any resistance when
he embraced her.

"Ukyou," he repeated, looking at her, then to Mint, who was, as
always, standing off to her side, "Is she?"

"Unharmed, my Prince," Mint was cleaning his sword, "As you wished
it."

"Good. Very good, Mint. You have done me proud," Herb went back to
Ukyou, "My stubborn woman... I told you..."

"I know," she said, softly, "I'm... I'm sorry... I..."

"Wonton?" Toma's voice cracked somewhere behind them. Herb and Ukyou
both looked, speechless, while the younger Prince shook his
bodyguard's still form, calling his name.

"Damn it, Wonton! Damn... damn it..." Toma's eyes screwed shut, and
with a violent swipe, he chased off the medic with the first aid kit
hounding him to look at his arm, which still had an arrow in it.
Crystal tears fell from his eyes as he fell to his knees, pounding on
the body. Behind his Prince, Toristan stood, his emotions hidden by
his cracked, but still serviceable mask.

"Wonton..." Toma trailed off, and with a shudder through his whole
body, stood up. Gradually, his eyes moved up from the ground to Herb,
and then to Ukyou.

"He held his ground," Toma's voice almost cracked again, but held, "He
held that bridge, Herb. We were outnumbered... overwhelmed, but we
held it. We held it. Next time... Next time... Don't send a woman to
do a man's job! You hear me, Herb? I don't know how many of my men
won't be returning to Togenkyou after today... but at least one...."

Wiping his eyes, Toma, Lord of Togenkyou, stormed off, followed
closely by Toristan. In Herb's arms, Ukyou started to cry. Holding her
tight, for once not caring who saw this side of him, weakness or not,
Herb closed his own eyes. All this... he had not expected...
anticipated any of this. What had happened? Where had things gone
astray? Was it all for nothing?

***

"Well, Doctor?"

"The Subject is quite a specimen, Mr. Bishop. The find of a
lifetime... We've gotten things from this subject that are even better
than what we obtained through Project Rouge. As per your orders, we've
catalogued all the measurements and put all the additional blood
samples on ice. I've been in conference with several associates of
mine in Japan and India in regards to the details. Frankly, I'm
surprised you came so quickly."

"Oh?"

"Yes, sir... I was expecting at least a few more days to perform
experiments. For example, the regeneration factor involved varies
along the life cycle. There are also numerous proteins and cellular
structures of note..."

"You have the samples, do you not, Doctor?"

The bearded doctor ran a hand through his sparsely woolen head.

"Yes," he finally answered, "Of course. But a test on the specimen
itself is much more fruitful..."

"I can imagine how much you must enjoy slicing and dicing the little
brat, Doctor Fukudome... but your research is only a side show. I have
been waiting for this moment for almost fifty years," Bishop gave a
wiry smile, and gestured to the thick glass cage where a small child
was soundlessly crying.

"Sir?"

"Saffron... the power of immortality... he's an uncontrollable
creature, you know. The Musk tried, and failed. You really think you
can do better than they?"

"I'm certain, sir. All I ask is a little more time..."

"No, Doctor. You will watch, and learn... here and now," Bishop
directed his attention to the man operating the atmospheric controls
for the cage.

"Cut off oxygen to the cage," Bishop crossed his arms, smugly, "That
will retard his regeneration cycle... once the infant has suffocated,
prep it for removal."

"Just what are you doing, Mr. Bishop?" Fukudome watched impassively as
oxygen was withdrawn from the cage, causing the partial pressure
readings to fluctuate to different levels.

"Hmm," Bishop licked his teeth, and gave a lazy look, "If you must
know... Saffron is a Child of Jyusenkyou. He is also a creature of
magic... Jyusenkyou's transforming effects meaning nothing, because it
is countered by his regeneration. His magic simply cancels out the
normal ability of Jyusenkyou to curse him, and in addition, it makes
him immortal... indestructible. You may contain Saffron, for a time,
but eventually he will rise again, like the legendary Phoenix. This...
is the dilemma. How can Saffron be controlled, since he cannot be
truly killed?"

The doctor shrunk in on himself, unsure.

"Such things are not my specialty..."

Bishop chuckled, "Of course not. You are a man of science. But I am
what you are, and what you are not. The Society is not the occult sect
it once was, but if I wanted a purely scientific institute, I could
have started one, couldn't I? Believe it or not, the Society's mystics
did have some insight... especially Basil."

"Basil, sir?"

"An exiled Musk of an ancient line. His bloodline... her bloodline had
been keeping the secrets of Jyusenkyou to itself for centuries. A
friend of mine, and myself, were able to gleam what we needed from
her, and I got the rest from the Society mystics, who had been
searching for Jyusenkyou themselves. There is a way to control
Saffron, Doctor. And now, I alone know of it."

The Doctors' eyes betrayed his skepticism. Taking off his business
suit and overcoat, Bishop laid them carefully aside, and snapped his
fingers. A woman in a black suit came to his side, quickly, with a
large glass of water. While Bishop undressed, another of his personal
aides opened a small packet, sprinkling dust into the glass. The first
woman then mixed it, careful not to spill any.

"Instant Cursed Spring," Bishop explained, handing the last of his
clothes to the Doctor, "Hold these, would you?"

Standing before the two women, he held out his hands. With a splash,
he shrunk down, his form distorting. The Doctor had seen it before, of
course, on test subjects in their labs. It was the Jyusenkyou effect,
the magical ability of the water to alter the basic ki-state of a
complex living organism. In animals, it caused what a layperson would
call a 'mutation,' and in plants, who usually absorbed the water from
a nearby spring, or spring source, it could cause unexpected growth,
huge size, strange poisons, or even aggressive 'meat eater' behavior.

With the water used up, the second woman in black kneeled down, and
picked up the large python. It seemed relaxed, and curled up in her
arms while she carried it. Doctor Fukudome hurried to follow them,
still carrying Bishop's clothes, while they walked into the next lab
down, where two sub-researchers were transporting the now suffocated
Saffron-child, which had reverted to its base line 'egg' form after
brain death.

"Mr... Mr. Bishop?" The doctor asked, as the two women directed the
egg placed on a small cushion on the floor. Then the one holding
Bishop-snake put him down, next to the egg.

"Wait a second... you can't do this... you have no idea what might
happen! You could be killed!"

The snake didn't pay him any heed, and struck at the egg with an
instinctive speed. It wasted no time in unhinging its jaw, and
swallowing it. There was a stunned silence in the lab, as the snake
worked against time. The two women aides checked their watches, and
nodded to each other. The woman that had held Bishop earlier reached
into her jacket pocket, and took out a canteen. On the floor, the
snake looked somewhat hurriedly at her, and received a shower of warm
water.

The water didn't work at first. Then, with a blinding flash, the
reptile's body began to bend and twist, as it reconfigured from the
inside out. The Jyusenkyou water was forcing him to metabolize, to
standardize the body so that it could be changed by the magic of the
water. But if the Saffron egg was being broken down into energy and
heat that could be absorbed by the body...

"Step back!" The Doctor yelled, just as another bright flash came from
the writhing form on the floor. And then, suddenly and without
warning, it erupted in flame.

"The sprinklers!" one of the women jumped up and twisted the sprinkler
head before cold water could explode from it. The researchers present
didn't hesitate to make their escape, as the burning mass on the floor
churned and turned paint white, like it'd been bleached a dozen times
over. Cold water kept raining down from unbroken sprinklers, while the
two women kept trying to bend any of them near the transformation.

"You idiots! Get out of there!!" The Doctor could feel the heat on his
face from whatever was going on, but the two women in black kept
working. Only when nearby equipment began to spark and steam rise from
the ground did they back off. The first jumped over what looked like a
white tendril, but the second tripped on something on the now
impossible to see floor, and disappeared, screaming, into the steam.

"Close the damn door!"

The second woman ran for it, but fell forward as something took her by
the ankle. The sound of her nails on the tile floor was the last sound
she made. With a whirr, the heavy lab door closed, locked, and vacuum
sealed itself. Through the thick glass window, the fire somehow grew
exponentially. Along the walls, more equipment sparked and melted in
the pyre.

"Temperature inside the room is in excess of 1000 degrees Kelvin and
rising!" one of the sub-researchers gasped, checking the temperature
gauge next to the door, "That window will shatter any second now!
Fused Silica can't handle that kind of heat!"

"Is Lab 2 temperature shielded to handle something like that?"

"I... I don't think so!"

"Damn it all! We don't have a choice!"

Fukudome started herding the three other scientists to the next Lab
down, through a small airlock. With a thunderous explosion, the door
between the last lab, and the one Bishop had been in gave way, thick
shards of half molten fused silica filling the air, heralding a wave
of fire and superheated air hot enough to melt a rock face. Fukudome
cringed, expecting the same type of window, and heavy airlock door,
that they were behind to give way.

But it held.

"Temperature ...dropping," a sub-researcher swallowed, "Let's hope..."

"Look!"

Fukudome pointed to the resin-glass window, his voice barely a
whisper, but still carrying clearly in the silence of the moment. The
other scientists clustered around the window, eyes wide. Amid the
still raging madness of the inferno, something was walking towards
them: a dark outline, a human figure, standing in the burning hell of
the destroyed Lab. In the blink of an eye, the flames were gone -
extinguished.

And the door opened.

"Gentlemen," the figure spoke, in a voice like far off thunder, both
hands flexing eagerly, "All things considered... I'd say things
couldn't have turned out more splendidly."

***

Miles away, in the Guide's House, a young woman woke up screaming.
Gasping, desperately trying to find her breath, Rouge looked down at
her still shaking hands.

"What's... what's happening to us?"

No answer was forthcoming.




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