The  characters  of the Ranma 1/2  universe  are  the
creation   and   possession  of  the  brilliant   Rumiko
Takahashi.  They  belong  to Rumiko  Takahashi  and  her
licensees   (Shogakukan   Inc.,   Kitty-Fuji   TV,   Viz
Communications   Inc.)  No  copyright  infringement   is
intended.


Many thanks to:
D-chan, for encouragement and invaluable time taken from
her own writing to pre-read for me.
Read D-chan's stories at:
http://www.geocities.com/ayongedarling/

And to Jiro Maeda for pre-reading and pointing out some
fundamental errors in my conception of Filipino fighting arts
among other things.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@


           Lure the Tiger from the Mountains


************************************************

************************************************
Chapter : 3
Yu gin gu Zong
(Snare the enemy by letting him go)


      "Tell me pop," Ranma asked sourly as he watched
Soun and Nabiki clear the center of the doujou. Akane was
off in the opposite corner, meditating or something while
Kasumi plated Akane's waist-length hair into a single heavy
braid. "are all your friends insane?"

      "Don't be sarcastic boy," Genma slapped his
ungrateful son on the head. "all you've got to do is----"

      "Beat the crap out of a girl." Ranma's face twisted in
disgust. Ripping someone off for a little cash was one thing,
but he didn't hit people who were helpless, and in his mind,
girls were right at the top of _that_ list, just behind babies,
old people and the feeble minded. "I am not going to do it
pop." Ranma hissed in the voice he saved for cons and other
serious matters.  "Let's just forget this scam and leave."

      "Now listen, boy," Genma dragged Ranma out the
doujou door, and away from prying ears. "you don't have a
choice. We _have_ to have a place to stay. Someplace where
no one would think to look for us."

      "That's anyplace that's not a bar." Ranma drawled
sarcastically.

      "Ungrateful whelp," Genma smacked him on the
head again. "Besides, you'll be doing her a favor by beating
her." Ranma looked a little skeptical at that. "Look boy, it's
better _you_ beat her now, than let her keep thinking she can
do martial arts and she gets into a fight with someone who
will _really_  hurt her." Sensing his son wavering he went for
the clincher. "You're the best there is, you can beat her
easily, _without_ really hurting her . . .can't you?"

      "Oh hell yeah," Ranma was insulted that Genma
would have any doubts. "but I'm not gonna hit a girl.
Specially not a cripple." He'd rather take his chances on the
road than do something like that. Beating up on someone
who couldn't fight back was like saying _he_ couldn't really
fight. That he was a fake. And he _wasn't_ a fake. Not at
this!

      "You don't have to _hit_, hit her," Genma argued
persuasively.

      "What th' heck is _that_ supposed to mean?"

      "She's a girl," Genma pontificated, as if revealing the
secrets of the universe. "she's probably done a little light
sparring, maybe won a few powder-puff contests, and now
she thinks she's a martial artist."

      Ranma's face cleared as the light began to dawn and
he grinned at his father.

      "So . . .you think I should _explain_ the difference
between sparring and fighting?"

      "Right, boy," Genma sensed victory. "All you have to
do is keep her from hitting you," Ranma snorted derisively at
the thought of anyone, especially a girl, laying a hand on him,
"and hit her a few times. Nothing hard," Genma hastened to
explain as Ranma's face clouded over again, "just enough to
get her attention. Maybe push her down a few times. Until
she realizes, until she's forced to _admit_, that you're
better."

      "Heh . . .I'm the _best_!" Ranma cracked his
knuckles. "That shouldn't take mor'n a minute or two."

*****
    *****

      Ten minutes later Ranma was revising his estimate
upward. Again. Shaking feeling into his hand he watched
Akane sink back into her modified Mountain-Bear stance.

       *Crap! Iron Belly Shang*, who would have thought
a nothin' girl from a nothin' little doujou would know
something like that. Or would have _trained_ herself  hard
enough to master the technique. He'd meant to tap her
lightly in the stomach, to knock a little of the fight out of her.
It felt like he'd punched a fire hydrate. He massaged his
fingers, out of sight behind his back, hoping Genma wouldn't
see and realize he'd been careless and hit without  being
focused.


        But he'd  been trying to "not hit, hit her", he
thought sarcastically, just like Genma had suggested.
He should have known better than to listen to his old man.
Moving more cautiously, Ranma circled his opponent,
looking for an opening.

      If this were a point match, Ranma would have
already won. It had taken about thirty seconds of taunting
slaps and a deliberately missed kick to her knee to establish
very clearly that Ranma could hit Akane whenever and
wherever he wanted to.  But this match needed a submission
or a KO to win. Ranma had thought a blow to her stomach
might scare her. Let her know what a real fight was like.

      Looking at the grim-faced girl in front of him, Ranma
didn't think she was too terribly afraid. Yet.

      Akane shuffled to keep Ranma in front of her, using
small sliding steps that were designed to keep him from using
a leg sweep. He thought momentarily about attacking her left
leg, the one with the knee brace, but dismissed the thought
immediately. It wasn't like he was _really_ fighting her. And
crippling his baby girl probably wouldn't win him any points
with old-man Tendou.

      Suddenly Ranma threw himself forward, caught
himself on his hands and spun his lower body around like a
cracking whip. The arrastao was a common maneuver in
Capoeira, but almost unknown outside that Brazilian martial
art. The unfamiliar move blew through Akane's defensive
stance like a shotgun blast through soggy tissue and she
slammed into the ground.

      Almost immediately Ranma  realized his mistake.
Akane might be  slow on her feet, but there was nothing
wrong with her reflexes. Almost at the instant she started to
fall, her left hand snapped out, grabbed Ranma's  leg  in a
Crane-Fist and twisted, as she tried to tear the muscle from
his calf.

      Pain ripped through his body, which reacted instantly
from thousands of hours of training.  With a choked off
scream Ranma jack-knifed forward, and slammed a Nine-
Dragon  Fire-Palm into Akane's chest, just below the heart.
He followed immediately with a reverse elbow strike and an
axe-hand to Akane's temple. Even as he was slamming
strikes to her body and head, his free leg kicked hard, as
Ranma arched his body back and away, tearing free of her
grip.

      Landing clumsily from his back flip, he automatically
crabbed to the right to put some distance between them, as
his conscious mind caught up with what he'd done and
wondered if he'd killed her. Panting heavily from shock and
favoring his injured leg, he watched, astounded, as Akane
regained her feet, slowly and with much less grace than
Ranma. But she showed little sign that his attack had any
effect.

      *Uh oh.* Either she really _hadn't_ been hurt by his
reflexive flurry of full power strikes, or she could hide her
pain even from his trained senses.  He wasn't sure which
worried him more.

      "Break!" Soun called, to his relief.  Genma's  brilliant
plan to put Akane in  her place was working---- about as
well as his plan to sell oil leases in Red Square. That
particular scheme had bought them box seats at a hanging.
Their own. Only the fact that Genma was so slick a shadow
wouldn't stick to him and so smooth he could sell birth-
control to a eunuch had kept them from being crow-food.

      The Tendou patriarch walked slowly over to Ranma
and examined him, paying particular attention to his right leg.
He then went to his daughter, repeating the process, with
particular attention to her head, carefully probing the scalp
with gentle fingers.

      "Can you continue the fight," he directed this
question to Ranma.

      "Uhhhh . . .yes?" Ranma answered, not sure what
Tendou-san wanted to hear and deciding on the truth.

      "Can you continue?" This directed toward his
daughter, who answered with a short nod, never taking her
eyes off Ranma.  It reminded Ranma of the time in Kolhapur,
India, when he'd been running from some villagers under the
impression that Genma owed them three hundred thousand
Rupee. While fleeing for his life he'd stumbled across an old
mossy-back water-buffalo with one calf and no sense of
humor. The buffalo had the same look in her eye then, that
the youngest Tendou did now, just before the buffalo tried to
unzip him from crotch to clavicle. Looking into Akane's eyes
he wished he were back in the field with the buffalo.

      Soun looked between his daughter and his
prospective son-in-law, a thoughtful expression on his face.

      "I declare this match a draw."

      "What!" Akane looked at her father in disbelief. "I'm
not hurt. I can still----"

      "Whether you are hurt is not the issue." Soun began.

      "It's not fair!" Akane raged. "I'm not going to----"

      "Be . . .silent." Soun spoke sternly and Akane's
mouth snapped shut, a hurt look passing briefly across her
face. "You will marry when I say, and to whom I say!" Soun
grated, pain wenching his heart at the look on his daughters
face. But he _had_ to protect her, from herself as much as
from the world. "You will obey me . . .or leave my house."

      *oh crap* Ranma thought, watching Akane's face
close up. As a martial artist (and son of a chronic drunk)
he'd learned to read body language very well indeed. And,
unless someone did something, in about half a second Akane
was going throw Soun's threat back in his face and walk out
the door with nothing but the clothes on her back. And
Saotome (girl-beater) Ranma and Saotome (home-wrecker)
Genma would follow about three seconds later.

      "Great fight, Tendou-san." Ranma interrupted,
slipping between father and daughter, bowing to Akane. "I
gotta admit, I think I'm pretty lucky to get a draw out of this
match." He held out his hand, smiling his best naughty-little-
boy-smile, guaranteed to reduce the average female heart to
mush.

      Akane's heart was apparently un-mushable, as she
stepped away from him,  a look of contempt on her face.

      "Liar."

      "What?" Ranma was offended. That was one of his
very best smiles. Honest, charming, sincere ----Genma had
made him practice it in front of a mirror for hours until he
got it right. "What d'you mean by that?" His gracious, well
modulated tone slipped a bit.

      "You weren't fighting me for real." Her glare should
have struck him dead. "You were just _playing_," she spat,
trembling with rage. "You don't take me serious----"

      Ranma grabbed her by the arm, shutting her mouth
with shock as he dragged her toward the door. "Excuse me."
He muttered to Soun, in passing.

      "What the hell do you think you are doing!" Akane
jerked free of Ranma's grip. "Keep your hands off me, you
clown!"

      "Clown?" Ranma was insulted by the injustice of it
all.  He was trying to keep the stupid girl from saying
something she would regret. Something he'd regret too, if
she queered his and pop's scam. Fortunately, traveling with
Genma had given him plenty of practice in pouring oil on
troubled waters.

      "I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot." he
began, smiling his best 'no hard feeling's smile', adding just a
little dimple to show his sincerity as he extended his hand.

      "The only wrong foot, was when you deliberately
missed with that snap-kick, you faker! I'm not going to
marry someone who treats the ryuu like a joke!"

      Dammit. Try to do someone a favor---- "Like I'd
wanna marry a shrew like you." The oil he'd been pouring,
suddenly ignited.

      "Shrew? Shrew!" Akane growled. "I'm a shrew
because I call you a liar, a fake. Probably a pervert too!" she
knocked his hand away.

      "Pervert!" Ranma was astounded. Normally women
called him things like 'darling' or 'stallion' or 'honey cake',
while he was doing things to them that would make a Hong
Kong whore blush. But _Pervert_? For trying to shake
hands?

      "Hey, I had my hands all over you in there," he
jerked a thumb back toward the doujou, "was _that_
perverted?"

      "That was different,"Akane huffed, "we were
fighting."

      "Man, that's just stupid. You mean unless a guy is
tryin' to beat your brains out he's perverted if he touches
you?" This was scary. She was starting to make his old-man
look _normal_.


      "OH," Akane stamped her foot, but Ranma yanked
his  out of the way in time to keep his instep from being
crushed.. "So _now_ I'm stupid!"

      "No, you're stupid now," Akane started to relax
slightly. "you must have _always_ been stupid, 'cause to do
the dumb stuff you do takes practice."

      "You JERK!" Akane's eyes flashed in fury and her
hands flashed towards his collar, the intention to strangle him
clear.

      Ranma was faster, trapping both of her hands in one
of his.

      *Her wrists . . .they're so tiny* He thought, amazed
at how little and helpless she felt in his grip.  A sudden and
unaccustomed surge of protectiveness welled up in him.
Which was probably why he didn't sense the pile-driver knee
rocketing toward his groin, until it was almost too late. At
the last instant preternaturally quick reflexes allowed him to
take the hit on his thigh. His leg collapsed under a blow that
would have destroyed the future of the  Saotome clan, and
he went down, taking Akane with him, to land in a tangle in
the yard.

      "I thought you said you were too young," Nabiki
commented evilly as she sauntered out into the dusk, mildly
lamenting the fact she didn't own a camera.

      "Ah . . .young love," Genma rhapsodized from the
door of the doujou.

      "You can be married tomorrow afternoon." Soun
offered, hoping Akane would still be dazed from her fall.

      "Married!" Akane pushed angrily at Ranma. "Get
_off_ me, you big jerk!"


      "Hey!" Ranma batted at Akane's flailing fists which
were beating him into the ground. "In case you didn't notice,
you are on top of _me_!"

      "That's right," she ignored his "oof" of pain when
she stepped on his stomach on her way up. "blame _me_ for
you clumsiness!"

      ""I am NOT clumsy!"

      "And I'm NOT marrying you!"

      "Who would want to?" Ranma shouted, forgetting
the purpose of their being at the Tendou's. "You crazy ----"


      "What my son means," Genma said smoothly, subtly
kicking Ranma on the shin to shut him up, "is that a man
would have to be crazy not to want to marry you."

      Ranma rolled his eyes. No one in their right mind
would believe that corny----

      "Oh Saotome," Soun turned to Genma. "What a
beautiful sentiment."

      He was right. All of his fathers friends _were_ insane.

      "Thank you Tendou."

      "And so beautifully expressed."

      "I've often thought I should have been a poet."

      "Akane," Soun turned to face his daughter, "don't
you see why Ranma would make you such a good husband?
For the father is the mirror of the son, . . ."

      *Oh, _that's_ a big help daddy.* Nabiki thought
sarcastically.  Ranma was suddenly looking _much_ less
attractive.  Bad enough to have Genma for an in-law. The
thought that Ranma would _become_ Genma----a slight
shudder ran through her.

      " . . .as the father is, so the son will be." Soun
finished, looking at Genma and seeing his friend as he'd been
a decade earlier.

      Kasumi felt a trifle nauseated. It would be a sin to let
that beautiful boy grow up to be like that . . .that . .oaf. It
was possible his nature had already been warped by living
with Genma all those years, but perhaps the right woman
could re-shape him. She looked over at Genma. Perhaps not.

      Akane had limped back into the doujou while Soun
was speaking and ripped a tanto off the wall.

      "Akane . . .Akane dear," Kasumi said worriedly as
she noticed Akane's actions. She made a tentative move
toward her sister.  "I've got some tea brewing. And some of
those sweet biscuits you like so much."

      *Oh hell* Ranma quickly reviewed his repertoire  of
disarming procedures and hoped there was a good hospital
nearby . . .for both of them. It always looked so easy in the
movies. But unarmed against a knife? That was a sucker's
game, unless you were fast and ruthless. And lucky.
Ranma was a big believer in luck.  It was always bad, unless
you were dealing the cards from your own deck. Rule of the
road Forty-seven: *Luck flows to the man who doesn't need
to win.*

       He could break her arm, while she punched a hole
through is heart or carved him a new smile in the same
amount of time. The Saotome-Final-Technique had been
developed for _just_ this sort of situation. . . . Rule eighteen,
*He who runs away----lives* Fighting another day was
strictly optional.

      "Akane?" Soun's eyes got wide as he saw the blade
in his daughter's hand. "Now Akane, you don't want to do
any---- "

      The blade flashed and everyone jumped, as the long,
thick braid flowing down her back leapt into her hand.

      "This is what I think of marriage to _you_!" She spat,
throwing the rope of midnight black hair to the ground at
Ranma's feet then stalking away.

      Women sometimes cut their hair at the death of a
husband or lover, a token they would never take another
man. It was also a symbolic suicide, that indicated war to the
death and no quarter.

      Ranma wondered if it was too late to become a
monk. There was this little monastery in Tibet that had been
abandoned since 1366 . . .

      "Well," Genma said jovially. "That went well."

              "Stupid old man!"

      "Owww!" The man in question rubbed the back of
his head.

      "Kasumi?" Nabiki stared bug-eyed at her sister who
was rubbing her hand and wincing in pain.

************************************************

Chapter: 4
Yuan jiao jin gong
(Befriend a distant state while attacking a neighbor)


      "Ranma?" Kasumi knocked softly on the guest room
door the next morning. "Ranma . . .chan?" She tried,
daringly. He _had_ asked her to call him Ranma, and he
_was_ younger. It was perfectly proper, so there was no real
reason for her to blush.

      Quietly she opened the door, and realized why no
one had answered her knock. Uncle Genma (as she'd been
instructed to call him) was sprawled on his back across two
futons, his wide-open mouth emitting a noise that reminded
her of the time a naughty little boy had put two tom-cats and
a small dog in a dryer at the coin laundry.

      She'd put up a clothes-line the next day.

      Kasumi frowned slightly. If the oaf . . .Uncle Genma
was using both futons . . .where was Ranma? She scanned
the room, discovering a lumpy bundle of blankets in the
corner farthest from Genma, one bare shoulder and arm
sticking out.

       She made a mental note to see about putting up a
screen. That might cut down on the noise on his side of the
room.  And she'd better find another futon so he didn't have
to sleep on the floor. Walking softly across the floor the bent
down next to him.

      "Ranma?" She reached out to shake him awake.
"Ranma, it's time to geeeeeeeep!" Kasumi tumbled
backward as Rama erupted from the floor like a panther, one
powerful arm grabbing her own in a joint lock, while the
other flashed toward the vulnerable hollow of her throat.
When nothing more happened, Kasumi forced her tightly
shut eyes open, to see a broad tanned expanse of chest.

      *Pectoralis major. A large, fan-shaped muscle that
covers much of the front upper chest.* her professors voice
droned in her head. *Its main use is in moving the arm across
the body* She knew the function, but no one had ever told
her how _beautiful_ it was. How it moved and glided below
a covering of smooth, warm skin.

      *Latissimus Dorsi, Rectus Abdominis* she traced the
path of each muscle, envisioning their function, the
associated nerves and blood vessels. *external abdominal
oblique, tensor fasciae latae . . .* My goodness, martial
artists certainly had wonderful definition. *gluteus maximus.
The strongest muscle in the body and covers a large part of
the----*

      "Ummmm . . .Kasumi?" Ranma's voice squeaked a
little. "W . . .what're you doin'?"

      *----buttock*

      Oh . . ! Kasumi jerked her wandering hand away,
blushing furiously.

      "Uhhhh . . .sorry about that." Ranma said sheepishly.
"Ya gotta be careful 'bout waking me up. Th' old man jumps
out and hit me with sticks and stuff, ta train me to be alert,
even if I'm eatin' or slepin' or using th' cra . . .errrr . . .no
matter what I'm doin'."

      "I see." And she did, his blanket having fallen to the
floor. "Well, I just wanted to tell you that breakfast will be
ready in about thirty minutes. And the furo is free, if you
want to wash first."

      "Geee, thanks Kasumi. I'll be down in a minute." He
flashed her a boyish grin as he helped her to her feet.
"Uhhhh, sorry 'bout almost clobberin' you."

      "It's not a problem, Ranma. I've grown up around
martial artists." Smiling to show there were no hard feelings,
she bowed and left the room.


******
     ******

      "Kasumi?" Nabiki paused stirring the miso soup and
made a quick check on the rice. Perfect, nice and sticky.
"Are the others coming down?"

      "I just stopped to tell Ranma about breakfast."

      "And?" Nabiki looked critically at the fish to see how
it was cooking.  Then she checked to see if every thing else
was ready . . .raw eggs to break over the rice, pickled plums
  . . . where was the kombu? Cooking was her least favorite
thing, next to a root canal. But if she _had_ to do something,
she wanted to do it well.

      "He has dimples."

      Nabiki was only half listening, more interested in
finding the little jar of black-kelp jam. "Yeah, I noticed them
yesterday when he smiled."

      "Not these you didn't." Kasumi murmured, plucking
the jam-jar from where it was hidden behind a large can of
protein-powder.  Kasumi grimaced a little at seeing that,
thankful that it hadn't been Akane's turn in the kitchen when
they had guests. If she _ever_ found the sadistic  fiend who
had told her defenseless baby-sister about "health food", she
was going to beat them unconscious with a package of
organically grown artichokes.

      "Huh?" Nabiki took the jam from Kasumi with a nod
of thanks.

      "I said that perhaps we should buy an alarm clock for
Ranma."

      "I can wake him up in the mornings," Nabiki offered,
adding a pinch of seasoning to the soup.

      "No . . ." Kasumi felt her face heat, "I think an alarm
clock is more practical."

******
    ******

      " -----his butt?" Nabiki's voice went up a notch as
Kasumi described her mornings adventures as they walked
toward Fuurinkan.

      "What're you guys talkin' about?" Ranma called over
his shoulder from his position atop a fence.

      "N . . .nothing!" Nabiki looked at Ranma, then at her
sister, breaking out in a fit of giggles. "J . . .just girl talk."

      "Huh," Ranma lost interest. "Why do I hafta go to
school, anyway?" He decided to bring up another grievance.

      "Because it's the law," Kasumi answered calmly,
feeling her face heat again as Nabiki winked at her,"and
because it will be good for you to make new friends." And
get you away from "Uncle" Genma, she thought.

      "I'm a martial artist," he did a flip and started
walking backwards along the fence top. "I don't need this
sissy stuff."

      "Well, we'll see----" Kasumi started to say.

      "Hark . . .the Beautiful-Angel-of-the-Morning, the
Light-that-Warms-the-World," a figure clad in the style of a
Saxon Warrior of five centuries earlier sprang from a side
street. "how the common detritus of this sad world is uplifted
by your presence."

      "Who th' hell is that?" Ranma demanded, leaping
from the fence to put himself between the Tendou sisters and
the raving lunatic.

      "Common Detritus," Nabiki gestured at Ranma,
"meet the Velvet Avenger." She indicated the silk and leather
clad figure.

      "Nay, you have it not aright," the figure bounded
over Ranma's head to land in front of Kasumi. "For the
vision of an Angel hath revealed to me mine new name----"
With a flourish an enormous bouquet of roses, a brilliant
cobalt blue in colour, appeared in one gloved hand. "For you
. . .a trifling token of natures bounty in appreciation of your
own sterling beauty, from the hand of . . .," the figure paused
dramatically, "Samurai-kamen, of Saint Hebereke's Academy
for Young Ladies of Refinement!"

      "Ummmm . . ." Kasumi took the flowers, gingerly
because of the rows of jagged thorns. "Thank you. They're
beautiful." She smiled and the figure staggered back, a mass
of silken hair tumbling from underneath an elaborately styled
headpiece.

      "Uhhhh . . .that's a girl . . .ain't it?" Ranma's eyes
darted back and forth between Kasumi and the newcomer.

      "Kasumi-sama, your regard fills me with the strength
of righteousness and purity.  Once again I dedicate myself to
your service."

      "That's nice, Kodachi-san" Kasumi began,
"but----"

      "Give me a quest," Kodachi went down on one knee,
drawing a European-style hand-and-a-half sword and driving
it point first into the ground and pressing her forehead
against the cross-shaped guard. "a deed worthy of your
magnificence. A dragon to slay, treasure to find. You have
but to command and I will do it, for you!"

      "Kodachi-san, don't you have to be in class, soon?"

      "Class?" The slender young woman leapt to her feet,
striking a pose with her sword held high above her head.
"You have class at the University, do you not?"

      At Kasumi's hesitant nod, the other girl whirled, cape
billowing like a scarlet cloud. "Sasuki! Attend me!"

      With a sound like distant thunder, eight thousand
pounds of Bugatti Royale Coup� Napoleon heaved itself
around a corner, like some prehistoric monster released from
it's aeons long slumber, Kodachi's faithful ninja, in a turn-of-
the-century chauffeur's uniform, at the wheel.

      "Allow me to transport you to the gateway of
learning that you have deigned to grace with your infinite
wisdom."

      "Oh, go ahead Kasumi," Nabiki urged, "Ranma and I
are old enough to walk to school by ourselves.  And this will
save you having to take the bus."

      With the beatific smile of Galahad upon finding the
Grail (while Kasumi's expression more nearly resembled a
martyr who's gotten the wrack _and_ a burning stake)
Kunou Kodachi held the door for Kasumi, then slid in after
her, becoming only slightly tangled in her sword and cape.

      "What the heck is up with her?" Ranma stared after
the huge creme and gold monstrosity as it lumbered down
the street.

      "Ummm . . .that's kind of hard to say," Nabiki picked
up her book bag and started back on her way to school.
"Some people think that her nanny used to play otedama
with her, using  Kodachi as the beanbag." Nabiki grinned at
Ranma. "Of more immediate interest . . .somebody gave her
a copy of Morte de Arthur . . .King Arthur and the Knights
of the Round Table," she elaborated at Ranma's blank
expression. "At any rate, Kodachi decided she was the
reincarnation of Sir Gawain and she's dedicated her life to
noble quests, deeds of knightly daring, courtly love and
saving damosels in distress. Kasumi being her distressed
damosel of choice."

      "That's the craziest thing I've ever heard of!"

      "You haven't met Tatewaki yet," Nabiki muttered.

      "Huh?" Ranma turned back from watching the
Bugatti vanish around a corner. "What did you say?"

      "I said, we should be running into Akane anytime
now."

      "What? Where?" Ranma spun around, hands coming
up in a defensive position.

      "Relax."

      "Relax? How can I relax around that psycho chick
ummm . . ." Ranma blushed, realizing he was talking to the
psycho chick's sister. "What I mean is . . .uhhhh . . ."

      "Don't worry," Nabiki elbowed him in the side,
grinning. "I know what you mean. Akane's got a little bit of
a temper."

      Ranma bit back a retort that would have gotten his
face slapped in any well run whore-house this side of
Bangcock.

      "But she doesn't mean anything serious, unless,"
Nabiki caught herself . "Ummm . . .daddy used to tell her a
lot of the old stories about samurai, duty, honor, that sort of
thing. It, uhhh, made a big impression on her. And the ryuu,
the doujou, mean a lot to her."

      "Yeah? Well . . ." Ranma trailed off, unable to come
up with a good counter. "Marital arts meant a lot to me,
too." Freezing in winter, broiling in summer, he thought.
Blistered feet, empty belly and running from the law.
Training until you threw up and passed out----then starting
over again.  And pits. Dark holes that smelled of damp
moldy earth and were filled  with-----! His stomach cramped
painfully as he fought not to vomit.

      "And Akane?" Nabiki looked slyly at him,
misinterpreting his sudden pallor and flush.

      "Uhhhhh" He fought back the memories, hoping
Nabiki hadn't noticed anything. " Well, I don't really know
Akane," *Except that she's a certified whacko*, he thought
recalling the tanto and the rope of hair she'd thrown at his
feet.  It had been  soft and real sweet smelling . . .he shook
off that line of thought. "And I guess I don't know what to
think about the doujou, either. This is all kind of a surprise to
me."

      He affected his best 'aw-shucks-ma'm-I'm-just-a-
simple-but-honest-country-boy' expression.  Perfecting that
look that had cost him a few dozen strokes with a rattan cane
before Genma was satisfied. He watched Nabiki's eyes go
soft and knew the effort had been worth it. It was too bad it
wasn't Nabiki that came with the doujou.

      "Hey! Akane! Wait up."

      Ranma jerked out of a pleasant daydream ( where
Nabiki was stroking his brow while Kasumi fed him little
tidbits) and looked in the direction Nabiki was shouting.

      "What the . . .?"  They'd turned a corner and just
ahead of them was a grotesque looking hunch-back dwarf
with stubby legs, enormously long arms, an impossibly thin
neck. And no head! Then his brain reprocessed what he was
seeing.

      "Why is she walking on her hands?"

      "Why don't you ask her?"

      "Builds upper body strength." Akane answered,
before Ranma could say anything else. She twisted her head
to look up at her sister and Ranma, showing the fist-sized
lump on her head from last night's sparring. "Where's
Kasumi?"

      "She got a ride with Kodachi."

      "Oh boy," Akane flipped upright, landing just a bit
awkwardly Ranma noticed. The walking stick "neck"
strapped to her book-bag "hunch" wobbled just a bit. "We're
not going to have to go on a quest, are we?"

      "Quest?" Ranma looked back and forth between the
sisters.

      "I kinda liked Starbucks." Nabiki reminisced.

      "What quest?" Ranma asked.

      "I'll never forget the look on the managers face when
Kodachi cut his cappuccino machine in two." Akane
chuckled.

      "It _did_ sound a bit like a monster hissing, if you
think about it." Nabiki tried to be charitable.

      "What . . .quest!"

      "They're never going to let us back in there, though."
Nabiki noted, shaking her head at life's conundrums.

      "It's too bad," Akane shrugged her book bag into a
more comfortable position. "I liked their organic roast."

      "What! Quest!" Ranma forced each word through
tightly clenched teeth. He wasn't used to being ignored,
unless he wanted it that way.

      "Actually, it's too bad Kasumi isn't a lesbian." Nabiki
looked thoughtful, continuing to ignore Ranma.

      "Nabiki!" Akane giggled, scandalized.

      "Well, it would solve a _lot_ of problems. And
Kodachi is rich and good looking."

      "You're awful." Akane punched Nabiki lightly,
apologizing when her sister's arm went numb and Nabiki
dropped her book bag.

      "Well, it would," Nabiki asserted, rubbing her arm.
"too bad there isn't a way to make Kodachi a boy," she
joked, missing Ranma's flinch.

      "So . . .ummm . . .do you walk all the way to school
on your hands?" Ranma put in, a little uncomfortable with
the direction the conversation was taking and deciding he'd
find out about 'quests' later.

      "I alternate," Akane answered, calmly as if she'd
never flung a challenge in Ranma's face, "and sometimes I
do flips and cartwheels and stuff."

      "Really?" Ranma tilted his head, looking at her
thoughtfully. "How about the fence?"

      "How about the fence . . .what?"

      "Walking on the fence," Ranma suited word to deed
and jumped lightly to the top, balancing easily on one foot.

      "Well, I'm not much for jumping," Akane shrugged
out of her book-bag and handed it to Nabiki, who oofed and
let the bag fall to the ground with a faint clang.  Ranma
looked embarrassed for a moment and was in the process of
jumping down when Akane grabbed a fence post in both
hands, "but I get the job done."

      Ranma's mouth fell open as Akane levered her body
parallel to the ground and "walked", hand over hand, to the
top of the fence. With a convulsive movement she flipped
until she was doing a hand-stand next to Ranma.

      The pig-tailed martial artist whistled involuntarily and
was surprised to see Akane blush.

      "That's amazing," he said honestly. "I'm glad you
didn't get your hands on me last night." He said without
thinking, then could have kicked himself for bringing up
_that_ debacle.

      "You're pretty good yourself," Akane said, looking
up from between her legs. Ranma noticed that someone had
trimmed the ragged ends of hair left from her impromptu cut
of the other night. Even with the bruising from his axe-hand,
she looked really cute with her hair----

      "I wear Lucky Kitty Gym shorts," Akane said acidly,
"to keep perverts from looking at my underwear."

      "What! No, no . . .it wasn't nothin' like that!" Ranma
protested. "I was just lookin' . . .uhhhh . . .at your hair."
Genma would take a stick to him for being so clumsy. And
he'd deserve it. "It's . . .nice . . .short."he finished miserably.

      "Really?" She asked suspiciously.

      "Yeah, it's kinda . . .nice." He trailed off lamely,
aware that his ability to charm women had failed sadly.

      "Oh, . . .well . . .thank you."

      He was amazed to see Akane turn pink at the mild
complement and decided to see if he could capitalize on his
success.

      "Short like that, it kinda makes your eyes look
bigger. An' you've got really cute ears."

      He'd never watched a girl blush while she was doing
a hand stand. He could see the back of her knees turn red.
Now he was back on track.

      "T . . .thank you." Akane wobbled a little, perched on
the fence and he decided to push it just a _little_ bit more.

      "The back of your neck is really sexy"

       She tumbled from the fence and Ranma dove to
catch her, flipping in midair to land with her cradled against
his chest. He held Akane tight for a moment, his heart
thundering in his ears so loudly he thought his head would
burst.

      "Are you al---" A hand connected with his
cheek with a crack that echoed off the surrounding
  buildings. "----right?"

      "I----don't----need----your----help!" She grated,
pushing free of his grip.

      "Geeez," he rubbed his cheek. "I was just tryin' to be
nice."

      "Don't try!" She grabbed her bag from Nabiki and
stalked off down the street.

      "Akane has a little trouble accepting help from
people."

      "Ahhhh . . .that's alright" Ranma said mildly, holding
his seething anger in check. Rule of The Road Number
Eighteen: *_never_ let the other guy know what you are
feeling*. Especially if the other "guy" is a girl.

      "I'm glad you're so understanding," Nabiki said
gratefully. "Some people have a hard time dealing with
Akane. She's a little" Nabiki looked for the right word
"intense about some things."

      Ranma smiled, his face practically glowing with
sympathetic understanding. He decided to try just a little of
his 'city sophisticate' on Nabiki.  "I can't say I understand,"
*except that she's a certified whacko* "but if she takes after
her sister," he let his eyes fill with masculine admiration and
was smugly satisfied to see her face heat a little, "I know that
she must be a wonderful girl and I'm sure that any problem
was probably my fault." He altered his tone and body
language to convey contrition and honest masculine
bafflement at female emotions.

      Like taking candy from a baby. Except a baby would
put up more of a fight, he thought, as he let Nabiki earnestly
assure him that it was _not_ his fault and that if she could do
_anything_ to make it up to Ranma for Akane's tantrum, he
only had to ask.

      Ranma, in turn, spent the rest of their walk together
consoling Nabiki and assuring her that she didn't owe him
anything. With the result, of course, that by the time they
passed through the towering stone gates of Fuurinkan High
School, Nabiki felt she was deeply in his debt.

************************************************


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