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.

This post has a lime rating due to nudity, bondage
and implied adult situations. There is also violence.

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/

Please sign the guest book and let her know what you think
of the page and her artwork as well. ^_O

And to Jiro Maeda for pre-reading and pointing out some
fundamental errors in my conception of Filipino fighting arts
among other things.
You may read his stories at:
  http://www.rakhal.com/florestica/jiro-maeda/index.html


ALSO:

Garry Kleppe, Prince of the Punctuation Pixies,
and Grandee of the Grammar Gnomes for
taking still more time with my stories.

And T.H. Tiger, for enjoying my story, and coming up with
some nifty ideas I wish I'd thought of. Perhaps in my next
story. *_O

I would also like to thank all the people who wrote to me about
my wife's eye-surgery. I'm sorry it's taken so long to reply to each
of you, but shortly after her surgery she contracted bronchopneumonia. :(
She's doing much better now, but things have been a little hectic.

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           Lure the Tiger from the Mountains


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

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

Chapter: 22
Da cao jing she
(Beat the grass to startle the snake)

      "Would you quit following me!" Nabiki glared at
Ukyou, sauntering alongside her as they left the gates of
Furrinkan.

      "Hey," Kimoko chirped from Nabiki's other side, "if
you don't want him, I'll take him."

      "Yeah," Noriko seconded, "he's cute."

      "Kinda skinny," Moeko opined. "I like a little meat
on a man."

      Ukyou's ears turned pink, but he otherwise ignored
the discussion.

      "Ladies, if I wanted a pet, I'd get a dog." Nabiki
groused, irritated that her 'friends' couldn't seem to find
anything to talk about but Ukyou, and 'their' relationship.

      "I bet he'd look cute in a collar and leash." Noriko
stage-whispered.

      "Trainin' 'em is half the fun." Moeko added
authoritatively.  "What!" she said defensively as the other
girls stared at her. "That's what my mom said!"

      Nabiki tuned out the conversation when Moeko
started a discussion on her new Doujinshi "Sinful Rose
Garden." Manga about pretty boys doing pretty things to
each other against a flowery background didn't appeal to
her. She supposed she'd been spoiled growing up, since
Akane was almost always surrounded by very athletic boys
in various states of undress.

      "What are you thinking about?" Ukyou asked softly,
startling her out of her reverie.

      "Just thinking about you holding a leash in your
mouth for 'walkies'." Nabiki stifled a laugh at Ukyou's sour
expression. He really _was_ good looking, she thought
looking him over with a critical eye. Nice build, not too
bulky, good skin ,beautiful eyes with long curling lashes and
thick, slightly wave hair that made your fingers itch to touch
it. Her eyes strayed lower. Nice butt, small and tight,
powerful thighs. Good calves.

      The pretty one's were always selfish, though. They
expected a woman to give up her carrier, her life, _, just_ to
take care of them. 'Marriage retirement', the office ladies
called it. Slavery was a better term.

      "NOW what?" Ukyou snapped, exasperated at the
way the stupid girl kept going off into a world of her own.

      "Nice butt," Nabiki drawled, neither impressed by
his physique nor intimidated by his growl. Especially since
she still had such a vivid memory of him sprawled on the
ground after she slammed him in the head with her book-
bag.

      "What?" Ukyou squeaked, then flushed as he
realized they were now the center of attention of Nabiki's
minions.

      "I said you have a nice butt," Nabiki replied calmly.
"Small, well defined. Not flabby like a lot of guys."

      "Yeah?" Noriko moved to take a closer look at
Ukyou's assets. "Some guys are all gross and wrinkly."

      "And hairy!" Moeko added, shuddering. "I like 'em
smooth and tight. They make a better sound too."

      "Sound?" Ukyou gulped as the girls began to circle
him, like sharks smelling blood in the water.

      "When ya spank 'em." Moeko answered with relish,
the 'stupid' very obviously left unsaid.

      "Spank?" Kimoko's eyes went wide. "Have
you . . .?"

      "Heh . . ." Moeko smirked. "I keep _telling_ you
that Doujinshi are educational.

      "Ladies, Ladies," Nabiki took pity on Ukyou and
moved between him and her girls. "You're going to make
Ukyou-chan think you're amoral beasts with insatiable
appetites," she paused a beat, "you _are_ of course. But
keep your energies focused on the _important_ things in
life."

      "Compound-interest." Moeko said coming to
attention.

      "The house percentage." Noriko chimed in, lining up
beside her friend.

      "Never give a sucker an even break!" Kimoko slid
into place and all three snapped a crisp salute.

      "You make me so proud." Nabiki wiped away an
imaginary tear.

      Ukyou watched the four girls share a laugh, then
separate at the next intersection.

      "You're all crazy." He muttered, glancing nervously
over his shoulder as they walked. "Yeeeek!" The young
martial artist seemed to levitate four-feet straight up, his
hands flashing behind his back to cover his fundament.

      Nibiki looked at him guilelessly. "Something
wrong?"

      "You _pinched_ me!" Ukyou gasped in outrage.
"On the BUTT!"

      "Moi? You must be imagining things."

      Ukyou glared  and Nabiki stifled a grin as the martial
artist fell back into step with her, well beyond arms reach
she noted. If Ukyou wanted to swim with the sharks . . .

      Nabiki whistled a cheerful pop tune while Ukyou
maintained a stony silence all the way back to Nabiki's
home. Rolling her eyes as Ukyou followed her into the
house, she decided to ignore him for the moment. Punching
a button on the answering machine, Nabiki turned to
rummage through the refrigerator.

      "This is Fujimoto," a gravely voice came from the
machine. "Uhhhh . . .I think I can use another machine after
all. Uhhhhh . . .if you don't mind. Sorry . . .sorry about
what I said about . . .bratty snot nosed, . . .uhhhh, what I
said. Please call me. When it's convenient."

      The machine beeped and a light blinked, waiting for
the erase or save command.

      It'll be convenient when hell freezes over, Nabiki
thought savagely to herself, burning with anger as she
remembered the condescending way the old fart had treated
her. She only wished she could afford to give up his
business.

      "Do you hate all juice?" Ukyou asked gravely, "Or is
it a personal grudge against grape?"

      Nabiki stared in confusion, then looked down at the
plastic bottle she was crushing in her hands. "Sorry," she
flushed at being caught in an unguarded moment.
"Ummm . . .would you like something?" She discreetly
shoved the mangled bottle to the back of the refrigerator
and decided on a can of tea instead.

      "Some of the same," Ukyou accepted a can of
Oolong and popped the top, drinking from the can while
Nabiki opted for a glass. Taking a sip she walked to the
machine, hit the save button, and waited for the second and
last message.

      "Hello?" Kasumi's breathless, almost sultry voice
came slightly distorted from the small speaker. "I . . .stop
that!" A loud smack coincided with a muffled squeal. "I'm
with a friend," - -

      Did neesan just _giggle_ ? Nabiki wondered,

       - - "so don't worry - - Don't do that, you'll just
make the knots tighter - - don't worry about me. There
should be plenty to eat in the pantry, and Nabiki knows
where the checkbook is," another thump and a sound as if
something were bouncing . . .hopping frantically?  across
the floor, "Ohhhhh, _naughty_ girl. When I get my hands - -"

       Kasumi's voice cut off and the answering machine
blinked, asking [save]/[delete]. Automatically Nabiki hit
save, staring at the machine in fascination. What in the
_world_ was neesan up to?

      "Junk, bill, bill - - JMAJ . . .must be for Kasumi,"
Ukyou tossed the Journal of the Medical Association of
Japan on the table.

      Nabiki looked over her shoulder to see Ukyou
flipping through their mail.

       "Junk, another bill, Toyama Prefecture Power
Lifting Monthly . . ." he started to toss that aside, then did a
double take. On the cover, under a banner that shouted 'We
Have the POWER!',  Akane held a can of 'Ginko Super
Complex' in her right hand. With her left, she  straight-
armed a small-block V8 engine. Thick cords of muscle
bulged in her arm and the cut-out midriff shirt framed a
granite-hard abdomen. But it was her eyes that caught and
held Ukyou's attention; the look of grim, almost fanatical
determination, to never let go.

      "And they called _me_ crazy for training against the
raging sea?" He muttered to himself, tossing the magazine
on the table.

      "An an, Josei Jishin, WITH, Hanako, MORE! "
Ukyou shot Nabiki a sly look, waggling the thick bundle of
women's magazines. "Yours?"

      "Give me that!" She lunged for the mail which he
held tauntingly out of reach. "You have no right - - "

      "Hmmm . . . nothing from Genma or Ranma," he
finished looking and tossed the mail on the table, except for
a copy of the best selling Non Non. On the cover was a
young model posed with right leg flexed at a perfect ninety
degree angle, left arm pointing to the sky, right hand under
the chin. She looked like some bizarre sculpture; so
perfectly coiffured, outfitted and accessorized that the
human underneath was almost incidental. Merely a
convenient rack to hang the latest trends in clothes, watches
and bags.  He glanced at the dozen or so weekly and
monthly women's magazines spread across the kitchen
table, then back at Nabiki.

            "I get the feeling that Akane-san's idea of high
fashion is matching barbells, and your big sister seems to be
neat and tidy, but I don't see her as a fanatic about house-
keeping, " Ukyou paused, appearing to ponder a complex
problem.  "So, unless your father . . .?" Ukyou smirked at
Nabiki's fulminating look. "Hmmmm . . .does that mean
Yendou Nabiki has a secret homemaker fetish?"

      The skin around Nabiki's eyes tightened, but that
was the only sign of strain as she stared coldly at Ukyou.
"The subscriptions were my mothers." she said flatly,
holding out her hand for the magazine.

      "Oh, hey I'm sorry," Ukyou sounded genuinely
contrite as he handed the magazine to Nabiki. He watched
as she ran a finger over the glossy cover, a sad smile on her
face.

      "Your mom, huh?"

      Nabiki glared at him, prepared to peal a strip off his
hide if he were being sarcastic, but saw only honest
sympathy.

      "She must have been the perfect homemaker," he
commented, looking at the array of magazines covering
everything from gourmet cooking to home-crafts and
sewing your own clothes. "What's so funny?" Ukyou asked,
as Nabiki began to laugh.

      "Y . . .you have _no_ idea!" Nabiki gasped, tears of
laughter streaming down her face as Ukyou's words took
her back in time. She could almost see her mother standing
at the stove . . .


@@@@
    @@@@

      "Now, this is the critical part . . ." Little Kasumi
nodded solemnly as  Tendou Kimeko stared at the page in
her notebook with the same concentration Enrico Fermi
might have had in the Chicago University squash courts in
1942 when he tamed  nuclear fire.

      "First we add just a _dash_ of sake." Nose still in
the notebook Kimeko held a bottle over a pot of water.
Deftly Kasumi plucked the bottle of soy-sauce from her
mother's hand and replaced it with one of sake. "Now for
the salt," with the ease of long practice the eldest Tendou
daughter replaced soap-flakes with the required spice, and
lunch preparations proceeded apace.

      "Hmmmmm . . ."Kimeko tapped her chin
thoughtfully, "Now, where are the strawberries?" As
Kimeko looked through the ingredients set out on the table,
Kasumi gasped and lunged for the notebook, flipping
frantically through the pages while her mother was
distracted. With a sigh of relief she found the page Kimeko
had somehow strayed from, just as her mother gave up her
search.

       "Let's see . . .strawberries," Kimeko peered at the
recipe ". . . that's funny. I could have sworn . . ." A brief
frown marred her normally sunny features, then vanished.
"Take the strips of crab-meat and wrap them in cotton
cloth . . . I wonder if a paper towel would work just as
well?"

       Behind her mother's back Kasumi hurriedly
rummaged through a drawer, found the required material
and slipped it onto the counter beside the crab-meat while
Kimeko's attention was diverted.

      "No paper-towels," Kimeko held aloft a box
triumphantly, "but I found some handy-wipes!"

      Kasumi paled and her eyes darted frantically around
the kitchen, looking for inspiration when there was a knock
at the door and she slumped against the counter in relief.

      "I'm coming in!" Nabiki's voice came down the hall,
followed moments later by the middle Tendou daughter, and
a middle-aged man in an ill-fitting blue suit and string tie.

      "Tendou-san?" The man bowed and held out a card.
Absently Kimeko took it, looking fixedly at the man's arm.

      "I am vice-principal Honda . . ." he paused, noting
Kimeko's distraction. "Is something wrong?"

      "You have a loose thread!" She sounded positively
pleased. "Kasumi-chan, run get my sewing kit." Kasumi
paused, torn between obedience and fear. Obedience won,
but fear for the well-being of her beloved kitchen lent her
wings as she dashed from the kitchen and up to her
mother's room.

      "I'm glad you stopped by Honda-san," she paused
to pour half a bottle of cooking oil into a pot and slide it
into the oven, twirling the temperature control like the dial
of a safe, " we don't see nearly enough of you."

      "We've never met before." the vice-principal looked
bewildered as he was ushered into the next room.

      "And you've come back at _just_ the right
moment - - "

      "I've never been here before," Honda stated, just a
little doubtfully this time. After all, Tendou-san seemed so
positive.

      "  - - because there was a wonderful article in
Nan Nan . . .or was it MORE!," she shook her head, "No
matter. It was a wonderful article on how to handle just this
kind of emergency." Kimeko stripped the jacket from the
bewildered principal just as Kasumi came back in the room,
handing the sewing kit to her mother.

      "I've come to you about a very serious matter,
Tendou-san." Honda tried to regain his dignity, sitting in his
shirt sleeves while a pretty young mother fixed a frayed cuff
on his jacket. "Your daughter," he stared sternly at Nabiki
who quailed under his look, "broke a window at school.
_and_, she _lied_ about it." He finished with relish.

      "This is serious!" Kimeko exclaimed.

      "I'm glad you understand the gravity of the
situation." Honda replied, prepared to be gracious now that
the full majesty and authority of his position had been
reestablished.

      "There's a button missing from the pocket!"

      Honda opened his mouth to announce he was not
here to discuss buttons, when a shrill alarm split the air. At
almost the same instant Kasumi dashed through the room,
and out the doors into the garden, trailing smoke and flame
from a furiously burning pot she grasped between industrial
oven-mitts,. There was the sound of a splash, followed by a
harsh sizzling sound. Kasumi returned, minus the pot, but
soaked with water, aquatic plants hanging from her hair and
a small koi flopping sadly in her apron pocket. She looked
at the koi, looked at Honda, bowed and retraced her steps,
returning again without the fish and reentered the kitchen.

      "A . . .about the window," Honda tried to ignore the
sounds of running water and the harsh whine of a turbo-
charged garbage disposal on overload. "And the lying."
There was a hissing sound and a white cloud from a cee-oh-
two extinguisher floated from the kitchen.

      "How did you break the window?" Kimeko patted
her knee and Nabiki crawled into her lap.

      "I hit a foul ball." Nabiki whispered.

      "Well, good for you," Kimeko encouraged.

      "What!" Honda was outraged and even Nabiki
seemed surprised.

      "What should she have done?" Kimeko said
surprised. "Nasty thing."

      "A foul ball in softball," Honda said cautiously,
feeling his way. "The game." he added helpfully. "You
throw a ball at someone and they try to hit it."

      "Ohhhh," Kimeko said, the light of understanding in
her eyes. "And did you make a touchdown?" she asked
Nabiki.

      "Touch . . ." Honda decided to press on to the more
serious matter. "The fact is that Nabiki-chan did break the
window and then she lied about it when asked."

      "Why were you playing Fowl-ball?" Kimeko
rummaged through her kit and came up with a button for
the jacket pocket. "I feel sorry for the poor birdies."

      Honda's eyes lost focus as he tried to puzzle that
one out.

       Faster on the uptake, and with the advantage of
experience Nabiki smoothly made the correction. "Softball.
It's a P.E. class."

      "This is a class you're taking?" Kimeko snipped off
a bit of thread.

      "Yes," Honda interjected. "Physical Education is
required of all elementary students."

      "Well, it's certainly nice of you to come by and
apologize in person," Kimeko examined her handiwork and
appeared satisfied with repairs to his coat.

      "A . . .apologize!"

      "Yes. It's so rare to see old-fashioned manners these
days." She looked down at her daughter. "Honda-sensei is
_very_ sorry he had people throwing stinky birds at you.
That doesn't at _all_ sound like the kind of thing you should
be learning in school. I'm sure it wasn't your fault," Kimeko
added kindly to Honda. "But I'm going to bring it up at the
next parent-teacher meeting."

      "But . . .but . . ."Honda stuttered, automatically
taking his jacket and somehow finding himself outside the
Tendou compound, promising to come back soon and bring
his lovely wife and children.

      "But I'm not married." He muttered dazedly to
himself, pulling on his jacket. And finding Kimeko had
sewed the sleeve to the pocket.

@@@@
     @@@@

      "You're kidding?" Ukyou sputtered, trying to
repress a laugh.

       "The first chapter in her housekeeping notebook
was 'How to boil delicious water'!" Nabiki sighed. "Not
exactly  'Iron Chef' caliber."

      "Then . . ?" Ukyou pointed to the vast array of
women's magazines.

      "Mama . . .lived in her own little world . . .she
_created_ worlds, and invited you to live there with her."
Hands jammed in her pockets Nabiki paced the kitchen.
"She couldn't cook, but read all the cooking magazines.
Couldn't balance a checkbook or keep house. But she
devoured the women's journals. I use to _dread_ the mail,
because I never knew what she'd try next."

      "Mama would celebrate your birthday three time in a
month - - the _wrong_ month," Nabiki emphasized, "and if
you told her it was a mistake, she'd say you were too
special for just one day." Nabiki's tidy book-keepers mind
revolted at that kind of thinking.

       "If it was a hard winter she'd say how pretty the
frost looked, if the roof leaked, she'd make up games about
the rain-drops. Every _damn_ thing in the world made her
happy!"

      "If the weather was bad, she'd interrupt class at
school to take everyone on an _indoor_ picnic. If we were
out shopping, she'd stop in the middle of the street to watch
a ssstupid  butterfly." Nabiki dashed angry tears from her
eyes.

      "You miss her, don't you?" Ukyou said
sympathetically.

      "She never grew up!" Nabiki snapped. "She got sick
because she liked splashing in the puddles when it rained."

      "She probably didn't get sick deliberately." Ukyou
comforted, not really sure why, except he understood loss.
His mother was  alive in body, but dead to him unless he
could restore the family honor.

      "She never grew _up_!" Nabiki's voice cracked.
"She died and Akane got sick and almost died because she
was a little kid." Her whole body trembled with barely
suppressed emotion. "What the hell business is it of yours!"
she suddenly lashed out, needing something to vent her
emotions on.

      "None," Ukyou began, embarrassed at intruding
where he shouldn't. "I just thought - - "

      Nabiki wrenched around at the crashing sound of
something falling upstairs.

      "What - - ?Hey, wait!" Ukyou shouted as Nabiki
dashed from the kitchen and up the stairs.

      "Kunou! What the hell?"

      Ukyou hit the top stair to see Nabik framed in the
doorway to her father's room. His hand went to the hilt of
his uber-spatula as he heard Nabiki's shocked exclamation.
"Okay," he slid to a stop beside her. "What's goin - -
GENMA!" Ukyou was halfway across the room, weapon in
hand, before his furious shout died out.

      "DIE, you son-of - - -"

      Genma was amazingly quick for such a big man.

      "Get back here you bastard!" Ukyou shouted as he
followed Genma out the window.

      "What's going on Kunou?" Nabiki's voice was icy
as she stomped across the room. "What the hell are you
doing in my house?" She waved a hand at shredded bedding
and overturned furniture. "What - - "

      "None of your business, Tendou Nabiki," Kunou
replied, coldly. As if Nabiki were intruding in _his_
bedroom, not standing in the middle of the wreckage of
Tednou Souun's room.

      "None - - " Fury choked Nabiki so that her mouth
worked soundlessly. "L - - listen to me," Nabiki stuttered,
"you arrogant son of a pigs arse!" She poked him in the
chest, so fast and hard that he took a step back. "All the
little  fascist-sons-of-Nippon at Furinkan might goose step
in your shadow, hoping for a chance to kiss your royal
behind, but I remember when you were seven years old and
making puddles on the floor."

      Kunou flushed angrily at the reminder of their shared
child-hood.

      "What's going on? What are you doing here? With
Saotome Genma?"

      "I do not know any Saotome Genma," Kunou
replied, honest confusion in his eyes.

      "Dammit, the fat, fast, bald SOB that just did a
header out the window."Nabiki stamped her foot angrily.
"What were the two of you doing?"

      "The affairs of 'The Society of Patriotism' are none
of your concern." Kunou replied haughtily, heading for the
door, the lightweight walking-cast on his leg making him
move somewhat stiffly. Nabiki moved to stop him and
discovered anger and guts didn't make up for mass and
skill. One instant she was reaching for Kunou's sleeve, the
next she was watching the floor and ceiling swap places
until she slammed into the wall.

      Her vision grayed out as her brain slammed into the
back of her skull, then bounced forward, bruising and
tearing  delicate tissues. Nabiki did not - - quite - - lose
consciousness, but  hovered in a twilight state filled with
bursts of sound and surreal images as the complex
interlocking control system of her brain lost cohesion, like a
smashed china plate.

       With a groan, Nabiki rolled over onto all fours, then
paused, feeling dizzy and sick, wanting noting more than to
collapse on the floor.

      *Death is a black camel that kneels unbidden at
every gate.*

      "I'm not dead yet." Nabiki mumbled, staring at the
Chinese detective and  wondering how he had gotten into
the house.  Setting that aside for the moment, Nabiki slowly
pushed herself to a squatting position, every movement
making her feel as if her head were going to explode. She
was going to kill Kunou when she caught up with him.

      *Assault and battery not permitted without license
from boxing commission.*

      "Shut up, Chan!" Nabiki whispered hoarsely, feeling
as if her brain and guts had been pulled out and run through
a dryer full of gravel.

      *The pain whilst I am cutting through the outer
layers of skin will not be unendurable.*

      Nabiki could see a masked figure standing at the
foot of the bed, garbed in a surgical gown and holding a fist
full of shiny steel surgical instruments.

      "I know . . .you . . .Mr. X!" She grinned at her
cleverness, and promptly vomited all over the floor. "You . .
. bad . . .guy," Nabiki wiped her vomit slimed mouth with
the back of her sleeve.

       She paused, panting from the effort it was taking to
get to her feet, and her scrambled thoughts lost cohesion.
Shakily she stood, holding onto the dresser for balance.
Taking a cautious step, a sudden spike of pain blasted up
her spine and almost took off the top of her head.

      *It is only when I commence to carve on your vital
organs that you will know you are having . . . an
experience.*

      "G'way M . . .M ssr X," Nabiki slurred at the figure,
which shimmered like air on a hot July day, "I . . .got book
. . . bag n' not 'fraid t' use it."  A sudden surge of nausea
caught her by surprise and she vomited again, but weakly
this time, dribbling the contents of her stomach down her
shirt front. Unable to focus enough to even wipe her mouth,
Nabiki made her way to the stairs, each halting step sending
shooting pains up her back.  After about three steps, she
stopped, leaning against the wall, her rubbery legs barely
able to support her.

      "Hurts," she whimpered, "Papa? K . . .kasumi? I
hurt my . . .self. Mama? Mama . . .I need . . ." A tear
trickled down her cheek. Mama wasn't going to come. No
one ever came. They were too busy taking care of Akane.
But - - sometimes she felt bad too. Sometimes she was
lonely. Feeling very sorry for herself, Naibki wept a little.

      And they came then, crowding around her. Yojimbo,
fierce and wild with his sword naked in his hand. And
Tsubaki Sanjuro, dirty and ragged, funny and wise and
brave pulling on his scraggly beard as he pondered the
foolishness of mankind.. . .The Seven Samurai, Kikuchiyo,
tragic clown,;wise Gorobei; Heihachi, Shichiroji, naive
young Okamoto . . .

      More and more, crowding around her - - her friends
- - her companions who were always there, and even when
they died, always came back next episode. She was never
alone, never lonely as long as she had them.

      A monstrous armored turtle stuck his head through
the wall and offered her a ride on his back. Smiling, Nabiki
waved him away.

      "Gamera! Gamera! You are mighty, Gamera!" She
sang in a little girl voice. The blind swordsman  Zatoichi led
her toward the stairs.

      "Juptier, Mars or Venus, Or any planet at all, Come
out space monster!"

       Like a sick old woman Nabiki made her way to the
phone and almost blindly punched a familiar number on the
speed-dial.

      "Go go go!" She chanted in a small voice. "Use your
jet propulsion, And deliver a body blow!"

      With a series of musical tones the phone made a
connection and she sank to the floor, leaving a smear of
blood on the wall. Leaning back, Nabiki closed her eyes and
listened to the phone ring.

      "Noriko," she whispered as her friend came on the
phone. " 's N'biki. Stuff's hit the rotary impeller. Got t' do
it now. Plan Nine."she chuckled weakly at Noriko's
response. "Yeah, from outer space. Jus' do it. An' No-
chan?" she strained to hear Noriko, who sounded as if she
were shouting from the bottom of a well. Why couldn't the
girl speak up? She started to ask Johnny Sokko, but he and
Giant Robo were playing shogi with Ultraman, and she
decided not to bother them.

       "Doub . . .double th' reward too." Two- hundred
free plays would have every Pachinko player within three
hundred kilometers looking for Genma and the others like
flies on garbage. " 'riko-chan? Call 'mbulance," she slurred,
"think K'no broke my head."

      Slowly Nabiki slid along the wall to rest on the
floor, receiver falling from nerveless hands. Noriko's frantic
voice  was a tinny buzz from the receiver as she hammered
questions at Nabiki.

      *Death . . . is even more of a shock when it comes
unexpectedly and without warning.* Criswell intoned
solemnly, riding Mothra across the sky.

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

Chapter: 23
Jie shi huan hun
(Raise a corpse from the dead)

      Akane's frantic voice on the phone had been like an
electric shock, blasting away the residue of the blind-monk's
drugs and chi.  Coming out of her erotic haze, the eldest
Tendou daughter was momentarily paralyzed with shame
and humiliation.

       Moving with speed and efficiency that amazed
Kasumi, who was used to thinking of her as a spoiled,
irritating butterfly,  Kodachi forced black coffee down
Kasumi's throat, arranged for someone to take notes at her
cram school, replaced her ruined clothes, bundled them both
into a car and had Kasumi walking into the clinic in under
an hour.

      Kasumi loved medicine, the intricate workings of the
human body, gaining the skill to ease suffering. She was
paradoxically less enamored of hospitals, and felt there had
to be something better than peeling green-painted walls, the
smell of fear, blood and stale urine mixed with moans and
tears.

           Making her way down the mildewed corridor of
Nerima Plum-Street Clinic, she edged past a woman
obviously in labor,  lying on a bed alongside the wall, only
to find her path blocked by two elderly men in blue-striped
hospital pajamas playing kaiawase.

      "Pardon me," Kasumi murmured politely.

      Without looking up from his contemplation of the
array of small  white shells, one of the men pulled his IV
stand out of the way. Tapping the back of one shell, his
opponent turned it over. The small picture painted inside
didn't match the one already exposed and the second man
cackled in victory.

      "Thank you." Kasumi squeaked through the small
passaged, followed closely by Kodachi and her servant
Sasuki, leaving the two old men to continue playing the
Japanese version of Memory.


      "Akane!" Seeing her sister huddled in the corner
next to a blanket wrapped figure laying across several chairs
Kasumi hurried forward, pushing through the increasingly
dense crowd in the waiting room.

       "I got here as quickly - -," she stopped short as she
recognized the bruised features of her middle sister. The left
side of Nabiki's face was swollen to nearly twice it's normal
size, and she was alarmingly still, her breathing fast and
shallow.

      "Nabiki?" Gently Kasumi touched the ugly
yellowish-black swelling. "What happened?"  Kasumi asked.
Under her fingers the pulse in Nabiki's neck was rapid and
thready, her skin cool and clammy.

      "I got home," Akane looked blindly at Kasumi,
never letting go her death grip on Nabiki's hand. " - - there
was an ambulance. Neechan was - -  and they took us - -"
Tears welled up in Akane's eyes and her body shook. "The
doctor said she only has a firs . . .first-stage concussion. To
just wait and she'll be better. But in the ambulance they said
she had a ruptured vertebra, and internal . . ."Akane was
shaking so badly she could hardly speak. "And she won't
wake up - - " Fear choked her voice and Akane's mouth
worked soundlessly.

      Hiding her own fear Kasumi ran expert hands over
Nabiki's head, wincing at the large lump, hidden under hair
matted with blood. More frightening was a soft-spot in her
skull, the size of a hundred-yen coin.  Pealing back Nabiki's
eyelids she hissed in shock.

      "What is it?" Kodachi asked softly, placing a hand
on Kasumi's shoulder, not liking the way the blood had
drained from her face.

      "Her pupil is blown." Kasumi said grimly. Kodachi
looked and could see Nabiki's right pupil was completely
opened, leaving only a tiny ring of white showing, in marked
contrast to the left,  which was closed tightly against the
harsh hospital lights.

      "W . . .what does that mean?" Akane croaked,
throat sore from crying.

      "It means I want to talk to the doctor that looked at
her," Kasumi smiled, hiding her fear. "I'll be right back.
You stay with Nabiki-chan in case she wakes up."

      "My lady, what . . .?" Kodachi hurried to keep up
with Kasumi's determined stride."

      "Not now!" Kasumi dismissed harshly.

      Not at all perturbed, Kodachi followed silently as
Kasumi searched for one of the many doctors that should be
making rounds.

      "Sensei!" Kasumi stopped a white-coated figure as
he hurried across the room, clip-board in hand.

      "What! I'm very busy, young lady."

      "Please sensei," Kasumi said, almost stuttering
under the effort to control her emotions. "I believe my sister
has a subdural hematoma. She may need emergency
surgery."

      "Thank you for your diagnosis, _doctor_," the
balding man snapped sarcastically, eying the young girl in
the ill fitting mismatched clothing distastefully, "but this is
not a televison drama. Let the doctors do their work and
you stay out of their way." He turned to go and Kasumi
grabbed his sleeve in desperation.

      "Sensei, Please. I am a student - - "

      "Get your hands off of me," the doctor pushed her
away roughly, making her stumble. "Security!" He called
sharply. That was the problem with working in a small
clinic. Just anyone could walk in.

      "Incompetent piece of dog shit." Kodachi steadied
Kasumi with one hand, the other fisted on her hip. Her tone
was so conversational that it was an instant before her
words registered.

      Flushing angrily the doctor stepped forward. "Who
do you think you are!" Where was security, he wondered.
He'd take great pleasure in having these two hauled out in
handcuffs.

      "I think that I am Kunou Kodachi," she smiled thinly
at the doctor, a thousand years of Samurai tradition glinting
in her hard eyes. Tradition that she commanded and
peasants obeyed. Or died. "And I think that you are no
longer employed here."

      "The Kunou Endowment?" Blood drained from the
doctors face, leaving him the color of rice-bran. "Kunou
Import and Export? The Kunou Trauma Center . . ." He
swallowed hard, quailing at the look on her face. "Kunou
Holding Company, Limited? That Kunou?" He felt a sharp
prickling at the nape of his neck and shivered, expecting to
feel the sharp edge of a katana at any moment.

      "Sasuki," Kodachi squeezed Kasumi's waist
reassuringly, never breaking eye contact with the doctor.
"Call 'Uncle' Matsukuro at Tokyo Medical."

      If possible the doctor went even paler at the mention
of the director of Japan's premier research center.

       "Tell him what has happened and ask him to send
whatever resources are needed to treat Tendou Nabiki. No
expense is to be spared."

      Kodachi thought for a moment. "Call the airfield and
have the Boeing readied for immediate flight to America or
Europe. Outfitted with whatever 'Uncle' Matsukuro says is
required for medical transport if Nabiki-san can get better
treatment overseas."

       "And have the helicopter put on five-minute
standby." That meant flight checked, pilot and co-pilot
strapped in and engine turning; at ninety-five thousand yen
per minute just for jet-fuel.  The tiny retainer didn't raise an
eyebrow but began speaking rapidly into a satellite phone.

      "And you," Kodachi's voice cracked like a whip and
the doctor flinched. "Go get a real doctor."

      Kodachi watched the shaken man vanish down a
corridor, then turned and lead Kasumi back to where they
had left her sisters. Almost as they arrived, the doors burst
open and a trauma team charged down the corridor,
expertly moved Nabiki onto a gurney and whisked her
away.

      "How is she?" Noriko panted, arriving just in time to
see Nabiki disappear. "I got to your place as quick as I
could, but the house was empty and the door was wide
open."  She paused to steady herself, then went on more
calmly, rummaging through her purse. "Nabiki-chan told me
where the spare key is kept, in case of emergencies. I guess
this counts. Here," she handed a key to Kasumi, "I didn't
know what else to do so I locked up. I would have been
here sooner but it took me a while to find out where they'd
taken her."

      "Thank you," Kasumi took the key, turning it over
and over between her fingers. "Nabiki is . . .she is very
sick. They are going to evaluate her but she will probably
need surgery - - how did you know something had
happened?" Kasumi asked, suddenly aware of what Noriko
was saying.

      "We were talking. She called me on the phone and
asked - - " She stopped suddenly, knowing Nabiki didn't
like her business discussed with anyone. Not even, or
perhaps especially, with family.

      "We were talking," Her brief hesitation hadn't gone
unnoticed, but Kasumi ignored it for the moment. "Nabiki-
chan sounded strange . . .kind of out of it. Then she said to
call an ambulance because Kunou had broken her - - "
Noriko sucked in a breath as she realized what she had said,
but there was no way to unsay it. She looked over at
Kodachi, afraid of what she would see, but it was Akane's
face that frightened her.

      "Kunou?"

      Never had Noriko imagined a single word could be
imbued with such . . .anger was too tame a word. Akane's
face had gone still, like a Nou mask, but fire smoldered in
her eyes and Noriko flinched back with a small whimper.

      "Akane-chan," Kasumi touched Akane's arm gently.
"Nabiki . . .with a head injury like that she might not have
known what she was saying."

      "What did Oneesan say." Each word was forced
from Akane's mouth, clipped and sharp . "Exactly what did
she say about Kunou."

      "That . . ."Noriko took a deep breath, working
furiously to remember exactly what was said." She said . . .
'Noriko . . .call an ambulance. Kunou broke my head'. I
think," she added hastily. "It was kind of hard to understand
her. She sounded like she was drunk."

      Akane sucked in her breath harshly and the fire in
her eyes blazed. Without a word she turned heavily and
headed for the door.  As she did so, Kodachi stepped in
front of her.

      "Move," Akane grated, the word harsh, brooking no
argument.

      "You are strong and brave, yet Tatiwaki is no mean
warrior," Kodachi replied, not budging. "Moreover, you are
a grappler while my brother favors the blade. Also has he
long  studied the art of your school against the day he might
fight you seriously. If he has done this foul thing, and I think
it possible, you must not face him alone, for he is . . .he will
countenance any treachery if he thinks it good for his 'New
Japan'."

      Kodachi's eyes held an almost unbearable sadness as
she thought of what her brother had become. "I will follow
and stand at your left side." Akane looked shocked and
Kodachi's voice held an unaccustomed note of seriousness.

      "He is my brother, and I love him. But I do not love
the things he has done of late. I do not love what he is
becoming." She shook herself as if throwing off an
unpleasant memory. "Better that he is humbled by an
honorable enemy than to rise higher with dishonorable
friends."

      "Thank you,"Akane replied, her stony face relaxing
slightly, "but stay here with Kasumi-Oneesama. I'd feel
better is she had someone with her, and you can make sure
Nabiki is taken care of."

      "I feel kinda sorry for Kunou-senpai" Norkio
muttered, wincing as the swinging doors banged against the
wall in Akane's wake. Then she thought about the pathetic
bundle she'd seen disappearing into the bowels of the
hospital as she arrived. "Fuckit. I hope she shoves Kunou's
bokken up his ass and roasts him like a pig."

****
    ****

      Akane got out of the cab and shoved some bills at
the driver. Carelessly stuffing her change in a pocket she
started walking purposefully down the street.

      It was misting slightly, not enough to wash clean the
streets, but enough make the air thick with the smell of
sweat, automobile exhaust and refuse waiting to be picked
up from corner bins.

      Limping slightly, the damp and strain of he day
making her joints ache, Akane made her way through the
throngs of salary-men, school-girls in sailor-fuku and
mothers with tired looks and tired babies on their hip, into a
darker area of town. One populated by goth-girls in gold-
lame and patent-leather, androgynous figures dressed like
characters in JUMP and a couple of motor-cycle punks in
white jump-suits with Elvis side-burns and dark-glasses.
They were trying to pick up girls to the sound of 'Blue-
Suede-Shoes" blasting from a state-of-the-art digital stereo
lashed to the back of a Suzuki sport bike, whose ownership
was problematic since a drill bit was still sticking from the
ignition.

      A group of men and women in orange-robes banged
Indian tambourines, chanting Hari-Krishna as they handed
out bowls of rice-curry to a long line of homeless men. In
the midst of this foaming river of humanity lay an
oppressively sterile space in front of a plastic and steel
fronted building. A large sigh proclaimed that this was the
headquarters of the

      CHERRY BLOSSOM SOCIETY

       below that a smaller sign read:

      Youth Patriotic Assembly:
           Today at 4:45
            Kunou Tatiwaki.
Topic: Inoculating Japan against Foreign Infection

      Moving heavily up the short flight of steps, Akane
was stopped by two men dressed in black-leather suits of a
military cut. Silver buttons embossed with the Imperial
Chrysanthemum and Rising-Sun armbands accentuated their
martial appearance.

      "I would like to see Kunou-senpai," Akane
requested  politely.

      By her bearing and speech she was pure Japanese of
good breeding, if a mere female, so Satoru made an effort to
be polite.

      "Youth Meeting," the heavyset man growled,
jerking a thumb at the sign above his head. "Get lost."

      "It's a family matter."

      "Family, huh?" Satoru chuckled, eying her belly and
wondering why Kunou-san had been plowing this particular
field. Maybe a mercy-fuck for some friends fat sister?

      "Well then, you just go ahead in." Satoru bowed,
then chuckled again as the door rattled, but didn't move,
when Akane jiggled the door-handle.

      "Oooops. Looks like it's locked," Satoru grinned
widely, showing a mouthful of yellow teeth. "Ain't that a
shame, Dai?" His companion didn't reply, continuing to
scan the street below with empty snake-like eyes. "Sure is a
shame," Satoru taunted, "but it's locked and barred from
the inside. Otherwise I'd just let you go - - "

      Akane took a step back, turning slightly as if to
leave, then sprang forward explosively, a Ki-shout erupting
from her throat as she slammed a Black-Dragon hammer-
hand into the join of the double doors. The case-hardened
lock exploded with a crack under the impact. The locking-
bar across the interior of the doors held, but the mounting-
bracket was ripped off the bolts securing it to the wall, the
whole assembly tumbling down the interior corridor with a
tremendous metallic clang.

      "I'm going in now." Akane said politely, stepping
delicately around the twisted wreckage of the two doors,
walking slowly but deliberately toward the sound of Kunou
Tatiwaki's voice, booming over a public address system.

      *Japan is ill, corrupted by foreign influences. It is
time for strong medicine. It is time to fight the  rot that has
infected Japanese spirit.  Now is the time to attack the
sickness that has infected Japan. Attack! Attack!
ATTACK!*

  ****
      ****


      Half a block away, Ranma watched Akane vanish
into the building with a feeling of disgust. If the idiot girl
had waited another _five_ minutes he would have made it to
the hospital in time to pound some sense into her thick head
before she went off in search of honor or justice or
something equally stupid.

      As he approached the building, the two guards
moved to block his him and something hot and primitive
boiled just under the surface as he heard shouts and crashing
deep inside the building. He'd put too much effort into this
con, and she wasn't worth a bent 50 Yen piece to him dead
or even seriously hurt.  Dammit, Akane belonged to
_him_!


      "Where th' hell do you think you're goin'?"

      As Ranma trotted up the steps the heavyset guard
reached for him. From the callouses on his hands Ranma
pegged him as a Karate man, and not a very good one. The
whip-cord lean man with the dead eyes was more
interesting. Ranma watched his hands move toward a faint
bulge under his jacket, making a mental bet.

      Arnis de mano! Ranma smiled slightly as the man
produced the two Arnis of the Filipino fighting art, black
Kamagong wood, hard as iron and heavy as hell.  Even
before the sticks were clear of their sheath, Ranma flicked
his hand, as if brushing away a fly, and the man screamed,
hands going to his bleeding eyes.

       Continuing his movement, Ranma fisted his slack
fingers, slamming his hand like a cracking whip against the
heavyset man's throat. With a gurgling cry Satoru fell to his
knees as Ranma snapped around in a reverse crescent kick
to the side of the blinded Arnis man's head, slamming him
into the wall. Two quick kicks relocated each man's knee-
cap slightly closer to the hip than nature originally intended.

      Rule ninety-seven of the road, *Never turn your
back on someone who can run faster than you can.*

      The entire operation had taken under five seconds
and Ranma chided himself for being sloppy as he hurried
toward the sound of shouting angry voices.

      Following the sound of shouting along the hallway
Ranma made a sharp left down a short dog-leg and found
himself at the back of a large auditorium; which seemed to
be filled with a migrating heard of enraged pigs. After a
moment the scene resolved itself into a mass of mostly
teenage boys, dressed alike in black leather.

      A grunt and squeal was followed by a figure flying
through the air to land with a crash in a pile of overturned
chairs. The action was repeated several more times as
Ranma walked, unnoticed at first, from the back of the
room and made his way through the throng to where the
crowd was thickest.

      The baby-fascists were not at first inclined to let
another stranger past, an impediment Ranma overcame with
the simple expedient of a rabbit-punch to the kidneys from
behind. Quick, efficient and a soft target.

      Rule Twenty-two: *Don't break your fist, breaking
their heads! Look for a soft spot or a hard rock*

      One pimply faced boy had his arm around Akane's
throat, attempting a sleeper hold, while a second swung a
short club at her stomach.

      With a look of annoyance, as if being pestered by a
pack of yapping puppies, Akane peeled the arm from
around her throat, snapped an elbow into the boy's now
exposed   gut - -

      All the air left his lungs in an explosive burst.

      Grunt.

      Grabbed him by neck and crotch - -

      All the colour left his face as a steel clamp closed
around his testicles and he made a sound like a calf being
castrated with the edge of a sharp rock.

       Squeal.

      A quick flick of her wrist and pimply-face went
flying.

      Crash.

      The club-wielding boy's weapon hit Akane's belly
and bounced. Before he had time to compound his error and
try again, Akane's hard right hand snapped out and caught
him on the point of the chin, bouncing his brain around in
his skull like a tennis-ball at the Wimbledon finals and he
dropped like a man shot through the head.

      Watching Akane's version of Close-Range-
Interpersonal-Crisis-Management, Ranma caught a glint of
steel out of the corner of his eye. Taking a couple of quick
steps to the side he tapped a young man on the shoulder.

      "Uh uh," Ranma shook his head, smiling gently, as
he indicated the long serrated-blade the boy held half-hidden
low down against his right thigh

      With a growl the boy stabbed upward, trying to slide
the slim blade between Ranma's ribs.

      Stepping forward and to his left, Ranma slapped the
young man on the inside of the elbow, grabbing the knife-
hand on the outside of the wrist. Reversing his movement,
Ranma pivoted right, re-directing the path of the thrust in
and down, pinning the boy's man-hood to the inside of his
thigh.

      As Ranma stepped around the screaming, bleeding
boy he noticed several of the semi-emasculated boy's
friends rushing to his aid. Economy of motion, Ranma
thought, checking to make sure he hadn't mussed his
favorite shirt - - wound one, take three more out of the
fight.

       Glancing around he saw Akane grab an attacker by
the arms and, with a scream of aggravation, clear a circle
around her, using the body as a bludgeon. Watching her
sweaty, disheveled appearance he shook his head
sorrowfully at Akane's brute force approach.

      "Are ya gonna be playing around much longer?"
Ranma moved to stand just outside the range of her
improvised flail. "It's almost time ta eat an' I missed lunch."

      "What!" Surprised, Akane let go of the swinging
boy who hit the floor, bounced and slid along the ground
until a concrete pillar stopped his progress with a meaty
thud. "What are you doing here?" Panting slightly, a frown
crossed her face. "I don't need any help."

      "Hey," Ranma shrugged, holding his hands  palm
out. "Not my business. But since I'm kinda your sensei I
wanted ta see if I'm teaching ya good or not."

      "If I'm teaching you_ properly_," Akane
automatically corrected. Turning away she didn't see his
small grin of triumph.

      Oh yeah, Ranma thought. Akane was hooked. And
once she started going through the laundry, matching up his
socks, he'd know she was landed.

      "Kunou!"

      Not Kunou-senpai, Ranma noted. He wondered if
bokken-boy was smart enough to notice the omission.

      "Kunou!" Akane stomped to the edge of the stage.
"I want to talk to you."

      Kunou Tatiwaki stepped from behind the lectern,
resplendent in over a million yen worth of custom tailored
silk and hand crafted Italian leather, tastefully accented by a
stickpin with a diamond Imperial Chrysanthemum in the
center of a ruby Rising Sun.

       Ignoring her, Kunou stared coldly at his audience,
some of whom were being helped to their feet by friends or
being made comfortable where they lay. Most of the rest,
about sixty in all, milled around uncertainly, filling the
auditorium with the low buzz of their conversation.

      "Silence!"Kunou thundered, "Have you no shame?
True samurai are not disturbed by the yapping of a bitch-
cur!"

      Ranma winced. Nope, not a clue.

      With a startled scraping of chairs, the remaining
boys returned to their seats.

      "_This_ is the result of five decades of foreign
contamination of our sacred soil!" Kunou pointed
dramatically at Akane, "cripples allowed openly on the
streets instead of being kept decently out of sight."

       Akane's face tightened, slightly.  Kunou wasn't the
first person to feel like that about her. It was the first time
she'd ever heard Kunou say it, and she was surprised at the
stab of pain.

      "Kunou," Akane interrupted, only a slight quaver in
her voice. "Nabiki-Oneesan is - -"

      "Be silent!" Kunou thundered. "Your weakling
father may allow such unseemly behavior in his women, but
Kunou Tatiwaki will not!" He spread his hands wide, fixing
his mesmerized audience with a piercing glare. "THIS is the
result of letting women forget their place. Japanese Culture
and Tradition are weakened, corrupted!"

      Ranma bit back a laugh. He hadn't seen anything so
funny since Genma had downed half a liter of Sterno, then
danced naked through a village in Senegal, announcing he
was Queen of the Snow Pixies.

      "Tendou Souun betrayed the nation by admitting
foreigners into his doujou, and his home." Kunou sneered.
"Freely teaching the secrets of his ryuu to filthy Koreans
and Chinese.  Teaching these sangokujin who have again
and again committed atrocious crimes against sacred
Nippon." He glared at Akane with all the fervor of an
Evangelical preacher with a fresh shipment of brimstone and
sinners. "His mad wife, produced no sons for the nation.
Twice a traitor. And his daughters," Kunou's tone made his
disgust obvious, "following the influence of decadent
foreign powers these unnatural females squander the
resources of the Nation."

      "Nabiki-oneesan is in the hospital," Akane
interrupted, with only a minor quaver in her voice. "They're
going to operate. She may - - "Akane's voice broke and her
throat worked as she swallowed, "She's hurt really bad,"
Akane sounded like a bewildered little girl as she looked up
at Kunou. "Oneesan isn't a martial artist. She doesn't know
how to fall or to throw a punch or . . . you didn't need to - -
Why?" The last was a heartfelt plea for an explanation,
something that would make it all a mistake.

      "It is not your place to question a man's will,"
Kunou leapt from the stage landing lightly despite the
walking cast on his leg. "nor to interfere with the building of
the New Japan as your foolish sister did.  Not merely
forgetting her place as a woman, not satisfied with
neglecting her duty to marry and produce sons - - she
distracted the workers with her gaming machines, further
weakening the nation. And was rightly punished by heaven."
Kunou finished, not merely confirming his guilt, but
boasting of it.

      Ranma felt his jaw drop, watching Kunou with all
the horrified fascination of a spectator at an oncoming train
wreck. He'd heard of a death wish, but never actually seen
one before.

      "Just as your father and elder sister will be punished,
for their crimes against the New Japan." Kunou paused,
staring coldly at the youngest Tendou.

      "Crimes! What crimes?" Akane searched Kunou's
face for any sign of her childhood playmate. Instead, she
found a rigid mask of fanaticism; slogans replaced thought,
mercy twisted to sadism and compassion perverted to a
cruelty that would have revolted Torquemada and the
Spanish Inquisition.

      "Your father" Kunou continued scornfully, "instead
of remarrying and producing sons for the Empire, has
wasted his life _mourning_ the death of a silly woman who
was better dead.

      Akane's face went bone white.

      "Tendou Kasumi's crimes - - educating herself
above her place, wasting the resources of the state that
should go to a man. Doubly a criminal for not marrying and
producing sons,  and criminal also for distracting the
daughter of the house Kunou with unnatural desires, so that
she also has produced no sons for the nation."

      Kunou glared at Akane."Return home and tell your
father and sisters to prepare themselves for judgement."
Kunou dismissed her, contemptuously.

      "Goodby Kunou," Akane said simply, surprising the
hell out of Ranma, who'd expected Akane to pound Kunou
like a rice-cake until his eyeballs popped out his ears and
rolled across the floor. "I'll apologize to Nabiki-oneesan for
you." She turned to go. "And . . . don't say stupid things
like that around father or Oneesama. They loved the old
Japan. They might not understand your new one."

      "Don't turn your back on me!" Kunou snapped. He
held out his hand and his sub-lieutenant, Hiroshi, slapped a
bokken into his open palm. "I haven't given you leave to
depart."

       "I don't have time to play Shogun and Samurai
right now."Akane said tiredly,"I've got to find out how
oneechan is doing."

      "Don't bother," Kunou grated, infuriated by
Akane's attitude. She should have been terrified by his
anger, and properly humble at his forbearance. Not
indifferent, dismissing him as if he were a tiresome child.
"After I finish with you, I'll put her out of her misery."
Holding his bokken at high guard, Kunou moved to block
Akane's path.

      "That's not funny, Kunou." Akane's jaw tightened
slightly and her body automatically dropped into a defensive
posture.

      "It is time to cleanse Japan of corruption, so that we
may regain the greatness that is our birthright." The fire of a
true-believer burned in his voice. "I shall personally excise
the tumor that is the family Tendou. And my own pitiful
unnatural sister, as an example and an inspiration for all true
Samurai of the New Japan!"

      "Samurai?" Akane's expression had gradually
hardened as Kunou's diatribe continued. "You hurt
neechan, in her own house. Threaten oneesama and papa - -
Samurai?" She laughed harshly. "Burakumin!" A gasp went
through the room and even Ranma was shaken. Calling
Kunou an untouchable was an insult that had to be
answered, with death if necessary. And no court in Japan
would convict Kunou if he killed her for it.

      "I would have put you down cleanly, like a sick
dog." Kunou rasped, "Now, I will leave you broken and in
agony, as an example to all who are enemies of the New
Japan!" With a cry Kunou leap forward, wooden blade
sweeping in a viscous cut down and across from the upper
right side. At the last moment, Akane moved forward and to
the outside, right hand going to Kunou's shoulder, her left
hand to his waist. Akane dropped her hips and pivoted
sharply, adding to his momentum, launching Kunou into the
air.

      Panther-like the kendouist twisted in the air,
stumbling  slightly because of his injury as he landed facing
Akane. He eyed her narrowly for a moment, then toed off
his expensive Italian loafers to stand bare-foot on the floor.
One hand went to the buttons of his jacket, then paused. At
Akane's fractional nod he stripped off his jacket and tie,
tossing them on-stage.

      Ranam groaned in exasperation. *Idiot! Kick him in
the nuts while he's tangled in his coat!* But Akane simply
stood, waiting.

      "Hey!" A boy yelled from the stage. "This isn't a fair
fight. Kunou-senpai has an injured leg!"

      Without breaking eye contact with Kunou, Akane
reached down and unbuckled her knee brace, tossing it
aside.

      *Moron! Break his leg again, then stomp on th'
break!* Ranma wasn't sure he could stand to be around all
this Samurai nobility without throwing up.

      Holding his bokken lightly, hilt just above his waist,
Kunno eyed his opponent for a moment, then moved like a
striking snake, the tip of his sword aimed for a point
between her eyes.

      Turning, Akane slapped the blade away in a side-
handle-circle, her other hand stabbing for his throat in a
spear-point-fist.

      Without stopping his forward movement Kunou
brought the hilt of his sword up to block Akane's hand, slid
past her and stabbed backward with his thumb against the
hilt and the flat of the wooden blade laying along his arm.

      But Akane had continued her turn, and slammed the
blade down and away with a broom-sweeps-clean. Instead
of moving away, she continued _inside_ of his reach,
grabbed him by the shoulder and waist and again Kunou
went flying.

      *This could take a while* Ranma hooked a chair
with his toe and pulled it to him. Kunou's technique was
perfect, but his injury was throwing him off balance, while
Akane had lived with her handicap for a lifetime. He winced
as Akane avoided a reverse cross cut, using Lotus-Blossom-
Falls.

      *More like Arthritic-Pig-Wallows* he thought
sorrowfully. Lotus-Blossom was one of his favorites and it
hurt to see it so . . . mangled.

       Rummaging through the pockets of a semi-
conscious body he pulled out a wallet, thick with Yen.  A
couple of thumps roused the boy and sent him scurrying
away towards a row of vending machines visible through a
side door. A few moments later he came back, arms full of
cans and packages.

      But, Akane was _definitely_ better for his teaching,
Ranma noted smugly as he watched his pupil's footwork,
and saw that she was reloading almost perfectly. For her,
that was.

      *Heck, if I can do that much with _her_, I bet I
could teach a Chimpanzee ta compete at th' Olympics!*

      Still, Ranma could tell that if Kunou hadn't been so
locked into his 'style' Akane would have been in real
trouble, despite Kunou's injury.  Kunou was good with his
chosen weapon, the best Ranma had ever seen. Ranma
doubted he could better him with the bokken, he'd be hard
pressed to match Kunou - - in the doujou. But real fights
weren't won on points and style didn't count for much
when the shit hit the fan.

      Ranma selected a box from the stack in the boy's
hands and pulled the string that activated the chemical
heating element in bottom. While he waited for his rice-
curry to heat he popped the top off a bottle of beer with his
thumb, and settled back with a sigh as Kunou went sailing
through the air once more, stumbling slightly as he landed.
*At least the beer is cold.*

      Watching the fight, Ranma realized he'd been too
hard on Akane. She was rigid, limited and graceless. But
she did seem to understand, if only dimly, that _martial_ art
meant the art of war. Kunou was fast, exquisitely trained
with an almost perfect kinesthetic sense and timing. But he
seemed incapable of changing his mindset from the doujou.
Brute force and meanness were about to win over speed,
talent and training.

      Ranma was just peeling back the lid, sniffing
appreciatively at the spicy aroma of his meal, when Kunou
flubbed his landing and  hit the wall with a thud after being
thrown. He hit the wall twice more before Ranma finished
chasing the last bit of rice around the bottom of the bowl.
Ranma winced at Kunou slammed into the wall yet again,
seeming a little dazed as he came back to ready position.

      *Man, that's gotta hurt. He's liable ta' get a
concussion - - * Ranma's blood went cold. * - - just like
Nabiki.*

      Quickly Ranma replayed the fight in his head. Akane
hadn't hit Kunou once. She passed up opportunities to hit
him, just to set Kunou up for a throw. The _same_ throw
each time. Not one from their ryuu either, but one that
would be used by a fighter whose primary training  was
kendou.

      Kunou hit the wall again. His hesitation coming back
out was more pronounced this time.

      "Jesus, Buddha and Vishnu!" Ranma whispered,
watching Kunou move slowly  to meet Akane. She was
throwing Kunou like Kunou threw Nabiki, Ranma realized.
Always onto his left side. Baring divine intervention, Akane
looked prepared to keep throwing him until either the wall
or Kunou broke.

      Kunou seemed to come to the same realization as he
abruptly pulled a concealed blade from his bokken and
slashed viscously at her head, simultaneously sweeping her
legs with the bokken 'sheath'.

      The abrupt change to a two-sword style caught
Akane off guard. She twisted to avoid the greater danger of
the steel blade, but the hardwood 'sheath' caught her
alongside the knee and she cried out, hitting the floor hard.

      "Your finish!" Kunou cried, slashing down as Akane
rolled frantically - - and a folding chair flashed across the
floor forcing Kunou to jump back.

      "You dare!" he snarled, turning to face Ranma. "I'll
deal with you as soon as I finish with this!" He turned back
to Akane, who was raising heavily to her feet, favoring her
leg. "And then I'll finish what I started with Tendou Nabiki!
I'll teach you to take the New Japan seriously. I'll remind
the people what true Samurai are, and who are really
Burakumin."

      Never taking her eyes from Kunou, Akane stripped
off her belt, sliding her belt-purse hard against the buckle
and looping the free end of the belt back through the loop,
so the metal tongue of the buckle stuck out at right angles,
like a hook. Pulling off her scarf she dumped her pocket full
of change in the length of silk and knotted it around the
other end of her belt before Kunou finished talking.

      "You're going to finish what you started?" Akane's
eyes had gone flat and her whole trembled with barely
suppressed emotion. "Finish oneesan?" She started one end
of her belt spinning. "Teach oneesama?" Like a striking
serpent Akane's arm shot out and the weighted scarf
smashed into Kunou's forearm with bone cracking force.

           Kunou's arm went numb and his blade went skidding
across the floor and out of sight under a row of chairs,
inadvertently saving his life. Seeing the hidden blade
disappear, Ranma relaxed slightly, deciding not to kill the
idiot. Yet.


      "I'm won't let you hurt Nabiki-oneesan again."With
a flick of her wrist Akane brought the weighted end back to
her, then set it spinning again with an evil moan as it blurred
through the air. "I won't. Let you."

      Kunou was no coward and despite tremendous pain,
lashed out with his sword's bokken sheath, itself a deadly
weapon.

      "I won't let you hurt Kasumi-oneesama!"With a
whip-like crack Akane ripped open the back of his hand
with the barbed end of what Ranma recognized as an
improvised 'meteor hammer'.

      "Son-of-a - - " biting back an oath Ranma felt a
frisson of excitement run up his spine. *Too linear, too
slow. All I gotta do is stay outa her reach and pound her ta
pieces.*  And while he was _safely_ beyond her reach, she
could bust his skull like a ripe tomato. *An' wouldn't th'
old man get a laugh outa _that_!*

      Ranma remembered his condescending appraisal of
Akane's skill with mix of self-disgust and pride at his pupil
and future bride.

      An agonized cry brought his attention back to the
fight, which had turned into a slaughter, with Akane driving
Kunou before her like a leaf before a typhoon.

       The weighted purse, moving at better than seventy
kilometers per hour, lashed out to either side of the
bewildered kendoist, blasting splinters out of the wall or
floors if he strayed too far from the path she set for him.
Chanting something under her breath, Akane herded him
about the room like a dumb beast, the barbed hook lashing
out, methodically stripping him  of his clothes and dignity
until he was a tattered, bleeding wreck, leaking from dozens
of shallow cuts.

      One of Kunou's followers lurched forward,
swinging a chair at Akane's back. Without looking around
she snapped the weighted end of the 'hammer' behind her
and he fell back with a scream, clutching his bruised
shoulder. Which could just as easily have been broken, as
Akane proceeded to demonstrate on Kunou as she smashed
his left forearm, then both shoulders in rapid succession.
Whipping the 'hammer' around low to the ground she
cracked the weight against his ankle and Kunou fell to the
ground with a strangled scream.

      "Unforgivable," Her chanting rose in volume as she
flicked the whip end against his back and buttocks, the pain
spasming his body along the ground like a broken-backed
snake. "Unforgivable!"

      "UNFORGIVABLE!"

      Akane's shriek of rage matched the sound of  the
weighted purse as it spun faster and faster. Suddenly it
lashed out to smash saucer sized divots from the floor on
either side of Kunou's head. Helpless, the kendoist lay
sobbing in a pool of his own blood and urine, knowing that
the next strike or the next would explode his head like a
rotten melon.

      "Okay, I think Kunou's through playin' now."
Timing Akane's movements, Ranma moved in suddenly,
struck the nerve bundle in her wrist and snatched the
'hammer' from her hand in one smooth motion.

      "Hey, hey!" Ranma jumped back, stuffing the
'hammer' in his pocket and holding out empty hands. "It's
me, Ranma? Just calm down." Staring at him with empty
eyes, a low keening sound coming from her throat Ranma
wasn't sure how much Akane understood in her berserker
rage. With sudden inspiration he changed tactics

      "Kasumi-san won't like it if a kill him. If ya kill him,
the police are gonna hafta bother Kasumi-san."

      A flicker of something passed across her mad-eyes
and Ranma pressed his advantage.

      "Ya don't wanna upset Kasumi, do ya?"

      "N . . neesama?" A little more light came into the
darkness behind Akane's eyes.

      "Yeah, neesama," Ranma agreed. "Why don't we go
see her. After we get ya cleaned up," he muttered to
himself, looking at the dirty sweat soaked hair matted to her
face and her torn, blood spattered uniform. Unresisting she
let him put and arm about her waist and lead her toward the
exit.

      "Ya might want ta get Kunou to a doctor before
leaks all over th' floor." Ranma said over his shoulder.
"An' it might be better if you didn't mention Akane or
nuthin' like that. If the police came around upsettin' her
sisters, what with Nabiki bein' in th' hospital an' all . . . you
wouldn't want to get Akane-san all upset again." Ranma let
his voice trail off suggestively.

      Tokuyama Hiroshi, looked at Akane's foam flecked
lips and  slightly mad eyes, then down at his senpai, who
resembled a package of hamburger past it's expiration date
and came to a quick decision.

       He'd rather roll in soy-sauce and run naked through
the lion compound at feeding time than upset Tendou
Akane.  He wondered if it was too late to get a job on his
uncle's fishing boat.  Hauling cod in the North Atlantic
sounded pretty good right now.

      "T . . .Tendou? I've never heard the name Tendou.
Senpai fell down the stairs," Hiroshi shot a quick glance at
Kunou "from the top of Tokyo Tower."

      Another lieutenant shot a doubtful glance at what
was left of Kunou.  "Twice?"

      Smiling benignly at such quick understanding
Ranma led Akane gently away, pausing to thriftily salvage
Kunou's wallet and stick-pin from the ruin of his suit.

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


Chapter: 24
Shing dong ji xi
(Make a feint to the east while attacking in the west)

      Akane was trembling so violently by the time they
got to the street that only Ranma's arm around her waist
kept her on her feet. He could feel the pulse in her wrist
skipping beats, it was going so fast and her skin was cold
and clammy.

      *Dammit, this is why girls got no business with a
doujou! You didn't see a guy going into shock every time
he hadda beat th' crud outta some idiot, didja?*

      Akane gave a kind of gasping half-sob and collapsed
bonelessly against his side. Ranma turned Akane so he could
see her face.

      *Crap!*

      Akane's lips were blue-grey and her face was the
colour of curdled-cream. She was in serious trouble. No
time for a taxi and she'd never make it on the train. He had
to get her warm and dry _now_!

      The cinderblock wasteland of downtown Tokyo was
lightened by a flash of colour a few blocks away and Ranma
could make out 'HOTEL' in flashing neon. Scooping
Akane's limp body into his arms he dashed toward a
possible refuge.

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

      Ten years of martial arts training had hardened
Ranma's body to almost inhuman perfection but Akane was
no lightweight and sprinting three blocks with her in his
arms left him winded. He paused a moment to catch his
breath before he took a good look at his surroundings.

      *WOW!*

      Feeling like he'd wandered into another world
Ranma gawked at giant fairy-tale castles, replicas of the Taj
Mahal and two Statues of Liberty. Across the street stood a
replica of the Imperial Palace in miniature and a Giant
Panda in top-hat-and-tails. And, no matter where Ranma
looked every visible surface was covered in neon and
mirrors that turned the street into a blaze of pink, green,
purple and orange.

       Touts in shark-skin suits stood on every corner
extolling the virtues of their particular 'Leisure Hotel'.

      'DIXY INN: The Real American Experience',
Ranma read, puzzling out the confusing mix of romanji and
kanji 'Have a good time from me.'

      'Hotel Chezi Moi.'

      'Body Sonic in each bed for a natural night.'

       The flourescent ocean-scape that rippled across the
giant-TV wall began to make him a little nauseous.

      Right next door was 'Little Chapel Christmas' hotel.
He figured Akane would like the free Santa Claus pajamas
and stuffed elf with glow-in-the-dark halo that came with
each room. But the robot Santa Claus in fishnet stockings
singing "Don't Dream it, Be it!" while nailed to a cross,
gave him the creeps and his eyes darted around looking for --

      'Hotel J-Girl'

      Tastefully covered with faux front of wood and
brick giving the rustic look of a mountain retreat, assuming
a mountain lodge would be outlined in flashing pink and
yellow neon, counterpointed with red and green airplane
strobe lights.  That would have to do, and he darted into the
hotel, with Akane flopping limply in his arms. Against one
wall of the lobby was a bank of pictures, some dark, most lit
up, indicating a free room.

      _Mermaid Room_

      Nostalgically, Ranma recalled teaching the French
Ambassador's daughter to play the midnight flute in a hot
tub in Oman. Now _there_ was a girl who understood
breath control. With a sigh he rejected that choice. Being
around a couple of thousand gallons of _cold_ water from
the in-room swimming pool didn't seem like a good idea
right now.

      _First Place Indy Race_

           Checkered-flag wall painting, formula-one bed  - -

      *Hey! Bumper Cars!*

      Ranma started to select that room, then noticed a
lighted picture two rows down, below the 'Big Bed' and
'Vietnam'  rooms, showing a large heated spa in a room
made of chrome, leather and mirrors. Looking longingly at
the bumper cars he selected the spa-room instead, punching
the 'stay' button, rather than 'rest'. It was more expensive,
but Kunou was paying, he thought, walking to the bank of
elevators he could feel the fat bulge of the kendoists wallet
in his pocket. As the elevator took them up Ranma
wondered what the romanji 'Stylish SM' meant.

****
  ****

      "Quit fight'n me, ya stoopid - - " Ranma winced as
another flailing fist caught him on the shoulder.  Twisting
her arm behind her back with one hand he managed to
unfasten the last button on Akane's blouse and pull it free,
leaving her clad in panties and bra. "If we don't get ya
warmed up, you're gonna go inta shock!" Ranma stumbled,
sliding on the water slick floor as she shrugged him away.
"BAKA! You could die."

      "Let me die," Akane moaned," Wrapping her arms
around her stomach and rocking back and forth. "Just let
me - - "

      "Now, why do you want to say something stupid
like that?" Ranma asked in a soothing voice, changing his
speech to a smoother diction that invited confidences. With
his thumb and forefinger he moved the skin around her ear-
lobes in small circular patterns. Reacting to Ranma's
stimulation of her pressure points Akane's racing pulse
slowed and her blood-pressure dropped. Suddenly sleepy
she leaned back against Ranma, who subtly moved to
another nerve meridian.

      "Now, why do you want to die?"

      "I hurt him," Tears streamed down her face, cutting
a path through a mask of grime. "I _wanted_ to hurt him,
like he hurt . . .like he hurt . . ." A sob choked her.

      "Like he hurt Nabiki-san?" Ranma asked softly,
making small circles on her back with the heel of his hand.

      Dumbly she nodded, not noticing when he undid the
clasp on her brassier and tossed it on the floor with the rest
of her clothes.

      "Why does that make you feel bad?" He rested his
chin on her shoulder in a motion that looked romantic, but
whose purpose was to detect subtle variations in her Ki.

      "It was _wrong_,' she wailed, broken hearted. "A
martial artist is supposed to p p protect."

      "Well," Ranma remarked judiciously, "I think you
got that part down."

      Akane twisted in his lap to look at him in disbelief.

      "Well, Kunou . . .senpai isn't going to be causing
any trouble for a while," Ranma drawled, "and I'm pretty
sure his gang of samurai-wanna-bee's are going to be
pissing themselves wondering if the next time they try to
push the 'New' Japan, the old Japan is going to turn around
and bite them on the behind." He grinned at her
openmouthed look and, taking advantage of her confusion,
whipped her panties down and off.

      "Waaaaa," Akane squalled, hands flashing to cover
herself in the classic pose of a woman surprised. Before she
could recover and rip his head off, Ranma lowered her into
the hot water and turned on the bubble-jets.

      "Aaaaaaa," Akane hissed in pleasure as the hot
water closed around her. "So," she said after a moment, not
able to meet his eyes, "you . . .don't think I acted
dishonorably?"

      "Hmmmm . . .," Ranma propped his chin in his
hands, recalling the bleeding, sobbing, broken  Kunou laying
in his own filth. "Nah. Kunou shouldn't have touched
Nabiki in the first place. And he shouldn't have just gone off
and left her." From the corner of his eye he watched some
of the tenseness leave her eyes and decided he was on the
right track.

      "But I _enjoyed_ it," Akane protested, wanting
assurance she wasn't a monster. "I went after him and - - "

      "All Kunou had to do was apologize," Ranma
stopped her, "and maybe give a little 'gift' to Nabiki,"
maybe not so little, Ranma considered, recalling the smear
of blood he'd seen on the kitchen wall, "but Kunou
_wanted_ to fight. Hell, he threatened to go after Kasumi-
san and your pop. And when he drew steel on you," Ranma
shrugged, "he deserved whatever he got."

      "I . . .I said an awful thing," Akane said meekly.

      "Well, yeah," Ranma grimaced, "You can't go
around calling people bura. . ." his mouth twisted sourly.
"you just can't _do_ that."

      Akane nodded miserably.

      "You're going to have to apologize to Kunou for
that, probably a full temple ceremony."

      Akane nodded again, downcast.

      "Well," Ranma squeezed her shoulder comfortingly,
"just let this be a lesson to control your temper before you
get into real trouble."

      "Anyway,"Ranma decided to change the subject,
"where did you learn the Meteor-Hammer? That was a nifty
trick to pull. Something your father taught you?" he asked
casually, hoping to find out if Akane had any other little
surprises tucked away, like poison-darts or a sleeve cannon.

      "Oh, that," Akane leaned back till the bubbling
water came up to her chin.

      "Yeah, _that_!"

      "Well, Nabiki was making me watch this awful
kung-phooy movie, you know the kind," she gestured with
her hands, "where they swordfight standing on the backs of
galloping horses and run along the sides of walls?"

      Ranma nodded, then realized she couldn't see him
with her eyes closed. "Uh-huh."

      "Well, she balked at the stuff an actor was doing
with a chain, and I said she was the _only_ one doing real
martial arts, and one thing lead to another . . ." Akane
shrugged, palms out.

      "So you showed her how it was done?"

      "Not exactly. I got a chain from the doujou. And
destroyed the sitting room." She winced in memory. "It was
years before Nabiki forgave me for destroying the TV in the
middle of Godzilla vs. Monster Zero." Akane shifted to a
more comfortable position. "But it made me mad that she
wouldn't believe me, so I started practicing until I was as
good as the movie actor."

      That made sense. Of a sort. Then something
occurred to him. "Uhhh . . .how old were you when you
started practicing?"

      "Hmmmm," Akane said drowsily, "about seven."

      "Why don't you compete in weapons?"  Almost
eight years with the Meteor-Hammer? He wondered what
else he didn't know about her.

      "I'm too slow on my feet. But I demonstrate the
'Fire-Hammer' at festivals." Akane's body relaxed in the
hot water and a soft buzz slipped from her lips as she fell
asleep.

      *Oh joy!*, Ranma thought darkly, imaging Akane
swinging flaming iron pots on the end of a chain. *Do you
want your baka mashed or extra crispy?*  He suddenly
recalled Kasumi and the street-rats who'd broken in while
she was cooking.

      *Ouch!*

      What th' hell was up with these Tendou women and
burning oil?  Ranma made a firm mental note to keep Akane
away from weapons in the future. Recalling her improvised
trick with belt and scarf, he considered the possibility of
keeping her naked, but rejected that as impractical. Besides,
if today worked out as it should, he wouldn't have to worry
about her temper, for a while at least. Making sure she was
dozing, he scooped her clothes off the floor and tip-toed
into the main room.

      He pressed a button and a few minutes later there
was knock at the door. At Ranma's assent, the door
unlocked, to show a young man in the mustard-yellow
uniform of the hotel staff.

      "Take these," Ranma shoved the bundle of Akane's
clothes into the man's hands. "and get 'em cleaned an'
pressed."

      "Yes sir," the boy, whose ID read 'DAIKI',
answered crisply. He looked at the wisp of white cotton
peeking from the bundle, then at Ranma, with a knowing
leer in his eyes.

      Ranma pulled a 100 yen coin from his pocket and
flipped it in the air. "You like workin' here?" he asked,
while the coin was in the air.

      Daiki started to nod, then froze as Ranma caught the
coin and bent it in half between his thumb and forefinger.
"You like walkin' upright?" Ranma asked conversationally,
tucking the coin in the boy's shirt pocket.

      "Then don't be thinkin' no dirty thoughts." The look
in Ranma's eyes could have cut steel and Daiki felt his
knees start to buckle. "Never mind," Ranma said abruptly,
"Trash that stuff," he dug Kunou's wallet out of his pocket
and peeled off a  wad of Yen.

      "Go buy all new stuff," Ranma didn't want Akane
wearing anything this little pervert had touched. "Good
stuff," he ordered, stuffing the currency on top of the coin.
"Take the old stuff to a good store an' get a sales lady to
pick out the best they got an' use this for size. An' keep
your hands off it. Have 'em double wrap it in th' store.""
He pulled some  bills off the roll and showed them to the
pale young man. "There's fifty-thousand Yen, if you do a
good job."

      "Y . . .yessir," Daiki snapped, greed overcoming
fear. "I'll be back in less than an hour."

      "You'll be back when I ask for you," Ranma
corrected.

      "Yes. Sir." the boy answered faintly, standing at
attention until the door clicked shut, then dashing off.

      That was one problem taken care of, Ranma
thought. The door locked from the outside until you paid
the bill. Akane couldn't leave, or even get dressed, so he
had a captive audience. Now, for step two.

       Rummaging through the well stocked closet he
picked out a ruffled pajama-shirt that he judged should fall
just below the curve of Akane's buttocks.  Judiciously he
popped off a couple of buttons, then pulled it from the rack.
A beeping light announced the garment had been added to
his bill. Discarding the pants as useless he jammed the door
shut, in case Akane decided to look for other clothing.

       Tossing the bit of silk on the bed he headed for the
small en-suite kitchen and began the next phase. Heating
water in the microwave he added sugar to make simple-
syrup to which he added club-soda, juice from a whole lime
and a jigger of vodka which he got from an ever-present
vending machine set into the wall. All of this he poured over
crushed ice, then tasted. Perfect. Unless you were a regular
drinker, you'd never taste the vodka.

      Thoughtfully Ranma added another half-jigger of
spirits. Coupled with the stress of the day and the soak in
very hot water, this would leave Akane relaxed and
suggestible. Finished with his preparations Ranma took time
to look around the room carefully, and discovered why this
was the 'Stylish SM' room. Consideringly, he hefted a set of
silver- plated leg-irons, mink-lined for comfort.

****
    ****

      "Time ta get out, sleepy head."

      Akane mumbled something, then roused slightly.
Opening her eyes she squealed and jerked back to see
Ranma looming over her, holding out a glass.

      "Oh . . .oh, sorry," She blushed at having acted like
a silly girl.

      "Drink this, ya need the electrolytes."

      "Thanks." Greedily she downed the contents in two
big gulps. "That . . .that was good," Akane started to get
up, then sat back down, feeling a little woozy.

      "Ummm . . .if you'll hand me my clothes I'll get
dressed."

      "You're stuff was a mess," Ranma said, handing her
a   towel mater-of-factly. "I sent it out to be cleaned." He
watched Akane's face carefully, as she realized she had no
clothes and no money, then added casually. "I got th' hotel
to lend you a robe while you're waitin'." He jerked his
thumb at the garment he'd tossed over a chair. "I got us
sumthin' to eat. Maybe there's a movie or something on TV
while we wait."

      Rule forty-four: *Seduction is less fatiguing than
rape, plus they fix you breakfast in the morning.*

      Akane relaxed at Ranma's matter-of-fact attitude, as
he knew she would, and cautiously got out of the tub, still
feeling a little dizzy, but wonderfully relaxed after her long
soak. Drying quickly she pulled on the robe, but was
dismayed to find that it was so short that the ruffled hem
just tickled her bottom. And if she pulled it down, the
gaping top exposed the curve of her bosom.  With some
trepidation she walked into the other room, forced to take
short mincing steps to keep from exposing herself.

      "Uhhh . . .hi," she said softly, feeling suddenly shy
and vulnerable.

      "Foods over there," Ignoring the ting of pink in her
cheeks Ranma jerked a thumb at a tray of cheese and
crackers by the bed.  He made a final adjustment to the
television controls and Akane gasped as the walls of the
room seemed to vanish, replaced by breakers rolling onto a
beach at twilight.

      "This is all I can find, right now," Ranma lied,
knowing the soothing, seductive beach scene would play
until he changed it.

      "Uhhh . . .that's fine," Akane stuttered, looking for a
chair. Ranma would have been very surprised if she'd found
one after he went to the trouble of hiding them in a closet.
After a moment Akane gave up, settling on the edge of the
bed. A little experimentation showed her the only safe way
to sit was with her legs curled to one side. As long as she
didn't take any deep breaths, she should be alright.

      They sat in companionable silence for a while,
Akane nibbling on treats that Ranma off-handedly fed her as
he talked about training under Genma, making her laugh
with some of the stories he told on himself. Occasionally his
hand brushed against her bare skin and the first time this
happened she jumped as if hit with an electric shock. Since
Ranma never seemed to notice, she gradually relaxed,
finding she liked this casual intimacy. She'd never had a
'pal' before and despite being a jerk sometimes, Ranma was
nice to be around. He shifted in the bed, his thigh accidently
brushed her leg and she could feel the heat of his body
through the thin silk of his pants.

      Maybe 'nice' wasn't quite the right word. She felt
uncomfortably warm and took another sip of the wonderful
drink he kept pouring for her; Nimbu Pani Punch he called
it.

      "Is it me you hate? Or marriage in general." Ranma
asked casually, handing her a bit of cheddar as he lounged
beside her, eyes closed.

      "Whaaa . . .?" she gasped, choking as she tried to
swallow and breathe at the same time. "What are you
talking about?"

      "Jus' wonderin'," he remarked, snagging a cracker,
hiding a grin as she washed down the cheese with another
slug of 'fruit punch'.

      "I don't hate you," she said finally, feeling a little
woozy. It was so hot. She undid a button on her robe,
fanning her heated skin with the edge.

      "That's good."

      Ranma lay there in silence until Akane felt forced to
speak. "What . . .what made you bring up marriage?"

      "Nuthin'," Ranma replied. "I just guess I've been
thinkin' . . ." he trailed off and shifted away from her.
Unfortunately this caused the bed to dip and rolled Akane
against him, until the entire bare length of her leg was
pressed against him. Dimly she realized the hem of her robe
had ridden up, but she couldn't quite figure out what to do
about it.

      "Thinking?" She prompted, opening another button,
slightly aggrieved that Ranma didn't seem to be feeling the
heat.

      "Yeah," Ranma rolled toward her and she gulped as
she realized that his shirt had come open. Maybe he was
feeling the heat she thought, looking at his hard masculine
chest. "I been thinkin' that you were probably right, not to
want to marry me."

      "I was right?," Akane said, feeling a little dazed as
she breathed in his warm masculine scent. "About what?"

      "About me bein' a loser. An' a jerk."

      "You're not!" she cried, dismayed that she could
have said something so cruel. She tried to shake some sense
into him, but her muscles seemed to have turned to butter
and she only succeeded in falling on top of him.

      "You're not a jerk," she mumbled against the side of
his neck as she tried to push upright.

      "Ya don't need me," he remarked calmly, helping
her until she lay snuggled against his side. "You're a good
martial artist an' ya learn quick. You should wait until you
find some nice college boy. Someone who dresses nice and
talks good."

      "Never!" She exclaimed, hating this unknown boy
already. "I like . . .I like you!" She tried to kiss him,
showing a great deal of enthusiasm, but little technique.

      "No ya don't," he gently pushed her away until he
could look her in the eyes. "I'm not a good guy."


      Rule Seventy-one: *Confess how 'bad' you are, and
they'll think you're a saint.*

      "Yes, yes you are!"

      "I planned this," his hand swept the room, "your
clothes weren't that bad, An' I bribed the boy ta not let ya
have any clothes until I said different."

      "You did?"

      "Yeah. An' I ditched th' pants to that," he nodded at
her half unbuttoned shirt, "and popped off a couple o'
buttons."

      "Why?" Her slightly unfocused gaze held honest
puzzlement.

      " I hadda crazy idea that I could make ya fall for
me."

      "How?"

      "Well," he pulled a set of restraints from under the
bed. "I was gonna tie you to th' bed and . . .uhhhh . . ."

      Akane watched in fascination as a tinge of red crept
up from under his collar and slowly suffused his face. Then
she realized what he dangled from one hand and felt her
face heat.

      "What were you going to do?" her voice came out a
squeak.

      "Uhhhh . . ." Ranma fiddled with his pigtail. "I was
gonna . . ." he jiggled the mass of leather and metal in his
hand. "an' . . .uhhhh . . .I was gonna . . .
teasyauntilyabeggedtomarryme," he got out in a rush.

      Akane licked suddenly dry lips, staring at the
bondage equipment in fascination. "Can you . . .is that . .
.how . . .?"

      "Heh," Ranma gave a nervous laugh. "Well, uhhh . .
. when ya' can't move I can sorta . . .uhhhh . . .using
pressure points an' . . . .uhhhh . . .after a while ya can't
stand it no more. And then . . .uhhh . . .I was gonna," he
gulped, his face turning a fiery red, "I was gonna . . .I was
gonna make love to ya until you passed out. An while you
were all kinda sleepy and confused I was gonna take us to
th' wedding chapel downstairs and marry you." He pulled a
slightly crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and thrust
it at Akane. "You probably better keep this."

      "It's a marriage license," she peered at the paper,
which seemed a little blurry.

      "Yeah, your Pop and mine got it right after we got
there. I kinda been holdin' on to it . . .well, I just been
holdin' on to it." He rolled off the bed and went to the
phone. "I better call about your clothes and we can go.
Sorry about all this. It's not right of me ta' take advantage
of ya just 'cause you're a girl."

      "Wait!" she squeaked. It was so warm it was hard
for her to think. She gulped down some more fruit punch.
Things were happening too fast. She wasn't sure what she
wanted to do, but . . . "Just wait a minute," she begged,
holding her head in her hands. Something peculated through
her sluggish brain. "Wha . . .what do you mean jush . . .just
a girl!" She lurched to her feet, then fell back on the bed.
"I'm a mar-shal . . . mar-shel . . . I can fight!" She glared
blearily at Ranma. "I accept your challenge!"

      "What challenge?" Ranma said easily.

      What challenge? Akane blinked, mind working.
"Uhhhh . . . what makes you think I'd fall for _you_!" She
snapped her fingers at him, but they slid soundlessly across
one another. She stared, puzzled, at her fingers, trying
several more times before giving up the effort. "You've
have a lot of nerve," she enunciated carefully, "think . . .ing
that you can beat me so easily."

      "What are you saying?" Ranma asked, his voice very
neutral.


      Rule eighty-eight: *Always make them think it was
their idea to give you the deed to the ranch and their virgin daughter.*

      "I . . ." what was she saying? She wished he
wouldn't lean so close, it made it hard to think. She took a
gulp of punch in an effort to clear her head. "I . . ."

      "You think you wouldn't fall for my technique? That
you could resist me, no matter what I did?"

      "That's rike . . .right!" she said brightly, glad that
she'd taken the time to explain it all to him. "No matter
what you did."

      "Okay."

      Okay!" she agreed. "Uhhhh . . .Okay what?"

      "If you lose, you have to marry me."

      "Marry . . .what?" She wanted to lie down. The
room was spinning and she couldn't quite figure out . . .

      "I'll try to seduce you." Ranma said softly, his
breath against her skin making her shiver. "If I win, you
have to marry me. Now. Today."

      "But . . ." her mind felt squishy and it was hard for
her to think. But one very important thing did come to
mind. "How . . .how do we know who . . .who won?"

      "Well," he trailed the back of his fingers along the
outside of her leg, "How about this. I have to make you beg
me to make love to you."

      "Wh . .what?" she gulped the last of the punch.

      "You're right. That's too easy."

      "Why you - - " she was momentarily paralyzed with
outrage. That was the only thing that saved his life. She
couldn't believe she had ever thought she lo - - liked this
  . . . this _boy_!

      "You've got to beg three times. I think that's fair."
Akane could hear the 'even for a girl like you' in his tone of
voice and her blood began to boil.

      "Why you . . .I accept your challenge."

      Ranma looked at her a moment, then burst out
laughing.

      "What's so funny?"

      "If you could have _seen_ your face!" he sobered at
her look. "I'm sorry. I was just kiddin'."

      "Kidding!" She was so angry she thought she was
going to explode. "Kidding!"

      "Yeah. It ain't fair to ask you ta do something like
that. Just because I lo - - it ain't right to ask you to get
married just because you lose a bet."

      Akane caught his almost slip and flushed, feeling
whipsawed by her emotions. "You lo - - what makes you
think I'd lose?"

      "It ain't your fault. Girls are just . . .they can't resist
mushy stuff, that's all." he explained, not unkindly. "They
just ain't built for it like guys are. It wouldn't be fair."

      "Not built . . .resist . . .girls . . ."Akane stuttered in
her fury. "Alright. What do I get if - - when I win?"

      "Huh?" Ranma seemed stunned for a minute.
"Alright, what do you want?"

      "Uhhhhh . . ." Akane froze, unable to think of
anything. She stared at him, trying to come up with
something he might have. But the more she looked, the
more she
  wanted . . . she shook her head violently, trying to rid
herself of an unwanted image of licking Ranma like an ice
cream cone. "I . . .when I win, I'll want you to do
something for me."

      "What?" Ranma asked interestedly.

      "I don't know. Something."

      "Alright. If you win, I'll do whatever you ask me to,
if I can."

      "Alright." Akane paused. "Uhhhh . . .Now what?"

      "Now?" Ranma smiled and Akane shivered at the
look in his eyes, wondering why she felt this funny little
flutter in her tummy. "Just lie back and relax."

      Akane did as requested and felt something go
around her right wrist with a click. She jerked away, only to
be brought up short by the manacle securing her to the wall.
While she was distracted Ranma quickly pulled her left arm
taut and secured it to the opposite eye-bolt.

      "Just relax," Ranma said soothingly as he slid down
the bed to take both of her ankles in his hand. Gently he
separated her legs, buckling a broad leather band attached
to a chromed steel bar to each ankle. A similar bar was
fastened to her knees, and a final, thicker if shorter bar
secured her thighs.

      "Comfortable?" he asked solicitously.

      Comfortable wasn't the word she would have
chosen. She gingerly tugged on the chains holding her arms.
There was tiny metallic rattle, but it felt like the other end
was bolted to bedrock and she couldn't budge. The cool
leather around her ankles had quickly warmed and softened,
but the steel bars held her powerful legs apart, as if she were
imbedded in concrete, making her feel helpless and
vulnerable.

      "Uhhhh . . .sure. Not a problem." she hoped there
wasn't a quaver in her voice. She was going to show him - -
"What are you _doing_!" she shrieked, jerking up, going
only a fraction of an inch before being yanked back down
onto the mattress by her bonds.

      "Just testing," Ranma replied blandly, running a
finger-nail lightly around the tender skin under her knee.
"You can't move at all, can you?"

      "Uhhhh . . .no," she replied in a very small voice.
She was beginning to think this had been a mistake. When
Ranma pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside, she was sure
of it.

      Ranma propped himself on one elbow beside her,
the grin fading from his face as he took in her look of deadly
serious concentration.

      "Ummmm . . .you should have gone before we got
started." he said after a moment of contemplative silence.

      "I don't have to - - -just get on with it Akane
snapped." glaring at him fiercely.  Well, as fiercely as
possible when you're tied naked to a bed and have suddenly
realized that perhaps you shouldn't have had that last glass
of punch.

      "Yes you do," he teased, "fortunately this bed has a
rubber mattress cover." He took advantage of her gasp of
outrage to lower his mouth over hers for a teasing kiss. She
didn't seem to have any idea of what to do with her lips or
teeth or tongue. And she almost bit his tongue off by
accident. What he hoped was an accident.

      "Ummm," he pulled back, eying her narrowly, "you
_have_ done this before?"

      "What? Kissed?" She laughed, scornfully.
"Certainly, dozens of times. Hundreds."

      Eying her skeptically he thought that might be true,
depending on how many uncles and maiden aunts she had.
"How many boys have you been with. Kempo competition
doesn't count." He added quickly as she opened her mouth
to answer. There was silence.

      "None?" he said weakly. "Just a quick slap and
tickle in the locker room?"

      Akane stared stonily at the ceiling.

      "Ummmm . . ." how to put this, he wondered,
"when I said I was going to tease you until you begged . . .
what are you going to beg for?"

      Akane bit her lip, blushing slightly.

      *Oh boy* "When I said we were going to make . . .
uhhhh . . .do you know where babies come from?"

      "Oh yes," Akane said, happy at knowing the answer
to a question. "The hospital."

      Ranma felt his jaw drop as Akane burbled on, in a
vodka induced euphoria.

      "Papa told me all about it. When a man and a
woman love each other Kami-sama blesses them with a baby
that combines their love and then - - -"

      "Do you," he stopped her with a finger against her
lips, "Know anything about . . .sex?"

      "Ohhhhh," Akane said, understanding dawning. "Of
course.  Moeko always lets me read her Doujinshi when
she's through with them."

      "Oh, well, that's fine," Ranma started, feeling
relieved. Pornographic manga were great teaching aids.
Then he remembered that Doujinshi were - -

      " . . .know all about 'throbbing man-meat' and
'velvet covered steel' and 'going in the back door' and . . ."

       - - -homoerotica.

      "Are you feeling alright," Akane asked, suddenly
concerned.

      "Just a little headache," Ranma mumbled from
where he held his head in his hands. *A _virgin_! Pops, I'm
gonna kill you!*

*****
    *****


      *I can do this*, Ranma thought, resisting an urge to
wipe beads of sweat off his brow. *She's naked. Tied to the
bed* he ran a practiced eye over Akane's taut young body,
stretched out on display, hard muscles shifting and sliding
under the skin as she shifted restlessly under his probing
gaze. But all her strength, all her training was useless, tied
as she was.  His gaze drifted lower, toward the nest of curls
that protected her secret place and grinned as she squeaked
in embarrassment, trying to bring her legs together.

      Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Taking a deep
breath he decided he'd treat this like he was learning a new
technique. Virgin-fu? The Cherry-fist?

      "W . . .what's so funny?" Akane asked nervously as
Ranma suddenly chuckled.

      "Nothing," he grinned, laying back beside her. "I'm
not going to hurt you," he reassured her, trailing a teasing
finger down her ribs, smiling as she squealed and giggled.
"If I hurt you, I lose." He wiggled his fingers under her ribs
again and she jerked as if she'd been shot. "Ssss . .heeee . .
.stop!"

      "Not ticklish are you?"

      "NO . . .no I'm not. Not at all," Akane said hastily.

      "Ummm . . .a lot of people think they aren't ticklish.
Until they're helpless and tied-up," he traced a delicate line
around her neck and was rewarded with a giggle. "And then
they find they're just giggly little girls." He spider-walked
his fingers feather light along her belly, which went granite-
hard with her effort to hold back her giggles.

      "Doooo . . .ddddd . . .heeeeeee . . .don't DO that!"
Akane begged, thrashing against her bonds. "I don't like it."

      "Yes you do," Ranma contradicted, "You like it a
lot."

      "I don't!" She wailed, bursting into laughter as he
teased a tender spot under her knee.

      "This little fellow say different," he flicked one rock-
hard nipple with the end of his finger and was rewarded
with a full throated scream as Akane's body formed a
perfect bow as she arched off the bed. Picking himself off
the floor Ranma shook his head, a bit dazed, and watched as
Akane vibrated in the throes of a powerful climax.
Tentatively he moved to her side and placed a soft kiss just
above her knee. Even though he was ready for it, she almost
took his head off as she came off the bed in another
convulsive climax.

      *Damn!* he thought, amazed as she continued to
quiver under a series of micro-orgasms. *Bondage as safe-
sex!* Safe for him at least. He was quite certain that if she
hadn't been tightly secured that first climax would have
hospitalized him. *Am I good, or what!*

*****
    *****

      "Please," Akane moaned, thrashing uselessly against
her bonds. "Please - - "

      "Please, what?"

      She shivered as Ranma ran an ice-cube between her
breasts.

      "Please . . .mmmmphhh . . ." she sucked in her
breath as he teased her navel with the melting ice. "P . . .
pppplease  - - "

      "Say it, or this is goin' south," he drew a teasing line
with the ice.

      "MMM . . .aster," she burst out, "Please Master,"
She gasped as he teased the vulnerable junction between her
legs. More vulnerable since he'd spent a leisurely hour with
a razor and some scented oil, leaving her as smooth and
bare as a ten-year old. Then she'd discovered the oil's other
properties as it began to drive her mad, weeping and
begging for relief from the burning tickling sensation. Relief
she'd been denied. That had been the first.

      "That didn't sound very sincere," Ranma nibbled her
lower lip, then teased her mouth open with his tongue."

      "Please, Master. Please," tossing her head back and
forth on the sweat soaked pillow her entire universe was
focused on the maddening, devil-angel above her and his
deliciously wicked hands.

      "Will you marry me?" he asked, fingers of his right
hand teasing the sensitive folds that hid her feminine secrets.
Weakly she tried to bring her knees together in defense, but
her body wasn't willing to put up with that sort of nonsense
from her brain and parted eagerly at his touch. Do you want
me to love you?" He teased the entrance to her garden-of-
delights, gently knocking at the gate, and she groaned,
lifting off the bed in an effort to capture him. But he was
free to move away, maintaining a feather-light touch that
made her insane.

      "YES!" she screamed in frustration. "Yes, yes, yes,"
she begged weeping. "Anything. I'll do anything!" Three
times she'd begged, and this time he rewarded her. Filling
her, completing her, and it was wonderful, more wonderful
than anything she could have imagined.

*****
    *****

      Akane woke with a groan, feeling like the time she'd
discovered that breaking concrete blocks with your head is
harder than it looks on TV.  Her mouth tasted like the inside
of a locker room and she ached in places she was quite sure
good girls shouldn't know they had. Making a face she
started to go  brush her teeth, only to be brought up with a
jerk.

      "What!" She glared at the chains on her wrists, then
fell back with a groan as she remembered. Everything. *I
must have been _crazy_!* A rasping sound, like a band-saw
cutting through sheet-metal got her attention and Akane
twisted around to see Ranma, snuggled up against her, one
arm around her chest, the other nestled between her legs,
cupping her possessively. She felt her body burn as more
and more details returned.

      He had . . .and then she had . . .but then they both . . .

       *Oh boy.*

      Then she remembered what had happened next - -

       *Oh BOY!*

      - - and next, and next . . .and then things got a little
hazy as she lost consciousness.  Akane felt a big grin split
her face and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't wipe
it off.

       She wanted a hug.

      "Ranma," she whispered softly. "Ranma-chan?" She
rattled her chains and nudged him with her hip. "Ranma!

       RANMA-NO-BAKA!"

      Ranma flopped over on his back, as inert as if he'd
been knocked over the head.


      *Dammit!* Akane fumed. She wanted to snuggle
and the inconsiderate jerk was sleeping like a baby. A really
big, noisy baby who drooled onto his pillow and was
equipped like a Bahama-bull.   Sleeping when she wanted a
hug. She really had to pee, too.

      Frustrated, Akane yanked at her manacles, but they
wouldn't budge. And the spreader bars on her legs left her
splayed like a star-fish and just as helpless. If she could only
get some leverage . . .a slow smile crossed her lips and she
bent at the waist, bringing the bar that secured her ankles
within reach of her manacled hands.

      Three spreader bars of tubular aircraft aluminum and
hardened steel manacles were somewhat overkill in most
bondage scenes.

      Brow furrowed in concentration, Akane began to
straighten her bowed body. Tiny bits of ceiling tile flaked
off and fell like snow as a mere reenforced-concrete wall
shuddered under the strain and tubular aluminum slowly
horseshoed with a tiny moan.

      But most people didn't alternate five-thousand Roman
Chair situps  with lower-back extensor exercises seven days a
week, holding a thirty-kilo weight over their head.



*****
  *****

      "Time to wake up sleepy head," a gentle voice
cooed in his ear.

      "Five more min's Pop," he mumbled into his pillow,
batting at the voice.

      "If you do this sort of thing with your father, you're
more perverted that I thought."

      Ranma jerked up, like he was spring operated.

      "And I think you're pretty perverted." Akane
handed Ranma a cup of coffee, her face expressionless, then
retreated to the far side of the room.

      Looking at the foot of the bed Ranma could see bent
and twisted aluminum bars, one snapped in half, laying in a
tangle of torn leather bands. Wildly he looked for the
manacles, finding them twisted into ruin, chunks of concrete
and rebar still attached to one short length of chain. Were
those _teeth_ marks? He looked up to see Akane smiling at
him, showing a row of small, white _strong_ teeth, and he
gulped nervously.

      "You put something in my drink, didn't you," Akane
asked, rhetorically. "When I woke up I felt like I did after I
got into daddy's 'medicine' when I was little."

      "Urrrrk!" Ranma replied, intelligently.

      "Drink your coffee," Akane ordered and he gulped
the scalding brew, wondering briefly if she'd mistaken
furniture polish for the coffee. Over the rim of his cup he
watched her stretch, then move forward with the ponderous
grace of a tigress, muscles rippling like corded steel under
her skin.

       "You got me drunk," Akane took a step and Ranma
scooted back on the bed, trying to marshal his sleep fuddled
thoughts. "Got me naked," another step, and her eyes
narrowed measuringly. For a burial shroud? Ranma
wondered shakily. "Tied me to the bed," her voice was a
husky growl, "made me _beg_," Ranma saw his life pass
before him and realized it was much too short. Especially
the last couple of hours. "BEG," she hissed, and he could
smell mint on her breath, "Call you _master_, - - "

      "I can explain," Ranma said weakly, trying to think
of something that would buy him time to get to the door.
Then remembered it was locked from the outside.

       *oh shit*

      Akane leapt, her naked form a blur as she tackled
him and he wondered if it would hurt much when she ripped
off his arms and legs.

      "And I LIKED it!" She grinned an _evil_ grin. And
as she straddled his trussed form Ranma realized Nabiki and
Akane had watched at least one movie featuring Hojojutsu,
the feudal art of restraining prisoners, quickly, with rope.

*****
    *****

      "Sir?" Daiki knocked timidly on the door. He didn't
want to do this, but there had been reports of screams and
the manager insisted he check. He dangled the bag of
clothes, from the most expensive boutique in Tokyo, from
one hand as he unlocked the door and pushed it open a
crack.

      "Hi!"

      He jumped as the door was pulled out of his hand,
to reveal a naked girl. A _very_ naked girl, he saw, as his
eyes were involuntarily drawn to the smooth junction
between her thighs.

      *ohgodohgodohgod*

      "What's this?" The girl snagged the bag from his
finger.

      "I didn't see anything, I swear I had my eyes
closed."

      'Ohhhh . . .pretty," a husky voice cooed and he
opened his eyes to see the girl holding a blouse against her
chest. Which had the fortunate result of framing her
nakedness below the waist.

      "Gaaaa!" Paralyzed, Daiki watched as she turned her
back on him and walked back into the room, her buttocks
twin spheres of hard muscle that shifted and rolled
hypnotically.

      She could crush him like bug between thighs like
young trees, hold him helpless as a child with an arm bigger
around than both his skinny little legs while she squeezed
the life out of him with two fingers.

      *Life is good* Daiki thought, tears of gratitude to
kami-sama leaking from his eyes.

      "Here!"

      Daiki's  eyes snapped open, forcing him from a
beautiful fantasy where a muscular goddess forced him to
kneel, naked except for a puce rubber shower cap with
yellow daisies, and lick fish paste from her vinyl-boots.

      "I need you to run another errand," His goddess
handed him a bundle of rags, that looked like a pair of pants
and shirt ripped up to form crude ropes. "Go get a pair of
pants and a shirt," she rattled off sizes as she handed him a
thick wad of bills. "You don't need to worry about
underwear." she added. "Oh, and can you bring some
food?"

      Daiki nodded and she handed him another wad of
Yen. At this rate he'd be able to move out of his parents
house.

      "How about a couple of steaks, crisp on the outside
and pink in the middle?" He nodded. "Two large salads, lots
of fresh tomatoes . . .uhhh . . .and two giant vanilla malts
with chocolate sprinkles."

      There was a faint mewling sound, like a kitten
caught in a tree and Daiki peered around into the room.
Bent backward over a padded roller was the nude form of
the boy he'd met earlier. Thick leather straps and purple
hemp ropes criss-crossed his form until the only thing that
could move where his eyes. Those stared pleadingly over a
thick gag. And, standing proudly from a thick nest of downy
hair - -

      Daiki gulped, feeling suddenly inadequate. Was that
even _real_?

      "Oh," the naked goddess glanced over her shoulder,
then back at Daiki. "I almost forgot . . . and two . . .no, three dozen raw
oysters. And a case of Super Ginko Power drink." she
blushed faintly, "and anything else you think might be good
for . . . endurance."

      There was a muffled wail of despair, that Daiki felt
was best to ignore. "And, don't hurry about the pants and
shirt. We won't need them until tomorrow . . .afternoon."

      He didn't hear weeping, Daiki decided, hurrying to
do his goddesses bidding.

*****
    *****


      "Hmmmm," Akane rummaged through what she'd
dubbed the 'toy chest', pulling out what looked like a tiny
plastic phallus, ignoring the little beeping light that charged
the cost to the room account. Turning it over in her hands
she jumped with a little squeak when it started vibrating
with a musical buzzing sound.

      "Oooooo, now what can we do with this?" Akane
asked rhetorically, since all Ranma could do was
'mmmmph' frantically through his gag, shaking his head as
Akane moved to stand over him. Trailing a possessive hand
over his chest, she delighted in the feel of his muscles
quivering under her touch and the pleading look in his eyes.

      "Poor baby," Akane cooed, sympathetically. Ranma
felt an instant of relief, before he realized she wasn't talking
to him. Or, not all of him, at least. "I bet you're getting
bored."

      Ranma swallowed hard behind his gag as Akane
stared at him, like a starving lioness might stare at a
particularly tender baby fawn.

      "Now, what should we do next?"

      Akane's eyes lit up as she recalled a Doujinshi she'd
read, "Licorice Whip and Lolly-Pop Sunday".

      Using the universal remote she went quickly through
the scroll-down music menu until she found what she
wanted. Making her selection, she knelt between Ranma's
thighs, bringing the tiny plastic toy to life with a buzz as
music began to play. She'd thought the manga was pretty
funny at the time, but that was before - - -

      Ranma gave out a strangled groan, his body
quivering in exquisite torment as Akane boldly went where
no one had gone before.

      *Lollipop, lollipop, oh lolli lolli . . .*

      Breath control was the secret, Akane decided.

      *I call him Lollipop lollipop

                  Oh lolli lolli  . . .*

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