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Hey guys, here�s my first story :)

Please read the authors note at the end as well!!

 

 

 

Flash of the blade

 

A Ranma � crossover fanfic by NemoZero

[ pirringer@web.de[1] ]

 

I own neither the characters of Ranma � nor that of any other universe that
has the dire fate to be abused for this story. And since i�m a poor student
you�ll probably not get anything but an old pencil-sharpener if you sue me,
so better forget about the idea ;-]




C&C very welcome and encouraged by the way to pirringer@web.de[2] , if you
feel the need to flame my deleted-folder is waiting for you  ;-]

 

Enough of that stuff, let�s get it on I�d say.

 

 

 

 

Flash of a Blade

Bruce Dickinson

 

As a young boy chasing dragons 

with your wooden sword so mighty,

You're St. George or you're David 

and you always killed the beast.

Times change very quickly,

and you had to grow up early,

A house in smoking ruins 

and the bodies at your feet.

 

CHORUS

You'll die as you lived

In a flash of the blade,

In a corner forgotten by no one.

You lived for the touch

For the feel of the steel

One man, and his honour.

 

The smell of resined leather

The steely iron mask

As you cut and thrust and parried at the fencing master's call.

He taught you all he knew

To fear no mortal man

and now you'll wreak your vengeance in the

Screams of evil men.

 

 



Slowly but with iron determination the sun began its work of warming the
earth from the chill of the previous autumn night.
While in other parts of Tokyo people started the day with good expectations,
the only ones here to begin the day gleefully were the
reconstruction-workers. It was Nerima after all.





Judging from the first appearance it was going to be a nice day, applying
fitting scales that is. Like having the appearance of the area manually
remodelled every month or two, in building as well as destruction. But since
that was common occurrence in these parts, at first sight nobody seems to
bother anymore. 

 

The bakeries opened their doors and greeted the early risers with the smell
of freshly baked goods, the streets were beginning to fill quickly with
people beginning their chores, and on a day like this even the high altitude
of the birds would rather be taken as a promise of good weather, and not a
sign of the frequency of low-flying, partly mallet-propelled projectiles and
explosions. 

Surely not.


One would have to be either lucky or quite skilled, to notice the subtle
differences to the norm of a japanese suburb. For example postmen being
coiled like steel-springs to doge whatever could suddenly jump at them from
an alley at 7 o�clock in the morning.





One of these was at this moment edging his way to the door of an infamous
local dojo. Carefully keeping his back to the wall of the property he was
nearing, one should be glad that there were no pins falling down in the area
at the moment, since this would have resulted in a postman jumping to an
altitude it probably wasn�t very healthy to come down from again. Not that
hewas afraid of the residents there, quite on the contrary. 

 

Kasumi-san, who was usually the one to receive the mail he brought, was in
fact like an island of friendliness amongst a see of chaos and violence. It
was for a different reason that he feared for his well-being today.

 

 Burning with searing heat against his leg and heavy like a mountain there
was a special letter in his pack, setting him on edge. Would a not-Neriman
postman have known the significance of it, he would have run screaming. 

On the other hand, no one but that kind of person would have known why a
reaction like this perhaps wouldn� tbe such a bad reaction after all. This
letters country of origin was the reason for his fear as well as his
determination, if only to be rid of it and put as much distance between them
as possible.





It was from China.





 




30 minutes earlier, Tendo-Dojo


Morning was generally the most pleasant time to find oneself at the Tendo�s.
If one were to enter the house he would be greeted with a scene looking so
much like a traditional and loving Japanese family that it would warm
everybody�s heart.

 

On the other hand, traditional would be a description tantamount to calling
atiger a �rather large cat�.

 

 The patriarch, sitting solemnly at the table, displayed an air of power and
calmness. Though some would prefer to get more information about the man in
the brown martial-arts gi, our observer would have been inevitably disrupted
by a delicious smell drifting out of the kitchen. 

In there, obviously enjoying her work, a beautiful girl in a surprisingly
spotless apron, was preparing the breakfast, humming a tune to herself.

 

Oblivious to this good mood, if not to say grumpy, would be the best way to
describe the next person our imaginary observer would stumble upon. 

With half-lidded eyes, the girl who was obviously another daughter of the
house, wobbled to the table. Somewhere on the way she even managed to
extractthe toothbrush from her mouth, quite an accomplishment for Nabiki
Tendo at this time of the day.

 

Keeping his back to the front-door, our observer might perhaps have missed
the entrance of the last family-member. But since he�s an imaginary one we
don�t have to worry about that.

Entering through said door, a young girl rushed.  Kicking off her
running-shoes, her long black hair obscured her face for a moment. 

When we see her again, her  beautiful brown eyes quickly check through the
seated figures, while locating her big sister in the kitchen by the melody
drifting from it.

 

Wiping her flushed face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, she quickly
walkedpast the rest of her family, planning on a swift dip in the furo
beforejoining them. Just before she could push open the bathrooms door she
heard a voice calling from the kitchen: "Akane, could you please go and wake
up our guest, i think he overslept again."

 

`More like got drunk, i don�t even want to know what THAT BAKA did again
lastnight`  Wisely keeping her ramblings to herself, Akane mumbled an
incoherent  "Sure Kasumi" and made her way to the guest-room. After a quick
detour to fill her trusty bucket that is.




 

 

 

 

present again, still the dojo

 

 

Finally all family-members as well as house guests were assembled at the
table, and between the clicking of chopsticks only mumbled praises for the
food were heard, taken with a radiating smile from the brown-haired girl
thathad already joined her family at the table. 

 

All conversations though, as well as the angry glares shot between the
youngest of the girls and a slightly damp man in a white gi, were stopped
short when some knocks from the door caught their attention.

 

Before anybody had the chance to react though, Kasumi gracefully rose to
greet whoever had decided to visit them so early. Whoever it was however,
shehoped he�d at least take the time for a cup of tea. In her opinion,
challenging for a duel to death or not, it would only be polite.

As soon as it was clear that whatever it was, was now being handled by
Kasumithe rest of the group returned to their previous occupation.

Whether it was planning upcoming business-deals (as far as the slowly
awakening brain-cells were capable to do so) or wolfing down amazing amounts
of food with chopsticks moving slightly short of the sound-barrier. 

 

If Soun Tendo showed any reaction to this will on the other hand remain a
secret, since even imaginary observes can�t see through the newspaper he
still was holding.

 

After having a brief chat with the distressed postman, and seeing him well
onhis way (not before gently insisting to take some of her cookies of
course), Kasumi closed the front-door again and headed back to her father,
carrying with her a letter that, judging by her calm and gentle demeanour,
could as well have been an advertisement or the invitation to some shop
opening.  

Slightly bowing to her father as she put the letter in front of him, Kasumi
took her seat at the table just in time to hand out a third helping to her
fathers friend.

 

 Neither Soun Tendo nor the newspaper showed any reaction to all of this.
After a convenient amount of time had passed, so his air of nobility war
preserved, the moustached man carefully refolded his newspaper and reached
for the envelope. 

Opening it with a swift and precise movement, he enfolded the single sheet
ofpaper it contained, looking at it with the expression of an arts-critic
looking at painting he�d dismiss instantly if not for good manners.

 

This he did for about five seconds, since the message the single page
contained really wasn�t that long. As well as for another 5 minutes. 

This earned him some concerned looks from his daughters, while his
houseguestpracticed his own variation of the Tendo-Ryu�s impenetrable
newspaper-shield, applying a rice bowl instead, from which the meagre
remainsof the fourth helping were literally evaporating.

 

After those minutes of motionless contemplating, the Tendo patriarch�s
complex and finely tuned mind decided, amongst a broad variety of
possibilities, the best way to approach this matter delicately. 

Taking in consideration the letters message, as well as his duty as the head
of the family, he firmly decided on a course of action that, though not the
easiest, would provide an appropriate position from which to further analyse
the matter at hand.

 

For all others though, Soun Tendo just toppled over like a log, the infamous
sheet of paper still in his hand, and gave a good impression of a discarded
clothing-dummy, were it not for occasional whimpers to show he was still
somewhere in the realm of the living.

 

 

 

 

At the same time, in an alley not far away

 

 

Continuing on his round through Nerima, the middle-aged postman Joshi Takemi
was in deep thought. No longer did he make the appearance of somebody ready
to engage in the second part of the fight/flight reflex, but rather that of
one contemplating one of the great mysteries of life.

That, or if quitting his job and leaving town for somewhere safe (did they
rent flats in army-shelters?) today would be worth the rather painful
cuttingof his pension.

 

To understand this admittedly rather extreme reaction one would have to go
directly to the root of the postman�s primal fear. Sifting through pictures
of various explosions, fires, riots and looting mobs of different kinds and
sizes, one would be hard put not to laugh at its origin.

 

A letter. From China.

 

Just to prevent any upcoming resentment against our poor postman the author
feels in need to make some things clear. Joshi Takemi was in no manner a
fearful or cowardly man. Not only from his postal-martial-arts training had
he stood and won more then one fight. 

Living and working in Nerima didn�t leave a man unchanged. And those, whose
changes didn't consist in insanity or the loss of one or more limbs, could
becounted amongst the bravest - or luckiest.

 

Doing this for the better part of his life therefore lifted Mr. Takemi above
any doubts.

It was rather that all these, obviously good, traits which life in Nerima
pounded into its residents, that now resulted in a painful knotting of his
stomach and even more times for him to look behind than usual.

 

Not that Nerima had been a safe or even quiet neighbourhood before this one,
first, letter. On the contrary. The number of dojo�s, travelling fighters
andresulting challenges assured that life never got boring. Or safe. 

 

Local, and admittedly more then odd, styles of various martial arts
thereforewere not mainly a result of people�s weirdness and/or repeated
blowsto the head, but rather one way of many to assure survival in one of
thefew areas of the world, where the fear that the sky might fall upon one�s
head wasn�t really that unfounded.

 

All of that wasn�t new to Joshi Takemi. But with the arrival of THIS letter
(yeah, should Mr Takemi once be asked to narrate the tale of it, he would
write THIS letter big, no matter grammar or style), things changed for the
worse.

 

Before, challenges would be fought over the claim of whose skill or style
wasthe better one, or in some rare instances over a dojo�s sign. Almost
neverwere serious challenges over one�s honour fought, and battles for ones
life were as much only part of the world of television as in most other
areasof Japan.

 

Now that had changed. People didn't live in slightly tensed expectation here
anymore, they lived in fear. Joshi made a heavy sigh while dropping some
letters into the mailbox of an elderly couple who now wouldn�t even open to
him anymore. 

He felt weary, especially after talking to Kasumi-san. That she had to live
in the center of so much chaos and violence saddened him, even more so
because he knew that she chose to do so, for the sake of her family.

 

But now�..

 

Challenges were made for the combatants life�s, fights ending with first
blood or broken bones and not with yielding or even agreement of one�s
inferiority. He bit back a bitter laugh at the thought that something like
this once was possible here. 

All because of HIM. He silently cursed under his breath, before sending a
prayer to the kami to take this bane away from their lifes again. Him and
allthe troubles he brought with him.

 

It was no use, he decided. Too old were these thoughts, too many times
pushedback and forth in his mind to have any affect on him anymore but
slightly worsening his almost stoic mood. Perhaps this one would be
different. Perhaps even good, or at least not worse�.

 

With another sigh Joshi closed the last of the mailboxes he had to visit
today, in his mind already sitting with a good glass of wine and a book on
the terrace of his flat.. 

Time would tell the meaning of this letter. Fate, he knew very well, was in
the hands of the kami, and was something to endure and master, and not to
lament with.

 

 

 

 

Tendo-dojo, two hours later

 

 

The feeling of something damp on his forehead was the first thing Soun
Tendo�s mind registered after having decided on an extended time-out. Since
he couldn�t for his life yet remember what happened or why he was, as he
assumed, lying in a room alone, he decided that to wake up was the only way
to find out. 

And this was what Soun Tendo�s mind was now struggling to do.

 

�Uarghhubtzzkkk..� perhaps wasn�t the most eloquent thing to say, but for a
life-sign it was enough.  Slowly regaining rudimental motoric functions, the
father of the three girls struggled to somehow prop onto his elbows, as a
first step to regain some of his lost dignity, if there was any to begin
withthat is.

 

With a lot of moaning Soun struggled to rise from his horizontal position,
but since most of his higher brain-functions were still out of order,
including balance amongst others, this only resulted in the damp cloth
slipping from his forehead and eyes. 

What wasn�t expected by the almost-conscious patriarch was although, that
this allowed some rays of light to enter his dilated pupils, having a rather
peculiar effect.

 

This could, lacking a better picture, be described as a sea of petroleum
having its first, and last, encounter with a burning match. The brain-cells
nearest to the vision center of the brain were shying away from its
panickingimpulses that one could get the idea that they were trying to
desperately find a way to flee, breaking through the skull if necessary. 

It was a proof that the universe itself had a sense of humour, since this
wasexactly what Soun Tendo was feeling like at the moment.

 

Promptly collapsing back on his tatami-mat and eliciting a deep moan, the
nowalmost completely operative functions of Soun�s mind decided on
something.Honed from decades of experience with morning-afters when he had
visited the local taverns and tea-houses with his friends, that a most
complex meditation-technique combined with focusing his body�s functions on
healing his distressed state would be promising the best results of
betteringit.

 

In other words, he kept breathing and tried to think of nothing.

 

This was the moment when a new occupant of the room made his presence known
to Soun, when the damp cloth was gently replaced on his forehead and a
gentlevoice spoke to him:

�Are you alright father?� Now recognizing his eldest daughter Kasumi, again
he tried to regain a somewhat more dignified position, but was gently held
inplace by Kasumi�s tiny hands resting on his shoulders. 

 

Asides his train of thought Soun wondered if there was anybody on this world
who could deny this girl a wish without breaking with a feeling of
self-loathing. He severely doubted it, as weak smile on his face being the
only sign of the fleeing thought that was soon forgotten in favour of more
prominent questions.

 

Now trusting his abilities again he weakly removed the cloth from his
forehead, which he now recognized as a small towel Kasumi used in the
kitchen. Dropping his hand at his side again, and drawing a deep breath to
collect his thoughts (or bring them at least the number of directions they
were going under a dozen) he, almost by force, articulated his confusion
intoa coherent sentence, which he hoped would clear the fog that had settled
itself on his mind.

 

�K-Kasumi� (deep breath)    what happened?�

�I don�t know father�, came the reply from the beautiful face of his
daughter, which was now wearing a concerned frown, �you read the letter Mr.
Takemi brought this morning and then you fainted. Is it bad news father?� 

 

The reaction on this was immediate. All signs of weakness of confusion were
wiped from Soun Tendo�s face, the weary and from fatigue relaxed body that
lied stretched out on the tatami-mat a moment ago was less then an eye-blink
later kneeling in front of his daughter, his hands on her shoulders and
looking into her eyes intensely.

 

�Where is the letter Kasumi?!? Please, tell me you have it!!�

With eyes the size of saucers seeing the reaction of her seemingly weakened
father, the eldest, although known as the personification of calmness no
matter what happened, could only stutter out an affirmative.

 

�Y-Yes father. I considered it was best to keep it for you while you
were�.resting. Although I must say the others were quite curious about it.
Would you like to tell what it is about?�

Again the man who had miraculously regained his vitality showed an
impressiveskill when it came to surprising others with a shift of mood,
completely ignoring mental stability or sanity as a whole in the process.

 

Where a moment before Soun had once again shown a mind as sharp and strong
asa Katana, capable of leading his family through whatever dangers could
occur, again a completely different personality had its grip on the
middle-aged martial artist.

 

It would perhaps be described best as a babbling heap of a man, trying to
make himself as small as possibly and being more successful with this as it
should be anatomically possible. 

Again it took the soothing influence of Kasumi, though this time for a
significantly shorted amount of time, to get the Tendo patriarch somewhat
back into shape and fit to provide some answers do his concerned daughter,
whose presence was now being supported be her younger sister. 

Her brown-haired which sported a beautiful pageboy-cut head now curiously
popped into the doorframe, accompanied by a hand that was holding a piece of
toast she was nibbling on.

 

Seeing that sooner or later answers would be expected of him, he decided
thathe might as well take the upcoming storm head-on and try to gain some
allies to weather it. Once more steeling his mind (though there wasn�t all
that much there that could be steeled anyway) Soun Tendo rigidly rose from
his place on the floor and, with a demeanour that was so much out of place
compared to his previous behaviour that it once again stunned the observers,
proceeded to walk to the living room, briskly ordering his daughters to
follow him. 

 

Silently adding this at the bottom of the list of things today that bore
looking into them, Nabiki Tendo followed her father�s way in a decent pace,
nothing in her demeanour revealing the possible scenarios and causes for his
behaviour that were running around in her mind. 

Yes, Nabiki Tendo was curious, a circumstance that severely limited the
life-span of any secret that had the fate of rising her interest.

 

 

 

 

 

10 minutes later, dinner table of the Tendo�s

 

 

Like in the morning, the residents of the Tendo-estate were meeting at the
dinner table, this time not for the call of their empty stomachs aided by
Kasumi�s delicious food, but for the patriarch of the family. 

At his request now his three daughters were accompanying him, as well as his
guest, whose extended �visit� strained everybody�s but the patriarch�s
nerves.

 

For now although, everyone�s curiosity got the better of their resentment,
and so all were wondering for what special proclamation they had been called
from their various occupations. Wearing a yellow blouse with a long red
skirtthat was accentuating her beautiful figure, Kasumi was sitting to her
father�s right, while her younger sinter Nabiki, who was still nibbling on
the toast, was sitting on her sisters left side.

 

On the opposite side were seated two more figures, each with a different air
of curiosity about them. The one sitting to her father�s left was the
youngest of the three Tendo-daughters, Akane. She was still clad in a yellow
martial-arts gi, and considering the slight signs of dust covering her face
and hands, had once again been engaging in the destruction of one of the
mostendangered species in the Tendo-Dojo: the cinder-blocks.

 

The last once to be clad in the garb of a martial artist did not, however,
show such signs of exercise. It would somehow even seem out of character, to
see the heavily build man, who was wearing a handkerchief over his balding
head, engaging in such activities.

 

 This didn�t mean that he showed no promise of skill, just that whoever made
the mistake of judging the weighty man by his first look, would receive a
quick and painful lesson on why this would be a bad idea.

 

All those differences of personality however, did not hinder all of them to
hang on the Tendo-patriarchs lips, his rare attitude of real determination
anunmistakable sign that something big was about to come.

 

A brisk cough of the moustached man to get everybody�s attention was the
signthat now they were be to be told whatever the letters message was which
had caused such an upstir not so long ago. �Family, my friend, as you�ll
perhaps have noticed, today I received a letter. 

For you my daughters, it will most likely hold no meaning, since you were
either too young or not yet born to know from whom it came, but me and Genma
remember him very well, isn�t it so?�

 

With that, the Tendo-patriarch gave the man in the white gi a look that he
couldn�t quite decide, whether it was a glare or a question.

 

�As you perhaps remember, 4 years ago, we already had received one letter.
>From Genma here, in which he announced that he�d be coming to stay with us.
Well, since it�s said that guests mean good luck, it seems we�ll get even
luckier in the near future, my friend�

 

The last sentence was spoken in such a hard voice, that there was no more
doubt that whoever it was that would be coming, didn�t make their father
veryhappy. And that the profusely sweating Genma, who was now at the
receiving end of questioning looks of varying intensity, played no little
part in it.

 

Before the humbled martial artist could even begin to stammer explanations
about something he himself wasn�t quite so sure what it was, the unusually
harsh and disquieting voice of the Tendo-patriarch once more called to the
bald man, while reaching him an envelope - the envelope his eldest had kept
for him.

 

�Would you do us all the favour of reading this to us, Genma? And then
perhaps you can once again start explaining why exactly you are here, old
friend.� Genma, who was now assuming the colour of his clothing, took the
envelope from Soun�s hand with trembling fingers, hardly managing to pry the
single sheet of paper from it.

 

Even if the course of events wasn�t placing the elder Saotome in the best of
lights, one had to grant him that his reaction to the letters contents was
still a proof of no little self-control and discipline. 

 

Even if he had by now reached a somewhat translucent skin-texture, he didn�t
seem to be fainting as he read the letter from the one person in his life he
prayed he�d never have to see again. With a faint voice he whispered, what
could�ve been a death sentence if one were to judge it by him. Whether it
wasor not he himself wasn�t that sure at all.

 

 

"Coming with Ranma from China.
Happusai."

 

 

-------------------End chapter one------------------------

 

 

 

For most people, hiking through some remote japanese forest in the middle of
the night would be quite a scary experience. The cracking noises of dried
twigs when you step upon them, at this time of the year accompanied by
crunching when the thin layer of ice on it relents to the pressure put on
it,or some bird rustling through the air above.

 

 All those tiny noises and their echoes, and the fact that you can�t be
quitesure that it was actually you that made them or something big and furry
having succeeded in its search for a tasty snack, would be more the
sufficient to set even experienced and mellowed adults on edge.  

 

The young boy however, who was disturbing the forests solemn tranquillity by
absently kicking at random stones or twigs in his path paid no heed to such
thoughts. Finding himself in some place exactly 50 miles north from nowhere
for no apparent reason but that he hated it was just a minor note in the
greater concert of things that made his life miserable. 

 

The soloist and main act of if, playing literally every evening of the year,
was at this moment most likely sitting at a warm fire, getting drunk on
sake,which, in his self-proclaimed wisdom of age, he had bought from the
lastof their money. A good investment in his opinion, that�s for sure. 

 

At least better then a padded jacket for his son, or some variety in his
all-rice diet of the last month. But the cold didn�t bother him anymore at
this point, neither his empty stomach. Success of his fathers training or
not, at the moment no temperature short of the absolute freezing-point would
have shaken him from his trance-like trudge in the woods.

 

Oh he could have gone to their camp-fires warmth; even keep it burning past
his father�s alcohol-induced stupor, to keep his limbs from freezing stiff
until the morning when training would resume. 

He could, even though he calculated his chances rather slim, make a break
forit and leave the drunken slob. As far as he remembered it they had left a
small temple 3 days ago, which was located halfway up a snowy mountains
slopeand inhabited by some somewhat strange though hospitable monks.  

 

They had stumbled upon them, or rather the other way round, during one of
themore frequent snow-storms that whipped through the valleys at this time
ofthe year. 

Hiking through sometimes hip-deep snow for almost 2 continuing days and
nights, his father had persistently pursued his search for another of his
infamous training-grounds. This one�s location was written on what he called
his map but in most parts of the world would be recognized as a stained and
torn paper-napkin.

 

 

 

 

 

Struggling through the seemingly endless fields of snow, even Ranma couldn�t
have helped admiring the scene. Since the sun had risen on that day, it had
cast its light from an almost cloudless sky and made the top layer of snow
glister like it was mixed with millions over millions of diamonds. 

 

The effect only slightly lost its beauty when our little wanderer sometimes
had to punch the glistering and frozen shards of it in order not to loose
hisfather, who was making progress at a much faster rate thanks to his size
and weight. 

At this moment however, even if he�d never have admitted it, Ranma could
actually see, like a silver edge at the horizon of a cloud-filled sky, that
he could see his fathers training taking effect. 

 

At least he couldn�t imagine any of the few kids he had met on his voyage,
aswell as most adults, punching and struggling their way through glaciers
fordays like he did and not freezing into an ice-sculpture within an hour.
Thus he had made his way throughout the morning, a small and hard smile on
his young face, and only rarely pictured his father�s face or other vital
parts on the snow when he had to shatter an especially big tile of it.

 

So engulfed was he with his continuous exercise that neither he, nor the
bakawhom he was following for hours, had noticed the dark grey clouds, which
had filled the sky at a frightening pace. For them they only had made
themselves known, when the sea of diamonds surrounding them had vanished so
abruptly as if someone had turned a switch. 

 

Living at the border or civilisation for the last years had taught the young
boy well enough what was about to happen, and he cursed his own stupidity as
well as his fathers for ignoring the signs. Well enough, within minutes the
beautiful view that had greeted them while marching into the sunrise was
replaced by needle-sharp fragments of ice blown into their faces by the
firstgusts of wind, heralds of the storm growing and shifting above their
heads. 

 

As soon as the single bursts of wind had fused into one big and biting gale
of snow and ice he managed to close the distance to his father, who had
obviously waited for him at the ridge of one of the higher hills overlooking
the next two or three valleys spreading out before them.

 

 Even though he was using the tracks his father�s heavy boots had made in
thefrozen snow, the increasing pushing and pulling of the storm, which
seemedto come from more than one direction at once, had thoroughly winded
theyoung boy who hardly counted 8 years.

 

"Come on Ranma, it can�t be far anymore. According to the map the man sold
meat the village, the secret training-ground has to be in one of the next
valleys. So get your wits together and don�t get lost in the storm, or you
can search for the shelter of the training-ground yourself."  

 

With these words his  moronic father continued his forced march, followed by
his son who tightly clenched his jaws as he continued to wade and punch
through the glacier, surrounded by a mist of flying snow and ice, who at the
same time didn�t seem to move at all but pierced and pushed him as well.

 

 

 

 

Now, almost a week after that, he wasn�t surprised anymore, that with the
guidance of his brainless sire they had ended collapsed on the downhill
slopeof the fourth hill they had attempted to leave behind. His last
thought,as far as he recalled, before falling unconscious was that at least
he hadn�t relented before his old man did, who was lying about half a dozen
steps behind him in the snow. 

 

If he had wanted he couldn�t have made up a more startling contrast to
freezing in a snowstorm, when he woke up in a soft bed, covered with the
warmest and thickest blanket he had ever seen, let alone slept in, in his
short life.

 Slowly wiping the sleep from his eyes, Ranma tried to hang his legs from
theedge of the bed to stand up, only to discover that the edge of the bed
wasquite a bit away from him. To say that his resting-place was huge would
bean understatement. It was almost twice as wide as he was big and had an
almost quadratic form.

 

Finally shaking of the velvet cover and moving to the edge of the bed, his
feet hadn�t quite touched the ground when the door opened and a stranger,
wearing a warm-looking brown pullover and comfortable black pants, quickly
entered through the open doorway.

 Within moments reflexes induced by multiple and rather unfriendly
encounterswith their hosts kicked in, and the stranger found himself greeted
by a young and thin looking child in a defensive stance, alternately looking
at him and frantically checking the room for it�s outlay or alternative
exits.

 

"Relax, young lad. I�m just here to invite you to breakfast, no need to get
hostile. Unless you really dislike our food here that is. But in that case
you better have that argument with our cook, and not me" This reply,
accompanied with a slightly mocking but pleasant grin worked wonders on
relaxing Ranma in this alien surroundings.

Being relieved from any possible threat for the moment, the pigtailed boy
finally checked his condition. Professionally cataloguing his situation, he
summarized that he was: 

 

1) feeling warm and comfortable, much in contrast to the last weeks, 

2) although feeling relaxed hungry enough to eat a whole cow, like the
piranhas his father had once told him about, and 

3) he was momentarily clothed only in black boxers standing in front of a
stranger, probably embarrassing himself beyond belief.

 

 

But before his face could finally take the colour of ripe tomatoes and his
fighting-stance completely falter, the stranger, who was obviously one of
hishosts, chuckled and once again gave Ranma one of what he would soon know
as his trademark-smirks. "In the chest over there are some clothes that
should be quite comfortable for you, your old ones are currently washed and
mended. When you�re done walk down the hall to your right and just follow
your nose, your breakfast awaits you there, along with your father."

 

Hesitantly opening the heavy lid of the wooden chest, a comfortable set of
black pants, not much unlike his own, as well as different kinds and colours
of warm shirts and pullovers greeted the surprised Ranma, who was rather
usedto clothes consisting of mended and re-mended patches rather then what
looked like fine and incredibly soft wool. 

 

Quickly overcoming his surprise and changing into pants as well as a white
shirt plus a dark blue turtle-neck pullover, he dashed to the door and,
sincehe was a guest, after silently closing it, lightly ran down the hall.
The beauty of its beautiful old wooden doors in walls of ancient looking
darkgrey stone was momentarily lost on the pigtailed boy.

 

 After passing the 6th closed door, he was almost beginning to get worried
ifhe somehow had managed to get lost, but hearing his fathers deep rumbling
laughter he soon spotted a bigger two-winged door some way down being partly
ajar. 

Stepping halfway through it, he spotted his old man in a group of about 7
others sitting at a big low wooden table on very comfortable-looking
cushions. As his stomach was commenting with an audible rumble, they were
consuming an obviously delicious breakfast during an animated conversation,
while being warmed by a huge open fireplace burning in the opposite part of
the high-ceiled room..

 

As soon as the first of his father�s companions had spotted him standing in
the doorway, and before he could move backwards through it, he was greeted
bycheerful laughter and his name being called in friendly welcoming. 

"Aaahhhh.... the famous Ranma!!!  Come here boy and take a seat with us,
fromwhat your father had told us about you, you must be a most remarkable
boy. Look, we have toast, some things they call `croissants` or something in
France, marmalade,..... anything you like my boy...."

 

And so Ranma was ushered about, being praised by his father�s typical
bragging when he was in good mood and didn�t have to pay, and being riddled
with questions from his excited hosts for the better part of the morning
until noon. 

Only then the last of the delicious food was all but trust into his hands by
the one of his hosts which had greeted him in the morning and whose name
was,as he was told during the fourth pot of tea being prepared for them by
their generous hosts, Kiro.

 

They had, as they had as well learned through the opulent breakfast, been
found lying in the snow by Kiro and two of his fellow monks while they were
on their way to the next village, the same one from which they had debarked
recently as well. 

The place at which they now were was, to Ranma's surprise, in fact a
monastery residing at the edge of the plateau through which they had
travelled.

 

 Some two thousand and something years the first monks had founded their
monastery on this plateau, not to practice a spartanic and spiritual way of
living but rather to bring their knowledge and ancient possessions in safety
from the war and strife that consumed the land so long ago. 

 

So now the members of the monastery not only followed the path he and his
father travelled, the one of honing and improving one�s body and skills, but
also to live their lives as good as they can, even if they did that at the
peak of a sheer cliff.

 

So while his idiot of a father spent his days at the monastery with shifting
from bed to furo to table to bed, Ranma had for the first time a chance to
roam through the  vast halls of the building, soon discovering what
fascinated the almost illiterate boy the most, the huge library of the
monastery. 

 

While he had seen books and scrolls on his voyage with his father, from
leaflets to thin booklets to one of the rare tomes that described entire
styles or histories, all of which had a direct or indirect relation with
martial arts, most of the wonders the library held he hadn't even yet heard
about.

 

At the age he was Ranma couldn�t understand what most of the books and
scrolls were about, but the monks took incredible joy in showing him around,
answering his ceaseless questions and fighting hard not to grin at his
innocent curiosity that he was radiating.

 

 

 

 

 

Struggling out of these memories that now seemed like a year ago, Ranma once
again found himself deep in the moon-lightened forest even further away from
the campfire, and still not having come closer to solving his inner
conflict.

He could remember like it had been yesterday when his father took him away
from home, his mother and his friends. 

 

He rose early this day, as he always did in the summer. He rushed to the
bathroom, because he knew the sooner he�d be all clean and ready he�d go
training with daddy and afterwards come home for a delicious dinner from his
mom. 

Or she�d even bring it with her in that big basket of hers like she had the
week before, when she had visited them training in the park.

 

That day, more then four years ago, was one of the few memories he cherished
from the time before he took him away, one of the few he still had. He
almostcould replay it in his mind�s eye like a movie, when he rushed to the
living-room, clad in his now-again spotless white gi with the white belt, to
skid to a halt besides his parents sitting at the table. 

 

Shifting eagerly from one foot to the other, wringing his hands behind his
back he�d prompt his father if he was ready to go, because he was and he�d
wanted to be the first in the park again so they�d get the best spot to
trainagain. 

Only when the serious and disturbingly sad eyes of his mother met his, along
with the usually determined look of his father, he realized that something
was off this morning.

 

There was no food on the table, and no matter how fast his dad could eat if
he wanted, his mom would never be so fast and would always wait to keep him
company. 

There were also two backpacks besides Genma that morning, instead of the
small one with the few things they�d need as well as some water, which he�d
sometimes be allowed to carry. 

 

Ranma didn�t want to remember it further, rather he'd imagine that they did
some different training this day. That they�d come home at noon, perhaps a
bit later, to be greeted by mom at the door, with the smell of a delicious
meal so that he�d almost skid around the corners so fast would he rush to
thefuro to clean up with his father, since his mother wouldn�t have them at
the table all sweaty and with grass-stained gi's.

 

But it wasn�t to be on this day. They would not leave in the morning, they�d
send Ranma back up to his room and tell him not to come back until they
called him. Then he�d wait for three seemingly endless hours, during he�d
sometimes hear the voice of his mother rise, mostly with a pleading or
insistent tone. 

 

When he heard his name being called form downstairs he jumped up from the
edge of his bed where he had been sitting and rushed downstairs to meet his
parents. Though this time not only with anticipation but also mixed with
anxiety and a little fear, fear from what could�ve upset his mother while
talking with her husband. 

 

There at the table, which was bare aside from a single folded sheet of
paper,his mother greeted him with slightly red eyes and trembling hands,
which she tried to hide by holding them together in her lap. 

 

He didn�t want, or even could remember what exactly happened afterwards, how
his mother would explain in a trembling voice, that she tried to control in
vain, how they had decided that for him to be the best martial artist like
hewanted to be his father would need to take him to a training-voyage.

 

That it would be a different one than last summer, where all of them had
goneto visit all those different dojo�s. This time only daddy would go with
him, and it would be much longer. Hah. Much longer. If he had only known
whata slob his father really was, how he must�ve tricked his mother to agree
to this. 

 

But he also knew what he had said to his mother at the gate of their house.
That he had promised to do the best he could, to become the best and to make
her proud when he finally came back.

 

And he knew that he couldn�t make her proud by running away, that she�d
disappointed to hear that he had left training, no matter how hard it seemed
of how bad his father treated him. His sigh evaporated in a white stream of
mist from his lips, immediately condensing in the cold of the night.

 

If he wanted to come back to his mother again without disappointing her, if
he wanted to somehow get back that happy life he once had, he would have to
endure whatever Genma was about to dish out. To endure and to hope he�d once
see his mom again, and then he�d never go away again.

 

After a short walk back to the campfire, trusting his hands into the pockets
of the new padded jacket the monks gave him on his departure, he stepped
intothe circle of light and warmth the campfire provided to shelter them
fromthe night. 

He was almost surprised, when he saw his father staring into the flames of
the sizzling and crackling fire, not surrounded by empty bottles of sake,
butonly holding one between his hands, still halfway full. 

 

Though slightly drunk, being the martial artist he was Genma Saotome had
longsince heard his son coming back from whatever he had done in the forest.
Most likely sulking on the unfairness of the world or something. If he only
knew what really hard training was like. If he only knew......

 

"Come here Ranma, sit beside me and let me tell you a story". Following the
invitation of his father, knowing better then to argue with him as well as
needing a quick warming-up at the fire, he sat on the felled log his father
had cut down to be used as a seat in front of the fire for them. "Do you
knowwhat place this is Ranma?� Genma asked with slightly unfocused eyes.

 

Without seeing that his son shook his head in negation, he already continued
the tale he had prepared for his ungrateful son. "No, of course not. This,
isnot far away from the place where an old and terribly powerful master of
the arts.....lives".  

"I once trained under him" Genma continued with a sigh,� it was a terrible
time indeed. Me and my friend, he was training under the master as well, we
endured humiliation and torture beyond belief, all for the sake of the
art...."

 

�Seems like history repeating itself` Ranma thought, but wisely kept quiet
and let his father continue his tale, hoping that he�d fall asleep sometime
during it and he�d get the chance for a decent nap too before sunrise.

 

Genmas story was about to get lost in an incoherent  silent blubbering when
he once more was invigorated and continued as if he�d be a famous
story-teller entertaining the people who came to listen at some villages
market place, though more then a bit off in style thanks to the sake already
consumed. 

 

"And then came the day, me and Soun decided to get rid of the master. You
must know, unlike me the old master had a habit of drinking too much for his
own good. And so we used this weakness of him. As soon as he was unconscious
we buried him in a cave which we sealed with powerful wards, so that he�d
never come out again and torment us�. ahhh� the world again."

 

"And you say this cave is somewhere nearby?" asked Ranma with a slightly
interested voice, while a devious plan was already forming itself in his
mind. Somewhere between the mumblings of the almost sleeping Genma Ranma
managed to pick out that it was located at the foot of the mountain that
towered above the mountain to their south, and that the wards would kill
anybody who didn�t know how to disable them correctly, so it was sure the
oldmaster would be imprisoned there for all eternity. 

 

Making sure that his father was fast asleep, Ranma stealthily crept out of
the camp, heading south towards the mountain, intent on checking out his
fathers handiwork. Perhaps he might learn one or two useful things for the
nearer future.

 

 

 

 

Panting heavily Ranma brushed the thin layer of snow from a boulder and sat
down on it, watching the almost vertical wall of ice and stone.

Carefully probing his father three hours ago he got to know that the cave he
was now searching for would be located right besides a small stream that
would come down the cliff in small waterfalls, to create a shallow pool at
the bottom.

 

The only problem was, having a thick layer of snow covering the ground in
every direction and ice doing the same with the mountains wall, it wasn�t as
easy to locate the place as it would have been in spring.

 

But no matter how hard the obstacles were, Ranma was determined to find the
cave and finally have the means to be rid of his fathers sickening
influence.It was almost as if fate had decided to intervene, because
steppingtown from the boulder he had used as resting-point, Ranma was
immediately greeted by the sight of much more stars then he could remember
seeing in the clear winter-sky. 

 

That they appeared on the impact of his head on the boulder after slipping
onsmooth ice was only noticed some moments afterwards, as e tried to shake
the cobwebs from his head.

 

Stilly lying on the cold snow, Ranma propped himself up on one elbow and
tried to brush away the snow with his two other arms which he saw thanks to
the double-vision that was only slowly fading away.

 

And really, underneath the at parts twenty centimetres thick blanket of snow
there was ice, and as far as he could observe, it could very well be that
pond his old man was talking about.

But still, having the whole mountainside covered in ice and snow didn't make
it any easier. 

 

Although he now knew the location of the cave in an area of about 500
meters,he had no illusions that it would be impossible for him just to
blindly search for it and be done with his task as well as back in the camp
before sunrise. 

 

Sitting back on his boulder, which was, as he now knew, the tip of a big
stone-pillar that was reaching above the surface of the pond, he was
thinkingabout how he could possibly get other hints about the exact location
of the cave�s entrance.

 

As far as he knew the entrance to the cave was right beside the waterfall,
and�.. He almost fell of the stone-pillar again as revelation struck him.
�That�s it!!!� he thought, I only have to find where the water came down the
mountainside, and that has got to be where the thickest layer of ice is�.

 

Elated by finally having found a promising strategy for his problem, he
lightly jumped town the cold stone-pillar again and kneeled down at the spot
where he had cleaned the frozen lake from his cover of snow. 

Cocking back his fist, he rammed it deep into the ice, keeping a steady
rhythm of punches and following cracking noises for about half a minute.

 

Standing up again and wiping the few drops of already cooling sweat from his
forehead that the short exercise in combination with his excitement had
brought, he once more let his gaze drift along the side of the mountain
wherehe assumed the water would have most likely have come down.

 

Drawing a deep breath, he reached down and picked up one of the fist-sized
chunks of ice he had produced. Then he fired it towards one patch of snow
anda speed that one would hear the shattering of ice before actually
realizing it had left his hand. 

Continuing this way there was soon an almost constant falling and crashing
ofsnow and ice to be heard throughout the forest, sending flocks of black
birds flying off from their resting-places into the night.

 

Having brought down the covering of almost half of his suspected area, he
finally found what he had searched for. Slightly above the edge of the
brokenice and snow was the first ward engraved in the stone, and below it he
now knew he�d find the other four.

 

 Rummaging through the small backpack he had brought with him, he revealed
one of the more practical items ha had managed to acquire in this
godforsakenarea. 

Eagerly assembling his foldable spade he was quickly obscured by a fountain
of snow and ice being thrown onto the sky while doing his best imitation of
asnow-plough.

 

Having spent the better part of an hour with this work, the spade fell from
his limb hands, hitting with an audible �clink� on the frozen but now
clearedground. Lying stretched out on the frozen soil Ranma was slowly
lowering the frantic rhythm of his heart and fulfilling his aching muscles
demand for oxygen. 

 

Five minutes later the burning in his lungs and muscles had lessened enough
to take a closer look at his work, the now revealed scene of a boulder of
about 2 meters in diameter, being firmly stuck into a caves opening.

It was surrounded by 5 complicated runes engraved in the stone, forming
something like a pentagram with the boulder in the middle, who himself had a
sixth rune about one meter above Ranma�s head, where the eye-level of an
adult might have been. 

 

Grinning from one ear to the other at how close he had come his goal
already,he focused on the sequence in which he had to destroy them, unless
the whole energy of them would be released at once, destroying the better
part of the mountain as well as himself in the process.

 

At first, he knew, he had to destroy the one at the right side at the
bottom,which was shaped like circle with a horizontal line running through
it. The rock was already starting to erode in that area, freezing water and
temperature-shifts having forced numerous cracks into its otherwise smooth
surface. 

A quick three-punch combination made short work of the rune, whose failing
way accompanied with a couple of blue sparks dancing about the rocks
surface,one of them almost zapping Ranma, but luckily only leaving a small
scorch-mark on the sleeve of his jacket.

 

Resolving to be more careful with the next, the rune most to the left side
was next on his list. Flexing his knees, the pigtailed boy jumped into the
air, determined to make good damage to it with his first try. 

Although it was the rock�s crunching that was heard, the fairly painful
contact his fist had made with the frozen but otherwise undamaged stone made
Ranma wince, seeing how the difficulty of his task had just multiplied
itself.

 

 Flexing his fingers to make sure nothing was broken, he utilized a reversed
spin-kick to disable the second of the runes, whose destruction was once
moreaccompanied with blue lightning, as well as a groaning of the rock, as
ifgreat masses were shifting inside it�s icy surface.

 

Obliterating the remaining five runes, all of which consisted in some
combination of easy geometric patterns like triangles, circles or lines,
Ranma cracked his bleeding knuckles, his gaze focused only on the last of
therunes keeping the seal intact, the one on the boulder. 

In contrast to the others, this rune held some meaning to him, for he
believed that it was eternity which the horizontal eight represented, at
least in western mythology.

 

 It was surrounded by a circle that was cut about three centimetres deep
intothe stone, and even after all these years of erosion still looked as if
it was cut by a laser, which had moved effortlessly through the incredibly
hard material.

 

Already sporting sore knuckles, palms, knees and feet, Ranma jumped much
closer to the surface of the boulder then previous while keeping his hands
close to his body. At the last moment me made a lightning-fast rotation and
crashed his elbow, subconsciously aided by his ki, into the center of the
rune, where the lines of its eternity-symbol crossed.

 

Having lost the supporting strength of the other runes, the central one
burstinto a shower of sharp splinters and blue electricity, throwing the
young boy back almost a dozen meters, where he landed dazed in the soft bed
of snow. 

 

Drained of the energy which had prevented it's erosion for decades, the
boulder cracked and crumbled falling to pieces as the last of the sparks
dimmed in the night, once again leaving only the moonlight to brighten the
scene, which now seemed to have gotten unmistakably darker and threatening.

 

Silently moaning, the kid, who now sported various small cuts and bruises
asides from those on his limbs, struggled upright to look expectantly at the
black mouth of the cave. Waiting for it to spit out whatever salvation or
curse it had housed in the past. 

 

As nothing happened for the following minutes, and sitting in the snow was
rather quickly chilling him, Ranma once more unsteadily rose to his feet and
walked towards the entrance he had unsealed. 

Steadying his position with one hand at the edge of the stone, he called
intoit�s pitch-black depths with a voice that resonated the irrational fear
that had possessed him moments ago.

 

�H-h-ello? I-Is someb-body t-there?� Hearing his voice doubled and tripled
bythe cave�s walls, Ranma at least decided to make sure he really came here
in vain, so that he wouldn�t have to ask himself whether he could�ve done
more and given up prematurely. 

But before his first step could touch the stony ground of the cave, a
guttural noise somewhere between a roar and a whining came out of the cave. 

 

Luckily or not for the frightened kid, before his panic could overwhelm him
adark shadow shot out of the bowels of the cave, towards him. He didn't even
feel himself being tackled, and was unconscious before his body had time to
hit the ground.

 

 

 

 

Two month later new bruises had replaced the old ones, which Ranma was at
themoment bandaging and cleaning by himself, with expertise born from
practice. 

Sitting on a log some way asides the campfire, he could only snort in
disgustas the two fools were once more drinking themselves senseless while
hehad to go hungry.

 

His plan, as he had to admit already two days after its seeming success, had
failed. It had not only failed, it had literally turned around and exploded
in his face. 

How he could have thought that the man who had accepted his father as a
student would be better then him, let alone help him getting away from him
back home, was a miracle to him now. 

 

If anything, the little monster, who went by the name of Happusai as he now
knew, was worse, multiplied a hundredfold, then his father ever was. 

As far as Ranma was concerned, he was evil incarnate, destroying his life
where it had not yet reached it's absolute bottom and having the time of his
live during it.

 

While before his life had consisted of bone-breaking training, forced
marchesand thievery, it was now assembled of thievery, forced running away
because of this thievery, and getting a bone-breaking beating for exactly
thesame reason. 

 

 

Having his birthday forgot was not new to him, although most times his
fatherwould have somehow made it up to him.  Two days ago it was his
birthdayonce more, but nobody had seemed to notice. 

All �attention� he had received these days was consisted either of some
ridiculous training, assisting the little leech in his self proclaimed
�noblequest� to liberate panties from multiple not really pleased ladies, or
stealing together other stuff, mostly food or booze for the old idiots.

 

Packing away the meagre remains of his first-aid kit he once more wondered
where all those housewives got those pitchforks and torches so quickly from,
let alone the one with the battle-axe. 

He still had chills running down his spine as he remembered it's blade
missing his head by inches and cleanly slicing through the fruit one of the
merchants had on display on the market they had fled through.

 

It hadn�t raised his mood either when he had discovered that the �bounty� he
had literally risked his neck for consisted of a huge sack filled with beer
and sake and another one who now contained some adult magazines, still being
to attached to the pennant which had displayed them. 

 

That from the third sack, that held the former assets of the butchers his
father had raided in passing, he only got half a sausage which had simply
escaped the glutton�s inhalation of his contents, didn't add anything to his
mood was another point to add on his list to get even for.

 

Nope, even by the standard of the youngest Saotome�s life at this time, it
was a rather bad day.

It didn't help any that no matter how drunk the diminutive pervert seemed to
be, he still managed to sneak up on Ranma to attack him by surprise or
makinga pain in the ass of himself by other means. 

Not being fast or strong enough to fight back and having to acknowledge the
mastery of this bane on his existence while being held down in a pain lock
orsimilar as well worked to make his blood boil and freeze at the same time.


 

But for some reason it was different on this day. Seeing his father once
morein his drunken stupor, a small puddle of sake all that remained of the
third bottle he had emptied that evening, he knew he couldn�t count on a
distraction, much less help from his side this time. 

 

Although Genma too had to answer to Happusai as his student, his deep fear
and dislike at times made him easy to manipulate in taking some of the
pressure from Ranma. Not so this time.

 

As he was mercilessly teased, about his mother no less, by the old
grandmaster of his school, something seemed to snap inside the young boy�s
control. He didn't go berserk, neither did he break down or give in to the
old man�s teasing.

 

It was rather like he could for the first time really see, beyond the veil
ofhis frustration and anger, at how his life really was at the moment, and
how it came to be this way.

With a snarl rather befitting a young wolf or rabid dog, he lunged at the
diminutive elder�s throat. 

 

For Happusai, it was like his world had reversed itself. Aside from what
might others think, or what he�d lead them on to think of him, he really
liked children. He loved to be around them, amongst beings that had so much
potential, so much energy and curiosity that they could literally become and
be anything. 

 

Not even himself, with his countless decades of experience amongst masters
ofself-control as well as na�ve fools, could predict them, could picture
where they�d be in a year�s, in a decades time. 

It was what really kept him young, to see such kids and to teach them, to
somehow mould them into what he would wish them to be. He knew, inside
himself and not quite as deep as he would have liked to, that it was not
likethis with Ranma. 

 

He was his teichi, his student in the art, in addition to being the son of
one of his students, and as such he somehow felt that it would be wrong to
spoil him, to show any kind of weakness of sympathy towards him. 

Hardship was an integral part of his training after all. 

 

Somehow he was a bit disappointed as well, that the young lad, though
practically exploding with potential and determination, almost never stood
upto him. Never fleeing from confrontation but neither contributing to it. 

Happusai never quite knew what to make of him. 

 

All of these things however didn't take any part in his thoughts, as the
shocked grandmaster was held to a tree by his throat at the hand of his
student.  

For his life Happusai couldn�t figure out how he had been overcome like
this,or why he wasn�t able to turn away his eyes from those blue-grey orbs
burning with hate and pain that held his.

 

�Do you think I like this?!? rumbled the young boy in such a low and
menacingvoice that it shouldn�t have been possible or at least completely
outof place for somebody of his age.

 

 �Do you think you can do anything with me just as you like? I tell you, you
can�t!! And if it kills me to stop you, because death will be the only thing
to make this hell end for me. You want to know the reason I live through
thishell every day? Something you couldn�t understand if your life depended
on it. I made a promise, I promise to come back the best I can. That�s my
only reason to live, and if you ever attempt to take that away from me
again,I swear I will kill you. You hear me old man? I will kill you.�

 

Opening he vice-like grip on the old man�s throat, not yet daring to look
away from his master�s eyes, he took some shaky steps backwards before
dashing into the woods, out of the circle of light the glowing coals
provided, his trembling hands tightly clenched. 

 

Slipping down the rough bark of the tree, all Happusai could do was to
absently rub where Ranma�s hand had been seconds before. 

Not that he was hurt in any way, neither strength nor speed of the attack
hadbeen anywhere good enough to actually do any damage, it had rather come
toa complete shock to him what Ranma had said then did.

 

Hardship was one thing, living a life one considered hell and still going
through it , that he of all people should be a reason, a cause of that. It
just was something Happusai never wanted to feel again, and wished he never
had.

 

Unsteadily regaining his feet, he walked back to the rapidly fading
campfire,mumbling to no one in particular: �I hope there�s some sake left,
ifI ever needed one it's now.�

 

 

 

--------------end chapter two-----------------

 

For some people, summer is without question the most beautiful of all
seasons. The country, in spring only reluctantly awakening from it's
enforcedslumber of winter, now shows itself in an abundance of colours and
forms, awing and reviving those who had almost gotten used to the monotonous
grey and white of winter. 

Like a victorious general returning from battle, all reminders of the harsh
coldness are eradicated, showing that not only winter was once more
defeated,but almost as if summer was this time here to stay.

 

Others, for thank god not all people are the same, take immensely more joy
and delight from the coldest of the seasons. Walking hand in hand with their
lovers through avenues whose trees were, covered in ice and snow and
glistering like coated with diamonds, frozen in time, nothing could exceed
such a moment for them. 

Looking forward to spending evenings in front of open fireplaces or enjoying
themselves making the first snow-angel of the season, they couldn't think of
any season with more beauty or calmness like this.

 

These two figures walking through the almost empty streets of the Neriman
outskirts however, made the appearance that they couldn�t care less if it
were the void of space, cold and completely absent of any light, or the
blazing fires of hell that framed the way to their destination.

 

Briskly walking through the dark streets, only occasionally passing beneath
asharply defined circle of light thrown by the streetlights, it seemed that
the reason for their swift pace, if there was one, only consisted that they
once had started this way and saw no point in  a change.

 

Although it is said that in the night, all cats are grey, the islands of
light on the streets, asides from some rare shop-windows the only
illumination in the cold autumn-night, made it possible to catch one the
other quick glance at the passing figures. 

 

That the only living thing out there to use the opportunity, a jet-black
alley-cat in search for dinner, paid more attention to a fatally careless
mouse then the trespassing humanoids, however spoiled the chance to know
moreabout the two figures

.

At least besides that both were carrying enormous backpacks that, in opinion
of the cat that is, would be better filled with fish then with whatever
useless junk those clumsy humans carried with them anyway.

 

Nearing the edge of the district of Nerima, although there was no visible
change in his behaviour, the smaller mans companion could sense a slight
feeling of curiosity entering his friends thoughts. 

It was usual for the man, a master in the art himself, to lapse in the
concealment of his thoughts and intentions, but they had travelled together
for years and on more then one occasion saved each others hide. 

And since there was nobody else out there, it was a small but however
welcomeassurance to the other traveller that this trivial and perhaps even
involuntary gesture brought him.

 

At last however, the two companions arrived at their destiny. Standing
halfway in the illuminated circle provided by a streetlight, the old man
could see the slight cover of crystallised fog on the wooden gate and it's
handle, wiped away where the last person entering had touched it. 

 

If before it was a mere idea, an abstract plan to come here, this was the
last proof Happusai needed that he had committed himself. 

He just prayed that he hadn�t made a mistake by choosing this path. With
these thoughts he pushed open the gate to an estate and a family he hadn't
seen for almost two decades.

 

 

 

 

Inside the Tendo-dojo the events at dinner had spiralled down the same way
they had since the day the letter from China, announcing the old master and
his disciple, had arrived. While Kasumi still held the radiant but somehow
oblivious smile, the old Saotome now had to help himself to his
extra-helpings. 

Not that, talking about oblivious, Kasumi�s response (which was tantamount
tosomething that would involve being brained with a blunt object the size of
a tank were it anybody else) provoked any reaction at the elder Saotome.

 

But while the young matriarch of the Tendo-family couldn't bring herself to
anything harsher than a slight decrease in her omnipresent smile, the other
family-members were more then happy to oblige the necessities of the moment,
in other words turning on Genma Saotome like a pack of wolves. 

 

Ever since three days ago, when Soun Tendo had finally learned the true
storybehind his friends premature arrival, he couldn't help but feel disgust
and bitter disappointment at what his old friend and comrade in arms had
become.

 

 The fears and trials they had mastered together, how they had fought,
literally as one, to be rid of that�.. that pest, and now this. But no, Soun
Tendo had not yet reached the stage of moralistic judgement and righteous
anger, no, at the moment he was quite satisfied to yell at his friend at
every opportunity, be it night or day.

 

This habit had taken on a degree where Genma had to belt out his friend by
the window to get at least some shut-eye before the tormenting resumed at
thebreakfast-table. Not that this hindered the Tendo-patriarch to crash into
the guest room about half an hour after leaving, or rather being made
leaving, it to seamlessly resume his unique mixture of accusations, fearful
babbling and wailing. 

 

That, for some metaphysical reason, didn't leave him dried-up like a mummy
because of fluid-loss dues to his fountain-like bursts of tears, they didn't
even regularly manage to annoy Genma, since he had bought an inflatable
mattress shortly after arriving. 

 

As it was, only being woken up a dozen times at night by his hysterical host
annoyed him, but falling asleep with the sound of slight waves breaking at
his mattress (thanks to fountain-sama again) had, as he found, a really
calming effect.

 

At this time however, all habitants of the Tendo-household sported, after
three days of semi-madness by their father/host, dark rings under their eyes
and a rather short temper. 

As was expressed by Kasumi having the slightest of frowns on her face Soun
was doing as before described, and Akane belting him with objects of various
kinds and sizes. 

 

If for real moralistic resentment against his person or just because she
enjoyed it will however remain unknown.

 

Having once more completed his circle of angry accusation / shocked denial /
severe depression with occasional flooding of living-rooms / spreading of
doomsday-atmosphere, the patriarch of the Tendo�s felt himself once more in
the need to accuse what was in his opinion a worthy replacement for the
firstof the deadly sins (most likely something like �Thou shalt not leave
yerkin with Happusai�).

 

Feeling himself once more cornered in his friends� house, leaving was out of
question, being followed everywhere by a wailing Soun while Nabiki was
filming all of it with a ridiculously big camera was just too much to bear a
second time, Genma Saotome sighed to himself once more and once again
startedthe tale he had seen fit to be told his host. 

 

What should he do else anyway, the things being as they were (where had that
girl got the sound-engineer for the microphone from???) he couldn't do much
else but try to stall, buy time, and hope that somehow things would sort out
themselves or at least give him an opportunity to flee (had that been a van
for satellite-transmission around the corner???).

 

 And he had long since learned that the simple fact that Nabiki was at the
moment not in the house, but doing one or the other of her dubious errands
with her associates, didn't necessarily mean she wouldn�t at some
inconvenient time produce film or sound recordings made by means he better
didn't think about.

 

Once again resuming his tale while dodging several rather heavy-looking
objects on collision-course with his head (the Tendo�s didn't have 
marble-statues of Greek gods in their house, did they?), the various
one-sided tales/accusations/discussions were once more disrupted when two
knocks in rapid succession sounded from the front-porch. 

 

The sinking feeling in everybody's intestines was accompanied with an
unmistakably joyful exclamation from Kasumi:� Oh my father, there�s somebody
at the door. Do you think it could be Master Happusai and Ranma?�  

 

Not waiting for reply asides from 2 faces becoming several shades paler, she
gracefully rose and walked towards the door, the rustling of her long blue
skirt the only sound in the room. Inside the minds of the two adults in the
house, whole choirs of voices were screaming: �Stop her!!!� , �Don�t let him
in!!� or �Kill him before he kills you!!!�. 

 

Well, maybe they were in a little bit of panic, but since both of them were
frozen like 2 cubes of ice, it didn't really matter what they thought anyway
as the door opened and Kasumi greeted their guests with a winning smile.

 

 

 

 

Slightly hesitating, the two black-clad figures entered through the door
helpopen by Kasumi. After taking a thoughtful look at the smiling girl,
Happusai was the first to enter the household in which he had caused the
state of a mediocre war-zone without actually being there. 

 

Not knowing, or actually caring, if his former students were upset,
terrified, or even a short way from a cardiac attack for all he cared, he
took two steps into the house. Leaving enough place to let Ranma enter
shortly after him, Happusai returned Kasumi�s smile (without actually
appearing frightful or lecherous for once) and greeted the first of his
hosts, as he had concluded, with a deep bow.

 

�Can I assume that you are Kasumi-san?� the diminutive master asked, while
his companion had only held eye-contact with the brown-haired girl for a
moment and now stood at Happusai�s right with his head held low so his bangs
concealed his blue-grey eyes.

�Yes, I am Kasumi; may I ask how you know me, master Happusai, is it?� 
returned the brunette girl, while attempting to help the elder master out of
his black mantle.

 

�Oh, I see my reputation is ahead of me as always�� replied the old man, now
revealing his brown gi, and for the first time wearing something like a
smug-grin on his old face, but without actually being impolite.

�You see, Kasumi-san, i actually saw you once, though you will not remember.
It was just a few days after your birth, and I was one of the first people
tosee you then.�

 

Slightly blushing at meeting somebody who knew her so well without knowing
ofhim, She turned towards her second guest who had, clad in black as well,
bynow closed the door behind him to keep out the cold nights wind. �And who,
may I ask, is your companion master Happusai?� Kasumi asked.

 Although she already knew that it had to be Ranma, she somehow felt that it
wouldn�t be wise to press the young boy in front of her into a conversation
he didn't want to enter.

 

�Oh, i�m sorry Kasumi-san.�  Happusai filled in, �This of course is Ranma,
asyou will know he is Genma�s son as well as my student. Say hello to
Kasumi-san Ranma.�  Said boy lifted his head to once again look in the
beautiful eyes of his hostess. 

 

Bowing low as Happusai had done moments before, �Hello Kasumi-san� was the
short greeting that conveyed nothing but simple politeness, though his eyes
betrayed a hint of depression that vanished to her sight as soon as his
blackbangs were once more obscuring them.

 

Adding a point �Cheering up Ranma� on her list right underneath �Get more
sedatives for father�, Kasumi helped Ranma out of his own black mantle which
she hung asides the first one in the wardrobe. 

 

Ushering her guests from the entry to the warm living-room, the same scene
ofa frozen Soun and Genma (who was by now lying horizontally, still frozen
inshock, thanks to not-dodging something that strangely resembled a
stone-head from the easter-islands which now decorated the edge of the
koi-pond) as 5 minutes ago greeted the arrivals, only that the curious looks
from Akane now were measuring up the two arrivals with unconcealed interest.

 

Now that all were successfully assembled in the living-room, Kasumi quickly
glided into the kitchen for 2 more cups and fresh pot of tea, as well as a
tray of Kasumi-trademark cookies (trademark thanks to Nabiki, who now was
dealing them at the international market at higher prices as the best white
truffles).

 

Happusai however had other plans for tonight�s evening, as he addressed the
two men who had now recovered enough from their shock to assume the
positionsof their most effective techniques. Genma�s not-so-feared `Crouch
ofthe wild tiger�, and Soun�s own variation �Carp on chopping-board�.

 

Unfazed by his two students cowardly behaviour Happusai addressed the two of
the three girls of the house being present and watching their father/guest
making a fool of themselves with the air of a connoisseur, only noticing
slight variations of the standard-idiocy.

 

�Could you girls please show Ranma the dojo, I�d like to have a few words
with my students in private.� Only nodding an affirmative at the seriousness
of the request (instead of the looting and plundering little demon they had
anticipated from their fathers reaction) the two rose and mentioned Ranma to
follow them, a beginning conversation from Akane was drowned to the adults
asthe door closed behind the leaving teenagers.

 

 

 

 

The moment the children had left the two cowering adults increased their
pleading for mercy, either for ones house since it was all that his family
had left, or plain for ones life and to take his son�s instead.

 

 Still staring at the same spot on the wall since behind where Soun�s
daughters had sat, Happusai suddenly shook himself out of his reverie to
looksharply at the two fools, squashing their meagre hopes to get away
unscathed from the personified terror that had decided to haunt� ah.. visit
them. 

 

�Shut up you fools and you better listen well now if you know what�s good
foryou!!� This was more then enough to silence the two who were still trying
to creep into the cracks of the floor. 

�Listen too me, this is very important� resumed the old master who was now
speaking in a more placid but in no way less commanding tone. �On our
voyage�. something�. happened to Ranma��

 

Within an eyeblink the elder Saotome was on his feet lunging at Happusai, to
shake the information out of him if necessary to know what happened to his
son. 

Before his fingers could touch the grandmasters gi or his feet reach the
ground again from his lunge, Happusai�s left hand shot out at an
unbelievablespeed to meet the elder Saotome�s solarplexus. 

 

Flying backwards, drops of saliva hanging in the air from the shock of the
impact, Genma came to lye right at the place he started from, convulsing and
heaving dry from the blow he had received.

 

Soun had terrified backed up when his friends �attack� had backfired, by now
he was sitting halfway up the table, his left hand having knocked down a cup
of lukewarm tea which was now spilled out in a slowly expanding puddle
aroundhis hand and dripping on the rug beneath the table. 

This however did not register in his brain since all it was capable at the
moment was needed to continue gaping like a fish on land as he watched his
friend quivering on the floor of his house.

 

Happusai let a small fraction of his power flare up, creating an unreal halo
of dark blue intermixed with strands of black whipping around his diminutive
body like unholy flames.

 

�I said you should shut up and listen, try that again and i�ll break your
neck like a twig� roared the chi-strengthened voice of the old man, each
wordaccentuated by a whipping and lashing of the black fire consuming more
and more of the elders aura.

 

Black eyes in a roaring black fire made the appearance of a demon appearing
in the Tendo�s living-room, a very small shrivelled-up demon but a demon
nevertheless. 

Seeing his former students almost wetting themselves Happusai sighed
inwardlythat he had to result to such blunt means to get them to really
listen to him, but knowing them as good as he did he knew time was something
he didn't have here. 

 

He knew about their foolish plan for Ranma of course. Having trained and
travelled with the two men for years, he had known their wives when they had
begun to court them, he had seen their first children after they were born
aswell as learned about their plans for them.

 

If the idea had been good or not at the day it was born, there could be no
worse moment to try and enforce it, and he would be dammed if he wouldn�t
prevent it, at least for the moment. �Sit down and listen you two� repeated
the old man, not roaring but speaking in an almost weary tone, his aura
leaving the visible spectrum again. 

 

�You know I gave you a promise Genma before we parted, and I intend to keep
that promise, even if it means to go against you two. I�ve come here because
we needed a place to stay for a while, but don�t think I put up with any or
your stupidities for as much as a moment.�

 

Stopping to stride up and down before the two terrified martial-artists
Happusai once more looked at them, this time eyes filled with sorrow and
determination. �Now listen, I don�t need your help on this, but it would be
better to have it anyway.�

 

 

 

 

Having put on some of the pairs of slippers that were lined up asides the
door, Kasumi led their guest to her family�s dojo, while Akane was proudly
relating the tale of how her father had constructed it on his own now almost
20 years ago. 

 

It was quite an interesting tale in itself for somebody interested in the
matter of traditional Japanese building traditions, from the materials to
themeans to prepare and craft them, even the Shinto-rituals to clean and
protect the structure and it's inhabitants, all of it showed a great deal of
devotion and attachment to the building and what it symbolized.

 

That the black-haired boy didn't provide any sign of understanding or even
listening to the information�s didn't however faze Akane, if she was aware
ofit at all. 

Letting his eyes take in the layout and details of, for a suburb of Nerima,
the very large and tasteful estate, Ranma neared the doors of the
Tendo-dojo,Kasumi to his right. 

 

Meanwhile Akane was still intensely occupied with continuing her tale, glad
about having found a vict�. person willing to listen who hadn't already
heardit about a dozen times.

 

Eagerly waiting at the dojo to let her sister and their guest catch up with
her, Akane couldn't help but let a proud grin flash over her face when she
opened the doors and let them in quickly before too much of the cold
autumn-air could follow them in through the opening. 

 

Excited to having somebody to show the dojo to, Akane soon was buzzing
around, all but dragging the pigtailed boy around, showing him an impressive
assortment of training and actual combat-weapons.

 

Eve from the pile of cinder-blocks she used for her training (the third one
this week, as Nabiki�s heavy sighs commented at every monthly
balance-calculation to the spider living atop of one of the rafters, nothing
escaped to be on list of Akane�s impromptu- tour through the dojo.  

 

Finally seeing the moment come to rescue Ranma from Akane�s overbearing
excitement, Kasumi gently asked if it were true that he had been training in
China and how he had liked it there. Her hesitation, resulting from a badly
hidden wince on Ranma�s side, was more then enough time for Akane to take
theleading part in the conversation again.

 

�So you do kempo Ranma?� was the inevitable question, which for so many
unsuspecting teenagers before had ended in an exceedingly quick, brutal and
painful trip to the one thing of the dojo they hadn't yet inspected in
detail: the floor (for some with a detour from one of the walls, something
they�d gladly have refrained from).

 

Only hesitantly the movement of the black braid indicated a slight nod from
it's owner, more then Akane needed to quickly turn her confused sister into
areferee, dragging her aside a chalk-circle painted on the floor, and assume
a position, obviously waiting for Ranma to do the same.

 

Raising his head again to know the reason for the sudden silence by his
host,the sole reaction on Akane's expecting demeanour was a look devoid of
any emotion, before he returned to the place at the doors, where he had
watched out into the black sky at every chance Akane�s excitement had given
him.

 

Seeing that her guest showed no intention to follow Akane's urging, and not
wanting her guest, who was obviously not planning on participating in the
spar, to be pressed into something against his will, Kasumi quickly walked
upto Ranma and laid her hand on his shoulder. 

�You must be terribly tired from your journey Ranma-kun, why don�t you take
abath in the furo. I�ve heated the water before you arrived and i�m sure
you�ll feel much better afterwards.�

 

 Seeing the sincere concern and sympathy on the face of the eldest daughter,
as well as a perfect chance to escape the situation, Ranma consented and
followed Kasumi back o the house.

He was leaving behind a confused and angry Akane (silenced in time by a
slight shaking of Kasumi�s head) seething in the circle of chalk. 

 

If cinder-blocks were sentient beings, they would most likely have felt a
strong foreboding of doom.

 

 

 

 

Feeling the tension and nervousness literally flowing out of his muscles,
Ranma began to appreciate Kasumi�s idea more by the minute. 

He hadn't wanted to be rude to the youngest daughter, Akane if he remembered
correctly, but he had to admit that Kasumi�s sensible reaction had just in
time prevented a harsh rebuff that would have damaged his relations to his
hosts at a very early stage, perhaps irreparably. 

 

 Having successfully avoided bringing Happusai�s plan to fall, for the first
time the young Saotome lowered his guard, letting the hot water and the
steamrising from it�s surface soothe his troubled mind into an almost
trance-like state.

 

After being ushered from the dojo by Kasumi and being shown the door of the
bathroom, Ranma had once again to admire whoever had planned the
Tendo-estate. 

On his trip through the whole country of Japan, before China as well as
afterwards, he had stayed at numerous dojo�s or friendly houses, many of
themhundreds of years old. 

 

Some of them could have even been called luxurious, but covering an overall
impression of style and homeliness, none of them could have hoped to compete
with this one.

 

Taking off his sleeveless black silk-shirt and opening the drawstrings of
hisrobust silk-pants, that were black as well, Ranma took care to conceal a
pair of black throwing-daggers underneath the rest of his clothes.

The style as well as the habit he had picked up at the home of one of his
masters, and had since then neither questioned nor bothered to break it.

 

Engaging in one of the techniques Happusai had recently taught him, he
entered a slight state of meditation, which allowed him to sort through his
memories and emotions, while at the same time not allowing them to affect
hisown state of mind. 

Thus slowly working on reigning in his restless psyche, Ranma was
unfortunately blind to anything but his immediate surroundings.

 

 

Not being the center of attraction, Akane could live with. Having to put up
with being cut off by her own sister, Akane could do that too. Not being
taken for the martial artist she was sure she was, Akane never could do
that.

But the thought of being ignored, treated like she wasn�t even there, by
that�. THAT BOY. The thought alone made her blood boil, and sent the
patron-goddess of cinder-blocks into another crying-fit.

 

Seeing no other victims for her rage at hand and the training-dummies still
being in repair after last weeks Kuno-no-baka-session, Akane let out a deep
breath while she looked at the carnage of 20 minutes of destruction.

 

Having nothing more to vent her anger on, she stepped barefooted through the
pieces and dust of countless cinderblocks, searching with her still rampant
mind for some release that allowed her not to see THAT BOY again and beat
himinto a pulp at the slightest movement.

 

Finally shoving aside any thought of the newest addition of her
�stupid-boys�list (that at the moment held about 80% of the male population
of Nerima), she finally settled on a relaxing bath in the furo, a last
sanctuary of peace even in these times of madness. 

 

Lowering her head so as not to show her angry eyes to Kasumi or her father,
Akane pushed open the door to the furo and quickly shed off her sweat-soaked
gi.

 

Not bothering to take out a towel from the freshly cleaned stack that was
laid out on a bench, her thoughts solely diverted between the hot water of
the furo she was about to enter and a certain infuriating pigtailed
teenager,she pushed open the door to the furo with quite a bit more force
then actually needed. 

 

 

Reflexes are an interesting thing. For example cockroaches, even with a
�brain� that consist of 2 barely interwoven strands of nerves, they manage
toflee at the slightest sign of a threat, evading attacks from beings whose
brains alone exceed their weight more then a hundredfold. Or birds, who are
able to build the most complex of constructions out of nothing but grass,
with a brain the size of a peanut and never once having learned it. 

 

Or a female teenager martial artists who was so used to reacting with yells
of �PERVERT�, �HENTAI� or �BAKA� at the slightest sign of something sexual,
all of them in combination with various grades of violence, that a mad dash
for the family-blade at the sight of the nude boy in the furo was something
very natural for her. 

For Akane Tendo that is, thank god not for anybody else.

 

Feeling disturbed by something in his meditative state, only the second time
the bathroom-door crashed open, this time with the force of a freight-train,
was loud enough to finally pull the young Saotome�s mind back to reality.

 

Being greeted with the sight of a nude 16 year old girl charging at him like
an enraged buffalo and wielding something much too long, sharp and deadly
forhis liking wasn�t something he was prepared for at all.

 

For martial-artists reflexes are a crucial factor when it comes to fighting.
Kicking in at the right time, they could save one�s head where no conscious
reaction would be fast enough, but they could also cost the same head, if
dodging the first obvious attack means running straight into the one
following up. 

 

What the young Saotome�s mind however based his reaction on was neither pure
reflex nor conscious decision, but bottomless fear.

 The sight of the amok-running girl wielding a katana being swung at his
throat overrode whatever inhibitions or rational thought his mind was
capableof at this moment.

 

Jumping from a sitting position in the furo to an aggressive stance behind
its tiled wall his form was obscured by a spray of water that had followed
his backwards-leap. 

 

Out his left palm, before his second foot had even touched the ground, a
distortion rapidly expanded, only to be spotted by seeing a section of the
spray of water explode into a fine mist, shooting towards the unsuspecting
girl who was rammed into the tiled wall of the furo with enough force to
crack them and leave a huge dent in the brick-wall.

 

Already alarmed by a naked Akane having murder in her eyes, within seconds
the diminutive grandmaster as well as his two students and Kasumi were
running for the source of the crash

 

Sliding around the corner of door to the bathrooms anteroom, the missing
doorto the furo allowed the concerned Happusai to see his worst fears
confirmed and only having calculated this remote possibility in advance kept
him from freezing at the sight of his disciple.

 

Standing behind the circular wall of the furo which was covering his modesty
(at least from Happusai�s perspective, as Kasumi�s severe blush was showing)
Ranma was still holding his left arm raised towards his target, a high
concentration of invisible ki distorting the air like the waves over deserts
dunes.

 

His right hand however, in no threatening position to the other observers
whoere skidding around the corner, was more then anything else concerning
theaged martial-artist. Only a couple of drops moving strangely through the
air indicated, what Happusai more felt then saw.

 

A sword of chi-hardened air was poised in the pigtailed boys right hand,
droplets of water running down it�s invisible edge. 

As he saw it, only the sudden entrance of the concerned group had hindered
the �autopilot� that Ranma was running on now to finish off the threat to
him, namely Akane, who was lying crumpled at the floor of the room. 

 

Tiny flows of blood from where the broke tiles had cut her were by now
accumulating in sharp contrast to the clean white of the floor. 

 

Seeing no other chance and being the only one really trusted by Ranma
Happusai began his plan to talk Ranma out of his autopiloted behaviour.

 

Speaking in a soothing but insistent voice, he only prayed that the gods
wereon his side today, or things would get messy soon.

 

 

 

 

�Ranma!!� the old master began, �Ranma my boy, look at me! Damn it look at
meyou stubborn ox!!� 

Succeeding with his gamble, the empty eyes slowly drew away their focus from
the crumpled girl to the source of the voice, the sphere of chi slightly
quivering and losing it's circular shape, though not even beginning do
dissipate.

 

�Look Ranma who�s here, it�s Kasumi!! Do you think she�ll attack you Ranma,
or that I will? Relax boy, everything�s okay now, nobody wants to hurt you
anymore!!�  

 

Seeing no reaction from the boy Happusai grew desperate, he had no illusions
that he couldn't stop Ranma if he chose to attack, less he got in a lucky
blow and killed him instantly. 

 

�Do you want to hurt Kasumi Ranma? Please calm down, or innocents could get
hurt. You here me boy, there are innocents here!!�

 

Having played his last ace, he could do nothing more but painfully watch as
Ranma�s consciousness fought over dominance with his fear-induced panic. 

After what seemed an eternity the sphere of translucent chi dissipated in a
slight shockwave, blowing away the wet black bangs that had until now partly
obscured the blue-grey eyes that now were filled with terror and shock. 

 

Yielding to the emotional breakdown his mind had already sustained, the
youngboy�s body fell to its knees with a strangled sob, before collapsing
bonelessly on the cold tiles of the floor.

 

Having laid the unconscious Akane in her bed and the minor cuts cleaned and
bandaged by Kasumi, as well as having put Ranma in a pair of silk pyjamas
andlaid in the guest-room where he had been meant to sleep anyway, the
residents of the Tendo-dojo, minus Nabiki who still hadn't come hope but in
addition of Happusai, assembled at the table for the umpteenth time these
days, to come to terms with the latest development of events in their lives.

 

An unconscious black-haired girl, still peacefully remaining in Morpheus
grasp, didn't witness any of the discussions that went until deep into the
night, neither did a pigtailed boy, whose tormented mind was reliving worlds
of blood, fire and pain over and over again, as it hat for days.

 

 

-------------------end chapter three---------------

 

 

 

Authors notes:

 

Since this is my first fanfic i�m strongly encouraging c&c on it, especially
because the replies of my 
two would-be prereaders were absolute zero.

(by the way, if one or the other experienced writer would be willing to 
lend me a hand as a prereader i�d be very gratefull)

I�m planning on making this a Ranma/Highlander crossover, something that
along with loads of other stuff 
will come in chapter 4, so please don�t get impatient with the slow pace of
the story ;)

I haven�t consciously ripped any ideas from other authors short of the
air-sword that was as far as i 
can tell originally an idea of Dark Phoenix (Jonathan Ford) but i hope
lending that idea won�t 
count as plagiatism ;)

Well, what else,  i�m planning on making this fic a non-canon matchup
beginning in the next 2 chapters. 
As well i�m thinking about if and how i should bring Ukyo and Ryoga into the
story, if anybody has got 
some ideas on that they are more then welcome to help me :)
THe amazons WILL make their entrance in the story, just about how and with
which intents i�m not sure.

Ok, so much concerning my first attempt at fanfiction, i hope you�ll
somewhatenjoy it :)

 

NemoZero

 

 

------------after here there�s nothing, zero, nada, ncihts, rein.... got it?
;) -------------------

 

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