Hey, gang. ^_^

Well, chapter 1 is done. I'm finally ready to post it. [If for some reason
the formatting should come out looking like trash, the fic is on the 
website,
formatted correctly, with previous chapters.]

Of course, I'm not 100% sure it's ready to be seen, but I can only scour
the thing so many times for errors and things I would like to change before
I begin to fail in being objective and just start hacking and slashing the
heck out of the story, so I'll leave it to you, the gracious C&Cer.

I would like to point out that I changed the title in the subject to "TotD"
because it fits so much nicer than "Twilight of the Dead." I hope no one
gets confused (what am I saying? You're all much too smart for that!) ^_^

I know I said in the Interlude post that it might be a few days before this
came (did that mini-chapter even make it to the list? I'm unsure -- a lot of
people seem to be having problems with it. If in doubt, I'll e-mail
someone I know on the list a few days after posting this to see if it came
through) but I got the led out, let my new pre-reader (or listener, as is 
the
case as I tend to read it aloud to her) see it, and now it's time to fish or 
cut
bait.

Hope you enjoy. ^_^

-J.

PS: Could someone give me some in-depth advice on formatting the story?
I used to be okay at it a few years back, but even though I've gotten the
line-breaks down, I keep ending up with paragraphs of all different shapes,
sizes and lengths. It's ugly to look at, and the worst part is that in Word,
it looks fine. In Note Pad, it looks fine. I paste it into my e-mail window,
and it's all down-hill from there.

Any help?

-------------------------------------------------------------------
Twilight of the Dead - Series I
A Ranma/Day of the Dead Crossover
-------------------------------------------------------------------
By J. Thomas Jeans

E-mail:
spikerevell@excite.com

Webpage:
http://www.angelfire.com/crazy/ranma_twilight
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/745152/
-------------------------------------------------------------------

==============================
Chapter I � PRELUDE to TERROR
==============================

NINE MONTHS EARLIER...


Ranma Saotome woke with a start. He wasn't sure what had woken him,
but something was wrong. He had an innate ability to sense oncoming
danger (or impending doom, which was probably a more appropriate
description) and it never failed. In most cases, it gave him ample time to
prepare for whatever craziness might ensue.

The only exceptions were those instances in which he managed to drift off
to sleep during first period home room. He didn't know how loud he'd
been snoring, or even that he had been doing it at all, but all eyes were on
him.

Daisuke and Hiroshi exchanged a knowing glance. Ranma's in-class antics
never failed to offer a diversion from the ennui nature of class work. As
sure as the sun woke in the east and slept in the west, Ranma Saotome
would make a fool of himself, at least once a day, as if on some kind of
cosmic cue.

It took what seemed like infinity, but Ranma's sleep-blurred vision finally
began to clear. Having tried to meet his mother two days, he was
emotionally exhausting. The task had also turned out to be a training
mission in its own right. Genma had gone to enormous lengths to maintain
what he had since referred to as a "healthy gap" between Ranma and his
mother. The task had proven to be, among other things, physically
overwhelming.

While coming out of his exhaustion-induced stupor, Ranma suddenly
remembered the dream, the dream about his mother, the dream that had
haunted him two nights consecutively, and now during his brief first
period nap. The memory was slipping fast, retreating from his mind with
the quickness of a thief in the night, discovered but un-captured, escaping
into the safety of all-encompassing darkness.

"Ranma!"

Akane's voice... and boy, did she ever sound ticked off! But for what,
Ranma wondered. He was sleeping in class, yes, but it was no different
than his usual foolishness, the kind of thing that he thought she might one
day come to find endearing.

In the few lingering moments of his sleep haze, Ranma could see himself
as clearly as he had seen his mother's face, head down on his desk, eyes
closed. The snoring was none too polite, but Akane simply watched him
from one seat over, her lips curled in a cute little smile. It was so 
adorable
Ranma thought she just might start cooing, making those obligatory cute
sounds that women sometimes made when gathered around a newborn
baby.

When Ranma pictured her like that, Akane really was just what he
sometimes thought she could be -- a friend, someone he trusted with his
problems, who trusted him with her own, who came to him when things
seemed too much to handle and there was no one else to turn to. He would
be the kind of friend she could count on, that she could lean on for support
and turn to for strength.

No, he would be more than just a friend, more than someone Akane would
talk to and lean on. He would hold her in his arms, embarrassed at first but
finding strength in their embrace, her tenderness and warmth, kindness
and compassion flowing through him, the very foundation on which true
strength was built. She would complete him as a person; she would be the
person Ranma lo--

"Get off!"

Ranma felt the all-to-familiar grind of lean knuckles against his thin
jawbone, and it ripped him -- quite violently, one might add -- from the
state of euphoria that existed between the waking and sleeping realm. His
beautiful Akane was gone; the un-cute tomboy was back.

"Hey, what'd ya do that f--" Ranma began, but quickly he froze. Words
failed him entirely, cascaded by the returning image of his mother. The
memory of the dream bombarded his senses and shocked him beyond the
implications of the situation he was now in.


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


In the dream, Nodoka walked along a dried up riverbed, wooden sandals
compressing pellet-sized pebbles into the bed's dehydrated top soil. She
held one hand extended elegantly out to her side, cutting a swath in the air
as she moved. What struck Ranma as peculiar was the way it literally cut
the air, leaving a frothing wake pulsating behind it, distorting the air 
like a
slithering wave of heat. The wake only went as far as her wrist, the air
surrounding her arms, trunk and legs left undisturbed.

>From the opposite direction, Ranma walked toward his mother. His need
to go to her shadowed the fact that the going was difficult, as though a 
pair
of hands were pressed against his chest, pushing him in the opposite
direction.

He could see Nodoka's eyes, full of warmth and -- dare he think it -- love.
She was coming to him and finally they would be reunited, a son who had
grown up to become a man among men and a mother who longed to be
united with the child she gave up eleven years ago.

Ranma did not notice the clouds overhead, which resembled an uneasy
portrait of the sea, frozen forever in chaotic upheaval. If he had noticed
them, however, he might have been disturbed to realize that a cluster of
clouds directly above and equally as wide as the riverbed was flowing
freely, moving in the same direction as Nodoka. They billowed and
shifted, adjusting to resemble the wake left by her fin-like hand
movements.

Ranma was very near his mother when suddenly she was gone. She had
not left the path, nor had she vanished before his eyes, she simply was not
there anymore. Desperation overcame him, cocooning him, constricting
his breathing until he felt as though he might pass out. He spun in a 
circle,
eyes searching, and when he had come about face he found that he was no
longer in the desert-like riverbed, but in the city, standing in a vacant 
lot.

The property looked as though a building had once stood there, but had
long since been demolished. Scattered piles of crumbled concrete and
splintered shards of glass gave the impression of disorder, but Ranma felt,
irrationally so, that the word chaos was more appropriate.

And then he saw her -- Nodoka stood at the far side of the empty lot, arms
reaching toward Ranma, her eyes pleading him to come to her. She spoke
but there were no words to be heard. Ranma extended his own arms, hands
grasping desperately, reaching for a mother he had never known, and that
was when he saw the rose.


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


"I said GET OFF!!"

The memory dissolved and Ranma knew that he had better put some
stupid daydream far from his mind. There were more important things to
worry about, or more specifically, 'two' more important things to worry
about.

For reasons Ranma did not understand, Akane was standing in front of his
desk. For reasons he did understand, she looked as though she wanted to
pinch his head off his neck like a fresh grape, squeezing and grinding it
between her thumb and forefinger until the contents exploded from within.

Ranma realized that he was reaching desperately for something that only
existed in his own head. He wasn't sure how often he actually acted out
his dreams, but it was unimportant information, and it was unfortunate that
while reaching for an ethereal rendition of his mother, he had managed to
instead grasp both of Akane's breasts.

"Nice trick, Saotome," said Hiroshi, holding up a thumb in approval.

"The nightmare-into-a-grope-technique," said Daisuke, in awe of Ranma's
perverted prowess. "How come I never thought of that?"

"Ranma is a true master of his art," Hiroshi said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Daisuke nodded in agreement.

Ranma's head darted desperately from side to side, a nervous laugh
escaping him. "This isn't what it looks like! Really, it isn't! I would 
never-
-"

"Then why are you still holding on!?" screamed Akane, her arm pulled
back, tense, like a wound snake ready to strike. And strike she did,
knocking Ranma out of his chair, into the air, through the ceiling and then
beyond... far beyond.

"I can explain!" Ranma cried, his voice fading as he spiraled into the
distance.

"How can you put up with it?" asked Yuka, arms crossed over her narrow
chest. She gazed up at the hole in the ceiling, watching Ranma spiral out
of sight.

"She has to," Sayuri said, lazily twirling a finger in her dark brown
ponytail. "He is her fianc�e, after all."

Akane let out a long sigh, her cheeks burning from the deep blush that
tinted her face a fiery red. What was Ranma thinking, grabbing her like
that, and in front of all of their classmates, yet!?

'He can be absolutely infuriating,' Akane thought, 'but...' She let the
thought trail off, completely unwilling to even consider traveling that
particular avenue. Ranma had gone to far and she was determined to be
upset with him.

So how come it was taking so much effort to stay angry at him? She had
every right to be embarrassed, and if she asked Sayuri or Yuka, they would
say she had the right to be angry, too. When Ranma grabbed her, it was
definitely embarrassing and it did make her mad, too, but already the anger
was beginning to fade and she found herself regretting knocking him
through the ceiling.

What if he was halfway across the city, lying somewhere in the roadway, in
front of oncoming traffic? Or what if he fell into the spillway and was
knocked unconscious? Would he wake up in time to get out?

Akane stood from her seat and ran for the door.

"Akane," cried Yuka, "where are you going?"

"To find Ranma," Akane said, and she was gone.


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


"Hand it over, lady! I'm not going to tell you again, so you better just do
what I say, dig?"

Aiko Ohishi flattened herself against the wall, trapped in a dead end alley
with no way of escape. She was beginning to realize just how horrible her
day could actually get. She understood that being late for work during the
first week of her internship was bad form, but she never expected karma to
be so cruel, to allow her to be accosted on the way. It was a bit of an
extreme reprimand, she thought.

The mugger came a step closer to Aiko, the breathing hole in his black ski
mask exposing a nasty grin. He held one hand open, waiting for Aiko to
hand over the faux suede purse that she wore over her left shoulder, while
his other hand waved a knife so large it looked like a small sword wildly
in front of her. It wobbled a little in his grasp and Aiko thought he might
drop it.

But he didn't, and the distance between her finely pampered skin and the
serrated sliver of steel was narrowing, coming much to close for comfort.
Aiko had never considered herself the type of person to succumb to
bullying, but she really thought that this self-conscious little man might 
do
something foolish, and it wasn't the idea of his wasted chance to continue
to mingle with free-roaming society that scared her, but the idea of finding
herself freshly planted with the violets and the bluebells, unable to
continue a mostly mingle-free, yet wholly satisfying lifestyle.

"Okay, you can have it," Aiko said, her voice trembling. "Just don't hurt
me." She held the purse out slowly. If he tried to attack her, at least she
could use it to defend herself.

The mugger was reaching out to take the purse when suddenly he froze,
head tilted ever so slightly to one side, listening.

Aiko wondered what in the world he was doing, but then she could hear it,
too. Someone was screaming. It wasn't a sound of terror or pain, but of
utter shock.

She looked up, realizing that the scream was coming closer and that it was
coming from above them. Something was falling out of the sky, picking
up speed as it closed in on their location. Aiko pushed herself against the
wall again, cradling the purse to her chest, bracing herself for impact.

The mugger never saw it coming. The object from the sky landed on top
of him, driving him down into the asphalt. There was a tremendous crack,
and Aiko was sure that the mugger's skull had imploded with the impact.
In reality, however, the concrete around him had welled up, ballooning out
like an upside down mushroom, leaving a rather large crater.

"Which way did he go?" mumbled the falling object, which Aiko realized
with some surprise was a man in Chinese clothing and a pigtail.

"Oh my goodness!" she cried, rushing forward without hesitation. She
knelt beside the unconscious mugger and the pigtailed boy and dropped a
hand onto the latter's arm. "Are you okay?"


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


Akane ran down a very familiar back alley, one that she and Ranma
traveled every morning on the way to school.  Her head was tilted to the
sky, searching. She couldn't see him. 'He must have fallen already,' she
thought, mentally kicking herself in the butt for losing her temper with
him.

When she came around the corner into another similar alley, she was
stunned to see a man dressed in solid black with a ski mask hanging in the
air at eye level. He was hog tied, a rather large knife driven through the
back of his shirt, pinning him to the wall. Sirens wailed in the distance,
coming quickly closer.

Akane turned to exit the alley and that's when she saw him, across the
street, sitting in Nerima's local ice cream parlor.


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


Aiko sat across from the pigtailed boy, whose name she had learned was
Ranma Saotome. A complacent smile lit up her features. She waited
politely for Ranma to finish eating the ice cream, which she had offered to
buy him no less than fifteen minutes earlier.

"Hey, this really wasn't necessary," Ranma was saying through mouthfuls
of his second scoop of ice cream, "but who am I to be rude?"

"Not at all," Aiko said. "You saved me from that... that brute!"

"Ranma!"

Aiko looked toward the entrance, but not before noticing that Ranma
nearly swallowed his spoon. A girl with short, raven hair stood in the
doorway, hands on her hips, anger fuming from every fiber of her being.

Ranma dropped the spoon into the ice cream dish and stood quickly,
nervously reaching a hand to cup the back of his head. He grinned and
said, "Akane! Look, I can explain, I didn't mean to--"

"I come all this way," Akane said, "because I'm worried about you, and
what do I find? You eating ice cream with a total stranger!"

"Pardon me," Aiko said, standing from her chair. She bowed to Akane.
"I'm sorry, but Ranma helped me earlier and I was simply trying to repay
his kindness."

Akane faltered. "He did what?"

"A mugger attacked me," Aiko said. "Ranma saved me."

Akane seemed to defuse. All the anger that had been building slowly sapped
out of her. Her chocolate brown eyes shifted between Aiko and Ranma
quickly, then dropped to the floor.

"You heard her," Ranma said, a slightly smug edge to his voice. "I saved
her from a mugger. Kinda makes me a hero, doesn't it?"

"I..." Akane trailed off. Her entire posture changed and she bowed toward
Aiko. "I'm sorry for being so rude." She turned and without another world
she left.

"Hey, Akane!" Ranma called, reaching out toward her as if to stop her
leaving. He looked at Aiko and gave a small, apologetic smile. "Sorry, I
gotta go. Thanks for the ice cream!"

Aiko watched Ranma exit the shop. She sat back down and
was silent for a long moment. 'He fell from the sky,' she thought, 'like
some kind of guardian angel.' Then she remembered that she was still late
for work, exponentially so, and she jumped out of her seat, running in a
fevered scramble for the door.


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

"Ranma," Kasumi called from downstairs, "you have a visitor!"

It always struck Ranma as funny how well Kasumi's voice carried from
one end of the house to the other. It didn't occurred to him as he got to 
his
feet that rice paper doors probably didn't subdue sound very well. He
walked out of the bedroom, down the hall, down the stairs and finally to
the front door. He was surprised to see Aiko smiling in at him.

"Hey, you're that girl from the other day," he said, clicking his fingers as
though to punctuate the sentence. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," Aiko said, pointing out toward the main wall's entrance, "I was
wondering if you could spare a minute or two to talk about how you
heroically rescued me."

Ranma thought back. He could hardly remember what had happened, it
had been two or three weeks back. It was while pondering this that he
realized exactly what it was Aiko had been pointing at.

"Is that what I think it is?" Ranma asked nervously.

"That's right," Aiko said, turning to wave at the news van. Three men
crawled out of it, one carrying a microphone setup, the other carrying what
looked like a massive lamp, and the third holding a video camera. A girl
with a clipboard followed. "I'm an intern at G.R.Z.F. When I told my boss
about what happened, he offered me the chance to run my first field
report."

"Well, I--" Ranma began, but hardly made it two syllables before Soun
and Genma were on him, each with an arm wrapped around either of his
shoulders.

"He'd love to!" Genma cried, patting Ranma feverishly on the shoulder.

"And remember," Soun added, looking excessively proud, "that Ranma
here is next in line to carry on this very training hall!"

"How pathetic," Akane said, arms crossed over her chest. She watched
quietly from the living room doorway, her expression growing ever sourer.

Nabiki sat at the table, watching the very station on which Ranma would
soon make his television debut. "Leave it to daddy to pimp out the dojo on
public television."

"Oh my," said Kasumi, the back of her hand pressed at the corner of her
mouth. "Language, Nabiki!"

Akane huffed and walked back into the living room. She sat next to Nabiki
and continued flipping through an old teen magazine, disinterested with
the contents, but not as disinterested as she was with the mockery that was
Ranma's heroic rescue.

If it hadn't been for her, the little reporter girl would have been taken 
for
every cent she had. Of course Akane couldn't just go and tell Aiko that,
could she? How would she look on public television explaining that her
fianc�e had only fallen into that alley by chance, that if it hadn't been 
for
her knocking Ranma into next November, Aiko Ohishi very well might
have been robbed, or even worse.

Ranma had followed Akane on that day, prying into her business, as usual.
He was curious why she had slunk off after finding out he'd saved Aiko
from that mugger.

The fact was, there was a serious conflict going on within her, a kind of
emotional tug of war that she was having problems dealing with. She felt
guilty for launching Ranma into low earth orbit, but if she hadn't,
someone might have been hurt.

She couldn't bring herself to tell Ranma, of course, nor had she been able
to talk to Kasumi or Dr. Tofu. She had tried many times over the past
three weeks, but Ranma always somehow found a way to aggravate her
and she would just forget it.

And now Ranma was going to be on G.R. TV, labeled a hero for
something he could no more take credit for than Akane could.

Akane sighed, flipping the pages of the magazine in reverse until it lay
face-up on the table, an attractive supermodel smiling beatifically up at
her. She slapped her hand down on the magazine and she was sure that she
heard the table's fine polished surface splinter.


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


Ranma walked through the door of Ucchan's; head hung low, shoulders
hunched in what looked like a fairly hardcore display of what Ukyo
secretly called the 'Pity Me Syndrome.'

During her stay in Nerima, and over the course of their blossoming
friendship -- she felt a slight ping with that thought -- Ukyo had become
very aware of Ranma's various moods and frequently shifting states of
mind. She sometimes thought that perhaps his female side had taken some
dominance over his personality, but she would never dare utter such a
thing aloud. Never mind the humiliating nature of such a conversation.
That was hardly even a deterrent.

Mrs. Saotome, on the other hand, was reason enough to keep such
conversations buried deep, in a place where Ukyo stored all her most
precious -- and painful -- thoughts and feelings. Just the idea of Mrs.
Saotome standing over Ranma, sword poised, ready to strike the blow that
would sever his head from his body... it was too much to even
contemplate.

Ranma trudged over to the grill, plopping down in a chair, a heavy sigh
escaping him. It sounded like a marathon runner's final declaration of
defeat, exhaustion and dehydration winning out.

'Boy,' Ukyo thought, 'he's really phoning it in this time.'

Ranma, whose head had yet to actually lift so as to meet Ukyo's gaze,
looked up at her with an expression that pleaded for a moment of
constitutional escape. Dark circles lay heavy under his eyes, tiny red lines
feathering out from his crystal pupils.

"You look like hell, Ranma-honey," Ukyo said, and she was genuine.
When Ranma first walked in, she was certain that he was batting for the
bleachers, but now... she could see it for sure. He really was haggard.

"Nice to see you to," Ranma mumbled, a small smile curling the corner of
his mouth. "I guess it'd be okay to hide in here for a while?"

"Depends," Ukyo said, busying herself with cleaning the grill top. "Who
you hiding from?"

"Aiko."

"Ah."

Of course Ukyo knew about Aiko, as did the rest of Ranma's alleged
fianc�es. Shampoo and Kodachi wasted very little time 'getting to the
bottom' of Aiko's motivations for tailing Ranma around Tokyo. Even
Hinako Ninomiya had gotten herself involved, mostly for reasons that
none of them understood. Ukyo thought that Hinako just liked prying into
Ranma's personal affairs. She wouldn't be the first.

The fact that Ranma was hiding out in her joint was no real surprise,
either. Ukyo had grown accustom to him running away from certain
nameless amazons and psycho gymnasts; busting through the doors,
plowing over Konatsu and power-diving over the grill, but to see him
sauntering in to avoid some little reporter girl... well, actually, it was
amusing. Sad, but oh-so-amusing.

"She's got you on the run, huh?" Ukyo turned an eye to Ranma, scarcely
able to maintain her stoic tone. What she had really wanted to say seemed
somehow cruel and lewd, not very appropriate at a time like this. Still, it
did seem to her that Aiko had Ranma firmly by the balls, dragging him all
over Tokyo on her personal pilgrimage to make the city a better place.

"I just can't believe it!" Ranma blurted, as though he had somehow picked
up on Ukyo's train of thought. His exhaustion fizzled in the adrenaline
rush that burned from helpless frustration.

"Believe what?" Ukyo asked, remaining calm and collected. The laughter
brimmed close to the surface and she forced it back. If she let it burst out
now, she would never be able to contain it.

"That I let her drag me into all this!" Ranma continued, gripping the wooden
serving bar so tight that it splintered. "I agree to one stinking interview, 
and
suddenly she's dragging me all over Tokyo, getting cats out of trees or
helping old ladies cross the street!"

"Don't forget Big-Brother day at the Nerima Grade School."

Ranma glared at Ukyo, and she thought perhaps it was a subject best left
buried, right along with that ugly yellow top Ranma often wore. She never
realized how fashion sensible a bunch of kids could be, nor did she ever
think she would see the day when Ranma Saotome was accosted and
stripped by Grade School children just because his shirt was unpleasing to
their eyes.

"It's been nearly a month, and I can't seem to get away from her! It's like
she's got me lojacked or something!" Ranma stood from his chair, still
gripping the bar, splintering it's top even further.

"Easy, Ranma-honey!" Ukyo reached out with both hands, gripping
Ranma's. She pulled with all her might, and surprisingly Ranma relaxed
his grip on the counter and closed his hands around hers. Ukyo's breath
caught in her throat, and the look in Ranma's eyes held her enthrall.

"Thank you, Ukyo." Ranma's demeanor changed once again, and if Ukyo
hadn't been too absorbed in those baby blue eyes, it would have furthered
her belief that his female persona was far more prevalent than he would
have liked to believe.

"Thank you? For what?" Ukyo found it hard to speak. It was very rare that
she found herself hand-in-hand with Ranma Saotome, the man who started
all those years ago as a childhood friend, but now meant so much more to
her... more than he would ever know.

"You've always been here for me," Ranma said, his voice silky and
smooth. No longer was he angry, nor did he care about Aiko or her endless
knight-errands. "I've always been able to count on you. You have no idea
how much you mean to me."

"Really?" Ukyo asked, sparsely able to contain her excitement. Could it
be, after all this time, after all her patient waiting, allowing him to make
his own decisions when it came to his endless tide of fianc�es, having
finally given up trying to force him into loving her... could it be?

"Really," Ranma said, the most award-winning smile Ukyo had ever seen
lighting up his brilliant features. "You're my best friend, Ukyo. Thanks."


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

The rose.

He could see it and he didn't want to. It burned his eyes, causing the soft
white tissue to bubble and blister. Pain. So excruciating and complete. He
never thought he could experience such an feeling. His teeth shattered in
his skull and he swallowed his tongue. It was like a soggy sponge, pulsing
inside his esophagus, asphyxiating him.

"That looks a mite painful."

The words were English, but that didn't matter. Ranma could understand
Him and he thought for a moment that it would drive him completely
insane. He thanked his lucky stars that his eyes were burning in his skull,
it spared him having to see the face of the Man in Black.

"There's not much I can do about it. This isn't my story." This brought a
fit of giggles to the Man in Black's lips, and it caused Ranma to cry in
anguish. "Things are only going to get a whole heap worse, lil' partner.
You'd best just settle in for the long haul."

There was a pause, and in that silence Ranma could hear the sound of his
brain squeezing in on itself, imploding, trying to escape the influence of
the Dark Man.

"And never mind the rose," continued the Dark Man, "you'll never see it
in person. You're sensitive to the beam, but that's not going to help you.
Now wake up, slanty-eyes, you're about to have a heap of trouble on your
hands!"

The Man With No Face laughed.

Ranma screamed.


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


It was a long time before Ranma woke up. The dream was a distant
memory when he finally did rouse, and it would have shocked him to
realize that he had been lying facedown in a rather fragrant pile of disused
restaurant scraps for the better half of three hours. The dumpster itself 
was
fairly empty, but Ukyo's aim had been true.

"What did I do to deserve that one?" Ranma mumbled, climbing out of the
dumpster. He vaguely remembered the industrial strength spatula -- all
five feet of it -- coming around on him with frightening speed and ungodly
precision. Even when he was being sincere, he somehow managed to
royally irritate the people he cared about.

He sighed, brushing himself down from head to toe. The damage wasn't
too severe, beyond an overt need to shower and a mighty bruise on his
right cheek that was already beginning to ebb off. He reached up and
rubbed it gingery, only wincing slightly.

"Ranma!"

Ranma turned toward the voice. He was unsure how she found him, but
Aiko was running down the alley, waving her arms wildly over her head.
He sighed, prepared to tell her to buzz off. Going out of his way to be
polite had been difficult, but both his dad and Mr. Tendo had made it
extremely clear that any publicity was good publicity, and if it made the
Tendo and Saotome Schools more recognizable, then by-god he would
humor Aiko Ohishi until further notice.

"Ranma," Aiko called again, still waving her arms. She looked like
someone who had caught on fire, moving wildly from one side to the other
like a raving lunatic. "You have to get out here! We need your help!"

"Look," Ranma said, dropping his hands on Aiko's shoulders as she
reached him, "it can't be that important. Calm down, okay?"

"Not that important?" Aiko demanded, the shock in her voice not going
unnoticed to Ranma. "Where have you been? This is serious!"

"What are you--" Ranma began, but he scarcely had time to finish before a
blood-curdling scream pierced his ears. He was suddenly aware of the
chaos coming from beyond the entrance to the alleyway. The fact that it
had gone unnoticed before disturbed him, but not near as badly as what he
saw at the mouth of the path.

The young clipboard girl that Ranma recognized from Aiko's news crew
was running toward them, screaming madly. Ranma wasted no time in
rushing to her aid, Aiko calling after him to wait, telling him that it was
too late.

He didn't want to hear her, didn't understand what was going on. He did,
however, watch in a sort of dreamlike haze as the G.R. TV soundman
grabbed the clipboard girl by the shoulders, pulling her against him. For a
moment Ranma thought he was trying to protect her, to use himself to
shield her from an oncoming attack. Then he sank his teeth into her neck.

Seeing this halted Ranma entirely. He could only stare in amazement as
the soundman gnawed on the clipboard girl's flesh, sending a geyser of
crimson into the air. It rained down on the alleyway wall, adding a
disturbingly vibrant third dimension to a faded old graffiti tag.

Ranma turned his head away, unable to watch as the soundman proceeded
to devour the clipboard girl's jugular. He felt a hand on his shoulder and
came milliseconds from decapitating Aiko with his bare hands.

He was jumpy, that was for sure, and who wouldn't be? 'You just saw that
girl murdered!' Ranma thought. 'Of course you're jumpy!'

"Come on," Aiko said, tugging at Ranma's arm. "We have to get out of
here... while it's distracted."

"What in the hell is going on!?" Ranma demanded, turning his fierce gaze
on Aiko. She took a step back, as though she expected Ranma to strike
her.

"I don't know," Aiko said, clasping her hands in front of her face as
though to pray. "People are just... going crazy."

Ranma considered this. Based on the attack he had just witnessed, he
thought Aiko probably wasn't far from right. He looked out into the street
and, in the distance, he could see people scrambling, completely without
direction, terror dictating action. There was an explosion somewhere
deeper in the business districts of Tokyo and on the breeze he could hear
the screaming of terrified pedestrians.

"Aiko, get off the street," Ranma said, his tone somehow completely
different from before. It shocked him a little.

"What about you--" Aiko began, but Ranma looked at her, his eyes
pleading with her not to argue.

"Please," he said, "go to Ucchan's and stay there. Tell her to lock the
place up and take anyone who is there up to the apartment. Barricade it.
You should be safe there."

"What are you going to do?" Aiko asked, her voice terrified.

"I've got to get to the Tendo Dojo and you'd only slow me down," Ranma
said, turning to face the street. "I've got to see if my family is okay. I
don't know what's going on, but if anything happens to them... to
Akane..."

Ranma crashed that line of thinking and turned his eyes to Aiko one final
time. "Get to Ucchan's," he said, and then he was gone, vanishing into the
chaos filled night.

It occurred to him as he darted past wrecked cars and mutilated bodies that
his world was forever changed. It was with that thought that an unfamiliar
voice filled his head. It was rugged and stoic, the voice of a man with
many long years behind him and plenty more ahead.

The voice said, 'The world has moved on, and nothing will ever be the
same. All you can do is survive, continue to exist, and maybe fight against
the darkness that has engulfed your realm.'

Ranma ignored the voice, but deep down he knew that it was right, that he
would fight to protect the ones he loved, no matter the consequences.

===========================
END CHAPTER I
NEXT CHAPTER � MEMORIES I
===========================

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