jugurtha@teleport.com (Paul A. Herring)


                       Jugurtha Productions Presents

                         Ranma 1/2--Paint it Black

            A romantic tragedie written in blood and circuitry
                                    by

                               Paul Herring


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          Ranma 1/2 and all related characters are (c) 1997 Rumiko Takahashi
and Shogakukan, Inc. Characters and concepts which make micro-cameo
appearances (Such as Yolande Ingolfsson and the Domination of the Draka,
Nurse Angel Lillia, A-Ko, etc.) belong to whoever created them. Whatever's
left--and it ain't much--is mine. Touch it and die.
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***********************WARNINGWARNINGWARNINGWARNING***********************

     SEX. VIOLENCE. LANGUAGE. GORE. IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE THESE THINGS, DO
NOT READ THIS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, PEOPLE. VERY DARK TERRAIN AHEAD.

***********************WARNINGWARNINGWARNINGWARNING***********************


     AUTHOR'S FORWARD--Hi, gang, and yookoso to this, the final,
definitive, complete version of my masterpiece, "Ranma 1/2--Paint it
Black." This posting includes the rewrites of the first two chapters which
I posted some weeks ago, as well as the whole of the rest of the story.
     Constructive criticism will be MUCH appreciated (thanks a ton for all
the E-mail; it's been VERY helpful in the rewrites) especially on matters
of characterization, entertainment value, etc. Flames will be ignored and
flushed. All told, this mother took me over a year to finish. *Whew!*
Enjoy.



     Prologue--Fifteen Months Ago:
     ". . .so, when doused with hot water, you return to human form," said
Soun. Genma half grinned, half winced at the sting.
     "Well, it needn't be quite that hot," he replied, thinking, (I'm
gonna have blisters if this keeps up).
     Soun turned to Ranma. "When doused with cold water, you become a
girl," he continued, ". . .but hot water turns you back into a boy!" Again
he poured the kettle, but Ranma dodged hastily out of the way.
     "HOT water!" she exclaimed, "not boiling!"
     Soun patted her on the back, and smiled like a used car salesman
trying to close a deal.
     "No sweat," he said. "Your problem isn't so terrible after all!"
     "Huh?" Ranma frowned, puzzled.
     Soun pointed out the oldest of his children. "My daughter, Kasumi,
nineteen." She gazed at Ranma dubiously, then looked away.
     (Well, that certainly won't work), mused Ranma.
     ". . .and Akane, sixteen."
     (Definite no-go), Ranma decided. (Hates guys; probably embarrassed by
my little, er, "problem.")
     ". . .And Nabiki, seventeen."
     (Her,) thought Ranma with a sudden deep conviction. (Her. She
actually likes me--she was the only one that was sweet to me when first I
arrived; if I have to be engaged it might as well be to someone who's
enthused about it. O.K., there's an end to it, then. . .)
     "Pick the one you want," finished Soun with a flourish. "She's your
fiancee."
     "Nabiki," blurted Ranma before anyone could say anything.
     There was a shocked little silence, and before her eyes Nabiki turned
a color she hitherto wouldn't have thought possible. But there it
was--definitely, unmistakably, a nice shade of seasick green.
     (Uh-oh,) thought Ranma.
     "A-A-Akane," stammered Nabiki, her face glistening with a light sheen
of sweat. "I-I think she means that sh--he wants Akane." She shot her
older sibling a glance that bespoke a trapped animal. "Right? Right,
Kasumi?"
     "Oh, most assuredly," agreed the eldest daughter. "Silly Ranma,
confusing us like that, and right after papa made the introductions! Her
name is Nabiki, not Akane."
     (What th--?) "I--but I meant--" she started to point.
     "Akane, Ranma." There was a definite edge to Nabiki's voice, and her
eyes bore into her own like twin acetylene torches. "You want. . .Akane."
     Ranma sucked in her breath. Slowly she nodded, and took an
involuntary step back. Her arm fell limply to her side.
     Akane said nothing, but just sat there, eyes tightly closed, a slight
tremor running up and down the length of her body. Her breathing was
shallow, and her face was beet red.



                                    I.

                                I got a girl who lives with me
  Woman                         I got a girl she smells so sweetly
  Is the nigger                 I got a girl who speaks her mind
  Of the world                  I got a girl who'll argue anytime
  Yes she is. . .               I got a girl who stares in the mirror
  . . .think about it. . .      I got a girl who blames it on her period
   --John & Yoko Lennon,        I got a girl she is so small . . .
   "Woman is the nigger of      I got a girl who'll KNOCK DOWN ANY WALL
          the world."              --Tripping Daisy, "I got a girl"


     Presently:
     The birds of morning sang; the sunlight streamed between the leaves
and branches of the evergreens like shimmering fingers from heaven. The
beauty of the day, like the one before it, was marred by only one thing.
     "But WHY?!" asked Akane, the note of pleading in her voice jarring
unpleasantly with the anger. "Ranma, I-I know I don't cook that well, but
I tried this time, I really did. Kasumi helped me--"
     "Helped you what, scoop out the septic tank? Maybe add a few maggots
for seasoning--"
     "God, Ranma, I HATE you!!" she screamed. Hawking phlegm, she spat,
lofting the gobbet within centimeters of Ranma's face. He pulled left
barely in time, allowing the fetid mass to spatter instead upon his
shoulder.
     "BITCH!" he shrieked. "Just because I won't try your toxic lunch!
Well, fuck you, sow, I ain't never eatin' that crap you conjure, and you
can walk yourself to school!"
     "FINE!! I hope Ryouga beats the shit out of you on the way there!"
     On the sun porch of the Tendou dojo, Genma shook his head sadly as
the voices grew in pitch and intensity before fading off down the road
towards Furinkan High. His sour thoughts were echoed by Soun, who had come
out to stand behind him, basking in the morning rays.
     "Genma, my old friend. . .this situation is not good." He sat down
beside him, in the lotus position, and handed his companion a raku-ware
"chawan," a tea-bowl. "They are fighting more then ever, now."
     "Each day they seem to break out in a new and more violent argument,"
agreed Genma. "The times when they are NOT fighting seem to be fewer and
further between." He frowned for a moment, then brightened.
     "Perhaps. . .perhaps it is just a phase. . ."
     "I doubt that," said a voice from within. Genma winced. It was his
wife, the formidable Nodoka, on her way to the practice room. "At this
rate, they'll kill each other before we can march them down the isle."
     "I'm afraid I must agree," mused Soun. "Yesterday Ranma compared her
to a festering boil, and she shoved him into the fountain by way of
reply." They had actually had to separate the two before they came to
further blows. With his vastly superior martial arts skills, Ranma could
easily have killed or crippled Akane, and at that moment looked ready to
do so, remembered Genma with a shudder. He had never seen him so angry.
     "Before that, Ranma had rather pointedly flushed the cake Akane was
baking down the toilet," Soun continued, an edge in his voice. "And the
day before that, Akane had rated your son's fighting skills several
notches below Ryouga, and asked him if he were training with Happosai
because he had 'picked up so many of his pervo habits.'"
     "Yessss. . ." said Genma. Nearby, some wind chimes tolled gently in
the warm breeze of early summer. "Soun, old friend, what are we to do? If,
Gods forbid, something really bad happens "--and here his voice dropped to
a whisper--" even my wife's sword will not be enough to make them take the
vows, and our sacred pledge to unite our Clans will be a dead letter."
(Along with me,) he thought grimly. Genma had already narrowly escaped
dismemberment at her hands four months earlier, when on an unexpected
visit she had discovered the truth about "Ranko" and her "Pet Panda." From
the practice room came the light, airy sound of Nodoka decapitating a
practice dummy, and then it's head hitting the floor. Swish-thump.
     There was silence for a moment as each man dove deep into the sea of
thought. The gurgle of water rose softly from the stone fountain gracing
the center of the yard. Small brown birds alighted upon the statue and
after a few moments flew off again, oblivious. Above, the sun continued to
shine.
     "It is said. . .that absence makes the heart grow fonder," Soun
finally spoke. "It is my belief that were they separated for a time, the
situation might conceivably improve."
     Genma stared at him. "What?!"
     "Consider," continued Soun calmly. "The current school year is fast
drawing to a close, and shortly the hot days of summer will be upon us. If
they were sent on separate vacations--say, one of them to Hawaii--perhaps
it would give their anger time to cool and, along with our admonishments,
they would resign themselves to their common fate. Besides," he looked at
his friend, "do you remember what happened last summer?"
     Genma nodded, a frown creasing his face.
     "Do you want to go through something like that again?"
     "Certainly not." They were still repairing some of the damage even
now.
     "Then there you have it," Soun finished triumphantly. "At the very
least it would be cheaper then having them here together, fighting one
another and the would-be suitors both of them seem to attract."
Swish-thump.
     Genma suddenly shook his head. "No."
     "Hmm?"
     "I've a better idea," he said slowly.
     Soun let out an exasperated sigh. "What, Genma?"
     His friend locked eyes with him. "Let's get them married right now."
     Soun cocked an eyebrow quizzically.
     "Yes, don't you see?" asked Genma. "All of our problems would
disappear if they were hitched at once. We should call them both in here
and tell them that they are getting married RIGHT THIS SUNDAY and that
there'll be nothing more said about it. Then we can maybe pool our money
and build a nice *bekkan* for them on the dojo grounds, where we can keep
an eye on them at the same time we are driving home in their minds their
new matrimonial state." He stood, excitement lighting up his face. "It's
perfect." Swish-thump.
     "Genma, I don't--" Soun began.
     "I agree."
     (Oh, no,) thought Soun miserably. He and his companion looked back at
the door to see Nodoka standing there, smiling, katana in hand, mopping
her brow with a handkerchief.
     "I like the idea," she amplified, stepping out onto the porch. "Not
only will the arrangement make the union of our two families a done deal,
it will also automatically negate the claims of those sluts chasing my son
around."
     "Then it will have to be done as quickly as possible," said Soun. "As
soon as word leaks out, they will mass their forces and come at us with
everything they have."
     "Let them," said Nodoka, and a shadow passed over her face. Soun went
cold. "If they will not listen to reason, then they will listen to my
sword, and it will be the last thing that they ever hear." She thought for
a moment.
     "Still," she went on, "I am not interested in a rushed, hasty rite
that's carried out as though they were a pair of fugitives on the run. We
must not make the machinations of our enemies effect the solemnity of the
day."
     "You. . .would prefer a larger ceremony?" ventured Genma timidly.
"Dearest, that will give our rivals time to prepare an attack--"
     "No one will attack us if everyone keeps their mouths shut," she said
pointedly. "And even if they do, we will be ready for them, especially
that whore Shampoo and the old fossil she calls her grandmother."
     "Great-grandmother," said Soun.
     "Whatever. It is they who we need to worry about the most; four times
this past month alone they have set upon us without warning, attempting to
shanghai my son off to godforsaken China; and if not that they have
attempted to feed him Shampoo's poisonous cooking, so as to warp his mind
and make him lust for her." She was kneeling now, carefully wrapping her
katana, lovingly rolling it in an ancient oilcloth.
     "They will be the first to come after us, they and that vagabond
okonomiyaki chief."
     "So." Soun considered. "The only ones who should know about this arer
us three, Ranma and Akane. All the wedding preparations--buying the dress,
arranging the catering, the rehearsal, etc., should be conducted out of
sight whenever feasible. And any invites should be mailed as close to the
actual date as possible." A sigh. "This is gonna take a lot of preliminary
planning. . ."
     "I leave that to you two--subject to my approval, of course." Her
smile was a shark's grin. "But it will have to be done as quickly as
possible. This marriage must take place no later then the Tenjin Festival
next month." That would be on 24-25 July; it was June 14 today. Nodoka
stood up and turned towards the door, cradling her weapon like a newborn
child.
     "I will personally see to security in this matter. Both in the area
of preventing leaks, and in defense, if it comes to that," she said as the
went.
     Genma nodded nervously. "W-when should we tell--"
     "Tonight, as soon as they come home."


                             *    *    *    *


     The sound of Ranma's footsteps arrived in the dojo long before he
pounded up the stairs. One whole side of his face was a vaguely
hand-shaped red welt, and his favorite Chinese-style shirt was torn down
one sleeve. His fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly.
     "Tadaima," he grumbled as he entered.
     "Is that you, Ran-chan?" came his mother's cheery voice from the
kitchen.
     "Hai, okaa-sama." He was headed for the stairs.
     "Go to the living room and wait there, my son. Your father, Mr. Soun
and I must speak to you and Akane."
     "Yes, mother," muttered Ranma, as a slight burning sensation began in
the pit of his stomach. (What are they planning now?) he wondered. These
"family meetings" almost always seemed to end in one sort of disaster or
another for himself. Such as the time when they all decided to go camping
together. Unbeknownst to him, it was actually a "training trip," and he
nearly wound up drowning in a raging river on the bottom of a steep cliff.
Or the time when they decided that since he was her intended, it was only
fair that Ranma taste-test all of Akane's cuisine. His stomach rumbled
painfully at this.
     (No wonder I feel so sick all the damn time,) he thought. Last month
he had spent three days fevered and delirious from a casserole she'd made.
When he finally regained consciousness, Akane sobbed with joy, but when
she moved to hug him, he'd angrily pushed her away.
     (It's her fault,) he thought, (I bet she's *trying* to poison me.
Nobody's that bad at cooking; not without it being deliberate. She acts so
sweet when she cooks for me, but good lord, the results are always
Chernobyl-esque at best.) A frown creased his face when he remembered his
father, standing there in the doorway he'd thrown open, screaming GET YOUR
ASS DOWN THERE AND EAT THAT THING OR SO HELP ME GOD-- and his mother
behind him, silent, shadowed, a speck of light reflecting off of the bare
katana in her hands.
     (Bitch,) thought Ranma as he sat down. (I bet you wouldn't have given
a rat's ass weather it had killed me or not; you'd as soon have done the
same if I'd refused. And that gutless slug knows that if he hadn't had you
behind him, I'd have told him to go to Hell and be done with it.)
     Akane walked through the door just then, lips a thin white line, eyes
glistening. Her clothes were scuffed and dirty, her school-bag hanging
precariously by one handle. She didn't even look at Ranma as she headed
straight for the stairs.
     "We're supposed to wait here," he said. "Our parents want to announce
something." At this she stopped, turned stiffly around, and plopped down
on the far end of the table, away from him.
     Their parents arrived in short order, filing in from the kitchen.
They had been waiting there with Nabiki, who was home sick that day, and
Kasumi.
     (Whatever it is they're planning, Akane's sisters know about it now,
and it's got something to do with us,) thought Ranma, suddenly very
attentive. He could tell by the way Nabiki wouldn't look at either of
them, and by the pale nervousness Kasumi's smile tried to hide.
     "Sit next to Ranma, Akane," said Soun.
     She didn't move.
     "Please, Akane," said Soun, a quiver coming into his voice. (Oh-oh,
here come the waterworks,) thought Ranma, disgusted.
     "Akane-chan," said Nodoka. Everyone froze.
     "Dear, perhaps it would be best if you did as your father says," she
chirped. Her smile was broad, and the light of the dying day bounced off
of her perfect teeth like strobes.
     Akane still didn't move.
     "Now, please." Just a hair less chirpy.
     Akane gave her a leisurely, sidelong glance, and then, with seemingly
infinite slowness, stood up, walked around the table, and sat next to
Ranma. He had to restrain himself from heaving a sigh of relief.
     "Hai," said Nodoka when everyone had been seated. "Minasan, Genma,
Soun and I have an announcement to make." She indicated her husband.
"Darling?"
     He cleared his throat. "Ranma, Akane; we as your parents have decided
that your period of courtship has gone on long enough, and, as you are
near the age of majority and will soon be leaving our home and authority,
it is time for you to be married forthwith. Accordingly, we have set a
date of July 24th, the start of the Tenjin Festival in Osaka, where you
shall also begin your honeymoon."
     Such a simple sentence. Such enormous effects. Ranma fancied that he
could almost hear his face drain of all color as he sat there. He glanced
at Akane, mouth agape and her pupils tiny dots in the center of her eyes.
Then their voices were a tangle of protests.
     "Married?!" she gasped. "B-but wait, why now?!--"
     "--not ready for something like that--"
     "--insane--"
     "--need to get into University first--"
     "--to college, not be a housewife--"
     "I don't recall asking for opinions," said Genma with a smile. "The
decision is made."
     "For you, maybe," Ranma shot back, "but I'm not marrying anybody
until I'm damn good and ready, and that's not gonna be until after I've
graduated from Todai and gotten a decent job."
     "Oh, and what makes you think you could ever get into Tokyo
University, Ranma?" sneered Genma. "You think they'd take someone like
you? With your grades?"
     "And just what's wrong with my grades? The last two semesters I've
gotten straight A's in all subjects, no thanks to you."
     "And your training has suffered from it!" Genma raised his voice. "A
true martial artist has no need of such things!"
     "Wrong, Mr. Saotome," said Akane quietly. "A true martial artist must
learn to hone his brain as well as his body to optimal performance. It
does no good to become an ignorant musclehead." Though her gaze held
steady on her hands, Genma flushed at this last remark.
     "That's right," said Ranma. "Akane and I both plan to attend Tokyo
University next year, and after that, we will make our own future. Next
month is too soon for us to marry."
     "Perhaps you didn't hear me," Genma rumbled ominously. "I said, the
decision is made."
     "I--"
     "THE DECISION IS MADE!! NOT ANOTHER WORD!!" he screamed.
     "AND FUCK YOU IN HELL, OLD FART!! I WILL NOT MARRY ANYONE UNTIL I'M
READY, GODDAMN YOU!!!" Ranma was on his feet now.
     "Enough fighting for one day, please," said Akane, holding up a hand.
"Let's try to discuss this--"
     "THERE IS NOTHING TO DISCUSS!!" roared Genma.
     "STOP SHOUTING AT US, ASSWIPE!!" screamed Ranma.
     "Ranma, sit down! THIS INSTANT!" said Nodoka.
     "I am NOT marrying anybody until I'm ready!" said Ranma. "Damn you
all, it's my life!"
     The katana was at his throat very suddenly.
     "Ranma!" gasped Kasumi, and then covered her eyes.
     Ranma felt very cold all over as he looked into the face of his
mother. She had seemingly moved like the wind, from a sitting lotus
position to a standing forward thrust, leaning over the low table, one arm
extended, in the space of less then a heartbeat. Her face was a flat, iron
mask, with no emotion in it whatsoever.
     A trickle of sweat ran down the center of his spine, and he could
feel it's every movement.
     "Sit down, boy. Right now," she whispered.
     His eyes traced the line of the sword's length from her hand to his
neck and back again. His mouth dry as an Arabian desert, he slowly resumed
a sitting position.
     "First of all, boy," she said, "you will apologize to your father,
myself and Mr. Tendou for your outburst. NOW, boy."
     Out of the corner of one eye, he could see Kasumi staring at him,
pale, eyes full of a strange pleading. He wondered what she was thinking
until the tip of the katana dug ever so slightly deeper into his neck, and
a warm trickle ran into his shirt.
     "I will not ask again, Ranma."
     "I--I apologize."
     "Better then that, boy." Her voice was as a wind off of an Arctic
glacier.
     "I--I apologize for my outburst. . . everyone," he ground out.
     "And especially to your father."
     "A-and especially to you, father," he said. Like a rodent hypnotized
by a cobra, could not unlock his gaze from hers. She seemed to be staring
into his very soul, and simultaneously filling it with acidic, dirty
water. His cheeks burned.
     "Boy," she continued, "let me make this very clear to you. It is not
your life, it is ours, to do with as we see fit, as it is we--your father
and I--who have brought you into this world, and so have the right and
power to take you out of it again. And we will, boy, if you ever once more
speak to us in such an insolent manner. From now on, you will speak only
when spoken to, and with only the utmost respect. Now is that clear? Boy?"
     "Yes," he said.
     "Yes, WHAT?!" snarled Genma.
     "Yes, honored mother and father." His gaze was still held by hers.
     "Next, you WILL swear, on your very life, soul and honor that at the
start of the next Tenjin Festival, you will take Tendou Akane as your
bride, and you will not resist this or try to escape from it in any way,"
she stated. "Repeat it, boy."
     He glanced sidelong again at Kasumi, and it appeared for a moment as
though there was something strange about her face, something vaguely
unsettling. It took him a moment before he realized what it was. She
caught his gaze, and turned away, the tears rolling down into the top of
her blouse.
     He quietly but clearly mumbled the words.
     "Now go to your room," said Nodoka, "and don't you ever make me do
this to you again. Boy." Though he saw the slap coming and tried to roll
with it, she compensated, and the sound seemed to reverberate forever in
his ears, even as he trudged upstairs to his chambers.


                             *    *    *    *


     Outside, the sky was a pleasant summer overcast, a thin gray haze
very high up which would last only hours and yield no rain. The breeze
moving the leaves upon the trees was warm and slightly humid, thus Akane
kept her window open.
     She was sitting on the edge of her bed, staring off into the
distance. She had awoken only an hour ago, washed and dressed, but
couldn't bring herself to descend the stairs just yet. (I'll wait till
Kasumi calls breakfast,) she thought.
     She leaned back on the bed and closed her eyes. The quilt she lay
upon had been designed by her mother, long since deceased; and served
during these hot summer months only as a day covering. It hadn't been used
last night while she tossed for hours before drifting off into a tormented
sleep. The nightmares which twice harried her awake, sweat-soaked and
stifling a scream, were gone now, but the oily residue of fear they'd left
behind remained.
     The sword flashing, the rich scarlet blood. . .she closed her eyes
momentarily and shuddered, reached out with one hand, grabbed her pillow
and hugged it.
     (He killed her in one of them, I remember that much,) thought Akane
with a frown. (Or maybe both; It's hard to recall. . .)
     She slammed her balled-up fist on the mattress with a exclamation of
disgust.
     "I hope that's not because of me," said Kasumi as she came into the
room. Akane sat up.
     "Onee-chan," she said, smiling ruefully. "Ohayoo."
     "Ohayoo," her sister returned the greeting, then sat down in the desk
chair across from her. "Breakfast won't be for a few minutes yet, Akane. I
wanted to talk to you. I. . .was just wondering how you were doing." Her
eyes flashed down at the floor for just a second. "Have you spoke to Ranma
yet about the wedding?"
     A sigh. "No, I haven't." She flopped back down onto the bed. "I'll go
see him this afternoon. Heh, or maybe I'll just have Nodoka crack her whip
and he'll come runnin' to me."
     Kasumi stared at her. "Really."
     "Just once! Just once I'd like--ah, forget it."
     "Like what, Akane?" asked Kasumi softly. "You don't think she was
right to do what she did yesterday?"
     "Don't you?" asked Akane. "I don't know about you, onee-chan, but
I've long been tired of Ranma's rudeness and insensitivity and think it's
about time someone put him in his place."
     "With a sword?"
     She shrugged. "It worked, didn't it? Given Ranma's proficiency in the
martial arts, I'd say it was a pretty even match. Besides, how can you
defend him, given the way he's treated me these past several weeks? He's
been even more of a pig then usual!"
     ". . . I noticed yesterday afternoon that your cloths were looking
somewhat ragged when you came in," ventured Kasumi.
     "We got in a fight on the way home," stated Akane evenly. "He threw
me into a gutter, Kasumi."
     Suddenly she shot up off the bed and began to pace the room. "That's
after he told me that I'm a 'pathetic excuse for a martial artist!' He
desperately needs to be taught some humility, or at least some common
courtesy."
     "True," said her sister. "Very true, in fact; only. . .well,
sometimes, Akane, I think he's not really mad at you. He's had a pretty
screwed up life, thus far, and though he tries not to show it too much I
believe that it's starting to get to him."
     "Oh, come on!" scoffed Akane. "Is his life any more messed up then
his father's who turns into a panda bear, or Shampoo's, who turns into a
cat? Or Mousse, who's metamorphosis is that of a duck, fachrissake?"
     (And leave us not forget poor Hibiki "P-chan" Ryouga,) thought
Nabiki, listening at the door. (The ´10,000 per month I'm getting from him
to keep his secret from sis isn't much, but it pads my account nicely.)
     "All that happens to him is that he transforms into a beautiful
girl." continued Akane. "What the hell is so wrong with that?"
     "To someone as macho as he is, it's a horror beyond all ken," replied
Kasumi. "Akane, you have to make an effort to understand him, to see
things through his eyes for a change. You're soon going to be his bride--"
She stopped when she saw a shudder run through her sibling's body at the
words. She frowned.
     "Akane," she began again, "there are some things you are going to
have to face up to, and quickly. You and Ranma are betrothed, and in
little more then a month you will be man and wife. Forever, Akane. 'Till
death do you part. That's a very serious responsibility and you'd better
start looking at it that way."
     "Well, supposing I just don't want to marry a rude, insensitive
hentai perv-"
     "Akane!" Kasumi shouted. "Enough!"
     "Fine, fine," snapped Akane. "I'll fuckin' marry the bastard!" A
bitter laugh. "After all, it's not like I have a choice or anything,
right?! It's not as though I'm competent to pick my own fuckin' husband in
my own good time! Or not marry at all if I so decide?! Yeah, I guess when
all is said and done, I'm only a *woman.*" She sat back down on the bed.
     Kasumi stared silently at her sister for a long time. Then she slowly
stood up, and walked towards her until she was standing directly in front
of her, and bent down until their faces were just centimeters apart. Akane
met her gaze balefully.
     "Imouto-chan," said Kasumi quietly, "in this matter, you have two
choices. One, you can deal with this situation as an adult and learn to
live with the man who will soon be your husband, learn to be a proper wife
to him. Do that and you will be assured a reasonably happy life.
     "Two, you can continue your present, childish course and be miserable
for the rest of your days--along with your husband, Tendou Akane. Because
rest assured, there is no third course, no escape from this giri save
death." She stood erect again. "I imagine you're smarter then that, Akane.
Please don't disappoint--and dishonor--me." She turned and walked out of
the room. Her sister stared after her unmoving for awhile, then closed her
eyes. In time, Kasumi called her down to breakfast, but she did not hear.


                             *    *    *    *


     Ranma stared out the classroom window, counting the minutes until
recess. Sulu-sensei's voice skittered atop the surface of his
consciousness, droning on about dark matter and cosmic strings. He
couldn't wait to escape the stifling confines of Astronomy 201.
     That Akane did not share this class with him he considered a small
blessing from the heavens. Since last week's announcement, they had barely
passed two words between them, and always managed to avoid each other's
presence when walking to and from school.
     (If this is a preview of how our marriage is gonna be,) he thought,
(I might just as well commit seppuku now and save mo-Nodoka the trouble.)
     The bell rang. He gathered his books, exiting out into the bright
summer sunshine with the other students. Several cast him curious glances.
By now everyone had noticed the frozen silences between himself and Akane;
speculation ran rampant as to it's cause. More serious, they also observed
that he no longer helped her fight her way through the mobs of boys who
threw themselves at her every morning--a change which, more then anything
else, they found truly shocking. Akane had often protested to Ranma that
she "didn't need his help" in defeating the would-be suitors, but this was
the first time that he had ever taken her at her word.
     So every morning this past week he just stood there, impassive,
watching stone-faced while she chopped and kicked her way through the
horde of horny jocks and Jackie Chan wanna-bees. The first day had been
quite a surprise--she was very nearly overwhelmed, so used was she to
Ranma's help in the "daily workout." Four days later she was holding her
own and already showing signs of improvement.
     (She'll never admit it, but she's been incorporating some of my
techniques,) thought Ranma as he stepped out onto the school yard.
(Ryouga's, too, and I think I even saw a bit of Shampoo in there.) A
thought struck him suddenly. (Jeezus, has she been studying us?)
     Her fighting style had become much more sophisticated lately, and he
was finding it increasingly difficult to defeat her, either in his male or
female form.
     (Has she been sparing with Ryouga?) Before the announcement, she'd
been spending a lot of time with him--possibly part of the reason their
parents had thought it best to get them married off right away. (That
would explain--well, speak of the devil.)
     Ryouga stood there before him, arms folded, lips turned up in a smile
which reveled his fangs. Beside him was Kunou.
     Everyone else was already clearing the area.
     Ranma's grin matched his opponent's. Ever since the incident last
week with Nodoka--afterward he had refused in his mind to refer to her has
his mother--he had been holding himself in check, trying very hard to keep
a tight reign on the rage and humiliation which festered inside him. But
he had also been quietly looking for someone upon whom to expend it, Kunou
and Ryouga having been gone for the last several days.
     (Perfect,) he thought as he approached them. (Just perfect.)
     "Hello, pigboy," said Ranma jovially. "Wallow in any good cesspools
lately? Or did the other swine boot you out?"
     "Just the sort of remarks I would expect from a dirtbag such as
yourself," replied Ryouga, turning one shade redder. "But I suppose I
should be thankful for your rudeness, considering that it is the very
thing which is driving Akane into MY arms."
     "Really?" asked Ranma. "Well, porky, that's not what I heard. 'Sides,
just how long do you suppose she would like you if she ever discovered
your true nature?" His grin grew wider as he saw that strike home. "But of
course," he shrugged, "I guess that it's only. . .appropriate. After all,
your porcine form is merely a more accurate reflection of your soul, isn't
it, Ryo-kun?"
     A strangled noise emerged from deep in the other boy's throat.
     Kunou said, "'Tis only to be expected that an infidel such as you
would make light of the misfortunes of others. But the great Tatewaki will
not bear your insolence, whelp. I demand that you admit the obvious
concerning Akane."
     "Oh? And what would that be?" asked Ranma.
     "That she does not love you and never will, and that I, Tatewaki
Kunou, the Blue Thunder of Furinkan High, am and always will be her one
true paramour."
     "Oh, I don't think so, tall, dark and incredibly dense. After all,
from what I understand, Akane isn't the kind of girl who normally dates
outside of her species."
     "FOUL TOAD FROM THE BLACKEST DEPTHS OF TARTARUS!!" screamed Kunou,
drawing his bokken. "PREPARE TO MEET THY FATE!!"
     Kunou had his weapon out and ready within two seconds. Ranma's right
foot was planted in his face within one. Pushing off, he flipped over
twice in midair before landing on his feet five meters away.
     Ryouga was already at apogee, beginning his descent towards him.
Ranma leaped up to meet him, unleashed a flurry of kicks, and alighted
with the grace of a ballerina. Ryouga touched down just as easily, despite
the punishment his opponent had dished out. He charged Ranma at blinding
speed; the other boy felt the blows of his umbrella before he could even
see them. In response, Ranma savagely kneed Ryouga in the groin, then
kicked his legs out from under him. Instead of falling, Ryouga used the
momentum to spin and landed back on his feet just to Ranma's right. Ranma
ducked the swing of Ryouga's weapon, kicked and felt a satisfying crunch
as his heel impacted with his nose.
     "THERE, PIGBOY, HOWYA LIKE THAT?!!" he screamed. "NOW YA GOT A SNOUT
IN BOTH YOUR FORMS!!"
     "URUSEI, RANMA SCUM!!" yelled Ryouga, stabbing again. "HAVE YOU NO
HONOR AT ALL?!!"
     He swung, and Ranma shrieked as the blow landed heavily upon his
upper arm, spinning him halfway around. Then his lungs exploded as one of
Ryouga's steel tipped Doc Martins got up close and personal with his
stomach. He fell back, saw stars as Kunou's bokken connected with the side
of his head, backflipped twice and assumed the defensive stance.
     "NOW, MISCREANT! THOU WILT KNEEL TO THY BETTER!!" The air whistled as
Kunou's weapon whipped through it. Ranma was three meters above it by the
time it completed it's arc; his foot shot out and Kunou's head snapped
back and forth rapidly. Ranma spun, kicked, spun, kicked, spun, kicked and
finally knocked his enemy twenty five meters back into a nearby retaining
wall. It shattered and collapsed with a roar.
     For a moment, Ranma just stood there, breathing heavily. Some among
the crowd thought that perhaps he might be winded. Then he turned towards
Ryouga, and his eyes glittered.
     "Come to me, Pigboy," he whispered. "Come and get some. . ." Ryouga
leapt.
     He landed just in front of Ranma and swung his umbrella. Ranma
ducked, then kicked. The blow landed on Ryouga's forearm. He yelled and
pulled back; Ranma took the opportunity, whirled around and landed a
flurry of strikes upon Ryouga's face and upper body. Then he did something
that was for him very unusual: he grabbed Ryouga's other arm--the one not
holding the umbrella--and threw him. Hard. Ryouga impacted solidly against
the ancient cherry blossom tree standing off in one corner of the yard;
petals and loose branches rained upon the ground. Ranma was on him before
he could get up, smashing him over and over again in the head.
     "YOU'RE NOTHING!! DO YOU HEAR ME, PIG?!! NOTHING!! NOTHING!!!" He
sounded absolutely hysterical.
     "RANMA!!" He heard her voice mere seconds before the foot buried
itself square in his back. He jackknifed and collapsed into the trunk of
the tree, causing yet another shower of delicate pink. When he regained
consciousness seconds later, the first thing his eyes focused upon was
Akane, cradling Ryouga's head in her arms.
     It was covered in blood.
     "911!!" she screamed. "NOW!!" Someone ran off.
     When she saw that Ranma was awake, she very gently lay Ryouga's head
down, got up, and walked over to him. The next thing he knew, there was a
steel vise around his throat and he was staring straight into the eyes of
Satan's girlfriend. And she had a bad case of PMS.
     "Ranma, if he dies," she whispered softly, "I swear by my mother's
soul that I will rip your putrid heart out and feed it to P-chan.
Understand? Honey?" He moved his head up and down.
     "Good." She dropped him.
     (Bitch,) he thought, rubbing his throat. (And I was right, she *has*
been practicing. That grip. . .)


                             *    *    *    *


     It looked worse then it was.
     Nothing bleeds like a head wound, weather serious or not; in Ryouga's
case it was mostly from the broken nose he had suffered at Ranma's hands.
He was taken first to the school infirmary and then to Dr. Tofu's; the
latter patched him up and sent him home in a taxi. After school let out,
Ranma and Akane went back to the dojo silently, and separately.
     (Baka,) she thought angrily as she went. (I saw what happened; he
deliberately provoked that fight. What the hell is the matter with him?)
She thought back to what things had been like even a few short months ago,
when he was still halfway civil to her the balance of the time. Now. . .
She shook her head, and then remembered Kasumi's words of just a week ago,
about duty and giri and honor. Anger flared up anew within her.
     (Stupid twat, what the hell does she know about honor?) she fumed.
(Busu hole doesn't give a damn about me; all she ever thinks about is her
fuckin' housework. I bet if Ranma drank and beat me they still wouldn't
care; they'd just give me a load of FUKKIN' CRAP ABOUT MY OBLIGATIONS
AND--)
     She stopped suddenly, leaned against a light pole and shut her eyes,
blood roaring in her head. The ever-present sea of people ebbed and flowed
around her; the sounds of city traffic seemed very far away. Presently her
breathing slowed; her fists unclenched and her heart stopped thumping in
her chest. (Calm,) she thought, (calm. Reject the anger, find your center
again. There.)
     A detached part of her looked on in bemusement, shocked at the rage
that had washed over her like a polluted wave.
     (Such anger, such--no, not anger; that was *hatred*, raw, primal,
unadulterated.) Despair welled up. (Gods, Ranma,) she wondered, (did we
ever really love each other? Did you ever even like me? Though in the
beginning you wanted Nabiki rather then me, I thought I felt something
from you at times--a whisper, a hint of affection. You always fought for
me, and couldn't stand it when other boys so much as looked at me--)
     --MY FIANCƒE--
     (--hate Ryouga so for the attentions he gives me--)
     --MY FIANCƒE--KILL YOU--
     (--and those times when I was kidnapped, you rescued me.If you do not
love me--)
     --AKANE IS MY FIANCƒE!! TOUCH HER AND I'LL KILL YOU--
     (--then why do you protect me? Do you regard me as nothing more then
a possession, a prize to be won?) She sighed, ran trembling fingers
through her short black hair. It was becoming longer now; soon she'd have
to cut it again.
     (Oh, Ranma, what has happened to you lately?) lamented Akane. (You've
become cruel and vicious these last few months, even before this horrible
wedding idea. And so withdrawn. . .Ranma, let me inside. Talk to me.
     (I've been angry far too much lately. . .sometimes I think I've
forgotten what it's like to smile. . .)
     She turned a corner and stepped onto the dojo grounds. Despite the
brightness of the day, the house looked somehow dark and ominous now, the
windows like the eyes of a malevolent painting following her every move.
     "Tadaima," Akane called out as she entered.
     "Youkoso," replied Kasumi's voice from the kitchen. Akane walked over
to the coffee table, grabbed the telescreen remote and hit POWER.
     The ebony plaque hanging on the opposite wall was 30 centimeters
across and one thick; the latest thing from Devi Electric out of India and
a birthday gift to her father from Nabiki. Liquid-crystal screen;
all-fiber optic innards made at the New Kanpur Lunar plant, and a 10 GB
built-in computer that ran at 15 Ghz.
     (Must've set her back a pretty penny,) thought Akane as the picture
resolved itself, (not that she couldn't afford it. Hmm, just talking heads
on this channel.) A finger glided over a touchpad and she got
anime--"Bishojo Senshi Urotsukuyatsura." Then sports, a shopping channel,
Apache rain dance from out of Arizona; game shows, politics--news! Usually
not that interesting, but the U.S.-Chinese standoff over that big
nickel/iron meteorite in crater Copernicus was heating up, and there were
lots of magnificent views of Luna. Not to mention the battlewagons hanging
in orbit over the contested moonscape.
     (Beautiful,) she thought, (like giant deadly butterflies.) The guns
and heat dispersors she imagined as delicate wings, while the blue/black
segmented bodies of the American ships looked positively insectoid.
     The Chinese vessels were no less in size, and more gaudily painted,
with dragons and ram horns capering over their surfaces.
     The announcer droned on about the breakdown of negotiations at the
UN, and the arrival on the scene of American reinforcements. He also
mentioned in passing the opening of the first joint Sino-Japanese fiber
optic component plant in earth orbit. One of the concerns involved was
called Trans-Global Kurobara, Inc. She frowned.
     Ranma arrived. "Tadaima," he said, heading for the practice room.
     "Hi, Ranma," said Akane. "Umm. . .enjoy your lunch?"
     "Yeah, so?" grumbled Ranma. "What's the matter, ticked off because
Kasumi can cook better then you?"
     "I made that lunch, Ranma sweet, not Kasumi."
     He turned and stared. "What?"
     "You heard me."
     "I don't believe you."
     "It's true," said Kasumi, coming into the room with a mixing bowl.
With wooden spoon in one hand she stirred the contents. "She worked on it
last evening while I watched over her. She's really been coming along in
the culinary arts these past few weeks."
     "That's only 'cause of you, onee-chan," said Akane, beaming. "Without
your tutorial I'd never have improved."
     "You probably haven't," said Ranma. "Your cooking is still shit,
Akane, and I'll likely die of delayed-action food poisoning later toni--"
     With one fluid motion Akane leapt to her feet and grabbed the bowl
from Kasumi's hands. With her right hand she brutally yanked his head back
by the hair; the other was busy stuffing the contents of the basin
headlong down his open mouth.
     "SO YOU THINK MY CUISINE IS SHIT, RANMA?!" She screamed. "WELL, TRY
SOME OF THIS, AFTER ALL, IT'S KASUMI'S SO IT CAN'T HURT YOU, RIGHT?!! COME
ON, ASSHOLE, EAT IT!! EAT IT, YOU ROTTEN SONUVABITCH, EAT IT!! EAT IT!!"
     "Gpffhj, grvuhmf!" Ranma choked and gagged, struggling wildly.
"Mijmwff!"
     "Akane, NO!" shouted Kasumi, eyes wide. "Stop it!"
     "--low down, vicious, hentai--"
     "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!!" All three of them looked up to see Nodoka
standing in the alcove, her ever-present sword on her back.
     "Akane," she commanded, "let go of him. NOW!"
     "Fine," she spat. He hit the floor with a thud, but was back on his
feet in seconds, face scarlet. His mother's presence was the only thing
that kept him from leaping at Akane on the spot.
     "Young lady," said Nodoka, "go to your room."
     "He started i--" Akane began.
     "I DID NOT ASK WHO STARTED IT, AKANE." She visibly struggled to
master herself. "This kind of unladylike behavior on your part is exactly
why you and my son have such problems. I will discuss it with you later.
Now, go to your room."
     "I am not the reason--"
     "AKANE!"
     A shimmering red haze filled Akane's vision. Fists clenched, she
heard herself scream, "WELL, IF YOU HAD JUST RAISED YOUR ROTTEN, MALIGNANT
EXCUSE FOR A SON BETTER, THEN PERHAPS--"
     A painful grip around her arm. Suddenly the room was spinning, and
she found herself staring into the face of her father.
     "DIDN'T NODOKA JUST TELL YOU TO GO TO YOUR ROOM?!" he shouted.
     "I--yes, but--" she stammered.
     "THEN DO IT!!!"
     She stared at him silently for a moment, mouth open in wonder. Then
she saw the fear behind his eyes, and whatever love and respect she had
ever had for him shriveled and died in one awful instant.
     "Yes, father," she hissed, a hideous grimace of a smile plastered on
her face. (Coward,) she thought, trembling ever so slightly. Still
smiling, she turned, resisting the near-overpowering urge to smash a lamp
or a chair over his head, and silently padded up the stairs.
     (Gutless, repulsive coward. . .)


                             *    *    *    *


     That which the Tendou and Saotome parents feared most happened the
very next day.
     Ranma and Akane were walking to school, about a block apart. Ranma
was ahead.
     (She's dead,) he thought, (The next time she touches me, she's dead.
Busu.) Subconsciously he was clenching and unclenching his fists,giving
the handle of his schoolbag quite a workout. (Hate you. Hate you, Akane.)
He closed his eyes suddenly for a moment, and let out a sigh of despair.
     (And what's worse is, I was right about the food poisoning,) he
thought. It had hit him later that evening, with massive cramps that
shredded his innards. In minutes he'd been reduced to a screaming frenzy
wallowing in his own vomit; only Dr. Tofu's timely arrival with a stomach
pump and the latest antibiotics had saved him. That night his dreams were
nightmares sent from H.R. Giger. Today he was reasonably well, except for
the pounding headache, the ringing in his ears and the burning sensation
whenever he urinated.
     (Damn her,) he thought. (Damn her and Nodoka and Dad and Soun and
everybody.) Closing his eyes, he breathed shallowly through his mouth,
forcing his leaden feet forward one at a time. He couldn't wait to get to
class and sit down.
     (Just keep going. . .)
     He looked up, and stopped suddenly. Ukyou was standing in the middle
of the wobbling sidewalk.
     "Ranma," she said. Then she smiled, and took a step forward.
     "So, Ranma," she continued, "when's the funeral?"
     Ranma's eyes widened slightly. "What?"
     "The funeral. Someone must've died, right?" said Ukyou. "After all,
that's the only reason I can think of that your parents would place such a
big order with FCI Flower ServiceŞ."
     "Umm. . ." (Damn, how the hell did she know?) he wondered.
     She was still coming towards him, ever so slowly.
     "Of course, it must have been someone your folks are ashamed of,
since the order was placed in secret. Unless. . .it's for something else?
Like maybe, a wedding? Either way, it cost me a lot to get the kid in the
greenhouse to spill the who's and the where's. Good thing I've left
standing requests in every flower shop in Nerima to alert me whenever the
Tendou's or Saotome's order large arrangements, ne?" Their faces were
centimeters apart now.
     Akane approached. "Uu-chan!" She smiled, "ohayoo--"
     "Shut up, Akane," snapped Ranma.
     She looked at him, nodded and walked on, thinking, (that's it, it's
over. Whatever he was before, Ranma is now absolutely become Mr.
Wrong. . .and our parents are trying to shackle me to him forever.) A
momentary surge of panic hit her. (I can't let--)
     "--this happen, Ranma," said Ukyou calmly. "You don't love her; you
and I both know that. Why are you doing this?"
     "Why is it," asked Ranma, "that put near everyone and his dog insists
on telling me what I know, where to go and what to do with my life?" He
walked around Ukyou and continued down the street. "I have to get to
school, now, Ukyou. I'll come by your place later."
     "It's your parents, isn't it?" she asked. Ranma stopped for a moment,
then continued on.
     "Why are you letting them do this to you? Don't you care?" He kept
going. She sighed, and turned away.
     (It *is* them,) she thought, (them, and Akane. I am sorry, Ranma-kun,
but she is as much to blame as your parents. A pause. And if our love
means anything at all, I cannot allow this to happen. Whatever the
cost. . .)
     Afternoon.
     (Thank the kami nothing happened today,) thought Akane. (Just the
usual; Kunou making stupid passes at me, etc. I'll be glad when I get to
Ryouga's place.) The back yard of the Hibiki dojo was the favored site of
their practice matches; it was also the only location that Ryouga could
seem to find with some degree of regularity. They had been working out
together for the past four months.
     (Hopefully,) she thought, (he'll be there on time today--)
     She heard, no, felt the blade approaching almost before she
consciously knew it. From a low speed walk she leaped straight up eight
meters, turned a single loop and alighted on the top of a phone pole. She
glanced at where she'd been, started in shock--
     Imbedded in the concrete--(a--a spatula?!) her mind gasped. (Wh-but
that means--)
     --looked back up, and saw--
     "Ukyou!" she shouted.
     The other woman landed gracefully right next to her thrown blade.
There were five more fanned in her right hand, and the giant one, as
usual, strapped to her back. Her eyes were as burning coals.
     "Tendou Akane! I challenge you!" she spoke in a voice like thunder.
     "W-what?!"
     "You heard me!" said Ukyou. "This has gone on long enough. I know
what you and your parents are planning, and I won't let it happen! Ranma
loves ME, not you, not any of the others and I will fight you for him!
Face me if you have the courage!"
     "Oh, for. . ." Akane snorted in disgust, then almost laughed out
loud. Here she was, about to be chained to a man she was now convinced was
not fit to eat her tampons, and Ukyou wanted to fight her for him!
     (Well, far be it from me to deny Uu-chan her lifelong desire,) she
thought with a grin.
     "O.K., he's yours."
     "What?!" Ukyou was taken aback.
     "I said, he's yours," repeated Akane, leaping down from the phone
pole to alight in front of her. "You can have him. I-I don't want him,
Ukyou; our parents are trying to force us to marry later this month but I
don't want to go along with it. So grab him if you like, but if you tell
our parents I agreed to this I'll deny it--I don't want his psycho mother
coming after me."
     "Trying to have it both ways, eh, Akane-chan?" grinned Ukyou, backing
up to gain throwing distance. "Sorry, but that won't work. I want them all
to hear your own lips renounce him, in front of everyone."
     "No can do, Uu-chan," said Akane, entering a fighting stance, "that's
suicide. Look, why don't you two just get together one night and elope? No
one will be the wiser until you're both gone." (Does he love her?) she
wondered. (He has always been close to her, despite the fact that she
tried to kill him when first she showed up. And now she wants to marry
him.)
     Ukyou's brows knitted. "Elope?" she whispered. "Hmmm, I hadn't
thought of that. Still and all, I'll need you to tell him to his face how
you really feel. Or have you already?"
     Akane frowned and said, "He knows my thoughts on the subject."
     ". . .Does he now. . .?" She lowered her throwing arm, ever so
slightly.
     "HIS THOUGHTS MATTER NOT, GODDESS OF MY HEART!" screamed the corner
mail box just to Ukyou's right. "ONLY MY UNDYING LOVE FOR YOU DOES!!"
Startled, she turned just as it leaped from it's moorings; hands appeared
from nowhere out of it's sides to grip her around the waist. A head popped
out of the mail slot; female by appearance; with ash-blonde hair tied in a
pony tail and wide blue eyes staring up at her. "DAAAARLING!" s/he cooed.
     "Tsubasa!" shrieked Ukyou. "GET--OFF--OF--ME!!" Arms pinwheeling, the
balance upset by the transvestite's hold upon her vanished completely and
she fell, landing square upon the "mailbox" with a crunch of cardboard.
They flailed and struggled, with Tsubasa pinned underneath.
     "Ooh, sugar blossom," s/he said, "not here in the street! Let's go
back to my place!"
     "YOUR PLACE IS GONNA BE ON NEPTUNE AS SOON AS I CAN STAND!!" shouted
Ukyou. A quick glance up the street told her that Akane had already fled.
     (Damnit,) she cursed. (This isn't over, Tendou. If you are telling
the truth about yourself and Ranma, I will not harm you. But
otherwise. . .)
     Akane was halfway home before she stopped running. When she saw that
no one was following her, she went the rest of the way to the Dojo at a
leisurely pace.
     (Well, the okonomiyaki has certainly hit the fan now,) she thought as
she went inside. (Ukyou's not stupid, we--I mean, *they* should have known
better then to think that they could hide something like this from her.
And if Ukyou found out just today, then Cologne and Shampoo probably knew
last week, which means that we're already *manaita no ue no koi*--carp on
the cutting board, doomed.) She took the stairs two at a time, entered her
room and tossed the schoolbag onto her bed. (They've likely been planning
their attack for days now. It's only a matter of time.)
     As if on cue, there came an unearthly howl from outside.
     "RAAAAAANNNNNMMAAAAAAAA!!"
     (Here we go,) she thought, heading for the door. Then she stopped
suddenly, turned around and sat down at her desk.
     (Screw it, this is his fight, not mine,) she realized. (Why should I
ride to his friggin' rescue? He hasn't helped me at school, when those
perverts attack every morning.)
     Out in the yard, Nabiki stood in the entrance of the front gate,
staring at Tsubasa. The transvestite warrior was soaking wet, having
landed in the Dojo's main fountain. Akane recognized his/her voice, and
ruminated that Ukyou's kick must have sent him/her on a nearly straight up
and down trajectory instead of the usual parabolic curve which would have
put him/her (it,) thought Akane maliciously into orbit. S/he wailed again.
     "WHERE IS RAAAANNMMAAA?!"
     "Oh, do shut up," said Nabiki, walking past him/her. "I haven't the
foggiest clue--I assume he's still on his way home--and in any case, why
do you want to see him?"
     "He and your rotten sister have plans to elope with my one true love
Ukyou!" s/he proclaimed. Ukyou's punt and the subsequent impact in the
pool had left him/her somewhat groggy, and s/he didn't have all the facts
quite straight in his/her head just yet. Nabiki cocked an eyebrow,
interested.
     (Do I smell money? Sure I do,) she thought. Who knew who would pay
what for such info, but rest assured, someone would.
     "Tell me more," she said.
     (Crap,) thought Akane, running to the window. (If that little freak's
heard what I'd told Uu-chan. . .) Then suddenly she remembered something.
She flung open the shutters.
     "Tsubasa!" she called. He/she/it looked up at her, eyes squinting.
"Ranma is, uh, at Ukyou's!" The okonomiyaki restaurant that she owned. "He
said this morning he'd meet her there after school!"
     "AH HA!!" Tsubasa jumped eleven meters off of the ground to land on a
nearby rooftop. Leaping from house to house, s/he shouted, "I'M COMING,
DARLING UKYOU!!" as s/he disappeared from sight.
     (*Whew!*) thought Akane. (Well, that oughta keep the little geekwad
busy for awhile. And Tsubasa as well.) She noticed Nabiki staring up at
her, a quizzical look on her face, and thought, (figure it out on your
own, golddigger) as she shut the windows.


                             *    *    *    *


     When Ranma arrived back home late that afternoon, he was a she.
Ranma-chan spared Akane one sour glance and went straight to her room. Her
clothes were torn and her face, dirty. Akane smiled, then went back out to
the practice space.
     In the ofuro, Ranma sighed contentedly as the hot water caressed her,
changing her back into his usual sex.
     (Thank god for the furnace,) he thought, eyes closed. (And it's nice
of Kasumi to keep a pot of warm water on the stove for me in case of
emergencies, especially as she's so busy with the)--he winced--(wedding
preparations. Shimatta, how I hate these impromptu transformations.)
Reluctantly his mind ran back over the afternoon's events.
     (Damn Tsubasa, anyway,) he grumbled. (I was just about to chow down,
too, when he--she--whatever it is came through the ceiling.) Since the
incident with Akane yesterday, Dr. Tofu had ordered that for the next week
Ranma be kept on a liquid diet--preferably one prepared only by Kasumi, or
someone else of her culinary skill. And since "someone else" obviously
meant anybody other then Akane, Ukyou was more then happy to have him
over. (But now I'll have to wait until tomorrow evening.)
     Presently Ranma heard the sounds of dishes being removed from the
cabinet, and the rich aroma of food wafted into the room. His stomach gave
an anticipatory growl. Dinner was almost ready, and the knowledge that he
would be having none of it only made the hunger pangs worse--the tall
glass of protein/vitamin drink that he had just consumed had done nothing
to fill him up.
     (I should have kept my mouth shut,) he flayed himself again,
remembering yesterday. (Or better yet, I should have just told her the
truth after the symptoms showed up, but with a bit more tact--"Akane,
thank you for putting in the time and effort of cooking for me, but you're
cuisine has not improved. However, I'm sure it will if you practice more
with your sister." At least then she wouldn't get mad and beat the crap
out of me.)
     He stood up, grabbed a towel off of the wicker basket and began
drying himself, it's soft fibers caressing him sensuously.
     (Perhaps she'd--we'd--get closer, become friends or something,) he
thought. (Or maybe she'd just slap me and say, "You don't like my food,
then go eat at the Nekkohanten, jerkoff.") He signed, slipped on a fresh
pair of cloths, and went upstairs.
     In his room, the aroma grew stronger and he heard Kasumi call dinner.
He inhaled deeply, laying back on his bedroll.
     Tempura. With buttered rice. It smelled delicious, with just a hint
of seasoning. She'd even made a side dish of lentils, and he was sure he
could detect a whiff of salmon patties, which he hadn't tasted in years.
     (Why her,) he wondered, (why Akane? If only Nabiki had said yes, none
of this would be happening. She's somewhat money-hungry, true, but maybe
that's just a sign of something missing from her life.)
     Suddenly his mind flashed back to the very first day that he'd met
the Tendou's, not so very long ago. The old feelings came flooding in with
an intensity which surprised him. Closing his eyes, he tried to recapture
his initial emotions upon first seeing Akane.
     Her long, raven hair. . .those eyes. . .the fragrance of her skin.
Strong, well-toned body, though still very nicely curved, with the muscle
knitted to her bones like living steel. But. . .she hated him, even then;
Nabiki had told him later how disappointed she'd been that a boy was
arriving to spoil their cozy little paradise. He could sense it, too, the
hostility coming off of her at the very mention of the male sex, though
she'd warmed considerably to his female form before she'd realized that
they were one and the same. Since then, she seemed to have entirely
abandoned the idea of having a social life, and was solely interested only
in her schoolwork and in honing her martial arts skills.
     (Nabiki, however, was another matter entirely,) he mused as he lay
back on his bedroll. She had liked him straight off, according to Kasumi;
and been bitterly disappointed when she'd thought he was actually a girl.
And she was beautiful. Acquisitive, yes, but also bright, friendly and
sweet when she wanted to be. Over the last few years, she had blossomed
into quite a glorious flower of womanhood.
     (A very. . .shapely flower,) he thought, and felt himself grow hard.
But in all the time he had known her, Ranma had never seen Nabiki out on a
date, or show the least bit of interest in the opposite sex. Her obsession
with cash only seems to have accelerated after he had shown up; before
that, Kasumi had said, she was a fairly normal teenager.
     (Still and all,) he wondered, (should I have done what I did? What if
I had asked for Akane's hand instead, how would things have turned out?
Maybe. . .maybe she wouldn't hate me so, maybe. . .)
     His eyes flashed open. (Is *that* why?) he wondered suddenly. (Is it
because I asked for Nabiki's hand instead of hers?! But then that would
mean she's. . .jealous, which in turn implies that somewhere deep down
inside she. . .
     . . .loves. . .
     . . .me. . .)
     (No, no way,) he shook his head at the very idea. (It's absurd; she's
never liked boys and she's never liked me; not once has she ever shown the
slightest hint. . . well. . .)
     The memory of the kiss she'd given him--more then just a peck on the
cheek--after he'd rescued her from the 7 Fukudoujin came to mind. And then
there was the time they'd defeated Prince Touma on Tougenkyou Island,
she'd really seemed to warm to him, then. . .
     A gentile tapping at his window interrupted his thoughts. Slightly
irritated, he glanced over; but the feeling vanished when he recognized
Shampoo. She grinned.
     Ranma got up, opened the window and let her in. She was holding a
food warmer from the Nekkohanten. A quick smooch on the lips; then she
went to the middle of the room and immediately began laying out covered
dishes and cutlery.
     "Shampoo. . ." he stammered, slightly nonplused. "What are you --"
     "Shampoo hear about how husband have no dinner because of nasty
violent girl," she said in her usual broken Japanese, "so Shampoo whip up
something!" She gestured towards the lavish spreadshe had unpacked. "Here,
eat!"
     Ranma eyed the feast with longing, but hesitated. Shampoo frowned.
     "Violent girl lie to husband, make him think Shampoo try poison him,
right?" She bent down, plucked a piece of curried chicken from it's bowl,
and popped it into her mouth. She munched happily, then washed it down
with some of the fruit punch.
     "See?" she said after a moment. "Now, eat!"
     Ranma took a single step forward, and bit his lower lip. Then he felt
his stomach rumble again.
     (Screw it,) he resolved, and dived in.
     He pigged out with gusto, bolting everything like a starving wolf,
utensils flying. Shampoo just sat and watched him, fascinated.
     (Ranma's cute and will make a wonderful husband,) she thought, (but
he *must* work on his table manners.)
     When he finished, Ranma leaned back and let rip a contented burp.
     "Shampoo, you're the best. That was delicious," he said, picking his
teeth.
     (Absolutely he must work on his table manners,) she thought. (Oh,
well, at least he didn't cut the cheese. Yet.) Smiling, she offered a
small white oval.
     "Breath mint?" she asked.
     "Sure," said Ranma, and popped it into his mouth. He sucked a few
times, chewed, swallowed, looked at her and blinked. Once. Twice.
     "Ranma. . .?" she asked slyly.
     Leaping over the remains of the meal, he threw himself headlong into
her arms.
     "Shampoo," he breathed, smothering her face in kisses. Those eyes,
those lips, that hair, that *body;* how could he have ignored her for so
long, who cared at all about martial arts; for now there was only the ache
in his heart, the inferno in his loins and the boiling cauldron in the
center of his brain, all for her, her, her--
     "Ranma," she gasped as he pushed himself down upon her, fumbling at
the zipper on the back of her dress.
     (Foolish husband,) she thought, (dinner *was* drugged, but it would
only take effect in conjunction with the active ingredient in the breath
mint. Now you belong to me.) Gently but firmly she pushed him off of her
and stood up. Once again he took her in his arms, ramming his tongue
between her full lips, savoring the sensation of her mouth. (Her, her,
her--)
     "Ranma," she said breathlessly, pulling away, "follow Shampoo." She
leaped out the window.
     Shampoo lead him over the rooftops, laughing, her purple hair
streaming out behind her like a banner. Ranma persued, silent, intent,
exultant.
     (Shampoo,) he thought, (Oh god Shampoo herherher how I lovewantdesire
you Shampoo herher my one and onlygoddessletmeworshipyouShampoo)
     A wave of dizziness took him momentarily and he almost fell, then he
regained his balance and continued. His erection flopped painfully around
in his pants like a crowbar, and part of him wished he'd worn a codpiece.
     Presently they arrived at the Nekkohanten, entering through the
skylight.
     "Great-grandmother, it work!" exclaimed Shampoo. The tiny but
formidable old crone hopped out of the adjoining room upon her walking
stick and smiled. Mousse, who had been sweeping the floor, looked up and
promptly turned scarlet with rage. As soon as he landed, Ranma had come up
behind Shampoo and begun fondling her breasts. Grinding his groin into her
buttocks, he was dry-humping the woman like a dog in heat, kissing all
down her neck and shoulder.
     "Y-YOU--" The Chinese man flew straight at Ranma, twirling his broom
stick like a baton. Shampoo ducked out of Ranma's grip just long enough to
drop Mousse instantly with a savage kick to the balls. Flying backwards,
he impacted heavily against a cabinet, scattering pots, pans and cutlery
in all directions. He lay there amidst the mess, doubled up, groaning.
     "Stupid Mousse," she spat, stepping over to him. He shrieked as she
got his attention via a kick in the head.
     "Go upstairs get bags, moron. We leaving, at least husband, I and
Great-grandmother. Mousse can rot here for all Shampoo care."
     "Shampoo. . ." Behind his impossibly thick glasses, his eyes implored
her. "Shampoo, darling, what you do to him? What--"
     "NOW, MOUSSE! OR SHAMPOO BEAT MOUSSE INTO HAMBURGER!!"
     His face went bleach white at the rage in her voice. Then, with a low
moan, Mousse scuttered away. Shampoo shook her head and snorted in
disgust. Ranma resumed grinding up against her, a thin line of drool
oozing from his open mouth.
     (Mousse is pathetic,) she thought, face twisted with contempt. (After
we get back to Joketsuzoku, I should kill him and put him out of both our
miseries.) She smiled. (No. Instead, I'll turn him into a duck, stick him
in a cage and make him watch while Ranma fills me. *Then* I'll kill him.)
     Whirling in his arms, she kissed him, their tongues entwining with
abandon. With one hand he gripped her buttocks and the other he cradled
her head, molding her body to his.
     "That's enough, Great-granddaughter," sighed Cologne after what
seemed like forever. "We have to move quickly; it won't be long before
they figure out what happened." Face flushed, Shampoo nodded, her eyes
still locked on Ranma's as she pulled away.
     Minutes later they were all leaping from rooftop to rooftop like
young gazelles, in a bee-line to Tokyo International. Cologne was on
point, riding her cane like a pogo stick. Mousse brought up the rear,
sweating heavily, burdened with their luggage. Shampoo was just behind
Cologne, and Ranma followed Shampoo. Or rather, he followed her ass,
watching it bounce and wiggle as she moved, the personification of grace.
His mind was full of her, of images of the two of them locked in sweaty
embrace, rutting like animals. And each minute added new twists and
turns. . .and positions. . .
     When they stopped suddenly, he almost ran right into her, and came
close to loosing his balance on the sloping roof. He looked up. Cologne
had dismounted from her staff and was holding out before her like a
talisman. Shampoo (ohHERohgOdHER) had assumed a combat posture, both she
and her great-grandmother gazing at something just beyond them.
     Up ahead, the horizon seemed to shimmer. Ranma shook his head, trying
to focus his eyes; it was as though the world were made of Jell-O. Four
figures. Four figures. . .(who? What--) and then a familiar voice sliced
through the air like a katana, and reality abruptly snapped back into
place.
     "Cologne! And dear Shampoo. So nice to see you both this fine
evening," said Nodoka, her sweet tones dripping venom. Soun and Genma
stood on either side of her, while Akane hung back, her face a mask of
indifference.
     "Nice, too, that you are all so kind as to escort my son home in time
for dessert. But, I fear you are going the wrong way." She took a step
forward, her blade glinting in the dying light of the sun. "Allow us to
help."
     Mousse dropped his burden and leapt to Shampoo's side, determined to
protect her no matter what. Ranma blinked, and felt the roof move beneath
his feet. He began to see spots. . .
     "Ranma!" shouted Shampoo. He looked at her, and the lust gripped him
again. But she shook her head curtly when he moved towards her.
     "Ranma, bad people want try take Ranma away from Shampoo." She
pointed at Nodoka and the others. "Ranma going let them, or Ranma help
Shampoo stop them?"
     With difficulty he tore his eyes away from her and gazed at the
little group barring their path. When he saw his parents, the spots
exploded and everything went red.
     Somebody emitted an earth shattering, inhuman scream that raised the
hairs on the back of his neck. It was only after he found himself racing
forward, nearly running over Cologne before she dodged, that he realized
that the sound had come from his own mouth. Nodoka whapped him on the
temple with the flat of her sword and he felt nothing; his roundhouse kick
would have decapitated her had it connected. Genma's callused foot
imbedded itself in his stomach. He rolled with the impact and ducked the
follow-though; his own counterblow shattered ribs and sent his father
flying into the upper story of the neighboring house.
     Cologne was making mincemeat out of Soun, her staff rapidly reducing
him to a quivering mass of pain, while Mousse and Shampoo double-teamed
Nodoka. Mousse's weapons were just barely a match for Nodoka's sword, but
the turning point came when, in an effort to stay out of her reach, he
threw his knife-tipped extensor chains at her. Shampoo flew in from the
side while he did so, expecting her to be distracted; they were both
mistaken. Nodoka vanished at the last second, leaping 30 meters straight
up; Shampoo's screams were horrific when the chains wrapped themselves
around her body, the razor-sharp blades ripping into her flesh.
     "NO!!" screamed Mousse. He raced towards her, oblivious to the rest
of the battle, and Nodoka landed on his head, her delicate foot imbedding
it into the ceramic tiles of the roof. Then she whirled in time to parry
Colonge's blow, her sword striking sparks off of it's unknown substance.
     (What the hell is that thing made of?) she wondered as they
struggled. (It look's like wood, but. . .)
     They pushed each other back and forth inconclusively, doing a strange
tango across the top of the house. Then suddenly Nodoka fell backwards.
Cologne went spinning over her and Nodoka back flipped onto her feet; her
foot shot out to catch the old crone in the stomach, sending her flying
over the edge of the roof. As soon as she disappeared from sight she
turned, grabbed Mousse by the back of his collar and threw him in the
opposite direction, towards the Maison Ikkoku apartment house and it's
backyard goldfish pond. Shampoo she left writhing at her feet, in a
spreading pool of her own blood.
     "Let that be a lesson to you, whore," she hissed. Turning, she
spotted Akane, still standing nonchalantly out of the way.
     "Thank you so much for all of your help," said Nodoka acidly. "Now,
if you please, would you be so kind as to tell me where my husband is?"
     Face still expressionless, Akane silently pointed towards the house
across the street. From it's second story came screams, and the sound of
glass shattering. Nodoka frowned.
     Ranma's world was a wild, rocking threnody, a tiny box of heat,
death, and pain. The spots before his eyes had turned into flashing
strobes and his heart seemed to be racing at a thousand beats per minute.
There was blood everywhere, blood and shattered pieces that had once been
furniture, and the original occupants of the room they'd invaded lay in
one corner, a gory heap of flesh. He was pounding the man in front of him
with a table leg. His mind only vaguely registered the fact that it was
Genma; he just made his arms raise and fall, raise and fall over and over
again. Genma had lifted one shattered limb above his head in a futile
attempt to ward off the beating. He was screaming, but Ranma couldn't hear
it. Neither could he hear his mother when she moved up behind him, and he
didn't even feel the blow on the back of his neck that abruptly reduced
him to unconsciousness.


                             *    *    *    *


     The hill was steep and the climb was long, but it was the sort of
beautiful summer day that made one happy just for the chance to be
outside. Akane smiled at the birds soaring kilometers above through the
aquamarine sky. In her backpack she held a sketch pad, and as she moved
towards the summit she wondered weather she should draw the sky rather
then the cityscape. But when she reached the top and Tokyo spread itself
out before her in glorious panorama, it took her breath away.
     "My God," she whispered. She had never been up in Kajiki Park before.
It was located on a mountain of the same name, near the mouth of Tokyo
Bay, on the opposite side of the city from Fuji-yama. The spectacular view
of the metropolis and the ocean, not to mention the shade trees and
wildflowers, made it very popular with citizens and tourists alike.
Reclining beneath an ancient poplar near the edge of a steep drop, Akane
embraced satori: the clearing of the mind, allowing her senses to take in
the beauty of the scene uninhibited. Her breathing slowed, tension drifted
away, and everything seemed to come into a clearer focus. A Monarch
butterfly alighted for but a moment upon her knee, then took off again.
     Far away, blue light stabbed into the heavens. Another payload
ascended gracefully into orbit along the beam, soon disappearing amidst
the popcorn clouds.
     (The laser launcher at Tokyo International,) her mind told her. She
divorced herself from her emotions as the memories of the other day came
back to her, and she reexamined the events with a clinical detachment that
prevented her from breaking down into racking sobs.
     (Five more seconds,) thought Akane. (Had daddy delayed turning his
head for just five more seconds, he'd have missed them up on the roof, and
we'd have continued on towards the Nekkohanten. It'd have taken us at
least twenty minutes to tear the place apart looking for them, and by the
time we'd have figured their destination, they'd have been airborne aboard
a JAL hypersonic, Nanjing-bound.)
     She took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrance of cherry blossoms.
(They'd have made it back to her Amazon city-state and that would be all
she wrote; even Nodoka isn't crazy enough to try and take on Shampoo when
she's got her entire army behind her.) She smiled. (It would have been
over. All over; Ranma would be safely trapped with Shampoo, Genma and
Nodoka would've likely committed seppuku to preserve their honor and I'd
be free. Free. . .)
     Akane sighed, and ran her fingers through her hair. (What was it that
Draka poet, Ingolfsson, had once written? Ah. . ."The saddest statement
known to man/moreso even then the lamentations of the lonely/truly, those
words are/'if only. . .'")
     (Well, there is no use in mooning over what might have been,) she
resolved. (A true warrior deals with what is. And what this is a setback,
nothing more.)
     She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. (There is still the matter of
Ukyou,) she mused. Doubtless she had heard of her lackluster performance
during the confrontation with Shampoo and co., so she must know by now
that Akane was serious about not wanting Ranma anymore. No doubt Uu-chan
was planning their elopement right this minute, and was only waiting for
an opportune moment to make her move.
     (She'll have to wait until he's better,) she smiled. The come-down
from Shampoo's crude aphrodisiac had been ugly, to say the least; and made
all the worse when combined with the after-effects of that lunch Akane had
fed him the previous day. Dr. Tofu had not been equal to the task this
time, and the gastroenterologist at Tokyo General had "not seen this much
toxic material in one person's bloodstream since the Great C-ko Banquet
Disaster of '93." Right now Ranma was spending this glorious day in an
oxygen tent in the ICU, in a room right next to his father, zonked out of
his mind on pain-killers and anti-seizure medication.
     (He could always die,) she hoped, but knew in her heart that she
couldn't rely on this. Of course, one could hire a little help, if one
knew where to look. . .
     (Let's see--who do I know that's good with poisons?) she wondered.
(Pity that Kodachi's as much in love with Ranma as Ukyou; she'd be ideal
to whip up something untraceable.)
     She frowned. (Whatever happened to ol' 'Black Rose,' anyway? I
haven't seen nor heard of her since late last November. . .gods, it'd be
just my karma if she's decided to give up on her 'Ranma-sama' right when I
need her the most.) Perhaps, Akane speculated, Kodachi was just busy
working on some huge, intricate plot to get Ranma for herself once and for
all. (One can always hope.)
     Akane almost didn't hear the footsteps until they were right nearby.
She looked up, and smiled into Ryouga's face.
     "What are you thinking?" he asked.
     "Why?" she countered slyly.
     "The way you were grinning just now, like the proverbial cat that ate
the canary."
     She shrugged elaborately. "Mmmmm, well, with luck, I hope to be the
cat that sends the war-horse to the glue factory." She motioned for him to
sit down, and he joined her beneath the tree.
     "So," he said after a moment, "exactly how is our Ranma-kun?"
     "Still alive, for now," replied Akane. She shook her head sadly.
"Five more seconds, Ryouga, and they'd have passed by us on the roof. We'd
have never seen them. As it is, I must lay my hopes upon either Ukyou, or
the deleterious effect's of Shampoo's chemistry."
     "Ukyou's no match for Nodoka and Genma, and Ranma is very strong,"
said Ryouga slowly. "He may yet live."
     "If. . .one knew where one could secure a. . . 'medicine,' and
someone to administer it, Ranma might be made to visit the land of the
kami after all," said Akane quietly.
     Ryouga looked at her, slightly shocked. He hated Ranma with a
passion, and would not hesitate to dispatch him cleanly on the field of
battle, but what Akane was suggesting seemed. . .underhanded, sneaky,
vaguely dishonorable.
     (Possibly she's been paying too much attention to the methods of her
sister,) he thought. Nabiki had been known to cause certain troublesome
business rivals to 'disappear.' In commerce as well as the politics of the
Empire, poison was always the weapon of choice. Still. . .
     "What you are asking. . .is a job for a ninja," he said finally.
"Securing such help can be a delicate matter. And dangerous."
     "True," said Akane. She gazed at her fingers. "It is something I may
never have need of, but. . .I would most appreciate it if someone looked
into the matter. Discreetly." She smiled at him.
     They locked eyes for a moment. Then at last he nodded, almost
inpreceptibly. She reached over and gently squeezed his hand. He flushed
pink.
     They passed several minutes together in silence, just enjoying the
view. The clouds drifted past, and the sun climbed higher into the blue
sky. Akane reached into her backpack and brought out her sketch pad, but
as she removed a pencil from it's box, Ryouga placed his hand on hers.
     "Akane," he said. She looked at him.
     "A-Akane, I want you to know. . .if ever you need help, or a friend,
or someone to talk to, I'm here," he whispered. "I--I'm not sure how you
feel about me, what your emotions are. . ."
     "Ryouga. . ." Akane bit her lower lip, then steeled herself. I want
no misunderstandings, she thought.
     "Ryouga, I do like you. A lot. You have been a friend to me these
past several months like no other. I. . .I feel that I can trust you, more
then I can trust even my father or Kasumi." She paused. "I'm not in love
with you, Ryouga. Right now, I'm not in love with anybody. Perhaps my
experience with Ranma has soured me on romance; perhaps it's just not the
right time in my life yet. But I do care about you, Ryouga-kun."
     He smiled at her. To her great surprise, she found that she'd been
holding her breath, and let it out in a rush.
     "I understand, Aa-chan," he said. "I don't want to pressure you, or
anything. I respect you, and most of all I just want to be your friend. I
care a lot about you, too."
     She nodded, and rested her head on his shoulder, looking out over the
cityscape contentedly.
     (Friendship can, with patience, blossom into many things,) thought
Ryouga. (At the very least, I will have time to find a cure for my
problems.) And getting rid of the Curse of the Drowned Pig would be only
half the battle; he'd been on his way to Ukyou's place when he'd somehow
ended up here.
     (If I can only find the Spring of Drowned Navigator,) he mused,
watching the tiny white butterflies flit around their heads.
     (While I'm looking, maybe I can also find a good poison expert. . .)


                             *    *    *    *


     The light that streamed through the windows was the color of warm
blood, and seemed to burn everything it touched. Blood had been oozing
down from the cracks in the ceiling mere minutes earlier, covering the
floor, but then it disappeared, leaving no trace behind.
     Ranma sat at one end of the low table, shivering. His family was
there. Nodoka was attired in some sort of skintight, mirrored armor,
covered in spikes, one hand holding a leash. Genma was on the other end of
it, huge in his panda form, far bigger then in real life. He was muzzled,
jaws covered in blood and saliva, his now massive claws slathered with
gore.
     Akane sat at the opposite end of the table, face cast downwards,
demure in a pastel kimono. In front of each of them was a covered white
ceramic bowl. Then Akane's head jerked up suddenly, mechanically, like an
anthropomorphic doll's.
     "Time to eat!" she chirped. Ranma quailed, but couldn't move; his
legs were glued to the floor. Everyone lifted the tops from their bowls.
Inside, filth: fat worms, maggots and blowflies the size of golf balls.
The stench was appalling. As they writhed and crawled, everyone dug in,
using fingers rather then chopsticks. Ranma looked at his bowl and thanked
Amaterasu herself that it was empty. Akane smiled, and stood up.
     "Aaawww! Is Wanma's widdle bowl aw bare?" she giggled in Shampoo's
voice. "I fix that!" Flouncing over, she whipped off her clothes, squatted
over Ranma's dish, spread the lips of her vulva wide apart and--
     --he screamed, silently, eyes starting from his head, only a hiss of
breath issuing from his lungs. It was several minutes before he regained
control. He found that he was trembling and couldn't stop; aside from
that, he was immobile, strapped down.
     "Wh-where--?" He could still move his head. He looked around. A room,
a room of some sort; small, dark, the lights were out. Except for--to his
left, machines! Beeping, colored lights flashing, tubes snaking into his
upper arm. A hospital? He struggled to rise.
     The Ranma of old would have broken those bonds with ease. Now, it was
as though he were chained to the bed with adamantium links. He ceased
moving after a time, winded, and called out for help.
     No one came. He called again. (What's happened to me?) he wondered,
panicked. He could hardly remember anything--the past was a jumble of
disjointed events from which he couldn't separate reality from illusion. A
weird buzzing throbbed painfully from the center of his head while his
limbs felt as though they were being twisted off with tongs. He wondered
why he had been strapped down. Had someone captured him? If so, who?
Sha--Sha--he tried to remember a name but it skittered just out of reach,
like a mouse fleeing a flashlight beam.
     His eyes fell on a shadowy corner of the chamber. As he watched,
something moved.
     "Who's there?" he called. Nothing.
     "Who--" Suddenly, a bird flew at him from across the room, red and
black, with long talons and huge scarlet eyes. He screamed and tried to
beat it off. There was a blur of feathers and screeching.
     "--Saotome! Mr. Saotome, please!"
     He stopped, and found himself looking into the face of a woman.
     "Mr. Saotome. . .?"
     Blue eyes, blonde hair tied back in a bun, pink and white uniform. A
nurse? For some reason Ranma was wildly relieved that he didn't recognize
her.
     "Where am I?" he croaked.
     "Tokyo General hospital," said nurse. . .Lillia, he read from her
name tag. "Did you just wake up?" She began wiping his forehead with a
damp towel.
     He nodded jerkily. "A. . .a bird. Th-there was a bird in here--"
     "Shhhhh," she pressed a single finger to his lips. "There's nothing
here. You must have been dreaming."
     (But I was awake,) he thought with a shudder. Furtively he glanced
around the room. . .but there was only the two of them.
     "What happened?" he asked, licking his lips. His mouth was uncommonly
dry.
     "You were poisoned," she said quietly. "Someone abducted you or
something--I don't know the full story--but in the process you were shot
full of some sort of really weird. . .stuff. We've got most of it out,
now, though. . ." There was just a hint of doubt in the back of her voice
that came through like a shout from a megaphone.
     "W-why am I strapped down?" asked Ranma.
     She would not meet his eyes. "For a time you were. . .somewhat
violent," she replied. "Due to all the toxins in your bloodstream. But the
doctor will tell you everything when he comes by on his rounds in a few
hours." She brightened. "Would you like a little water? I can go get you a
cup."
     He nodded. She left him with a sunny smile, and he was alone again.
Suddenly, without warning, he began to weep. Softly, silently, chest
heaving as the tears streamed down his cheeks. The grief and fear unmanned
him totally in that solitary moment, and could he be free of the straps he
would have curled himself into a fetal position.


                             *    *    *    *


     Ten Days Later:
     He sat in his room, leaning against one wall, eyes closed. The wave
of dizziness and nausea had passed, and he no longer felt as though he
were about to vomit. It would be back again, though; it always returned,
despite the pills and the biofeedback. And the buzzing in his head. It
just. . .gods, it never went away. Sometimes. . .sometimes. . .it sounded
like. . .voices. Loud noises made it hurt worse so he always kept the
radio off; a pity because he loved music.
     Ranma opened his eyes. The sun was shining, but he hadn't been
outside since he got back from the hospital. Usually he just preferred to
sleep most of the day away. Anything else hurt too much.
     The trembling in his limbs had stopped before he was discharged.
According to Dr.'s Nakada and Tofu, the combined effects of all the
chemicals in his body had caused some neural damage that may or may not go
away with time. This morning he'd tried to work out a little in the
practice room, and it had been a horror. He couldn't even do his warm-up
stretches without getting badly winded, and as for the actual combat
drills, forget it.
     (It's like my body's forgotten everything,) he mourned. His
coordination was shot to hell, he could barely jump and breaking boards or
high-kicking was now impossible. How long it would take to get it all
back, he had no idea. Maybe soon. . .maybe never. . .
     School was out now, at least he didn't have to worry about that
anymore. He had graduated, despite missing the last few days; they had
mailed him his diploma. He was sorry he had not been able to march down
the isle with his friends, though. He'd seen the photo's of Akane, Ukyou
and the others in ceremonial dress during the rite, looking proud in the
first flush of their new adulthood. That had been over a week ago, while
he was still unconscious. In the pictures, Ukyou showed a tell-tale bit of
strain her eyes. Akane didn't look the least bit worried.
     He stared at the little army of medicine bottles sitting on the floor
beside him, along with a half-full glass of tepid water and a piece of
soft bread. It was all he could stomach thus far today. He'd been told
that in a few weeks, he would be allowed to try more complex foods again.
For now, however, that sort of thing was out of the question: who knew how
his poor, abused body might react?
     Suddenly, Ranma was shaken with a wild anger. He struggled to his
feet, breath coming in rasps, cursing the cane he needed just to help him
stand.
     "Weak," he hissed, pacing the room in the herky-jerky steps of an old
man. "I am weak." Time was when he could put his foot through steel walls.
     "Now I'm an invalid, maybe for good, thanks to you bitches," he
raged. "Nodoka, that cunt Shampoo, and especially Akane."
     Akane. There were no words on the planets or between them that could
express the upwelling of loathing he felt. Visions of exquisite torture
filled his mind: Akane, his parents, all of his enemies freezing in the
deepest ice pits of Jigoku, tormented by rats, demons and the dreaded
Mi-go. Even Ukyou; she was out to get him, too; he remembered last summer
when she'd tried to trick him into proposing to her.
     (God only knows what she sticks in that okonomiyaki of hers,) he
thought. Maybe it's a slower-acting 'love potion' then Shampoo's, but just
as deadly! And hadn't he heard rumors lately that she was planning to
elope with him? She could be sneaking around outside right now! Anger
abruptly replaced by fear, he hobbled over to the window, peeking out
through the blinds. No one there. . .but suppose she was in disguise?
Gods, she could be in this room right now! Or--he went pale. Tsubasa!
Tsubasa, Master of Deception! Whirling, he whapped at his desk with the
end of the cane, tried to assume a fighting stance in anticipation of an
attack and fell, stars exploding in his head as he landed hard on his
rump.
     "SHIT!" he shouted, then stood up again. His breathing grew ragged.
Maybe. . .maybe he was the lamp! Yeah! He knocked it to the floor,
shattering it to bits. Then he kicked at his own bedroll. Nothing, but
Ranma wasn't deceived.
     "I KNOW YOU'RE IN HERE!" he screamed. "COME OUT! COME OUT, COWARDS,
AND FACE ME--"
     "Ranma." He spun at the sound of the voice, and nearly fell over
again. It was Genma, standing in the doorway. He plastered on a hideous
parody of a smile.
     "Why. . .FATHER!" he oozed. "Just what brings. . .YOU here at this
particular moment in time, HMMMMMM? It couldn't be. . . anything in this
ROOM now, COULD IT?"
     "Ranma, as I told you yesterday, there's no one in here," said Genma
evenly. "Remember? Now, clean this up."
     "Oh? OH?! C-clean up--what, you mean, this?!" he pointed at the
pieces of the lamp that littered the floor. "Mercy, this is pretty sharp,
isn't it? What if I. . .CUT MYSELF, HMMMM? There couldn't be some sort of
'LOVE POTION' on the SHARDS that would GET INTO MY BODY AND--"
     "RANMA!" Genma shouted.
     "--MAKE ME FALL IN LOVE WITH THAT FUCKING EVIL SYPHILITIC WHORE
AKANE, HAH?! HAHHAH?! HAH?!!" We wobbled over to him with the unsteadiness
of a drunken man, eyes wild.
     "THAT'S IT, ISN'T IT?! ISN'T IT?!" Suddenly he doubled over with an
uncontrollable fit of the giggles.
     Genma just looked at him calmly for a few moments, saying nothing,
while his son laughed and laughed, finally coughing his lungs out till he
fell, red-faced, to his knees.
     "It's true, isn't it?" hissed Ranma, staring up at Genma with an
intensity that, despite himself, made the older man's skin crawl. "You're
trying to. . .destroy me. All of you. . ."
     "The only one who has done this to you is you, Ranma," he replied
evenly. "If you had not resisted your duty for so long, none of this would
have happened."
     "MY DUTY!!" Ranma screamed. Softer: "My. . .duty. . .well, what about
I want, old man? Don't think. . .I don't know what you're trying to do."
     "Oh, really? And what is that?"
     Ranma dragged himself back over to his former place against the wall,
and slumped down. "You're trying to weaken me," he sighed, "all of you.
Akane, mom, Shampoo, everyone; you hate me because of my prowess, my
strength, my grace in the Martial Arts. You're jealous of me and
you. . .can't. . .stand. . .it."
     Genma chucked, and shook his head sadly. "Well, you don't look too
powerful to me right now. No, Ranma, no; blaming us won't solve your
problems. And trying to fake madness won't get you out of your wedding
day." He turned to go. "Now do as I say, boy."
     Ranma trembled as the door clicked shut, teeth clenched. Then he
buried his face in his hands.
     The buzzing continued. Whispers. . .
     Downstairs, Akane came out of the ofuro bright and refreshed, mopping
her forehead with the towel.
     (Practice was good today,) she thought as she padded through the hall
in her robe. She had mastered all the kata's--the ballet-style
exercises--as well as half of the major blocking moves.
     (I'll have it down in no time,) she thought. The Kyuku Shinkai was
the most violent form of karate known to humanity. Only a very few people
ever managed to learn it, Cologne being the only one she knew of
personally. Even Shampoo was having a hard time with it, while Ukyou
wouldn't even make the attempt.
     (A year ago, I wouldn't have tried, myself,) Akane smiled. (And I
half believed Ranma when he taunted me that all I was good for was
breaking bricks. But since Ryouga and I started training together. . .
gods. . .)
     How they both had improved since then. Especially her.
     Deep within Akane's soul there had long raged a secret argument
betwixt femininity and her warrior nature, between being a stereotypical
"Traditional Japanese Girl" and embracing bushido. But with the collapse
of her relationship with Ranma--not to mention all of the kidnapping
attempts she'd had to suffer at the hands of would-be suitors--so died any
desire to accept a role that required submissiveness.
     (I must and will take control of my life,) she thought, (but if I am
to do so, I must also be willing to do the hard work necessary.) That left
no room for the faint of heart, just as it left no room for the lazy. She
daily rose before dawn now that school was finished and engaged in eight
hours of grueling practice. When not working out, she often meditated, or
studied new techniques. And on some days, she fasted: for along with her
newfound devotion to her craft, Akane had also discovered Shinto, and
embraced it with the quiet enthusiasm of the fanatic. There was a shrine
to Amaterasu-omikami in one corner of her room, and Kasumi was surprised
to discover that in her eating habits her sister had gone entirely vegan.
     (Heh. I hope that doesn't effect the plans for the marriage feast too
much,) she grinned, not that it matters. With her increased strength came
greater confidence, and Akane was already planning to step up to everyone
and throw down the gauntlet on the date of the proposed shotgun wedding.
She would not be married to Ranma; she would be allowed to leave for Tokyo
University this fall, weather she had to go around Genma and her Clan. . .
or through them.
     ("To desire the end is to desire the means,") she quoted in her head.
(I will succeed, my Will prevail, in this matter of the wedding. I do
*not* want a bloodbath, but if that's the way it's got to be. . .)
     The doorbell rang.
     "Akane, can you get that?" called Kasumi. "My hand's are a mess."
     "Haiii," said Akane. She paused, adjusted her robe for a second, and
went to the door. (Hope it's Ryouga,) she thought. (I can't wait to show
him some of my new moves.)
     "Konichi-wa," she said cheerily. And then froze.
     "Konichi-wa, Akane-san," came the sunny reply. The woman at the
threshold was smiling, and resplendent in a navy blue gown of flowing
muslin. Her ebony hair ran freely down her back instead of being confined
in it's usual horse-tail. Within her hands she held a huge bouquet of
roses. Red. . .
     . . .and black.
     It was Kodachi Kunou.


                 You only live twice:
                 once when you are born
                 and once when you look death in the face.
                      --Bassho› (Japanese poet)
                        1643-94