[FFML] [Ranma] Life is Complicated, Part III

[Ambulatory Kettle]

After an absence, back by no popular demand whatsoever... ;)

A few folks expressed concern about the new characters in this story.  Since my prereaders really like the new characters (as do I), I can only assume that this is a matter of personal taste.  Suffice to say that no more new characters are likely to appear, but existing ones will likely persist in various antagonistic and supporting roles to the main Ranma caste.  So, you can either give me the benefit of the doubt and trust I know how to implement these original characters, or you can write me off as a unrepentant reprobate and refuse to read my story. ;)
______________________________

Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 is the property of Takahashi-san and various other 
copyright holders who are not me.  All obnoxious original characters in 
this story are actually my own property, dubious honor though it may be.

"Life is Complicated"
A Ranma 1/2 comedy fanfic of dramatic proportions
written by Ambulatory Kettle

Part III: Houseguests

	"So, Sasuke, please explain to me again why you had to construct  
this other building here as well as the kendo hall I requested?"
	"Building codes, master," Sasuke replied.  "This is a residential 
block, and the Neriman government wouldn't allow us to build anything on 
this land without a house to go with it."
	"I see," Kunou said, placing a hand on his chin pensively.  "Well, 
no matter.  As long as all else is as it should be."
	"Would YOU please explain to ME, Kunou-chan," Nabiki broke in, 
"how in the world you got a dojo AND a brand new house built here OVER 
NIGHT?  I mean, nobody even heard a thing!  Not to mention, what 
happened to the people who lived here before?"
	"Negotiations took several days, but 'tis no complex matter, 
Tendou Nabiki.  Sasuke simply used his union connections to contract a 
particular shinobi group that specializes in building demolition and 
construction.  As for the former residents, I assure you that they are 
thoroughly enjoying their early retirement in Okinawa."
	Feeling nearly overawed for one of the few times in her life, 
Nabiki gazed at the new buildings from where she, Kunou, and Sasuke all 
stood at the edge of the property.  The kendo hall was almost as large 
as the Tendou training hall, and the two dojos made a very aesthetic 
pair, standing not fifteen meters apart.  Towards the front of the lot 
sat a two-story house, complete in every way, as though it had always 
been there.  It looked quite comfortable and homey.  The builders had 
knocked out one side of the wall that encircled the Tendou residence and 
dojo and extended it to surround the adjoining new structures -- they 
had even used the same kind of stone so that the additions matched up 
quite well and looked only slightly newer than the rest of the old wall.
	"So you're saying NINJAS built this?  All of it?  In one night?"
	"Not quite, Nabiki-dono," Sasuke corrected.  "They subcontracted 
the plumbing.  As a result, there's no running water yet."
	If Nabiki were the sort of person who would have ever allowed 
herself to faint, she would have, right then and there.  "Kunou-chan, 
you have REALLY outdone yourself this time.  I mean, I've seen you spend 
money before, and lots of it, but this... this takes the cake -- and 
eats it too."
	"I do not wish to disillusion you to my boundless generosity," 
Kunou returned, "but I was not the sole patron of this endeavor."
	"Oh?" Nabiki prompted, her curiosity piqued.  
	"Monies for the building of the illustrious Kunou Tatewaki Kendo 
Hall of course came from the assets of the Kunou estate.  However, the 
cost of this lot, as well as fees for the demolition of all previous 
structures, were shared between myself and another interested party.  
Also, the house you see here, while necessary for the sake of legal 
niceties, is none of my doing."
	"What other interested party?" she asked, somewhat baffled.  Who, 
besides Kunou, would want to build a kendo hall at the Tendou dojo?
	"Oh, it's done already?  Awesome!  That was fast."
	Nabiki felt her spine go rigid at the sound of that voice.
	"NO."  She shook her head.  "No.  No way.  Absolutely not."
	"Ahem," Preston cleared his throat, pointing at her feet.  "I 
believe you are on my property."

	The school bell chimed, signaling the start of morning classes.  
Gazing out the window at the burgeoning fall colors, Ranma realized how 
rare it was for him to hear that noise while sitting at his desk instead 
of racing along the street outside.  He'd awakened earlier than usual 
that morning, his mind filled with visions of the afternoon's upcoming 
martial arts class.  Today was Thursday; it would be his fifth day 
teaching, and he found he was looking forward to it more each time.
	Pop had kept snoring, so Ranma had sparred with Kouryuu instead.  
It went by faster but felt more productive, since Kouryuu didn't spend 
the whole morning just trying to one-up him like Pop always did.  With 
the expanded space of the adjoining lot that had suddenly been available 
as of that morning, Ranma managed to avoid the koi pond and the time-
consuming task of explaining his curse yet again.
	It had been strangely quite pleasant, to have a leisurely walk to 
school with Akane, free of any complaint or concern about being late.  
It had felt as good, if not better, than the morning's workout, like 
something he would want to do everyday.
	Not because of AKANE, of course.  No way.  He tried to push his 
mind to other things.  Not that he was SCARED of thinking about Akane, 
about her contented smile in the morning light, about why walking with 
her had made him feel--  <No, not with HER!  Just WALKING, the WALKING 
was good.  Stupid brain, think about something else, something that 
makes sense, like martial arts.>  Akane decidedly did not make sense.  
Clearly the morning's workout had just left him a little tense and the 
walk had done him some good, allowing him a bit of an after-stretch, and 
that was why it had felt good.  Yeah, that was it.
	The soft, crisp swish of the classroom door opening heralded the 
likely arrival of Hinako-sensei, but failed to interrupt Ranma's 
thoughts, which he was steering towards plans for that afternoon.  
Around him, his classmates started to stand up.  That caught Ranma's 
attention -- no one ever bothered to stand for Hinako-sensei.
	Rather than their homeroom teacher's childlike form, the more 
middle-aged (and, in Ranma's mind at least, somehow pelican-like) figure 
of Omura-sensei stood framed in the doorway.  Grudgingly, Ranma got to 
his feet.
	"Due to an unfortunate bubblegum-accident," he was saying soberly, 
"Hinako-sensei will be in the hospital for the next month or so, and 
will be unable to attend classes."
	"All right!"  Ranma's joyful cry was nearly lost in the excited 
hubbub that threatened to grow into a happy ruckus.
	Omura-sensei frowned disapprovingly.  "Quiet please."  When the 
commotion had died down into elated silence, he continued, and an 
uncharacteristic smile broke through his lugubrious-sea-bird expression.  
"It's my pleasure to introduce my niece-- er, I mean, Hinako-sensei's 
substitute."
	He stepped aside to allow someone else to enter.  An intrigued 
murmur spread through the classroom.
	At first, Ranma couldn't place where he'd seen those finely arched 
eyebrows and high cheekbones before.  Then it hit him like a block of 
concrete between the eyes.  Pull the hair back into a pony-tail, trade 
the practical business attire for a karate uniform -- Ranma glanced 
secretly over to where Akane sat, and took in the pleased glow in her 
eyes.  No mistaking it; for the second time that week, Ranma felt like 
his innards had been spontaneously transformed into industrial piping.
	"Hello class," the teacher greeted them.  "My name is Sakai Emi.  
I'll be your new homeroom sensei."

	Akane surreptitiously watched Ranma sweat through their morning 
lessons.  Akane felt a little sorry for him, as he sat in rigid silence, 
obviously dismayed beyond reason by the whole situation.  At the same 
time, she felt a little smug at his discomfort.  The tables of authority 
were turned: the teacher was now the student, and vice-versa.  This was 
one instance in which Ranma simply could not win, and certainly not by 
virtue of his martial arts skill.  Hopefully it would teach him a bit of 
much needed humility.
	Not surprisingly, Emi -- or, rather, Sakai-sensei -- was mostly 
ignoring Ranma, which seemed to be making him sweat even more.  For the 
fourth or fifth time (Akane had lost count), Emi's eyes paused on Ranma, 
her gaze hovering, threatening to call on him, only to move on to 
someone else.  For his own part, Ranma was sitting on his hands.
	Ranma seemed to be alone in his anxiety.  The other boys in the 
class were still gazing somewhat starry-eyed at their attractive new 
substitute teacher.  Akane hid a smile behind her hand.  She guessed 
that some of the more testosterone-addle brains at the school might 
mistake Emi's youthful appearance for a sign that she was somehow 
vulnerable, or wasn't completely off-limits.  Anyone who did was likely 
in for their own harsh lesson in humility.
	A sudden, loud explosion rattled the windows, and a cloud of dust 
billowed up from the front of the school.  Before anyone could even be 
surprised, Ranma stood bolt upright.
	"That'll be for me!" he blurted, and made a break for the door.
	"Where do you think you're going?" Emi demanded.
	The windows rattled again as a loud voice boomed, "SAOTOME RANMA!  
COME OUT AND FACE ME!"
	"Told ya, gotta go," Ranma shot back over his shoulder as he 
pulled the door aside and swung out into the corridor at full tilt.
	"Hey!  You get back here!" Emi shouted after him as she gave 
chase.  Akane followed hot on her heels; she could hear the pounding 
footsteps of the rest of the class behind her.
	Rushing down the stairs and out into the front courtyard, Akane 
could see that one of the large stone gateposts had been completely 
demolished.  Beside the remains of the gatepost, dust settled around the 
lone form of Ryouga, a dark glower etched across his features.  Under 
other circumstances, Akane would have been glad to see her erstwhile 
friend, but it seemed his inexplicable rivalry with Ranma had once again 
rekindled to the point of vendetta.
	"Ryouga, buddy, PERFECT timing!  Man, am I ever glad to see you!" 
Ranma was saying as he rushed out to greet the clearly enraged Ryouga.  
	Akane sighed.  Here, at least, was a challenge Ranma knew how to 
deal with.
	"Shut up and prepare for defeat, Ranma!" Ryouga cried, whipping 
out his umbrella and making several jack-hammer jabs that Ranma easily 
avoided.
	From there, things just spiraled further out of control -- or into 
control, Akane realized.  Ranma's control.  <Poor Ryouga,> Akane 
thought.  <Even after all this time, he still can't see when Ranma is 
leading him straight into a trap.>
	Emi stepped forward, her determined features making it clear she 
was prepared to intervene.
	Akane grabbed her arm, bringing her up short.  "Wait!"
	Emi looked at her, puzzled.  "Akane, what--?"
	"You'll get caught in it," Akane said.
	"Caught in what?  The fight?"
	"No, in the--"
	"HIRYUU SHOUTEN HA!"
	A blast of wind rushed past them, fueling the sudden rising surge 
of air that flung the hapless Ryouga high into sky.  Akane squeezed her 
eyes shut until the tearing wind died away into a zephyr.
	When she opened her eyes again, she was greeted by Emi's stunned 
expression, gazing uncomprehendingly at where, an instant earlier, 
Ryouga had been closing on a now solitary Ranma.  "What did he... where 
did...?" Emi stammered as she brushed her windblown hair out of her 
face.  Ranma just smiled smugly across the courtyard at her.
	"I told you," Akane said.  "Ranma's REALLY good."
	"What's that?"  Ukyou was standing on Akane's right, looking up at 
the sky.  "Is that Ryouga up there?"
	Akane followed her gaze up.  A red spot was descending towards 
them.  It looked like Ryouga's umbrella, but it was floating down upside 
down, and-- suddenly, it snapped shut, revealing Ryouga behind it, 
falling to earth with the umbrella before him like the nose-cone of a 
missile.
	<He used the umbrella to shield himself from the blast!> Akane 
realized.  He'd ridden the updraft on his inverted umbrella -- and now 
he was coming straight back down.
	"Get outta the way!  Hurry!" Ranma was shouting as he dashed 
towards them, waving his arms and trying to herd gawking students out of 
harm's way.  Akane grabbed Yuka and Sayuri standing nearby and leapt 
away just as Ryouga came crashing to earth.
	The sound nearly deafened her as a huge crater opened up where 
they had been standing an instant earlier, swallowing up the school's 
courtyard.  Landing beyond the lip of the gaping hole, Akane and her 
friends went sprawling as a shockwave rippled across the ground, 
uprooting grass and trees and splintering concrete.
	"Cover your heads!" Akane cried as small bits of debris rained 
down on them.
	A moment later, all commotion had subsided, and things were 
deceptively quite.  A pair of worn sneakers landed nimbly in Akane's 
field of vision.  She looked up to see the weird foreigner, Preston, 
with a female underclassman tucked under each arm.
	"What are you doing here?" Akane asked.
	"I came down to watch the fight, what else?" he said, as if it 
should be obvious.  He set the two surprised girls gently on their feet, 
but casually kept an arm around each of their waists.  One frowned 
through her startlement and the other blushed.
	"Playboy," Ukyou muttered quite audibly as she stalked up with 
Hiroshi and Daisuke slung backwards over each of her shoulders by the 
collars of their shirts.
	"All I did was save them," Preston stated evenly, disengaging from 
his rescuees.  "Where I come from it's called chivalry, Ukyou-san."
	Akane did a double-take.  Ukyou-SAN?
	"Oh, yeah?" Ukyou bit back, apparently oblivious to the 
uncharacteristic honorific Preston had added to her name.  She dropped 
the two boys unceremoniously in the dirt and gripped the haft of the 
battle-spatula strapped to her back.  "Well where I come from, it's 
called being a PLAYBOY!"
	"Suit yourself," Preston replied calmly, clearly refusing to be 
baited into a fight.  Akane couldn't blame him; she couldn't see any 
reason why Ukyou was being so antagonistic.
	Ukyou ground her teeth, but said nothing.
	"Did you have to drop us?" Hiroshi complained, rubbing his head as 
he climbed to his feet.
	Ukyou was about to snap at him, but Daisuke broke in, "Looks like 
we fared better'n most."  He removed his hand from his offended rear to 
point to where Gosenkugi and the rest of the boys in the class lay in 
the rubble at the edge of the crater, stunned but, by some miracle of 
dumb luck, otherwise mostly uninjured.  Apparently no one else besides 
Ukyou had bothered to save any boys.
	Akane got to her feet and scanned the destruction.  She spotted 
Emi standing near a half-bent tree with a female student she had 
apparently helped escape the worst of the impact.  Akane waved.
	"Emi--er, sensei, are you all right?"
	Emi, still looking a bit stunned herself, waved back.  "We're 
fine!  Where... where's Sao-- Ranma-kun?"
	"I'm right here," Ranma's voice called.  Akane turned to see him 
emerge from behind the foliage of a toppled tree -- carrying a human 
pyramid of girls across his arms and shoulders.
	Anger boiled up inside Akane.  "RANMA!"
	He gave her a dumbfounded look.  "What?  What'd I do?"
	Most of the girls he was carrying were beginning to blush -- 
especially those seated neatly on his palms, and certainly the one 
situated directly above his head.
	"If I were you, Ranma," Preston was saying with a grin, "I 
wouldn't look up right now."
	"Huh?  Why?"  He looked up -- WHAM!  "OW!" -- and received a heel 
to the eye.  The girl-pyramid collapsed on top of him as the others all 
started hitting him.
	"Ow, ow!  Hey, is this the thanks I get!" he yelped from where he 
lay huddled in the center of the enraged crowd of girls.  Akane was just 
rolling up her sleeves, ready to wade into the fray and deal out some 
justice of her own, when someone came tearing past her.
	"Stop!  Stop it!  No more fighting!" Emi shouted, pulling the 
girls off Ranma left and right.  Startled, they stopped pounding on him 
almost immediately.  Akane just blinked, bewildered.
	"Look at this mess you've caused!" Emi chastened Ranma angrily as 
she offered him a hand up.
	Ranma waved aside the offer of help with an annoyed flick of his 
arm and hopped to his feet on his own.  "I didn't make the mess, Ryouga 
did," he griped.
	Picking his way over a few dazed classmates, Ranma strode to the 
crater's edge and crouched down to peer down inside.  "Yo, Ryouga!" he 
called.  "You okay?  You don't look so hot."
	Akane could hear a distinct quaver in Ryouga's voice when it 
finally floated up out of the massive hole in the ground.  "G... give 
up, Ranma!  I've -- agh! -- I've defeated your Hiryuu Shouten Ha!"
	"Don't kid yourself.  Even YOU couldn't fall that far without 
taking serious damage.  You look about as healthy as pig-pudding right 
now, P-chan."
	<There he goes again,> Akane thought.  She swore she would never 
be able to fathom why Ranma called Ryouga "P-chan," of all things, or 
why it never failed to make Ryouga so mad.
	"Don't call me...!  Don't call me...!" Ryouga's strained voice 
came from below.
	Smirking, Ranma cocked a hand to one ear, leaning in closer to the 
pit.  "Eh?  What's that, P-chan?  Can't seem to hear you."
	Akane didn't feel like warning Ranma that, while he was busy 
taunting the helpless Ryouga and his guard was down completely, Emi was 
striding quite purposely up behind him.  In the last few steps, Emi 
tucked into a roll, flipping forward to bring the back of her foot down 
squarely on the top of Ranma's head.  He never saw it coming.  Ranma 
dropped into the crater like a sack of rocks, an incredibly stupid 
expression startled onto his face.
	Emi got up and dusted herself off, calling down after him, "You're 
BOTH staying after school to clean this all up!"
	"Um... but sensei," Daisuke piped up from the sidelines, "That 
Ryouga guy isn't actually a student here...."
	Emi glared at him.  "You want to join them, Daisuke-kun?"
	Daisuke swallowed and shrank under her gaze.  "No'm," he blurted, 
and hid behind Hiroshi -- who hid behind Preston, who just looked at 
them both bemusedly.
	Her attention drawn in his direction, Emi pointed at Preston.  
"You.  Get back to your own class.  The rest of you, follow me; class 
isn't over yet."
	Everyone who was able moved hastily to comply.  They clearly 
didn't dare disobey.
	Glancing back only once at the gaping hole in front of the school, 
Akane joined her classmates in their subdued but hurried shuffle back 
indoors.
	<Dummies,> Akane thought, trying not to feel sorry for the pair 
who were likely lying in a heap at the bottom of the crater.  She 
supposed they had only got what they both deserved.

	<This is just great,> Ukyou thought sullenly, as she crossed her 
arms and leaned against a tree, idly watching a pair of kendoists who 
had left the new kendo hall and taken to the outdoors to practice.  It 
was the first day since the open house that she had been able to get 
away from the restaurant, and Ranchan wasn't even here.  And, judging by 
the size of the crater he and Ryouga had to fill in, she would have to 
be back at work for the dinner rush long before he would be around.
	She was just mentally preparing herself for an afternoon of 
sulking, followed by a busy evening of blessedly distracting work, when 
an unfamiliar voice broke in on her thoughts.
	"Would you care to spar?"
	Ukyou looked up and around at the smiling, handsome face that 
greeted her.  Something about the dark-haired young man was strikingly 
samurai-like, and it wasn't just his kendo outfit.
	"Have... have we met?"
	The stranger bowed.  "I'm called Hasegawa.  Hasegawa Piku."
	Ukyou stifled a giggle that almost turned into a snort.
	"Kuonji Ukyou," she returned, but felt compelled to add, "'Piku?'  
Are you joking?"
	Still smiling, he leaned in conspiratorily.  "I never joke, 
Kuonji-san."
	Inadvertently, she found herself sharing in his smile.  She sized 
him up, drawing her battle-spatula.  "Alright then, Piku-kun -- 
Hasegawa-san.  Let's spar."  At the very least, maybe a bit of sparring 
could help her forget her frustraton at Ranchan's untimely absence from 
the dojo.
	Piku turned out to be a very good kendoist and an excellent 
sparring partner, offering helpful advice and encouragement, 
acknowledging her skill, but without the insolence of her last sparring 
partner, the incorrigible Preston.
	"Good, Kuonji-san!  Nice counter--oof!"
	Catching him for a moment off guard, Ukyou swept Piku's feet out 
from under him, landing him in the dirt.  He smiled appreciatively -- 
then suddenly frowned.  Ukyou frowned back, puzzled, but realized he was 
looking at something just beyond her shoulder.
	Someone grabbed Ukyou from behind, pinning her arms to her side.  
Ukyou's scream mingled with the cry of her attacker.
	"Aaaaaaaghhhh!"
	"Shampoooo--!"
	THOCK.  Piku was up on his feet in a flash, striking her assailant 
a blow to the head, causing him to let her go.
	"Mousse, you idiot!" Ukyou rounded on him.  "I am NOT Shampoo!"
	"You're not?"  Mousse, now seated on the ground, pulled his 
glasses down over his eyes.  "Oh.  Kuonji-san.  But then where's 
Shampoo?"
	"How should I know?" Ukyou snapped at him.
	"You mean she's not here?  But... she said she was coming here to 
see Saotome."
	"Well Ranchan's not here," Ukyou informed him pointedly.  She made 
a mental note to warn Ranchan that Shampoo was looking for him, and that 
Mousse was equally likely to give him trouble -- assuming Ukyou's path  
crossed Ranchan's anytime soon, which she hoped but seriously doubted 
would happen.
	Mousse looked around, seeming to take his first good look around 
the grounds.  "Hey... what's with all this new construction?  And why 
are all these people here?"
	"It's a DOJO," Ukyou said.  "People come here to train."
	"But I thought...."  Mousse shook his head as if dismissing the 
train of thought as unimportant, and got to his feet.  "If Shampoo isn't 
here, then there is no reason for me to stay."  And with that, he 
disappeared over a nearby wall.
	Ukyou discovered that Piku was gazing at her quizzically.
	She smiled, feeling a bit awkward.  "Sorry about that."
	"You certainly have an odd collection of characters around here," 
he commented.
	"You're telling me," Ukyou agreed wholeheartedly as she bent to 
retrieve her giant battle-spatula from where she had dropped it when 
Mousse had accosted her.  Straightening, she adjusted her bandoleer.  
"Makes things a bit difficult for normal people like us, don't you 
think?"
	Piku nodded.  "Oh, absolutely."

	By the time Ranma stumbled into the dojo, exhausted and covered in 
dirt, his students were already filing out and leaving for the day.  
Bewildered, he leaned heavily against the doorframe, searching the blank 
or puzzled faces of passing students for someone familiar -- Pop, 
Kouryuu, even Nabiki or that Preston kid -- to explain what was going 
on.  Had everything just gone on without him?  How could they have 
classes without HIM, Saotome Ranma, THE sensei, the senior instructor?  
	"Ah, there you are," Kouryuu's voice came from behind him.  
"Excellent timing.  Does this belong to you?"
	Ranma turned to discover his fellow instructor holding up an 
upside-down and very angry-looking Shampoo, dangling by her ankles from 
his grip.  He wisely kept her at arms length.
	"Let Shampoo go, stupid man!" she fairly shrieked at him, flailing 
wildly.  Levering herself up, Shampoo tried to pry his fingers apart, 
without success.  She flopped back down and let loose a stream of what 
Ranma could only guess was searing Mandarin invective, which managed to 
raise Kouryuu's eyebrows a millimeter or so but failed to accomplish 
anything else.  He quipped something back at her, surprising Ranma with 
his apparent fluency.  Shampoo just screamed at him incoherently.
	"She showed up a moment ago and started harassing students, 
demanding to know where you were," Kouryuu explained.  He looked unsure 
of how to set her down without risking injury to himself.  He stepped 
towards Ranma hopefully.  "Um... could you...?"
	"No, don't--!" Too late, Kouryuu unwittingly brought Shampoo 
within glomping range and she immediately latched on to Ranma.
	"Airen!" she cried, as Ranma collapsed to the dojo floor with her 
weight on top of him.  Inverted as she was, and apparently freed from 
Kouryuu's hold, Shampoo's legs wrapped themselves nimbly around Ranma's 
head.  At that moment he realized, with a sudden stab of fear and panic, 
that this was quite probably the absolute most compromising position he 
had ever found himself in, bar none.
	"RANMAAAH!"
	<Right on cue,> he thought, with growing dread.
	Ranma could glimpse, just past Shampoo's shapely thighs, Akane 
running up with her bamboo sword in hand.  She started pounding it 
against Shampoo's exposed back.
	"Get off of him, you hussy!" Akane screamed.
	<Please don't,> Ranma thought in panic.  As awkward as it was to 
have Shampoo wrapped so snugly around him, as soon as she moved he would 
be wide open.
	As Shampoo jumped to her feet, she managed to slam Ranma's head 
against the floorboards.  An errant thought floated through his offended 
skull: <This day has been fantastic.>  Ranma almost expected to die in  
the next few minutes from a lethal does of irony -- if one of his 
fiancées didn't kill him first.
	"Akane want fight?" Shampoo snarled.
	Akane looked ready to respond in kind, but Kouryuu stepped swiftly 
between the two combatants.  "I won't have you attacking students and 
residents of this dojo," he told Shampoo in no uncertain terms.  Ranma 
watched from his vantage on the floor, wondering if Kouryuu knew what he 
was getting himself into.
	Shampoo narrowed a hateful glare at him.  "Fine," she snapped 
curtly.  "Shampoo fight YOU.  Stupid man is in need of killing anyway."
	"Very well," Kouryuu sighed.  His eyes hardened.  "But I warn you, 
if you wish to fight me, I won't hold back.  I am prepared to use my 
most fearsome technique."
	Shampoo shifted uneasily but met his iron gaze and maintained a 
ready fighting posture.  "What you talking?"
	"A technique so terrible, so secret..." Kouryuu continued, "you 
will never see it coming."
	<Uh-oh,> Ranma thought.  Kouryuu's entire style was based on his 
ability to hide his attacks.  Was he about to bring out some truly 
unreadable super-move?
	Kouryuu raised a hand, palm forward -- and then spun on his heal, 
ran to the dojo wall, leapt over it in a single bound, and was gone.
	For a moment Shampoo stood, obviously as stunned as Ranma felt.  
Then rage twisted her features.  "Stupid man come back here!  You no run 
Shampoo!"  She dashed off and up over the wall in pursuit of her 
vanished opponent.
	<That looked a lot like the Saotome secret technique,> Ranma 
mused.  In light of that, he could only assume that Kouryuu knew what he 
was doing.
	"Well," he commented, getting to his feet.  "Glad that's over."
	A low growl sounded in his ear.  "Ranmaaa...!"
	Ranma yelped and jumped back.  "A-Akane!  It wasn't what... I can 
explain!"  He waved his arms frantically.  Akane just stalked towards 
him, gripping the handle of her bamboo sword as if she meant to crush 
it.  Now seemed like a really good time to follow Kouryuu's example and 
run from the enraged female.  Ranma started backing away, but realized 
that Akane was blocking the only exit.
	Akane took a swing at him that probably would have shattered stone 
-- he narrowly ducked it.
	"Akane, will you please just--!"
	One of the few lingering students chose this moment to step in the 
way.  "Please, miss, if you'll just calm down and let Sensei expla--"
	"Get out of my way!" Akane roared at him, bringing her weapon to 
bear on the hapless student.
	Silent alarms went off in Ranma's head as he watched the bamboo 
shaft arc towards the young man's unprotected flank.  Ranma's hand shot 
out and caught it just as it was about to impact on the student's ribs.  
With a twist and a yank he disarmed Akane, who stared at him astonished.
	"Don't," he said, pointing the bamboo sword at her reprovingly.  
"Don't... attack my students."
	Akane took a step back, her eyes wide.
	He held her gaze for a moment longer, then turned to the narrowly 
rescued student.  "You.  You're a beginner here, right?"
	The somewhat shaken student nodded dumbly.
	"Remind me next time that you beginners need a lesson in basic 
defense against an armed opponent."
	"Sa-Saturday, sir?" the student stammered.
	Ranma blinked.  "What?"
	"Next beginners' class is Saturday.  You... want me to remind you 
then, Sensei?"
	Ranma paused.  What was this about?  <Sounds like I need to have 
a chat with Nabiki,> he thought.
	"That'll be fine," he said in response to the student's question.  
"Thanks.  You c'n go now."
	The young man scurried out, followed by the last remaining 
students, all glancing back over their shoulders, variously confused, 
nervous, or even frightened.  Ranma hoped Akane's outburst hadn't scared 
any of them off permanently.
	Forcing his eyes to fix on the open doorway, Ranma marched past 
Akane, willfully exposing his back to her.
	"Ranma..."  His foot poised to step out of the dojo, Ranma 
suppressed a flinch, expecting a blow rather than this simple utterance.  
He stopped, cocking his head to show he was listening, but didn't turn 
around.
	"How..." Akane began, controlled anger in her voice, "how do you 
expect me to believe... that you weren't doing ANYTHING wrong?"
	Ranma thought about this for a while.  Finally, he had to answer, 
"I don't."  She'd never believed him before, he hardly expected her to 
start now.  He just wished she would.
	"Dummy," her voice came in a quiet whisper.  He realized she had 
come forward and was standing right behind him now, close enough to 
touch.
	WHAM!
	<Aw, crap,> Ranma thought as he plummeted earthward and the pond 
seemingly rose up to meet him like the bull's-eye of a target.  The 
water engulfed him with a cold splash, the change overcoming him 
swiftly, uncontrollable and involuntary like a full-body sneeze.
	<Well,> Ranma thought as she clambered dripping up onto the grass.  
<At least she waited to dunk me until all the students were gone.>

	A throat-clearing noise came from the open door to Nabiki's room.  
She looked up from the household accounts and some homework that she had
spread out before her on her bed.
	"Ah, Ranma.  You're back.  Have fun repairing the schoolyard with 
Ryouga-kun?"  She smiled sweetly, but then frowned.  "You're filthy.  
And you're dripping on the carpet -- stay in the hall."  Nabiki made 
shooing gestures with one hand.
	Ranma, her face dour, made no move to enter, much to Nabiki's 
satisfaction.
	"What's all this about having class without me?" she challenged 
Nabiki.  "And why isn't the next beginner's class meeting until 
Saturday?"
	"Funny you should ask," Nabiki replied evenly, toying with her 
pencil.  "Those are almost the same question, really -- or, at least, 
they have the same answer."
	"And?" Ranma prompted impatiently.
	"I'm getting to it."  Nabiki paused a moment for effect, turning 
her attention back to the work in front of her.  When she felt Ranma had 
stewed enough in her own impatience, Nabiki continued, but kept her eyes 
on her work, making a few marks here and there as she explained.  "I've 
divided the novice and advanced classes up into sessions that meet every 
other day -- so all of the experienced students have class Monday-
Wednesday-Friday, and all of the beginners have class Tuesday-Thursday-
Saturday."  She grinned up at Ranma.  "Sundays we're closed."
	"Yeah, so?  How the hell could you go and have class without ME?"
	"Oh, yes, that's the other part of this new arrangement," Nabiki 
replied, as if she had just remembered.  "We won't be needing you to do 
any teaching on Tuesdays, Thursdays, or Saturdays.  Kouryuu will be 
taking on the beginner classes from now on."
	"What?!" Ranma fairly exploded. "But I'M the senior instructor!"
	"In all fairness, Kouryuu IS older than you -- by almost ten 
years," Nabiki responded readily.  Ranma opened her mouth to retort, but 
Nabiki held up a hand, stalling her.  "And... to be honest, I know I can 
trust you to give the advanced students the workout they're paying for, 
but can I trust you not to be too rough on the beginners?  I think they 
could use a gentler hand to help lift them up the first few steps -- at 
least until they get closer to your level."  She raised her hand, palm 
up, to illustrate her point.
	It was at best a half-truth, Nabiki knew.  In reality, she wanted 
Kouryuu to train the less experienced students because she felt he would 
be infinitely more levelheaded and understanding with them.  Training 
students who already had a fundamental grasp of martial arts, that was 
one thing, but Nabiki seriously doubted Ranma had the patience to teach 
novices from the ground up.  So far her observations had confirmed this.
	Ranma, however, didn't seem to swallow her explanation.
	"'Gentler hand?'" she questioned contemptuously.  "'Gentler 
hand?!'  Do you think it was a 'gentle hand' that got me where I am 
today?"  By now Ranma had stalked right up to the edge of Nabiki's bed, 
dripping muddy water on the floor.  "Are you forgetting what Pop's idea 
of 'training' looks like?  Are you forgetting what it DOES to someone?"  
Ranma gestured down at her soaked, dirty clothes and female body.  "Do 
you think a 'gentle hand' did THIS?!"
	"Ranma..." Nabiki said after a moment.  "Kasumi JUST cleaned in 
here."
	Ignoring Nabiki's complaints, Ranma forged on.  "What makes you 
think YOU know even the first thing about teaching martial arts, Nabiki?  
My students don't need a 'gentle hand' -- they need a sensei!"
	Nabiki smiled inwardly.  For the first time, it became crystal 
clear that Ranma was in this thing all the way.  Ranma hadn't made any 
dramatic effort to duck out of teaching classes since the open house, 
and now had even come to challenge Nabiki about making unilateral 
decisions behind the scenes; Nabiki hadn't dared to hope for any better 
signs than that.  But the words "my students," straight from Ranma's 
mouth, immediately banished any remaining doubts: Ranma had graduated 
from unwitting pawn to willing participant.
	Nabiki slid to the edge of her bed and stood, meeting Ranma's gaze 
evenly.  "All right, Ranma.  We'll work on the teaching schedule some 
more.  But there may be days when Kouryuu will be teaching, and you'll 
have to take a backseat and follow his lead if you want to be there.  
Can you do that?"
	Fists clenched at her side, Ranma looked away, gritting her teeth.  
"Yes," she bit out reluctantly.
	Nabiki gave an approving nod.  "Good.  If you want to remain 
senior instructor, I do expect your full cooperation in this, Ranma."
	"No," Ranma shot back.
	For once, Nabiki didn't know what to say.
	"That's not how it's gonna work, Nabiki."  Ranma's eyes were 
surprisingly hard.  "I expect YOUR full cooperation.  Next time you have 
some bright idea about who should teach what, or who should train when, 
you talk to ME first.  Got it?"
	Taken aback, Nabiki recovered her poise quickly.  "You of all 
people should know," she returned with a note of warning in her voice, 
"that it's not wise to threaten me."
	Ranma shook her head.  "I'm not threatening, Nabiki.  I'm not 
askin' either.  I'm telling.  You know you can't do this thing without 
me.  You may think, hey, it's only been a few days -- but the students 
know me now.  Today, I saw that -- I realized, I'M their sensei.  They 
trust me; they respect me.  Can't say the same for you."
	Nabiki felt it would be imprudent to point out that the students 
likely respected and trusted Kouryuu more than they did Ranma.
	"Okay then," Nabiki replied, deciding to humor her new... business 
partner.  "I'll make sure to discuss these things with you in the 
future.  But don't expect too many more changes."
	"Fine with me," Ranma said.  "I've got enough things changing on 
me already."  She looked down at herself.  "I guess I'd better go and--"
	"PIG-TAILED GIRL! MY LOVE!"
	"Yaaaaaaaaah!"
	WHAM!  The floor shook as Kunou's head slammed violently into it. 
	"Will you get a clue, Kunou!" Ranma barked at him.
	"Kunou-chan, what are you even still doing here?" Nabiki asked 
wearily.  "Training has been over for nearly an hour."
	"I heard the angelic voice of my pig-tailed goddess calling to me 
in distress, but I knew not from whence or wherefore she shouted so."  
Apparently undeterred by the lump the size of a goose egg that was 
growing from the top of his head, or the fact that his kendo-gi was now 
damp all down the front from squeezing the very wet "pig-tailed girl," 
Kunou leapt to his feet.  "What beleaguers thee, my love?"
	Ranma opened her mouth, then shut it as her gaze fell on Nabiki.  
The rare glint of slyness that entered Ranma's eye made Nabiki feel 
suddenly uncomfortable.
	With a theatrical flare, Ranma put a hand to her face.  "Oh, Kunou 
my darling.  I have learned of your secret engagement -- to that woman!"
	Nabiki felt her heart skip a beat as Ranma's finger jabbed in her 
direction.
	"No!"  Kunou looked to Nabiki, then back to Ranma.  "Lies!  It 
is not true, I tell you!"
	"It is, it is!  Your fathers' agreed, and now you are engaged to 
be married!  I cannot come between you," Ranma said in feigned sadness.  
"Goodbye, my love!"
	Ranma danced from the room, a look of badly suppressed glee on her 
face.  Nabiki glared after her.
	Kunou sat heavily on the floor.  Nabiki watched him, wondering how 
he was going to react.  She had expected him to chase after Ranma, or at 
least collapse in howls of anguish, but he seemed to be taking it 
remarkably well.
	Nonetheless, his hands shook as he gazed at them in apparent 
horror, as if lamenting their powerlessness.  "Oh, that fate, like a 
storm at sea, hath torn me from the twin atolls of my love and cast the 
ship of my heart upon YOUR rocky shoals!"
	Nabiki crossed her arms and glared at him.  "For your information, 
Kunou-chan, my shoals are NOT rocky."  Not that HE would ever have the 
opportunity to find out.  "Besides, it's not like I'm any happier about 
this whole situation than you are, kiddo."
	Kunou favored her with a suffering look.  "How can you possibly 
compare my heart's woe to your own petty frustration?  You have no love 
that is taken from you by this gross shackling."  He pointed an 
accusatory finger at her.  "Your only love is the procurement of wealth!  
You have not been shorn from your intended!"
	"Oh, I don't know," Nabiki replied.  "That Piku guy was kind of 
cute."  While it was technically true, she said it mostly to annoy 
Kunou -- and succeeded, she saw, as his face reddened.
	"Hasegawa, that cur!" Kunou bellowed indignantly.  "You would do 
better to marry a pack-mule--!  Ha!"  Kunou seemed to catch himself, 
sobering.  "I see you speak his name only to bait me.  Well I shall not 
be thus abused, Tendou Nabiki.  I well know you have no use for men 
beyond the means they might provide thee.  And moreover, that Hasegawa, 
why he is no man at all."
	Nabiki smirked, hiding her surprise at Kunou's show of level-
headedness.  "No, that would be Ranma."
	"Indeed," Kunou agreed readily.  "Saotome is no man, but a foul 
demon who makes but ill use of those around him without regard for 
sentiment."  Kunou's eyes flicked in her direction.  "Somewhat like a 
certain Tendou daughter whom we both know."
	Nabiki snorted.  As if KUNOU had any right to admonish HER.  
"Kunou-chan, you really need to get more in touch with reality."
	"And you, Tendou Nabiki, need to get more in touch with humanity."
And with that he rose and strode from the room, leaving Nabiki to puzzle 
over his final, cryptic utterance.

	Ranma didn't dare hope for an instant that she was truly free of 
Kunou's harassment for good.  All the same, she laughed to herself as 
she began rinsing the day's excessive dirt away.  She was still 
chuckling when, quite unexpectedly, the door to the bath opened, and 
Preston stepped in wearing a towel around his waist.
	For a moment, he just stared at Ranma, and she stared dumbly back 
at him.  Then he backed out, and closed the door behind him.  Ranma 
exhaled, relieved.
	"So, are there four beautiful women living in this house, Ranma, 
or just three and a half?" Preston's voice came through the door, almost 
making Ranma jump.
	"Uh... yeah...."  Preston must have been nearby and seen Ranma get 
punted into the pond earlier.  "I guess you've figured out my secret 
then...."  She supposed that it had been bound to happen at some point.  
Not much of a secret if everyone just found out eventually, one way or 
another.
	"So were you originally a guy or a girl?" Preston asked, still 
speaking through the door.
	"I'm a guy," Ranma grumbled.  Then something clicked in her mind.  
"Hey, how did you...?  You... you know about Jusenkyou?"  A frightening 
thought struck Ranma.  "You didn't actually GO there, did you?"
	"Long time ago..." Preston replied simply.  And then added after a 
pause, "So does this make you only half a man?"
	"Hey!  I'm still one-hundred percent man!"
	"Says the busty redhead with the cute voice."
	"Shut up!  Wait, if you've been to Jusenkyou... what spring did 
YOU fall into?"
	"Ma-niichuan."
	Ranma blinked.  "What's that?  Spring of Drowned... Horse?"
	"No, Spring of Drowned Yer Mom!  Now hurry up with your bath, 
lady.  I need to get my clean on!"
	"Don't call me lady," Ranma griped, snatching the soap from the 
soap dish and wondering at the foreigner's bizarre verbal antics.  She 
should have realized that if Preston had really been to Jusenkyou, they 
probably would have seen him change by now.
	Preston's voice came again after awhile.  "I have to say, Ranma, 
I'm curious...."
	Ranma felt the hair at the back of her neck stand up at his words, 
fearful of where the strange foreigner's thoughts were taking him.
	"Has being part female given you any insight into women, like how 
they think?" Preston finished.
	Ranma was so relieved by the innocuous nature of the question that 
she let out an involuntary bark of laughter.
	"Does that mean no?" Preston questioned.
	Ranma shook her head, even though Preston couldn't see the 
gesture.  "Some of the things girls do, I guess I can understand a 
little better, since I've had this body," Ranma replied.  "But I'd say 
on the whole I get them less now than I ever did."
	"Huh.  Really?  So did you interact with women a lot before you 
got cursed?"
	Ranma considered.  Attending an all-boys school and going on 
constant training trips hadn't presented a lot of female company, so... 
"Actually....  No."
	"Oh.  Maybe that has something to do with why you understand women 
less now than before."
	"Whaddya mean?"
	"'The more I see, the less I understand.'  That's the way it 
goes."
	"Ya think so?"  Ranma wondered where the quote was from or if 
Preston had just made it up.  She finished rinsing off the soap and 
climbed into the tub.
	"Do YOU understand women?" Ranma questioned, his voice returning 
to a more comfortable male timbre.
	"Not really," Preston admitted readily as he slid the door aside 
and stepped back into the room.  He gestured to the faucet and 
pantomimed scrubbing his hair.  "Do you mind?  No running water over at 
my place yet...."
	Ranma waved a hand.  "Go ahead; we're both guys now."
	Preston sat and unhooked the mobile shower-sprayer from its 
cradle.  "People in general don't make sense, Ranma.  That's just 
something you've got to understand.  Or accept, I guess -- can't really 
understand it, what with it not making sense and all."
	Easy for him to say, someone who, at least until now, never really 
seemed to make much sense himself.
	"Speak for yourself," Ranma replied.  "I make sense.  Akane does 
NOT make sense.  Guy, girl -- see the difference?"
	"Well," Preston said thoughtfully, soaping up his long hair, 
"RIGHT NOW you're a guy.  But what about later?"
	"I'm a GUY," Ranma reiterated.
	"Sure, sure," Preston agreed, somewhat dismissively.  "But why do 
you say Akane doesn't make sense?  She's a girl all the time, right?  
THAT makes sense.  Seems to me that spontaneous gender-switching makes a 
lot less sense than, well... not."
	"Will you shut up about that?" Ranma protested.  "She doesn't make 
sense BECAUSE she's a girl all the time!  Even when she is acting like 
an angry, violent, macho tomboy."
	"Really?" Preston said, sounding surprised.  "Never seen her 
acting like that.  Well, angry and violent, sure, but macho?  Tomboy?"  
He shook his head.  "Well, I've spent the past few years in America, so 
I guess most Japanese girls seem girly to me.  Different cultural 
standards."
	Ranma scratched his head, trying to wrap his mind around what this 
obviously cracked foreigner was saying.  "How the hell can a girl be 
angry and violent WITHOUT being a macho tomboy?"  The question sounded 
almost like a Zen koan, with something fundamentally fascinating about 
it's seeming unanswerability.
	"I don't know," Preston confided, "but it is DAMN cute, isn't it?  
Like your friend Ukyou-san, for example."
	"Okay, so now you're claiming a girl can be angry and violent but 
NOT a macho tomboy, AND... that it somehow makes her CUTE?" Ranma asked, 
bewildered.  Then he did a double-take.  "Whoa, wait, did you just say 
UCCHAN is like that?  And did you just call her Ukyou-SAN?"  Ranma's 
head was practically spinning.
	"Yeah.  She's angry a lot, and she gets violent -- normally I 
can't stand that kind of person, but somehow it just makes her even 
cuter.  Sounds crazy, doesn't it?"
	Yes, it did sound a bit crazy.  But crazy was hardly anything new 
to Ranma, and certainly nothing new from Preston.  However....
	"Hold on a minute," Ranma said.  "Back up.  You like Ucchan?"
	"Duh!" Preston answered as he rinsed out his hair.  "Who wouldn't?  
Hey, did you know she's in love with you?"
	Ranma waved this unimportant detail aside.  "Yeah, yeah, I know 
that.  So you're saying, like, you really LIKE her?"
	"She's great!"  Preston's eyes seemed to glow.  "So lovely, but so 
confused.  She's like... like a beautiful tangle of Christmas lights 
just waiting to be unraveled."  His fingers twitched in front of him, as 
if he were anticipating doing just that.
	"Uh, yeah, the hand thing?"  Ranma pointed.  "Creepin' me out."
	"Sorry."  Preston placed his palms on his knees.
	"So let me get this straight," Ranma began.  "YOU like Ucchan.  
You know Ucchan likes ME."
	"Uh-huh."
	"So... why aren't you trying to kill me?"
	Preston shrugged.  "Should I be?"
	"Well...."  Ranma thought for a moment.  "It's what I'm used to."
	"The way I see it, Ranma, it's hardly your fault that Ukyou-san 
likes you.  She's obviously deluding herself," Preston explained.  "I 
mean, hey, you seem like a pretty cool guy; I've got nothing against you 
personally.  In fact, I wish you a very happy life with Akane."
	"Hey!" Ranma protested.  "Who says I WANT a happy life with that 
dumb tomboy?"
	"What, so you want an unhappy life with her?"
	"No!  Argh, that's not what I mean!"
	"Okay.  What DO you mean then?"
	Ranma paused.  He opened his mouth -- shut it.  He looked away, 
suddenly finding something very compelling about staring at the mortar 
between the tiles on the wall.
	"I can't understand her at all," he grumbled after a moment of 
silence.  "She's always hittin' me and stuff for no good reason."
	"Sounds like a match made in heaven," Preston commented.
	Ranma caught the irony in Preston's voice, and smirked.
	"Yeah.  Or a match made in HELL maybe."
	Preston seemed to ponder this.  "Wouldn't a match made in hell 
still be legally binding?  Or at least cosmically binding?"
	Ranma snorted.  "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if she didn't get 
angry and fly off the handle all the time -- I mean, jeez!  And maybe if 
she BELIEVED me every once in a while!  Or if she actually even bothered 
to stop and LISTEN in the first place, then maybe, maybe...!"
	"Yeah?" Preston prompted as he soaped up his arms.  "Then maybe... 
what?"
	Ranma sank back in the tub.  "Nothin'"
	Preston was silent for a moment, concentrating on washing himself, 
but he did finally speak up again.  "Hey, you can talk to me all you 
want, but have you ever tried talking to AKANE about this stuff?"
	"Naw," Ranma replied sullenly.  "She wouldn't listen anyhow.  She 
never does."
	"Well," Preston shrugged.  "Just a thought."
	Unfortunately, it was entirely too sensible a suggestion to 
actually work -- at least not with Akane, since, as near as Ranma could 
tell, Akane and sensible seemed to mix about as well as water and oil.  
Or vinegar and baking soda.
	And yet... Ranma supposed it couldn't really hurt to try.  At 
least, not much more than usual.

	Kouryuu knew that many people would be surprised to learn that, 
despite his dedication to the martial arts, he didn't really like 
fighting.  Certainly, even the most intense contest of martial arts 
prowess could be enjoyable, as long as it didn't involve the negative 
emotions and intent to harm that Kouryuu associated with a "real" fight.  
He had never fit in with the other novices at the monastery, being 
Japanese by heritage, and it seemed like he had been in a fight every 
day of his young life.  He was tired of that kind of desperate, angry 
grappling.  All that Kouryuu cared to engage in now was martial arts for 
its own sake -- and, when the occasion warranted, for the protection of 
others of course.
	Which was one reason why he was now slipping quietly along the 
backstreets of Nerima, far from the Tendou Dojo and, he hoped, now also 
far from the girl who had called herself Xian Pu.  As for the other 
reason, he had recognized her accent, and he had grown up near enough to 
Jouketsuzoku to know the dire consequences of winning against a Chinese 
Amazon.  But he wasn't about to let himself LOSE to one, not in a real 
fight.  If there was anything he hated more than a fight, it was the 
humliation of losing one.
	Besides, one small girl could hardly present a decent challenge, 
even if she was from Jouketsuzoku.  Maybe if there had been ten Amazons, 
Kouryuu mused, then his style would really have had a chance to shine.  
He had developed it to defend against multiple opponents ganging up on 
him after all.
	"Excuse me..." a voice floated down to him from above.  Kouruu 
looked up.  A long-haired young man wearing thick coke-bottle glasses 
and traditional male Jouketsuzoku garb was crouching on the gutter of a 
rooftop just above Kouryuu's head.
	"Did you happen to see a beautiful purple-haired Chinese girl pass 
by this way?" the stranger asked politely.
	"Yes, as a matter of fact I did," Kouryuu replied.  "I believe she 
went that way."  He pointed.
	"Thanks."  The Chinese stranger bounded off over the rooftops in 
the direction Kouryuu had indicated.
	"Be careful!" Kouryuu called after.  "She was very angry when I 
saw her!"
	The young stranger waved back in thanks for the warning as he 
disappeared over the peak of a high roof.  Kouryuu hoped he knew what 
he was doing.
	Returning his attention to his own predicament, Kouryuu assessed 
the situation.  Free of pursuit by any homicidal Chinese Amazons, at 
least for the time being, he had only one problem left.  He wasn't sure 
exactly where he was.
	Kouryuu stepped out of the alley he had been working his way down 
and onto a shop-lined thoroughfare, trying to get his bearings.  A 
passing youth met his gaze.
	"Excuse me," he hailed the young man.  "You wouldn't happen to 
know where the Tendou Dojo is from here, would you?"
	The young man looked stunned for a moment, his mouth hanging open.  
"I... I was just about to ask YOU that!"
	"Oh?" Kouryuu blinked in surprise.  He took in the young man's 
ragged appearance, his backpack, and umbrella.  Obviously he had been 
traveling for quite some time, and Kouryuu certainly didn't recognize 
him as a currently enrolled student.  Could the Tendou Dojo already be 
attracting newcomers from so far afield?
	"Why are YOU trying to get there?" the stranger was asking him.  
	"I teach there," Kouryuu explained simply.
	"Teach there?" the young man repeated, puzzled.  "Teach what?"
	After a pause, Kouryuu replied slowly, "Martial arts..." wondering 
why this should be unobvious.
	The young man smiled sheepishly.  "Oh.  Right.  Heh.  Um... I'm 
Ryouga by the way.  Hibiki Ryouga."
	"Pleased to meet you, Hibiki-san."  Kouryuu bowed in greeting.  
"Kouryuu, at your service.  So you say you're trying to find your way to 
the Tendou Dojo?"
	"Mm," Ryouga nodded.
	"Well, maybe we can find it if we work together.  I'm fairly 
certain it's somewhere in that direction."  He gestured.
	"Really?  And here I was heading that way," Ryouga said, pointing 
in the opposite direction -- which was not, Kouryuu noted, even vaguely 
the direction the obviously confused young man had been headed in.
	"I see... well, let's try this way first, and if we don't find the 
dojo, we can look in that direction."
	Ryouga nodded agreement, and stepped out determinedly.
	"Ah... Hibiki-san..." Kouryuu stalled him.  "It's... this way."
	Ryouga blinked.  "Oh."

	Nabiki was in a foul mood.  Not only had Kunou's strange parting 
words been nagging her with an irritation she couldn't explain, but now 
her own big sister had found a way to inflict new frustration on her.
	"Sis... did you HAVE to invite Preston to stay for dinner?"
	"Well I couldn't just leave him to sit all alone in that big, 
empty house nextdoor," Kasumi replied matter-of-factly.
	"Why not?" Nabiki asked angrily.  "I'm sure he's perfectly capable 
of eating dinner by himself."
	"Don't be ridiculous, Nabiki-chan," Kasumi chided as she put some 
finishing touches on the evening's repast.  "Who would cook for him?"
	Nabiki rolled her eyes.  "Okay, well then why did you tell him to 
sit next to ME?"
	"It only seemed reasonable," Kasumi said.  "You're English IS best 
in the family after all."
	Nabiki's hand went up to massage the bridge of her nose.  Were 
people around her willfully trying to make her life more difficult, or 
did some deity just really hate her?
	"In case you hadn't noticed, Sis, Preston SPEAKS JAPANESE."
	"Well, yes," Kasumi replied, as if that went without saying.  "But 
I wanted to make him feel as comfortable as possible."
	<What about MY comfort?!> Nabiki raged silently.
	"Besides," Kasumi was saying, "it will be a good chance for you to 
chat with Preston-kun.  He's such a nice young man."
	"No he isn't!" Nabiki objected.  "He's a twit!"
	"Really, Nabiki-chan," Kasumi scolded her, turning away from her 
cooking.  "Don't be rude.  He's our guest."
	"That doesn't seem to stop him from being a twit," Nabiki shot 
back.
	Kasumi seemed to consider this for a moment. "No," she finally 
replied.  "I suppose not.  But he's still a very nice young man."
	Nabiki sighed.  As if THAT made any sense.  "Sis, have you ever 
even met someone you didn't think was nice?"
	"I don't think so, Nabiki-chan," Kasumi replied readily, turning 
back to the makings of their meal.  "But I'm fairly certain I've seen 
some on television before.  They had AWFUL haircuts."
	Nabiki leaned back against the kitchen doorjamb with a growing 
sense of defeat.  "Sometimes, I can't decide who's more unbelievable," 
she commented.  "The weirdoes who practice bizarre martial art forms and 
have crazy shape-changing curses -- or the one who doesn't seem to find 
anything strange about it."
	"Even cursed martial artists are perfectly decent people once you 
get to know them.  No one is perfect, you know," Kasumi said in a 
maternal tone that was just a hair shy of condescending.  She started 
placing dishes on a large serving platter.  "Take our family for 
instance.  We're far from ordinary.  Father is prone to unusually 
extreme emotional outbursts, but he's still a fine man and a good 
father.  Akane is hardly any better at controlling her emotions; she's 
incurably stubborn and horribly violent, but she's really a very sweet 
girl at heart.  And then there's you, Nabiki-chan--"
	"Okay, Sis, I get the point," Nabiki interrupted, somewhat loudly.  
She turned and retreated hastily into the dining area, not at all eager 
to hear what her sister had to say about her after the brutally honest 
assessment of the rest of the family.
	Nabiki took her seat next to Preston, but refused to look at him 
or even acknowledge his presence.  She had to sit next to him in class 
everyday, for crying out loud -- why did Kasumi have to subject her to 
him NOW too?
	Looking around for something else to focus her attention on, 
Nabiki was mildly surprised to discover Ranma's mother smiling at her 
from the other side of the table.
	"Auntie Saotome," Nabiki greeted her.  "When did you get here?"
	"Only just a few minutes ago," she answered.  "Kasumi called me 
earlier.  She said she was making extra tonight and didn't want anything 
to go to waste."  Nodoka's smile widened as she turned her gaze to her 
son sitting across the table from her.  "Not that I think there's much 
risk of that, what with Ranma and that bottomless pit of a husband of 
mine."
	Ranma grinned sheepishly, and Uncle Saotome, seated further down 
the table, just looked nervous -- which wasn't really a change, since he 
had already been eyeing the tightly wrapped bundle laying at his wife's 
side with a slightly disturbed look in on his face.
	But at that moment everyone's attention was diverted as Kasumi 
entered with a large tray laden with steaming bowls of rice.
	"Do you need any help?" Preston offered as he watched her carry in 
the sizeable tray.
	"Don't be silly," Kasumi said almost laughingly as she set a bowl 
in front of him.  "Men don't serve the food."
	Preston raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing.
	As Kasumi placed the last bowl on the table, heads came up at the 
sound of the front door opening, and someone timidly announcing 
themselves.
	"Maybe that's Kouryuu-san," Kasumi said, straightening up and 
heading out to meet the new arrival.  "We won't have to start without 
him after all."
	Nabiki doubted it was Kouryuu at all, unless his voice had gone up 
an octave or two since she'd last spoken to him -- which she couldn't 
really rule out as entirely impossible.  It happened to Ranma all the 
time, after all.
	The truth proved much simpler, as a moment later Kasumi led in 
Akane's friend Emi.  No, make that Akane and Ranma's homeroom teacher, 
Sakai-sensei.  She was dressed in sensible business attire -- that 
looked almost as good on her as it would have on Nabiki herself, Nabiki 
judged -- so she was obviously here in an official capacity.
	"Oh!" she said in embarrassed surprise as she stepped into the 
room and saw everyone sitting around the table ready for dinner.  "I'm 
so sorry, it looks like I've come at a bad time."
	"Oh, no, not at all," Kasumi assured her.  "Please, join us."
	"Yes, please stay, Emi," Akane put in.
	"No, I couldn't possibly."
	"I insist, you absolutely must stay."  Kasumi smiled at Emi 
winningly.
	Nabiki could practically see the young woman's reluctance melt 
away.  <Hostess Kasumi strikes again,> Nabiki thought.
	"Well, if you REALLY insist," Emi said.
	"I do, I do.  Akane, please get out the folding table so that we 
have enough room for everyone."
	Akane hopped up eagerly and retrieved the low folding table from 
where it leaned against the wall.
	"I... I actually just dropped by to talk to Ranma's parents... 
about his grades."
	Ranma, who had been slouching against the table and eyeing Emi 
warily and without favor, sat bolt upright and lost most of the color in 
his face.
	"That would be me, then," Nodoka said, getting to her feet and 
bowing.  "Saotome Nodoka.  I'm pleased to meet you, Sakai-sensei."  She 
waved a hand down the table at her husband.  "You don't want to talk to 
him about anything serious, he won't listen.
	"You really do have excellent timing, you know, since I'm not here 
all that often; I live elsewhere," Nodoka continued as she sat again and 
patted the cushion next to her.  "Why don't you sit here next to me and 
we can talk ALL about Ranma's schoolwork."  The fierce smile in her 
eyes, as she looked across the table at her son, was almost frightening.
	Akane finished setting up the folding table flush with the main 
table, and sat down on Emi's other side.
	The sound of the front door opening again echoed from the hallway, 
this time accompanied by the sound of two voices conversing, both 
distinctly male.
	"Now, who could THAT be?" Kasumi wondered aloud, though quite 
cheerfully -- how else?
	A moment later, Kouryuu stepped into the room followed by Ryouga.
	"I've returned," Kouryuu announced.
	"Welcome back," several voices greeted him in a what sounded like 
a badly timed round.
	"I'm sorry I'm late; I got a little lost," he explained as he 
stepped further into the room to allow Ryouga in -- although Ryouga 
seemed to be more content hiding behind Kouryuu's tall frame.
	"But it all worked out quite well," Kouryuu continued, "since I 
happened upon Hibiki-san here, who said he knew you and was looking for 
the dojo as well, and we helped each other find our way back."
	"S-sorry to intrude," Ryouga stammered, rubbing the back of his 
head in embarrassment.  He sent a glare at Ranma, but Ranma didn't 
notice since he was clearly too busy sweating as Emi discussed his 
severe academic shortcomings with his concerned mother.
	"Oh, Sakai-san, good evening," Kouryuu said as he noticed her.  
"And... I don't believe we've met...?"  He bowed to Nodoka.
	Introductions were made and greetings were exchanged all around, 
and everyone got down to eating.
	<Finally,> Nabiki thought.  She had started to worry that the 
interruptions would never cease.  She wanted nothing more than to finish 
with this meal and leave Preston to his own devices -- which could be 
as foolish or impudent as he wanted them to be, since as long as they 
didn't involve her she hardly cared.  Admittedly, he had been remarkably 
subdued so far, and hadn't done anything obnoxious YET, but Nabiki 
figured it was only a matter of time.
	Some people tried to chat amiably, but the multiple interpersonal 
tensions and anxieties around the table kept the mood a bit strained and 
awkward at best.
	"This has turned into quite the dinner-party, hasn't it?" Father 
commented with a slightly forced smile as he ate.
	"Party?" Preston broke in, speaking for the first time since 
Kasumi had started serving them.  "What's a party without music?"  And 
with that he got up and left.
	"What a funny young man," Kasumi remarked after he'd gone.
	"Don't you mean a twit?" Nabiki corrected.
	"Nabiki-chan, stop saying that."
	"Do you think he's coming back for the rest of this?" Ranma asked, 
eyeing Preston's nearly untouched meal.
	His mother looked ready to slap his hand if he made a move for the 
food.  "Well, he didn't say he was finished yet, so don't you touch it."
	For her own part, Nabiki hoped the frustrating foreigner didn't 
come back.  But a few short minutes later, Preston reappeared -- with a 
guitar dangling from his grip.
	Without so much as a word, he pulled his cushion away from the 
table to give himself some room, sat, and, his eyes intent on the guitar 
strings, started playing.
	And played quite well, much to Nabiki's surprise -- and to the 
surprise of just about everyone else, Nabiki saw by the expressions on 
their faces.  Across the table, Auntie Saotome smiled and swayed very 
slightly in appreciation, and Father got the distant, serious look he 
always got when he was enjoying something.
	Scattered applause greeted the end of his impromptu performance -- 
Nabiki tried to make her claps as small and contemptuous as possible, to 
hide the fact that she was genuinely impressed.  Preston just grinned, 
looking slightly embarrassed, which Nabiki thought a novelty.
	Preston held up the guitar.  "Anyone else wanna take a turn?  My 
finger's'll just get tired if I keep it up too long."
	Father cleared his throat.  All heads turned to him.
	"Well," he said.  "It's been a long time, but... I suppose I might 
give it a try.
	"I didn't know you could play the guitar, Dad," Akane said in
astonishment as Preston walked over and handed it to him.
	<She doesn't remember,> Nabiki realized.  Father hadn't picked up 
a guitar since their mother had died well over ten years ago.
	Nevertheless, his fingers seemed to curl around the instrument as 
though they belonged there.  He plucked a string experimentally.
	Nabiki almost held her breath, hardly able to believe what she was 
seeing.  Was he really ready to try THIS again, after so long?  Could he 
step back into the shoes of the younger, more stable man he had once 
been, back when he had trained students at the Tendou Dojo?
	Father played a brief scale.
	"It HAS been a long time," he muttered, mostly to himself.
	But, after a few false starts, he launched into a slow, rhythmic 
piece that instantly sent Nabiki reeling back in time.  With an 
unexpected sting of nostalgia, the image of her father, playing the 
very same tune at her childhood bedside, flashed before her mind's 
eye.  Nabiki remembered how she would always remain awake to hear the 
end of the song while her sisters both drifted off to sleep before her.  
It was a memory she hadn't thought about in years, and it unsettled her 
to have it so suddenly and forcefully recalled to her mind.  Nabiki 
rarely thought about her childhood anymore.  Looking back on the happy 
innocence of that time always made her feel oddly... weak.
	Nabiki took a deep breath, trying not to make it sound like a sob 
or a sigh.  Maybe her father's rediscovery of the guitar was more 
trouble than it was worth.
	"That was so pretty," Akane said when their father had finished, 
looking like her eyes were about to tear up.  Nabiki desperately hoped 
hers weren't.
	"Yeah, I liked that," Preston said approvingly from beside Nabiki.  
"Can you play something fast?"
	"Hmm...."  Father frowned down at the guitar strings.  He played a 
little bit of something more rapid.  "You mean like that?"
	"Yeah, just like that.  That was good," Preston responded with 
rising enthusiasm.  "Sounds kind of... Spanish, or something."
	"I don't remember you ever playing anything like that, Father," 
Kasumi commented.
	Father grinned at her over the finger-board.  "I used to serenade 
your mother with tunes like that one, when we were young.  She thought 
it was terribly exotic."
	"Go ahead and play some more of that," Preston urged.  "That's the 
kind of music a party needs."
	Father shrugged a little, as if to say, "Very well," and started 
playing again.  Preston bolted down his food faster than Nabiki's eye 
could follow, and then suddenly grabbed her hand, making her jump.
	"C'mon," he said, pulling her to her feet.  "What's a party 
without dancing?"
	Nabiki tried to resist, but even she wasn't immune to the festival 
mood that seemed to be infecting everyone in the room -- except Preston, 
who, as near as Nabiki could tell, was always in the festival mood.
	Still, she tried to keep her cool as Preston danced her about like 
he'd had too much to drink (but without the usual lack of coordination).
	"Preston... what are you doing?" she asked in a voice pitched so 
only he could hear her.  She tried to give him a wary look, but she was 
having trouble not laughing at his antics, especially since everyone 
else in the room had already given into the impulse.
	"Dancing, what does it look like?" he replied.
	But, even without taking a good look around the room, Nabiki could 
tell that Preston had, almost single-handedly, changed the atmosphere 
and tone of the gathering completely in just a few minutes.  Whereas 
most people at the table had been eyeing or ignoring each other with 
various levels of irritation or anxiety, now everyone was clearly 
enjoying themselves, laughing and tapping their toes to the music.  It 
was, to say the least, impressive, even to Nabiki who considered herself 
well versed in directing the ebb and flow of human reaction and emotion.
	The song Father had been playing ended, and Preston grinned and 
bowed to her as more laughter and clapping rang out.  Nabiki just 
lifted an eyebrow at Preston and let slip half a smile -- for show, of 
course.
	"Now that's good music for dancing," Preston remarked loudly to 
the table.
	"You're up to something," Nabiki said to him in an undervoice as 
he accepted the guitar back from Father, who handed it across the table 
to him.
	Preston just grinned at her again.  "We used to party like this 
back in America."
	"I thought you said you weren't from America."
	"I'm not.  We used to party like this in New Zealand, too."
	"So you're from New Zealand then?"
	His grin broadened.  "Nope."
	"Canada?  England?  Ireland?"  Nabiki wracked her brain.  "The 
Bahamas?  Guam?"
	Preston winked at her as he slung the guitar strap around his 
neck.  "Hong Kong."
	Nabiki just rolled her eyes.

	"So... Kouryuu-san," Emi said.  "You don't dance?"
	Besides him, everyone had gotten up at least once to make fools of 
themselves as Akane's father and Preston took turns playing, although 
Ranma's father, Genma, had disappeared somewhere fairly early on.  Akane 
had persuaded Emi to dance already -- which for some reason had seemed 
to annoy Ranma, much to Emi's mystified satisfaction.  Even Ranma 
himself had reluctantly gotten up to take an unenthusiastic turn around 
the room at the urging of his mother.
	Kouryuu looked away.  "I, ah, never learned," he replied, a bit 
sheepishly.
	Considering the grace and agility he had shown in their brief 
sparring match a few days before, not to mention everything she had seen 
of him since, Emi guessed that he would have no trouble improvising.
	"I grew up in a monastery," he explained.  "Monks don't engage in 
that sort of thing.  Too... improprietous."
	"A monastery?" Emi repeated.  "That's unusual."
	"Yes, well, if they hadn't taken me in, I probably would have died 
of exposure in the mountains -- or possibly been eaten by tigers."
	"Tigers?" Emi blurted, and then felt like a parrot, repeating his 
own words back to him yet again.  "In Japan?"
	"Oh, no," he smiled.  "I grew up in the Qinghai province of China, 
near a place called Jusenkyou.  Have you heard of it?"
	Emi shook her head dumbly.
	"Not surprising.  It's a long way from civilization."  Kouryuu 
sipped his tea and went back to watching the festivities, still seeming 
somehow apart from them despite being in their midst.
	Emi had hardly thought that the tall reserved man could become any 
more of an enigma, but learning about his origins had only seemed to 
deepen the mystery.  And yet, there was still something that seemed so 
obvious, so apparent about him.  He was always very THERE -- solid.  
When he looked at something, you knew he was seeing it, and when he 
listened to you, you knew he was hearing you.  He seemed oddly caught 
somewhere between being a pinnacle of authenticity, and giving the lie 
to his smiles with taciturn silence.
	Turning her attention back to the gathering, Emi noted that Akane 
and Ranma were still sending each other strange furtive glances from 
across the room, as if they were both trying to watch each other without 
letting on that they were watching.
	"What's with them?" Emi leaned over and asked Kouryuu in an 
undervoice, seeing that his eyes were also following the odd interplay.
	"My guess is that they each feel compelled to ask the other to 
dance, but they're too embarrassed or too shy."
	"Why would they be embarrassed?" Emi wondered aloud.  They had 
danced with other people already, after all.
	Kouryuu shrugged slightly.  "Young people get like that, I 
suppose.  If they dance together, that sends a message, and I don't get 
the impression that either of them are entirely comfortable with their 
feelings."
	<What message?> Emi wondered.  <What feelings?>
	Then a sudden coldness hit the pit of her stomach.
	"Kouryuu-san... will you excuse me for a moment?" she said 
somewhat stiffly.  "I've... just realized something."
	Kouryuu raised his eyebrows.  "Certainly."
	She tried to give him an apologetic look as she rose.  Walking 
over to Akane who was sitting by her father as he strummed away at the 
guitar, Emi touched her young friend's shoulder.
	"Can we talk?" she said as Akane looked up.  "Now?"
	"Sure," Akane answered, looking a bit bewildered.
	Emi took her by the wrist and pulled her gently but firmly out 
onto the deck, where they were easily out of earshot of the rest of the 
party, all talking and laughing and playing music quite loud enough to 
prevent anyone from eavesdropping.
	Emi took a breath, organizing her thoughts, and decided to cut 
straight to the heart of the matter.
	"Why didn't you tell me that Ranma was your fiancé?"
	Akane's eyes went wide, confirming Emi's words.  "How did you... 
how did you know?"
	Emi waved this away.  "That's not important -- I figured it out.  
Akane, how could you... RANMA is your fiancé!"
	"I'm sorry."  Akane fidgeted, looking downcast.  "I thought... I 
mean, I knew you hated him, I thought if you knew...."
	"Akane, this doesn't affect our friendship," Emi assured her.  
"I'm a bit angry that you kept this from me, but, Akane... it's RANMA.  
I mean, you don't even LIKE him."
	Akane looked out into the yard in a way that worried Emi more than 
she wanted to admit.
	"You said he was a jerk and a pervert!"
	Akane looked down at the floor.
	"Well?" Emi prompted her.
	Akane said nothing.
	Emi threw her hands up in exasperation.  "What about all that 
stuff you said he did?"  The charges of verbal abuse and infidelity that 
Akane had leveled at her fiancé seemed five times worse now that Emi had 
a name and a face to go with them -- especially since it was one she 
already had such a low opinion of.  She new she was letting her personal 
distaste for Ranma as an obnoxious, self-righteous male get the better 
of her, but she trusted her own judgment even in that.
	"What about that other girl, Ukyou?" Emi went on when Akane didn't 
respond, remembering the incident with Akane's strange transvestite 
classmate.  "Didn't she claim she was Ranma's fiancée?"
	"That's what SHE says," Akane said, looking away off at nothing 
again.
	Some of the accusations against Ranma started to make more sense 
-- stringing along other girls indeed.  "Well, has Ranma done anything 
to... dissuade Ukyou of that notion?"
	As the moon came out from behind a cloud, illuminating the dim 
porch, Emi saw that Akane's jaw was set, and tears were standing out in 
her eyes.
	"Yes," she whispered in response to Emi's question, her voice 
barely audible over the noise from inside.  Some of the tension seemed 
to drain away with that utterance; her voice gained a little more volume 
and confidence.  "I... I think he has."
	"You think?" Emi questioned.
	"What do you expect me to do?" Akane suddenly snapped in obvious 
frustration.  "Ask him?"
	"Yes!" Emi shot back.  "No, actually, don't ask him -- TELL him."
	"What?"
	"Tell him, 'Ditch the other woman, or we're through.'  Just like 
that."  Emi thought it might be better if Akane just skipped to the 
"we're through" part.  But it wasn't up to her.
	"It's not that simple," Akane was saying.  "Besides, he wouldn't 
do it.  I think... he doesn't want to hurt Ukyou's feelings."
	"Ranma doesn't strike me as that considerate," Emi returned 
blandly.
	"You don't understand," Akane said, shaking her head.  "They were 
best friends when they were little... I think maybe Ukyou was in love 
with him even back then."  Akane smiled in a mix of bitterness and fond 
remembrance.  "One time Ukyou made some okonomiyaki sauce that turned 
out absolutely awful.  But Ranma told her it tasted good just because he 
didn't want to hurt her feelings."  Her gaze went sad and distant.  
"He's never done anything like that for me.  He won't touch my cooking."
	"Maybe he respects you enough to tell you the truth.  At least 
about some things."
	Akane's expression looked somewhere between hopeful and fearful of 
this possibility.  "But... then why doesn't he take me seriously as a 
martial artist?"
	"I'm not saying he respects you as much as he should," Emi said,  
"or near as much as you deserve.  But if he's willing to be honest with 
you, that's a good sign."
	It should have been cold comfort to Akane, but by the look in her 
eyes, she seemed to grab a hold of the notion like a starving woman 
clutching at a crust of bread.  That was what those looks between her 
and Ranma had been, Emi realized -- two people, each starving for the 
attention and respect of the other, both barred by pride or 
circumstances from crossing the room to feed that hunger.
	But what was holding them back?  The presence of their families?  
That made a certain amount of twisted sense.  Emi knew that if her 
family tried to set her up with some man, the last thing she would want 
to do would be to give them the satisfaction of showing she actually 
liked him.
	"Honesty is important for a couple," Emi said, feeling a bit trite 
but wanting to encourage Akane in the right direction -- although a less 
reasonable part of her was screaming at her to just march back inside 
and beat the tar out of Ranma.
	"We're not a couple," Akane fairly growled, but seemed to lack 
conviction, as if saying it were just a conditioned reaction.
	A new thought occured to Emi.  "Have you even... told Ranma you 
like him?"  Was this a secret tryst so secret that even its participants 
remained blind to it?
	"What if I don't like him?" Akane retorted, crossing her arms over 
her chest.
	"Akane..." Emi said gently.
	Akane's voice became very small.  "What if he doesn't like me?"
	Emi wished with all her heart that she could lie and tell Akane 
that Ranma clearly wasn't interested in her.
	"I don't know how he feels," she said instead.  "But neither will 
you until you ask him."
	"It's not that simple," Akane said for the second time.  "Besides, 
who says I want to know, anyway?"
	"Want to know what?"
	Emi spun at the sound, startled.  Ranma had come up on them 
unawares.
	"Pervert!" Akane yelled at him.  "What do you think you're doing, 
sneaking up on us in the dark like that?!"
	"Who's sneaking?" Ranma snapped back indignantly.  "You two are 
the ones who snuck off over here and started whisperin' about who knows 
what.  What's the big secret?"  He looked warily between them.
	"The secret is you're an idiot, Ranma!"
	"That's no secret," Emi put in before Ranma could respond.  "It's 
common knowledge.  I have records on file that prove it."
	Akane burst into laughter.
	"Listen, 'sensei,'" Ranma began, but suddenly stopped, his 
attention drawn by something out in the yard, his eyes suddenly alert.
	"Hold on a sec."  He disappeared into the darkness.
	Akane drew closer to Emi, her voice gone abruptly fearful.  "What 
do you think he saw?"
	Emi shook her head, frowning out into the night.  She couldn't 
make out anything.
	"Do you think... could it be a burglar?" Akane whispered.
	There was a sudden yelp from the darkness; Emi felt Akane jump 
beside her.
	A moment passed in silence.  Then Ranma's voice called out to 
them, "It's all right."  He came trotting up carrying someone by the 
collar of their shirt.  "No worries," he said, grinning.  "It's only 
Gosenkugi."  Emi recognized the scrawny nervous youth as one of Akane 
and Ranma's classmates.
	"Who's this?" Kasumi's voice sounded from behind Emi, who turned 
to discover the eldest Tendou sister had come out onto the porch.  "A 
friend of yours, Ranma?"
	"Nah," he said, giving the boy a little shake, like he was a fish 
that was too small and should be thrown back.  "Just Gosenkugi."
	"Well, do bring him in for some desert," Kasumi said, turning and 
going back inside.
	Ranma shrugged and carried Gosenkugi up onto the porch.
	"What are you DOING here?" Akane demanded of the sickly-looking 
young man, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously.
	"She... she spoke to me...."  Gosenkugi put a hand to his face, 
looking overwhelmed, as Ranma marched him past and into the house, 
making sure his shoes didn't touch the floor.
	Emi noted the camera hanging from around his neck and put two and 
two together.  <Creepy if otherwise harmless stalker,> she surmised.  It 
seemed there were a few other intricacies in Akane's obviously complex 
romantic situation that she had failed to mention.  She certainly had 
more admirers than Emi had ever had -- or ever wanted.  Emi had to 
wonder why Akane had trouble believing in her own ability to attract and 
keep male attention.  Not that Emi could count any one of Akane's 
current prospects as even remotely worthy of her, even in the most 
generous of assessments.  Emi supposed that that arose from the fact 
that all of them were teenage boys.
	But right now, Emi was wondering if it had been entirely wise to 
take on Ranma and Akane as students.  She was having enough trouble just 
navigating their personal lives.

End Part III

Part IV can be heard on BBC radio with narration by Sir Ian Holm and all 
characters performed by the Cookie Monster.

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