Kuonji Ukyou stared at the bus clock intently. The closer he neared to his chosen destination, the fewer options there were for transportation. Three days. Yes, he couldn't believe that it would take so long to get anywhere in Japan - not with the country's relatively state of the art technology. At this current point in time the young martial artist was sitting rather uncomfortably in 'route section 494C' - apparently the only mechanised way to reach the Yamakaro district. By all reports these somewhat rustic townships enjoyed their privacy.

Still, it was as fast as manageable - and thus one had to be satisfied. Given favourable luck Ukyou very well expected to be wandering through Hashima within another day or two. He had been waiting ten years - a few days were as nothing.

Ten years, and it had gone so very slowly. Ten years of constant training in the Kuonji martial arts, the intricacies of okonomiyaki. Ten years in the daily ritual of being a boy……he winced at that last thought - it was jarring to still be reminded of the past. It was days like this, days when there was naught to do but sit still and philosophise that the young Kuonji was reminded of his…….no her…true heritage. To be born a female seemed so pointless at times - your freedom was automatically diminished from the moment of life, you were burdened with the social stigma of always being second in line to the resident male; and of course, as a girl one had only the right to be rejected, not to reject. And yes, Ukyou was well versed in the emotive drives of rejection. Absently she thought back to an old Chinese proverb her father had once taught her. When you are young you follow your father; when you are married you follow your husband; when you are old you follow your son. Of course in modern society one liked to believe that such mentalities were ways of a long and forgotten past - but to one such as the Kuonji daughter they held a poignant realism.

To a son however, all these hardships just seemed to melt away. Never mind the additional hardships incurred with such a life - having to board in a boy's school, running your voice hoarse with the constant deep speech of a male, and lately binding her breasts flat. It was annoying that puberty had chosen to argue so vehemently with social requirements. After a while it was no longer an act, but simply natural reaction. Examining herself from afar, Ukyou could almost laugh bitterly - she must seem rightly ridiculous to outsider eyes with such antics.

The jolt as the front wheel of the vehicle passed over a rut brought him back to reality. Once again he was Kuonji Ukyou - the dishonoured heir to Clan Kuonji.

And Kuonji Ukyou had a mission to complete - regardless of personal feelings.

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

"Now Ranma, we simply have to find another outfit for you to wear."

The recipient of her insistence continued to grumble inaudibly under the most unreasonable demands.

"Your chosen clothing combination may do well for the Clan House, and the local populace as well - for they are very much accustomed to the sight of ninjas - but in all frankness you stick out with less tact than the proverbial sore thumb." She stared balefully at his matt black silken Chinese shirt, closed as always by ebony pegs, draping over loose jet kung fu pants.

The teenager took a moment to assess himself from an external perspective. Alright, so his favourite outfit may have been a little dark - but it was loose and very comfortable for all modes of daily life. And besides, Ranma had kept to the style for close to seven years now.

Meyah continued to wait patiently whilst observing the mixed array of emotions play across her son's face. The pair were currently situated in one of Hashima's larger clothing vendors - not that it was particularly extensive itself - for the town was small and only serviced a limited population. However, to the swordmaster's eyes, at the current variety of her kohai's wardrobe virtually anything would do. Lano had once commented that peering into his friend's closet was like sticking one's head into the world's deepest cave with a blindfold and rainbarrel on. That Korean did have a flare for the extravagant.

All the while the pigtailed ninja was rifling aimlessly through the racks of suspended items - ranging from the plainly rustic to garishly flambuoyant. "Too stiff…..too long….too green….ackkk too many flowers."

And then finally, like a floundering man he was saved. "Okay sensei, if I have to wear something different I'll try a few of these." Reluctantly he held outstretched in both hands a pile of crimson red shirts - silken Chinese red shirts tied by natural wooden pegs.

Meyah only barely resisted the temptation to slap her forehead in exasperation.

**********

"My my Ranma, aren't we looking….." Lano paused to find the appropriate word, "festive?"

The pair were currently sitting casually against the western courtyard fountain, enjoying the morning recess - the Korean in one of his standard blue and beige work outfits, and Ranma in his newly acquired getup. Ninjas being ninjas after all, red was an unusual colour for the Shinkasa.

"What's wrong with this? I think it's an okay combination." The ninja trainee was disgruntled enough by the curious stares which had already grown over the morning.

Bemused, his friend replied, "It's just that after all these years when I have grown accustomed to you in the black - the change is rather…….shall we say….glaring?" Seeing Ranma's irritated gaze he hastily added, "It looks fine really. It's just that we'll all take some time getting used to the new look."

Placated for the moment, the teenager sombrely apologised. "I'm just annoyed is all, at all the big fuss. Now that we'll be entering the 'big wide world' the Shinkasa won't have me - and I quote dancing around in black pajamas." Thoughtfully he continued, "at least not in the daytime."

"Yeah, well you gotta admit that the jet shirt and trousers hardly allow you to blend in with the high noon Sun."

Scratching the back of his head, the pigtailed boy grudgingly agreed. "I guess so. But tell me, does the current setup really look alright?"

Serious perhaps for the first time in the conversation, Lano took a moment to truly gauge the entire outlook of his friend. "In truth? It's a good choice." He hesitated a moment. "Somehow red seems to suit you."

"Thanks Lano," Ranma replied appreciatively. It was hard to tell sometimes if his Korean friend was joking or not - but one always knew when he was serious.

The morning signal cut through the air - a bell chime from the temple pagoda, signaling an end to their conversation and the beginning of the next lesson. With mirrored gestures of parting, the pair split up - heading to their respective masters.

**********

Upon arrival at Kagora's dojo, Ranma found himself promptly re-directed to another location - the Shinkasa library. Past experience told him that this was the signal that morning training was cancelled in favour of another discussion of sorts with old Loremaster Rishoto.

That thought induced a rather wistful sigh - Hikarnu Rishoto was an interesting man at times to converse with (when one could understand him), but the change of plans was still a loser when faced with the alternative of testing one's skill against a Shinkasa ninja master. On the positive side a session at the library was still preferable to another mathematics lesson.

His arrival at the chosen destination abruptly returned the teenager to the present. The Shinkasa library was non-descript in most fashions - save that like most of the historic sites of the compound it was substantial in size. Ranma had no idea of how the book collection contained within compared with the standard libraries of Japan - as it was the only credible source for miles around - although Rishoto complained frequently enough at what he saw as 'a decidedly irritating lack of progress in the growth of knowledge and information.'

Stepping through the simple oaken sliding doors, the pigtailed ninja trainee personally felt more than a little overwhelmed by the environment within - as he always did. What the Clan library may have lacked in size, it certainly offset in sheer age and antiquity - three thousand years of steady collection was no small feat, and though knowledge had hardly been the focus of the ninja clan, up to this day Shinkasa maintained some of the oldest works in Japanese history. Silently Ranma drifted through the cramped corridors, breathing in the heavy odour of various preservers which the oldest texts had been coated with to prevent decay. It was this omnipotent aura of ancient solemnity - a hint of a world disappeared in ages past that inspired the ever-present silence of respect. Like all buildings in Shinkasa house, there were no locks and internal security measures - and patrons were free to borrow items with the minimum of fuss.

Checking his watch, Ranma noted the extra time remaining before he was due, and paused to browse around. It was unusual for the combat focused boy to take precious time for the pursuits of the mind - but he found even the simple surroundings of the library a pleasant relaxation. Floating up to a nearby podium, the student gazed intently upon the work lying across the display stand. It was a roughly cut sheet of raw hide, upon which was laboriously inscribed various symbols - to his eyes indecipherable. He refrained from touching the obviously aged text, lest the salt from the mildly moist fingers tarnish the surface.

"It's an extract from one of the older Hindu texts - the Upanishads, written in higher Sanskrit," a somewhat withered voice pleasantly commented from behind.

Ranma turned to see the Loremaster standing halfway down the aisle - the closest possible for the average combatant to reach without sparking off the boy's internal proximity senses. "What is it about Master Rishoto?" he inquired curiously.

"Nothing of consequence really." The reply was almost regretful. "Just some propagandistic exposition on the proper treatment of one's rivals and opponents. We keep it mostly for posterity's sake, as it was one of the few surviving possessions of the Clan five." The last term was a common reference to the founders of Shinkasa.

Ambiently, the pigtailed boy wondered if there was anything in the world that Rishoto did not know. His musings were shortly interrupted by his master's forthcoming command. "Come now Ranma, you have been called here for a final discussion on the mysteries of Jusenkyo, the Amazons…..and virtually anything else of your choice. The expedition is to leave tomorrow afternoon - and thus we have little time to waste on idle chatter."

His listener perked up considerably at the explanation. Ranma was consumed with a myriad of queries - so many mysteries as of yet unanswered by recent events.

And if it was knowledge, Loremaster Rishoto could always be relied upon to deliver.

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

Adroitly donning the traditional armour guard padding, Upperclassman Kuno Tatewaki turned to check the ties efficiently through the wall length mirror. Perfect,  as it always was. Reaching to the dressing stand, he pulled open the well worn samurai's outer garb - overlapping layers of tightly interlocking light wooden plates - placing it over the padding and firmly knotting the side bindings, tight enough to maintain their position, but not so constricting as to hamper performance in battle.

The daily dress now complete, the noble son of an ancient Japanese house paused for the final perusal. Fitting to mine very own centre. Everything about the teenager - his family, his life, his very name - Tatewaki, the long sword - it was all a complete revolution about Bushido and the samurai's way. Long ago, in the olden history of Nippon, Kuno's ruling ancestors adorned themselves in the same attire - in an intricate ritual which had remained virtually unchanged through the years following to the present.

And thus it was for this that Tatewaki, the sole male heir to the Kuno name maintained this ritual in a society in which even he knew that those of the warrior race were a rapidly dying breed - for there was no other to do so, and it was the responsibility of the upperclassmen to set proper examples. Almost reverently he took up the most prized item of all of such stature - the sword.

Actually it was a wooden bokken, for in the 20^th century world of non-combatants, true steel was an unnecessary measure - indeed a possible dishonour to be spilling blood of the helpless. Here, in the Nerima district, oftime considered to be amongst the more violent of zones, Kuno could live up to his reputation in relative supremacy - he was the uncontested greatest amongst the born armed warriors, and like all modern samurai needed not the true katana to demonstrate such vaunted skill. The great Musashi himself had once proclaimed that with two wooden bokkens one could conquer the world, and for the family heir, this was a very easy concept to grasp.

What was perhaps more difficult to seize upon for the boy was an even greater ambition to be relished. For Kuno Tatewaki had discovered both without and within a most marvelous emotive drive which now fueled his daily livelihood - Kuno Sempai had found love.

Yes, she was the pinnacle of womanhood, a warrior born and raised amongst lowly wretched - just as himself. Only she could truly understand the euphoric experience of combat - to feel one's own body driven to the limits of its capabilities, and to defy the petty borders which humankind had imposed upon itself. The lovely Tendo Akane, the unquestioned heir to the Anything Goes School - what better life mate to sit by the side of one such as he to bask in greatness? Everything about her in its entirety - the vibrant flowing of her silken tresses as she gracefully cut through the air as if born to fly; the warrior's fiercely undeniable aggression, that indefatigable will to strive for perfection - it was all that and more than the young samurai had dreamed possible in the dreary reality of the earthly world.

From the very moment he had laid desirous eyes upon the girl, Kuno knew that he would forever be tied in unbreakable bonds to that vision of loveliness - and he was more than glad to be so imprisoned. From every day following, he had stepped forth every morning to offer both his unending love, and a challenge of skills to proclaim it. And on each and every morning she rejected the former and defeated him in the latter.

Kuno minded not both these setbacks, for it only made the prize more worthy in the taking. Indeed, he believed that one could never have fallen so deeply for a lady without such determined spirit. Akane was a fighter in her own way, and stubborn to yield both her precious love and her status as the greatest martial artist. He cared not that she surpassed him in skill, for to be bettered by a warrior goddess was no diminishing of honour. And as homage to her loveliness, the swordsman had vowed to fight on thus - no matter the cost of injury. One day, she would come to know his devotion.

What better vision than to see a samurai and a martial artist joined in the bonds of matrimony? Such a concept was fit only for the man amongst men, and Kuno was only too aware of himself fitting that title. For this, he strove once more this morning to conquer the unconquerable.

So thinking, the young teenager strode purposefully out of his bedroom and eventually through the gates of Kuno mansion toward Furinkan High School. He had a duel to uphold.

**********

"So, where to begin?" Master Rishoto murmured, only half-attentive to his student. Currently the pair were residing in one of the library's several anterooms - bare of furniture, but deemed sufficient for today's lesson. "Why don't we start with the Amazons?"

Ranma was unsure as to whether the question was rhetorical, and merely nodded in agreement. When you didn't know anything, anywhere was a good place to start.

Taking a theatrically large breath, the loremaster began. "Well, for the sake of efficiency I think it best to summarise what you need to know for the purposes of the expedition - the rest may be discussed later at your leisure.

The Amazons are old, my boy, very old. Clan Shinkasa's history dates back nearly three thousand years, but for those people, their own time may stretch back as far as four thousand and more - no one but the matriarchy would really know."

"Master, who or what is the matriarchy?"

"Don't interrupt," the elderly man admonished, perhaps more sternly than intended, "all will be revealed in its proper time. Now as I was saying the Amazons have their roots into antiquity, and as such their society is steeped in long revered traditions. They are a warrior race, and for any youth there is no greater honour than to be accounted for as one of the village fighters. Unlike their other Chinese counterparts however, the Amazons keep to the old style of fighting - swords, staffs, bows and such. In that way they are not unlike ourselves in modern society.

Leading on to your earlier query, this race differs from most groups in that they are ruled under a matriarchy system - and that," he emphasised for effect, "is defined as any politically governmental system whereby one of the primary modes of definition for positions of higher authority is gender - in this case female."

The rather overwhelmed student took several moments to digest the hefty mouthful. "So basically, all the leaders are women."

Somewhat acerbically Rishoto replied, "Yes, basically. Whilst males can hold accolades if they are, for example, exemplary warriors or healers, it is nearly always the females who decide the course of actions. The village of Joketsuzoku - to which you will be journeying to, continues to follow a semi-feudalistic organisation - the population can be divided into different 'families', eight last time I checked - each represented in the ruling council by the eldest female - termed the matriarch. Their council operates in much the same fashion as our own master's council of sixteen - issues are voted upon and majority wins. If a tie is established with no abstentions, then the decision is brought down to the next rank of authority. Each matriarch bears a responsibility to both see to the welfare of her family, and toward the village as a whole - since she is born to the role as leader, and not elected in as our masters are, one can find that a less than judicious matriarch will hold the throne of power." Abruptly, the wizened loremaster cut off the monologue with a most unexpected wheeze, followed by a rapid train of coughing.

Ranma suppressed the reflexive snigger, as he observed old Rishoto pay the price for trying to fit too many words into one breath.

Shooting the boy a darkish look, the teacher continued, "Well, at least that is my opinion - though the Amazons have survived to this day under that form of government, so they must have done something right."

"Hai sensei," said Ranma dubiously, for he was not totally sure how this flood of information would benefit him in the coming months.

As if to answer his unvoiced doubts, Rishoto added, "All this is to provide you with a background to the nature of the populace that you will have to deal with. Most likely any that you encounter of your own age will be themselves in fierce training for positions of stature in the village - especially the women. Trouble them not, for though as a general rule the Amazons are amicable enough to friends, they can make terrible enemies."

The pigtailed teenager nodded firmly, filing that last note for further use. "Sensei, I have been meaning to ask you about Jusenkyo…..and all the shapeshifting and things like that."

"Don't use the word 'thing' - it is most inelegant." Returning to the question, the aged master continued, "There is much I could tell you of the mysteries of Jusenkyo, however….." and the next was spoken with mild irritation, "some of the other masters object to my research into that topic as a 'waste of valuable time'."

"But how do they do it? I never knew such magic was even possible."

Rishoto eyed him with a curious uptilt to his mouth. "What is magic but something you can do that others cannot? For the common people all that roof jumping you are so fond of - which I might add has dented the tiling of my personal abode - is magic. Fueling chi into your limbs is magic for most - but to us precious few it is merely a means towards an ends." He paused in consideration. "And how do you think the scientists of today would view your ability to cut solid steel without even touching it?"

Seeing his kohai's self-recriminating visage, he nodded sagely. "Exactly - and in regards to the mechanics of the cursing, I have not the time nor the patience to explain it. However I can tell you this - until such time as you can control your alternate forms, water temperature will be the activator. I have performed various experiments on the Jusenkyo 'magic' over the years - water hotter than the human body temperature of approximately thirty seven degrees Celsius will restore one's true appearance. Water below will obviously display the spring's form. The head and torso are by far the most sensitive areas to aqua-morphing, although arms and le….."

"Right thanks sensei" Ranma hastily interceded. If allowed, Rishoto could easily lecture the entire morning away, despite his expressed lack of patience. "I was wondering though, if it is so easy to change like that, how come I didn't find out about this sooner? After all, I must have seen Mo….err Master Meyah, splash herself with water many times since I came here."

"Well in reality Ranma, there are relatively very few people who have been 'honoured' with the initiation - at most one or two in every age group - and certainly none of them are ever allowed into this Clan house at Yamakaro before they can reliably control the ability."

There was a lengthy silence as the implications of this sank in. "So that means that after Jusenkyo I won't be returning here?"

"Correct….you will be given the choice of next destination - wherever you see as fit." Seeing his student's worried frown Rishoto added, "What? You did not think the Shinkasa would coop you up for eternity?"

"It's not that sensei….it's just….it's just that I've never really considered a life outside of the house."

The loremaster smiled kindly, "You need not worry - in good time you will know what to do." Leaning forwards, the old man gazed intently into the trainee's eyes. "You have something of more import bothering you it seems."

"Yes." Long experience with the Shinkasa tutor had yielded the understanding that not much in this world escaped Rishoto's attention - no matter his bookworm demeanour. "Master Kagora showed me his alternate form a few days ago, and when I asked him what form I'd be getting - he said that 'fate would decide'. I….I was kinda worried - after all there are plenty of bodies I really don't want to be stuck with."

"Your Master Kagora has a tendency to flair his language a little with mysterious words." Ranma stiffened in surprise - that hardly fitted his own impression of the ninja master. In response to the boy's disbelieving look, Rishoto off-handedly remarked, "Perhaps that was rather extraneous. Suffice it to say that your fate will not be so casually dealt with - there will be measures in place to prevent a disastrous encounter with a detrimental pool."

In view of such ambiguity, the trainee could not help but wonder what the loremaster's definition of 'measures' was in this case. His attention was drawn back to the conversation by the next comment. 

"Now then, we have wasted much precious time - and Master Meyah tells me you are slacking behind in the field of mathematics….no don't groan at me like that. Most children your age would be years ahead."

Despite the master's command, Ranma could not refrain from sighing wearily - it seemed the aged master was determined to follow through with the mental education literally to the very last day.

***********

With a deftness borne of long experience, Akane tossed her schoolbag high catching the flailing shoulder strap upon an outlying tree branch - the same outcrop she used each and every school morning.

"And with the beauty and grace that doth call shame to the very Gods themselves - so too is mine own Tendo Akane poised to meet myself once more in the illustrious field of battle."

"Try not to hold me up too long this time, Kuno Sempai?" the object of his fiercest desires taunted sarcastically. Akane was more than capable of circumventing this daily ritual by means of a few high powered leaps around the amorous samurai - but it was far more satisfying to crunch a few functional body parts to help relieve the morning stress. Added to that, the morning pounding would ensure that he would be physically incapable of troubling her further at least until lunchtime.

"Time hath no meaning whatsoever to the eternally bonded such as we, fair Akane." the rather misguided upperclassman replied - either totally missing the barb, or ignoring it. "The crimson fire of my passion drives me forward into your awaiting arms!" So saying he charged forth.

Tensing slightly in preparation, the Anything Goes artist flipped easily over his initial charge, providing a solid slap to the back of his passing skull for good measure. During flight, she managed to catch an inverted glimpse of her older sister, poised with pen and pad at her traditional window seat on the third floor.

Though this was as reliable an occurrence as Kuno's challenge - today she felt distinctly peeved that Nabiki would once more be taking bets down on the duration of the fight - it seemed to materialise her daily efforts in a most unidealistic way. In the dim past the odds had been marked against who the victor of the battle would be - but after four straight days of unquestionable victory on the Tendo's side - well, nobody was that stupid to try for the pseudo-samurai's luck any further.

So now money changed hands on more rudimentary events - number of punches and/or kicks to down the kendoist, the timespan before he was flattened, and even the number of words he would say between the first and last strikes. Though in reality she had little concern on how anyone viewed the daily morning matches, there was a limit. And thus, with her older sister's ever ticking stopwatch noted in the back of her mind - Akane decided upon loitering a little just this once. Meeting his next charge head on, the youngest Tendo almost callously knocked the wildly gyrating bokken aside and surged forward with a light aerial head kick - insufficient to down Kuno, but enough to keep up appearances.

And from above, Nabiki's rampant stare narrowed dangerously. Her little sister was purposely mucking up literally weeks of well established statistics on combat specifications. The middle Tendo had honed the establishment of such facts and figures down to a very fine art - and it was literally costing her thousands in vital yen by a young girl's petulance. Just for that, she promised herself to offer that nice photo shot of the martial artist in the midst of a very flattering flying drop kick to the currently flailing upperclassman. Neutral mask aside, Nabiki could not help the mercenary gleam that shone through calculating eyes. The amount of healthy cleavage alone exposed in that particular image would more than offset the losses here.

Unknowing of her sister's machinations, Akane continued to effectively work the older fighter over. Despite the punishment he was enduring, Kuno took every free opportunity to offer eloquent phrases in praise of his beauteous assailant. Finally satisfied that sufficient delay had been instrumented, the Anything Goes heir abruptly terminated the duel with a classic lightning short kick - striking the weak point just to the side of the temple. Without so much as a word in deference to her excellent finale, Kuno Tatewaki toppled gracelessly to the hard concrete. Nonchalantly she retrieved her schoolbag and with an incredible (at least to non-combatant eyes) leap, alighted upon the homeroom window sill, pointedly ignoring the miasma of admiring gazes which tracked her arc. Wistful sighs formed an almost audible ripple across the schoolyard front as the vibrant fighter disappeared from view.

Unnoticed amongst her cadré of fans sat a certain bandanna clad boy. As always, sweet Akane's form had been perfect - even in the face of a clearly inferior opponent. Shyly, Ryouga returned her cheery wave of greeting before slumping almost unnoticeably as she returned her intense gaze to the front board.

Friends.

***********

"Greetings kohai," Meyah opened genially. "How were today's lessons?"

"Alright….I guess." Her son reluctantly rubbed at the back of his head. Without the normal dosage of physical training, things just weren't the same. "What are we to learn tonight, sensei?"

"I considered that since this is our last practice session in Shinkasa House for some time yet, we might have a final trial of skill - to see what level of achievement you have reached."

The trainee visibly straightened at the mention of the word 'trial' - to any Clan member that signified an official test - one which would be judged and recorded as an estimation of progress. In short, the next hour or so would be Ranma's opportunity to demonstrate in front of the masters of Shinkasa.

"As always you are free to choose your opponent." Meyah gestured expansively to the six ninjas who had floated in, each bearing the gold bandanna.

Ambiently, the teenager noted that Kagora was amongst the group. Thinking furiously, the pigtailed ninja took several moments to contemplate. Whoever was chosen would receive first hand knowledge of all that he had worked towards. Thus, who would he wish to impress the most - above all others?

"Master Meyah, will you honour me for this trial?"

She allowed herself a briefly warm smile, curiously wondering if any other mother would take such pride in finding the opportunity to 'beat up' her own son. Ignoring the paradox, she intoned formally, "Saotome Ranma, I as Shinkasa swordmaster do accept your challenge."

Without comment, Master Kagora took over the situation. "The area of combat will be the entire western compound. The judges for the trial are Masters Maya, Hitoshi, and myself. Victory assumed when either combatant achieves opportunity for critical strike." That of course was only a ritualistic statement - for both fighters were in little doubt as to who the victor would be.

During his brief explanation of the conditions, both mother and son readied themselves for combat - Meyah merely inverted her gold head band, exposing the jet black underside to the fore. In the fading moonlight, such metallic ornamentations would only serve to mark her out from a distance. On a similar concept, Ranma doffed the newly acquired red silk shirt, revealing his traditional matt Chinese clothing. A further tightening of binding ties, critical checking of chosen weapons - and all was ready.

"Scatter as you will within the accepted boundaries. Battle begins at the next tolling of the temple bell." So stating the ninja master waved them both off. As one, sensei and kohai dashed silently off into the comforting darkness, followed closely by their referees as all took up established zones of observation. Six minutes later, and the hourly temple gong echoed eerily through the cold winter night.

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

By sheer force of will, Ranma steadied his breathing to a barely audible waft that was carried away on the mountain current passing through the floorboards. Though the light of day had disappeared hours ago, there remained a significant number of members who continued to frequent the various buildings in the trial zone. This was part of the test - to be able to positively identify your opponent amongst the 'general' populace.

Dispassionately analysing the situation, the ninja trainee took stock of the situation. It was given that his sensei was his better in almost every aspect of Ninjitsu, especially since he had chosen to fight on her terms - with the katanas. Almost absently, he reached back to touch at the leather bound grips to the wooden blades, somehow comforted by their presence. Yes, definitely his superior - in all except possibly (and only possibly) one factor. As of yet neither Ranma nor his Korean companion had informed anyone of their occasional blind-fighting bouts. He was sure that the masters were aware of their 'extra-curricular' activities (nothing occurred in Shinkasa House without the notice of the masters), but were most likely unconcerned with the particulars.

And so, Ranma had positioned himself in a location that would best suit this meager advantage - the food hall. Here, without the aid of artificial light the sparsely windowed rectangular construction was virtually pitch black; and added to that were the myriad of tables, stools, benches and utensil stands which simply begged to trip an unwary foot. As further precaution, the ninja had taken precious minutes to lay a few spoons, cups, and other small items in most of the primary open spaces. Now all that remained was to wait.

**********

A short distance away, another combatant was silently pacing along the roof top of a covered walkway. Swordmaster Meyah was in no doubts as to her own vaunted talents, but then again she was equally in no doubt of her son's skills as well. After all she had trained him herself.

Thus, she was taking the greatest care in measuring her footfalls, flowing like smooth water in an inhuman silence. Only such cautiousness would ensure victory on her part - now all that remained was to find the pigtailed boy before he found her. Critically, she paused to assess her kohai's fighting style. Anything Goes, my katana skills, Master Kagora's Ninjitsu teachings - where would I go if I had all three?

Musing deeply, Meyah alighted quietly upon the tiled roofing of the food hall.

**********

But not quiet enough. Poised as he was for any sound, Ranma detected the faint scuff of leather heel upon clay shingles - his super sensitive hearing amplifying the scrape like a klaxon. Unless Lano was dancing about the roof tops for his own amusement (unlikely but technically possible), Master Meyah was now standing above.

And now, he was faced with a certain dilemma - attack now or wait? Following the latter, it was quite possible that the swordmaster would merely bypass the hall on her way to another building. Fortunately the decision was taken out of his hands entirely as his sensei lowered herself through the ceiling escape for a cursory check of the ninja trainees' dining site.

The first factor that assailed her senses was that the interior was dark - and that was a mild understatement. In fact it was somehow too dark for reality - no, she could feel it. Ranma - you clever boy. Here, in the pitch of night she would be as blind as he - and that would undermine the difference in their swordsmanship. Oh yes, he was here alright.

Crouching beneath the distribution table, Ranma almost smiled in the darkness. Both ninjas were aware of the other's presence - now was his moment to test some harshly acquired night fighting prowess, and to see if those private unarmed sparring sessions with Lano would pay off. As he had done so less than a week into the past, the pigtailed ninja raised his head and twisted it about gently, ranging the distance between the pair - all the while keeping eyes closed.

But this was no grey band trainee he was facing. Peering into the black, Meyah guessed at a possible half-formed apparition squatting to her left. One had to be wary - for in this tensely hyper-alertive environment the mind could easily paint non-existent imagery. But in this case her ears seconded the information provided from semi-sight, and without waiting for a possible strike, she leapt flawlessly across the dozen or so feet separating the dueling couple.

Reacting under an instinct which he could not entirely comprehend, the boy had his guard up in good time to meet his mother's forceful double overhead chop. Wasting no time, he took advantage of her momentary shift in inertia to foot swipe the table top clean of all other occupants. Thrown bodily, the swordmaster tucked and rolled with the fall, but nonetheless crashed heavily into the adjoining bench. Reeling slightly from the impact, she nonetheless vacated the spot with barely enough clearance to avoid the downward stab of her son's left bokken. Flipping randomly to the off side, it was only sheer luck that prevented another fall amidst scattered furniture.

Those three electrifying seconds of cacophonic combat were suddenly replaced by an eerie silence. Meyah attempted to silence her somewhat laboured breathing, but soon gave up - in a way she had not accounted for, her kohai was apparently able to track her movements despite the lack of vision. Making a decision she abandoned stealth and sprinted in what she guessed as the correct direction of the nearest lighting switch.

Grinning like a gleeful child Ranma fixed the speed of his mother's escape and vaulted over the displaced benches - timing the descent to coincide with her path. In the noise of her own flight, the Shinkasa master failed to notice the attack until it was almost too late. Crossing her twin bokkens in a general block, she inadvertently caught the massive sword slash - carrying her son's entire weight behind it - on her arm guard bracer. Grunting as the shock traveled up her arm, Meyah lurched groggily, but never for a moment abandoned her skill. Twirling the hilt of the bokken in the pit of her hand, she reversed holds and jabbed up - a feat of dexterity which would have been marvelous had it connected. Unfortunately, the pigtailed ninja had already shifted, letting the invading sword fly harmlessly past.

Frustrated somewhat, the beleaguered sensei wondered how her student could see enough to dodge strikes like that. It would certainly be a topic for discussion at a later date. However, for now…….

Euphoric in his elation, Ranma refrained from shouting in glee. His first attack had failed - and he was almost certain to lose this battle - but the accounting which he had delivered in the course of it was well worth the loss.

Relying upon sheer experience, and the fact that she had personally taught her son many of the moves being used now, Meyah fended off the boy's offensive, aided by her Amazon speed techniques. Miraculously the doorframe seemed to materialise in the face of her outstretched hand, and running fingers swiftly down the well worn wood, she found the switch.

Suddenly the large hall room was bathed in an artificially cold light - blindingly bright to eyes long accustomed to the dark. Squinting furiously Ranma braced himself for the finale. He was not disappointed as 'Mom' wasted no time and closed in for some serious swordplay.

Clashing in a myriad of whirling blades, mother and son, sensei and kohai met with vigour - their duel sword styles a mirror to the other. This was more than simply a doubling of weapon numbers - one had to constantly watch that a bokken strike not be followed by the second wooden blade - any over-extension was 'fatal'.

Ranma heaved forwards with a cross arm cut, and was promptly answered by a responding thrust, as the swordmaster's hands moved along the curvature of her blades. Back and forth the advantage shifted, as master and kohai sought to wrest a swift victory.

And in the end skill prevailed, as it was nearly always wont to do, and Ranma was twisted uncomfortably into a half-sprawl across the floor. Nonetheless his smile remained even as Meyah lowered her bokken tip to his throat. The happiness was echoed in his opponent, both in pride of her son's skill, and for the smile which was so rare to the usually solemn youth.

"Master Meyah, I yield."

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

"Superlative performance Ranma, as always. This post briefing would perhaps be longer if we could actually find something to criticise - but you are progressing well beyond requirements." Kagora emerged readily from the darkened anteroom from where the judging masters had tracked the course of the battle. Yet another past shock on the trainee's part was the discovery that certain internals of the Clan compound could be monitored by closed circuit television - not for security reasons (nobody was that foolish to try anything underhanded here), but for situations as these.

Joining in, the guard master added, "It appears we may have to keep a closer watch upon you and Iyarasora - all those….shall we say 'non' Ninjitsu moves. However it is late, and you are to leave tomorrow so it is well that we retire for the night."

The teenager's relief was almost audible - he was somewhat uncertain how to explain all of the 'blind fighting' practice with Lano. "Hai sensei."

Before the weary kohai departed, Master Kagora offered one last comment. "Ranma….you did well. Very well indeed."

"Thank you, Master Kagora." Wafting away to his own rooms, Ranma at least bore the semblance of a prouder stride.

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

Ukyou glanced casually at his wrist watch. He had arrived at the Yamakaro district in the earlier hours of the morning, taking lodgings to compose himself for the coming confrontation. The okonomiyaki chef had had no previous experience in dealing with ninjas before (few in today's world could claim such), but for any situation it was always a good idea to be awake enough for alertness. A brief perusal of Hashima had established that whatever ninja clan Genma had claimed his son was staying with, it was not to be found within the town proper. Inquiries had yielded the hasty revelation that the clan - Shinkasa Clan, founded its headquarters upon the eastern slope of Yamakaro Mountain itself. The rugged landscape made for a pristine scenario, especially with the snow coating which painted the vista in the purest white. Had it not been for his life long commitment, Ukyou might have enjoyed touring the island of Hokkaido.

It was now approaching noon, so it would be best to find lunch, then make the climb up the slopes in the afternoon. Soon he would be able to test the reliability of Saotome Genma's words.

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

For the second time this month, Ranma again beheld his trusty backpack, but this time it was to serve a more conventional purpose. Unlike some of his other counterparts, the teenager had little trouble rationing out the relatively minimal storage space which would serve as the holder for his expedition essentials - when one had to lug one's own possessions on the road, it tended to breed an appreciation for the 'travelling light' motto.

In the end, the outlay was simple - two crimson Chinese silk shirts, three black ones, three pairs of kung fu trousers, a spare change of shoes, and several sets of boxer shorts/singlet combinations. Almost as an afterthought he added the red silken bundle of mementos - after all he was travelling to a foreign land - a few souvenirs wouldn't hurt.

The clothing issue now settled, the pigtailed trainee now turned to the last issue on hand - weapons. His mother had left a rugged canvas case to hold his personal combat tools for the training trip, leaving it to her kohai to choose which he was to bring. All Shinkasa trainees were given a basic grounding in the wider conventional array of weapons - if only to provide some experience in defending oneself against them, so the variety which he could choose from was exceptionally large. The identical pair of bokkens went in of course, followed by his favourite steel katanas. Added to this was a small bandoleer of shuriken - whilst not so adept at handling the throwing projectiles as Lano, Ranma had proven no mean shot with the distinctly 'ninja' style weapons. In deference to Kagora's rigorous teachings a pair of sai were tossed into the bag, followed by……..actually now that he considered it that was really all that was needed - the ninja trainee could also handle a bow and arrows, but that was too cumbersome for the China trip.

Hefting both backpack and canvas case out of Meyah's quarters, Ranma ran in an easy lope to the waiting semi-trailer that would take the seven to the nearest airport. His part in the packing completed, the teenager wafted off to check on his friend.

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

"Damnation!"

Ranma had to laugh at the sorry spectacle. Lano's travelling bag was perfectly fine - sparsely filled in imitation of his friend. The weapons case was another matter entirely. Clinically the pigtailed boy listed the itinerary which had failed to fit in the dangerously bulging bag. "Two bo-staffs, three - correction four king size bandoleers, two no-dachi, one naginata, two bows, with…three holsters of arrows, one sling - with…." Here he paused to count" fourteen rocks, eight sai, and a partridge in a pear tree."

"What was that?" Lano queried, following the last item.

Shrugging non-committedly his friend answered, "Nothing - it's just something I saw on a Western Christmas show."

'Yeah whatever." Resolutely, the Korean returned to the vain packing spree.

"You know if we are attacked by enemies, give the bag a solid kick. It'll explode and kill everyone."

"Shaddup Ranma."

Unexpectedly a deepish voice rumbled from behind. "What?! Is there no work to be done? IYARASORA LANO hurry up and pack your bags!!"

Meekly, Kinaro's kohai ducked his head once more to the packing - there just had to be a way to fit this all.

Hiding behind his theatrically furious glare, the weapons master smiled bemusedly - Lano was perhaps taking his personal training just a bit too far.

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

In short order, the travelling troupe were organised and set to end their unbroken residence at Shinkasa House. Silently, the pigtailed trainee surveyed those with him squashed rather uncomfortably in the passenger seating. His mother, and her own father sat close, conferring quietly over a what appeared to be a highly detailed topographic map - ignoring the occasional stomach lurching bumps as the overloaded vehicle passed over a road rut. Presuming that they were discussing the upcoming travelling plans, he let his gaze wander over to Lano's sensei, who squatted grousily against the window, absently toying with a dagger. The Korean himself was all eyes, taking in the new vistas previously hidden by the Clan community. And lastly were the other two travelers - Nagara Kuranami and Kino Daikoto, he recalled - both in their later twenties. Aside from that he knew little of the pair - save that they were members of Master Hitoshi's guard and were in addition already 'ordained' as fully trained black band ninjas. With reference to his previous discussion with the loremaster, it was evident that skill alone was the defining factor which allowed one the honour of training with the Joketsuzoku, not rank within the Clan matrix. That aside, they both appeared to be amiable enough companions.

Ranma's internal assessments were interrupted as the truck pulled up to their first stop. Although he was technically aware of the very great distance lying between the beginning and end of their journey, the ninja trainee had never bothered to inquire as to the modes of transportation.

Consequently, he was pleasantly surprised when it was discovered that the semi-trailer was heading towards a privately run airfield only an hour's freeway driving away. He had never flown before (multi storey leaping didn't count) - indeed outside of Ninjitsu and road survival the boy's worldly experiences were decidedly lacking.

Added to that was the clearance of several puzzling questions which had innately arisen - namely how the Clan masters planned to sneak several hefty kilograms of medieval weaponry through Japanese and Chinese customs.

"Wow, isn't this nifty?" Lano commented in awe as he was ushered into the narrow doorway into the twin engined passenger jet.

Neutrally, Master Kagora provided the background knowledge. "You will later find that Shinkasa's resources are quite……respectable in certain areas." He smiled faintly, "It might be called a source of pride that our Clan has prospered in today's modern society, not so?"

Within the interior was functionally simplistic, bearing none of the accoutrements common to small jets. Unpainted plastic walling complemented the Spartan feel. "Hey Ranma they even have a toilet back here."

"What kohai, did you expect us to hold our bladders for the next five or six hours?"

"It is theoretically possible, Master Kinaro."

"Bah, I am sorely tempted to have you personally demonstrate this feat for the remainder of our flight."

Now that definitely shut the Korean up.

***********

Kuonji Ukyou stood apprehensively before the massive oaken entryway, arrayed above and in front of him. Dominating the façade was a large circular engraving cut into the crossbeam passing over the open gates, depicting a writhing dragon coiled over the visage of a roaring tiger. He had made the two hour climb with many expectations in mind - but to find the doors to the Clan house flung wide open, and suggestively inviting for all their monstrous size, was never in that list of possible welcomings.

Within the occasional figure could be clearly seen pacing sedately from one building to another - a comparatively innocent scenario to the supposed 'ninja brotherhood' stereotype that most Bushido martial artists were raised to expect. Indeed, were it not for the notably grey or black style of attire dominating the occupants, it would reminded the chef greatly of a university campus of sorts.

Shrugging off the peculiarities, the Kuonji heir marched determinedly into the compound - that appeared to be the best way to approach the matter.

"Welcome to the House of Shinkasa, how may I help you?"

The teenager nearly yelped in fright when in less than ten paces another person seemingly materialised out of thin air directly in front of him. Off guard and breathless, he was temporarily at a loss for a response. Obligingly, the guard repeated himself. "Do you have any particular business here in Shinkasa?"

Knocked back to the purpose of his journey, the raven haired boy hastily composed himself. "I'm looking for a Saotome Ranma - I was told that I might find him here….sir" assessing the man's seniority over himself, Ukyo was unsure of what honourific would be appropriate to a ninja.

Abruptly the door guard's air of pleasant geniality wavered a little. "Stay here please," he commanded formally, "I will find another to consult you on that matter." Without waiting for a response the black clad fighter dashed away, disappearing around the nearest building.

Somewhat bewildered at the turn of events, the teenager opted to follow the request and wait - it was not prudent at this stage to test the Clan's patience. Fortunately the delay was short in duration, as another figure emerged from an adjacent doorway. Ukyou immediately noted several defining features of the newcomer - the fact that she was female, but perhaps more significantly that unlike the previous person, she wore about her forehead a bandanna woven from gold filigree. Absently he realised that the insignia visible upon the band was the same as to be found over the compound entrance. Clearly this tall, lightly muscled lady was a leader of sorts.

It was with surprise that the Kuonji heir realised that the object of his focus was closely examining himself at the same time. "My name is Shinkasa Maya. I will do my best to enlighten you on the whereabouts of Saotome Ranma. Would you accompany me please?"

Cautiously, Ukyou followed his newly acquired guide, observing the fact that the woman's surname matched the Clan title. They crossed into a walkway, then down through an open courtyard. In the background the martial artist detected the faint sounds of combat wafting over the cold winter breezes. After a few minutes the pair were sitting opposite each other inside of what appeared to be an unused classroom, warmed by an old-style fire hearth. Conversationally, the mysterious ninja leader opened, "I'm afraid that you have arrived only a little too late. Ranma recently left us with an entourage headed for a training centre in China."

"China?" Now that was a totally unexpected development. "Where in China?"

Smiling enigmatically, the lady replied in comprehension, "You would give much indeed to find out - the distance of travel matters not to those entirely committed."

The openly voiced deduction set the teenager onto full alertness - the subversive undertone suggested that this lady was well aware that she was under no obligation to reveal the location. Softly, Ukyou murmured, "It is a matter of family honour."

"It always is a matter of honour with you martial artists." Maya answered resignedly. Coming to a quick decision, she stated firmly, "The expedition Is spoke of is heading for the village of Joketsuzoku - a Chinese community within the heartland of the Bayankala Mountain Range." Seeing her audience's lack of recognition, she continued, "And don't bother trying to find out where that is - most likely you'll fail. In any case we'll provide you with the necessary details."

Suspicious at the sudden shift in fortune, Ukyou warily demanded, "Why are you being so accommodating to me all of a sudden?"

"Count it as a means to save time for all of us. Now, if you would follow me, we can get this business over with a minimum of fuss, and you can be on your way."

The teenager gave his dubious acceptance.

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

In short order the necessary maps, track routes, airports and the like had been conveyed, and the Kuonji heir was set on his way - travelling once more. Leaning lightly against the palisade, Maya absently watched the slowly diminishing figure as the teenager slowly descended the winding track of Yamakaro.

"Why did you reveal so much to the girl?"

The ninja master did not have to turn to recognise the heavy baritone of Guardmaster Hitoshi. "She would have discovered the locality of Kagora's heir eventually - if not in China, then after Ranma returned." Her eyes grew distant, looking toward the past. "I have seen her type before - hurt, obsessive - hoping that a quick revenge journey will satisfy the pain. It is only later that children such as they realise that the journey can stretch to a lifetime."

"It is hard to remember that we were that young once." Hitoshi commented sombrely. "But in any case I am unsure that any of the travelling party, not to mention the Amazons will relish your actions."

She almost scoffed at that. "By now Kagora and his group will be just entering the Sea of Japan - the Kuonji girl will never catch up with them until they arrive at Joketsuzoku. And the Amazons are more than capable of dealing with one martial artist."

The Guardmaster did not respond, gazing as Ukyou finally disappeared from view.

**********

"Man, I never thought it'd be that easy to traffic around this much hardware from country to country." Lano breathlessly groaned, as he lugged the main weapons case into the rear of a waiting pickup truck.

"China is a very large place - one can get by with the appropriate connections." Kagora supplied simply in explanation.

Ranma was amazed enough at the reach of influence the ninja organisation displayed. The plane had landed in a small government owned (technically) airstrip to be sure, but it was clearly clan members who were present to greet them and manage the baggage in clan run vehicles. Meyah had waved off his wondering commentary, asserting that the appearance was vastly overstated - Shinkasa's interests in China were decidedly sparse - this line of communication and transport with the Amazons was certainly not representative of ninja activity elsewhere.

The seven had landed in the isolated mountain airfield close to the middle of night, accounting for the time zone lag, and had spent the hours remaining till daylight in a pre-arranged inn. Now, rising traditionally with the Sun, the travelers were loading up the transportation for the next leg of the trip. They were to journey as far as was roadworthily possible in two well worn trucks, but eventually the remainder of the journey had to be executed on foot, as there were no serviceable tracks leading directly through Bayankala to the Joketsuzoku. This revelation had of course thoroughly depressed one Iyarasora Lano, with the added realisation that he would be obliged to carry his own baggage - weapons included.

That aside, the party traveled in relatively high spirits - the younger members drinking in the new sights and sounds of a foreign land. Accustomed as they were to mountain climates, the crisply thin atmosphere of the Bayankala Range proved no great hurdle - though their sheer enormity, dwarfing even the rugged peaks of Japan made the Clan's own quaint Yamakaro seem no more significant than a molehill.

Ambiently, Ranma stared distantly through the glass of the door window, his mind unthinkingly trying to find the differences in a Chinese environment. Here, in the heart of the mountain wilderness there were no human life signs to define a distinctly 'Chinese' feel - no signs, very few buildings, and likewise a thinly spread population. Nature it seemed was universal.

Turning back toward the interior of the truck, the ninja trainee looked towards the two older fighters, Daikoto and Kuranami. Both were cheerfully chatting about pleasant nothings, relaxing as much as was feasibly possible in the cramped cabin. He realised then that on par with his previous isolationist tendencies, there had been only rudimentary dialogue exchanged during the journey. The significant age gap, as well as the act that both ninja guards carried the black bandanna, as opposed to his own trainee's grey had resulted in a certain hesitancy towards conversation. With Meyah's last lecture at Shinkasa House in mind, Ranma decided to break the proverbial 'ice'.

"Uh…hi."

As one, both older ninjas turned to face him. Pleasantly, the woman returned, "I was wondering if that handsome face came with a voice to match." Her tone was only slightly teasing.

Blushing under the twin scrutiny, the teenager was unsure how to continue, and thus tried to aim the course onto more familiar territory. "How long have you been training for, Nagara Sempai?"

"Call me Kuranami - certainly not Sempai. Both Daikoto here and myself began Ninjitsu at the age of nine; so it's what fifteen years?" Without discomfort she added, "And despite that I'd warrant that you and Lano would easily trounce the both of us."

With a half-glance the boy looked out the rear windscreen at the pickup following closely behind wherein the Korean sat with his Master. Dropping his gaze almost shyly, Ranma tried to modestly wave off the praise, "Wellll, you never know really - I'm sure you've got lotsa experience over me and Lano."

Daikoto snorted rudely in response to that statement. "Yeah, enough experience to know better than to try a 'one on one' duel with either of you two prodigies." Nonchalantly the rangy young man pulled off his jet bandanna, holding it for the pigtailed teenager to see. The tiger and dragon's emblem glinted brightly in the morning Sun. "Don't let this fool you - your own ascendance as a Shinkasa ninja is a formality only. I've seen you fight with Iyarasora before - and trust my word when I say that most of the ninja guard would be very hard pressed to stand up against either of you."

"And of course there is always your Nekoken to consider." Kuranami added, "I've heard much about the Catfist, but have never seen it before. You must demonstrate it when we reach Joketsuzoku."

Hesitantly looking toward the front seat where both his sensei sat, Ranma murmured, "Master Kagora stated clearly that I'm not to use the catfist - inside or outside of training unless it is absolutely necessary."

Turning his head to look at the trio in the rear seats, the elderly ninja master said, "Almost correct Ranma - at that time I was referring to actual combat, or other situations where someone was likely to be injured. Then the use of the Nekoken is to be avoided. You are free however to use the Nekoken for more - peaceable pursuits." Ignoring his kohai's incredulously wide eyed stare, he continued, "Personally I have found the technique marvelously useful for cutting firewood - that is if you can bear the chi draining of course."

Ranma only continued to gape. Master Kagora was the last person he had expected to condone such 'daily' usages of the catfist.

"Stop staring at me like a stunned fish Ranma and think logically. Provided that no one not of our sphere sees you in action, what harm is there? We Nekoken masters sacrifice much for the technique - the least we could be allowed is to use it." Smiling wryly, the old master added, "I'm sure from now on you'll find plenty times when supreme cutting blades might come in handy, not so? Just try not to go overboard - it does tend to tax the chi levels, and I won't have you falling asleep in the daytime."

His kohai nodded dubiously. "Hai sensei."

***********

Elsewhere, a vibrant purple haired Amazon was airborne in the descent of a drop kick. True to her skill, she landed perfectly, even with the compensation required for the absence of a target. Without hesitation the teenager was dancing once more, arms gracefully swirling as she used the top heavy momentum of her weapons to power the swings. Amongst the village fighters, Xian Pu's choice of the bonbori was considered rather peculiar - for they lacked the damage power of blades or even spiked maces, and in the hands of the inexperienced proved cumbersome and unwieldy.

But Khu Lon's heir was far from amateurish in her knowledge, and saw only the benefits - a bonbori's strike could be devastating if it connected - easily crushing skin and powdering bone. As well, with no sharp edges, the round maces could be gripped and thrown at a variety of angles - and of course under her great great grandmother's tutelage, Xian Pu had mastered a range of combinations.

This aside, the Amazon was content to practice in solitude of her own glade - to train as she chose, without all the rules, repetitions, and recriminations that came with a sensei's observation. In a life of martial arts this was her own time to relax.

Thus, the violet haired girl would have been thoroughly put off had she realised that at the current moment she was indeed not alone. At a respectful distance away (ie. far enough to remain hidden), another Amazon was almost dreamily staring at the buxom girl as she danced. Mu Tzu had discovered this glen which his love frequented several months ago - and from then on had been inexorably drawn to it. Even with his thoroughly impaired vision, the youth hungrily savoured any chance to drink in the sight of his mountain girl. Mu Tzu knew it was an addiction, this blind love for a girl who openly spurned him, but those few glorious instants when she did seem to care a little for him were worth all the rejection.

It was one such instant in the distant past when both were barely five - the year the long haired boy's eyes had begun their deterioration - where he knew instinctively that from then onwards his devotion to Xian Pu would be utterly complete. It was simple affair really - a group of children had seen fit to take advantage of his short sightedness. In a population of such fierce physical competitiveness, this child had been marked as an outsider from the moment his mother had resignedly presented her son with his very first pair of spectacles.

The irritating glasses had been quickly relieved forcibly, and the blinded child left to fight for their return - his random flailings making for a ludicrous scene.

It was then that a certain little purple haired girl had chanced to see her friend in his moment of humiliation. With the sliding reflexes which would later become the hallmark of her style, Xian Pu had leapt thoughtlessly into action, fiercely defending her companion's right to clear sight - and doing her best to damage the opposition in the process. In the several long minutes of brawling that followed, the spectacles had been irreparably smashed in any case - but that was of no consequence to the stunned boy. He watched heart brokenly as his best friend was pummeled ruthlessly by the older children - brought down by sheer weight and greater experience. In the end Xian Pu was gently carried away by the healers, unconscious with severe bruisings to her face and limbs. It mattered not that the youths were later harshly punished for their bullying - Mu Tzu had vowed then to make them all pay. This desire to win had been the driving force for his rapid ascension in the Hidden Weapons style.

And at that same moment as well, the uncontrolled part of a child's psyche was forever to be linked with the mountain girl.

Brought back to the present by his love's abrupt end to her dance, the teenager could not suppress his wistful sigh, thankfully beyond hearing range of the departing Amazon. Another day and another afternoon - and Mu Tzu was once again returned to the dreary life of the village. Pushing his despised eye pieces higher on the bridge of his nose, the Hidden Weapons master quietly followed.

**********

"Alright everyone, this is where the mechanized portion of the journey ends - from now on we are employing the mode of transportation that Kami Sama has given us."

"Great," Lano muttered grumpily, "….walking." The fact that his pigtailed friend had generously offered to split their combined loads evenly (ie. Ranma was shouldering some of his excess weaponry) had only shifted the mode of emotions from depression into guilt.

"Quit your whining kohai," Master Kinaro admonished in an equally sullen voice. "You'll only have another 2 or so days of walking. Consider yourself fortunate - in my days before Shinkasa obtained a jet aircraft, we had to scale Bayankala from its very base."

"Thank the Kami for modern technology."

All of the travelers, save for the weapons master were inclined to smirk at that.

***********

It was late into dusk before the travelling group finally camped for the night, consuming more miles of the journey than previously planned. Familiar with the outlying territory, despite his long absence, Kagora estimated that they would easily reach the Joketsuzoku village by next nightfall - a reasonable pace.

In a space of minutes three functionally small tents were erected, and the firewood gathered for cooking. Much to Ranma's chagrin he, as unofficially the most skilled chef in the party, was involuntarily conscripted to perform the honours for tonight's dinner. There was some comfort to be taken that his mother offered to share the burden - but it was the concept which rankled the most.

However, whatever reservations the pigtailed trainee might have felt, they were certainly not reflected in his output. Granted the pair were required to work with travel rations - dried meats and tinned produce, but under the combined efforts of Master Meyah and her son, the meal was delectable enough. Fried dried beef strips, softened by a thickened stew of assorted vegetables and soaked rice.

Finishing his share quickly, Ranma mutely viewed his companions as they ate in silence, the quiet only occasional broken by the half hearted movings of the local wildlife. "Well Master Meyah, Ranma that was a sumptuous dinner - one of the better travel meals I've enjoyed in a long while."

"Thank you Master Kagora," Meyah responded pleasantly.

"Yeah thanks sensei." Ranma echoed morosely. "So what do we do now?"

"We clean up, retire, close our eyes, and hopefully given time, sleep."

"Okay then." After all the excitement of the journeying, sleep just seemed to be an……anti-climax. Looking toward Lano, the friends shared a silent moment of understanding. Practically every day, for years, the teenager and his Korean companion had 'enjoyed' their customary dueling match. This international change of scenery was hardly a warrant to break that tradition now.

So thinking Lano turned to his sensei. "Master Kinaro, is it alright if Ranma and I spar a little?"

"Yes yes," The heavy set man waved off the anxiety. "You and Ranma have managed to find the energy over the years for these little games - only I won't have you falling asleep on the trek tomorrow."

Interested, Kuranami arose from her sitting position opposite the campfire. "Would you mind if I came along to watch?" Grinning impishly she added, "Maybe I can pick up a few pointers from the dynamic duo."

"Yes, I have always been curious as to what it was you two found so intriguing in this private battles."

Suddenly thrust into the limelight, the pair shifted about uncomfortably. Childish as it may have seemed now, they had always considered these night sessions to be a rather personal affair. "A-alright….I guess…..that is if Ranma doesn't mind."

"Nah. I guess it's okay."

And with that the entire group settled in to watch tonight's spectacle.

***********

Now that he was aware of outsider scrutiny, Ranma was hit by the realisation that the image of two blindfolded ninjas duking it out in the middle of the night - combined with all the random swingings, wild punches and kicks - might have seemed a trifle bizarre. To the untrained eye it would have taken on the appearance of some peculiar child's game.

However, this was how the trainees had honed their night fighting skills, so this was how they would train - Masters or otherwise. There were mixed reactions amongst the crowd as they observed the pair pull grey bandannas over their eyes. "Interesting - I have wondered since your trial on how you were able to 'see' so well in the night."

"Shhhhh!" Ranma reflexively hissed, before realising who he was addressing. "….uhh please, Master Meyah." Awkwardly he returned to the match.

The atmosphere pervading was somewhat different from what the duelers were accustomed to. For one, the expected silence was broken by the constant whistling of the mountain breezes - more apparent in these higher altitudes than in Yamakaro. Added to that the hushed clamour of five extra breathers, and it became difficult indeed to track one's opponent.

For several long minutes there was compete inactivity - the bystanders waiting patiently from the sidelines. Inhaling deeply yet silently, Ranma crouched low, then lightly tossed a pebble he had pocketed before the match. It clacked unobtrusively in the minute space bordering the combatants.

Taut as he was for action, Lano reflexively jerked towards the inordinate sound, before his higher consciousness realised that Ranma would never be that clumsy, at least by accident. Thus it was of no great surprise when a surge of aggressive movement followed his mistake.

Meyah watched with surprise as her son seemed to fly in his horizontal leap, pinpointing Lano's exact location despite their blindness. Unlike his last battle with the Korean, this time Ranma made no effort to find a sensitive point, opting for a straightforward full fisted slug to the face that would have done a martial artist proud.

"Amazing……" Daikoto murmured in appreciation. He then winced sympathetically as the defensive Korean absorbed another shoulder level punch. "Their sparring is very rough though."

"Heritage of both trainee's martial artist origins." Kagora supplied resignedly. "It is the martial way of 'toughening up', so to say."

Their brief discussion was interrupted by a falling out of the combatants. Both were breathing roughly - the pigtailed ninja having received his own motley assortment of injuries. Knowing that time wasted was time for Lano to recover, Ranma held his breath an instant, allowing to gauge his friend's own raspy pant and once again launched onto the offensive. Without a disconcerting lack of preamble the Korean was systematically (as systematically as possible without the aid of sight) knocked into submission, the duel ending with a vigorous slam to the base of the skull.

"Kami above you two are violent."

"Awww Mom…er Master Meyah it's all part of training. And Lano's tough enough." Already the teenager had knelt to tend to his unconscious friend. With right hand glowing a warm aqua, the pseudo healer gently massaged the Korean to a reluctant awakening.

Well, at least my healing teachings are put to good use, Meyah considered wryly.

"Raaaarrrghh," the now conscious Lano groaned. Feeling delicately along the nape of his neck, he added weakly, "Kanto's slam point?"

Ranma couldn't resist a grin. "The very same one. At least now you can share my last night's migraine."

"Shaddup and fix me up healer boy," the battered youth grumbled.

"Whatever you say Lano."

Thus, in due course the pigtailed administered his best chi abilities, with supplementary skill supplied by the swordmaster. With the minimum of fuss both fighters were tended to and packaged up to sleep the remainder of the night.

*********

Staring aimlessly at the low ceiling of her tent, Meyah pondered over the latest revelations of her son and kohai.

"Philosophising once more, my daughter?"

She tilted her head to regard the old ninja master resting in the adjacent cot, wondering if his ultra senses could 'hear' her very thoughts. "Reading minds, father?"

He ignored the question. "You are thinking of Ranma of course."

"Yes," she almost seemed to sigh. "I worry about him."

Eyes twinkling affectionately, Kagora replied, "Meyah, you always worry for Ranma."

His daughter shot him an exasperated glance before her visage crinkled again. "What we saw today just proves once more how obsessed my son is in the combat arts. He spends every credible hour training in Ninjitsu, Anything Goes, or whatever suits the pair's fancy. If it weren't for the fact that we make him attend normal classes, I'd warrant he'd spend every waking hour in such a manner as tonight."

"He's young Meyah, let Ranma do as he pleases in this matter."

The swordmaster rolled over to face her father directly. "Master Kagora, this so-called 'blindfighting' technique is the direct result of the fact that Ranma, and Lano as well crave to learn more of Ninjitsu than we willingly teach at any one time. They are so impatient to absorb, that in the minute time span when we are not tutoring them, they tutor themselves in such a manner." She paused in reflection. "I refuse to raise a son to society whose sole concern in life is to fight."

Staring her in the eyes, Kagora said, "You know Ranma well enough - that is not the reasoning for which he trains. His focus revolves around honour - the honour to bear the Shinkasa name. I saw it on our first day of training - the boy may not have voiced it, but well do I know he vowed to live up to his abilities - to the best of his capabilities."

"You are aware that part of the vow is due to his desire to please his sensei. He sees your own skill - the fact that both of you share the mastery of the Nekoken. In that way my son is not unlike yourself."

Under Kagora's inquiring gaze, she continued, "Ever wonder about your own desire to be the best - the greatest of the great? I see it in my own son every day."

Trying to wave it off, the aged ninja master murmured, "Such a mentality is long gone in my youth. As with many things, it wore off over time."

"Yes, I only wish that the same occurs for Ranma soon - much as I respect you, I fervently hope he does not have to follow your own childhood pathway." Under her precise observation, her father was seen to stiffen ever so slightly. "You have never hidden anything from me, save for this block of your life - and for that I am fearful - fearful of anything that can cause you shame."

Kagora's voice was suddenly eerily monotonic. "It is best that you not know - only Nekoken victims can understand with volition."

"I pray that you are right Master Kagora. Good night."

"Goodnight, my daughter."

***********

Reclining tersely in his economy class flight to the Chinese city of Lanzhou, Kuonji Ukyou let himself drift to the dull rumble of the jet's massive engines. According to the steward, the airliner was already well into this nation of Communism. So far the Shinkasa Clan's instructions had proved accurate enough - travel to Yubari, find the next scheduled flight from Hokkaido to Lanzhou. From there transfer planes to Qinghai, hire transport to Du Hong……

The neatly typed sheets listed a dozen other Chinese titles, each representing a progressively smaller denomination of populace - the last being of course - Joketsuzoku. It had of course occurred to the okonomiyaki chef that the directions might have easily been a deliberate attempt to mislead - but then it was not as if he had a better lead to follow, and in a world this large China was as good as any place to start. Always, was the constant irritating reminder that had he arrived at the ninja house a few hours earlier, this trip could have been avoided.

God I must look pathetic. Teenagers his age were going to school - 'training' themselves for university. They had a social life, they had friends….families to go home to every day. And what about him? Chasing some phantom long lost friend now hated enemy - for crying out loud he was going to China! If a price could be named to honour, Ukyou was sure that he had more than paid it.

Well, it was not for him to think about things like that - the Kuonji heir had made a solemn vow to his father, and more critically to himself that he would not rest until both Saotomes had paid their own to satisfy honour and loss.

And there was one still owing.

**********

"Jeez, why do all our training grounds have to be so bloody high in the sky?" Lano liked the mountain air, he enjoyed the freshness of the atmosphere, and the purity of the environment - what he hated was that one had to march up to get anywhere on a mountain.

"Now now Iyarasora, I have walked this Earth for seventy one years, and if I can tolerate the strain in passivity then so can you."

A little shamefully, the Korean returned his gaze to the rough dirt track before him. Presently he turned to his companion, whispering "Master Kagora is really seventy one?"

"What, do you think he was lying?"

"No of course not," Lano hastily said, "but look at him - he could easily pass for forty or fifty. I hope when my time comes I age that well."

"Plenty of sleep, healthy food, and exercise will get you there in good spirits." The old ninja master commented mildly, once again displaying his phenomenal hearing.

Changing the rather pointless topic, Kuranami looked towards the swordmaster pacing by her side. How long until we reach the village?"

"Not long - we should be there by nightfall."

Nightfall meant at most three hours - and for that Ranma was grateful. He was already regretting having offered to share Lano's burden. Stupid no-dachi's.

***********

True to her words, the Shinkasa party arrived shortly after sunset. To tired eyes and weary legs it was a very welcoming sight - the warm twinkle of cook fires marking out the surprising extent of the populace, nestled as it was in the heart of the Bayankala Valley. Now that they stood at the rim of this canyon, it was no great surprise that this Amazon population had escaped the notice of the government - not even Ranma would have known it was there unless he chanced upon this opening by accident. And looking at the rugged horizon totally surrounding the viewscape, that seemed a practical impossibility.

"Well, shall we go forth and greet our hosts?"

"Yeah, and quickly - I can't feel my legs anymore." Daikoto had also been one of the involuntary members of the 'carry the weapons' association.

"Lucky for you - I can feel my legs and they hurt."

Kuranami's tone was sweetly soothing. "Now now little children, don't worry - we're almost there."

Both her compatriot and the Korean shot angry glares at that, but nonetheless quickened their paces. If the group hurried, they would arrive in time for a bath and hot meal.

Making their way down the weaving mountain trail, it was not long until the party was intercepted by an Amazon warrior. "What is your business here?" she sternly greeted in her native dialect, at least outwardly unperturbed by the sight of seven armed fighters.

Answering in Mandarin, Kagora held both palms out in the universal sign of peace. "We are the visitors from Japan." Assuming that to be a sufficient explanation, he waited patiently for a response. When, after several tenuously long seconds the warrior remained motionless, blocking the pathway, he tried again. "We are of the Shinkasa Clan and have come, upon acceptance of our requests by your matriarchy to train with the Joketsuzoku."

"We do not allow for visitors to enter bearing arms." As if to punctuate her words, the Amazon guard whistled shrilly through her teeth, calling for support. "You'll need to convince me if you want to pass through, and so far you have not."

"Is there something wrong, Master Kagora?" Daikoto inquired, failing to understand the language used. His query was left unanswered as the lone guard casually interrupted, switching to Japanese for the benefit of the bystanders.

"So the old man has a name?" She offered and exaggerated bow. "So very pleased to meet you Master Kagora."

The ninja master's eyes narrowed speculatively, whilst the group tensed visibly - this was certainly not the welcome he had been expecting. The arrival of a dozen other Amazons did not improve the already strained atmosphere. Subversively, Kagora pressed the thumb, third and fourth fingers of his right hand together - a gesture recognised by all the ninjas. "Yes, my name is Master Kagora - and I refuse to be kept waiting by a young upstart." Without waiting for a reaction, he surged into action, jabbing the offending martial artist just above the unprotected collarbone.

Coughing uncontrollably from the fire in her throat, the Amazon stumbled back, her guard left wide open. Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, Meyah floated close and deftly pulled the spasming warrior's helm off - just in time for her son to deliver a stunning blow with the flat of his bokken. Both had to leap clear when their attack was answered by a vicious swipe by a long sword. Cautiously the two parties backed off, warily measuring their respective opponents.

"BA FU MEI !! Drop your weapons - all of you!"

So sudden was the Amazons' unquestioning immediate obedience, that in the clatter of falling combat tools, Ranma very nearly followed suit - only barely catching his bokken in time. Submissively, the entire cadre of warriors parted to admit the commanding figure.

And, save for four of the Shinkasa members there was a shocked appraisal at the relative stature of said….figure. The trainees had braced themselves for many things, but a three and a half foot midget was not among the items considered. "My apologies for the rudeness of my people." Elder Khu Lon bowed her head toward the observing Masters. Turning to the waiting Amazons she barked harshly, "Pick up your weapons and get gone - I will deal with you later, Perfume."

Perfume? If that was a name, as suggested by the connotations, then it was a peculiar one by any account. Discarding the thought, Ranma returned to the conversation, thankfully continuing in Japanese.

"Master Meyah, Kinaro - it is good to see you once more." The addressed Masters inclined their heads in agreement.

Stepping forth, Kagora took over the more formal level of greetings. "Elder Cologne, may I present Kino Daikoto, Nagara Kuranami, Iyarasora Lano - who is Kinaro's kohai, and Saotome Ranma - mine."

"Ahhh, the fabled Saotome Ranma." Cologne managed a sizeable hop to land before the pigtailed boy. "Master Kagora has told me much about you - much…." she added with a critical glance at her friend "at least for Kagora - which is to say very little in effect."

The combination of being held in the spotlight, and the unaccustomed need to look downwards at a Master left the teenager a little lost for words. "I…um…it's a pleasure to meet you Elder Co-Cologne."

"Don't worry sonny boy", the old crone smiled understandingly, "You'll find that some of our names do not translate very well into your Japanese." All the while, she was cataloguing the aspects of this fine specimen. Fairly controlled chi, a body built for speed, the catlike grace inherent with people of that family - and he wasn't bad looking to boot. Oh yes, Cologne was very glad that she was the first to spot this Saotome Ranma.

Much to the pigtailed ninja's relief, the Amazon matriarch eventually turned her attentions onto the other members of the travelling party, whilst at the same time leading them into the village proper. And to Iyarasora Lano's comfort, upon arrival onto the main thoroughfare several of the heftier warriors were conscripted to port away the packed weapons, leaving the ninjas to carry the much lighter burdens of clothing and personal armament (in Joketsuzoku it was considered unthinkable that a true warrior leave his or her abode unarmed). Passerbys offered curious stares at the obviously exotic people - but with the presence of a matriarch Kagora and his group were left alone. Presently they were joined by a single Amazon - clearly of some credible rank from her golden armbands.

"if it is to your agreement, you will all be split up and billeted with various families around the village. Without waiting for any possible objections she continued, "Siu Wei will show you where you are to go, except Saotome - I can show you where my house lies."

Bowing in greeting, the named lady gestured for the body of the Clan members to follow her, leaving Kagora and his own kohai. "Now sonny boy, how good are you with directions? It doesn't matter - can you see the building with the five windows - all lit from within?"

Ranma nodded yes, his eyes tracking the direction of Cologne's cane as she pointed it out.

"That is the home of my family. Go there now and leave your baggage inside. Join us later when you are finished - I will be having a little chat with your sensei."

"Here Ranma," Kagora added, tossing the teenager his own backpack. "Take mine along as well."

"Hai sensei." Gathering up the bags in the most economically feasible way to carry, the pigtailed boy took off at a sprightly pace - heading for the indicated building.

"A powerful student - you did well in finding him Kagora." For the first time that night, her tone held a hidden temper of respect.

"Actually I cannot claim that honour - it was my daughter who found Ranma - in his very first submersion into the Nekoken."

"Ah yes, the mighty Catfist - we will have plenty to work on with that."

It was then that Kagora broke into the subject that had been troubling him since their arrival. "Khu Lon - I have been wanting to inquire for a while now….as to the situation leading up to our earlier confrontation with those Amazon guards."

"Internal politics," she replied, tight lipped.

Her old friend was silent, letting that convey the desire for more information.

Presently Khu Lon continued, "The woman who crossed your path - Ba Fu Mei - is the daughter of another family - one whose matriarch opposes the teaching of Amazon techniques to outsiders. The timing of her guard shift was no coincidence - Elder Tze Liang is just seeking to stir a little trouble - nothing more."

"You informed me in your missive that the council had unanimously agreed to our request for passage." The ninja master murmured.

"Kagora - a person in your position should know more than most that fortunes shift swiftly in politics. In the time since my posting, the Amazon have encountered….difficulty with the Musk - more so than usual." Shoulders sagging ever so slightly, the elder released a long due sigh - a sound which immediately caught Kagora's attention. "A few months ago, one of our border patrols had a minor skirmish with a Musk expeditionary group - nothing out of the ordinary - save that one of our warriors was killed from massive bruising inflicted by more than three hundred punches. Just before the attack, the Musk soldier was heard to cry 'Amaguriken'."

The air was heavy with a grim silence.

"That does not bode well for the Joketsuzoku."

The matriarch smiled thinly at that. "The master of understatement as always. As you know the Musk dynasty practice ki arts well beyond our abilities - if they were to use our own techniques with that much raw power, the outcome would be disastrous for my people."

"And so, the council worry about how their teachings have leaked to their enemies," Kagora finished.

"Yes, they worry." Holding out her ever-present staff, Khu Lon halted their slow pacing. "Kagora……I myself worry greatly for my people. I had hoped that the life which my Xian Pu was to face would be one of relative peace, but it seems that once more fate dictates otherwise."

For the first time in his memory, the old ninja held out a comforting hand to his mentor and friend. "The Amazons will persevere as they have for more than three millennia."

Perhaps more brusquely than intended, the wizened crone brushed off the support. "I passed my second century of life on this Earth nearly thirty years ago. I am old Kagora - old and very tired. In my village we have a saying - 'It is a curse to outlive one's children'. I have outlived my son, outlived his children, and their children - I will not live to see Xian Pu die before my time as well. If you ever survive beyond a hundred and fifty - to see Meyah wither and die, then Kagora you will understand."

"You have spoken of this to no one." It wasn't a question.

"Her tone was bitter with age and suppression. "After so many years, people forget or ignore that you are still human with a human soul. To most I am simply the constituent of the background - a constant in their short lives that has always been there, and always will be." Khu Lon seemed to visibly shake herself from the personal depression. "Old friend, what needs concern you is this. The council will never openly admit it, but the Amazons are dying. Too much time spent at war, and our society has festered within it a binding obsession with martial craft - less time for child rearing, villagers dying before they can procreate, youths leaving Joketsuzoku to seek fortune in the modern world - it all culminates to a diminishing population. Xian Pu's mother fell in such a manner, victim of a Musk arrowhead."

Hesitantly, the village matriarch paused before adding the final thought. "Our survival of the Japanese invasion was due to the help which your own father led - I fear that no amount of assistance will save the Joketsuzoku from their own destructive mentality."

"I will post a letter tonight to Shinkasa House - they will discourse to seek the best possible solution. It may only be a temporary situation, but the Shinkasa prosper in today's world - perhaps we can offer avenues for change. In the meantime the ninjas of the Clan stand ready to defend their allies if the need arises." Kagora's voice was quietly firm, a counterpart to Khu Lon's weariness.

"You needn't be so hasty old friend - the Musk are long in preparation, and as of yet the Amazons stand supreme in might within the Bayankala. I only pray that this may remain so for as long as possible - and we will come to need your wisdom for that."

"I share prayer that with you, Khu Lon. The Amazons were here when the Shinkasa five founded our Clan - I would hate to see the day that we outlive them."

**********

It was at this time that Saotome Ranma finally reached his assigned destination. Opening the sturdy wooden door, he noted casually that, as in the Clan House, there was no lock. Then again - in a place like this who would need one?

Releasing a heavy breath of air, the ninja trainee carefully dumped (if such a contradiction were possible) his load off to one side, and straightened to inspect his new abode. The décor was plain but functional - most of the furniture being constructed from naturally stained wood. Here and there were the occasional adornments - a Chinese ink painting draping a wall, or the jewel candle holders - perhaps a reminder of this family's elevated status within the Amazon hierarchy. A smouldering fire was the provision for heat - its earthly glow enhancing the warm feel to the spacious room. In passing, Ranma noted the wooden staircase across from where he stood which was presumably the access point for a sizable bank of rooms upstairs. It was in this passing that the ninja's senses were jolted into high alert.

Someone was descending those very stairs.

**********

Xian Pu was already dressed for bed when the unfamiliar noise of heavy baggage falling disturbed her preparations. While not so unusual in itself - it was the lack of the consistent tapping of great grandmother's cane which aroused her curiosity. Father was already sleeping, so by all rights there should have been no one to enter the house uninvited.

Still clothed in her night shift, the Amazon girl treaded out of her room and quietly paced down the main stairs, with the expectation that it would be some messenger with an urgent delivery. The figure that was eventually revealed, standing in front of the closed front door made her wish very greatly that she'd bothered to fetch her bonbori from the bedside cabinet. The obviously male intruder, dressed from head to toe in an ominous jet black certainly did not count in Xian Pu's criteria as a possibly friendly candidate.

It is likely that Ranma may have offered a more diplomatic greeting, had he himself been a little more braced for the totally unexpected sight of a curvaceous teenager swathed in a night gown which clung a little too tenaciously to her form for his liking. With that in mind (literally) all he could manage was a stammering, "H-hey…uh hi?" in his own language.

Placing both hands on her hips, which incidentally contorted the thin shift in alarming new directions, the Amazon angrily demanded in Japanese, "Who you?" Without waiting for an answer she added "Get out of house now or you be beaten good." To emphasize her intent, Xian Pu crouched into an attacker's stance.

The pigtailed boy was at a loss as to how to save this disintegrating situation. "Ahh look here I'm not really gonna fight ya."

Perhaps something critical in that line was lost in the translation - but certainly the result was far from hoped for. "WHAT?! You think you too too good stupid male….can……will no fight girl?" It was times like this that Xian Pu wished she'd taken the time to learn a few Japanese insults. "Stay here and me gives you pounding big time for that." Giving up on trying to clarify herself, the Amazon charged into the offensive.

Ranma managed to slip in a half strangled "Wait!" before he was forced to divert attention to defending against the onslaught. Twisting over the girl's underarm punch, he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun the teenager around into an ungainly twirl to buy some explanatory time. Huffing in indignation, Xian Pu almost shrieked "You DARE!" and hurled herself into a miasma of kicks and punches.

"You…" block "..don't.." twist "..un.." duck "..der.." sidestep "…stand!"

"Me KILL you!"

Resigned to the inevitability of ending this fight the ninja's way, the pigtailed boy abandoned attempts at speech and focused upon finding a suitable opening. With the Amazon as sloppy as she was in her anger, it was less than a few brief seconds before he found that opportunity. Raising his hand in response to a side punch, Ranma adroitly cupped his larger hand over her clenched fist and yanked the girl bodily to within pressure point range.

Expecting a martial artist's block to her punch, Xian Pu was ill prepared for the sudden over balancing of momentum. Keeling over towards the enemy her arms flailed wildly to compensate - leaving her wide open as Ranma with seeming effortlessness slid his other hand up her collar and around the neck.

The Amazon was gripped by a terrifying instant of fear as screaming senses took full realisation of that hand's location - and her vulnerability. But against her expectations of a choking vise, there was only a warm, gentle probing of fingers as the ninja rapidly searched for the correct position. In less than a second since his initial handhold Ranma found the spot, and swept two fingers up the path of the girl's carotid artery.

Xian Pu had only another instant to wonder at the curious movement before the resulting rush of blood to the brain blacked her out. Sagging in the ninja trainee's grip, she crumpled loosely to the floor.

For maybe a minute or two, Ranma was left standing perplexed at the current scenario. The Masters of Shinkasa had taught him countless moves, techniques and tricks to down an opponent (alive or dead), but they never mentioned what you were supposed to do after you had won.

Gingerly he kneeled and tried to find convenient handholds to carry the supine girl without infringing on some critical 'no-go' zones. Finally settling for an arm hooked under the knees, with the other cradling her body against his own, Ranma lifted the thankfully light girl and headed for the door.

After all, Elder Khu Lon's last command was to return to her after the baggage was delivered.

***********

Reawakening to the world of the conscious came quite soon after - though at first it was hardly appreciated in the least.

"Aiiyaaahhh…" Xian Pu moaned forlornly. She had never touched a drop of alcohol in her life - but it was a safe bet that this was what the grandsire of all hangovers would have felt like.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that - most people feel pretty awful after waking up from a blood surge. Here I'll fix it up for you."

The teenaged girl murmured wonderingly as she felt a surprisingly warm hand cradle the back of her head. A sudden flare of heat, and the hammering headache melted miraculously away into nothingness.

"There. Are you better now?" Ranma mumbled anxiously, whilst shifting his grip back into the carrying position.

It was then that Xian Pu realised that she was moving, and not of her own volition. The seemingly continuous sway, barely noticeable at all, was almost disconcerting in its liquid flow - as if she were being pushed along the flattest ice plate in the world. Opening her eyes revealed the not so unpleasant sight of the current mode of transport. The boy who was easily holding her weight, and who had just as easily defeated her earlier was of course the outsider dressed in black.

Defeated her. Finally, when she had thought herself supreme in the martial arts - an outsider male had entered her life and so effortlessly defeated her.

Staring in awe, Xian Pu retraced those last few thoughts - outsider, defeat.…….male.

Now, Ranma throughout the entire episode had been warily alert for any signs of reversion into that wild desire to 'kill' which had started this entire mess. The fact that the current source of possible bodily injury was currently being held against his very person only further served to heighten his caution.

Even so, he was caught off guard for what happened next.

"Airen…." The Amazon purred happily.

Bending his head down to look at her, the pigtailed boy's eyebrows quirked in confusion. "Excuse me? I'm sorry I don't speak Manda……"

Further speech was cut off as an arm snaked coyly round his neck and pulled him into a very passionately wet kiss. Stunned into immobility, the teenager very nearly dropped the amorous bundle of girl - his inaction allowing Xian Pu to hook her other hand and thus secure her new found husband.

For some of the longest seconds in his life, Ranma stood unmoving - frozen by both disbelief and wonder. It was when the violet haired girl began to sensuously slide her tongue into his mouth that brain power was abruptly restored. "Gyahhh!" he spluttered, breaking the liplock, "What do you think ya doin'?"

"Wo ai ni."

"Look I already told you…ahh tried to tell you - I don't speak your language." The hoped for quick remedy to this very contradictory situation was apparently not forthcoming.

Patiently the Amazon collected her thoughts, then mentally translated them into Japanese. "You is husband now. Amazon law say outside man defeat Amazon in challenge she become wife."

Ranma was sure that if this temperamental girl could have filled in the gaps in her sentences, he might have actually understood. Seeing his continuing confusion she murmured, "Go see great grandmother. She elder of village and explain more."

"What happened to the 'me kill you' part?"

Staring at her husband incredulously, she replied, "Why would Xian Pu kill her airen?"

"Ahh forget it. We'll just go see Elder Cologne to sort it out." The pigtailed teenager was at pains to hide the exasperation in his tone. It was then that a more immediate thought came to mind. "You should be able to walk by yourself now, shouldn't you?"

"Yes. Can walk now."

When after several long moments the cuddly purple haired girl made no move to extricate herself from his handholds, Ranma gave up and resigned himself to carrying the burden for a little while longer. He only prayed that Lano wouldn't be around to see this.

Sighing contentedly, Xian Pu snuggled closer, nestling her head against her airen's shoulder - yes, she could get very used to this.

**********

"Hey Ranma," the Korean casually offered as his companion lumbered past.

"Ahhh…h-hi Lano."

"Nihao, friend of airen." Xian Pu enthusiastically added from down below.

Shuffling at a more rapid pace, the pigtailed boy hurriedly disappeared around the corner. Gazing curiously at Ranma's peculiar behaviour, Lano offhandedly shrugged it off - attributing it to the new surroundings. A moment later……..Hold on…..what the…?

Both Matriarch and Master were still conversing in their parallel walk when an unexpected sight materialised before them. Only then did Ranma realised that he had neglected to prepare a suitable explanation. Innocently batting his eyes, the boy tried to convey that this close familiarity was none of his doing.

Kagora saw the affectionate manner of the Amazon teenager, and immediately deduced it. "Do you know Cologne, if I didn't know you better I would have sworn that you had orchestrated this on purpose."

"No Master Kagora - even I couldn't have planned a meeting between our heirs this well." Khu Lon suppressed a most undignified snigger behind an upraised hand. "And speaking of which, you can put my heir down now, Saotome."

"Could someone explain this to me please?" The ninja trainee was fairly begging as he delicately returned the passenger to earth.

"Boy is Xian Pu's airen now." The girl happily supplied.

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

"Xian Pu, I'll say this one more time - that boy is not your airen."

Standing with arms crossed in front of her, the object of Khu Lon's lecture huffed petulantly. "Is no fair - law say Xian Pu marry - Xian Pu obey law."

Silently hoping that her great great grand daughter was only being stubborn and not really this dim-witted, Khu Lon impatiently repeated herself. "I've already told you child, there is a sworn agreement that all of our challenge laws with outsiders are annulled with regard to Shinkasa members - save if the ninjas issue the challenge." Condescendingly, she added, "As your 'husband' is a Shinkasa Clan member last time I checked - which was five minutes ago, he is therefore not your husband. Now go outside and apologise to Saotome Ranma."

"No fair." Xian Pu muttered plaintively as she dutifully obeyed her elder's command.

Outside, Ranma wasn't having much of a better time. "Com'on Ranma who was that? You can't make me believe that a total stranger would just jump straight into your arms like that."

"Believe what you want - I'm telling you one moment she was vigorously punching and kicking me, then the next….well…..she was just vigorous." Ranma gruffly wished that his friend would just let the matter drop.

"Man. If I had a hat I'd take it off to you. We're here less than half-an-hour and you already rope yourself a really serious babe of a girlfriend. I never thought you had it in you." Lano's voice was truly awestruck.

"Shaddup Lano." Standing nearby, the Clan Masters smiled at that - such lines were a comfort so far from home.

The conversation was interrupted when both were illuminated by the opening doorway. From within emerged an inwardly beleaguered Khu Lon, followed shyly by her heir. "Saotome, I think it'd be best to begin by introducing this girl you…..met." Xian Pu had the good will to look somewhat embarrassed at her presumptuous kiss of marriage.

"Saotome Ranma, trainee of the Shinkasa Clan - may I introduce Shampoo of the Joketsuzoku and my kohai."

Subversively the said teenager turned to her guardian and whispered in Mandarin, "That's not my name great grandmother."

Cologne's tone was sharp in reprimand. "Shampoo! It is very rude to whisper in front of guests - especially in a language they can't comprehend. From now on you speak in Japanese and nothing else; and with regards to your name - that is how Japanese pronounce it and therefore it will be the way you say it and nothing else."

"So sorry Obasan." Whispering, the Amazon tested her new name - "Sham…poo" Hmmmm she wasn't so sure she liked that. Best to check the Japanese dictionary to find out what it meant.

"As I was saying," Cologne continued, "Shampoo is my heir and so lives with me. As such she will be living with you too. Any objections Sao…..?"

"Is no problem at all." Shampoo cut in hurriedly, her voice bubbly as she eyed her new housemate speculatively. No, definitely no problem.

Visibly irked, the old crone turned once again to the teenager. "I wasn't asking you child - Ranma is the one who was wrongly attacked without provocation. And incidentally you owe our guests an apology."

"No no Master Cologne - it's alright." Ranma swiftly interceded. "She didn't mean it……I'll be fine staying with you." Although he didn't like the way the girl was currently checking him out.

"Thank you, and we don't have 'Masters' in Joketsuzoku - Elder or sensei will suffice."

"Hai…sensei."

Now with that business completed, the family ruler set about re-directing her entourage to salvage what was left of the active night time. Shampoo was directed to head home and prepare the kitchen for a late meal, whilst the loitering Clan members were shepherded back to their respective billets. Surprised, the pigtailed ninja noticed that Kagora was amongst those being directed. "Master, aren't you staying with me?"

"No, a slight change of plans, I will be billeting with Meyah in the abode of Elder Lo Hong - my bags have already been moved from where you left them." Again was that suggestively sympathetic smile - he was fairly certain of at least some of the motivations behind the matriarch's 'suggestion' that the ninja master stay with his daughter. However protocol dictated that as a guest, it was not Kagora's place to make an issue of it - and in any case Ranma would always be protected by the agreement. "It'll be just Elder Cologne, her great grandson, and of course your good friend Shampoo." Saying no more, the ninja master departed leaving his kohai with Lano.

Wide-eyed Ranma stared at the retreating sight of a certain buxom figure. As if sensing his gaze, the Amazon turned her head and winked knowingly. "Oh Kami help me." The pigtailed boy fervently prayed.

"You lucky dog." Lano murmured appreciatively as he followed the direction of his friend's look. "That's one pretty girl you're living with." Almost hungrily his eyes traced the curves shaping her overrobe.

"You know Lano, you'd better be careful - you might slip on your own drool," the Anything Goes fighter commented dryly. When the Korean failed to respond, he gave up and headed off to sample the upcoming meal.

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

"Taste okay?" Shampoo asked anxiously.

Ranma nodded vigorously as he rapidly downed the steaming bowl of ramen - he was hungry, and the ingredients were very fresh despite the late hour. When after a while his mouth was actually clear, he replied, "It's really good - better than what I can make."

"You can cook too?" Mentally she chocked up another pointer to the 'things my ought to be airen can do' list.

"Shampoo go to bed now." Cologne commanded fitfully as she entered the room. "You'll have plenty of opportunity to pester Ranma later." Looking to the other, she added, "Ranma your room is upstairs, second door on the left. I trust it will suffice to your needs. The bathroom is the next door further on." Without awaiting any response, the matriarch hopped upon the cane up to her own rooms, surprisingly swift considering her chosen mode of travel.

"Hai great grandmother." Shampoo called to the now empty doorway. Reluctantly the purple haired teenager abandoned her seat beside the new guest, and with a cheerful wave bounced her way up the stairs. "Have nice sleep, yes?"

"Yeah goodnight….Shampoo." Pointedly ignoring exactly what parts of the Amazon actually 'bounced' with her passage, Ranma finished off his late night supper and, after cleaning off the crockery, followed wearily after the pair with his travelling pack and weapons kit.

His designated room was Spartan, but as Cologne had stated - serviceable to his basic requirements. Light during the day time would be easily provided by the large gabled window dominating one wall of the space, whilst during the night a simple kerosene lamp suspended from the ceiling provided sufficient illumination. Over in the far left corner stood a raw pine desk and chair, with a floor bed and roomy closet finishing the ensemble of furniture.

Without bothering to unpack, the ninja trainee hastily dumped his canvas backpack inside the wardrobe - only pausing to pull out the extra blanket tucked into a side drawer. As an afterthought, he wafted over to the weapons case and withdrew the bokkens; in Shinkasa House Ranma had been obligated to sleep with arms in close reach - part of a grey bandanna's regime included regular training to cope with surprise attacks during the sleeping hours. Even though it was unlikely that he would need to defend himself over in the new home, old habits died hard.

**********

Next door to the resting ninja, Shampoo was similarly attired and prepared for sleep, save for the fact that she had taken a moment to consult a thickish paperback book. Closer inspection would have revealed that it was in fact a Chinese/Japanese dictionary - and very difficult to use considering that neither language had a proper means to catalogue the thousands of characters in the language. After several long minutes she finally located the sought after words. Running her finger along the pronunciation guide, she recited aloud. "Shann….Sham poo. Noun definition. Any cleaning agent used to clean HAIR? Alternatively for vehicles, cars and so forth."

Without bothering to discover the various meanings of her name as a verb (it couldn't possibly have remedied the situation), Shampoo annoyedly flung the book into the corner. Hair cleaning agent indeed. With that came the realisation that for all this time Ranma had presumably known the ridiculousness of he translation, and pointedly tried to keep a straight face. Cheeks flushing in humiliation, the violet haired girl reluctantly retrieved the rather battered dictionary and opened it once again - she needed to find one other word first.

'Ma', she already knew - it was the same in both Mandarin and Japanese. 'Ran' on the other hand……

Slowly a vicarious smile found its way into Shampoo's visage - Wild Horse. Oh yes, she liked that very much.

Very much indeed.

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Put the choice (eg. girl, boy, chicken etc.) in the subject by itself, and if you want, a reason why in the body of the email. And that will serve as well as a vote of sorts. This series is not going to be a 'Choose your own Adventure', just that I have so many ideas about what to do with Ranma depending on what he becomes, and not enough time to write them all down. As always I greatly appreciate C&C, and my thanks to those people who have continued to take the time to write it - no matter how long or short.

Or email at dojohouse@xoommail.com