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 VII    (v1.3)

by:   J. Wagner



Ryouga woke up to the greeting of a white tiled ceiling. Without
thinking, he said the inevitable:

"Where the hell am I now?!"

Trying to lean to his side, he found himself restrained by what looked
to be leather straps on his arms and across his chest, keeping him
bed-bound. Smiling to himself, he flexed his muscles, expecting the
straps to rip apart like so much angel hair pasta. Oddly, the
restraints held, so he increased the power behind his attempt to
escape. He'd ripped though steel wire once - how were these little
leather things keeping him down? Not one to give up, and possessed of
a remarkable stubbornness, Ryouga snarled, and increased the intensity
of his struggles.

Then, the door opened.

"Up and about already, are ya' pig boy?" Ranma walked in, uninjured,
and in his typical attire, one arm behind his back.

"Ranma! What the hell are you doing here? Come to attack me while I
was out cold, eh?"

"Turnabout would be fair play, P-chan." Ranma's other hand came
forward, wielding a small water pistol. "Say please, and maybe I'll
let you go."

"Never, damn you!"

"Beg, Ryouga. Say 'please Ranma, please let me go.'"

"I've got a better idea. Why don't you go pimp yourself out to street
people? Give a little back to society for a change?"

Ranma laughed, mirthlessly. "Oh well. I guess you'll have to stew for
a little while longer, then. I hear you can survive without water for
more than a week - I believe I'd like to test that. Oh, and I'll say
'hi' to Uuchan for you, ok?"

"What? What the Hell are you talking about?" Ryouga strained against
the restraints until his muscles threatened to tear. Ranma just
chuckled slowly, pivoted, and left, turning off the lights behind him.
Darkness swallowed up the Lost Boy, but it was hours before he finally
stopped trying to break free. Hours slowly passed and became days,
tearing away at Ryouga's eyes and mind. Sometimes, he'd hear voices -
soft voices, like a choir of angels, just out of reach and just
indistinct enough to be impossible to pin down. Sometimes, the voices
would laugh. The laughter wouldn't be directed at anything in
particular, it would simply be the hard, crass, mocking laughter of
his childhood. Impossible to tell whom it was directed at in theory,
but always at himself in practice. He'd come to hate and fear the
sound, and as it droned on, hour after hour, his only company in the
dark hell to which he was confined, Ryouga's rage boiled, as if hatred
alone could reach out and do harm to those who would mock and destroy
his happiness.

When his fear began to show, that's when the boulders came.

His dreams had been devoid of them for months, but now they came
again, with greater ferocity and a vengeance born of a hundred
thousand Bakusai Tenketsu blasts, as if every ounce of rock and stone
and silica that he'd ever destroyed was coming back to take a piece of
his hide with them into oblivion. And when he lay there, broken and
bloody, his voice barely able to curse over split lips and broken jaw,
they came again for an encore performance, beating battered flesh into
the consistency of pulp, and broken bone into splinters that tore
through muscles and skin. Then, when the dreams passed, the darkness
greeted him with pangs of hunger, and a mouth so dry and parched for
lack of water that he could barely move his lips without them cracking
and leaking acid blood. His lungs refused to respond, and his arms and
legs had long since stopped trying to respond.

How long had he been here?

It felt like months.

It felt like years.

It felt like an eternity.

Then, Ranma came back and turned on the lights. He looked the same:
calm and mocking as always, and he again flaunted the little yellow
water pistol, promising release. Promising freedom. He didn't say
anything, immediately, instead opting to slowly walk around the bed
and let Ryouga wait another few seconds longer than necessary.
Finally, he spoke, "Can you understand me, P-chan? You still with us,
piggie?"

Ryouga's lips couldn't move, but he managed to nod his head, ever so
slightly.

"Good. Now, just say 'please' and I'll give it to you. I'll let you be
free. Won't that be nice?"

Ryouga didn't move.

"Come on, pig boy. Say it. Say it! Is your pride really worth your
life? Your worthless, lonely, forgotten life?"

Ryouga's lips moved a millimeter, and a faint wisp of air left his
mouth, in a silent: "Yes."

"You'll change your tone soon enough, lost boy." Ranma sneered, but
paused before leaving. His hand reached over to the light switch, and
Ryouga almost... almost broke right then and there. When Ranma's hand
passed over the switch, instead of being plunged into darkness, the
lights became small suns, glaring down with seemingly limitless power.
As Ranma closed the door behind him, Ryouga screwed his eyes shut,
searching for the darkness and the shade, but the light slowly burnt
through the frail flesh of his eyelids, and as the walls themselves
seemed to glow from the heat, the room like a tiny nuclear furnace,
Ryouga realized, finally, that there was no escape. There was no
shade.

Every instant of time quickly became an individual exercise in agony
so intense, so overwhelming, the shock alone would have, in a kinder
universe, killed him. Instead, he lived while slowly dying one layer
of skin at a time. The light sheared away his eyes, cooked his body,
and burnt away his soul. The laughter pounced on him again, like a
carrion eater, and now, truly sightless, he could almost make out the
voices. His parents, Ranma, Ukyou, Shampoo, Mousse, Akane, Nabiki,
Kasumi... one by one, they seemed to come into focus, like an endless
parade of voices just outside the door. Was that it? A party?

Then the pain was everywhere - in every crevice and recess of his
mind. Every fold and neuron, suffused with boiling, bubbling, burning
pain.  Ryouga clung to the hope, to the prayer, that eventually maybe,
just maybe, the dead could again die, and he'd finally know something,
anything, but the waves of agony that consumed him, over and over
again, like a rising tornado. He felt every organ and every tiny bit
of tissue melt into a bloody black soup around him. He could feel his
brain, now slick and molten, slouching out of his ears, and down his
face from the sockets that used to have eyes. The slightest movement,
to breathe, to twitch, became an exercise in joint rending torment.
And it kept building higher and higher until Ryouga forgot what it was
like not to be drowned in pure, damned anguish.

How was it... how was it that a skeleton could feel pain?

Then, the lights faded into a comfortable haze.

"Whew! It smells like Pork Fried Rice in here, P-chan! What a mess!"

Ranma.

"You don't have to even say it, you know. Just think it. It'll set you
free."

What was left of the man named Ryouga Hibiki quivered, like a
slaughtered animal on a skewer over a fire pit. Amazingly, even though
he was still blind, Ryouga felt tears on what was left of his cheeks
and realized he was crying as his whole body convulsed uncontrollably.
His pride was long gone, burned away by punishment and pain. The sad
truth was that he'd have done anything - kill a thousand innocent
people, twist Nabiki and Akane and Ukyou and Shampoo and Kasumi into
bloody marionettes, murder his family... he'd have done anything to
end the hurt. How long had he been here? At one point, he'd hoped that
he'd die of old age before the pain stopped. No. His pride was the
last thing on Ryouga Hibiki's mind.

Ranma seemed very pleased. "I'm glad you came around, P-chan."

The feeling of water cascading over his body was like a gift from the
heavens. It brought an end to suffering, a release from prison... and
the loss of his human body. But, right now, that was such a small
price to pay. Unsteady on his hooves, Buta-Ryouga blinked, and found
that he could see. Ranma towered over him like a monolith, eyes
glowing. Slowly, his lips parted into a mouthful of blades, like a
shark's dream. "I'm so glad you failed."

And then, Ryouga realized he'd well and truly lost the only thing he
still had.

His Humanity.

He'd lost in the end, just like he always did.

***

'NOO!!!!!!'

Something snapped as his voice barely made it past his lips, and out
of the haze of his vision, Ryouga saw his hand - but not bone with
scraps of flesh, not the hoof of a damned animal, but a normal human
hand, rough and calloused. And it was shaking, almost uncontrollably.
Suddenly very cold and very scared, Ryouga looked around him. It was a
white room, a hospital room, like before, except a little larger. An
instant of panic came and passed in a heartbeat, when Ryouga noticed
the broken leather strap that had been holding down his right arm. He
felt sore, and weak, and ...low. Lower than he'd felt in what seemed
like a lifetime. His throat heaved, and he felt like he was about to
vomit, but nothing came up, so he gasped a few times, like a fish,
before saliva wetted his mouth again, and he felt himself slowly
recover.

Rolling over, away from the door, looking for the rays of light that
seemed to be coming in through a window, he saw a table, and a mass of
brown hair. Blinking a few times to get the haze out of his vision, he
recognized the person lying, asleep, at the desk. Pulling himself up,
he reached out and pulled at her dress, his voice still hesitant to
leave his throat, but trying none-the-less. "Hey. Nabiki. Wake up."

She stirred slowly, and went back to sleep.

Ryouga took a deep breath and spoke a little more loudly and clearly,
"Look! A thousand yen!"

"What? A thousand yen? Where?!" Nabiki was instantly alert and looking
around frantically. "It's mine! I dropped it!"

Ryouga coughed to get her attention. "So... it does run in the family,
huh?"

She faced him, and gasped. "You're awake!"

Ryouga looked back and forth, as if unsure. "I think I am, yeah. What
happened? Where the hell am I?"

She smiled a bit. "This is the University of Tokyo Hospital."

"I hate hospitals," he replied, plainly, and moved to stand up.
Nabiki, however, intercepted him and pushed him back with both hands,
stopping his forward momentum.

"Oh no you don't!" She pushed again, on his good shoulder, and he
allowed himself to lie back down while propped up with an elbow.
"Besides, you've already paid for all this stuff off your family's
health insurance. I had no idea it was so comprehensive."

"For my lifestyle?" Ryouga dismissed it. "It doesn't even cover being
buried alive under tons of rock."

An inquisitive Tendo eyebrow rose at that, but she sat on the edge of
the bed to preclude any more attempted escapes. He still had an
intravenous feed into his left arm, and his features were still
somewhat pale. Then again, he had lost a lot of blood, especially from
the hole that had torn through his trachea and almost flooded his
lungs. Had it healed already? Ranma had mentioned, when he saw that
Ryouga was in a coma, that he was 'just healing.' Nabiki had almost
slapped him across the face then and there. Saotome had only taken a
few days to heal most of his wounds, but at that time he'd still been
bandaged up, and his arm in a somewhat unnecessary splint, so she held
back. If a small flicker of concern had ever been in Ranma's eyes, he
hid it like a master.

He'd taken the 'opportunity' to train even harder than before, this
time with Master Happosai, and both his Fathers, almost non-stop.
Meanwhile, his rival had languished in the hospital, deep in the
deepest of sleep. His recovery had, indeed, been hailed as a medical
mystery, and Dr. Tofu had arrived the day after to see things for
himself, claiming (erroneously) to be the family doctor at her
request. Shampoo and Ukyou had followed, the former somewhat reserved
and angry, and the latter holding back tears and hiding behind a macho
facade. They both brought flowers, though Ryouga wasn't much of a
planet lover as far as she knew, but both girls also worked every day,
so Nabiki decided she could most easily make the trip to the Hospital
and check up on the Lost Boy. They hadn't even been able to contact
his parents, because no one knew even if any of them had access to a
phone in the first place.

That, and in a way, she blamed herself. She'd let Ranma play at being
Hibiki Yoiko, the lost boy's little sister, because it was kind of
funny. And it had been, up to and until Ryouga found out, attacked
Ranma-chan, and ended up getting shot down by police who probably
thought he was a rapist or something. It was damn fortunate that Akane
had acted when she did, and tackled both police officers, or they
probably would have kept firing until Ryouga was nothing but a corpse
stumbling around on legs that outright refused to give out beneath
him. If she had just exposed Ranma right off the bat, or malleted him,
or had Ryouga just throw him out then and there, none of this would
have happened. It was a guilt she wasn't accustomed to and a
helplessness she hadn't felt since her mother had been in this same
hospital, years ago.

"So." She looked at the shroud of bandages slung across his left
shoulder, covering the wound there, and onto his chest. "How do you
feel, Hibiki?"

"Like I've been shot seven times, Tendo." He shook his head a bit, a
little amused. "It still hurts a little. But I'll be good to fight in
a day or two, I think."

"Not going to let almost dying keep you down, huh?"

"I won't lie about it... this one was pretty bad." His eyes seemed far
off for a second, but they refocused quickly on the here and now.
"Wait. The bullets aren't still... inside me, are they?"

"Nope." Nabiki reached over to the table, and handed him a small vial
with seven crumpled little metal objects inside. Ryouga took the vial,
carefully, and turned it in his hand, slowly examining every one of
the spent bullets like it was a jewel, unique in the entire universe.
In a weird way, Nabiki supposed, they were. Each was slightly
different from the others, because of its impact on different parts of
his body, and the damage each had done to him. When they brought him
in, they weren't expecting him to live. Now, less than a week later,
he was almost normal.

Almost up to fighting par, too, if his self-diagnostic was accurate.
Ranma was training like his life depended on it, but they all knew he
had a long way to go before he was ready for the final duel between
the two of them. But, watching him, Nabiki realized how paltry and
wasteful it all was. Everything. The duel, the bread feud, the P-chan
debacle, the teasing, the betting... it was all so short sighted and
stupid. Yet, at the same time, it was their drive and their focus.
Ryouga had nothing else to cling to but his rivalry with and his
hatred of Ranma, and the pig-tailed boy's pride wouldn't let him
accept any kind of loss in the field of Martial Arts. One man's
desperation, and another man's pride, building and building like a
house of cards before the inevitable collapse - would one of them lie
dead when everything was said and done?

"I recognize this one," Ryouga spoke up, and pointed to one of the
bullets, the second from the top. "Grazed my heart. I could feel it.
And this one... my neck..."

Nabiki quickly took the vial from his open palm, and put it back down
on the desk, next to her homework. "Don't worry about that, ok? Just
concentrate on getting better."

Ryouga leaned back, and looked up at the ceiling. "I hate this place.
I want to leave."

"Give it a chance, Ryouga-kun. The food's pretty good." She didn't
lie. It wasn't that bad, and maybe after she gave her a call, Kasumi
might bring something over to further convince him to stay in bed for
another few days. She also made a mental note to make sure Akane
didn't bring ANYTHING that could be hidden on her person under the
guise of being 'food.'

"Was it the drugs?" Ryouga whispered to himself. That dream had been
so real. He could still feel the pain, distantly now, and hear the
voices, and see the nothingness... it he tried...

"You'll be happy to know that no one's pressing charges," Nabiki
continued, not hearing what he had just said. Seeing that he wasn't
quite paying attention, she nudged his leg, and he looked at her. "Are
you listening to me, Hibiki, or daydreaming?"

"Huh?"

"No one's pressing charges. Seeing as you survived, the police don't
like to think about the prospect of being sued, especially since Ranma
said it was a 'duel' between two martial artists." Nabiki didn't quite
like the look that the mention of Saotome Ranma got from him. Ranma,
however, had been more than eager to brush off any charges, both
because it was mostly his fault, because he wanted to fight Ryouga
again sometime in the future, and something about the 'martial
artist's code.'

"Good." Ryouga left it at that.

Taking notice of his discomfort at being beholden to Ranma for
anything, Nabiki got up. "I better go and make some calls. Shampoo and
Ukyou should be happy you're up and about again."

As she headed towards the door, Ryouga suddenly bolted upright.
"Wait!"

Nabiki paused, surprised, her hand near the doorknob.

"I mean... I don't think I could quite take Shampoo glomping me right
now." He undid a clenched fist. Why did being alone in this room scare
him? "How about I, um... help you with your homework or something..."

Nabiki seemed to waver, but walked over, a half smile on her lips.
"Ok. Sure. I haven't gotten much of it done anyway."

"Great!" Ryouga relaxed noticeably, and let out a deep sigh as he went
back to lying on his back on the bed. He could feel his strength
returning, little by little, even as Nabiki read off her English
assignment, and listened as he off handedly corrected the occasional
mispronunciation or grammatical error. Inwardly, he was torn between
making his escape sometime at night (when he was more confident that
his speed and strength would be close to normal by then) or staying in
this place a day or two longer.

He hadn't been exaggerating when he said that he hated hospitals.
While he was more than accustomed to being alone for months at a time,
it was always worse being alone in a crowd. The impersonality of
hospitals, coupled with the sterile, standoffish atmosphere, and the
unnatural surroundings and sounds made him uncontrollably jumpy, like
when he'd first struck out (gotten lost) on his own, back when he was
six, and the police had tried to take him to an orphanage. He'd ended
up fighting them off and making a break for it. It had been a terrible
experience in a life full of terrible experiences, but at least then
they hadn't shot at him.

And, he was loath to admit it; he didn't want to be alone in here.
He'd panicked when Nabiki had been about to leave, and in his mind's
eye, about to turn off the light, plunging him into darkness. It was a
strange sensation, the fear, and one he hadn't known in a long time.
True, there had always been the fear of insecurity, of fitting in, of
being accepted, which were all warranted... but fear of something so
abstract and childish as being alone, or in the dark, was a totally
alien and foreign concept. He'd had to get over those sort of things
when he was knee-high. It was then that he resolved himself - Hibiki
Ryouga had to stay here, if for no other purpose than to conquer and
crush this small handicap. Then, and only then, would he allow himself
to get lost for a week or two, deep in the wilderness, where his heart
had always been free to roam. Yes, the wilderness it was: one that was
far away from childish, jealous, thoughtless rivals, and city noises
and machines.

Or would that just be running away again?

More cowardice.

Afraid of people.

Afraid of women.

Afraid of rejection.

Afraid of water.

Afraid of being alone... forever...

"Damn it all," he hissed under his breath.

***

The Tendo Dojo.

To quote the old adage that great age begets great patience was to
ignore the example that was Happosai. And, while the founder of
Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu prided himself on his perceptive, and
voyeuristic, abilities, he was not one to wait long for things he
wanted, be they panties, jewels, magical artifacts, or simple answers.
Things were growing more and more intense, he'd heard, between Ranma
and another boy named Hibiki, of whom Happosai had never seen. Ranma
was also, he noted, getting more persistent in his attacks on the old
master, repeatedly goading him into unleashing his all-powerful final
attack, the one he had sealed away for years and subsequently
forgotten about. The first couple of times, Happosai dismissed it,
simply content to observe how the last week and a half's hard training
had brought the boy to new peaks of speed, strength, and technique.

Then, Happosai found Ranma practicing the dread Happo Dai Karin.

Silent like a ghost, the old master watched as the pride and joy, the
future of his school, reached behind him, concentrated until
perspiration dripped from his brow, and drew forth the Happo Dai
Karin. It was a small one, true, little more than a cherry bomb and
the effort he had put into retrieving it was phenomenal, but the
simple fact that the boy had picked up on the operation of an advanced
technique like the Final Attack almost left Happosai speechless. Had
the boy only respect for his elders, he'd be a true disciple of
Anything Goes, and a true credit to his Master and his Art.

He sat, in the shadows, and watched as Soun and Genma entered the
dojo, warmed up, and helped their future heir train. Soun was hard
pressed to keep up with the two Saotomes in his old samurai armor, and
his style was rusty and neglected. While Genma, his old rival, was
only slightly below the peak he had been at when he was half his age,
the elder Saotome remained a force to be reckoned with. His endurance
was formidable, his already impressive strength and speed tempered by
years of experience, and like in their youth, the two men attacked as
a seamless unit, each covering the movements and weaknesses of the
other. Ranma received them with aplomb, though already partially worn
out from drawing the power of the Happo Dai Karin, and fought them
both to a standstill. As his two elders moved around for another
charge, Ranma's arms became near blurs, even to the trained senses of
Happosai, warding off every attack, while moving around the two older
warriors with dancer's grace.

And when Genma and Soun moved to retire, Ranma asked the same thing he
asked everyday, but only once: "You're holding something back, old
man."

Genma dismissed the charges with a shrug, and went off about his own
business. Ranma stayed, and did katas and motions, before heading out
to the yard for his strength training, and a personal review of what
he'd done earlier in the day. The dedication and the passion to which
he applied himself were truly impressive. However, growing quickly
bored, Happosai left the boy to his own devices, and went to tend to
his silky 'collection.' If Ranma asked, nicely, perhaps he would deign
to share the secrets of true power. If not... there were others with
great potential in Nerima. Besides, Happosai looked at the final
ingredients he had managed to bring together in lieu of tonight's
raiding, he had to prepare himself for the New Year.

 Ranma hit the dummy, knuckle on, causing the stiff wood to shake as
if wounded and in pain. A single black and yellow irregularly colored
bandanna shook with it, barely holding onto where it had been tied.
Ranma struck again and again, in measured degrees, carefully
regulating the power and speed of his blows. The old men were forcing
him to attend school tomorrow - they, like everyone else, didn't
understand. Kasumi had her household duties, and Nabiki had her
schemes and dealings. Akane had her schoolwork, which she somehow
seemed to enjoy, Soun had his dojo and his plans (and his sake), and
his father had his retirement to enjoy, even with that stupid job he
held down at Dr. Tofu's. Certainly, no one at school could understand
or appreciate the situation.

He had lost.

Why didn't they understand that everything else was secondary?

Ryouga's words from a week ago still rung in his mind: haunting him
when he slept. He had been toyed with on that first encounter, tested
for what little 'progress' he'd managed to eek into his fighting
ability in between the useless triad of school, fiancees, and general
bouts of laziness. He almost laughed when he thought about it. While
he was relaxing in the furo, Ryouga was trudging through some forsaken
wasteland somewhere. While he was dodging Shampoo, or trying to
convince Akane not to mallet him over the head for some reason or
another, Ryouga was perfecting his special techniques. Who knew now
what he was truly capable of? While he was studying, being bored
nearly to tears in classes, Ryouga was broadening the distance in
speed and power between them. And now, because of the worthless
intervention of this life they had picked out for him, forced down his
throat, he had been humiliated not once, but twice.

The dummy snapped in half, as Ranma's fist tore through it like a hot
knife through butter. Annoyed, he stopped and picked up the upper
torso of the training dummy, with the scuffed old bandanna, retrieved
from their battle two weeks ago, and stared at it. It was an effigy,
and a warning - 'Hibiki Ryouga, I will break you.' Their last
encounter, however, was as fresh in his mind as if it had been just
five minutes ago. The raw power the Lost Boy was able to summon around
him was amazing, only dwarfed by Cologne and Happosai's own battle
auras. His own Ki was like a flickering candle caught in an inferno. A
blanketing forest fire seemed to dance around Ryouga, as a mysterious
heaviness seemed to build and push to their knees any who would dare
stand in defiance before such a display.

A monster.

A monster with the strength of a hundred men, and more: a monster with
speed that defied imagination, even in comparison to Ranma's own swift
female form. A monster with attacks so precise; motions so economical,
power so unstoppable... what set of circumstances could drive a boy to
become such a creature? When his unknown ability in terms of special
techniques was factored in, Ranma couldn't help bit shiver in some
small measure of apprehension. And it was that glimmer of fear, and
depression, that Ranma could never forgive his rival for. If he
couldn't win... if he couldn't defeat the Lost Boy, then he had
nothing, and he knew it. If he failed, here, then an entire lifetime,
and single life - his own - would be meaningless and void.

If Saotome Ranma couldn't win, than what good was he?

With a feral snarl, Ranma backhanded the upper torso of the practice
dummy, reducing it to so much straw and broken wood. Discarding the
remains, Ranma resolved himself to turn in for the night, where
perhaps more secrets of the Saotome School would be found amid his
father's, or Happosai's, piles of junk. And if not, then perhaps more
insight would be found in dreams. Regardless, one thing was certain:
if a choice had to be made between Saotome Ranma or Hibiki Ryouga, the
former had to be the last one standing.

No matter the cost.

***

"So, where's Shampoo?"

Mousse shrugged. "Off doing errands for the old ghoul. She says she'll
visit tomorrow."

"Oh." Ukyou closed her restaurant, locking it securely, before
adjusting her bandolier and uniform to make sure she appeared male to
most.

"You look fine, Kounji." Mousse quickly grew tired of seeing her
fidget. "Not that everyone doesn't know already."

"What? Saotome doesn't know."

"He'll figure it out sooner or later, even with those bindings. And
you should strap those on diagonally, not horizontally. It'd free up
more room for... you know, weapons and stuff."

"You have a real two track mind, Mousse. Sharp objects and Shan Pu."
Ukyou double-checked to make sure her megaspatula was tightly in
place, and adjusted her stance a bit. "Quick route?"

Mousse nodded, and the two jumped up and onto a neighboring rooftop.
"And, for your information, Kuonji, I think of plenty of other things
besides Shampoo and Weapons."

"Like what?" Ukyou retorted quickly, as the pair jumped again.

"Lots of things!"

"Name two. Just two."

Mousse hesitated a bit. "Um... sports. And current events."

"Yeah right." Ukyou rolled her eyes. "Watch it! Chimney!"

"I see it!" Mousse quickly lowered his glasses, and avoided the brick
chimney at the last second, twisting in midair.

"You should really just keep your glasses on, you know." Ukyou braced
her landing, barely disturbing the tiled roof at her feet.

"They're always slipping off. And they make me look..." Mousse trailed
off.

"Blind?"

He nodded.

"Better to look blind than stupid."

"Like you'd know," Mousse grumbled, and the pair jumped again to
another roof.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You have perfect eyesight. Everyone else does. Even Hibiki, despite
his other problems, can see clearly. You can't imagine what its like
to wake up in the morning and have to flail about for your glasses
just to see the time."

"Yeah, I just had to wake up and hide my femininity from the world
every day since I hit puberty." Ukyou meant to sound sarcastic, but
Mousse didn't seem to catch it.

Instead, he chuckled softly.

"Hey! What's so funny, jackass?" Ukyou reached for her megaspatula.
Even if they were in midair, she could still clip him upside the head.

"Cross dressing is a capital crime where I come from." Mousse held out
his arms slightly, slowing his decent. "Though I think they're more
worried about a male posing as a female rather than the other way
around."

"I should send Tsubasa their way," Ukyou snickered to herself.

Mousse didn't get it. "What is ...a Tsubasa?"

"Tsubasa is this cross dressing weirdo I knew from junior high. Not
important - just a pain in the ass." Ukyou stopped and looked around.
"Where is this place anyway?"

"You're asking me?" Mousse adjusted his glasses a bit. "I've never
been around here before. I thought you remembered."

"Wonderful. Just wonderful." Ukyou squinted, trying to make out
exactly where they were. "We're lost. I can't believe this."

"Calm down. It's not like we're Hibikis."

"Yeah. Just blind and leading the blind," Ukyou quipped.

"My, aren't we sassy tonight? Well, thank goodness for me, I suppose."
Mousse reached into the folds of his sleeves, and pulled out a small
water bottle. Unloading it over his head, he instantly shrunk down to
duck-sized.

"What on earth are you doing?" Ukyou put her hands on her hips as the
now avian Mousse took to the air, quacking in a language known only to
him. If it was a response to her question, he might as well have said
nothing at all. Luckily, he had taken his glasses with him, even if
they did take on a somewhat swirled, vacant look. As he quickly
disappeared against the dark starlit sky, Ukyou looked down and saw
his clothes strewn around, along with more than a few sharp looking
weapons.

Looking up again, and not seeing him around, Ukyou took a tentative
look in one of the sleeves, pulling out a long spear. Holding it
appraisingly, she checked to see if it was collapsible, but eventually
came to the conclusion that it was just as it appeared: a plain wooden
shaft. There was also a pair of long swords present, poking out from
under s length of chain attached to a gauntlet. A little deeper into
the sleeve, she found a small pocket stuffed with knives, only their
hilts exposed, and some of the Claw weapons he'd used on occasion in
lieu of Mandarin Duck Axes. She also found a couple yoyos, each one
with a different color, next to what looked like a comical pink
stuffed pig.

"A hidden weapon, no doubt." Ukyou make sure to avoid the pig, and
slowly pulled out a long staff with a duck on the end and a hole on
top. A close examination proved it to be a new 'Fist of the White
Swan' weapon. Either that, or it was a spare, seeing as he hadn't used
the technique since Ryouga smashed the last one. Oddly, there was what
looked like a vial of liquid inside, taped securely to the bottom of
the potty. Dismissing it, she put the weapon close to back in place;
she finally came to a pile of assorted shuriken. Taking one, she
tested the weight and balance of it in comparison to one of her own
throwing spatulas. Silently, she wondered just where he got the money
for such high quality weapons in Japan or whether he had some enormous
cache of them sitting around somewhere, and if so, how did he smuggle
them into the country?

Mousse was still an enigma to her.

To everyone, really.

He'd been in Nerima for months now, to her knowledge, and no one
really knew anything about him aside from seeing him working at the
Nekohanten and occasionally chasing after Shampoo. He had mentioned a
job with a traveling circus at one point. There'd been something of a
fight with Ranma, and Shampoo got involved, but he wasn't especially
talkative about it. No one his age seemed familiar with him in Nerima
- most didn't even know who she was talking about until she mentioned
where he worked and what he looked like. Some of the girls at school
thought he was cute, though his Shampoo obsession and status as a
Nerima Martial Artist intimidated them, and not without merit.

The local insane martial artist community as a whole, up to and
including Kuno, tended not to get involved with the more 'normal'
people of Nerima. It wasn't so much by design; it was just that they
tended to prefer the company of those who understood them better. They
outperformed virtually everyone physically, and there was an unspoken
level of tension and even intimidation Ukyou was aware of when she
walked around school. Other girls, and even many boys, would give her
a wide berth when she went about going to classes or whatever, whether
she wanted it or not, never mind that she was dressed as a boy at the
time.

The phenomenon was even more pronounced around Ranma and Kuno. It was
due, in her opinion, in Ranma's case, because of his cockiness and
boldness when talking to or working with others, and his love of
showing off. Kuno simply had a sadistic streak coupled with a
perverted streak that even scared the teachers - she'd actually seen
Kuno threaten them with his bokken to the point of them giving in to
his every and any demand. He was rich as hell, too, which didn't help
matters. No matter. Kuno wasn't important anyway, but Ukyou suspected
Ranma noticed the phenomenon despite his social ineptness, but she
wasn't as sure whether he knew about the whispering behind their
backs, always just out of earshot.

They had power that regular students didn't. Additionally, Ukyou had
been in school at lot longer than either Ranma or Ryouga - this had
been happening to her ever since she first started to 'break the
rules' as she liked to call it. Around puberty, it seemed like her
training had started to pay off far more easily and more thoroughly
than she, or her father, ever imagined. It had been then when she
first started to tap into her Ki. The power rush was incredible,
almost orgasmic in its intensity the first few times before she had
gotten used to it, but at the same time her feats of speed, strength
and prowess had begun to ...unnerve those around her. Former friends
would avoid her, and some were outright afraid to associate with
someone who could just DO so much more than they could. As they found
less and less in common, they drifted apart, and as a consequence,
Ukyou found less and less to distract her from her martial arts
training and the lifestyle her body and her abilities had seemed to
lay out for her.

And, in a disturbing way, she found she couldn't stop.

She couldn't stop training. She couldn't stop dipping into the
seemingly endless well of Ki, letting the energy flow into her veins,
crawl up her spine, and saturate her brain. It was almost like a drug.
The more she trained, and the more powerful she became, she more she
needed to improve to feel the Ki. It used to be so easy when she was a
young girl, and she had first discovered it. Now, channeling that
level of Ki felt... numb. It felt like nothing. It felt normal, and
normal was quickly becoming inadequate. It was a potentially very bad
situation, and a possible problem that Ryouga, as far as she knew,
didn't see. She'd mentioned it to Shampoo, but the Chinese girl had
just shrugged in a sort of half-understanding way, and gone onto
another topic.

Then again, there weren't any normal Amazons anyway: they were
probably all like this.

A loud quack interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up in time to
see Mousse dive down and pull up just quickly enough to land on his
webbed feet. The roof tiles were obviously cold, and he didn't seem to
enjoy the prospect of walking around barefoot on it. He quacked again,
and looked from his clothes to her. When she just stared back, waiting
for him to do something, he quacked a few more times, vainly. Finally,
Ukyou just sighed and picked him up. "Mousse, I have no damn clue what
your saying. You need to learn Morse code or something."

Mousse shifted a bit in the crook of her arm, and seemed to give that
idea some thought. She sighed again and gathered up Mousse' clothing
and weapons. "What should I do with this, huh? Someone will probably
take it, you know, if..."

"Quack."

"Mousse, I already told you...!"

"Quack! Wack." He seemed to shrug, in an unusual avian way that
ruffled up his feathers a bit.

"All right." She guessed he meant to leave them there, and looked
around at the darkening city. "Which way?"

Mousse-duck pointed his bill in an arbitrary direction. Ukyou
hesitated a few seconds to see for herself, before jumping and heading
that way via rooftop. As she did, without thinking she tightened her
grip on Mousse, and held him close to keep the wind from blowing him
out of her arm. He quacked again, in protest, and when she landed
Ukyou realized she'd squeezed him a little tight. Ducks, like all
birds, had hollow bones, she remembered - making Mousse-duck fairly
fragile when compared to Ryouga's pig form, which was, really, all
muscle, bone and cartilage, leading to a surprisingly tough little
piglet, Bakusai Tenketsu conditioning aside.

He looked up at her, and started evening out and preening his feathers
self-consciously.

"Sorry 'bout that, Mu-chan." She laughed softly when he got a little
flustered and uncomfortable. He quacked in protest a few times, but
clammed up after a few more jumps, when Ukyou finally saw the lights
of silhouette of what looked like the University of Tokyo Hospital.
They went through receptions with minimal fuss, considering one of
them was armed with a massive cooking utensil, and the other was a
waterfowl. Luckily, they were on the List, and Nabiki had warned the
necessary doctors and staff that any visitors from Nerima were likely
to be a bit ...eccentric, especially if they were of the Martial
Artist variety.

A glass of warm water later, and Mu-chan became Mousse. Ukyou
ostensibly looked away, but couldn't help seeing how the male Amazon
somehow transformed with his clothes on. To her amazement, when the
triggered metamorphosis began, Mousse's clothes just... appeared, as
if it had always been there. Unfortunately, his clothes were also wet
in spots, and dripping onto the floor, as he stood up.

"Argh!" He grumbled, squeezing some water out of his still damp left
sleeve. "Next time - we take a taxi."

"Quit being such a baby, Mu-chan."

"Che. Don't call me that."

"Why? Ryouga has P-chan for his pig form."

"You wouldn't call him that, though, especially in front of other
people." Mousse secured his glasses on his forehead, leaving his piss-
poor eyes bare to lead him around. Ukyou figured it was probably all
the people around them.

"No. So I'll just call you that in private. Who knows? Maybe it'll
make Shamps jealous."

"REALLY?" Mousse exclaimed, grew a goofy grin and started laughing
nervously. In his imagination, he could see Shampoo fuming over Ukyou,
maybe gently knocking her out, and carting him away into a life of
marital bliss. Oh, to feel the passionate embrace of his beloved after
all these long years! They'd have an old fashioned Joketsuzoku
wedding, maybe... The sudden interruption of metal on skull ended the
fantasy in a heartbeat. Mousse blinked, and noticed that everyone was
looking at him.

"Jackass." Ukyou shook her head a little and put the battle spatula
back into its holster.

"Violent macho chick," Mousse grumbled softly, rubbing the point-of-
impact behind his head. They walked in relative silence to the
elevator, where another person was waiting to go to the same floor. As
they ascended slowly, he pulled down his glasses and got a look at
what the nurse was holding. It looked like some kind of medical
report, but the writing was barely legible.

Looking up, he saw Ukyou waiting less than patiently for them to get
to the sixth floor. She had her arms crossed, and eyes closed. Her
long hair was tied up into a ponytail that hung just over her left
shoulder. She looked... Then it hit him. She'd make a good Joketsuzoku
- an appropriate Amazon. She was easily powerful enough to defeat
anyone her age in the village... except maybe Shampoo, now. He'd seen
the two girls spar, on occasion, but never actually fight, despite
their silent rivalry for Best non-Ranma Female Martial Artist in the
area. He suspected it that if they ever really did go at each other it
would be quite the duel.

She was kinda nice, too.

Sixth floor finally came, and Mousse quickly opted for simply keeping
his glasses on as they headed for the right room. He was more than a
little surprised when he saw Hibiki Ryouga up and about. There was
another doctor in the room, a breaded man, who seemed to be writing
things into a notebook of some sort. Ryouga gave them a little wave,
and walked over as Ukyou closed the door behind them.

"Hi, guys!" He said, sounding happy for once. "I was wondering when
you'd drop by."

"Better late than never." Ukyou ribbed him. Ryouga didn't seem to mind
it, when it came from her.

"Too true." He settled for, and then faced the bearded man. "Here,
Doc. Two of the people I mentioned. Kuonji Ukyou and Mu Tzu. They can
do it too."

"What?" Mousse asked, right off the bat. He hated being kept in the
dark, never mind his vision keeping him perpetually paranoid.

"Ki. Doctor Fukudome here is studying the phenomenon for medical
purposes or something." Ryouga shrugged. "He even knows Doctor Tofu."

"Oh. Nice to meet you." Ukyou held out her hand for a western style
hand shake, a habit in growing popularity at school, and the Doctor
took it with only a moment's hesitation.

"Same here." Mousse kept his hands in his sleeves, but gave a quick
bow.

With the pleasantries over, the Doctor smiled and reached into his
bag, taking out a small black ball. "This is the strength measuring
device I mentioned, Hibiki-san. Just squeeze it, and it will record
the pressure you exert on it and the muscle fatigue that occurs over
time."

"Ok." Ryouga took it, and tested its weight. "Hey, Mousse. Wanna test
it for me?"

Mousse shrugged, and caught the little ball with his right hand. It
felt vaguely like a 'stress ball,' like the one he had accidentally
crushed into paste a few weeks ago after a particularly harsh
rejection from his beloved Shampoo, but this device was far less
compressible. It felt solid enough, and as Mousse increased the
pressure, a small pad of some sort in the Doctor's hands started
displaying numbers. The doctor's eyes widened a bit. "Just keep
squeezing for another few seconds."

Mousse did, concentrating on holding his grip at peak levels, and then
let go. The little black ball quickly returned to its normal size and
shape. "Tough little thing."

"Um... Mousse-san. You peaked a little over five thousand psi."

"Is that... good?"

"Very. Its strong enough to crush rocks."

"Oh. Why not just say so?"

Ukyou took the little black ball, and eyed it carefully. "My turn!"

The okonomiaki chef knew she was physically inferior when compared to
Shampoo, and probably Mousse, too, but she was far from weak. And
despite dressing like a boy; she still had a feminist streak, and felt
a small obligation to represent female martial artists here, lest the
good doctor get any politically incorrect ideas. Seeing Doctor
Fukudome reset his datapad, and after a silent nod, Ukyou gritted her
teeth, and squeezed. Slowly at first, then in a great wave, she
concentrated her Ki into her arm and hand. After a few seconds, her
initial power faded, as fatigue set in.

"Almost the same." Doctor Fukudome wrote something down on the side of
his notebook quickly. "Very impressive."

Ukyou frowned a bit, but released the ball, allowing it to return to
its normal state. She handed it over to the lost boy, though not a
little reluctantly. "Have fun."

"All right." Ryouga looked at the black ball closely, at eye level,
before letting his fingers encircle it, concealing more than half of
it completely from view. "It certainly looks pretty tough."

"It is, I assure you." The doctor smiled, encouragingly.

"Is it expensive?"

"It... is of high quality manufacture." The bearded doctor reset his
recorder for new measurements. "Please. Go on, Hibiki-san."

"One. ...Two. ...Three," Ryouga said in monotone and began to squeeze.
The little ball instantly deformed.

"Eight... no, ten thousand... twelve..."

Ryouga's upper lip curled, revealing a single prominent canine. His
arm started to shake, slightly, as muscles became more defined.

"Twenty... Twenty-five..." The doctor's voice was barely a whisper.
Ukyou and Mousse weren't paying much attention anyway. Both of them
could see hints of Ryouga's ki manifesting all along his arm - tiny,
barely visible crackles of electricity discharging into the air. The
moment ended, abruptly, with a loud popping sound, and the crunch of
metal. Ryouga's fist was completely closed now, and the room was
silent. Slowly, the lost boy's fingers parted, revealing the
unidentifiable smashed and broken remains of the little black ball.

"Wow," The doctor finally said. "It... it stopped around thirty
thousand psi. I... wow."

"Ouch. Hurt my hand, squeezing it like that." Ryouga scraped the bits
off on the edge of the table. A few had cut into his skin and drawn
blood.

"That was pretty... incredible, Hibiki-san. I can't think of another
way to put it."

Ryouga shrugged. "When I was little, I used to crack open walnuts
between my thumb and index finger. It was good practice."

"Well." The doctor started gathering his things. "Thank you for your
time, Hibiki-san. The data I gathered will be very useful."

"No problem. If you really want to know more about Ki, there's a
restaurant, called the Nekohanten, in Nerima. The old woman there is a
real Master. She'd be able to show you some really impressive things,
I'd imagine. Just say that Hibiki Ryouga sent you and ask for the
Seafood Deluxe Ramen. It's second to none." Ryouga gave Ukyou a quick
look. "When it comes to noodles, anyway."

"I might do just that, as you can imagine this research could have far
reaching effects. Harnessing this power for the good of mankind could
not only benefit the healing sciences, but ...in other realms as well,
like in outer space, keeping muscles from growing atrophied. I'll keep
you abreast of things, in case we should schedule another meeting."
Doctor Fukudome and Ryouga bowed formally, and the older man left.

"So..." Ryouga turned back to his friends. "How are things going with
you guys?"

"Good." Ukyou went up to him, a little bit of her femininity showing
now, as she checked the little piece of gauze bandaged to his neck.
"Are you alright, sugar? I saw you when... you know."

"You looked like a mess, Hibiki," Mousse just came out and said it. "A
bloody mess."

"Gee, thanks."

"You still do." Mousse smirked. "I don't see a difference."

"Jackass." Ukyou sighed, and checked the bandage herself. There was a
small scar, barely noticeable. Letting it go, she looked him over,
finally noticing the hospital gown they had him in. "He looks
perfectly fine. Good, even."

"Ukyou!" Ryouga blushed crimson and jumped back, out of reach.

"I'm just kidding!" Ukyou took a few steps forward, and Ryouga calmed
a little. Suddenly, her face became serious. "I was worried about you,
you know. I mean, it was my stupid shirt that..."

"Forget about it." Ryouga waved it off instantly. "It was my fault for
facing down two armed police anyway."

Mousse saw Ukyou's features soften again. To say that she had been
worried was a drastic understatement. She had cried like a woman
possessed from the moment she arrived to the moment he and Shampoo had
finally dragged her back to her restaurant. Mousse had never seen a
woman cry that much... of course, Mousse had never really seen a woman
cry at all before he came to Japan, but she had been in a bad way up
to and until they finally got word that the lost boy had stabilized
and was, indeed, rapidly healing his wounds. He had felt like crying
himself, but he held it in, if only because Ranma wasn't. Shampoo had
been stoic, channeling her emotions into the Amazon standby - rage.
Tendo Akane seemed pensive, and more than a little in shock. Kasumi
looked a bit stricken, but she was well composed as always.

What had surprised him the most, though, was Tendo Nabiki, the
Mercenary of Furinkan High. When he had gotten there, her eyes had
looked red and a bit sunken, as if she had been crying at one point,
though she was in control of herself when they got there. It was
shortly after that, when Ranma said something to her, causing her to
stalk off angrily, that all hell broke loose. Akane yelled at Ranma,
and so did Ukyou. Ranma then made a truly dumb mistake, and said
something about Ukyou 'crying like a girl.' Of course, she instantly
attacked him, despite the pigtailed boy's injuries, or perhaps
encouraged by them to finish the job, so to speak. Shampoo and Akane
had to hold back the pigtailed idiot while he tried to disarm the
angry woman before they all got banned from the place.

"That jackass. I can't believe he DID that! Don't worry, though."
Ukyou smiled, though it was far from friendly as she addressed Ryouga.
"Mousse and I are going to pay Saotome a little visit come New Years."

"Just be careful. He's almost certainly been training non-stop."

"Don't worry about us. Mousse's got the perfect lure to get him just
where we want him. Caught off guard, we can shift things in our
favor."

"A lure, eh? Is it... women's underwear?"

"No." Mousse rolled his eyes.

Ryouga guessed again, giving it more thought this time. "Food?"

"No!" Mousse sighed. "A piglet. The little guy looks just like your
pig form. I ordered him from a pig farmer in the countryside. Get
this- she raises ...Sumo Pigs."

"Sumo pigs?" Ryouga looked at the male Amazon disbelievingly. "Are you
serious?"

"Sumo. Pigs," Mousse repeated, stressing each word. "Big ones, too.
Water buffalo sized."

"Ugh." Ryouga recoiled in obvious distaste. "That's just... weird. Why
would anyone train pigs in Sumo? It doesn't make any sense."

"I know!"

"Maybe they're attack pigs," Ukyou interrupted. "Who knows? Who cares?
The little black porker is the perfect bait in case Ranma's on his
guard, which he almost certainly will be."

"It's just odd." Ryouga scratched the back of his head. "Sumo Pigs?
Maybe it's some freaky eccentric martial arts animal style. Like pig
form Kung Fu."

"There's a pig-form for Kung Fu?" Ukyou looked from Ryouga to Mousse.

"How the hell would I know?" Mousse said defensibly. "She just said
she raised Sumo Pigs and asked if I was single."

"Ohhh!" Ukyou nudged him in the side. "You charmer!"

"Hey, hey Mousse! Sly!"

"It's not like that!" The Chinese boy groaned. "I told her I loved
another woman from my village, paid for the little guy, and left. This
HUGE pig, I mean elephant sized, kept staring at me. I think he wanted
to eat me, or something. The thing was a monster, I swear."

"Anyway..." Ukyou tried to steer the conversation to something with a
point. "New Years, we strike!"

"Vengeance!" Mousse shook his fist while snickering in a suitably evil
fashion.

Ryouga just big-sweated.



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