This is the second draft, with almost all of the corrections suggested and some other reworking. Some places the grammar is still a tiny bit rough unintentionally (as opposed to where it's intentional ;). And as an added bonus, with your purchase of part one you get the brand new glossary *absolutely free*. Act now, this low, low cost can only be offered for a limited time. For those of you who accidentally missed them the first time and commented about the "nature" of the content, please read the warnings and disclaimers this time. They're there for a very good reason. As always, enjoy it if you wish and thank you for reading. -DaR BML Productions Warning: This fan fiction work is appropriate for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is highly advised. in conjunction with Sick and Twisted Bastards United Disclaimer: This is a work of fantasy set in an imaginary world with fictional characters. The events contained within may be impossible, illegal, or immoral in real life. Additionally, significant issues and concerns are conveniently ignored for the sake of the story. This is only words. Really. present a DamnWrong fic in the world of Takahashi Rumiko's Ranma 1/2 I claim no ownership of any of the situations, characters, or background material appearing in this story. Even the ones I did happen to create. Ishi o Tsukau written by DaR $Date: 1998/09/22 07:09:38 $ $Revision: 0.10 $ Part One: Ascension and Discovery That in our proper motion we ascend Up to our native seat: descent and fall To us is adverse. John Milton, "Paradise Lost" *** "DIE, YOU PERVERTED OLD FREAK!" Ranma chased Happousai into the master's room, trying to recover his shirt and Akane's underwear. Bouncing off the wall, the pint sized martial artist aimed himself directly at Ranma's, currently female, chest. However, after long experience fighting the master, Ranma anticipated the move, already reversing directions and rolling backwards. He grabbed the outstretched arms and flung his opponent upwards. The little freak catapulted towards the ceiling, bounced badly, and came straight back down. As Happousai fell, Ranma completed his roll and was ready. When the master dropped past Ranma's chest, his nominal pupil unloaded a mighty kick, punting him out the open window and over the fence surrounding the Tendou dojo. With deep satisfaction Ranma watched him fly off, absently rubbing his shoulder. He'd rolled over something pointy during that last throw. Looking down, he kicked aside part of the master's futon, revealing an oddly bound book. he thought as he crouched down to get a closer look. Unwilling to actually touch the tome yet, he examined the imprinting on the leathery cover. For some reason it seemed to cry out, begging to be opened and read, a novel sensation for Ranma. Absorbed in examining the artifact, he missed the return of the now extremely annoyed Happousai. In fact, the little martial artist was downright infuriated, not even attempting to glomp Ranma's still bare and still female chest. The master didn't pause to threaten his student as was his habit. He just leapt straight in with a pair of quick jabs and a shoulder throw that sent Ranma out on the trajectory he'd traveled but a moment before. Ranma tumbled through the air, then hit the ground. Breaking his momentum in an instinctive fashion, he rolled to absorb the impact. As he tried to recover from the dual shock of the tome and the sudden and furious assault by Happousai, he took stock of where he was. There was a rock wall behind him, no, under him. Lying on the ground on his back, he realized. Opening his eyes he looked up, receiving his third sanity jarring surprise in a very short period. Above him stood Akane, his head resting more or less on her shoes. His eyes traced up the inside of her calf, across the knee and then on upwards over and past the creamy white inner thigh. Then his brain froze. Looking down at her erstwhile fiancee, Akane started to simmer. After all, she'd just been groped by that freaky pervert Happousai and had her panties stol....... Ranma. Ground. Skirt. Panties. Stolen. Pervert. Fiancee. No panties. Ranma on ground. Ranma never had a chance. A small trickle of blood from his nose announced the utter and complete lack of higher cognition. His eyes were wide and his whole body was stiff as a board. Akane's battle aura went from simmer to rapid boil in under a tenth of second. Witnesses would later swear the violet and blue glow was so bright it blotted out the sun momentarily and wilted flowers behind glass three blocks away. "YOU STUPID PERVERT!" And away Ranma went like a cruise missile, still stiff as a board. As he sailed through the air, bare chested, in his cursed form, and with his shirt clutched in one hand, he looked very, very stunned. It was an impressive kick for a girl who had been trying to hold her skirt tight around her legs. *** Sitting on the edge of the water fountain, Ranma absentmindedly wrung out his shirt. His eyes were still somewhat wide and glazed, and none of the usual muttered comments about 'tomboy' or 'uncute fiancee' could be heard. Those people passing by either gawked at his half nude female form or at the simple fact that Saotome Ranma had landed in water and hadn't immediately jumped out cursing someone's name (like Akane's). In fact, he seemed to be blushing fairly heavily. Shrugging the shirt on, he turned and wandered away, not really headed anywhere in particular. The citizens of Nerima, who had witnessed this rather momentous occasion, exchanged worried glances. Something was up, something big. Several people scurried off to make sure their insurance premiums were all paid up. As he walked, Ranma tried to figure out why he was feeling so... dazed, no... confused, no... aroused, yes that was it. It wasn't as if he'd never seen Akane nude before, but those incidents were generally at a distance, or she had been grasping a towel, submerged in the water, or otherwise partially covered. The look he'd gotten today was quite a bit closer and a lot more intimate than any previous. All the insults he used to keep his distance didn't change the fact that Akane was one fine looking girl, strike that, woman. And despite his posturing about being better looking, he'd never been comfortable enough with the curse to explore his female form in any sort of detail. *** Akane sat on her bed, alternately fuming and trying to keep from sobbing. It had not been a good day for the youngest Tendou. To start things off on the wrong foot, Ranma had insulted her cooking again at breakfast, and the resulting fight had made her late for school. The attack by Kodachi the previous evening had kept her from studying, so she'd done poorly on her tests. At lunch, Ranma's two bimbos showed up and had taken turns insulting her and glomping onto him. Then after school that shriveled up excuse for a martial arts master had molested her and her friends and stolen their panties. While they were in them no less. Then, the icing on the cake, while trying to get home with her decency intact, that... that.... pervert ended up staring straight up her skirt. The sobbing took over for a minute, until she heard a soft knock on the door. Kasumi, it had to be. she thought. "Akane, can I come in?" She had half a mind to scream 'No, go away' at the top of her lungs, but she couldn't. Nobody screamed at Kasumi. Ever. "Please, Akane?" With a defeated sigh, she opened the door and let her elder sister into the room. She returned to her bed and sat, looking up at Kasumi with bleary eyes. The question formed in the older Tendou girl's mouth as she sat down next to her, and Akane already knew what it was. Her mind sluggishly turned over answers, failing to find one before the words took to the air. "What's wrong Akane? What happened?" Too much, it was too much. With a sorrowful wail, she buried her face in her older sister's shoulder. Akane let out her grief in Kasumi's warm, comfortable embrace, unloading the accumulated stress on the one person who always understood, who always cared. She let the hand stroking her hair and the low humming calm her raging emotions. A scuffling sound caused Kasumi to look up. Nabiki stood by the door, face neutral, but she could read the embarrassment and concern beneath that mask. With a slight shake of her head she sent the middle sister on her way. *** Ranma hesitated in front of the door to the house, not sure if he was ready to face the rest of his 'family', let alone Akane. He blushed a bit deeper as a flashback ran through his mind. Finally he stepped through, and with a sigh of relief was not set upon by either Soun or his father. He could imagine the demon head his fiancee's father would pull if Akane had told him what happened. The elder Tendou was sometimes hard to figure for Ranma. Ghosting through the house, he noticed the kettle in its customary spot on the stove, though the burner beneath wasn't on. He faded back into the living room as he heard footsteps on the stairs. Nabiki walked by, stopping briefly at the door to put on her shoes and announce to anyone listening that she was going, and then left. Looking around, he saw neither his father or Mr. Tendou, nor Kasumi, come to think of it. Happousai's door was shut as well. Somehow, the house felt very empty. He entered the bathroom and turned on the hot water tap on the sink, waiting for it to warm up enough. The wait was enough time for his subconscious to dredge up that... horrible... no, not horrible... that... that... image. Every time he saw it flash over the insides of his eyelids he grew more uncomfortable. In more ways than one. Finally the water had reached the necessary temperature. With little ceremony he filled a glass and upended it over himself, feeling the familiar transformation take hold. It didn't hurt, but even after all this time it gave him cold shivers when it happened, the stretching of bone and tissue, the rearranging of internal organs, the sudden shift in his center of gravity. Then it was over. Having his normal, if damp, shape back, he became aware of one other slight problem he didn't have to deal with while wearing his female body. With a couple of deft adjustments the problem was less immediately apparent, though not gone completely. Ranma heard the door to Akane's room open, and someone came down the stairs and went into the kitchen, moving lightly but surely. he thought. Several moments passed and no other movement could be heard in the house, so he slipped out of the bathroom and crept up the stairs, being careful to avoid the several squeaky planks. At the top of the stairs he paused, looking slightly left towards Akane's room, and then down the hall to the guest room that was his. The carved wooden duck on her door stared back balefully, full of accusation. The image flashed through his mind again and he almost stumbled, reaching a hand out to steady himself. He was almost to her door when he heard the soft click that was assuredly his doom. Panic momentarily gripped Ranma as the door swung open to reveal his... Akane. His mouth tried to stammer an apology, but his traitor brain went on vacation and refused to supply words. Instead he looked away from her completely, his blush deepening. Without uttering a word he rushed past her, nearly diving into the safety of his own room. He collapsed on his futon, exhausted for no reason. Curling into a ball, a confused and flustered Saotome Ranma tried to fall asleep. *** Stepping out of his room, Ranma still felt somewhat weary and a little more than somewhat uncomfortable. He couldn't seem to get the thought of what he'd seen earlier out of his mind. Trying not to think about it only made it worse. Something to distract him from it, that's what he needed. A little more sure of himself, he went downstairs, hoping his Pop was around for a little sparring session. A little voice mentioned that Akane might be around, but he squashed it ruthlessly, not wanting to think about it. Unfortunately neither his father nor Soun was around, and he deflated a bit. He turned towards the kitchen hoping to grab a quick snack before dinner started. he thought. Kasumi had already started preparations for dinner. He hesitated, still not sure that he wanted to get into a discussion of what had happened before he came to grips with it himself. On the other hand, Kasumi was certainly least likely to hit him, pound him, scream at him, or extort money from him. "Hello Ranma." She didn't really look up from her task. "Good afternoon Kasumi." He winced as he said it. Kasumi without a beaming smile was a rare sight indeed. Silence reigned for a few moments, while Ranma grew steadily more fidgety. "I'm really sorry about this, Kasumi." That at least earned him a ghost of a smile. "I'm not sure I'm the one you should be apologizing to, Ranma." Ranma hung his head, trying unsuccessfully to get a grip on his whirling mind. As he stared at the floor he heard Kasumi go back to her cooking. He looked up just as Kasumi crossed the kitchen to retrieve something from the refrigerator, and just as she leaned in to fetch it out, his mind replayed the image that had been haunting him all afternoon. He was petrified, unable to accept that he'd had such a thought about Kasumi. He turned and fled, absolutely unwilling to look the one person who treated him truly decently in the face after that. *** The afternoon sunlight danced on the clouds, twisting them into wonderful shapes that the supine Ranma ignored completely. It had been an overwhelming day for Saotome, all things considered. Heir to the Musabetsu Kakutou Ryuu, likely inheritor of the Tendou Dojo until today, and now the lowest pervert in the world. . The more Ranma thought about it, the more this confused him. Kasumi was beautiful, easily the best looking of the Tendou sisters. She didn't have raw magnetism like Nabiki, and wasn't cute like Akane, but she was far prettier than either and had an incredible aura of perfect innocence about her. Asides from shopping and the occasional visit to borrow books from Tofu-sensei at the clinic, she didn't go out at all. Ranma would have figured her to be surrounded by suitors, being nearly ideal material for a wife in every way. At times he almost wished he'd been engaged to her instead of Akane. He ripped his thoughts away from his current fiancee's older sister. A distraction was what he needed, maybe he'd go get one of his manga. No, mustn't risk going inside now, besides he'd already read them all several times over. He sat up and stretched slightly and felt a tiny twinge in his shoulder. He wondered why until he remembered rolling over that odd book during his fight earlier. For a long while he watched the light play across the sky as evening began to set. His thoughts kept returning to the book, wondering what it could possibly be, and why the master had it in his room. As he sat he recalled the sensation that seemed to be the book calling to him, offering him depths of knowledge no one else would see. *** Ranma paused outside the master's room, listening carefully for any signs that he might be inside. Nothing. Carefully sliding the door open, he slipped inside, shutting it behind him as quietly as possible. The tome was still there, lying on the floor next to the futon, just as it had been earlier. A brief scan of the rest of the room revealed no surprises waiting. Again he crouched next to the book without touching it, examining its surface. Finally he forced himself to reach out. He stopped short, letting his hand float just above the surface, unsure if his course of action was the right one. The bound pages still seemed to call to him, begging to be read, explored, understood. It was a very unfamiliar sensation to Ranma, who understood the physical things of the world far more than the academic. But it did feel right. He grabbed the ancient manuscript, for some reason surprised that simply holding it didn't kill him, grant a cosmic revelation, or both. It was heavy and solid, the pages were a thick parchment, and the binding was tough and flexible. The leather cover was rough, but the edges had been smoothed by many hands over many years. He held it tightly, readying himself to open it, then stopped. . Ranma stood carefully, holding the book across his chest with both arms. He slid back out of the room, taking care to make sure everything was exactly like he had found it. He practically skipped down the hall, eager to get away and inspect his treasure. As he hit the main living area he heard Kasumi's contented humming coming from the kitchen as she chopped vegetables for dinner. Rather than risk an encounter now, he turned around, heading for the back yard and the dojo. He was halfway across the short gravel path separating the two buildings when he heard a cry that made his spirit rise. "RANMA! I'LL KILL YOU!" Here was something he knew how to deal with. No need to feel embarrassed, no complicated emotions, just the smooth perfection of the Fight, the pure focus of the Art. He leapt to the side, allowing the descending Ryouga to hit the ground fist first. The resulting crater was quite impressive. He wasn't at his best, his concentration was understandably shaken and he was clutching the book protectively to his chest to prevent it from being damaged. The eternally lost boy rose from his kneeling position, still looking down at the crater and mouthing threats that Ranma didn't bother to hear. "Yeah, you wish, P-chan." Bingo. Ryouga's battle aura flared brightly and he darted towards him with a fist cocked and an incredibly loud battle cry. Ranma stood his ground calmly, watching the headlong rush with narrowed eyes. Just as the pig boy was about to lash out, Ranma went down backwards, improvising another variant of the tomoe nage throw, he'd used on Happousai earlier. As he fell he planted a foot in Ryouga's wide open stomach, flexed it slightly, and then pushed with all his might. Overcommitted to the punch, Ryouga couldn't halt his momentum or prevent the throw and went over his opponent in an arc, landing heavily on his back. Using the momentum from the throw, Ranma leapt to his feet, still holding the book tightly. Ryouga was already scrambling to his feet, slightly out of breath from the impact, but still very much ready to do damage to his adversary. He came in swinging again, forcing Ranma to duck and weave to avoid being struck. The quicker boy danced back, throwing the occasional kick to keep distance. "Dammit, fight me, Ranma!" The lost boy was getting even more frustrated than usual. He couldn't hit Ranma at all, which wasn't all that unusual in and of itself, but there was no offense from his opponent at all, just a few flailed legs to keep him from closing. Swing, swing, miss, miss. Ryouga's fury grew with each swipe. Finally he bellowed, "Stand still so I can beat you for what you did to poor Akane!" Ranma froze like a deer caught in headlights, landing flat-footed. The next swing from the enraged Ryouga caught him absolutely flush on the jaw. He went flying backward, propelled by the force of the blow, and slammed into the wall surrounding the Tendou property. His face hurt terribly, but somehow it didn't seem all that important, nor was the pulsing ache of his back and ribs. Confused, Ryouga looked at his outstretched fist. He never hit Ranma full force, it just didn't happen. It was rare enough to hit the slippery bastard at all, and usually only when he was lining up some sort of strike of his own, but at best those were glancing shots. He'd just laid on on him at full strength. A thought filtered through his brain, Ranma had frozen when he'd mentioned the dastardly things he'd done to Akane. His rage snapped full on again and he rushed towards the wall, ready to destroy Ranma for his recent misdeeds. Ryouga's moment of confusion was all that saved Ranma from a lot more pain. He was still groggy, but he managed to spin out of the way of a concrete crushing punch, ducking and rolling away from the wall to gain some room to maneuver. His mind was still trying to puzzle out how lost boy could possibly know about it already. The answer came from his opponent, saving him the brain power. "How dare you make Akane cry after she made that food especially for you!" Relief flooded through Ranma. . He dodged a couple of more strikes, feeling them pass closer than he would have liked. The damage he'd taken was slowing him down, he needed to end this fight now and get someplace where he could recover. Hopping onto the wall, he tossed a couple of random insults at Ryouga and then dropped down on the other side, landing in the street. He raced around the corner as Ryouga thundered mightily and ran straight through the wall, knocking chunks of rock and concrete everywhere. The chase ended up taking several minutes since Ranma wasn't at full capacity, and was still holding the tome as well. Finally, he doubled back on himself quickly enough that the soon-to-be lost boy ran right past him and through another set of walls. As the sound of breaking brick and rock moved away, he sighed and headed for his favorite thinking spot under the bridge. *** Opening the aged tome randomly and leafing through the yellowed pages, Ranma could make out nothing of importance. The characters of the writing looked like nothing he'd ever seen before in all his travels, and most of the diagrams were foreign to any of his limited schooling. As he flipped through the pages, it became apparent the book was actually composed of many sections, each in a slightly different style of writing and drawing, perhaps written by different people. Two of the chapters seemed to strike him as more intelligible than the others. The first didn't really make sense, but the second was apparently a martial arts manual, complete with stylized drawings of people performing various blocks and strikes. With a single-minded intensity, he began to read the pages, mentally performing the techniques described. The fighting style was simple and straightforward, without a lot of flash. It reminded him a lot of some of the more traditional forms of karate. There didn't seem to be any new techniques and most of the kata and patterns were ones he'd learned or seen. However, he could see that a master in this form would be fairly well balanced and capable of holding their own in fights against any opponents at, or even slightly above, their own skill level. Despite all his other faults and shortcomings, Ranma was easily one of the best practitioners of the Art on the planet. He was well beyond Ryouga and the others his age and even Happousai was only a moderate challenge any more. Cologne could best him on a fairly regular basis, and he still took pride in a victory over her, but many of her wins came from the experiences of an incredibly long life and a vast knowledge beyond the Art itself. Pressure points were within the realm of the Art, but potions, spices, and magical artifacts weren't, and Cologne sometimes resorted to those to squeak out a victory. Occasionally someone like Herb or Saffron came along with a new style or killer technique that put him off for a match or two, but few could provide a challenge once he adapted to their style. Then he'd adopt their strengths, their good techniques, and at the same time, remove any newly revealed weaknesses from his own style. Somewhat disappointed that the manual hadn't revealed any great secrets, he flopped back on the bank of the river, randomly flipping through the remainder of the book. As he turned back, he came across the other section that had struck a chord in him. Staring at the characters and diagrams was a slightly maddening experience, he could *almost* make them out if he wasn't focusing, but as soon as he looked closer they became nonsense again. Then it hit him. The sensation was almost exactly the same as he felt when first trying to summon the ki necessary for techniques like the mouko takabisha or hiryu shoten ha. That same sort of desperate grasping he'd made before learning to simply relax and draw the power into himself as a matter of habit. Some people occasionally accused Ranma of being stupid, but that was mostly a judgment of his academic performance and somewhat undeveloped social skills. His mind made the leap nearly immediately, Slipping into the correct state of relaxed focus, he started over from the beginning of the section, trying to absorb the feeling of the text rather than the exact literal meaning. As he read he found some moves that felt familiar: there was a projectile like the shi shi houkoudan or his own mouko takabisha, a variant of the hiryu shoten ha that used pure ki instead of temperature at a cost of more energy, and a sort of shield barrier. He marveled at the power of Art the creators of this tome must have wielded, he doubted he would have been able to generate the life force necessary to hold such a shield for more than a couple of seconds. His mind began to explore the possibilities of such a move, and he idly flipped back and forth through the pages, not really paying attention to them. He cut the thought off abruptly, then flipped back a page. Holding absolutely still, he let his mind wrap around the odd characters, trying to divine their meaning. The technique seemed to be different than most of the others, the image he felt was of the ki coming from the target, only to be expelled in wave. He savored it, performing it in his mind, trying to feel exactly what it did, to grasp how it would be effective. Again, it hit him suddenly. The ki in the backlash was subtly different, and when it hit the opponent there would be a tremendous shock, paralyzing them in place. Only the best masters of spirit would be able to fight off the effects immediately, and those without any awareness of their internal strength would never be able to do so unaided. Slowly closing the book, Ranma tried to come to terms with what this meant. With this technique Kunou and Mousse dropped completely out of his league, fights with them could get deadly if he got carried away. Ryouga could snap himself out in a few moments, but with the kachuu tenshin amaguriken that's all it took to put even Pig Boy out of a fight. Happousai and Cologne would have enough control of their own spirit to shrug it off in no time and might even be able to shield from it after the first few uses, but even a momentary hesitation was enough to get a leg up against the old freaks. Ranma stood slowly, handling the book with even more respect than he'd used earlier. Returning to the street, he walked aimlessly, still mulling over the possibilities of the new techniques. Before long he had drifted into the local shopping area, and a quick look around began to gel the plan that was forming in his mind. There was no way he could take the manual back to the house. Happousai would either try to recover it, or someone else would stumble upon it. The thought of Ryouga "the walking ki factory" with some of these techniques was downright frightening. He wondered briefly why the old master hadn't ever used any of the techniques on him. he thought, unable to come up with any other explanation. Entering a sporting goods store, he walked up and down the aisles til he found what he was looking for. The backpack wasn't all that large, but it was sturdy, brown, and claimed to be completely waterproof. He could care less about the padding, ergonomic design, sporty styling, and other hype that covered the various tags dangling off it. He checked the straps and stitching, tugging and stretching to make sure everything would hold up. On his way toward the counter he picked up an oilcloth as well. He was so mentally engrossed with what he was about to do he never noticed that the bag was now the single most expensive item he'd ever owned, or that his wallet was now dangerously thin. He stopped outside the shop for a moment, crouching down on the ground. Spreading the oilcloth, he placed the ancient manuscript in the center, deftly folding the extra material up and around it, tying the corners in a proper knot. The new package was slipped into the backpack itself, which was zippered, clipped, tied, and then slung on his back as he stood back up. Ranma grinned to himself, and with a much more purposeful stride, headed towards Furinkan High school. It didn't take him long to get there, which suited him fine, as he was impatient to get his plan underway. He circled around the school campus, then hopped over the protecting wall, landing lightly on the ground inside. There was a small copse of trees on this side of the main building, the same ones he'd retreated to on his first day of school during the battle with Kunou. He looked around, examining the structure of the trunks and branches of each tree. he thought, leaping into the branches of the first. The shorter tree had limbs starting just at the height Ranma could reach with an easy jump, but they were well out of reach for most of the students and groundskeepers. The second tree had no low branches at all, so Ranma hopped up the branches of the first until he was high enough, then sprung across to the second tree. He climbed up the branches of the taller tree until he felt them start to bend slightly under his weight. Looking down, he figured he was almost 12 meters off the ground, good enough for his needs. He sat down on the limb and shrugged the backpack off his shoulder, then began to unfasten the ties and harnesses for the straps. Humming softly to himself as he worked, he tried to extend his plans for his new training program. He'd practiced the Art, and more recently taught himself, enough to know that trying to incorporate too much into his fighting style at once would actually hamper his effectiveness, rather than increase it. Since he'd gotten to the point where he could beat most of the people around him consistently, he'd had to come up with ways to make the fights a learning experience for himself as well as his opponent. So he limited himself, picking facets of a form to work on, trying to make them fit seamlessly into the rest of his style, rather than simply go all out and finish the fight. He worked leaping and kicks on his father, endurance building and throws against Ryouga, speed and dodging against Mousse, tactics and disabling strikes on Kunou, and then mixed them up again the next time he fought. Finally the backpack's straps were disassembled. He reached around the trunk of the tree carefully, grabbing several of the straps out of his other hand. At this height the tree's diameter was about the same as his own body, so when he pulled everything tight the backpack nestled against the tree as well as it had against him. The straps and makeshift harnessing were quickly fastened and buckled and a couple of tugs convinced Ranma that it wasn't going to fall off anytime soon. He double-checked all his preparations and then dropped backwards off the branch. The brief moment of free fall made his soul soar, and he held off as long as possible before grabbing a branch and swinging around it like a gymnast on a high bar. Momentum safely arrested, he let go and fell the rest of the way to the soft earth below. A quick walk around the base of the tree from varying distances proved that the combination of leaves, branches, and brown nylon hid it well, even knowing where to look, Ranma had trouble picking it out. Satisfied that no one could find the book unless they knew exactly where it was, he headed for home. Moving at a far more sedate pace than his normal roof hopping, he mentally ran a series of fights, figuring out where the optimal place to insert the new technique was. Used right it would pin his a opponent like a butterfly. Choushi, 'pin the butterfly'. Ranma was pleased, he even liked his name for the new technique. *** Nabiki closed the ledger and slumped back in her seat, allowing herself a quick moment of relaxation. Her left hand idly massaged her temple as she thought, and she drummed the desktop with her right in unconscious irritation. Saotome had gone too far this time, that much was sure. The sight of Akane crying on Kasumi's lap had given rise to a host of emotions that Nabiki normally kept locked in chains and buried deep inside in the cool concrete and steel that she presented to the world. Concern, pity, sympathy, and perhaps worst of all, love. And as much as she'd deny it publicly, the up and coming businesswoman did care for her family. Now she had to figure out what to do about the macho jock who seemed to make upsetting her younger sister his sole goal in life.... She couldn't take things too far, his crimes were more stupidity and ignorance than maliciousness or perversity, despite what Akane sometimes claimed. On the other hand, a little of the humiliation and embarrassment he'd cause her sister might do good to deflate that massive ego. Who knew, it might even bring the two of them closer together in the long run. And that's what her sister really wanted, even if she would never admit it, wasn't it? *** Dusk started to cast its spell across Nerima, slowly darkening the sky, deepening the hue of colors in everything its light touched before slowly sapping them away. Ranma strolled along the street as the overhead lights began to sputter and flicker to life, outlining harsh circles of light on the pavement below. He was hungry, and all the events in a rather busy day had conspired to keep him away from Kasumi's dinner at the Tendou dojo. He considered his options, and immediately discarded both the Nekohanten and Ucchan's. Akane was going to be plenty angry with him already without practically slapping her in the face by eating at a restaurant owned by another of his nominal fiancees. The earlier shopping trip had indeed drained his wallet more than he would have liked, so his choices were somewhat limited. With a mental shrug and a sigh he veered out of traffic at the next ramen stand he found, ducking under the curtain and seating himself at the counter. It was after the worst of the normal dinner rush, so the proprietor actually smiled and nodded at him as he sat and began to examine the menu. He looked a moment, deciding on the pork special with extra meat, only to change his mind at the last second. Instead he called out for an order of the house special. he thought with wry amusement. As the shadows lengthened behind him and people scurried by, he sat, looking at his hands. Getting himself out of this mess was going to require a lot of work, a lot of pain, or most likely both. The look Akane had given him in the hall that afternoon hurt more than any hundred punches or dining room tables. Her lack of anger spelled out her distress in giant flaming letters that even the socially dense Ranma could read. He wished she was just angry, he could deal with that, had been doing so for the entire time he'd known her. A couple of quick insults and then stand still and take what she thought he had coming. "Cheer up okyakusama, it can't be all bad." The bowl of ramen slid under his hands, the wisps of steam warm against his cool skin. Ranma smiled his thanks at the man barely older than himself and then returned his contemplation to the food in front of him. He muttered the ritual "itadakimasu" to himself as he broke the chopsticks apart, then took hold of the bowl. The eating utensils flashed, snatching up a piece of meat to be held in the cooling stream of air from his mouth. When the morsel had cooled just enough he popped it in his mouth, savoring the taste on his tongue. He sucked the broth off it carefully, and let the cooked flesh dissolve into shreds before swallowing it with exaggerated care. The ramen cook beamed as his customer nodded appreciation of the fare, and then returned to his work, slicing and chopping vegetables for the next batch of customers. Ranma watched carefully for a moment, noticing how the rhythm was different from, yet the same as, the one Kasumi used for preparing dinner in her kitchen. And just like her, the cook hummed to himself, keeping time with the flashing knife in a ditty that was made up on the spot, but as old as the hills. The young man put aside his troubles, concentrating instead on his meal. He ate slowly, glacially slow for him, enjoying the food for its own sake. Chopped carrots and onion, cubes of chicken, wafer thin slices of beef, bits of shrimp, and of course the noodles themselves all disappeared by the mouthful. Sipping at the still hot broth sent delicious tendrils of warmth through him. Despite his pacing the bowl was empty all too soon, so he simply sat, basking in the feeling. Finally he'd delayed enough, and he set the chopsticks down on the rim of the bowl, slowly standing up. He dug into his pocket, pulling out a handful of coins. The two five hundred yen coins clinked as they fell on the table, and after a heartbeat hesitation, a third joined them. The cook's eyes widened in appreciation, but Ranma didn't see it, he was already ducking out under the shop's awning and into the still young night. The contentment and cheer Ranma felt lasted him almost half a block. He was so happy he almost missed the impending attack, sensing the danger only at the last possible instant. The leap carried him high and right, and he touched down nimbly on a convenient wall, hands still in his pockets. He stuck one foot behind the other and rotated in place, facing the street he'd just abandoned. "Well, well, well. You found Tokyo twice in one day P-chan. That's got to be a new record." He was terribly annoyed at having the first moment of peace and happiness he'd had in a while ruined over Ryouga's stupid grudge. "Shut up, Ranma! You don't know..." his voice fairly bled with emotional angst before Ranma cut him off sharply. "...the hell you've seen because of me. Yadda, yadda, Die Ranma, yadda. If you're gonna fight, fight." As he offered the invitation he stepped off the wall, landing lightly next to it, both hands, now clenched fists, still in his pockets. Predictably, the lost boy rushed him, fist cocked straight back. Just as predictably, Ranma didn't move at all until Ryouga tried to unload the punch, then bent over sideways, letting the fist rush by and bury itself in the concrete behind him. He straightened up, and finally extracted a hand, using it to calmly brush the dust off his shoulder. Ryouga growled and swung with his other fist, but he was off balance, robbing it of the power he needed to pulverize his foe. Ranma grabbed the punch with his free hand and pushed off, tumbling Ryouga into the wall as he used the momentum to hop back. the pig-tailed martial artist thought, lining up to unleash his new move. He gathered the ki into himself, preparing to cast it out in a wave. Suddenly he dropped his stance, letting the energy flow out of him and skipping to his right with a muttered curse. Several unidentifiable blades, mostly attached to chains, struck the street where he'd been standing. Mousse landed behind them, arms already folded back into his robe, ready to strike again. He looked levelly at Ranma through those impossibly thick lenses. "I've come to...." Ranma afforded him no more courtesy than he had Ryouga, "...free Shampoo from my clutches. Geez, can't you guys at least get some original dialogue once in a while. I feel like I'm in a bad fighting game. All I need is for... aw shit." "No need for profanity vile sorcerer. I know my presence awes the likes of you, but you may simply kneel in respect..." Kunou Tatewaki stood on the other side of the street, waving his bokken in a vaguely threatening manner. "...and release the beauteous Tendou Akane and the oh so glorious pig-tailed girl. I *am* in a bad fighting game." He sighed, and dropped into a fighting stance, bringing up his guard. Ryouga had regained his feet, leaving Ranma in the center of a triangle of angry martial artists. Kunou and Mousse broke formation first, the kendoist rushing forwards with a series of horizontal slashes, while the hidden weapons expert leapt to the air again, releasing another flight of blades on chains. Nimbly twisting through the hail of metal, he ducked beneath the sword strikes, then hammered Kunou in the gut with a side kick before dancing away. Ryouga's punch received a block and nerve strike to the bicep for his effort. Ranma ducked under Mousse's descent, letting the razor sharp claws pass by. A quick tug and the falling martial artist collided with the ground bound Ryouga. The two went down in a heap of limbs, allowing Ranma the room he needed to twist away from Kunou's overhead blow. A quick Muy Thai kick to the back of the thigh sent the dim-wit stumbling into the pile, disrupting their efforts to untangle and rise. Skipping back, Ranma laughed merrily. The sight of the three cursing each other and trying to get up almost soothed the annoyance he felt at being interrupted. He stood stock still, settled into an hourglass stance, gathering the ki from himself and the three downed artists. He held it, feeling the rush of pure *life* struggle and surge under his control as he tweaked and shaped it. His opponents had finally separated and were clambering to their feet. The ki took form, bucking with a life of its own, so he let it go, guiding the flare away from himself. In his mind's eye he could see the blast wash towards them, rolling like the surf on the rocks. It crashed over the group just like a wave, slicing through their spirits, numbing and paralyzing them. Mousse and Kunou had made it to their knees, but got no further. Ryouga was actually standing. A breeze blew through the trees that lined the street, rustling leaves as it went. It was the only sound to be heard. Ranma stood in awe, staring at the three immobile men in front of him. For almost a minute he stood, watching them not move. Finally he broke his stance, hesitantly walking towards them. He reached out and pushed Ryouga's shoulder, and got no response. His longtime rival stood as still as he himself had been when he threw the blast, eyes still focused as if frozen in that instant of time. Every now and then a stray muscle in his face or neck would jump or one of his outstretched arms would quiver. He checked the other two, Mousse was on his hands and knees, while Kunou was crouched, using his bokken to rise. Both were absolutely still, without even the slight trembling that Ryouga displayed. All in all, it was exactly what Ranma had expected would happen. He focused briefly, checking over the aura of each. All could eventually break themselves out, though Kunou would be awful hungry and thirsty by the time he did. Ryouga's slight shivers were growing more pronounced, again confirming that the move would hold him a few minutes at best. It had worked. A move he'd learned in the ancient manuscript earlier in the afternoon had worked perfectly. With repeated execution he could get the time to throw it down to where it wouldn't even require trickery in a fight to pull it off. He practically danced for joy. Stifling an urge to run off and challenge the perverted freak or the old ghoul, he skipped back, bouncing from toe to heel as he examined the results of his work again. he thought. He recalled the steps for releasing the paralysis as they were written in the book. Reaching out, he recalled bits of the ki that he'd intertwined with the others, letting it snap back into its natural flows. The shudder from the three was almost eerie in its synchronization as they recovered their senses. Kunou and Mousse sagged, no longer really making an effort to get up, and Ryouga sat down rather bonelessly. "You guys are pathetic! Come back after training for ten more years." Saotome Ranma was flying high, the flush of success quickening his pulse. Hopping up on the fence again, he jammed his hands back in his pockets and sauntered away, whistling the same tuneless melody the ramen cook had been humming as he worked. *** Akane sat on her bed, school books open in front of her. The same page of shogunate history she had started reading a half hour ago was still there, still unfinished, question sheet on the reading still untouched. She couldn't concentrate, everything she thought about ended up leading to that ingrate fiancee of hers. How dare he peep on her like that, and then have the gall to not say anything at all about it. Not even an apology. Why didn't he say anything? At the very least she was expecting a rude comment about how she was built. Did he really think she was so unattractive he didn't have to insult her anymore? Uncertainty and doubt flashed through her and then years of self-conditioning kicked in, transforming it all into righteous anger. The sound of the book cracking shut echoed through the room. The next time she saw that stupid pervert fiancee of hers, she would give him exactly what he deserved. Her fingers slowly flexed in anticipation. *** Ranma stared at Nabiki, his confusion and dismay slowly being forged into a towering rage. "What?" his voice had been lower and softer than he intended. "What did you just say?" She had called him in for a "quick chat" and he had reluctantly followed her, knowing more or less what was coming. But he had distinctly not expected such outrageous demands. Nabiki was fairly protective of her little sister, but this was completely out of line, even for her. The ice queen stared evenly back. "You heard me Saotome. Come up with the money. Or I make your life an even bigger hell than it is." She paused, and made a theatrical show of looking at the ceiling. "Oh wait, you can't, can you, you over-muscled jock?" Nabiki looked back at him, sizing him up and down like a side of beef, her gaze containing a leer Ranma wouldn't have guessed she would use. "Hmm... I have some photographer friends. Maybe we can work something out with one." She made a somewhat obscene gesture with a careless wave. Tighter and tighter wound the spring containing the young martial artist's fury. He crossed the room so quickly she didn't even see him move. The offending hand was suddenly clenched tightly by the wrist. Before the pain registered, his face was right in front of hers, eyes slitted dangerously closed. He hissed, "As if I would ever go along with something like that...." Nabiki clamped down on the fiery pain shooting up her arm, and the fear that suddenly rose in her gut. Trying to maintain her cool demeanor, she looked straight into Ranma's eyes. "Don't bother threatening me. My price just went up a ten thousand yen." Snap. Little bits of the spring went scattering through the glowing anger in his soul. Ranma focused all his rage on her, trying to impress the fullness of his wrath. All he got was that damned cold glare, with the tiniest hint of pain. He clamped down tighter on her arm and then tossed it aside forcefully. "If you think you scare me, you can just fuck me, bitch!" he spat, dismissing her and her lousy threats. Spinning on his heel he stalked towards the door, pausing to throw another cutting insult before he left. The barb died in his throat as he felt Nabiki wrap herself around him from behind. He stiffened involuntarily, his confusion translating into hesitation. It was all the time the middle Tendou sister needed, as one hand deftly undid one of the ties of his shirt and slipped inside, fevered fingers caressing the cool skin beneath. Her other hand seemed to teleport inside the waistband of his pants, fumbling with the button fly on his boxers. The dual mounds of her breasts pressed into his back, separated only by two layers of silk, the hard spikes of her nipples in full evidence. Rage vanished nearly instantaneously in a whirl of other thoughts, and the wonderful sensations of those magic hands. Finally it occurred to him that it was Nabiki throwing herself at him and he panicked, windmilling his arms, and twisting away from the suddenly aggressive girl. He whipped around, stammering without words, and nearly fainted at the sight he encountered. Pure lust boiled in the eyes that moments before had held only icy contempt. Nabiki moved in again, reaching for him, her tongue sneaking out to wet her lips in an unconscious display of desire. His anxiety broke him out of his paralysis and he grabbed both her wrists, holding them wide apart and away from his body. This slowed her only slightly, and she all but threw herself on him, beginning to nuzzle as soon as she came in contact. Ranma could the slight dampness and heat of her lips as she kissed along his collarbone through the silk. Finally he found his voice, "Wh-what are you d-d-doing Nabiki?" He squirmed, trying to keep as much of his body out of contact with hers as possible. The feelings were pleasurable in and of themselves, but this was his fiancee's sister, a woman whom he'd been furious at less mere seconds earlier. Her reply was not at all what he was expecting. It was low and liquid, slightly sing-song, and somehow it inflamed him even more than the erotic snuggling he was being subjected to. "Why, I'm going to Fuck You Ra-n-ma." He could hear the capital letters, and the drawl she added to his name sent shivers down his spine. For the second time in several minutes he stared at her, though this time it was in indecision rather than fury. She bucked her hips slightly, rubbing her breasts and thighs against his chest and legs, looking straight up into his eyes, moving forward. Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips started to puckered as she moved in for the kill. Once again he panicked, unsure what to do about her sudden reversal from vicious bitch to playful sex kitten. At the last second he turned his face away, and her kiss hit his jawbone. Then it hit him, she was playing with him, trying to embarrass him the same way he had embarrassed Akane. His anger rose again and he shoved her back with both hands. "Bitch. What kind of joke is th...." The threat died on his tongue as he saw her eyes snap open. Instead of anger or amusement, there was only the raw lust. Nabiki was a good actor, but not that good, and Ranma could feel her desire rolling off in palpable waves. "Stop it Nabiki. You're freaking me out." Panic was giving way to slight hysteria. Ranma was a fairly ordinary teenager when it came to hormonal desires, but he had rabidly suppressed most of them as part of avoiding the whole mess of having to pick a fiancee. He simply had no experience in the sort of games Nabiki was playing. She licked her lips again, this time on purpose, and slid forward, letting her hips roll sexily as she came at him. Finally his hindbrain had had enough of the situation. It was time for fight or flight, and with that he dived towards her, swerving at the last second to avoid her clutching grasp. A conveniently open window offered escape and he accepted, scrambling over her bed and leaping through it. He hit the ground in the front yard at a full run, bounced to the wall and then was down the street, moving in great bounds like a frightened deer. Which, truth be told, wasn't too inaccurate. *** When Ranma finally calmed down enough to pay attention to his surroundings, he was somewhat surprised to discover he was less than a half block from the high school. He ran down the narrow alleyway, bounced over the wall and climbed one of the trees like a monkey. He crouched on a branch, breathing heavily, both from the exertion and to calm himself. He had been singularly unprepared for the about-face Nabiki had done. Wracking his brain, no ready excuse for her behavior became apparent. She'd been threatening him, so he'd gotten mad. She'd made a rude suggestion that he told her to forget. She'd threatened him again and he'd gotten really mad and grabbed her wrist, hoping the pain would crack that infuriating stony exterior. Forcing her hand hadn't worked, it earned another cool comment. He remembered being absolutely furious at that point, trying to impress his anger on her, then cursing her and trying to leave. Nothing that would cause her to attempt rape on him immediately thereafter. Something tickled the back of his mind, but he couldn't reach it in time. He thought about Nabiki, and the feel of her body against his, then shoved the thought away before he could decide he liked it. The middle sister was extremely good looking in her own way. A sort of animal magnetism, a guy just instinctively knew she was more woman than he could handle. She could make him squirm without ever her needing to say a word, just a slight arch of one of those delicate eyebrows could convey her contempt, annoyance, curiosity, or now, lust. The something tickled his brain again, and this time he grabbed it, letting the words play in his head. "Fuck me, bitch." the memory of his own voice was somewhat frightening, invoking the ghost of that incredible rage. "Why, I'm going to Fuck You Ra-n-ma." Her voice, sultry and erotic, evoked other images, real and imagined. "Fuck me." "I'm going to Fuck You." The desire to impress his anger on her, to make her understand. "Fuck me." "Fuck You." Pushing a bit of himself on her. A bit of himself. His spirit. His.... His ki. Pushing his ki at her. Holding her wrist. The words 'Fuck me' hanging in the air. Turning around and being mauled from behind. The words 'Fuck You'. He'd done it. He'd caused the sudden reversal. He must have used the choushi on her, but without taking her ki for it. Just his own. And the words he'd spoken. It hadn't been paralysis of the body, but of the will. Ranma sat alone in the tree for a rather long time. *** Glossary: itadakimasu - Literally 'I receive', a ritual phrase used before beginning to eat. okyakusama - Honored customer. In Japan this is the usual form of address for a store employee to use when speaking to customer. The Jusenkyou guide uses it to refer to Ranma and Genma for example. shi shi houkoudan - Roaring Lion Shot. Ryouga's 'fireball' attack. mouko takabisha - Fierce Tiger Domineering. Ranma's 'fireball' attack. hiryu shoten ha - Rising Dragon Hurricane. By moving in a circle around an enraged opponent while keeping cool himself, Ranma uses the temperature difference to generate a small whirlwind to attack the enemy. choushi - Pinning the Butterfly. Ranma's new technique. *** The blame for this whole mess goes to Sean Gaffney and, indirectly, Lara Bartram. I was pre-reading for Sean's "Complete Control" (inspired and heavily prodded by Lara) and he took it in a direction he hadn't intended to. I asked to take it the other direction. Oh, I also blame Mike Loader, because all fics seem to be his fault in some fashion or another. ;) Thanks to the following people for pre-reading, proof reading, advice, ideas, prodding, and other help: Thom Youngblood Sean Gaffney Lara Bartram Mike Loader Nick Leifker James 'Zen' Bateman Rod 'RPM' Malapitan Chris Bremer Trisha Sebastian David Tai and the rest of the KawaiiMUCK people who have kibbitzed on the accuracy of the situations and characters. plus all the people on the FFML who gave comments, corrections, and encouragement (Jamie and Bridget Wilde, David Eddy, John Lemon, Brian M, Sean Murphy, Mark Permo, Thomas Kinnon, and the rest) The characters, environment, and most back-story were created by Takahashi Rumiko-sensei and appear without any form of permission on her part or that of any of the interests representing her or owning rights to such. I have attempted to stay as true to my interpretation of the canon as possible, though due to the story, and the need for certain plot points, some extrapolation has obviously occurred. The ideas for the 'symbols' came from the very well written series 'The Book' posted to USENET by Blackie a while back. Blackie seems to have fallen off the net since then, and his ideas are used without any sort of direct permission. The title translates roughly as 'To Use the Will' As with all my works, I give express permission for anyone to use the characterizations, ideas, plots, and incidental characters contained within. Side stories are welcome, though you might want to make a note where in the continuity they fit, since I may extend either before or after something I've already written. -DaR -- Dan Root - dar@thekeep.org