It was an unusually terrified Saotome patriarch that stumbled his way to his encampment in a clearing near Hashima. He had understood little of what the fierce Shinkasa master had said, but the tone of voice and the general connotations were more than enough to see him well upon his way. There were many skills in life that Genma Saotome was more than a little deficient at, but the ability to preserve his own skin was not one of them. With a concentration that would have astounded his estranged son, he tried his best to analyse the situation from abroad. He had no money (that was not unusual though no less inconvenient); he was too well known by the locals to be able to steal and con his way through with impunity; and without his son, the Anything Goes 'sensei' really had no reason to be wandering around Japan any longer.

In order to rectify that last point, Genma had been returning continually to Hashima town for the past 8 months or so, leaving swiftly when trouble caught up with him, and returning just as rapidly once things had 'cooled down' a little. Always there had been the hope that he might find the chance to nab his son and heir, if the boy happened to wander about the nearby townships. But the months of impatient waiting had revealed that Ranma 'never' left the Clan compound, and was presumably under constant watch from one or more of the ninja guards (Genma could only assume this since he never actually saw any guardians - which was proper). Unbeknownst to his father, the ninja trainee had in fact ventured into the open on several occasions, as part of his training in stealth and 'shadow hopping'. Kogara had carefully routed his student's training courses in and around the town to keep the child away from his father's chosen sleeping places.

However, it now fell to the said father to decide just where the future lay. After the ninja master's outburst, the chances of even physically seeing his son had virtually vanished. Without Ranma as well, Genma had discovered even more difficulties in surviving on the road. No resident dojo masters would take him in - for to their eyes a young boy eager to learn their arts was a far more attractive incentive to a wandering Anything Goes freeloader. As well became that much harder to bargain off his child in exchange for supplies, without anymore evidence than a few faded photographs of the pigtailed child.

The total combinations of Genma's woes had instilled within him a fierce desire to just retire in a warm home for a long while to rest and recuperate. He was thoroughly fed up with the constantly frustrated attempts to 'rescue' the boy - the foolish child could damn well get himself out of his fix this time; Ranma being his heir and son notwithstanding, the boy was a severely painful headache to have to look after. However it was not so simple to just pack up and leave. He could leave alright (Genma was very good at leaving), but to go where? Certainly not his own home in Juuban - at least not yet, while he still valued his head in its current position. So who else would understand and heed his plight with sympathy?

Of course there was really only one answer, as it had always been in the past. In the distant days of his own training (the man shuddered at those memories), throughout all the hell he had endured under the Master, Genma had always been able to seek solace in his only friend and companion, Tendo Soun. Yes good ol' Tendo would understand his friend's trouble. As an added bonus, Soun would personally take to heart his friend's valiant attempts to rescue that fool of a boy - after all Soun needed Genma's son to fulfill that sacred pact they had made so long ago. Master Happousai himself had advocated their honourable vow, and Soun was just as determined to see that agreement fulfilled to the utmost. Last time Genma had contacted his comrade, Soun had been the proud father of no less than three beautiful daughters - a fine selection for Ranma, and more than the boy was likely to ever achieve on his own. Such a fine prospect it would have been, and then the God's foul luck had chosen to ruin it by stealing away the Anything Goes heir, and dishonourably placing him into another Clan, and a rogue one at that.

Still it was to Soun's abode that was Genma's next destination. Who knew, perhaps old Tendo might have a few ideas on how they might snatch back their wayward heir. In the meantime, Ranma at least by the ninja's assurances (which were however dubious at best) was unharmed and well - he would come out to find his own father when he was damn well good and ready. Genma had had enough of waiting for the foolish.

Now, how long was that swim across to Honshu Island again?

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

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

It was approaching ten o'clock, and the border guards were being replaced by the new shift, having stayed vigilantly in their hiding posts since sunset. Aside from these nightwatchers, most of the Clan members were in slumber, building the energy for the rigours of the new day.

However, not all. In a small meditation glade bordering Meyah's quarters, a young martial artist/ninja was practicing very vigorously with both bokken and bare fists, working deep into the night and only halting to rest when he was internally satisfied with the standard of the katas and forms learned that day. This had been the nightly ritual ever since Ranma had finally adopted weapons into his fighting style, and his sensei/mother had offered no complaint otherwise. For the first few days after he had begun, she had kept silent vigil, closely watching for any signs of a possible repeat performance of the awesome neko manifestations in her child's first nocturnal sessions. Convinced after a while that the occurrence was purely one-off, Meyah had returned herself to the nightly ritual of sleep, though keeping a wary eye for any disturbances. Counting on the amount of noise he usually made in his training (miniscule though it was), she subsequently attuned her natural senses for silence. Reversion into the Neko semi-state would be presumably marked by a sudden drop in sound levels. This was perhaps the first time in her life that Meyah was comforted by noise. And so the pigtailed ninja continued his katas in the solace of darkness and solitude.

Tonight however, Ranma was not alone in his practice. Indeed, there were two figures silently appraising his skills, from a respectful distance. It had been discovered around a month back that these two were the only Clan members who could still watch the eight year old without being detected. This was perhaps what disturbed the other masters the most - that a boy of so tender an age had proximity senses which were only surpassed in sensitivity by the ninja master Kagora, and his daughter. How much of this was due to natural gift, as opposed to a certain Neko technique was the topic of debate in the council hall this very night.

Nodding his satisfaction at having observed enough of the child, Kogara silently gestured his daughter to return to the council. Duplicating her wafting slide, they both swiftly padded back toward the great hall in silence.

***********

Within the Great hall, the atmosphere was decidedly tense.

"Confound this infernal waiting," muttered a disgruntled Weapons Master Kinaro, breaking the silence.

The lady opposite his seat - Spymaster Suzaharo Misho commented bemusedly, "You were never the one for patience, eh Miumasarano?"

Master Kinaro hated his surname, and everyone, including his students knew it. Even he had trouble saying the lengthy mouthful on occasion. However, there were much more important matters than petty jibes to attend to. He briefly scanned the hall room - fourteen masters were present, including himself, and the number would soon rise to sixteen once Masters Kogara and Meyah returned from their vigil.

The entire Shinkasa Clan master population. Even that grizzled old lore master Hikarnu Rishoto had been moved enough by their latest topic to vacate his personal sanctuary - the Shinkasa library. And rightly so, for the subject of one Saotome Ranma was a matter for the whole council, as it always was with Nekoken victims. But Kogara and his daughter aren't making the situation any easier by delaying us so.

It had been nearly two hours so far, and the various masters were coping in their own way. Most like Misho, Rishoto, and the ninja master Shinkasa Maya were patiently reclining in their chairs, or at least outwardly appearing patient. Guardmaster Hitoshi was pacing slowly across the length of the room. And of course, personalities such as himself were seething in silence.

Rishoto's watch clicked, signifying ten o'clock. Two hours, and still no ninja and sword master. Kinaro's added irritation was short lived as the pair finally quietly slipped into the council.

"Well?" master Hitoshi commented directly, "What is the state of the boy?"

Kogara sighed mildly before giving his pronouncement, "I'd hate to admit it, but young Ranma's case is proceeding far more rapidly than our past experience has foretold. You already know of Master Meyah's depiction of the child's combat session some two weeks ago. Added to that his inhuman maturing of the senses, and Ranma's enhanced speed, and it is easy to surmise that the boy hasn't long to go. Personally, I would give him perhaps another month - and that's a very rough estimate - before we are unable to cure him of the phobia."

"A month? With the Nekoken as unreliable as it is young Saotome might enter full reversion within the week." added another master.

Rishoto chose that moment to enter the exchange. "Then our decision is already made. Ranma will have to begin the cleansing process as soon as possible. Tomorrow even……"

Meyah interrupted desperately, "No! We cannot yet - my so…m-my charge is nowhere near emotionally capable of handling the stress of the cleansing. He has many debilitating doubts of his own worthiness, his honour. To force him to cower shrieking in a corner will surely destroy him."

"Do not let your love for your son," master Maya emphasised the word indicating her approval, "blind you to the greater good. He cannot be allowed to wander society with a permanently irreversible phobia of cats, it would be just begging the Nekoken to manifest itself. Ranma would have to be forever isolated in one of our sanctuaries, both for his own safety and the safety of those around him."

"I agree with my cousin," Kogara interceded gently to his daughter, "no matter how you may feel for Ranma, you cannot argue with reality. It is the lesser evil to torment the boy for a few weeks than to curse him forever." The old master hesitated, in reflection, "I can attest to that."

Misho added, "Kinaro and I already contacted the needed Buddhist mages four days ago. They will be ready to proceed by tomorrow morning."

Meyah's eyes narrowed slightly - that the spymaster had already presumed to summon the mages even before the council had been called indicated that despite the formalities, the decision was foregone - as was most likely planned. Like it or not, and she didn't like it, her son would begin the cleansing ritual as of tomorrow.

Rishoto announced formally, "As Lore master of Clan Shinkasa I hereby call my fellow masters to decree. In affirmation that Ninjitsu trainee Saotome Ranma, victim of the Nekoken, shall begin the cleansing as of tomorrow raise your right hands."

As one fifteen hands arose, followed reluctantly by the last.

"Any in negation of this proposition?"

Of course, there were none, and so the Lore master ended the brief ceremony. "Let it be known hereto forthwith that the proposition shall be carried out to its fullest, as declared unanimously by the masters of Shinkasa, with no abstentions. Let us rest our councils and depart for the new day." So saying, Rishoto wearily arose from his seat, the movement rapidly echoed by the others as they retired to their respective quarters.

"All a farce." Meyah quietly whispered, too softly for anyone to hear, before she too glided out of the room toward her own rooms. By now, Ranma should have mastered his katas and be sleeping.

Kogara silently watched his daughter depart before calling to her. "Daughter, stay a moment."

"Yes father?" she turned silently, already suspecting what he wished to discuss.

"You know this is ultimately the best for Ranma’s future." It wasn’t a question.

Meyah sighed, "Yes father, I know that. I just wish I did not know what the cleansing will entail for Ranma." Her voice broke. "He..h-he’s my child, blood ties or no, and I cannot bear the thought of him enduring that much." Almost invisibly a tear trickled its way down her cheek.

In a rare show of compassion, Kogara took his daughter into a warm comforting embrace. "Do not fret so, my child. Ranma is a strong boy. Stronger than any of us at his age. He will recover, given time and love."

"So young, it is wrong for one such as him to be punished so."

"Damnably unfair, but such is life," Kogara whispered. I will not let it happen – whatever the cost.

Meyah was not alone in the world as she cursed, "Damn you, Saotome Genma."

"Come now. Daughter, we must retire to bed. Tomorrow will be a heavy day for all."

They parted, but before Kogara had turned, she desperately pleaded to him. "Father, please treat Ranma gently. A strong child he may be, but the wrong push can break him so very easily."

Kogara straightened. "I hereby swear that Saotome Ranma will endure the cleansing and be cured without harm." Softening his voice he murmured, "Now, Meyah you’d best sleep now. Ranma will need you tomorrow."

"Thank you father." Meyah gratefully headed towards her quarters.

Kogara stayed on for a few minutes longer before retiring. He only wished he could have guaranteed his oath.

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

Meyah stole quietly into her son’s room, lovingly gazing upon him as he slumbered. A quick kiss to the forehead, and she was gliding towards her own room. Master Kagora was correct after all - the swordmaster needed her rest .

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

Genma managed to arrive, more or less unscathed in the old suburb of Nerima in good time, at least considering that he had either walked or swum the entire journey. Now all that remained was to find his old friend’s abode. Hopefully there would be a good wholesome lunch steaming this very moment – the Saotome patriarch remembered Tendo Kimiko’s cooking with fondness.

Of course he was yet to locate the Tendo residence, as it had been many years since Genma had been by here. Pulling out a roughly noted address from his gi, Genma casually pushed his wiry spectacles up to the bridge of his nose. Soun’s house was apparently a block further down. Hoisting his backpack higher on his shoulder, trudged onwards.

The kanji inscribed across the gable of the entryway confirmed that old Tendo hadn't moved during Genma's absence. As always, the largish red tiled roof and wooden façade which marked the old two storey construction (unusually large for modern day Japan) was a cheery welcome to a tired traveler. Pushing the waist high gate to the side, Genma Saotome ambled through the somewhat overgrown front yard and knocked firmly on the Tendos' front door.

"Yes? How may I help you?" Accompanied with the cheery greeting was a radiant smile. The person who answered was totally unexpected. It was a very young girl, no older than ten or eleven by his estimate. Expecting Kimiko, or perhaps Soun himself, Genma was temporarily caught off guard, and stood mute.

The girl examined him with tired eyes that were years older than her child's face. "I'm sorry, but could you tell me who you are sir? I have to get back soon or lunch will burn."

"Uh, uh…p-pardon me but who are you? I was expecting maybe Tendo Soun or his wife, Kimiko." Genma hastily stammered.

Her beatific smile suddenly faltered a little, and suddenly she appeared even more uncomfortable than her anonymous guest. Stepping back from the door, she gestured for the man the enter. "I'm Tendo Kasumi, fathe… ah that is Soun's daughter. Won't you please come in Mr…?" She left her sentence trailing.

"Saotome. Saotome Genma that is. I'm an old friend of your father's." So this is Soun's daughter - I wonder if she's the eldest or otherwise. He thankfully stepped into the warmer house, "So where is your father? I wanted to surprise him with my arrival." Genma wasn't a very perceptive man (even he secretly accepted it), but it was clear that something was a little off colour in this scene. He had expected one of the parents to have arrived by now, and what was Kimiko doing letting her daughter prepare lunch for the family? Some early cooking lessons maybe?

Quietly, Kasumi answered. "Father is upstairs in his room, first door to the left. I'm afraid you will have to let yourself in. H-he never really leaves his bedroom that often, at least not since……" She trailed off again, and hastily cut the conversation short with a quick apology and a short dash to her kitchen. Now out of sight of the strange man, the young girl hastily wiped at glistening eyes, and afixed a fresh smile before turning once again to the array of pots simmering upon the stove.

Frowning slightly, Genma abandoned any further attempt to extract more information and followed the girl's directions to proceed to old Tendo's room. It was closed, but he ignored the courtesy of knocking and instead walked straight in - to find a crumpled heap of a man sitting wretchedly upon a study desk. What shocked the martial artist were the blood shot red rimmed eyes which gradually widened in recognition - eyes that spoke of long hours of weeping combined with restless sleep. In a voice barely coherent in its whispering gasp, the broken man cried, "Saotome, i-is it really you?"

Before the overwhelmed visitor could respond he was rapidly seized in a bone crushing embrace, letting out a most undignified whoosh as the breath was knocked from his chest. Soun only continued to weep whilst desperately clinging to his longtime friend like a drowning man. Hesitantly, Genma returned the embrace, affectionately slapping his companion on the back. "Come now Tendo, whatever it is, it couldn't be that bad. Pull yourself together old friend."

Soun was unresponsive to his friend's words, and so Genma was left to continue awkwardly holding his comrade. This was a most unexpected welcome.

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

 The Sun was as always ready to greet the early risers in Yamakoro Mountain. So too did it usually greet an awakening Ranma, where the window of his room faced full east. Today however, the rising beams were blocked by a figure - that of his mother as she quietly watched him. Reaching out, she gently shook her slumbering child.

Ranma awoke blearily, with a half murmured, "Wha-, hey Mu-, a..Sensei, watcha doin' here?"

"Doing, Ranma," she quietly corrected. "Today you won't be having any lessons or training. Go to Master Kagora's dojo forthwith."

"What about breakfast?" he inquired as the young boy's stomach reminded him.

"It's better that you do not eat anything for what comes next."

Confused, Ranma nonetheless followed his mother toward the training centre he had grown so accustomed to. The only time mother reduced or cut his meals was before an official duel or trial in front of the masters. Acting on that thought he queried again, "Master, am I going to be challenged at a duel?"

"A challenge it will be, but not for combat," she answered sadly.

Despite being a little perplexed at the cryptic response, he still noted her tone. "Master, is something wrong?"

"You will find out when we get there."

Giving up, the boy quickened his flowing pace. The less time they took to arrive at the dojo, the quicker this mystery would be revealed.

***********

Thousands of miles away, on another continent, a matriarch was gazing at a sealed envelope held in her hands. To call her extremely aged was a mild understatement, but her eyes, brightened by a lifetime of mountain atmosphere, were as alert as always, betraying absolutely no sign of the senility which had claimed others literally centuries younger than herself. That the letter she held in her hands had even reached the ancient village, secluded and hidden within the peaks of the Bayankala Mountain Range, already severely limited the possible candidates who could have sent it. There was no return address.

Without wasting time with a scrying spell, she tore open the envelope, and pulled out its contents - another envelope. The opening was sealed as before, but this time with jet black wax, with a chop of a coiling dragon around a tiger's face embossed on its surface. The entire package tingled subversively to her aged hands with chi energy. It was a spell designed to allow only the chosen reader to view the letter - primitive to be sure, but then there weren't that many people in this world who could have performed such a technique in any case.

"Ah Shinkasa Kogara," she almost cackled, "it has been a very long time indeed." She broke the seal without any hesitation, and perused the letter contained within. As she read, faint lines of tension began to pull at the wrinkles of her eyes.

"Hmmm," the ancient crone mused to herself. A very interesting new member you've nabbed into your clan Kagora The old ninjitsu master was one of the few people (and a man to boot) whose judgement she trusted completely - perhaps even more than some of the other Joketsuzoku matriarchs. If Kogara had such high praise for so young a child, this Saotome Ranma might provide a most 'interesting' addition to the strength of her family. After all, her great great grand daughter (that was the irritating thing about being so old - family references became that much longer with each generation), and Khu Lon's own heir, young Xian Pu was Ranma's age. "Hmmm", she continued to muse. Saotome Ranma is a name I would do well to remember.

Of course there was that other issue - that of Happousai. Khu Lon was not one to hold petty grudges (at least not for the past 250 years or so), so the fact that up till now she still bore one of these against the equally ancient lecher was great cause for concern. She knew however that it was a petty jibe to meddle with his supposed heir, but if Kogara and the Shinkasa needed her assistance in warding off the Anything Goes founder, then they would most certainly have it. Anything that bothered that old thief was certainly worth investing in anyway.

Still all this was based on the fact that the young Ranma would survive the next few weeks. For your own sake, she thought, I'll pray that you are strong enough.

**********

Ranma knew immediately that something 'big' was up, when he stepped into Master Kagora's dojo. If it weren't for the fact that all furniture had been cleared from the room, save for the tatami mats which covered the vast floorspace, the presence of some twelve masters all wearing their gold bandannas of office would have been indication enough. Some of them he knew by name only, whilst others, like weapons Master Kinaro were often daily tutors. However all were universal in their stoic demeanour as they stood in a rough half-circle around the dojo entrance. Almost ambiently he noted that his own Master Kagora was amongst them. Meyah remained by her child's side.

There was a tense moment of silence before Kagora stepped forward to explain the situation. "Ranma, when you first came here, more than eight months ago, Master Meyah and I revealed to you something of a technique which your father forced upon you, and that it was an important reason as to why you have remained here with us."

The boy nodded dubiously. It was well known amongst the Clan that he 'knew' the Nekoken, and despite the noticeable absence of any living feline forms, it was one of the reasons why some of the other trainees tended to surreptitiously avoid him.

Kogara continued, "Tell us what you have been told of the Catfist."

"Well," the pigtailed boy began, reaching to scratch behind his head, "the Nekoken is an ancient martial arts technique devised in China, and is one of the most formidable offensive attacks in the artist's array. It is only usable when the practitioner has attained a particular state of mind - that in imitation of a cat. To be brought into such a state, he must have been induced by the presence of a feline form into an extremely distressed state - an intense phobic reaction which will eventually lead to the Neko mind state and the Nekoken. The technique itself employs chi energy to generate long invisible cutting blad…."

"That would be enough thank you, Ranma," Kogara gently interrupted, smiling slightly at his kohai's textbook recital (actually he was reciting from old Loremaster Rishoto, which was virtually the same thing). The eight year old probably wasn't even entirely sure what all the words in his speech meant. "However there are some facts which have never been told to you, some which will change your knowledge of the catfist - and it is now time for them to be revealed. You probably noticed that your fellow trainees are somewhat nervous of Nekoken victims, and perhaps with good reason - for not only is it a most powerful technique, but a very dangerous and unpredictable one. Out of all of us, Master Rishoto probably is the most knowledgeable on this." So saying he gestured to the wizened elderly master to follow on.

Clearing his throat, Rishoto began. "Yes, well Ranma, you must realise that the psycho-kinetic embodiment of a feline does not perceive an accurate conception of human ethical constraints…"

"Rishoto," Shinkasa Maya broke in, "try to talk in Japanese if that's possible." With a tilt of her head she indicated a thoroughly perplexed Ranma.

"Ahem, my apologies…that is, Ranma, a Nekoken victim in his 'cat' mode" (he grimaced distastefully at the unscientific terminology), "acts and thinks like a cat, and not a human.. But this 'cat' is special because it possesses a pair of 2 foot long claws which can cut through virtually anything except chi barriers." He paused for effect. "So Ranma, tell us what usually happens when you start harassing a very large cat?"

The boy shifted uncomfortably - he didn't enjoy thinking about anything remotely resembling that particular animal. "Well, I guess it would try to scratch you or someth….." he fell to a jarred halt as realisation dawned. "Y-you don't mean that I would…I would.." he blurted but was cut off.

"Try to imagine an angry cat with claws that could powder rock."

Ranma did just that and promptly looked sick.

"Yes," Kagora dryly stated, "it would be something like that." Turning more serious he knelt down so that he was eye to eye with the child. "Ranma, for your own safety, and the safety of others around you, we have to cure this curse. Otherwise it would be too dangerous to risk you encountering even a house cat in society. Are you willing to try?"

There was a short consideration time. "Yes sensei, I'm not gonna be scared of no c-cat."

Kogara resisted the instinctive reflex to correct the language. "Ranma it is not nearly as easy as you think. Indeed it will be a terribly painful experience for you - more than most people even here will ever experience." The ninja master's eyes seem to bore into the little boy, with their intense solemnity.

There was only a slightly longer delay. "No I wanna do it."

"Very well, then what must be done first is to let the priests assess you"

Ranma eyes scanned the people briefly. There weren't any priests here, a fact which was quickly corrected as a cadré of robed men stepped in. Their clothing marked them for two religions, three from Shinkasa's temple in Shinto's white and another three wearing the saffron orange of the Buddhist. "By way of explanation, Spymaster Misho introduced them. The buddhist monks are from China, and have come here specifically for you, as have our own Shinto priests. We will need to induce the Nekoken just once for them to see."

When the trainee failed to respond, she reiterated, "Ranma, we're going to have to scare you with a cat until you turn into one."

"Oh, okay then." He wasn't quite sure exactly how he was supposed to react to that statement.

Meyah gently guided the somewhat confused boy to the centre of the dojo. "Ranma, there is no shame whatsoever in being unable to contain your fear. Do not try to fight the fear, or it will only damage you. Are you alright?"

"Yeah Sensei, let's just get it over with." Unconsciously, the pigtailed boy drew himself up to full height, and steeled his jaw. Instinctively, Ranma realised that what would follow would be purely terrifying, but at the same time the rational portion of the eight year old also knew that it was a fear based on a curse, and nothing more.

Despite his readiness, the young child was still not prepared for when another master entered the dojo. In his arms was a……..

"CAAATTTT!!" he shrieked, eyes widening to expose the whites. All at once there were thousands of eyes, razor sharp claws reaching out to snatch at the fabric of his mind. The beast's eyes seemed to bore through his very soul, ruthlessly slicing apart his feeble defenses.

The ear splitting scream continued unabated, defying the boy's need to breathe for air. Meyah stood rooted in shock, eyes dampening as she helplessly viewed her son suffering in continuous torment. For Ranma, it was only that same scream which kept him alive, what kept him sane - he couldn't think, couldn't hear, it was all eyes and claws to his rapidly fracturing psyche. As the grey house cat opened its tiny mouth to yawn sleepily, Ranma was consumed with a myriad of teeth - the sharp razor knives of a carnivore, a hunter, a beast whose mission in life was to kill and to eat what it had murdered. And those same teeth threatened to rip the cowering boy, unless he could get away. Get away?

The hysterical child savagely tore himself out of his immobile state, frozen by the terror, and leapt away - combat skills unthinkingly angling himself toward the one constant source of comfort and love. Mother.

Meyah caught the cringing child in her arms, but held him for but an instant. Tearfully, she wrenched herself out of his grip, and shoved her son roughly back into the path of the feline. It was then that Ranma realised, through the intoxicating wave of fear, with icy cold clarity why the masters were standing in a wide circle around him. They would never let him go, forever hold him sway of that…that…..thing.

With slow deliberate steps, guard Master Hitoshi advanced upon the screaming eight year old, holding the house cat before him like an effigy. The fear that had possessed Ranma up till now was eclipsed by a terror so pure that its very existence was a fear unto itself. It became a tumultuous ache - a pressure on the brain that threatened to burst him from within.

All at once his conscience opened before the boy a possible escape, where he could flee in safety - an inky blackness, like a smothering blanket, it rose up to him and yawned invitingly. In it Ranma saw his salvation, a way to be taken, an isolation from the numbing hysteria of fear. Weeping with relief, he fled into the blackness and was consumed.

"Meeeooowwrrr", the quivering boy abruptly moaned, falling onto his arms and legs as if born to walk the world on fours. In truth, at that particular moment, he was. Eyes devoid of the former shine of humanity now stared predatorily around at the surrounding throng of tense ninjas. Behind, the priests viewed the entire spectacle in silence, save for one who was quietly chanting with eyes closed.

Meyah breathed a sigh in relief. That never ending shriek had finally ceased to torment her ears. At a nod of affirmation from her father she stealthily knelt and edged towards her child. The alien gaze that speculatively analysed her was enough to stop Meyah's approach, but the hard dispassionate hunter's stare immediately softened into a more amicable welcome. A questioning trill rumbled from the catboy's belly, as he craned his neck inquisitively to sniff Meyah's outstretched hand.

For Kogara, and virtually all the other masters there was an almost audible dissipation of tension. It was at this point that they considered their charge to be at his most dangerous, where the cat was still recovering from the bout of terror its 'human' side had just experienced, - and thus this turn of events was most unexpected. Kinaro almost snorted in suppressed laughter, the offset of tautness to his senses a welcome, almost giddy relief, "Why Master Meyah, I think he likes you."

She raised her head to afix a stony gaze, eyes shining with unshed tears - a look which immediately froze any concept of mirth. "Thank the Kami for small mercies, that my son still trusts me after what I did to him."

There was an uncomfortably strained silence as Meyah returned to stroking the pigtailed boy's head, to which he responded happily.

"Meyah, break him out of it now."

She nodded once. "Yes Master Kagora." And as she had done so all those months ago, Meyah once again focused her chi energy, silently channeling it into the fingers nestled in her child's hair. The hand glowed a luminous blue before Ranma's cat's eyes glazed over, and closed. Weakly, he slumped into her hold. With her task completed, she turned to her sensei and father, seeking to satisfy a nagging question, "Master Kogara, what would you have done had Ranma refused to undertake the cleansing?" Her voice was deceptively mild.

"I know enough of Ranma's nature that he would never have refused."

"But what if…."

The weary ninja master broke in firmly, "Ranma was NEVER going to refuse." Lightening his tone, Kogara moved to another topic. "You cannot imagine the benefit your innate healing skills provide to us," he spoke softly as he laid a warm hand upon his daughter's shoulder. Continuing at her inquisitive gaze, the master added, "There are relatively few known methods to stop a possessed Nekoken victim, short of murder. That he even recognises you when in its grip is a thankful bonus and a credit to the strength of his human spirit. Conventionally during the cleansing, the victim had to be doused with water, or secured until the catfist wore itself out."

Grimly, Hitoshi continued, "and it is no easy task to splash an unwilling beast which moves faster than the eye can track. Or for that matter to keep a pair of lethal slicing claws at bay for half-an-hour or so."

For the first time, one of the priests - the Buddhist who had been murmuring during the transformation - spoke up. "You should not have left it for so late. The curse is already firmly established into the fabric of his being - it would have been only a matter of days before he would have been incurable."

"But we can still cure him?" Kagora prompted.

 "It will be a difficult trial, both for the boy and for all of us, but yes we can cure him." the Buddhist hesitated a little, "However, total elimination of the neko persona will be unlikely. From my examination of his mind, I would assume that preceding today, Saotome Ranma perhaps manifested some cat behaviour?"

"Not so much that you would notice," Meyah commented from her kneeling position upon the tatami mats, "very minor and sporadic signs - his unusual speed, sensitive sight and hearing."

"No, no I speak of behaviour, not physical attributes. Enhanced senses and physical capability is not an unusual occurrence." There was the barest of a surreptitious glance towards Meyah's father, who acknowledged it with an equally hidden nod towards the priest.

Unnoticing, Meyah frowned in thought, her hands still comforting the slumbering boy. "No, I cannot say that I noticed anything untoward in his personality."

Rishoto smirked good-naturedly, "That my dear Meyah is because the feature in Ranma's personality which marks him out from the rest is the same quirk which is to be found in virtually all of you - the aura of danger." He hoped the bantering tone would ease the solemnity of the situation. Kami knew that they all needed as much relief as possible

At Kinaro's rude snort of disgust the aged loremaster added, "Though some hide it better than others."

Interested, Maya queried curiously, "Are you suggesting that I am currently radiating an aura of danger?"

"Call it whatever you want, but when you are alert and poised for action, people can inherently feel that you are a very dangerous person. I recall reading about aura generation some years back - on the theory of psycho kinetics, energy of the mind converting into…."

"So Ranma has a 'watch out I'm a very dangerous ninja' sign flashing on his forehead" Kinaro hastily continued, "as we all have when we are behaving like very dangerous ninjas. So what is so significant about that?"

A little miffed at being interrupted, Rishoto sarcastically commented, "Oh yes, what is so very significant about a little eight year old child who can make the locals' hair stand on end? It isn't just because of Ranma's being the best of his age group that the others tend to avoid him."

Authoritatively Kagora seized control of the conversation. "Fellow masters, this tirade can serve for some other late night discourse. We are here for a cleansing, and what concerns us must only pertain to that matter." Turning around he addressed the priest, "Brother Li Mian, if we are unable to clear the Nekoken totally from Ranma, in what way will that affect him?"

Noting the unvoiced concern, the priest hastily reassured, "You needn't fear - provided that we complete the cleansing, Ranma will have full control of the catfist. It is merely that the ritual will probably require a higher level of duration and intensity than usual." 'Usual' was a relative term - the last cleansing was more than fifty years into the past. He continued, "As well, after it is all over, it is likely that your boy will show some feline attributes in an intense combat situation whether he wishes to or otherwise. Outside of fighting, other people may find him, just a little strange. To what extent we cannot be sure until afterwards."

Kagora queried neutrally, "And is there anything we can do to prevent this?"

"Not within my experience."

"Very well then, we will do what needs to be done, and hope for the best, unless there are any other queries?" the ninja master left the question hanging.

"Yes," Meyah spoke up, "Brother Li Mian, by your estimation how long will the cleansing take?"

"Ordinarily, maybe four or five days, but for this case," the Buddhist hesitated reluctantly, "we would be looking at weeks."

"WEEKS?! How can you expect a little bo…."

"Meyah that is enough." Kagora cut in, softly but firmly. "Ranma is a strong boy - he WILL prevail through this, and our delaying only worsens the situation." Assuming position as unofficial leader of the council, he began commandeering the other masters; it was an unvoiced acceptance, as short of Rishoto, the ninja master bore the longest experience with the cleansing ritual.

"Hitoshi, I think we can dispose of the cat - it has served its purpose. Meyah, can you awaken Ranma?" At her affirmation he nodded. "Do so, and for the rest of us it would be wise to prepare yourselves. No one here save for Hitoshi, Rishoto and myself have ever witnessed a cleansing before. Our first priority is to keep Ranma close enough to the priests that their mental incantations have effect. The cleansing can only be take effect when the subject is at the greatest point of fear - Li Mian and his brotherhood will ensure that Ranma is prevented from reverting to the Nekoken state whilst immersed in his terror. In such a traumatised state, he may easily lash out unthinkingly, and so we must all be on guard to protect the priests." Throughout his tirade Kogara's voice remained clinically hard and detached, occasionally looking towards the as of yet mute Shintoists for any signs of disapproval. There were none. "Oh, and Kinaro, you can stop the recording now."

Silently, the weapons master drifted over to a darkened corner where a small video camera had apparently recorded the entire incident. Meyah's eyes narrowed in obvious disapproval, but she said nothing.

It was at this point that the pigtailed child finally began to stir, awakened by Meyah's mental call. Two dominant feelings cut viciously through the haze of the woozy boy's consciousness - pain and exhaustion. Ranma involuntarily croaked at the fire burning in the raw fibres of his throat, an action which only served to further aggravate the sensitive area. Wordlessly, he accepted an offered cup of some unidentified sweetish liquid.

"This will help soothe the pain Ranma," a voice gently whispered, "your screaming has worn down your vocal cords somewhat."

The disorientated boy lifted his head to the speaker, and quickly recognised her as, "Mom? w-what happened?" His questioning was promptly cut off as the overstressed voice box died into incoherent hissing.

"Hush now, no more talking." She paused, "Ranma what you just experienced is but a fraction of what is to come." Meyah vehemently wished she could have allowed her son the option of withdrawing from the ritual, but knew this to be impossible in any case.

The boy seemed to notice his lack of options, but nonetheless shook his head vigorously in the affirmative. Overlaying the terror which still reverberated in his eyes was a sheen of stubborn determination - the will to move on unthinking of the consequences, and it broke Meyah's heart to watch.

Maya interrupted their comforting embrace. "Ranma, we have to start now", she said almost regretfully. Before Meyah parted with her son she deftly placed a palm underneath the boy's chin, cupping his trachea firmly. A brief murmuring, a flare of blue light, and she had placed a temporary store of healing energy. "Ranma, the spell will keep you from crying out - at least you won't damage your throat any further."

The anxious child smiled weakly, tentatively grateful for small mercies. Pulling himself out of Meyah's grasp he resolutely stepped into the centre of the ring formed by the fourteen masters, soon fifteen when the swordmaster took her place. As a parting gesture, Kogara knelt to the determined boy. "Ranma, I truly wish this could have been otherwise." Saying no more, he stepped back and gestured for the priests to begin. Where previously only one had been incanting, now all six were mouthing incoherent words, each at a different pace and possibly a different language - but forming an uncanny synchronisation. Silence reigned the air as the power began to build.

The young eight year old was himself presented with a contradictory situation. He knew that very soon he would be scared beyond belief, and was also faced with the firm knowledge that there was no escaping it. And yet despite this, Ranma felt strangely detached, where the consciousness was convinced that logically, there was nothing to fear, that the Nekoken was merely a curse that held no substance for reality.

And all this was in turned eradicated when without warning, his child's imagination was flooded by a vibrantly horrifying image. Eyes glazed over, unseeing of the family and friends around him, he opened his mouth to scream.

Meyah vigorously maintained the wall which kept the emotions isolated from the awful sight arrayed in front of all - her own son, head arched back in a silent shriek, clutching his child's head as if to ward of invaders. For a moment she cursed herself for applying that spell - Meyah had thought it terrible enough to have to experience her child's tormented wail, but this mute wailing was so very much worse.

The boy was too lost in his own nightmare to care. Standing mere inches away from him was the muzzle of a awesome panther, fur blacker than the darkness surrounding, eyes glowing like miniature suns - eyes which burned through his essence. Ranma had no choice but to turn his gaze aside, lest his soul be cut down like wheat, but it was futile. There before him was the same magnificent beast, jaw trembling in the suggestion of a growl. Another turn, and still it was there - always silent always a panther. With the cold realisation borne of hopelessness, he discovered that it would always be there - for how could you run from your own mind?

And then, as before, the inky blackness was opened before the cowering child - the salvation was welcoming him once more. Desperately he fled towards it - and was stopped by the looming mask of the panther. It was like trying to stop a hurricane - all attempts were hopeless. Mindlessly, Ranma hammered at the essence of his own mind - trying to break down the barriers which barred him from the darkness.

And outside, in the real world the poised masters saw a hysterical child writhing madly. Behind the ring of ninjas were the priests - their omnipotent presence seemingly unaffected by the scene. Closer inspection revealed that all of them were already sorely taxed. Lines of perspiration slowly trickled down Li Mian's jaw, but he was unfeeling of the discomfort. Within, his mind was working furiously, attempting to break down the blackness of the Nekoken within the boy's psyche. The catfist only ever manifested itself during times of intense stress or fear - and the Buddhist had to make good use of the precious minutes as the Shintos valiantly beat down the violence of the child's crazed attempts to escape into the dark.

Ranma was battering uselessly at his own mind. The darkness was calling out to him almost mockingly, taunting him with its promise of blissful incoherence. And as always, a constant in this torturous world was the panther growling menacingly, growing ever larger - its eyes threatening to encompass his essence. It seemed to lean forward - to extend clawed paws to as if to grab at him. Ranma tried to scream but sound was evasive. Mentally he leapt back beating into the confines which held him. One of them gave a little.

One of the Shintoists managed a weak cry of warning before he crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. In that instant the quiet solemnity of the environment as all tried to distance themselves was slashed into complete chaos. Before Kogara could even summon the breath for a warning shout, the focus of their attention was flying in an impossible leap through the ceiling support beams to land before a tensely ready Kinaro. The only reason that the weapons master survived to see the next half second was that his opponent was focused entirely on fleeing and not fighting. Even so, he received a savage jab to the chin as the possessed child darted past, a blow which came agonizingly close to breaking the jaw. Now there was nothing between Ranma and the freedom of the outside. The last rational drop in the sea of torment that was infesting his brain hoped fervently that physical distance from this dojo would save him. Maya and Hitoshi, the two closest to the fallen master were already snapped into activity - garrotes hurled at the darting form of the boy to ensnare his wildly gyrating limbs. Abandoning the futile attempt, Maya discarded her rope, and instead swung her hand forward, fingers cracking the sound barrier to seize the fleeing child's left foot. With a vicious yank she hurled his light body over her head in a ninja's full body throw, stoically ignoring the fist which slammed into her cheekbone, snapping her head back. Grimly she tackled the flailing martial artist to the ground, absorbing as many of the strikes as she could.

One of Buddhist monks groaned audibly as the increased distance between his mind and the focus of its attention was increased to breaking point. As he felt the inevitable signs of the established mental bonds slipping, a voice barked harshly across the room. "SEIZE HIM!"

As one Kinaro and Hitoshi joined the fighting ninja master and hurled themselves bodily into the fray. Slipping underneath the group, Maya bunched the muscles of her thighs and released a double kick to the boy's abdomen, keeping feet flat to minimize the damage. Weeping at the denied freedom, Ranma was thrown in a returning arc into the centre of the circle where the exhausted priests hurriedly restored the barriers. Saving enough energy for a weak whisper, he murmured to Kogara, "That was almost too far."

Kogara nodded grimly, then looked towards the other Buddhists. In a voice hardened as tempered steel, he commanded, "Increase the pain - that should be sufficient keep Ranma still." The priests' hesitation only served for a repetition of the order. "Increase the fear NOW!"

Nodding, the Buddhist again closed his eyes, doing as he was bid. An instant later, the tortured child reeled as if pounded by a physical blow, and unthinkingly curled into a fetal ball. The cat had grown to surround him, and was immersing deep within his mind, sifting through his brain like a hot knife in butter. Ranma could do nothing but gibber incoherently as his mind was slowly broken apart. After only a short moment, the weak boy was drowned in his own personal oblivion.

The priests continued their terrible work - three holding the barriers, two holding the fear, and one fighting the Nekoken.

And within that morning the innocence of childhood was crushed.

************ 

Genma Saotome was at this moment very unsure of himself. He had spent the entire day in the Tendo residence, eventually meeting the other family members as they returned from school, and having to repeat his own story several times - simplified for children to comprehend. In the hours of listening to his babbling friend, deciphering the words from the weeping he had come upon terrible news as well. It was impossible to imagine such an awful tragedy - the sprightly active and ever cheerful woman that was Tendo's Soun's wife was…was…. It was better not to think of it now. Inevitably Genma attention wandered over to his own wife - now more than ever he sorely missed her. The old Saotome would have sacrificed much for her support and guidance (dealing with this sort of thing had always been her prerogative), but his life wasn't on that list.

And now what to do? He resisted the instinctive urge to just simply run; although that remedy had worked remarkably well in the past he couldn't abandon his friend - not old Soun, not after all they had been through together.

Fine then, he had to admit that he hated the crying man a little for putting him in such a difficult position. The family was in tatters, the father oblivious to the world, their life savings being slowly but surely sapped away, and the children being forced harshly into reality. Eleven year old Kasumi had been serving as the keystone for the past year, balancing school with the never ending tasks of the house - cooking, cleaning, caring for a useless father and her dependent younger sisters. Every day she was up at dawn to dress and prepare the morning meals, as well as bento lunches for the girls. Whilst other children her age ate together and played contentedly during the lunch break she was dashing home to cook lunch for father, eat her own, and dash back all in the space of half-an-hour or so. School's end at three o'clock would see her heading toward the market for daily supplies, then back home for dinner. Mother's personally handwritten cookbook had become Kasumi's proverbial bible, and it wrenched the heart to see exact duplications of the meals which Kimiko had prepared arrayed at the table. With the dinnertime completed, the weary girl would be left to wash up, clean up and finally be ready for bath and bed. It was a daily cycle which had been perfected by months of repetition.

But despite her incredible perseverance and inner strength Kasumi was only too eager to forgo the burdensome responsibility of running the family to a proper adult. Genma couldn't really resent her for immediately latching onto his guidance (though he was cursing the God of ill fortune heavily enough) once it had been established just how the Saotome patriarch was related to her own father. It was amazing enough that she had taken up the role of 'mother' at such an inexperienced age, Genma couldn't possibly see it within the scope of any human being to be holding a house of four whilst attending final year of preparatory school.

And the fact that there were two other children only made the burden heavier. Little Akane was only eight (the same age as his own stupid boy he thought sourly), young enough to be somewhat confused by the entire situation, but old enough to understand that she would never see her own mother again. She had thrown herself into the martial arts, practicing what little Soun had taught her, and almost desperately trying to create new forms to master. According to Kasumi, at the time of Genma's arrival she had still been at prep. school - but once home she would straight away be secluded in the family dojo, only leaving for dinner, bathing and sleeping. As such this was presumably where the eight year old was currently located. Genma considered disgustedly that without any motivation whatsoever, Akane had displayed a greater devotion to the Anything Goes art than his own son. She didn't even need a teacher to show her the way of a true martial artist - all this from a girl too. Granted a year of training without guidance had weakened her form, but Genma was more than ready to alter that - as was his duty as the Mutsabeto Kakuto sensei. With Ranma off to his own devices, maybe the Anything Goes teacher could make up for the absence by training Soun's child instead. And given the devotion she apparently possessed to Anything Goes, Genma could envision a time when she reached an heir standard. Then the boy would really regret abandoning his own father.

Of course, there was the last child, Nabiki, the middle Tendo daughter. She was neither a martial artist nor a homemaker. Actually Genma wasn't quite sure what to make of her. With the other children displaying such inner strength and resourcefulness, he had taken it for granted that Nabiki would herself have some special talent to throw herself into. But it appeared that the nine year old had reacted to the family tragedy by withdrawing into herself. Of the three children, she had regarded this new visitor's arrival with the most suspicion, and had been loathe to lower her guard.

Kasumi had mentioned that young Nabiki did display a fine head for numbers, certainly far beyond children her age - but unfortunately Genma has little appreciation for such talents (he had little appreciation for anything that didn’t relate to food or martial arts). She had taken it upon herself to manage the family finances, although there wasn't currently much involved - just a daily subtraction of money from a depleting lump sum. With old Soun giving up his teaching at the dojo (Soun had given up virtually everything save for smoking and the basic bodily functions), there was absolutely no income for which the family could survive on. After finally accepting Genma's presence, Nabiki had silently handed him a slip of paper upon which was written a date - some four years and two months into the future.

Despite his ineptness with financial matters, even Genma had understood what the date signified. At their current rationed expenditure (Nabiki had even provided her elder sister with a spending budget), the Tendo savings would be dry in four years time. Left with the weary Saotome was the unvoiced expectation that he do something about that.

Genma clutched his head in a vain attempt to destroy the headache that was hammering at his brain. This was too much to deal with - responsibilities, duties, work…. - too much. It would have been infinitely better (easier) to have stuck to the road. So much for hot baths and rest.

He annoyedly turned to his friend. Soun had still not left off the wailing and weeping since Genma had arrived, and no matter how much the old Saotome could sympathise with the loss, something had to give. For the sake of his own family, the Tendo father couldn't be allowed the luxury of self-pity any longer.

"For heaven's sake Tendo you have to snap yourself out of this! What would Kimiko say if she saw how weak you were acting while your own family falls apart around you?"

The grieving husband raised blood red eyes to the man who had dared to utter his beloved's name. "H-how DARE you!" he almost shrieked, seizing his old friend by the collar of his white gi and shaking the bald headed martial artist furiously. "How can you be so cruel to me? My d-dear wife. S-she's gone I tell you…. GONE!!" Soun weakly released his companion. "Gone forever," he added with a sob.

Genma knew himself well enough to recognise that he was certainly not the best individual to approach on matters of emotion, so he tried logic. "Soun my old friend, you can't keep like this - your own daughter has to cook and clean for you." He tried a harder line, "It's a disgrace to the Tendo line, that it's patriarch be so weak in the face of trials. For the sake of your own children you must be strong."

But Soun was unapproachable. He continued to wail about his loss - honour be damned he wanted his wife back. Ambiently Genma wondered if he would behave in such a manner if his own Nodoka were to….ahh, best not to think of that. Frustrated with the lack of headway, Genma raised his open palm and dealt out a swift backhanded slap.

Stunned, the weeping Tendo raised a shaking hand to his reddening cheek. Despite his whispering volume, Genma's tone was fierce, "Continue to cry like a baby if you must Tendo, but like it or not Kimiko is NOT coming back to you." He ignored the reflexive cringe. "She isn't here with us any longer, but your own daughters - her daughters - are. Kasumi herself is many time stronger than you."

Genma stood to leave. He truly hated to be so cruel to his old friend, but it was for the best. "Tendo, it has been a year - you keep acting like this and you disgrace your wife's memory. And the Soun Tendo I know would never do such a thing." So saying, Genma swiftly left the room, firmly closing the door behind him.

Soun was left staring horrified at his own hands.

Disgraced.

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

Meyah wiped her eyes exhaustedly. Her body was wracked with the strain of overtaxed nerves and emotions, as well as the several aching bruises where her own son had inadvertently struck her. Ranma had been subjected to five hours - five entire hours before Kagora had thankfully called a halt to the cleansing.

"Ranma gets fifteen minutes - no longer. Then we begin again. See to his injuries and perhaps feed him if he awakens." Without another word her father left the dojo. For the first time in her life Meyah truly despised him - hated him because of his hardness, hated him because he was merciless, but most of all she hated Kogara because he was right.

"Oh my son, forgive what must be done to you," she whispered to her unconscious child. It was unlikely that Ranma might even stir within the next fifteen minutes - the cleansing having drained him totally. Resolutely, Meyah set about tending to her child, siphoning off her own chi to fuel his own depleted reserves. As well, she did her best to clean him up - the poor child had unconsciously wet himself in the throes of fear. Hurriedly, his mother set about changing his soiled kung fu pants.

And in fifteen minutes, the boy was cruelly dragged from his paradise of the comatose state, and tortured once more.

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

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

Iyarasora Lano fretted anxiously for his friend. Like virtually everyone on the compound, not to mention some of the locals as well, he had heard the anguished screaming which had permeated the ancient walls of the clan house for several long minutes. That had been five days ago, and the fact that Ranma had not been seen by anyone, least of all himself since that event left the young Korean very concerned indeed.

Now, as it had been for a while, life had returned to a semblance of normalcy. It had been quickly established that for unknown reasons, the zone surrounding Master Kagora's dojo was strictly off limits to all people save for the masters, who had been observed occasionally moving to and fro from the building. The rule notwithstanding Lano had taken his spare time before and after daily lessons and training to loiter as near to the dojo as lawfully possible - without Ranma he had nothing better to do in any case. Consultation of Master Meyah had resulted in only tight lipped hasty half-responses designed to sidestep the issue entirely.

Lano wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried that nothing untoward had occurred since that day of the tormented shrieking. Indeed if anything the dojo was unusually silent considering that most of the Clan's highest ranking members were present at some stage within its walls. Glancing at his watch, Lano arose from his sitting position near the fountain to leave for today's weapon's session. He still learned much from the training, but it wasn't the same without somebody to spar with - even if that somebody continually beat him. Now, without the great Ranma Saotome to grace their presence Lano had assumed the temporary position of best in the year group.

No, without good ol' Ranma, things definitely weren't the same. Lano reluctantly turned to leave.

***********

That same night, Meyah was silently turning her futon over before rest, trying to ignore the gnawing absence of a certain pigtailed boy performing his nightly practices of the katas learned that day. Ranma now 'slept', for want of a better term in the dojo - though it was a poor comparison. Since the first day, he had turned into a virtual zombie, as unresponsive in awakened state as he was when comatose. The fear was still there, always present in his eyes, but the broken child had apparently lost the will to fight it - lost the will to do anything other than hide from the awful reality. Meyah had even needed to close his eyes with her fingers to prevent them from drying out - her child never so much as blinked to indicate signs of life.

Thankfully, the boy still appeared to have automated responses to offered food and drink, saving his guardians the pitiful task of pre-mashing his meals. Meyah had done all she could with her healing powers to restore the physical signs of the mental draining, but to heal the boy within was outside her scope. Rishoto had assured her that what little good effect she appeared to have on Ranma was infinitely more than any previous Nekoken victims had enjoyed - and thus his chances of survival were that much higher.

"You seem preoccupied tonight."

As always she did not need to turn to identify the speaker who had entered her room undetected. With a tinge of bitterness, she responded, "More so than usual?" Softening her tone she continued, "I am just contemplating if all this is truly worth it."

"What? To give Ranma the freedom to roam about society as he pleases? It is a worthy reward for the price he pays now."

"A price so heavy that he may never live to enjoy its reward." she countered.

Kogara sighed heavily, "Yes, there is that."

Meyah decided that now was the time to deal with a question that had been nagging her since this entire episode. "Father, how many cleansings have you participated in?"

The aged master eyed her intently. "With this latest case, three." He paused in consideration, "And do you know what the worst factor of having witnessed so many Nekoken victims is?"

 Meyah said nothing, but merely waited for him to continue.

"Every time, it is just a little easier to watch the pain." He seemed to straighten in resolve. "Daughter, do you recall the last time that we sparred together?" he was unsurprised at her negative response - it had been years in the least. "Come now, I think we both need to work some energy off."

Without comment, kohai followed sensei into the meditation glade.

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

Genma silently surveyed the family room of the Tendo residence. It was Saturday night, and Kasumi was off in the kitchen whipping up some chocolate chip cookies. Nabiki appeared to be absorbed in some manga comic book (Genma wasn't entirely sure about its genre - he had given up trying to understand them after the second page on giant robots), and Akane was as usual sparring invisible opponents in the dojo. In a week, the Saotome patriarch had managed to coax his friend out of the self-imposed shell of misery - at least somewhat - they were now engaged in a friendly game of shogi. It seemed that the familiarities of alternating between cheating and distraction had cheered the widower up, reminding him of the 'good ol' days'. Although, Genma dryly considered, the old days with the Master were perhaps not the ones he particularly wished to remember.

Looking back to the board, the bald martial artist cursed himself for his inattention - mysteriously his half of the shogi table had turned very much whiter in the past few seconds. Soun was of course looking off to one side, whistling an innocent ditty which fooled nobody. Sighing in defeat, Genma stood up from his cross legged squat. "Looks like you win again Tendo - I think I'll go over to see how your daughter's holding up with that new kata." As if struck by a new thought he added, "Why don't you come along and see how young Akane is improving?"

Soun appeared ready to accept the invitation but something halted him. "Saotome my old friend, I-I can't…not yet. She reminds me too much of my dear Kimiko…please, I need more time." His pleading eyes begged his companion to let the issue drop.

Genma shoulders sagged glumly - at least old Soun could say his wife's name without bursting into tears. Slapping his sitting friend on the back he wordlessly moved off to the dojo. "Father!", a cheerful young voice called out. "The cookies are ready. Would you like to try some?"

Soun looked down at the tasty array of freshly baked chocolate chip sweets laid upon a platter. Just like how Kimiko used to make them. Smiling weakly for the benefit of his daughter's hopeful expression, he murmured, "T-they're delightful Kasumi - of course I'll have some." Their rich aroma drew him back to the days when….No! Genma was right, he had to stop thinking like that. He sighed despondently once Kasumi's back was turned - it seemed that everything reminded him of the past nowadays.

***********

"No Akane, extend your right foot higher - like this." Genma promptly demonstrated with a swift reverse foot strike at the dummy's shoulder. "A girl you may be but that is no excuse for laziness in your attacks."

"Sorry Uncle Saotome," the young child's head drooped in self-recrimination. Try as he might Genma was unable to summon the proper stern tonality required for proper training as he had done so for his own son - not when Akane displayed that wilted expression like a kicked puppy.

"Come now Akane, the true martial artist does not give up when things get tough. He…ah I mean she will just try all the harder until the form is perfected. And you ARE a true martial artist are you not?" There, that was the best solemnity he could manage.

Steeling herself Akane nodded furiously - no one would dare to doubt her as a martial artist. So swearing, she again pivoted on her left foot, jabbing at the dummy with her right. The kick swung high, clipping the straw doll's imaginary ear, but before Genma could comment, the determined girl had already reset her position and performed the kick again…..and again….and again.

Genma nodded his approval. This was the way of the true martial artist.

***********

On another island of Japan, another pair were practicing their art - though of a totally different style, and perhaps a much higher calibre. Meyah slid along the rough ground, the bracer on her calf absorbing most of the shock, to twist her shoulder allowing for the required leverage for a double swing with her bokkens at the more vulnerable thighs. In response her sensei inverted himself and temporarily rested his entire weight on the left hand. Both sai were transferred to the right to catch the arcing wooden blades in a vice. Releasing his left hand, Kogara rolled back to upright, hoping that the twisting motion would break Meyah's hold on her bokken.

Of course this was not to be. Meyah merely rolled with him and pressed forward - sliding her blade forwards through the vice and coming perilously close to shaving off her master's nose. Grinning with the euphoria of combat. Kogara jumped into the air, hauling his student bodily with him, and taking advantage of her short loss of control, kneed her in the belly. Meyah flipped back as the breath escaped her lungs in a violent whoosh - and as such she barely raised her guard in time to meet his finishing stroke to her neck. Kicking out with both feet simultaneously, whilst driving her bokken tips into the soil to prevent an unceremonious landing on her bottom she gained a precious half-second as her sensei darted back to avoid the strikes. Using her blades as leverage, Meyah jerked back into a ready position, pulling the weapons free with the same movement.

Breathing heavily from the exertion, Kogara commented teasingly, "You're getting slow Kohai - I almost had you there."

Matching his tone she countered, "Now now old man you'll grow senile giving yourself gas like that."

"Insolent child." Kogara mocked chided before slipping the loop of an elastic cord attached to his wrist around the haft of the sai. With a lightning swipe he hurled the wooden practice dagger point first towards his opponent, offsetting its course slightly to counter her expected dodge. Meyah winced in pain as the blade cracked the air uncomfortably close to her ear. Her response was a complex weave with her wooden katanas, making use of her superior reach to force her attacker back. With a speed which defied logic she alternated between parrying and slashing, breaking sound at every shift in movement. But Kogara too was no slouch to speed, and fought back in kind.

Life for the pair became a complex and very deadly dance. Every strike was dodged or turned aside, every parry answered by a counter thrust. Weaving in an about the boles of the meditation glade, it would take only one single error - a slight misstep - to end the battle. Kogara mused ambiently as he fought - they were avoiding using the special techniques, and obviously the deadlier array of ninjitsu combinations - but the battle was vigorous enough. Meyah's knowledge of shiatsu from her healing background was a definite bonus in her favour - every strike became a potential disabler, and the effort involved in dodging every point jab as opposed to simply blocking was taking its toll. As well, she was wielding her favourite choice of weapons - and wielding them very well indeed. As with most ninja battles, all it would take was one error and the outcome would be finalised.

Thought during combat distracted the ninja master, and thus that critical error came about when Kogara measured himself for a cross strike with his left sai - and missed. Overextended, he whipped the other sai forward to offset the loss of balance, but was left hanging for his opponent's downward slice - which did not miss. Gasping in pain as Meyah's hilt struck a shiatsu nerve in his wrist, the aged master was unable to control the reflexive opening of his left hand to drop the dagger. Desperately he grabbed at the offending bokken, seeking to topple his daughter. Meyah merely abandoned her weapon, instead returning for a second slash with her other bokken to slap her father in the belly with the flat. Bent double and winded, Kogara was unable to stop his daughter as she deftly flipped him like a pancake.

When senses had returned to the correct orientation, Meyah was already standing before him, bokken tip lightly resting against the ball of his throat. In a rare show of humour, Kogara mock wailed, "Oh my daughter, why hast thou forsaken your poor feeble father?"

Meyah tried to suppress her laughter, and failed. Giddy with the relief and energy of battle, she smirked, "Poor and feeble indeed."

"Now don't we feel much better now?" Kogara queried pleasantly as he swiftly righted himself.

Meyah's face fell. "All good things must come to an end." It didn't feel proper to enjoy happiness when her son was unable to.

Her father nodded, "So it seems." As one they glided out of the glade, returning to Meyah's quarters. Kogara was the first to break the brooding silence. "Meyah, have you ever wondered why you are the sole person who can approach me without detection?"

There was a hesitation as she dwelt on that. "I always assumed it was because you trained me as a shadow warrior yourself from my infancy."

"I have trained many ninjas Meyah, some from their childhood as well."

Silence again reigned as she considered this. When at last she did speak her voice was studiously neutral. "As far as I am aware, the Nekoken cannot be genetically inherited."

Bemused, the ninjas master commented, "Right and wrong. The Nekoken is indeed not genetic - but that isn't to say that it cannot be inherited - at least a small portion of its essence."

They reached the junction where Kogara would turn off to his own rooms. "Rest easy Meyah - we still have an arduous journey before us." So saying, he silently disappeared into the gloom of night, leaving his daughter to ponder on his words.

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

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

Yes, another seven days, and still the cleansing continued. Kogara was right - time did soften the impact of watching the ritual, and Meyah was not grateful for the relief in any way. Oddly enough it seemed a betrayal, that her son be forced to continually endure whilst all those around him slowly returned to a sense of pseudo-normalcy. Blankly, she watched her child, curled up in the centre of the dojo floor - the only life signs being a constant shivering. Since Ranma had shown no further signs of resistance since the second day, his ninja guardians had been reduced to four. Currently, it was Maya, herself and two of the others. The priests as well had been exchanged some days earlier, but aside form the change of face there was little difference.

A few minutes later and one of them - a Shintoists - stirred and opened weary eyes. Gesturing to Meyah, he murmured, "you can care for the boy now - we will begin again in an hour."

The sword master automatically knelt before a waiting platter of food, and patiently began to spoon feed it to the boy. Ranma accepted the proffered nourishment without so much as a blink - his mouth alternating between chewing and swallowing whilst the eyes stared blankly into space. This is what it must be to feed some aged person weakened into a vegetable. Except that her patient's features were still fresh from the vigour of youth. This was a saddening change from his normal guzzling inhalation of her meals.

Once the child was finished, Meyah placed the bowl to one side, and gently patted down his face with a damp towel, closing his bright eyes in the process. A compassionately warm voice commented from behind. "It is such a terrible tragedy to have to do this to the poor boy." Meyah turned to see one of the Buddhists - the mind weaver, smiling mournfully at her.

"How goes the progress with the Nekoken?" Unspoken was the question of how much longer the cleansing would take.

The priest clasped aged hands over his eyes in fatigue. "It can be likened to holding back a flood with a fishing net. I work to unravel the curse's hold upon the child's mind, but it fights me - very vigorously indeed." Seeing her despondent gaze, he hastened to add, "but I do make progress. Slowly but very surely I am winning."

"How long?"

He paused, "With perseverance, a few more days - his mind is unique - after about a week it seemed that Ranma, despite his terror realised what we were trying to achieve. Now he works with us to fight the catfist, pushing the darkness where I can 'get' at it."

"As Master Kogara said, a very strong boy." Meyah couldn't hide the pride in her voice.

"Yes, very strong indeed."

Before the Buddhist returned to his brothers, Meyah caught his sleeve. "Brother Young Lo, I know it is your duty to serve the afflicted, but thank you nonetheless for your tireless efforts. The Shinkasa are fortunate that there are still some in this world who are not reviled by our heritage."

The priest merely nodded before returning to the other priests. He had to refocus his inner chi if the next few hours were to achieve anything.

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

Tendo and Saotome Schools of Martial Arts.

See the Tendo Dojo to arrange for personal lessons.

Below the bold typing were the fine details - addresses, contact numbers and such. Soun reflected with pride at the newly polished dojo floor, refurbished with fresh tatami mats - now all it needed were some new students to use it.

 Young Nabiki had resourcefully seen the rapid distribution of the advertising fliers in and around both her prep. school and Furinkan High (Soun never really queried as to the origins of her 'resourcefulness'). According to her, the high school was a place of constant brawling and battling - so there would presumably be a healthy cadré of boys (and maybe even a few girls) who were looking to gain an upper edge over their rivals. It was hardly befitting for the idealism of martial arts to be training high school students to fight each other, but money was money, and in any case the parents seemed to approve heartily - perhaps it was the hope that a few lessons at the dojo would save the constant doctor's and hospital fees.

In the meantime however, Genma had managed to find a reliable job at the family doctor's clinic, sweeping, cleaning and generally tidying up. Tofu Ono's wages weren't high - he was only fresh out of medical school and could barely afford the costly medical supplies let alone hired help. But seeing the plight of the Tendo family, he had stretched the budget a little to accommodate Genma's income.

The fact that the Saotome patriarch was working at all could be solely attributed to Nabiki. After a few day's of the fat martial artist's residence, she had tallied up a revised weekly expenditure counting the additional costs in hot water, and more importantly - food (Genma's appetite was as healthy as ever). Those calculations completed, she presented the martial artist with a re-adjusted estimation of just when the Tendo savings would be depleted - around one and a half years earlier than previous date.

The somewhat slow witted man had however failed to take the not so subtle hint, and Nabiki had taken it upon herself to convince him of his 'duty' with a combination of budget lists (his own costs of living highlighted) and her most endearing 'please please pretty please' large puppy dog eyes beg. Nabiki had learnt some time past that she was naturally gifted with a very kawaii look - and so she was determined to milk its worth before it disappeared with maturity.

Under the honey sweet onslaught the old Saotome had eventually caved in (he lasted all of half-an-hour) and grudgingly promised to find work of some sorts.

And so, here he was sweeping sand off the sidewalk - a low sinking for an Anything Goes practitioner. Soun had better be grateful for the humiliation that his friend was enduring performing this menial labour.

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

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

The end, when it finally arrived caught Meyah totally by surprise - so unobtrusive it was. At 2:10 in the afternoon she had been meditating in the dojo, awaiting the next resting session. At 2:11, Young Lo had stood and stated without fanfare, "It is done."

There was a shocked silence. "Ahhh, pardon me brother Young Lo?" Kinaro broke the quiet.

"The cleansing, it is finished….Ranma is cured." The priest couldn't hide his relieved smile.

Meyah looked to her son - he was curled up as before, unresponsive to the environment. No signs, no change, no nothing. "So what now?" The sword master felt acutely disappointed - after all that they, and especially Ranma had endured she had somehow expected something more.

 "We wait, and hope Ranma returns to us." As always Master Kogara had sneaked into his dojo unnoticed by any.

His daughter detected the grimness in his voice, "Hope? Is that all? Shouldn't he be cured? I thought…"

The ninja master cut her off, "Ranma is cured yes, but he is also terribly traumatised - it is not an easy task to suddenly return to the real world after it has tortured you so relentlessly. All we do now is wait." Turning to the priests, he continued, "Brothers, once more the Shinkasa are indebted to you and your kindred for all that you have done for us." He spread his arms broadly. "If we may be of any service in the future you need only contact a clan member and we will be ready to respond."

Bemusedly, Young Lo replied, "Yes, even people such as we may come to need your….skills….however for the moment we seek only food and rest before we return to our quarters in Fuchow."

"That you will have, and more." Kogara said, genuinely grateful. "Master Misho has already arranged for you the swiftest possible transport."

As one the priests bowed and lefty the room, albeit clumsily, for all of them were exhausted by the mental strain of the ritual. And in thirty seconds, the days of constant trauma came to an abrupt end.

As she impassionately watched the monks falling out of sight, Meyah softly muttered, "And so without further ado it ends."

Half-amused Kogara commented, "Well, what did you expect, a clash of thunder and lightning by the gods? Ranma has survived the worst of it - now he has but one hurdle to cross."

 Meyah only stared sadly at her huddling child. Silently she gathered him into her arms - she couldn't stand him being in this cursed room any longer than was necessary.

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

Without, the young eight year old appeared devoid of life, but within - the spark of the soul that had been Saotome Ranma was still present, but cowering in the recesses of consciousness.

Where is it? Where is what? The panther of course. And the boy marveled that he could even say the word without hiding. Panther…..tiger……lions…….cat, cat cat cat cat. Absolutely nothing - it was as if a part of him - the phobia had been simply cut away.

But what now? His entire being had been overturned for eternity, and now nothing. The fear was gone, and all that remained was the memory of it - a terrible memory ingrained into his mind such that the boy knew that nothing short of death would cause him to forget it. That was it. Ranma felt cheated - all that suffering, the pain, the torment….too many feelings and not enough words……and for what? Now he could say CAT without cringing. Was that all that Master Kogara and mother had put him through just for that freedom?

It wasn't fair. He had trusted them completely, trusted that when they said he was unable to enter society with the curse there was a real reason for it. What if he had never met the Shinkasa - what then? Pops would just have taken him along until he grew up - eventually they would have gone back to society. So the occasional cat might have terrified him - he might have gone into Nekoken. Other people must have learnt the same technique before, and not be found by the Shinkasa, what would have happened to them?

So many questions, and there weren't any answers here. The confused boy was determined to drag out a story from his sensei - and it had damn well be convincing. Ranma knew he had experienced too much to simply accept reality at face value.

It was then that the young child realised something - where was he? He was very alone, and it was very dark. And just as that realisation dawned that same darkness was suddenly cut by twin rays of blinding light. And before him was mother quietly dabbing at his face with a damp washcloth. Ranma called out to her eagerly, but his mouth refused to obey - in fact everything refused to obey. The frantic boy 'thrashed' about wildly, but nothing. With a furious mental scream of outrage Ranma fought tirelessly for control.

And outside Meyah quietly continued to clean her child's face. When she could bear his hollow stare no longer, the swordmaster gently reached out and closed his eyes once more.

Inside, Ranma vainly called to his mother as darkness once again engulfed him.

***********

***********

"Please Sensei, I haven't seen Ranma in three weeks. I only wanna see him even if he isn't saying anything." Lano had afixed his best pleading look, even though it was unlikely to have any credible effect on a Master.

Meyah decide to relent this one time. The young Korean had been badgering her continually for several days now - even though it had been made clear that Ranma was still as of yet virtually catatonic. It couldn't possibly do any harm to let her son's only friend in to see him - provided of course that Lano held his tongue about Ranma's state to the others. Meyah said as much.

Cheerfully Lano replied, "Gee master I wouldn't tell anyone. Thanks a lot sensei." He was quickly out of sight and in his friend's room before the swordmaster had time to change her mind. Inwardly, Meyah smiled at his motley mix of deference to her rank and casualness of speech. It was small wonder that the two were good friends. That thought jarred her back to the present, causing her to sigh. She would have given much to hear another "Awwww, Mom" or "I'm gonna…" .

Inside Lano was gaping at the transformation of his best friend. Aside from the obvious lack of coherence for which he had been well prepared to expect, Ranma appeared to have lost some weight - and was considerably scruffier despite his mother's best attempts to keep him clean. But it was still the blank gaze which seemed to pass right through the Korean which dominated his appearance. Disappointed, Lano vainly tried talking to his companion. "Geez Ranma you look crap. Com'on you can't stay like this forever." Half-heartedly he added, "you know I'm the best ninja in our age group now - did you really want to let me get away with it?"

Ranma continued to stare impassively forward, totally unreactive. Lano stayed with his friend for a few more minutes before standing up to leave. "I've gotta get to maths class now. I'll drop back in to see ya if your Mom lets me." Offering a light pat on the back, Lano quickly left the room. With his back turned he didn't notice his friend's eyes slowly tracking his departure.

Fight it you weakling! You can't even control your own stupid body - how can you be proper ninja? Everyone wants you back, Master Kagora, Mom, Lano…EVERYONE! What would old 'pops' think? His son finally turned out to be a coward just like he said.

Now that really irked Ranma. He could imagine the old man fuming above him wailing at the gods for having delivered such a pitiful son. "Oh by the heavens why must I have such a wretched heir? Boy you will NEVER be a true martial artist if you continue such foolishness. Are you even a man?"

Damn you Pops, this is all your fault! I swear by everything I will get out of this to live to show you up. Ranma continued to hammer at this own mind, as if by sheer force of will he could summon the power to move himself. But the conscious portion of the brain - long tortured into mindless submission refused to open once more. DAMMIT! It was like battering against a mountain of pillows - he could see them now – Meyah pleading for her son to come back to her, Kagora mourning at the loss of his most ‘promising’ student, even Lano left alone without a friend.

They were all there, imploring him in their own way. Furiously, Ranma tripled his efforts – nearly burning himself away in the fire of intensity. Something gave.

"Mom?" he managed a weakly whispered cry before toppling over unconscious.

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

Tonight it was hot stew and rice for dinner – as it usually was when Genma cooked. Of the entire household, it had been quickly discovered that only Kasumi and himself had any consumer worthy culinary skills. Soun was too used to his wife’s handling of the meals, Nabiki would rather have chocked up the budget by ordering in take out, and Akane – well they had told Akane that she was too young to be ‘playing’ in the kitchen. After the incident with the flammable rice they had considered it far more cost-effective to just isolate the cooking area as a no-go zone.

Years of life on the road had instilled within the old Saotome only a basic variety of cuisine – generally anything cookable in a single fire heated pot – but it was worth it to give the over-worked 11 year old at least a few days off the week for her own time. Kasumi was of course much too polite to ask their guest to cook, but Nabiki had no such qualms, and a few minutes of puppy dog pleading had put Genma in his place.

In any case Saotome's meals weren’t all that bad – if a little plain. Still, he added yet another pointer to the ‘things for which old Soun owes me big time’ list. A true martial artist pottering about in the kitchen indeed.

***********

Ranma abruptly shot upright from his lying position – and then very seriously wished he hadn’t. Groaning melodramatically as only an eight year old could he flopped back to the futon in an effort to stave off the nausea and hammering flooding his brain. But with that ache came the comprehension that to feel pain meant that he could feel his own body - Ranma was no longer prisoner in his form. And just as importantly, he was returned to the world of friends and family.

"Ranma?! You’re awake?" His attempts to lie down were jarringly halted as the boy was enveloped in a furious bear hug. Meyah clutched at her son in a rare show of loving affection, totally unaware at first of his muffled protests concerning his lack of air.

"Mom, I love you too, but I gotta breathe as well!"

Meyah was more than satisfied now - her son had returned to her.

**********

**********

Kogara stared enigmatically at the boy before him - Ranma was indeed returned, but something had died within - that spark of innocent life and flambuoyant happiness had been washed away and replaced by dark serious eyes. In those bright blue eyes, Kogara saw a reflection of himself - the same eyes that stared back at him in the mirror. The aged ninja master wondered if he had appeared thus before his own father after the cleansing. "I would suppose you want to know why we subjected you to all this…..this cleansing."

The boy didn't respond, but the eyes passively waited for the forthcoming explanation. Kogara gestured with his hand that Ranma walk with him around the grounds. "I think it best if I tell you my own story - something which I have never told anyone, not even Meyah." He paused, "I think only one who had suffered in kind, as you have, would truly understand."

There was a long duration of silence as the master composed his thoughts. "When I was six years of age, my father left the family to journey to China. It was just before the World War - the second one that is - and rumours were rife of terrible atrocities being committed by our own soldiers. And so my father, Shinkasa Tohiro travelled with a contingent of our own guard to help our allies there. It wasn't incidentally the first time that the Shinkasa Clan have spilled the blood of Japanese soldiers. In any case that is not of importance. What pertains to this story is that I was left without my established sensei, and my father being the character he was made sure to find a great tutor to continue my training - even though I was so young." He wryly added, "I like to think that there wasn't a more stringent sensei known to the history of martial arts."

Ranma nodded, though he could think of perhaps one other man who would be that obsessed.

"My own mother was a non-combatant, which is rare in our society but not unheard of. She readily accepted that I would be taken on a daily basis with my new tutor to train in the arts. My sensei was an outsider to the Clan but himself was a…..once a very great shadow warrior - injuries gained in his life had hampered his ability to fight in the field. He was just as submerged in the ninjitsu as my father, perhaps even more so because of the fact that he was crippled. And one day he came across in our library the teachings of a very powerful technique, for all combat arts alike that was virtually unstoppable." Kogara certainly didn't need to name it to his kohai.

"In fact that entire area of the library was the reference by which the Clan discovered how to cure the Nekoken - stored mostly for posterity. Unwisely, my sensei chose not to tell anyone of his discovery lest other students my age be given the opportunity to learn it as well."

Ranma knew with that gut instinct what was to follow.

"A few days later - I know not how many - he took me outside of the compound to the northern slopes of this very mountain to begin training. I needn't tell you what that experience was like. But despite my loathing of the pit, I promised myself and him not to tell anyone - so determined was I to be the best - greater than the greatest. I secretly prided myself that I needed not the support of my family to face this daily torment." Here Kogara eyed his student meaningfully. With a certain revulsion, the boy imagined a martial artist so desperate to surpass others as to willingly torture himself.- and somehow it did not seem so unbelievable. He remained mute however.

"Yes, I cannot believe myself even now how foolishly single minded I was and at close to seven years old no less. Finally I mastered the Nekoken - and it was only several days after that when my sensei discovered from the other masters that the Shinkasa had a long history of searching for catfist 'victims' and cleansing them - a history that I was then unaware of." Bitterly he added, "in those days history was only taught to those nine years and older.

And so, my tutor was left at a terrible impasse - by all rights he should have informed the masters of the grievous error, but he greatly feared that my family would seek retribution for my curse, and thus fled without word or reason. I know not what became of him, but for his student, a confused seven year old holding one of the art's most powerful forms with no idea whatsoever on how to use it or what indeed it actually did - well, it was hardly the most motivating time for myself to be deserted by my sensei." At this both paused in their walk - they stood again before the dojo having made a full circuit of the inner courtyard.

"In the end I decided to remain silent about what had occurred - a totally foolhardy decision yes - but I was only seven, and caution ruled above sense." Seeming to shift in attitude he gestured to the entrance, "There's something of great import that you must see."

Ranma warily paced in - his most recent memories of this room were far from pleasant. Set up within was a simple monitor and cassette player. "Up until relatively recently, no Nekoken victim has ever been able to see themselves in their possessed state - but technology permits that now." So saying, Kogara ran the video.

The boy couldn't help but reflexively flinch at the scenario playing before his eyes - a pigtailed boy, eyes wild screaming in terror before the form of a grey house cat. Then as if triggered by an internal switch, the young child suddenly lowered into a four legged stance - hair literally standing on end, eyes glazed by a thin film which rapidly dissipated, extracting the humanity within in its passing. And almost plaintively the boy yowled a bereaved cat cry as if to announce the transformation vocally.

Ranma continued to watch disconsolately as his likeness prowled about before finding comfort in Meyah's arms. As if in justification Kogara murmured, "we were fortunate that you are spiritually exceptionally strong - enough of your former humanity burns through that you still recognise friends and family."

"T-that's human?" Ranma stammered, staring at the purring child nestled in his mother's lap.

"Comparatively? Yes it is very human. Most of the possessed lose their entire concept of their former personalities - essentially they totally immerse themselves in a cat's nature." His last statement was whispered most ominously, "And not all cats like people."

"In any case I think we have seen enough." (Ranma heartily agreed with that). "Returning to our original tale; life more or less returned to normal for me - I trained as always, played with my friends as usual, and I also accompanied my mother on her trips in and around the towns. As a non-combatant she had little to interest her in the clan house, save for the temples and libraries, and relished the time she could spend with her own son - so involved in the arts was he." The old master seemed to wilt a little at that, a reaction not lost on his avid listener.

"On one of these occasions I wandered off a short distance, and found myself isolated in a little cubby hole between two buildings with a common street cat."

Suddenly Ranma knew just where this story was heading, and he didn't like it at all.

"My sensei had said nothing about what effect cats would have for me in the days before he left - although I was aware instinctively that I would always bear a phobia for felines. Even so as a young relatively inexperienced child I was caught totally unprepared for what followed." Kogara seemed to gaze off into nothingness, clearly recalling the memories as they came. "The cat was obviously starving, and in my weak attempts to bat it away I must have angered it - for it scratched me.

As you would know I blacked out there and then - but when I awoke, I very much wished I had remained oblivious to the world - forever. The healer there was kind - but she couldn't possibly be gentle enough to break the news to me. My…..my mother was dead, and so were forty or so other people - twelve later died from their injuries. She would tell me no more than that": The pigtailed boy's visage whitened in shock.

Kogara continued in a monologue so dry it was almost devoid of life. "I was so young and confused I had no idea of what was occurring around me. All I knew was that my mother was dead, my father was far off in another land, and everyone else seemed just as keen to avoid me."

"When father heard the news - that his wife was deceased, and that his son was cursed with the Nekoken - he of course returned immediately. For many days he stayed in seclusion - but when he finally emerged, father told me directly, without embellishment what had happened." For the first time in his long speech Kogara's voice shifted, turning hoarse, filled with long suppressed emotions. "It was and still remains the worst ten minutes of my life - and likely to remain so.

According to the witnesses who had survived, and there were not many, my mother had been drawn from her conversation with a local baker by the sight of her son tearing towards her in a frenzy. She was caught completely unawares - literally one moment her son was at her side as usual and the next moment - well, I will never know, but I think the word 'catfist' never even crossed her mind. She reacted purely on reflex, grabbing me as I passed her - and so I reacted purely on instinct and scratched her." To drive his point home Kogara dropped his hand to the monitor stand which still held the television in the dojo centre, utterly demolishing it. Ranma couldn't help but take a shaky step backwards as he stared in wide eyed horror.

"She died instantly - or as instantly as anyone with four cleaving slashes to their skull could. Her friend the baker was so stunned he could only gape…..but then he tried to stop me from getting away - thinking that I had gone insane. He was right, but I scratched him too. Blood crazed, and totally lost in my possession - things just 'went downhill from there'" Kogara laughed weakly at his awfully ill timed jibe, but there was no humour in it - only supreme bitterness.

"I think I hated my father more than ever at that point. He had irrecoverably destroyed my innocence, my honour, my will to go on - everything. Weeping with confusion, shame and much grief, I demanded to know why he had told me all this. Ignorance would have been such bliss."

"I remember his reply, So that when you experience what is to come, my son, you will ultimately have some acceptance of why it must be so. He began the cleansing that very day." The ninja master seemed to shake himself visibly, as if emerging from a trance. "and even after those terrible weeks - life was never really normal for a very long time. I was isolated and hidden from the public, lest it be revealed that the Shinkasa were still housing the murderous 'killer boy'. The masters conjured up this hash of a tale about having defeated some crazed demon incarnate - they had to lest we lose the trust of the people that the Shinkasa had sworn to protect.

Inevitably I grew older, and eventually returned to society outside the clan - maturity and a teenager's body was sufficient that nobody recognised me for who I once was. The War continued, and with it the chaos of destruction. In time those who were murdered that day were only statistics of the greater number of 'missing persons' following Japan's surrender." Kogara breathed heavily, clearly finished for now.

Ranma was unsure of what to either do or say - his master had suffered the same plight as himself, and oh so very much more. "Master Kagora?, I'm…..I'm sorry."

"What for?" There was really no answer to that. "I only tell you this that you understand why we put you through that agony. Can you accept that and still live on with us?"

The boy nodded determinedly, "Hai sensei."

Kogara nodded his approval. Reaching down he retrieved a steel rod lately from the broken stand. "Then break this."

Of course Ranma knew what his master wanted - but what came as a jolting shock was the fact that he could. The Nekoken - it was already there for the taking. A moment's concentration, a swing, and the rod was fragmented.

"That was very very easy was it not?"

"Hai sensei."

"So easy that at any point in time when you are threatened or otherwise you could simply call up the catfist and use it to full advantage?"

Ranma was halfway through the action of a nod before he realised what he was affirming to. He looked tentatively into his master's inquisitive eyes. A hesitation, then he firmly spoke, "Master Kagora, I swear on my honour that I will never use the Nekoken, except…except when I need it most" (he would have used the phrase 'direst need' but the eight year old wasn't entirely sure if that was correct terminology).

Kogara's gaze never broke. "Kohai, that is not good enough."

Ranma started a little in shock. What more could he possibly want from me?

"Ranma, I trust in your infallible good will and noble disposition" (the boy blushed at that) "and certainly you are not one to fall back on your honour….but….honour holds only a weak control over the heart - a moment of intense anger and all your oaths can be forsworn until it is too late."

The ninja trainee could accept that - but what did the master require for assurance?

"I ask for no oaths or vows. Only this that you mustn't - simply must NOT - ever employ the catfist for anything - not anger, love, hate - other than for the greater good - and only you can be the judge of where that border lies. There are times when it may be used, to cut a pathway, to break a barrier - but to wield the Nekoken against another living being is to court death - and I am not referring to your own. There may be a time, hopefully as far from the present as possible where you may be required to take a life, but I trust that you will do so only in greatest need. At eight years of age Ranma, you must shoulder a greater responsibility than many ever see in a life time - power is not awarded lightly and is lethal in the hands of the unworthy. Never forget that." Kogara's eyes conveyed his paramount solemnity in this.

Ranma returned the seriousness. "I still swear on my life anyway, sensei."

"Very well. It is clear to all that you may be worthy." His tone seemed to lighten. "Go now, and take as many days as you require, then we will begin training again, not so?"

"Hai sensei, but I will start training again tomorrow - Mo…Master Meyah told me already that I have been 'out of action' for two weeks following my cleansing."

"As you wish, Ranma. And thank you as well, for listening to an old man's tale."

The pigtailed boy bowed respectfully and left the dojo. On his way back to Meyah's quarters he snorted, old man indeed.

Behind him, Kogara watched the slowly disappearing form of his kohai. For the first time in many long weeks, he smiled faintly.

*********

When Ranma arrived back at his own bedroom Meyah was nowhere to be found. Welcoming the solitude for the moment he headed unerringly to a small cupola under the stairway to the upstair's storage rooms. There hidden from sight, and kept mostly freed of dust by the low roof was a large, (compared to the himself at least) ruggedly constructed backpack of toughened waterproof canvas.

It was his backpack, from the past days of constant wandering with father. Months ago, when his place at the Clan had been firmly established, an expedition of two ninjas was sent out on a relatively minor night errand to collect this pack and a few other minor belongings from a slumbering Saotome Genma (they had knocked him out of commission). Although in reality Ranma had no material usage of any of the possessions contained within, he kept the pack mostly for posterity's sake - and in any case it was assumed that his father would probably have discarded it after a month or two.

Untying the rope which closed the top flap, the boy methodically began the process of unpacking the contents, neatly laying out each item on the limited floor space under the stairwell. First came a series of old clothing - a white gi, another white gi, a bundle of boxer shorts, yet another gi - then finally the current target of his interest.

It was perhaps the only fine piece of fabric in the pigtailed boy's entire collection of belongings preceding his new home - a red silken cloth within which was stored the mementos gathered over the years. Of course there weren't many - he was still young, and it was impractical to carry anything more than basic necessities anyway. However what little he maintained were well remembered - needing no memory jogging labels - even though some were considered worthless in material value. A chip of plankwood from the first block he smashed with his bare hands; the tanto dagger bearing the Saotome family crest upon its pommel (somehow though he felt a little discomforted at the thought of still carrying the heirloom despite the change in situation); a pebble taken from the cliffs at Soya-Misaki - the northernmost point of Japan; a small, hardened steel spatula.

Ranma paused in his perusal at that last item - it brought back distant memories. Upon the flat of the cooking utensil was carved the kanji for 'Wild' - the first character of his own name, followed by the diminutive 'chan'.

Ranchan - the teasing pet name which his old friend Ukyou had given him. Flipping the spatula over, the pigtailed trainee noted the kanji laboriously etched into the smooth steel surface - 'Ucchan'. Yeah, Ukyou was a good buddy. Absently he wondered what had become of the erstwhile okonomiyaki chef to be.

Coming back to the present, Ranma returned the spatula to the silken bundle, and then withdrew another trinket from his back pocket - adding it to the memento collection. It was a fragmented shard of steel piping which had once formed a support leg of a television stand until a recent master of the Nekoken had shattered it. This was to be his reminder - of the oath made to Master Kogara and more importantly to himself.

With no further reminiscence the young child hastily repacked the scattered items to his old backpack, and once again placing the canvas bag within the cupola. It was drawing late into the night and he still had much to do….or practice. Once the area was tidied and the stair closet closed, the ninja trainee swiftly turned and glided to his own bedroom.

His sharp eyes however immediately detected twin glints of moonlight reflected upon polished metal. Tensing himself reflexively for an assault, Ranma melted as best as he could into the available shadows. After a few intense seconds it became clear that there was nobody in the room.

Cautiously, the boy floated up to his futon, to see two unsheathed blades - katanas in fact. But more importantly, he recognised them as Meyah's own, probably her most prized material possessions - the same katanas that she had wielded on their very first weapons session. Reverently, the ninja trainee raised one of the razor sharp blades to his face, inspecting its every curve and temper point. Flawless. Clasped even in his child's grip, the ancient tools were no longer weapons but merely razor extensions of his body - and Ranma was uncannily familiar with wielding razor cutters.

After several minutes of experimental katas with the surprisingly light weapons, Ranma reluctantly resheathed his mother's katanas and returned them to her room. He knew not why she had left them for him to see, but nonetheless such perfectly forged blades had no place in training. Returning to his rooms, the boy retrieved his own wooden bokkens, feeling the familiar grip of their leather handles, and stepped out to the glade to practice. He needed some work very badly to catch up on lost time - and Nekoken master or not, Ranma was still Kogara's heir - an honour he had to earn to be worthy.

**********

Meyah returned to her rooms after her own quiet walk along the compound palisade. She fervently hoped that Ranma's interlude with her father had perhaps rejuvenated the boy a little - on his leaving he seemed so very serious and destitute - a solemnity far outweighing his child's age.

She at once noticed the return of her grandfather's katanas, and the absence of Ranma's own wooden practice swords. Noiselessly she wafted to the meditation glade entrance and silently beheld her son, once again sparring amongst the boles.

She remained unnoticed for an entire two seconds before he abruptly halted and turned to her. "Mom?"

"You heard me," her reply was neither question nor statement.

For a precious moment his eyes seemed ageless. "I can hear lotsa things now - just like you Mom."

"Lots of" she whispered in correction.

He smiled impishly, the last trace of the old carefree Ranma, but that was quickly extinguished in a more hidden smile - so very much like her own father. "I know Mom, I have to improve my speech." Abruptly he changed topics, "Can we start training again tomorrow?"

She was mildly surprised at that query. "If you so wish, but there isn't any rush."

"I wanna…want TO…start anyway."

She smiled warmly, "very well, but keep practicing now - I want to observe your form."

Wordlessly Ranma reverted to the kata she had instructed him in all those weeks ago. As he flowed, her smile widened - Ranma may have been changed from the boy she had known, but at least he was back - and for that she loved him all the more.

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

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My god that was long - at least for me. It seems that my writing is getting more and more extensive as I mature. Alright, now some of you may or may not be wondering if I have been wandering off the topic - I assure you I have not, and everything is flowing nicely - I just like detail that's all. If some of you think I'm being too pedantic email me with C&C (of course if you love my work [hee hee] I'd welcome that even more). Be prepared for a large jump in time for the next chapter - where we find out more about Ranma's future.

Or email at dojohouse@xoommail.com 

Things to note.

As far as I can see there aren't any unknown Japanese translations required here. However for all you skeptics out there, I have done my homework and not ALL ninja clans were evil kinevil (eg, Kamiokara of the pre-Meji restoration period). So I am not buttering up the Shinkasa Clan just to make them look like the goody goodies. This is however a work of fiction and I accept no ethical flames about how I am supporting the Yakuza or murder, mayhem, poisoning etc.

As well, I change the set thesis laid out by Takahashi as suits my series - this is an alternate universe so certain factors (eg. the nekoken's nature) may be altered.