Quick Preliminary notes:
I've done a reformat, re-edit, minor re-write of Learning Curve. In
short, this involved the correcting of a number of grammatical and
plot alterations, and the breaking up of the long chapter system. The
nine completed chapters have been broken up into 27 smaller chapters.
New segments (like part 28) will be released in this new format, which
should be easier to read through. Now, it has been a while since I
first posted 'Learning Curve' on the FFML - more than a year, at
least. Given the changes I've made, the reformatting, (the extinction
of my old Learning Curve emails when I upgraded to XP), and that
legnth of time, I feel its justified to repost it all from the
beginning. "Comments. Criticism. An author craves these things."

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



Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to
her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. The story below is
for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially.
...Obviously.


"Learning Curve"
        Part I     (v1.3)

by:   J. Wagner


As the darkened sun slowly set, a cold wind blew through the city.
Admiring his view over the buildings, if only in passing, a young man
sighed, taking in the image. It would begin to snow soon, he knew,
like a now instinctive warning claxon from deep within his
subconscious. It was going to be biting, probably mixed with sleet...
but it wouldn't be rain. And if it wasn't rain, weather was really of
no concern to him. Shrugging the weight off his shoulders slightly,
and adjusting his well work cloak, the man hissed a silent and foreign
curse between his lips, and kept walking. Shelter for the night would
be preferable to simply keeping going, as he had the last two days,
without sleep, especially in light of the coming storm. Checking the
skyline, and the nearest buildings, he snarled. If he was where he
suspected he was...

Finding what looked to be a somewhat knowledgeable passerby, he bowed
his head slightly in difference, and took an educated guess as to the
appropriate language.

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

The man paused, giving the questioning man in the heavy wool cloak and
oversized backpack a disbelieving look. He was, obviously, a foreigner
due to the accent, though his grasp of the language was excellent.
But, how could anyone not know where, at least generally, they were?
Briefly toying with the idea that this was some kind of practical joke
or the like, the man finally decided to play along, and shrugged.

"<Moscow. Why?>"

"<Moscow... that's what I was afraid of. This may sound unusual, but
which way to Tokyo, Japan?>"

The man pointed in the general direction of east, and answered,
"<East. That way.>"

The cloaked foreigner seemed serious, and lowered his head a bit more,
letting dark, heavy bangs cascade over his eyes, obscuring them behind
a veil of black. The wind kicked up again, and the ends of the
stranger's orange and black striped bandanna flittered slightly over
his tip of shoulder.

"<Thank you.>"

There was a tangible feeling of depression and darkness, just then,
prompting the man to dismiss any thoughts of this being a joke.
Quickly excusing himself, he left the foreigner behind at an almost
desperate pace. Watching him go, Ryouga Hibiki narrowed his eyes in
silent, burning frustration. Heading east would have to wait until
morning. He was still in mainland Asia... this came as both a relief
and as a blow to his pride. How could he have wandered halfway to
Europe and not known it?! Sure... the nights had been getting longer,
and the terrain and weather colder. And the people...

"Damn it," he finally decided on saying. Self-loathing, while a
popular Hibiki pass-time, wasn't productive at the moment, either as a
motivational factor, or simply as something to pass the time between
time zones pondering over. He had to find shelter, and this far into
Russia, only Rubles would do, no matter how devalued they were. The
only other option being American currency, which he kept for
emergencies because it was accepted almost everywhere, but the current
exchange rate was a mystery, and Ryouga didn't like his chances of
being cheated out of his backup cash.

"You're running away," hissed a small accusing voice, before being
summarily ignored. So he walked, randomly, though the streets. The
city had a vibrant nightlife that was, just now, coming out in numbers
to dominate the alleys and streets of Moscow. Then, Ryouga saw it - a
Dojo. Well... actually, it was a Systema Hall, going by the sign, only
ten minutes away from closing. Challenging the master, traditionally,
for a day's stay or some food was part and parcel of the mystique and
lifestyle of the traveling martial artist. Far be it for him to pass
up on such an opportunity.

Quickly deciding this was the best chance for some room and board he
was going to get, Ryouga stepped inside, his eyes taking in the layout
instantly; his stance adjusting slightly for any possible attacks from
any of the remaining students. Adjusting his well-worn old traveling
gloves, and smiling, Ryouga decided to stay a few days. Systema was a
very flexible and powerful school... it would be useful when the time
came for fulfillment.

And for revenge.

The battle was brief, and Ryouga decided to spend the next day
observing the school's best students as they sparred. It was a welcome
and productive distraction from the past... from the duel: from what
passed for a life. As a lull in the action came, despite his best
efforts, Ryouga felt his mind wander onto where it all went wrong. Or
right, depending on one's point of view.

It had begun over a few months ago, back in Japan. He had returned to
Nerima after two weeks of training, alone, in the mountains - the
journey had been difficult, and the hardships great. It had been an
emotional and physical peak, then, almost like a high. It had taken
another week and a half; time wholly wasted, to get back to Tokyo, and
by then...

Clenching his fist, Ryouga closed his eyes in shame.

By that time, Ranma had been training with Cologne in the Amaguriken.
He hadn't had a chance, of course, so in retrospect his humiliation
wasn't as great, but retrospective analysis never dulled the pain, or
the anger, or the raw seething rage. If only... Ryouga stopped himself
before that thought could complete itself. If the mind wanted to dip
into that barrel of excuses, it may as well start with 'If only Ranma
had showed up for our duel.' Or 'If only Ranma had... no, if only I
had been more careful.' Or as far as 'If only I hadn't played as P-
chan for so long.' It was, ultimately, a futile and fruitless exercise
in frustration and anger; two things Ryouga knew he already had in
terrible abundance. Still, Ryouga admitted, watching the students
watching the sensei, did not a wise man say, 'Learn from the past?'

Damn him, if he wasn't right.

***

The Past

"I'm ready to go whenever you are," Ryouga said, shouldered his pack,
and looked around the interior of the Nekohanten. The dinner crowd had
long since left, and the place was empty, except for Shampoo, who
seemed to be cleaning the cafe table. Cologne had told him to wait,
and given his propensity for getting lost, and more importantly, his
desire to avenge his earlier humiliation the results of which would
undoubtedly lie in whatever the old bat had to teach, Ryouga wasn't
eager to test his luck. The waiting and the silence weren't a problem,
really; he was more than used to them - they were more like parents
than his actual parents, wherever they were. The last he'd heard, his
father thought his mother was somewhere in Australia, while he himself
had business in New York.

"Where you and great grandmother going, anyway?"

"Eh?" The question came from the cafe, and Ryouga opened one eye, as
if the speaker really needed visual confirmation. Shampoo asked again,
before he answered, simply, honestly, "Training."

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

"Stupid pig-boy never beat Airen."

"The old woman would only train me if she thought I had a chance of
beating Ranma. You should know that," Ryouga returned. Ryouga's brows
furrowed, as he bit back the anger, even if she was currently 100%
right on the issue. Shampoo was conspicuously silent, so he decided to
throw a little more in. "Besides. You're too weak to form an educated
opinion. Ranma beat you by accident."

Shampoo visibly bristled, and a part of Ryouga instantly regretted
saying that, not because she was angry, which was just the reaction
he'd hoped to provoke, but because he was sure she was hurt, too. It
wasn't like he had a problem with Shampoo, he was just feeling
particularly short tempered and eager to snap at someone. He didn't
know her very well, but it was likely her Amazon pride was still
hurting from that little incident Ranma had shared with him and the
rest of the Tendo Clan. In a way, he really pitied the girl,
especially after the way Ranma had tricked her into leaving soon after
she'd shown up.

Ryouga could literally feel her glare on him, but ignored it when the
faint tap-tap of Cologne's walking (hopping?) stick signaled the
ancient Amazon's entrance. Pushing off from the wall with his
shoulders, eyes still closed, he was silent. Cologne watched him
adjust the pack on his shoulders with practiced ease and go through
some unknown mental preparations.

"Watch the store while we're gone, Shampoo," she spoke over her
shoulder. "I'll only be gone a week or so."

"You really going train lost boy?" Shampoo, still angry over being
called 'weak,' decided to press the issue. "He probably get lost on
way there."

Ryouga growled under his breath, and Shampoo continued, "Shampoo come,
too. Help keep lost boy not lost. Training trip make up for lost plane
tickets."

More importantly, Shampoo thought to herself, was to learn whatever he
was going to learn. It wouldn't do for people to go around thinking
she was weak.... Besides, if Ryouga thought that of her, Ranma
probably did too.

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

"A fine idea, Shampoo," Cologne said in a neutral tone, "Get your
things. We can wait a few minutes."

"She won't get in the way, will she?" Ryouga asked, after waiting a
few seconds for Shampoo to leave the room. He didn't need to add that
he was referring to the inevitable fight between Ranma and himself. He
had seen Shampoo doting over Ranma before, and it had interrupted
their skirmishes previously. This one was the most important to date -
taking Shampoo along was a risk.

"Are you saying you'd be unable to deal with that?" Cologne answered
in a roundabout way, and Ryouga huffed in obvious dismissal. The
ancient Amazon smiled at that. A poke at male pride could accomplish
more than a thousand blows to the cranium... in most cases. Taking
Shampoo along was actually looking more and more like a good idea: she
would provide additional motivation. Ryouga had as much pride as her
son-in-law, and he would do anything to avoid looking weak in front of
any girl, even one he had no connection to, like Shampoo. Furthermore,
Shampoo could cook; freeing her from having to do so, and it might
even encourage her great granddaughter to rededicate herself to the
Arts of her tribe.

Shampoo was an excellent and skilled warrior, the finest of her
generation, but Cologne had noticed an obvious and disturbing dip in
her skills since she left the village to pursue the pig-tailed girl
who was actually a pig-tailed boy. Almost certainly, it was due to her
reversal from revenge to love, and the lack of any serious opponent in
that respect. Akane Tendo was nowhere near skilled or strong enough to
fight Shampoo and win, additionally Shampoo had given up trying to
kill Ranma, and as a consequence, by the time she returned home in
disgrace, her skills had atrophied to the level they were at when she
turned 15, well over a year ago. The training at Jyusenkyou had been
essentially a disaster, and had cemented Shampoo's decision to 'cut
down' on Cologne's recommended training regimen in favor of returning
to court Ranma, for which additional fighting skills were unnecessary.


Worse was the Mousse situation. Damn that male... Cologne knew he was
fast, skilled, and strong enough to defeat Shampoo, and had been for a
little over two years, but he refused to do so. Her dislike for him
had only developed after she realized that he could beat Shampoo, but
never did so. It was a terrible insult, both to Shampoo and to
herself, that could not be ignored. His showing up recently only made
things worse. Shampoo, of course, felt she could defeat him in battle,
should the opportunity arise, and worked to drive home her
determination NOT to improve herself. Cologne would have cursed
silently at the situation, and almost did on occasion, because there
was no easy solution to the problem.

What Shampoo needed was an appropriate rival, something to motivate
and encourage her to mature, but Cologne had no idea where to find
one.

***
The Present

    "Saotome! Prepare to DIE!"

    "Aw, geez, man! Not again!" The martial artist in question, well
acquainted with that particular battle cry, jumped to the side as the
ground beneath him splintered and cracked. Twisting, he faced the
young man crouched below him, one hand's clenched fingers dug into the
broken asphalt, and the other behind his back. Fluidly, as he stood
up, the boy drew out a long, wide bladed weapon Ranma had become
altogether too familiar with over the last few weeks. The razor's edge
of the giant spatula caught the light as the weapon's wielder smirked,
and lowered into a modified crouch, one hand forward.

    "Time to pay for your crimes, Saotome!"

    "I'm getting sick and tired of you attacking me!" Ranma landed
easily on the top of a nearby building. "What's your problem, anyway?"

    "You'll find out..." The boy hissed between clenched teeth, and
took to the air, "Right before I send you to HELL!"

    Ranma growled something under his breath, before rolling backwards
and avoiding losing his head to the unusual weapon. Keeping mobile, he
pushed off with his shoulder at the first opportunity. Looking over to
the side, only for a half second, he saw the still quivering handle of
a mini-spatula wedged cleanly halfway into one of the roof's tiles
where he had been headed prior to his misdirection. Spinning in
midair, arms out, he then deflected the next of the projectiles, and
pined down Ukyou's position where he was quickly readying another of
the things. Letting his inertia carry him, he extended his right leg -
hoping to end it this quickly was probably foolish, but a protracted
fight now, this early in the morning, would make the rest of the day a
real hassle.

    A wall of steel seemed to disagree.

    Landing on both feet, Ranma lowered his arms from the block,
silently cursing at the pain before dismissing it. Ukyou stood, his
giant spatula held in a post-strike pose, before quickly shifting into
a cross-handle attacking position. Ranma braced himself; he always
used that position to attack with his main weapon - in a way, it was
like fighting Kuno, except Ukyou was as skilled without his blade as
with. Making a split second decision to move in quick, and try to
disarm him, Ranma ducked at the last second, spun, and dug a sharp
elbow into his opponent, before reaching up and grabbing the handle of
the weapon itself.

    "Ha!" He felt a rush of confidence and power, as he gave the
weapon a hard jerk. Ukyou was good, but not as strong as he was - the
other boy had no hope of winning now. He might as well give up and
leave. Bringing up his left leg to block a counter blow, Ranma amended
that, and returned one of his own, catching the boy in the lower ribs.
Ukyou gave a snarl, and another tug at the weapon, before seemingly
closing his eyes in defeat.

    "Good! Now give me the..." Ranma's voice became a squeak, as a
fist buried itself in a very... intimate part of his anatomy. Before
he could regain his bearings, he was airborne. The world was spinning,
but everything came into crystal clarity as his back made best friends
with a dozen roof tiles. Aside from that, the pigtailed martial artist
only wished that damn ringing in his ears would clear up.

    "Give you... what you deserve, Ranma?" Ukyou reversed his spatula
in his hands, leveling the sharpened edge to Ranma's body. "Don't mind
if I do!"

    And then the roof gave out.

    Ranma hit the ground with a thud; his attacker recovered instantly
and landed soundlessly on both feet. A tense second passed, and Ukyou
blinked at the two elderly people who had been having tea in their
living room.

"Um... hi?" Ukyou said, unsure.

    Ranma, however, would not be ignored, and a split second after the
words left Ukyou's mouth, his feet took their place, sending the
martial artist up and out of the hole in the roof. Ukyou knew what was
next - she was in the air, and the air was indisputably Ranma's
domain. The panic came quickly, and left just as quickly.
Reorientation identified where the ground was, and it was close. Then,
without preamble, the blows rained down to the chorus of...

"Kachuu Tenshi Amaguriken!"

    Ukyou hit the hard ground on her side, fighting back the urge to
pass out, and looked up. Ranma was standing above her, hurt and angry,
yes, but mostly gloating and arrogant. This battle was over, and they
both knew it. Silence would have been preferable - the silence of the
humble victor, but that thought died as Ranma's mouth curved into a
smile, and the inevitable left his lips. "Why do you keep doing this,
anyway? I always win."

    'What point is there?' Went unspoken, but sufficiently implied.

    "Liar! This is far from over!" Ukyou snarled, slowly getting back
to her feet. The smile on Ranma's face faded like cheap ink in the
ocean, and Ukyou knew, then, that though the battle had been lost, the
war was only beginning. ...That there would be a reckoning.

    What point was there? What else: to SPITE him!

    "You don't know what you're talking about." Came the response from
the heir to the Saotome School.

    "You are a liar and a thief. And this isn't over, Saotome. Not by
a long shot! I will have my revenge!" Ukyou stepped back, over the
edge of the roof, and was gone. Seeing him go, Ranma winced at the
pain from this last encounter - he'd NEVER expected another guy to do
that to him, even in a fight. What kind of a man hit below the belt,
anyway?

    "What the hell happened to you, Ukyou?" Ranma spoke far too softly
for anyone to hear, turned, and made himself scarce.

    The landing had been hell, but Ukyou shrugged off the pain.
Brushing a hand by her side, she checked to make sure that nothing was
broken, and didn't hide her relief when she found no permanent damage.
It was small compensation for her defeat; she HAD the bastard... then
she had gotten distracted. And, a small part of her whispered, she had
hesitated. It was probably natural, and truthfully, she knew that she
would when the time came, but it was unnerving nonetheless. How could
more than ten years of toil and work end in her standing over him and
then ignoring the momentousness of the moment to talk to two old
people?

    "Stupid." She leaned against the front door of 'Ukyou's Bar and
Grill.' The whole thing was stupid...

    "Hmm?" She blinked at the mailbox, standing impassively in front
of the door.  Shrugging, she reached in and was rewarded by a handful
of papers and a single package, most of which were dismissed after a
half-second review. She kept the phone bill separate - she'd check
that one more carefully later - and the second to last one. Staring at
it for a second, looking over all the stamps and the strange writing
on the otherwise plain brown-wrapped package, she wavered between
opening it outright, or waiting.

    Grinning, she tucked it under her arm.

    She had a call to make first.

***

The Past.

    Ryouga fell to the ground a crumpled, crushed heap. The battery
acid tang of blood was, by now, a familiar taste in his mouth, but he
spat it out nonetheless. Gasping, he decided a little humor wouldn't
hurt.

    "Out with the old... ugh... in... in with..."

    'Damn. I really wanted to finish that sentence, too,' he thought,
as his body somehow found the strength to roll over onto its back.
High above, mockingly, that damn boulder swayed back and forth.
Dotting it like streaks of new age paint were blotches of blood, the
newer ones a dark crimson in the cold night air, the older ones from
yesterday a shade of black. Ryouga saw a sick timeline in those
splatters of himself high above. Were they a testament to his
determination... or his stupidity?

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

    At least his memory was intact.

    Closing his eyes, Ryouga only saw the last few hours, over and
over again. Silently, he hoped that his dreams wouldn't be like this,
despite the fact that he knew better. Every impact he had dared to
close his eyes on, to try and ignore, to try and shy from, would come
back and haunt him a hundredfold when he slept. And they would keep
coming until he no longer feared that barely audible whine, that creek
in the ropes holding them both above the ground, and that sudden 'pop'
of air right before several tons of solid rock tried to turn you into
gut jam.

    It was then that he realized it.

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

    The woods didn't seem to care, so Ryouga silently cursed them to
hell (They can join Saotome there, as far as he was concerned). While
he was on that subject, he carefully pointed out and documented, for
future reference, everything in a ten-mile radius that would also be
cursed to hell. Foremost among them that damn boulder, that damn old
Ghoul, and that worthless ama...

    "You hungry?"

    'Kami bless you, Shampoo,' Ryouga thought as he coughed, to try
and get his voice back. Standing over him, he saw Shampoo: she wasn't
dressed as flamboyantly as usual, or even in the traveling clothes she
had worn yesterday. Replacing all that was a simple black shirt
(though it had some odd white dots on it here and there) and pants. He
also noted that she didn't offer her hand to help him up.

    "Very hungry, yes," he grumbled, and then rolled back, fluidly,
onto his feet and into an upright standing position. The pain was
rapidly fading, as his body and his ki went to work subconsciously. He
knew, from experience, that, by morning, after some food - almost any
food (he was used to living on dry rations and instant noodles once
every two days) he would be ready to begin anew the torture and
masochism of learning the Bakusai Tenketsu.

    "Is good. Come with me, no get lost."

She turned, and he followed. It was a short walk, relatively, into the
clearing where the Amazons had made camp. There was a stream running
by with fish, and Ryouga growled inwardly at it. Mornings he spent
trying to increase his speed and hand-eye coordination trying to catch
the fish without getting wet. It was totally infuriating, especially
after his curse activated for the fortieth time earlier in the day. In
a way, he preferred the physical pain of that damn boulder slamming
into him than the simple and undeniable frustration of the river.

    Ignoring the water, something the Jyusenkyouu cursed would
consider akin to ignoring a snarling beast on your front porch, Ryouga
took in the rest of the camp. It was plush, given what he was used to.
The old ghoul wasn't around, but who knew what that dried up old woman
did with her time anyway? His pack was lying against a large rock,
where he had left it earlier, providing a quick sense of relief that
it hadn't been lost. Some days, it seemed like he lost that backpack a
dozen times a week. There was also a large fire crackling, filling the
area with a gentle glow, and a large metal pot over it promising
something that was at least cooked. Idly, he realized he had no idea
what time it was, and then dismissed it. Time here was relative
anyway. Sitting down in front of the fire, Ryouga felt a sense of calm
and serenity, and savored it - it was such a rare feeling, simply to
let the body and the tension melt away.

    "What a day!" He inhaled deeply, and smelt the food. Sighing, he
did so again as Shampoo handed him a bowl.

    "Is plain ramen," she said, simply.

    "It... it smells good, Shampoo. Thank you." Ryouga gave a weak
smile, before beginning to eat. It may have been plain ramen, but it
was good. It was only about five seconds into eating that he realized
he hadn't checked to make sure it wasn't drugged. He regretted it at
first, given what he'd heard and some of what he'd witnessed, then
paused before he said anything. Shampoo seemed to be eating it herself
from her own bowl without any hesitation, so, in one of his brighter
moments, Ryouga kept quiet and decided if the food was drugged, he'd
just end up drugged.

    Seconds, and thirds followed in short order by the time Shampoo
had finished her first helping. Ryouga didn't then, or before,
consider himself greedy - one simply got what food one could, when one
could, regardless. To his exhausted body it was as matter of survival
now, as it was back when... back when he had showed up to the school
cafeteria, broken and hungry, so often back in his younger days. He
hadn't nearly been as good back then at hunting, salting, and
preserving meats as he was now. Then, there was just the hunger, the
food, and Ranma.

    "Curse you, Ranma." He couldn't help but growl, but kept it low.
No need to make Shampoo protective... if she attacked him in his
current state, it wouldn't be pretty. It also wouldn't be good for his
training schedule.

    "Hmm? What lost boy say?" She looked up from the empty pot,
obviously a little annoyed, and just as obviously (except to Ryouga) a
little pleased that, for once, someone ate her food without asking if
it was drugged, or if it came with favors attached. That kind of stuff
was probably just the domain of that crazy Kuno girl, and Akane's
mercenary older sister, at least in Shampoo's limited worldview.
Ryouga seemed a little nervous, before inching back against the truck
of a tree and relaxing notably.

    "Nothing." He sighed, and closed his eyes. "Goodnight, Shampoo.
...Thanks again for the food."

    Shampoo just blinked, once, and shook her head.

    "Stupid lost boy."

***

    The Present.

    Inside the restaurant, at the grill, Ukyou checked the clock for
the third time. Looking over the remaining people in the place - only
two couples staying late after eating, given the lateness of the hour
- she relaxed. The grill was cold now, but she wasn't in 'disguise,'
and had let her hair down and dressed in her much more comfortable
cooking clothes. Ranma had, about a week ago, walked in on her like
this and asked if 'Ukyou had a sister?' He hadn't shown his face here
since, for obvious reasons. The memory still boiled her blood, and she
shook it off with practiced ease. Her 'brother' would take it out on
the pig-tailed brat tomorrow. So absorbed in alternating thoughts of
vengeance and annoyance, Ukyou hadn't noticed Shampoo until she was
right in front of the grill.

    "Hey! Spatula-girl!"

    Ukyou sighed. "About time you showed up, beachball-girl."

    Shampoo smirked. "You were calling me, not other way around. What
this surprise, Ukyou?"

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

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

    "Yep. You haven't been practicing your Japanese, have you? You
know if you just went to school...."

    "Shampoo doing fine on her own! Maybe you try speak fluent
mandarin in less than two months. See how good you do."

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

    "Stupid Mousse." Shampoo ended the subject then and there. Ukyou
shrugged, reached behind the counter, and took out a medium sized
plain brown-paper package. It was, however, covered in a number of
stamps most of which looked totally foreign to both girls. The return
address wasn't even in anything recognizable. Taking one of her mini-
spatulas, Ukyou opened it carefully. There were three smaller boxes,
all neatly laid out, also wrapped, and on top of that, a single folded
postcard.

    "Is definitely from Ryouga," Shampoo said, and Ukyou just nodded.
Ryouga was one of the neatest and most organized people either girl
had ever seen - he somehow knew where everything in that massive pack
he carried was, and it was a miracle of topography that he was able to
fit everything in there in the first place. Shampoo reached down and
picked up the postcard. It was a picture of Ryouga, leaning casually
on his newest red umbrella, in front of a line of large gray-green
tanks of some sort. A building with twisting spires dominated the
background.

"Wow. Lost boy really lost this time."

    "Open it," Ukyou urged. She knew Shampoo couldn't read perfect
Japanese, and she also knew better than to say so. Deciding quickly,
Ukyou started reading out loud.

    "Ukyou, Shan Pu, I hope this letter finds you both in good health
and high spirits. Ukyou, I hope you've been giving Saotome back at
least some fraction of the Hell he has inflicted on both of us while
keeping yourself safe. I wish I could be there to watch you fight him,
but I can only hope that your training prepared for the task at hand,
and that you are still able to take out your vengeance on his
worthless hide. Remember to watch out for his tricks! He'll do
anything, say anything to win! Shan Pu, I hope Mu Tzu hasn't been
annoying you as much now, and that those books I got will help you
become more comfortable speaking in Japanese. You know I also wish you
luck in whatever you chose to do, even if it revolves around that damn
rat bastard Ranma, and even if I fear it will only bring you
heartbreak. But please, try and keep the poisons and potions to a
minimum - such is not the way of a martial artist. If either of you
are curious, I am currently in <scratched out> St. Petersburg. At
least that's what the guy here told me. Anyway, if this isn't St.
Petersburg, then I suppose you won't get this package. IF you get this
package, which you must have to be reading this, then that means I was
in St. Pete's... yeah, that makes sense. I seem to be steadily heading
west... I think, and this damn compass you got me ('I got him,' Ukyou
points out.) doesn't seem to be helping that much. I'm going to try
and catch a plane to Hong Kong again, and after that on to Tokyo. Wish
me luck. And inside you'll find some things I thought the two of you
might like. Sincerely, Hibiki Ryouga."

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

    "Shampoo see what he got her!" Shampoo picked out one of the
little boxes labeled 'Shan Pu' in mandarin, and opened it with gusto.
Ryouga sent them stuff every few weeks, and it was always a surprise
what they got. Back in the village, when she was young, Shampoo had
gotten New Year's presents, and usually something on her birthday, but
that had ended ten years ago. Ripping away the paper, she ended up
with a small box, the clear cover displaying some sort of computer.

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

    "Beeper?"

    "Probably for your delivery routes. You know, it beeps, and you
get a message from someone about stuff."

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

    "It can be pretty useful." Ukyou turned to her package, and opened
it neatly. Inside were several vacuum-sealed cans of sturgeon caviar,
and a note. "Roe Okonomiyaki?"

    "Is delicacy," Shampoo stated the obvious.

    "Could work, I guess." Ukyou picked up the last package, and
tested the weight: it was obviously a book, but was otherwise
unlabeled. Tearing off the paper, Ukyou saw the title and quickly
handed it to Shampoo, who looked at it for a second before speaking.

    "Is Russian. No can read." She shook her head.

    "Must be for his little collection here." Ukyou took it. "It'll
put it with the two Indian ones and the one in... er..."

    "Cantonese, if Shampoo remember correctly."

    "Yeah. Cantonese." Ukyou put the book away, with the three others,
in the back of the kitchen behind the grill. "You know what this
means. He's actually trying to come back now. If he catches both
planes... a virtual impossibility, I know, but if he does, he could be
here in a week."

    "If only one, probably three weeks," Shampoo said and sighed.
"Stupid lost boy."

    "He can't wander Asia forever. Sooner or later he'll get lucky and
walk onto a ship or plane or something." Ukyou closed her eyes. "He
always gets to where he wants to go... eventually."

***

The Past.

    "Again," Cologne demanded, her voice stern.

    Ryouga snarled in acceptance, ignoring his own nudity,
concentrating instead on the water. His fingers itched, oddly, as did
the muscles in his arms. Quickly, the fast flowing current resolved
into slow motion - the slow motion the world took on when there was
just survival and the fight. When the center was found, and the rest
of the universe devolved into another frame of mind. Leaning forward,
Ryouga's fists became streaks of motion, plunging into the water
faster than the eye could see, as down below, the fish just began to
panic and scatter at the intrusion. Their movements were like
molasses, however. The challenge was three fold, the first being the
coordination required to catch the fish without getting wet, the
second being to hold onto the fish and maintain a grip, again, without
getting wet, and the third being to drop the fish behind him while
still maintaining this level of speed.

    Before him, the water parted. Narrowing his eyes, Ryouga trust his
flattened palm again into the swirling vortex that was in front of
him. Droplets of water hung in the air, like an explosion of diamonds.
Mentally, Ryouga tracked them, even as he let his instincts guide his
hands through areas of already parted water, widening his palms ever
so slightly when needed to open new tunnels that would only last half
a second each. The fatigue, too, was looming over his body like a
specter, alternating between telling him to give up and urging to
rest. Of the two arguments, the second was, Ryouga knew, by far the
most deadly and dangerous. A rest, now, however tempting, would ruin
everything...

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

    He'd lost.

    "Bwee!" The pig shook its head. Over him, though not much (she's
pretty damn short) Cologne sighed, emptying the kettle over him.
Hooves grew into hands, and the tiny pig expanded into the form of a
man, the yellow and black bandanna shifting during the transformation
from neck and shoulders to forehead.

    "Damn it all," Ryouga said and slumped over, hands carving furrows
in the ground.

    "The kettle's empty," Cologne replied, confirming what he had
already suspected, and Ryouga slowly nodded. She turned; giving him
one last glance that sent sick shivers up the back of the boy's neck,
before hopping off. Shaking some of the water from his head, Ryouga
quickly toweled himself off, and with all too practiced ease, got
changed. His clothes, at least, were dry. After the first day, Cologne
had simply suggested he take them off during this part of his
training. It had been embarrassing, naturally, and Ryouga had refused
at first... but in the end, it made sense. And, given that he'd
undergone well over thirty transformations in the last two hours, it
was also more convenient.

    He paled when he remembered that Cologne had also offered to strip
down to make him more 'comfortable.'

    "Ugh. Old hag," he grumbled, wringing out his bandanna, the one
item of clothing he kept on. Letting out a deep breath, he waited, and
let his strength return. It was noon, and Shampoo would come in a
minute or two to make sure he didn't get lost. Looking down at his
hands, he made a fist and realized the tingling was quickly fading
away. He'd need to actually hit Ranma to finish him with the Bakusai
Tenketsu...

    "Wait." Ryouga paused at that thought: Point A slowly but surely
made its way to C, and found B in-between. "Why would that ancient
harpy be teaching me a technique that would destroy her beloved son-
in-law? There's something else I'm missing here."

    "Nihao!" Ryouga heard from behind, as Shampoo leaned over his
shoulder. "Lost boy always talk to self?"

    "There usually isn't anyone else around to carry a conversation
with." Ryouga stood up, eager for what was to come. "And it's 'Hibiki
Ryouga.' Or just Ryouga. Not lost boy."

    "You lost all the time." Shampoo stated as she walked, and Ryouga
started stammering a half-hearted denial. "You boy. You lost boy."

    "Fine. Be that way uh... Chinese... um... girl." Ryouga waved it
off, not caring anymore. "Ah, never mind. What's for lunch?"

    Shampoo headed off through some bushes, opening up to the
campsite, and Ryouga followed. "Pork buns."

    "P...P... pork buns?" He exclaimed, shocked.

    "You no like pork?"

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

    Shampoo seemed to think about that for a second, before answering.
"Never eaten cat. Wouldn't know."

    "That's not... I mean..." Ryouga sat in front of the plate,
looking at the two steaming, and delicious smelling and looking items
of culinary preparation. "My curse is to turn into a pig, you know."

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

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

    "And try serve you to Ranma, yes." Shampoo remembered, and noted
that mentioning the pig-tailed martial artist caused Ryouga to flinch
slightly. Either that or it was the memory of that event.

    "That wasn't the first time it'd happened to me." Ryouga picked up
one of the buns, his self-righteousness warring with his hunger. His
voice remained cold, however, and he took a deep breath to calm
himself. "Not by a long shot, Shampoo. I've come close to dying in my
cursed form... close to being eaten... so many damn times. You
wouldn't understand the horror... the... the inhumanity of being
treated like potential food by other people."

    Shampoo was silent. She was bordering on asking if he wanted
something else, when he closed his eyes and took a bite out of the
first of the buns. As he ate, slowly, his bangs fell over his face,
obscuring his eyes. Between mouthfuls, he sighed, his voice still low
and cold. "Sorry...."

    "Why sorry? Shampoo should be sorry," Shampoo asked as he looked
up at her, dark green eyes distant.

    "You didn't know it was me. No one ever does." He looked back
down. "Not that it makes much of a difference. It would be nice being
a cat... unless I ended up in North Korea again. It wouldn't matter
what you turn into there."

    He let out a quick chuckle, and Shampoo felt some relief as his
mood lightened. He was dangerous, she knew from watching him fight
Ranma before, but that wasn't it really - when he was like that... the
depression and veiled anger was almost tangible. It was an emotional
relief to have it dissipate somewhat, and she decided to try and
encourage that, if for nothing else than her own mental well-being.

"Shampoo get caught once."

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

    "As stray cat." Shampoo took a quick bite out of one of the buns
herself. "Taken to animal-prison. Have to escape. Not get home for
days, because stuck as cat. Was scary, but kind of fun, too."

    Ryouga noted her smile, and gave a small one himself. A memory
like that would be just one more painful reminder of his curse, and
the tragedy that always seeped into his life, but Shampoo seemed to be
describing it as some kind of adventure. As something to remember, not
try to forget. It was... an odd concept, but Shampoo didn't seem to
live with depression much, despite the fact that she was, pretty much,
somewhat of a loner. HHHe'd seen as much over the last few days. She
trained, apparently, mainly by herself, and she didn't seem to talk to
many people much. Mousse, from what he'd heard, she mainly smacked
around and tried to get away from. Ranma, she was too busy glomping to
talk to.

    "Well." He scratched the back of his neck. "It's not like you wear
a collar or identification or anything."

    Shampoo laughed, and the two ate briskly. Ryouga finished his
second bun quickly, and ignored his stomach's complaints for more. The
Bakusai Tenketsu's training was next, and it wouldn't to for a full
stomach of food to try and withstand the impacts he'd soon be
receiving. A light lunch was preferable, and would tide him over until
dinner. Idly, an earlier thought made it to his mouth.

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

    "Plan on training with Lost Boy in mornings, but..." She trailed
off, and Ryouga blushed a deep crimson.

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

    "No can train with after, either. You always so weak and fall
asleep after dinner." Shampoo also finished eating, and stood up.
Ryouga noticed she was wearing similar clothes, except this shirt was
red, and came to the conclusion that it was almost certainly what she
trained in.

    "I've got some time before ...Cologne comes and drags me off to
dispatch." Ryouga shrugged. "I could give you a few pointers.
...You're not planning on attacking Akane, are you?"

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

Ryouga sighed.

    "Alright. So... Hey!" The lost boy jumped back as a quick kick
passed by his nose. Shampoo pulled her leg back and spun into a
backhand that Ryouga saw coming, and avoided. Shampoo's attacks were
strong, he knew, but not too quick in execution, and her style was
actually fairly raw. It wasn't a surprise that onna-Ranma had defeated
her, back at her village. Ducking under another kick he pushed off
with his toes, and landed softly half dozen feet away from the
attacking Amazon. One thought still worried him.

"We're just practicing, right?" he asked, "No Joketsuzoku rules or
laws or anything involved?"

    "Great grandmother not around anyway."

Shampoo shrugged quickly, and moved in to attack. Ryouga pivoted at
the last second, casually avoiding her fist. Her eyes caught his in
that millisecond. Gone was the depression from before, or even the
anger. Replacing it was a softer version of confidence that she had
seen in Ranma's blue-gray eyes. Before she could try and counter,
Ryouga's elbow softly tapped into the back of her head, just enough to
feel it.

    "Shampoo," he simply said, his voice professional and calm as he
lowered his arm. "How much did your grandmother teach you?"

    "Great grandmother," Shampoo corrected, and lowered her arms too.
The spar was over. With full strength behind that elbow, Shampoo
suspected her head would have looked like a splattered tomato. "She
teach traditional weaponless and weapon armed fighting techniques.
Shampoo best in village."

    Ryouga was going to say it didn't say much for the village, but
held his tongue. He'd taught Akane Martial arts Rhythmic Gymnastics
before, and insults were rarely the right way to go about it. Unless
they were really necessary, of course. Besides, Shampoo was really
quite good. She was exceptionally strong, fast, and skilled. He was
just... better.

"Anything else?" He asked, sensing there was more to it.

    Shampoo thought about that before answering, "Few other special
things. Bonbori weapon specialty. Broadsword techniques. Staff
fighting. Martial Arts Pressure Points. Martial Arts Takeout..."

    "Martial Arts Takeout?" Ryouga seemed obviously skeptical.

    "Very similar to Martial Arts Masonry!"

    "Martial Arts Masonry?!" Ryouga didn't hide his skepticism this
time. ...Not that he really had last time, either.

    "Is where Bakusai Tenketsu come from! Lost boy should at least
know that!" Shampoo held up a finger. "Have attack called 'Blowout.'
Destroys delivery when touch box."

    Ryouga's eyes narrowed. Shampoo was concentrating a small amount
of ki into her finger, just enough that he could feel it. Slowly, he
smiled. Things were quickly beginning to fall into place.

***

    The Present.

    Ryouga relaxed in the seat; folding his ticket into the pocket in
front of him. It had taken an extraordinary amount of luck getting to
the first plane. He had wandered into an airport, and after two days
had managed to find a flight to Hong Kong. Luckily, the airport had
been built on an artificial island, minimizing even his chances of
wandering off course. It had taken another two days of non-stop
walking and searching (and avoiding getting arrested) before he found
a flight to Japan. It wasn't Tokyo, but it would get him close to home
- which was what mattered. To a Hibiki, being a hundred miles from
home or being one mile hardly made a difference, the chance of finding
the place was the same. It was by necessity that the family had
literally thousands of frequent flier miles to their credit, and that
Ryouga had been able to cancel and recover the money from the flights
he missed.

    He was flying coach, so the meal wasn't exactly very good, but
compared to what his stomach could handle (Akane's cooking) and what
his taste buds were used to, it was still one of the better tasting
meals he'd had over the last week. Sighing, the lost boy looked out of
the window at the rolling ocean below. Contrary to what many believed,
Ryouga did indeed know geography. On a broad scale, he knew both a
great deal about different parts of the world, a lot of it from first
hand experience, though, to date, he'd never ended up anywhere as
exotic as Africa or South America. The farthest off course he'd been
was somewhere around Berlin, in Europe, shortly after first getting
his curse at Jyusenkyou, which had subsequently taken him to North
America, and from there to the Philippines and then finally to Japan.
He'd touched on the Near Middle East once during this trip, though not
for very long. Thinking back, his mind clear of actually finding the
places, he went over this last adventure in futility and escapism.

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

    "No matter." He decided on, as the man sitting next to him shifted
slightly while reading his newspaper. Ryouga closed his eyes, and
traced his steps. After his little... situation, he'd hitched a ride
on a ship to South Korea. He'd tried to get back then, but ended up
sneaking (see: stumbling) across the border into North Korea, almost
being shot to hell in the attempt. Growling, Ryouga admitted it wasn't
the first time he'd ended up going through the ol' DPRK, and it
probably wouldn't be the last either. It was one of the few countries
he'd ended up in more than once in which he had to actually watch out
for military patrols attacking him in the night. He'd hit the larger
People's Republic next, Ryouga wasn't totally sure exactly when he'd
crossed the border, but mainly stuck to the cities and ended up going
south; he could see that now. It'd undoubtedly been the longest,
hardest part of the journey.

He'd trailed an American Tour group for a day, blending in by speaking
English, and had gotten through Xian and back on track south before he
ended up in Mongolia, which was both a good thing and a bad thing.
Cities were, for a Hibiki, a lot easier to get lost in than the
forests and jungles of the world, but on the other hand, it was a lot
easier to get a general idea of where you were when there were signs
and other people around. He'd been aiming for Jyusenkyou, in Quinghai,
and the chance of a cure, but obviously missed it entirely.

    "Big surprise there," he said softly and let out an exasperated
sigh. The rest, after China, was a maze of unending jungles, except
for Thailand and Burma - Ryouga knew he'd been there. Thailand because
he'd studied some Muay Tai Boxing, and spent an extra few days there,
and Burma because someone there had out and said he was in 'Myanmar.'
Then he'd ended up in a mountain range that was obviously the
Himalayas. He'd never entered India proper, at last not to his
knowledge, but he had spend a lot of time Bakusai Tenketsu'ing through
mountains and the like and perfecting his more destructive techniques,
so it was hard to tell. There'd been plains and deserts, eventually,
and at that point Ryouga knew he'd begun to make really good time.
Without water to worry about, or other distractions, he'd simply
picked a direction and WENT.

    He'd crossed the Indus (Or some other big river) in a reed boat
soon after, and the customs he'd seen made it obvious Pakistan had
been next (He'd been shot at there, too). Here it got really tricky,
because as a Hibiki, Ryouga had still covered a LOT of terrain and, he
suspected, went in circles. It all seemed the same, but if he recalled
correctly, and he usually did when relaxed and wasn't actually there,
that he'd been through Afghanistan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan,
Uzbekistan, and maybe Kazakhstan. Iran, he knew he'd been to, because
he'd passed through Tehran and seen a lot of the countryside. He'd
ended up in Russia, which meant he'd passed through either the tip of
Turkey or Azerbaijan, through Georgia, and into southern Russia. A
very different route from the last time he was in China, after
Jyusenkyou, when he'd veered north through Russian Siberia - mostly
open land and forests, and made it to Europe with relatively little
interference.

It'll be so good to get back to Japan...

    "Hey!" Ryouga turned from looking out the window to gently nudge
the man sitting next to him. "We've been over water for a while now."

    "What do you expect?" The man ruffled his paper and turned the
page. "This is the overnight flight to Hawaii."

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















             .---Anime/Manga Fanfiction Mailing List----.
             | Administrators - ffml-admins@anifics.com |
             | Unsubscribing - ffml-request@anifics.com |
             |     Put 'unsubscribe' in the subject     |
             `---- http://ffml.anifics.com/faq.txt -----'