Way of the Ninjitsu.

 

A Fanfiction by Jason Wong.

Inspired by Rumiko Takahashi's Ranma 1/2.

 

 

Chapter 8 The True Ninja.

 

 

 

 

 Day 1.

High above the rugged ridges of the Bayankala Ranges, a golden barred falcon could be seen riding the Spring updrafts as it weaved gracefully between the peaks. To any lucky observer it was an extreme rarity to say the least, for falcons as a rule were not to be found for hundreds of kilometres around these mountains.

The fact that this particular species had also been extinct for a thousand years might have also given one cause to wonder.

Shinkasa Meyah, blinked dazedly as she drank in the pure euphoric freedom that only one born to fly could ever understand. This was what she truly missed the most in her choice to remain a sensei at Yamakaro - for the usage of one's alternate form was strictly forbidden in and around the main house of the Shinkasa.

As such, the Swordmaster had taken every opportunity in the months of her stay with the Amazons to make such outings, cherishing every minute before the inevitable return to Japan and reality.

With the sharpness of vision that would have been the envy of any marksman archer, the Swordmaster noted a familiar elderly man, dressed sombrely in a dark, nearly black gi, holding a single wrist outstretched. Without even thinking, her falcon's mind sought out the beneficial wind-currents, alternately banking and gliding for a gentle decent towards the clearly indicated perching point.

It seemed that playtime was over once more.

Shinkasa Kagora watched with a little envy as his daughter alighted gracefully upon the proffered perch. Sometimes, like these times, he wondered what it would have been like to have fallen into the Spring of a winged animal.

Ah well, the joys of flight were never to be his, and in the meantime..."And how fares the weather today, Master Meyah?"

Of course a proper answer had to be waited upon until after she was in a form better suited to answer the query.

And, as well, he had to await the appropriate time for her to properly attire herself, though for the sake of his interminable patience, she was dressed with practiced ease.

"Very well - I can get very used to the Springtime weather. Indeed if you had arrived but ten minutes earlier, you would have observed Master Kinaro revelling in the same breezes." Meyah's mouth crinkled at the image. Being the musclebound truck lifter that Kinaro was, he was none too keen at being caught in his alternate form.

The gift of the ability of flight was a wondrous fortune to be sure – but...a pigeon was a pigeon, and the Weapons Master considered it a slight on his image to be seen as such.

"Enough on the trivialities." Kagora's more sombre tone cut through her musings. "Ranma needs your counsel."

Instantly attentive, Meyah at once started down the track way at a brisk jog, not even bothering to see if the Ninja Master followed. "Is something amiss?"

"Yes, though my kohai is himself unaware of it." Kagora smiled wryly. "He has been trying to master one of your self-created dance katas, but with no success. Too much fretting and nerves by far."

"Ah, I see, the upcoming trial." She playfully nudged her father. "Getting too old to deal with the heartaches of us 'young 'uns'?"

"Hardly." His offended glare was brief, though. "But I thought you would have liked to be the one to consult with him – after all, you are his mother."

Her expression darkened to match that of her teacher. "Yes, I am."

With no more to be added to that thought, the remainder of the journey was continued in relative calm.

**********

Closer to the hub of settlements, known by its inhabitants as the village of the Joketsuzoku, a slender, chestnut-brown haired girl was avidly watching her life-long friend as he danced.

For it truly was a dance - the unsheathed and very sharp katanas in use might have attested to the lethality of the movements - but for the cat-like grace, and unyielding liquid swiftness of the practitioner, this could only be called a dance.

Ukyou smiled fondly as she noted the pair of mini-spatulas, her mini-spatulas, tucked securely into the front band of Ranma's shoulder sheath. Like the sponge for new fighting techniques that he was, the fighter had quickly seen the benefits of her family's style in substituting the shuriken with their very unorthodox weaponry, and had consequently adopted the throwing spatula over the stars used more commonly by the other Shinkasa ninjas.

Although as a rule, projectiles, and other such weaponry tended to be more the domain of Lano than the pigtailed fighter - given the Weapon Master heir's general disposition towards such.

Throwing that thought aside, the okonomiyaki chef returned her attention to the kata, and the boy who was performing it. Ranma had grown in the past months, as had they all, she imagined. It was a little hard to notice the differences - what when you had seen and lived with these people every day - but the changes were there. He was a little taller, a little broader - and that pigtail which to this day he had some weird obsessive streak over, was a tad longer, reaching all the way down past his shoulder blades.

Unthinkingly, Ukyou reached behind to fondle her own luxuriantly long ponytail, still as ever tied in its simple elastic band, and falling loosely down to her waist. Tied low to the neck – a boy's ponytail.

Hmm. Maybe it was time for a few changes here and there. She hadn't changed her hairstyle since...well since the Saotome's had abandoned her.

No, that wasn't right – Ranchan had never deserted her. She smiled in recollection. Good ol' Ranchan - as loyal as the town dog...err, cat...whatever. He'd never, ever abandon you. The brown-haired girl almost looked about, wondering where that thought had come from.

*Thud!!*

Ukyou blinked, startled back to the present, and staring quizzically at the cutting edge of a certain katana that had materialised a few feet down the bench she was sitting upon - still quivering from where its point was lodged between the wooden slats.

"Kuso." In an uncharacteristic display of frustration, Ranma swore again and, red-faced with embarrassment, stepped over to retrieve his errant blade. "I'm really sorry about that Ucchan."

She smiled a little to show her unconcern. "Actually, that was a pretty fine throw there."

Cheeks darkening further as his chagrin increased, the pigtailed boy gingerly rubbed the back of his head. "I was aiming for the tree stump." He pointed at the proposed target - squatting in the opposite direction.

"Oh." A silly mistake then. In martial arts. From Ranma.

"Hey Ranchan, are you feeling okay?" She looked up in genuine worry.

"Yeah yeah." The fighter waved off her concern, before returning to the aborted kata.

He lasted for another three minutes.

Ukyou winced slightly in sympathy as Ranma stumbled over a complicated balance point turn. That final error seemed to throw off his determination entirely, as the boy disgustedly pulled out of the forms and reluctantly re-sheathed his blades.

"You're heart's just not in it today, eh sugar?"

"So it seems." He sat down heavily beside the brown-haired girl, leaning back to take in the bright blue mountain sky.

But even then, Ukyou could sense his worry in the atmosphere. "Thinking about the final trial?"

There was a long silence, and for a moment she feared he had fallen asleep. But, eventually, he answered, "Yeah, I guess." The reply came more as a released sigh. "Only two days, Ucchan, Two days." He sat up wearily. "And then I find out what new body I get."

The chef mused on that. A new body. Definitely one of the things commonly reserved for fantasy novels and science fiction - not something she had ever expected to deal with personally. Indeed, if it weren't for the fact that Meyah-san had demonstrated this shape-shifting capability herself, she would never have truly believed it.

Apparently, this ability was amongst the most closely guarded Clan secrets in the Shinkasa - indeed the vast majority of its members were totally unaware of its existence at all.

But, the Masters had seen fit to include her within this minute group who did know. She smiled fondly at the boy beside her - that had to be Ranchan's doing. He wanted her to be a part of the audience that would see him rise out of the trainee status into a true ninja, and to see him fight in ritual combat over Jusenkyou.

And for that, she would have to be privy to what would become Ranma's own personal secret to guard - the knowledge of his alternate form. It was touching to say the least, that he had such an open and unquestioning faith in her.

But then again, they were best friends, right?

Turning back to the boy beside her, she noticed that the pigtailed trainee was still fretting over his woes. "Com'on honey, it'll turn out alright. Your Mum and Sensei went through it."

"I'm...I'm just worried what I might end up with. And besides..." he lightly grasped the pommel of the katana, "...it's also a very important day to us ninja trainees."

Playfully, the okonomiyaki chef jabbed her companion in the ribs. "What are you sitting here for then, ya lazy slob? I'll be expecting a good show from you then when the trial begins - and for that, that means more training." Affectionately, she shoved the larger boy back onto the field.

Unable to deny her infectious humour, Ranma beckoned her to follow suit. "So confident are we? How about we have a little sparring to see who's the one that really needs a little practice?"

Smiling, Ukyou reached behind to unhook her ever-present battle spatula, before a quietly firm voice interrupted their banter.

"My apologies at the intrusion, but may I borrow your friend for a moment or two?" Meyah addressed the girl in mock gravity.

"Sure, no problem at all, uh Master Meyah." Caught a little off guard, Ukyou stumbled uncomfortably - even up till now she was never quite sure what to make of the mild teasing that perpetually seemed to emanate from both this woman and her father.

"I'll only be a moment, Ucchan - why don't you go see how Shampoo's doing?" Ranma smiled sheepishly as he made to follow his sensei.

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

"So, what did you want to see me for?" Though his voice was studiously neutral, Meyah could feel the underlying tension there.

"We're going to clear up the final knowledge that you are required to learn before your upcoming trials."

'Trials'. Again that word - the word, which ever since he had donned the Tiger's emblem, signified a passing of...

"Tell me what you know of the battle to come."

In truth there was little to say. There would only be one combat trial to pass within the week – a single contest to prove himself both worthy of the black bandanna, and...well..."I take it you mean the duel over Jusenkyou?"

"Yes indeed."

"Well..." what was there to say? He had known the rules before even embarking on this expedition all those months back. Master and student would meet; Master and student would fight; and student would get his arse kicked into a 'cursed' pool. A passing side thought occurred to him then.

"Master Meyah, what happens if I win the testing tournament?"

The lady swordmaster smiled fondly. "You know I was just waiting for you to mention that." Turning, she led the way towards her own quarters in the village. "Have we reached that stage of skill that we are so confident at besting a Master of the Shinkasa?"

The pigtailed ninja returned the wry humour. "You never know...I am after all the best of the best."

"Well, my very best of the best son, should you manage the rather unlikely event of toppling your opponent before he or she fells you, you will be allowed a very rare honour." She paused for effect. "You will be allowed to choose your alternate form."

Ranma's face jerked up at that. "Choose? As in to pick my own pool to, ah…swim in?"

"Yes indeed. It is extremely rare, but not unheard of."

Her son lingered as he considered this. "Has anyone ever beaten his master since you've been around?"

"Oh yes in fact, by coincidence, someone you would know quite well I'd say." Her eyes mildly twinkled in mischief.

Ranma's quick cat's eyes saw and noted it immediately, his burgeoning suspicions arising further when he detected something upon his mother that one would never have imagined one such as her to carry - a faint blush.

"You?" Following on in an intuitive guess, he continued in revelation. "It was Master Kagora wasn't it? He was your sensei before you came to masterhood." Quickening his pace, Ranma looked to the Swordmaster, trying to imagine a younger Meyah, still a black band ninja, duelling with her own father atop the precarious bamboo peaks of the Jusenkyou Springs.

And winning.

And even at that, Ranma was unable to fully formulate the scenario - in all his time under the tutelage of the old Ninja Master, one of the paramount lessons both practised and drilled into the student was the ultimate importance of caution - that you could trust nothing, and expect nothing of your opponent.

Even the most general of plans rarely ever carry through - and if they do so, that is probably due to the intentions of your enemy. Enter the arena with no expectations, and you will never be disappointed.

It had taken the young Ranma several weeks of continuous nasty surprises during training to figure out what Kagora had meant by those very words.

And now, to hear of the same Master actually falling victim to the same miscalculation - well, how was that even...

"S-so, you chose to become a...a falcon?"

"It was always a childhood dream of mine - the gift of flight." Meyah sighed wistfully in remembrance. "Of course I could never have possibly imagined then, that I would actually be able to experience such fantasies in the real world." Seeing the look of trepidation on the boy's face, she added reassuringly, "Fear not, nobody seriously expects you to defeat your opponent over Jusenkyou. I was seven years your senior in both age and experience before my time came to challenge my Master.” She smiled encouragingly. “I was a lot feistier then as well, with many more techniques and pure field knowledge than you currently possess – and even then my victory was mostly due to luck.”

“Luck?”

“Yes, good fortune is what allows burgeoning trainees to defeat those vastly superior to them in skill and experience – and potentially your worst adversary, should your enemy possess it, and not yourself.” She paused to sidestep a man pulling along a cart of freshly picked vegetables. “In my case, it so happened that Master Kagora in one instant put faith in a bamboo post that was rotten from within. It broke, he stumbled for that instant, and I won.”

“And so you became a falcon.” Her son’s eyes narrowed in consideration. There wasn’t much else one could say to that.

In due course the pair arrived at the home where the Swordmaster was billeted. Entering without fanfare, Meyah gestured for her charge to sit by the communal table. "Wait here, Ranma. I have something...special for you."

Curiosity seriously piqued, the young ninja nonetheless waited patiently outside. It was rare that his mother ever personally gave any material items to her son - most of his possessions being handled through the Clan House organisation. Her return was swift however, and carried in her arms was a vaguely familiar mahogany brown carrying case, complete with shoulder strap and hinged along its length.

Floating over to the table, the Shinkasa Master delicately laid down the narrow case, running her hands down to undo the brass locks. Standing as he was behind his mother, the pigtailed boy could only catch a glimpse of what was revealed as she quietly opened the well worn lid - but soon the contents were revealed as Meyah, turning around, held out the items to her son.

Two katanas.

Shinkasa Meyah's prized, perfect katanas.

At first forgetful of their purpose here, Ranma could only reverently take hold of the blades - weapons which he had not held for more than five years past. Almost hesitantly, he partially pulled one from its sheath, revealing its finely oiled and balefully perfect edge. Drawing the sword fully, displayed here and there, the occasional scratch and discolouration along the flat - evidence of the katana having been actually used rather than serving merely as ornamentation.

And it was around about now, that Ranma fully recalled why they were here, and hastily returned both katanas to their case. "Master Meyah, y-you're not seriously..."

Smiling warmly, the Swordmaster interrupted. "My grandfather presented these as a gift for my upcoming ascension as a Master of the Shinkasa - and now I present them to you, though not as a Shinkasa Master, but as a mother." Seeing signs of further protest, she continued firmly, "Ranma, I am now Swordmaster, and my duties lie in passing on our Art to further generations. My time in the field is past, and thus such fine weapons would go to waste in my hands."

For perhaps the first time since her son's mastery of the Catfist, Meyah observed the boy to be speechless. He knew very well how much his mother valued these swords - her only heirloom from the man who had given her the skills to be the master of these very weapons. And now...and now, she was just...

"Ranma, they are yours, and unless you do not wish for them that is the end of the matter." The warm lilt to her tone contrasted sharply with the firm insistence.

And thus, the pigtailed trainee could only bow formally, and give his thanks. "Master Meyah, I...I don't know what to say."

"Then say nothing, and get back to training - I'll expect you to give a good accounting of yourself now that you are fitfully armed as a true ninja."

Nodding once more, the boy seemed ready to depart, but suddenly on impulse moved towards his sensei.

And Shinkasa Meyah, the lady who had shouldered the immense responsibility to be the carer and supporter of the Clan’s finest and potentially most dangerous trainee, found herself engulfed in the warmest of hugs.

“Thank you, mother.”

And in that instant, if she could have ever possibly doubted it before, one thing was once again re-affirmed –

It had been worth every second.

Reaching out and returning the embrace in full, Meyah cherished the feel of the moment, so very rare these days. After...after a certain incident which none cared to remember, Ranma had become so much like her father – mild mannered, and loathe to reveal his emotions – if indeed he had any to expose at all.

After what seemed to be the longest of moments, though not nearly long enough, the Swordmaster released her hold on her son. "Thank you, Ranma. You do us all proud." She smiled her acknowledgment as he, almost reluctantly turned about and swiftly left the room – the weapons case tucked securely under an arm.

Once free of his close presence, the Shinkasa leader returned once more to her musings, absently straightening out her dark grey workman’s shirt. Every day now, that pigtailed ninja was more a man than the boy she had raised from childhood – Ranma’s maturity even more emphasised by his oftime taciturn and solemn nature. She grew worried over that last thought – it appeared to be a mildly disturbing trait carried by both men in her life – both who had survived a Catfist cleansing. Though they had never outwardly revealed it, she was well aware that Kagora and Ranma shared some unspoken understanding on the matter – something that she could neither comprehend nor ever be party to.

And to be an outsider of such a critical part to her son’s life and livelihood vexed her to no end. And added to that the pestering annoyances of all those Amazon girls, and the upcoming combat trial, and Jusenkyou, and…and…

“Ahh…” the lady ninja pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Perhaps I worry too much.” Or perhaps it’s time to take a break at playing ‘mother’ every minute of your life.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Meyah headed for her quarters upstairs. Now she needed to find herself another pair of katanas to use for the while.

*********

Ukyou eventually found her purple haired friend in another area of the village practicing - oh big surprise - at her martial arts. By some coincidence of timing, it happened that the Amazon heiress would be facing her trial of childhood only a few days before Ranma confronted his own - the point where she was no longer a 'child' but a warrior.

Her very first village champion tournament. And as the student and great-great-great...or however many it was...granddaughter of a matriarch of the Joketsuzoku, she was expected to reach amongst the best. Of course Shampoo being Shampoo and, as Ukyou secretly thought, influenced by her constant contact with Ranma - the Amazon had high determinations to be ‘the’ best.

And for that Shampoo had been pushing herself to the limits - furiously mastering the Amaguriken, and several other Amazonian techniques with alarming swiftness. Of course Matriarch Cologne had no complaints in that department - not when her heiress was forcing herself to learn techniques that wouldn't have been expected of someone five or more years her senior.

Ukyou sighed wistfully, and with no small pang of jealousy. It seemed everyone save for a certain okonomiyaki chef was making prodigious advancements in the Arts. Well, that wasn't entirely true - she'd learnt a few tricks from Ranchan - among them how to do that infernally annoying neck tapping trick he so liked to use to knock out opponents.

"BAKUSAI TENKETSU!!" The chef snorted rudely at the comical way Shampoo's baby-doll high pitched voice coped with what was supposed to be an awe inspiring cry. In truth, though significantly aiding her overall ultra-kawaii demeanour, the young Amazon’s natural tone was ill-suited for the tasks of threats and menacing. Indeed, every time she heard that petulant sounding war cry, Ukyou wasn't able to dispel the persistent image of a little girl jumping up and down in a temper tantrum 'cause Momma wouldn't get her that nice red balloon...

Of course, when the rock that Shampoo had devoted her attentions to literally exploded into thousands of razor sharp slivers, forcing Ukyou - even at her distance - to whip out her battle spatula to block with the flat, well, perhaps the 'Bakusai Tenketsu' wasn't so childish after all.

'What Spatula Girl laughing at?" The purple haired martial artist huffed between breaths, still exhausted from her ordeal. Amongst the wide array of Amazon techniques, the Bakusai Tenketsu was perhaps one of the more unpopular ones – and that only made the Amazon warrior even more proud that she had taken to mastering it.

And Ukyou could easily see why others tended to avoid it – she had considered learning it herself, before discovering the rock smashing, face breaking training involved. Looking on as Shampoo sauntered closer, she felt another mild stab of jealousy at the voluptuous girl’s charms, and glaringly obvious femininity – both apparently unaffected by their repeated impact with boulder sized stones.

Leave it to sexily alluring Amazon princesses to also have marathon healing abilities to supplement their...healthy bodies.

The chef blinked back to the present to see the other girl’s deep crimson eyes staring challengingly into her own. “Perhaps Shampoo need remind laughing spectator about who is better warrior here?” She waved a small machete in a vaguely threatening manner.

“Hey hey now, sugar!” Ukyou took an involuntary step backwards, hands held up in supplication. But her good-natured smirk returned once more. “It wouldn’t do for me to kick your ass so close to your championships now would it?”

Shampoo growled in mock fury. “Take moment and let Shampoo make Spatula girl eat words along with spatula.”

“Did I miss something?”

Both girls looked up in the realisation that the new voice belonged to neither of them - Shampoo being the first to notice the pigtailed boy in red. Smiling radiantly with genuine happiness, she sang out her greeting. “Nihao, Ranma!!”

The words were shortly accompanied by a scandalously affectionate hug, one that Ranma stiffly endured with good grace. It had become a sort of tradition for her to welcome him in such a manner – and the fact that he let her and only her do that infuriated the other Amazon girls to no end.

Of course the violet haired girl only saw it as her well deserved right, given that it had taken her nearly two months to work her beloved into putting up with it. “Airen miss me?”

Ranma only sighed wearily. That was the other thing he had, over the many weeks, grown accustomed to – her pet name for him which she took so much delight in using.

Standing a little off to the side, Ukyou could only frown in mild disapproval. She had never favoured the idea that another would have their special name for her Ranchan...after all you could only have one best friend...and...and...

“Leave off it, Shampoo.” The ninja trainee shifted uncomfortably, as the bosomy girl teasingly rubbed herself against him.

Giving a childish pout, the Amazon girl nonetheless obediently, albeit reluctantly, disentangled herself from the taller boy. “Ranma is no fun – no let Shampoo have her fun.”

The not so discreet cough reminded the pair of the presence of the third member to their party. “So, you done with Shinkasa-dono? What did she have to say?”

Inwardly relieved at the convenient change of subject, Ranma brought the wooden case to the fore, opening it briefly for the girls to see. “A sort of ‘good luck’ gift.”

“Wow.” Ukyou had little knowledge about what made a katana a ‘good’ katana, but she could recognise the reverence in his handling. “Think you can learn to use them in time?”

“That’s what I’m going to try to find out soon enough.” His eyes narrowed in thought – it was considered poor practice to discard the weapons one had grown accustomed to, so close to battle. Even if they were superior katanas, he needed time to familiarise himself with their handling and balance.

And yet, Master Meyah had presented the blades with the full knowledge that his trial lay only two days ahead. Still...“Say Ucchan, still up for that little spar?”

*********

"The mighty Shooting Star doth falleth from above!" Kuno Tatewaki hesitated but an instant before sliding into his final and modified technique. "Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike!..."

And just as furiously, Saotome Nodoka - mother, matriarch, and now sensei, dodged the blows that she could and rode the others with her bokken. Months of furious practice, and her only student had now shown a remarkable ability...

"...Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike!..."

...to maintain his best attack...

"...Strike! Strike! Strike!..."

...for remarkably long periods of time. Indeed, she had soon discovered that unless one were to retaliate, Kuno Tatewaki could keep up this 'striking'  business practically indefinitely. "Enough Kuno!" She finally called - loudly enough to be heard over the racket generated by their clashing wooden blades.

Releasing his in-held chi with an exhaustive breath, the tall, handsome upperclassman respectfully lowered his guard. At last! Weeks upon weeks of unending practice at his glorious kendo, and he had finally fought the vaunted Saotome Nodoka, his sensei, to a complete standstill.

Oh the Gods were smiling on Kuno Tatewaki today!

Breathlessly, Nodoka placed her own bokken to the side, astutely observing her opponent's own weapons. Finally reaching what he saw as a mastery of the kendo usage of a single sword, the teenager had taken on his so called 'true calling of a samurai' - combat with a katana and wakazashi simultaneously.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, depending on whose perspective you took it from, the swordsman had proved extremely able to cope with the entirely new way of dealing with an opponent - long sword for range, short sword for point defence. A true samurai indeed.

"As I have always said Kuno, once you move out of the rigid constraints of your strict kendo forms, you become an unbeatable foe." That was what had taken the Saotome matriarch the better part of three months - to finally convince her oftime stubborn student that there was more to the sword than just what his strict kendo katas and forms taught.

"Remember Tatewaki, flexibility is the key to success - you must adapt to any and all situations - situations that often the 'by-the-book' teachings have no counter against. Katas are for training and focusing your will – but outside the hall your battle must be as formless as possible." Settling her bokken back onto the dojo rack, she continued. “For if your enemy is able to read your form, the outcome stands halfway towards your loss.”

"I hear and obey, my sensei!" The tall boy proclaimed proudly. He looked down at the pair of weapons held in his hands - by the great Musashi Miyamoto's 'Book of Five Rings' he now practiced one of the greatest forms in the history of the blade. His Art was perfect - none could ever hope to surpass the unsurpassable Shooting Star.

That last thought abruptly brought the Kuno heir's gaze towards his sensei – well, almost nobody. And now, he grinned, a smile tinted slightly with the maniacal, now mine own true love awaits - oh tender, sweet Akane, how you must pine in the absence of thy one true love! "But fear not my love, I come once more to welcome you into my open, loving embrace!" He seemed unaware of the open voicing of that last statement.

But Nodoka only smiled approvingly. She had seen the supreme effort her student had placed in his study under her tutelage. One could only pray and hope that he would receive his just rewards for such an endeavour.

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

Shampoo stood a little off to the sidelines, arms folded under her ample bosom in visible disapproval. She was more than a little miffed that her Airen had not even considered her, and instead chosen the spatula girl as his sparring partner. After all wasn’t she, the prospective village champion, a much more suitable candidate to test ones skills with?

And besides, Shampoo just knew she was definitely a good deal nicer to look at in the midst of...err...active sport.

Totally ignorant of her purple haired friend’s displeasure, Ukyou crouched in preparation - battle spatula held in readiness, and trying not to let the nervousness in her mind affect the determination of her spirit.

Fighting Ranchan held mixed emotions for the okonomiyaki chef. On the one hand she delighted that he considered her a proper martial artist, and therefore a worthy opponent. On the other...well...even now his oftime extreme ‘almost but not quite’ killing blows put her on edge and reminded her of memories she’d have sooner forgotten (recollections usually involving the last time she had taken to sparring with the pigtailed boy).

The fact that he was using real katanas did little to aid her composure.

“Ready, Ucchan?”

“Yeah, sugar.” Or as ready as she ever would be.

Without preamble, Ranma settled in to make the first move – a simple double chop meant to test the speed of her defence.

Making full use of the longer reach of her weapon, the Kuonji girl responded accordingly, and adding a vigorous thrust with the razor front of her spatula, forced her attacker to back off to a more respectful range.

Shampoo continued to eye the match with feigned disinterest, mentally noting every flaw she saw in the chef’s technique, and adding each to the ‘why Ranma should have challenged me instead’ list.

Back and forth the exchanges continued, sparks flying as well honed metal clashed in a furious tempo to match that of the fighters. Two minutes into the session – longer than any held before – and Ukyou was already well convinced of one thing. “Stop playing with me, and finish it dammit!”

“I’m not playing with you.” Ranma stated mildly between parries. “These...” *clang*  “...blades are sharp. I hafta...” *whoosh* “...finda proper opening.”

The fact that the usually silent ninja fighter had responded at all only convinced Ukyou of the truth of her words. Nonetheless, she pressed on, drawing on months of observation of her best friend’s fighting styles.

And still, the fight seemed to her more of a case of disturbingly near misses, as she vainly sought to cover the attacks from both his katanas with her single spatula.

The bright, shining sound of razor sharp edges sliding cleanly across each other soon signalled her doom, and imminent decapitation. Ukyou squeaked terrified as she sensed the meeting point of those two balefully deadly katanas close alarmingly fast like a pair of scissors, and towards her exposed throat.

And stopped. Breathlessly, the brown haired girl opened eyes that she hadn’t even been aware were shut, to see her neck cradled ever so gently within the scissors grip of the reverse edge of his swords.

“Spatula girl last only twelve more seconds after talking – and that with Airen taking time.” Shampoo grinned patronizingly. “Now, is time to show her what real battle is like.” And leaving her beloved no time to voice opposition, she pulled a pair of bonbori from nowhere and immediately pressed into the attack.

Experience told the purple haired girl that it wasn’t worth the ‘honourable’ custom to wait for your opponent to prepare himself – at least not with Ranma.

The said ninja trainee had barely enough time to disengage his blades in order to meet the new threat, leaving Ukyou sprawled somewhat bewildered upon the hard dirt. But meet the new attack he did, and with a surge of sheer strength, the ninja trainee managed to throw off the Amazon’s double armed swing.

Before moving for a counter attack, the pigtailed ninja took a moment for an inwardly held sigh. Another day, another duel.

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

Away on another land, another battle was taking place, though of a very different nature. Tendo Akane, sixteen years of age, and sole heir to the School of Anything Goes Martial Arts stood rigidly on one end of the family’s substantial back gardens, facing a straw stuffed training dummy that had been firmly driven into the soil on the opposite end of the terrain.

She continued to stand, no outward sign of movement, other than the light Spring breeze briefly stirring her long hair.

But within, Akane was a seething mass of turbid emotions, only barely held in check by her pure willpower alone. Thoughts raced like arcing currents through her consciousness – angry thoughts – thoughts about the daily encounters outside the school entrance every morning, thoughts about the lecherous challenges, the photos that were distributed like playing cards through the student body.

Thoughts about the one who had started it all.

**********

Tendo Soun – the so-called sensei of the Tendo branch of the Mutsabeto Kakuto Ryu, gently slid aside the screen, hoping to let the Sun’s warm afternoon rays alight his soon to be imminent victory over his friend’s shattered position. Saotome Genma in the meantime continued to muse over the shogi board, wondering if by some act of the Kami his companion would look away long enough for him to errrr...‘correct’ his loss.

The dull crack of a tea cup landing upon hard wooden flooring brought his attention from the mocking game board. “Tendo-kun?” He commented, seeing his old time friend’s slack-jawed expression.

“Saotome. My daughter is glowing.”

It took several long seconds for the long haired man’s words to be properly acquired and translated within the stout martial artist’s mind. And when he did...“Say again?” Without waiting for an answer though, he quickly scrambled to his feet to join his companion by the porch.

Oblivious to both her newfound audience and the crimson burning aura of energy that swirled chaotically around her tough frame, Akane continued her unstinting, unbreakable focus, letting the single, frighteningly powerful emotion course through her blood – fuelling her soul with giddying energy.

Slack-jawed, Genma gaped in shock alongside his old friend. “Tendo-kun, I swear I never taught her this.”

Convinced that she had reached that indefinable point where neither mind nor body could take any more, the youngest Tendo bolstered her spirit, vying for control over the uncontrollable emotion – and steadily compelled the energy to obey her bidding, and move to her open palmed hands. “Ryuujin…”

Soun was forced to squint away weeping tears as the brightness overcame his vision.

“...no Rekka...” even as she commanded the words of focus, Akane felt her breath gasp at the sheer power that threatened to explode from between her cupping hands. But now, now was the time to unleash...

“...HA!!!”

The shockwave blew away the forgotten shogi game -  and half the window screening that protected the Tendo home from the outside elements.

As for the training dummy – well, that and the stone compound wall behind it were most assuredly obliterated, though in the Sun blinding light of her projection, Akane was never to know the full extent of her attack before she passed exhausted into fitful blackness.

Vainly covering burning eyes with one arm, Saotome Genma nonetheless relished in the pleasure of his master student’s success – the memory of her moment seared into his brain just as the light of her technique had seared his vision.

Soun was inevitably more direct. “Oh, my baby girl’s first proper chi technique!” he wailed plaintively, his promise made years ago to stop weeping so much, gone with his fatherly pride. The crying only grew more intense at the discovery that his beloved baby daughter was unconscious – lying face deep in the smoking beginnings of her own destructive trail. “My poor Akane’s dying too!”

“Now, now Tendo,” Genma hurriedly interceded. “Your Akane’s fine...” he hastily rolled her over as proof “...see?”

To reveal her charred bangs, burnt cheeks, and rapidly blistering hands.

“Waaahhhhh!!!!!”

Ignoring the antics of the oftime frustrating duo, Kasumi, upon seeing the state of her younger sister dashed to the telephone – Tofu’s number already dancing in her memory.

*********

The movements of two very different types of weapons served to make for a curious battle scene. The bludgeoning, powerful strokes of the mace answered by the lightning quick and usually feather-light responses from the razor swords.

The okonomiyaki chef remained where she had been deposited after her own encounter, watching the new battle evolve into grander scales that her own duel had never even begun to approach. Partial feelings of envy churned within – envy at the boy she had known so long ago who once more, as then, displayed his obvious combative superiority – and envy at the voluptuous, lavender haired girl who though matching her in age seemed equally unsurpassable.

Watching as the pigtailed trainee managed to trisect one of the incoming bonbori, Ukyou visibly humphed – it didn’t look to her like Ranchan was having any of his supposed difficulty with adjusting to his gifts.

Ranma concentrated furiously. His first time unfamiliarity with the newly acquired katanas, combined with the difficulty of their usage was hampering his ability to fight in the usual Ninjitsu style.

Not to mention the fact that Shampoo fought with a near alarming tenacity, and that she seemed to have a limitless supply of bonbori – pulling them out from God knows where. Hidden Weapons was one thing – this on the other hand reeked of a certain longhaired, blind Amazon boy...

The ninja trainee was abruptly forced to abandon that thought as he urgently dodged Shampoo’s very unorthodox underarm swing. Indeed it was times like these that he was thankful for having been born with long legs.

“Nasty, Shampoo.” Ranma teased conversationally. “What, have you been taking lessons from Mousse?”

“Is why womans make better warrior – they no put all precious eggs in one basket.” Despite the intensity of their duelling, she managed a playful leer – her gaze painting over a very definite area.

The boy had no time for a rejoinder as her taunting was shortly accompanied by a finger stab to the ground near his feet. “Bakusai...”

That was enough to send him into a rapid leap.

“...Tenketsu!”

Impressive as the explosion was – it bore little use in affecting the airborne ninja trainee. The second however, aimed at his probable landing site...

“Bakusai Tenketsu!!”

“Okay.” Ranma paused to wipe the heavy grime and rock fragments marring his face. “That’s it.”

Warned by his words, Shampoo braced herself for the decisive attack – and was all the more surprised when the pigtailed fighter instead sheathed both katanas within his voluminous sleeves. Seeing him then almost unconsciously lower his stance till both hands reached the dirt, she tensed – that stance in its unique unfamiliarity made it all the more familiar when associated with ‘this’ combatant.

And from the sidelines, Ukyou felt herself tensing in concert – for surely this would be the peak of the battle. Even as she avidly watched, her eyes determined to track every point of movement, the chef very nearly missed the moment. Hunkering further, the pigtailed fighter leaned back as far as his balance would allow, and in that instant shot forward like a bullet.

Shampoo saw him coming – so fast it seemed like the boy in red was almost flying. Doing justice to her Amazon Wu Shu heritage, she nonetheless executed a neat sidestep – recoiling along her line of movement in a complex manoeuvre that would have seen the attacking ninja tumble and crash under the force of his own inertia.

Or at least it should have – and yet his arm still managed to lock against her own. Using his momentum, Ranma swung behind the struggling girl, his shifting almost dance-like in its liquid flow. Ethereally aware of her peril, the purple haired Amazon blindly launched a sharp kick to the rear, even as she sensed him leaning over her shoulder. Whispering directly into her ear, in a voice so beautifully deadly it was almost a purr, he uttered a single word.

“Amaguriken.”

Ukyou reflexively screwed her eyes shut, cringing at the near continuous sound of flesh being systematically pounded at disturbingly close range.

Followed by a long moment of pure silence.

Grimacing from her newly acquired position face down in the dirt, Shampoo tentatively lifted herself, her pretty face set in a distinctive pout. “Airen is so mean to Shampoo.” In truth, as she performed a more detailed self-examination, the damage was minimal – thank the Gods for her Breaking Point training – though the shock of such a flurry of punches was certainly disconcerting enough.

Half-unsure of her semi-playful tone, Ranma smiled apologetically, his hand unconsciously reaching to scratch behind his head. “Sorry about that, I tried not to put too much into it.”

Lightly picking herself off the ground the Amazon frowned for an instant in disapproval, before shrugging it off. Even with her extremely limited shiatsu knowledge, she had detected at least three different pressure points which had been disturbed in some way. Riding on that thought, her legs abruptly gave way, sending the buxom girl to the hard dirt once more.

Shampoo sighed resignedly. Make that four.

**********

As was to be expected, Akane awoke to find herself in the semi-comfortable cot that served as the recovery station in Doctor Tofu’s practice. Staring aimlessly up at the spotlessly cleaned white panelled ceiling, she sighed tiredly. Judging from the set of the Sun, she had been lying here for several hours, and yet still felt dreadfully exhausted.

Too much, too soon.

Shifting to her side proved to be a rather painful mistake. Flinching unconsciously, she took a moment for a brief self-examination. Both hands were bandaged with a light gauze – her nose detecting the rather pungent aroma of burn salve from underneath. Lifting her arms revealed a similar cloth binding which made several tight circuits around her waist.

The condition of the youngest Tendo’s hair faired a little better, though both her bangs and the long tails she had so lovingly grown had been singed away at the tips – some strands even fusing together into ugly clumps. Akane grimaced distastefully as she lightly ran her fingers through the thick, tangled mane. Kasumi would have to be called on again for an impromptu haircut.

And just when it was finally longer than oneechan’s as well.

“Oh, you’re awake now.” Tofu announced, obviously pleased as he quietly appeared at the doorway. “And how are we feeling, Akane?”

“Better, Doctor Tofu,” she murmured softly, too wearied to jump at his usual unobtrusive entrance. “Just tired I suppose.” She blushed a little as the young man leaned forward to examine her face closely.

“Hmm.” He peered clinically into her eyes, either unaware or ignoring of her embarrassed discomfort. “You should be fine I’d say – just take it easy.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” She made as if to move off the bed, before he placed a concerned hand on her shoulder. Akane only reddened further and tried to look away.

“Akane, your father told me about what happened.” He paused to consider his words carefully. “I know how important your training is to you, but be careful – playing with chi at this level is extremely dangerous to those around you, but especially yourself.”

“Don’t worry, Doctor Tofu.” She answered brightly. “I’m a big girl – I can take care of myself.”

“Where did you learn the technique? From what I’ve been told, neither Tendo-san nor Saotome-san ever showed you anything like that.”

Mildly annoyed that he’d seemed to casually pass off her reassurances, the youngest Tendo nonetheless answered truthfully. “It was from a technique Ryouga found in a scroll – it was called the ‘Shi Shi Hokodan’.”

“Ah.” The chiropractor’s brow furrowed in recollection. “I think I may have vaguely heard of it before. A...a miner’s technique I believe.”

She shrugged indifferently. “It teaches the user to harness the power of sadness and depression into an attack – only I couldn’t...well get that unhappy enough to use that emotion.”

“So...let me guess.” Tofu smiled knowingly. “Anger and rage, right?”

She blinked, startled. “H-how...?”

“Akane, I’m not going to badger you on this, but be careful with these practices – anger is amongst the most powerful of emotions to evoke – and perhaps the most difficult to augment and control.”

She looked up, held by the unusual seriousness in the Doctor’s demeanour. Gone was the playfully cheerful bantering that he usually carried in his words. Instead, gravely concerned eyes looked into her own, perhaps searching for her understanding and recognition of his gravity.

“Promise me you’ll be very careful about using a technique like that.”

A brief contest of wills ensued at that, before she quickly backed down, eyes lowering in submission. “Okay Doctor Tofu, I promise – but only because it’s you.”

Nodding in satisfaction, Tofu answered brightly, “That’s all I ask, Akane.” Inwardly though he was sighing in abject relief – all too well did he know how so very important martial arts was to the teenage girl. Getting her to tone down such advanced training was by no means a small feat.

“Oh my, Doctor Tofu, is Akane going to be alright?” Kasumi’s concerned voice piped in, as she peered from behind the door.

And it was only Akane’s remarkable speed that preserved her health as she triple flipped up the wall and across the ceiling, out of harm’s way.

“W-why h-h-h-ello K-Kasumi!” For somebody whose glasses were completely impaired by the fog of his own sweat, the good doctor showed remarkable dexterity in manipulating the tangled bed sheets into kanji that vaguely resembled the word ‘Mist’. “Fancy meeting you here of all places.”

The youngest Tendo could only shudder, as she imagined herself in place of the mangled cloth. The eldest however, only laughed pleasantly. “Oh Doctor Tofu, stop being so silly, you work here of course.”

Wilting a little at the ridiculous banter that interchanged between the two, the Anything Goes heir quietly snuck out, unnoticed by either. Heading back towards the Tendo Dojo, she let the ambient sounds of the city drown out the joyfully mad laughter that continued to assault her ears from the clinic.

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

“So then, sonny boy, how are we feeling tonight?” It was a vague question, and as such deserved a vague answer.

“Well enough, Elder Cologne.” Ranma fixed the shrunken old crone an unreadable look, before returning to his close examination of one of Kagora’s sai.

Unfazed, the matriarch only returned a toothy grin – every day the boy was turning more and more towards the personality of his Master. Even now she could guess what he was thinking at, carefully assessing all of Kagora’s most favoured weapons of choice in combat.

“So you’ve already chosen your opponent in the upcoming trials, eh?”

“Perhaps.”

Inwardly cackling at his subversive cockiness, Cologne refrained from pursuing the matter – the boy already well knew his place in the grander scheme of things.

Despite his concentration however, the pigtailed boy found his attention increasingly drawn not to the withered matriarch perched in her customary chair, but towards the kitchen – where an invitingly wide variety of aromas seemed to tease at his sensitive nose. Taking a deep breath, Ranma sighed contentedly – Ucchan’s special full combination okonomiyaki, Shampoo’s stir fried ramen – it didn’t get much better than this.

And as was to be expected, dinner was a relatively calm, enjoyable affair – aside from a certain Amazon girl’s teasing attempts to hand feed her beloved. Ranma treated the entire business as he had with all such antics – pleasant tolerance.

Looking about at the various subdued faces surrounding the heavy wooden dining table, Ukyou could not help but feel that the air was a little too quiet – what with the beginning of the Amazon championships the next day, and Ranma’s trials of ascension following that. Almost as if none at the table were willing to broach the tension in fear of disturbing the unspoken trepidation.

But of course, there was at least one who had no such reservations.

“So then, what have we all planned for tonight?”

A little startled by the sudden break in silence, it took Ranma a few seconds to realise that the question was mostly directed at himself. "Actually, I was intending on...on..."

"Ranchan, what's wrong?" Ukyou looked on in concern as her friend's eyes half closed in a distracted, semi-detached gaze, head half-cocked to the side.

"Heh, it's raining." Surprised, the ponytailed girl watched as his face drifted into the rarest of expressions – a genuine smile.

Cologne could neither hear nor detect the wet weather that her student had claimed at, but then Ranma's senses had always exceeded hers. Such suspicions were confirmed when the sound of falling water elevated to a dull roar.

Save for a precious few, Ranma's senses exceeded everybody's.

"Interesting, as high up as we are in the mountains, such heavy rains are quite unusual."

Suddenly, the ninja trainee snapped back to the present. "Elder Cologne, may I be excused for now?"

"Of course." She inclined her head in acceptance.

"Thank you very much for dinner." Ranma bowed formally to the ever-wizened matriarch at the head of the table - the same statement and the same bow that he had done for every dinner - and with that promptly wafted out of the room.

"I'll..." Ukyou began uncertainly, "...I'll go and check on him." Concern etching itself onto her features, Ukyou worriedly moved to follow.

And the Matriarch of the Joketsuzoku continued to stare curiously after the figure of the departing girl. And after a moment, "Now that puts a few difficulties in your path, my young Xian Pu."

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

At first, the Kuonji girl thought she had lost her friend - before realising that he had in fact left the house.

In this kind of weather.

Pausing only to pick up a bamboo umbrella, Ukyou stepped out into the pouring rain, errant drops of almost refreshingly icy cold water finding their way under the wide cloth span of her shelter. It didn't take long however to find the pigtailed boy, standing in the middle of the yard with arms held wide, and his face upturned to catch the full force of the downpour.

It was more than a little shocking to see Ranma of all people stand up and start spinning about like a child having fun in the wet. "R-ranchan, what the hell are you doing?"

At her loud call, the boy abruptly blinked, as if waking up to the real world, and returned a sheepishly embarrassed gaze. "Ah heh heh, Ucchan, I didn't notice you there."

Then she remembered, at a time that almost seemed a lifespan away, of a little pigtailed boy and his best friend both playing and frolicking in the rain and mud - the both being sternly admonished by their respective fathers soon after - though for markedly different reasons. Ukyou sighed a little wistfully at the memory. No matter that she had lived with this new Ranma for more than ten months, the okonomiyaki chef could not help but still see this sword fighter, ninja and martial artist all rolled into one as the 'new' Ranma. And those instants, when she caught a glimpse - a subtle hint of the old Ranma, well, these were the moments she loved the most.

But still..."You can be so weird sometimes, Ranchan."

That seem to bring him out of his awkwardness. Eyes burning with a cheeky mischievousness that she had not seen since the last time he'd pilfered a free okonomiyaki from her family yattai, the pigtailed fighter zipped to her side, and promptly snitched her umbrella.

"Ack!! Give that back - I'm getting soaked!" Frantically, she chased after the dancing ninja...

"I just love the rain, don't you?" He mentioned conversationally.

"Not when it's on me, you jackass!" Ukyou responded hotly between grabs. But her smile was angrily playful in the vain realisation that she would never get her umbrella back until her assailant felt like returning it. And besides, given that she was now wet through to the skin there wasn't much point getting it back anyway.

This was the Ranma she knew and remembered.

Abruptly their mock chase ended when her target, in one of those momentum defying manoeuvres, reversed his path of travel and nimbly picked up his friend, and lifted her bodily into the air. Ukyou saw the world from a remarkably rapid perspective as she was spun around like a little girl - his quiet strength easily encapsulating her weak struggles.

He didn't stop, even when her rain drenched chestnut dark hair tangled in his face. But for his companion...

She was suddenly visited by the feeling of his closeness - his tight hold around her waist. Comfortably gentle - yet uncomfortable, for reasons she couldn't comprehend...nice, confusing?

"Bleah." The unexpected comment broke her reverie. "Your hair doesn't taste very nice, Ucchan."

"I've never had anyone taste it before." Her voice was quiet, nervously huskier than usual. Somehow seeming to feel some of her discomfort, Ranma slowly spun to a halt, whilst gradually lowering her to earth once more. In a way that even the still heavy rain could not dispel, the pigtailed boy became almost viscerally aware of his best friend's closeness - the moisture pressing their clothes into an awkwardly thin barrier.

Once free from her burden, the ninja trainee promptly relieved his hold of her slender waist, snapping hands away as if burned.

Both stood mutely, hair matted down messily over their faces, neither able to break the uncomfortable quiet. Though eventually, Ranma murmured uncomfortably, "Umm, I think I'll be heading back now, Ucchan." She gave no indication of hearing – continuing to stare silently as the pigtailed boy quietly stepped away, and in an almost relief-like burst of energy, dashed away at full speed to disappear behind the house.

After a few tentative minutes, Ukyou moved to follow – her demeanour still slightly dazed by the bewildering encounter that had just occurred. Heading back towards the rear entrance of the family abode, her movement was shortly halted by the sight of a familiar purple haired, buxom Amazon warrior.

Leaning casually against the doorframe - arms crossed in front of her in a decidedly challenging way.

The lazy attitude of Shampoo's pose was enough to put Ukyou's senses on alert - the Amazon was almost never lazy - bubbly, hyperactively happy, ultra mad maybe - but never languidly idle. "Anything I can do for you, bonbori girl?" She tried cheerfully, though honestly curious about what the problem was.

The purple-haired girl failed to meet the amicably light-hearted attitude. "Spatula girl and Shampoo may be friends - but does not mean that Shampoo stand back and give way."

Unable to quite figure that out, Ukyou carefully said as much, "I don't quite get you there, sugar."

Turning around in a huff, the Amazon muttered over her shoulder. "Shampoo not stupid - she see funny funny way you look when Airen give you rainy wet hugs."

"I...I..." Ukyou stammered incoherently, unable to believe the absurdity of such a presumption - before realising that her purple-haired friend was no longer present to hear her defence. "Hey wait!" She briskly jogged to catch up.

The pair met once more on the upper floor, just as Shampoo was entering her room. "Hey honey, you've got it all wrong," the chef protested, as if their conversation had never ended. "Ranchan always had a thing for the rain, back when we were little - and we used to pick each other up and toss the other into mud and stuff."

"Shampoo see no mud fight - she see too too innocent boy giving too too tender hugs to devious spatula girl."

"Jeez sugar, talk about hyper-sensitive." Ukyou grumbled. "For the last time, bonbori girl, Ranchan's not like that - com'on, especially after the way all your fellow friends carry on, I doubt he's even interested in that sort of thing with any girl."

The purple-haired girl only growled in annoyance. The other infuriatingly eligible Amazon girls were hardly 'fellows' or 'friends'. And the chef’s comment was only a reminder of her own lack of progress with the stupid Japanese male.

Seeing Shampoo’s fierce glare, and misinterpreting it, Ukyou added hotly, “Look, I’m tired, I’m very wet and dripping cold on this nice wooden floor – and right now I want nothing more than a nice warm bath while Kwai Lien-san still has some hot water left.” With that she stomped off, still managing to look huffed despite her sodden appearance.

Shampoo stood for a moment longer before she too turned to head back to her bedroom – her most important fight was in the morrow, and thus she had little energy to spare on such matters – at least for tonight.

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

Turning over underneath the blankets, Ranma dwelt upon the easily audible argument that had transpired just outside his door. For a brief moment, he considered the possibilities.

A moment later...“Nah”.

Rolling over once more, he settled into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

 

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

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

 

 Day 2.

The second day, and a very important day to a select few in the world.

And one of those few was to be found outside her family’s grounds hard at – surprise, surprise – training. Lano stared, openly impressed at the vision of the beautifully exotic lavender haired girl as she danced amongst the metre high training posts. What with the extra skills she had received from the foreign teachers, and her own natural desire to show the limits of her talents before a certain pigtailed ninja – well, the Amazon heir was certainly good enough to make Lano fight with the utmost caution on their occasional spars.

Of course, her fighting prowess wasn’t exactly what he was currently interested in at the moment, but it was still a passing thought.

“She’s really good, you know.”

The Korean turned at the sound of his long time companion, who as usual had managed to unintentionally sneak up to within arm’s reach. Studying Ranma’s unreadable expression, it was hard to tell just what the sentiment was behind that simple statement.

“Coming from the great Saotome Ranma, that’s no small praise.”

Snorting in abject derision, the said boy replied, “Me being better doesn’t make her any worse.”

“But is she good enough to take the Championships in her maiden year?”

“We won’t have long to find out, Lano.”

The weapons fighter was about to offer a more detailed analysis, before realising that he was once again in solitude. Looking down the empty corridor, he sighed in mild exasperation – maybe it was the upcoming trials, but the pigtailed ninja seemed to be getting stranger by the day.

**********

It was a particularly slow and deliberate ritual this morning as Kuno Tatewaki – heir to the Kuno name, rising star of Kendo clubs around the world, Shooting Star of Furinkan High, and master of the sword unto the great Saotome Nodoka – dressed for this, his first battle in many months.

Examining his proud and handsome countenance before the ornate floor to ceiling dressing mirror, the teenage swordsman dwelt upon the possibility of adopting a somewhat more convenient title – it was just so difficult to convey the correct amount of well-deserved glory into a more practical name.

Looking up from his neatly combed, albeit slightly wild hair, down his neatly pressed hakama to his ritually bare feet, Kuno checked for discrepancies.

Of course, there were none.

In a slight change of style, and an indication of his new skills, there was a simple, black silken sash wrapped twice around his waist, into which the upperclassman thrust a sheath for his ever-present bokken, with a wooden wakazashi on his right hip to complement.

“At last, my dearest, sweetest Tendo Akane – the fire that burns to an exquisite luminescence, such that the goddess Amaterasu herself weeps in shame – today is the day that I may claim you to be at my side.” Standing tall, the swordsman withdrew his weapons in a flash of impressive speed. “Armed as thus, I pray you see the great Shooting Star as verily worthy to worship you as only a lover could in these, mine arms of adoration.”

And towards the corner, hidden in the shadows that were his domain and comfort, the family ninja, Sasuke sighed in honest relief. Though he was ever-loyal and ever-willing, it was about time that the Master Kuno finally headed back towards school – it gave the devoted retainer some much needed rest during the daylight hours.

“I pray that my Goddess sees fit to grant audience with her most faithful worshipper, this bright February morn.” Fuelled by both supreme love and confidence, Kuno Tatewaki strode purposefully towards the exit, and his destiny.

**********

The Amazon championship trials were a brutally simplistic affair. On par with the Joketsuzoku mentality there were only two recognised positions; the one champion, and a very large group of losers. No seconds, no thirds - you either were...

...or you were not.

Battles were played out, as they had been for three thousand and more years, over a massive raw-cut wooden log suspended horizontally by an equally stout pine frame - the rope suspension ensuring that the arena would be as much a test of the fighter's balance as of her combat prowess.

Oh yes, Ranma considered dryly, that was another thought. Women only, of course - but in Joketsuzoku such facts went without saying.

Bedecked in her formal combat gear – pure white trousers and a short, equally fair overrobe, Shampoo brushed off a few errant specks of dirt, noting quizzically that her appearance was the exact opposite to that of her darkly clad beloved. Further speculation on the subject was halted though, at the sound of a commanding voice.

“Contenders are ready?” the chosen adjudicator announced in an authoritative voice. At the careful nod of each girl, as they stood, precariously balanced on the testing log, the village maiden swung her open hand down in a decisive chop. “Begin!”

Rather than following general Amazon principles, and leaping into an aggressive attack, Shampoo instead opted to wait out, and let her opponent take the lead. This was her first duel – the first of many, and the knowledge that many of her future rivals were standing amongst the audience, watching her every move, prompted the purple haired fighter to choose which techniques that were to be revealed with utmost caution.

The woman facing her had no such reservations – already having fought and won three battles prior to this. Armed with a hefty bo-sai, she dashed quickly to cover the distance separating them, and stabbed assertively with the three-pronged steel head.

A jab that was caught and neatly deflected on the wide, curving face of a machete – the girl having decided to leave the bonbori for future duels. Without the room to circumvent her opponent on the narrow log, Shampoo was forced to duck under the pole-arm and slash underneath the reach of the bo-sai’s tip.

Standing tensely in the crowds, Kuranami murmured uncomfortably to her fellow Shinkasa Guard. “We’ve seen seven of these duels, and I still cannot get accustomed to how callously these martial artist warriors treat the usage of real weapons.” Her statement was shortly followed by a cringing wince, as Shampoo’s rival took a vicious swipe to the side of her face.

“Makes all our wooden weapon training seem trivial in comparison, ne?” Daikoto shrugged nonchalantly. He didn’t bother mentioning that one of the main reasons that they did so, was that the taught Shinkasa style focused too much on lethal blows to make steel weapon training feasible.

“Still...” Her reply was cut short, as the lavender haired teenager deftly sent her opponent tumbling. Both clapped appreciatively, a honest congratulations for Elder Cologne’s protégé.

Shampoo looked towards the gathered audience, and respectfully gave a bow in acknowledgment of their support – although she was aware that most of it was hardly genuine. It took only a short moment to locate a certain group of teenage fighters, her beloved standing amongst them. Cheerfully, she waved at them, though her eyes were only for a particular pigtailed boy.

“She doesn’t look particularly tired, does she?” Lano mentioned conversationally.

“She shouldn’t be.” Ranma responded neutrally. He smiled thinly at the girl’s playful wink in his direction, though mostly discomforted by the ‘not-so-discreet’ glares that were shot both ways amongst a few of the other unwed members of the rivalling families.

A little disappointed by her beloved’s subdued response, Shampoo nonetheless steeled herself for the next challenge – four battles from now.

**********

“Um, Akane-san, err...” Ryouga wasn’t quite sure how to put this, but as the girl’s grip tightened even further, he gave up tact in favour of quick relief. “Akane-san, you’re holding me really tight.”

“Boys...damn boys...hate boys.” The vehement words were spat with all the distaste of a week rotten oyster.

And thus, unfortunately, the youngest Tendo was in no condition to heed her friend’s hint – though fortunately, she released her grip all the same (two hands to fight were always better than one).

“Akane, date me!!!!!!”

“No, me firs...ERKK!!”

And hence began the morning mayhem.

Standing at her usual window seat post, Nabiki frowned resolutely at the readings – betting to timespans of the morning fights had deteriorated rapidly, since no one was willing to place money on time issues that were measured in seconds.

Added to the fact, there was a certain missing element to the fights these days – that certain something which made the viewing and wagering all the more enjoyable – that...that...

“Heretoforthwith let it be known that the great Shooting Star of Furinkan High School, master of the sword, Kuno Tatewaki doth announce his timely return. I pray that mine loyal admirers do cherish my presence just as they have pined my long sojourn.”

Bingo.

*********

Like a raging tigress whose tail had just been trodden on, Akane slowly raised her smouldering gaze to meet the owner of that proudly polished and refined voice.

Kuno.

Kuno Tatewaki – Shooting whatever of Furinkan High, but more importantly, the instigator behind all that had plagued her for these months. With a few careless words, and being the son of the Principal to back his doctrine, this Kuno had utterly destroyed the peace of her life.

Now, it was well known that most humans possessed what has been loosely termed as a ‘danger sense’ – that indescribable prickly feeling that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise, and your adrenaline starting the full circuit. Reacting on this, the vast body of students who had previously taken up viewing positions to watch the ensuing fight, suddenly, as if on unspoken agreement opted to find more safe observation posts behind the security of Furinkan High’s stout walls.

It was a right shame that a certain black-haired youth, by some freak of heritage and birth, possessed no such sense.

**********

It had taken Ryouga a minute or so to realise that his hand was no longer in contact with that of sweet Akane’s. Though now there was no one to hear him, the eternally Lost Boy sighed wearily, as if in that simple exhalation of breath he could encompass all of the sorrows that had lately seemed so keen on plaguing his sorrowful life. Finding little satisfaction in it, he despondently tried again.

Sigh*.

It had all been so wonderful, so perfect all those months back. Every morning, the little ritual that only he and dearest Akane shared would occur – she would arrive faithfully to pick him up, and take him to school. There, sticking close by her side, he was ensured of staying on track and on time – his uncountable misdirections all being patiently endured and accounted for by the said youngest Tendo.

And to this day, Ryouga could never see just why a pitiful sod like himself would have ever deserved such kindness. He was not disillusioned about his failings, the lost boy very well knew what an irritating burden it must have been for her to be constantly monitoring his orientations.

And yet, Akane had done so, for more than a year, and with an ever cheery smile in place of the frustrated grimacing he was so used to from everyone else.

Yes, finally a cure to his waywardness, an unbelievably challenging martial artist to hone his skills with, a chance to go to a proper high school for once, a beautiful goddess who truly understood and accepted him...yes Hibiki Ryouga had had it all.

That is, until the unending cheerful happiness that had pervaded Akane’s every action had taken a sudden and stunningly abrupt nosedive. He was certainly no genius, but it wasn’t that difficult to decipher the origins of that change, given that it had occurred a week following the beginning of the morning fights. It pained him, more than Akane would ever know, to see her subjected to such irritations, and yet her martial artist’s pride would not allow his assistance.

It wasn’t as if the Anything Goes heiress really needed help in the combat field – especially when faced with untrained boys in sports gear, but it was the attitude which bothered him the most – that suddenly the cutest, most popular girl in Furinkan was a trophy prize to be fought and won.

The idea of his love being possessed by another...

Passer-by’s around shifted uncomfortably, giving the peculiar teenager boy in yellow and brown a significant wide berth – an understandable action considering he was glowing a very mild sickly green, or perhaps it was the sign post that was being pretzelised in the muscular youth’s bare hands.

Suddenly realising that he was the centre of somewhat guarded attention, the Lost Boy offered a weak, sheepish grin, before noticing something of much greater import.

He was lost.

Hibiki Ryouga was lost.

“KAMI-SAMA...WHERE AM I??!!”

********

“Wilt thou cross swords with me, fairest maiden?” It didn’t matter that Tendo Akane never fought with a weapon, sword or otherwise - any re-wording of the traditional issue of challenge would undoubtedly have lessened its impact.

Letting her casually raised fists answer for her, the youngest Tendo settled into a familiar, easy stance. Perfect timing – just when she needed a real good fight to let off a whole heap of over pressurised steam, and here was the ideal punching bag.

In concert with his opponent’s confidence, Kuno slowly brought his bokken to bear, his eyes never leaving his love. Just as he had been taught, the swordsman relaxed his grip, one hand lying loosely by his side. Then, taking a single step to the side...

*********

This was what Akane loved the most about her family’s style – the sheer variety and flexibility – no rules, no constraints – if it was martial arts then it could be used in Anything Goes. Effortlessly, she floated around the wide arc of her attacker’s bokken, turning in mid-air to land a snap drop kick to the side of his head.

And was shocked to discover her foot connecting not with flesh, but the cutting edge of a wooden short sword.

**********

This was what Kuno loved the most about kendo – the extreme complexity derived from the simplest of principles. The legs were for positioning – to be strong when you made a decisive strike, and to flow like water when you needed to manoeuvre. Attack and defence were concentrated solely to the arms, but the hands which wielded the sword had to be dexterous unto the extreme for the perfect techniques to be executed.

Allowing himself a proud smile, the swordsman revelled in this, his first proper contact in combat with the Tendo Goddess in all the years that they had courted. Truly, Saotome-dono sensei had broadened his skills to their paramount, adding that critical dimension that had been sorely lacking in his previously two dimensional fighting world.

Capitalising on that last thought, the heir to the Kuno name earnestly assumed the role of aggressor.

“The bolt of the Blue Thunder doth striketh from above!”

And just for the sake of variety, he struck from below – Saotome sensei had always instigated the importance of unpredictability.

**********

Tendo Akane, heir to the Mutsabeto Kakuto Ryu, found herself in a particular position, for the first time in all the years that she had blasted this annoying pest...on the defensive. In a fashion she would never have expected the kendo fighter of all people to engage in, Akane fought a retreating battle that was as much in the air as on the ground.

That, more than the shock of actually being hit for once by the upperclassman, was what angered her the most – that her, an Anything Goes practitioner would be challenged in the field of airborne combat.

No! She was the expert here – she was the best. Discarding the flaring pain of the heavy bruise to her foot, the youngest Tendo savagely slammed her fist through the upperclassman’s defence, brushing aside the heavy bokken, and taking the full force of his wakazashi on her forearm.

The reward for the additional trio of bruises was a connected headbutt that slammed his chin up, snapping the skull back even as the rest of the swordsman’s body followed in a graceless arc towards the hard earth.

“Ready for more, Kuno sempai?” the fierce tigress snarled, wiping away both the sweat, and any reservations she might have had at holding back this time.

Allowing for the minimal ten seconds required to reset his jaw, Kuno Tatewaki answered resolutely. “My unending passions are in constant state of preparation to serve mine goddess.”

Wasting no time in trying to decipher his declaration, Akane took a cautious step forwards, her senses alive with the full rush of battle, and the knowledge that this was a true challenge requiring a true display of her full skill. Flowing into the offensive, the Anything Goes fighter offered a complex combination of attacks – never fully finishing a technique before beginning on another one.

And to his credit, Kuno held up wonderfully – blocking or dodging high and low kicks, crescent sweeps, reverse palm strikes...at least for the first twenty seconds or so.

After that...well...

**********

Kuno marvelled at this hidden prowess, kept in secret until the present, where it was now on full display in tribute to his newfound skills.

He was of course referring to sweet Tendo Akane’s Megami-like speed and power – that, as closely as he knew and cherished her, the swordsman would never have even conceived that she...or anyone else, would possess such combative talents.

And, at last, it was now being employed – a divine acknowledgment that his love had seen fit to reveal her true powers to the great Shooting Star.

Still...it was a right shame that her divine acknowledgement hurt so much.

“Why...” *CRACK* “...can’t you...” *crunch* “...just leave Me ALONE!!” She finished the question with a devastating knee to the stomach, catching his face as his body folded with a full-fisted uppercut, that sent the kendoist flying.

To slam head first into Furinkan’s much abused brick wall.

“Verily do I fight on,” Kuno mumbled confidently, visibly annoyed that his body was unable to follow the sentiment.

Her breathing only mildly disturbed, Akane shot a murderously hateful glare at the now unconscious upperclassman, half disappointed that he had fallen so quickly, and before she could’ve delivered out his full punishment.

“Umm...Akane?” Sayuri called out hopefully, as she passed by. Looking towards her longtime friend, the fire in both the Tendo heir’s eyes and mind quickly died – much to the relief of most party present.

“Did you have to beat him up that much, Akane-chan?” added another voice from the side. Offering a sheepish smile towards her other companion, the martial artist’s voice was nonetheless steeled. “He’s the reason why I have had to fight every day.”

“Yeah, I understand that...but his first day back, and already...” Yuka trailed off, the destructive path of the recent conflict still visible even as they entered the building.

“Yuka...” Akane looked at her shorter friend meaningfully. “Every day, for nearly seven school months.” Icily, she murmured, “I think I deserve some credit for even letting him live.”

“I guess so.”

*********

Breathlessly, Shampoo spared a moment to wipe her dampened forehead clear of the sweat that threatened to trickle into her eyes. The last of the ‘cannon fodder’ entrants had long since been cleared away – those who clearly had little chance of making the cut – at least while Elder Cologne’s heir was still in the running.

And now, very much more rapidly that she would have expected, her final challenge was to begin. As wearied as she was, the buxom girl spared a moment for a cheery wave towards her favourite supporter, still pointedly glancing away from the occasional evil stares that the gesture garnered from her rivals.

Eyeing the near visible hostilities that seemed to flit back and forth across the field, the pigtailed boy sighed plaintively. Personally, he couldn’t see the point of it all – it had been well established that Kagora’s heir was definitely and most certainly not on the lookout for a potential mate – and yet they still came.

It was that optimistic ever-eager puppy attitude that annoyed him the most – that none seemed willing to take a hint and, putting it bluntly, boot off. Shampoo at least had seemed to accept his requests for relational solitude – her playfulness appeared to be more of a tease than any true intent.

Still...

Still, she was very distracting, in a way that both puzzled and pleased him – though more of the former than the latter, and at his stage in the Art he had no room to be distracted.

Looking away from the pigtailed ninja trainee, and towards the written roster, Shampoo’s eyes narrowed distastefully – her final challenger was to be one Ba Fu Mei, a daughter of a rival and decidedly hostile family to her own.

“Who’s next for Shampoo, Ranchan?” Ukyou enquired curiously.

Squinting at the still somewhat unfamiliar Chinese characters, Ranma took a minute or so to sort through the writing. “Per...Perfume, I think.”

“Shampoo versus Perfume, eh? Heh, figures.” Lano’s eyes glinted speculatively as he took in the view of the two equally attractive young girls as they readied themselves for battle – Perfume’s dark green, shoulder length hair, and aquiline slenderness a pleasing contrast to Shampoo’s voluptuousness.

But, for the pigtailed fighter, the issue at hand was the recognition that this was the same warrior that had met them on their very first night of arrival, all those months back – one that held no particular liking for any who were associated with Cologne’s family.

And now she was challenging the heir to that very family.

“Contenders are ready?” Well used to that question, the violet haired girl gave her curt nod, the gesture echoed across by her opponent.

Perfume’s chosen tool was a long, slender tai chi combat blade – a veteran of several championship matches, as well as real combat in border skirmishes, she was certainly a warrior to be respected – and one that the purple-haired girl was certainly exceptionally cautious about.

It helped that she was also in fact last year’s champion, and would thus be defending her title in this duel.

“Begin!” The judicator’s hand dropped, signalling the beginning to their battle, and the universally held breath, as the crowd awaited the first move.

At first there was nothing, as each competitor silently appraised the other. Shampoo watched carefully, marking the other girl’s every movement, down to the slight rise and fall of her form at every breath. Then all at once, she was on the retreat, as the warrior exploded into attack – thrusting with savage precision for the stomach.

A quick hop back and then a parsing swing with her right bonbori, and the Amazon managed to hold her ground before running out of room – though the move sorely tested her balance upon the narrow log. Using the round head of her weapon like a fist, she punched forwards, systematically trying to regain lost territory.

“She’s good.” Lano murmured, just as he had done so several times already. “I seem to sense a bit of your style in her development.”

Ranma only returned a non-committal grunt. “There’s no style like Shampoo’s other than Shampoo’s.”

“I’ll say.” Lano answered admiringly – though his good-natured leer at the bosomy girl’s, err...gyrations, was a clear suggestion at where that last comment was aimed at.

Spinning acrobatically, Shampoo flew across the length of the tournament log – high enough to clear both the green haired fighter, and her whistling sword. Though the way it rang eerily close to her feet was disconcerting enough for her to wish for a for a few extra feet of clearance. And then, without warning, Perfume had reached into a hidden pocket in the cuff of her suit, and hurled a devastating spray of tiny flechette-like needles.

Without the room on the log to dodge, the lavender haired warrior could only vainly deflect as many as she could with her bonbori, though in the end there were some half-dozen of the darts in various places about her form.

Poisons and chemicals were strictly forbidden in ritual combat, but she knew by experience, that the minute needles were tipped with complex barbs, and served to irritate sensitive nerves and hamper fighting prowess.

Smiling determinedly, Perfume lunged with her straight edged sword again and again, forcing her opponent to give ground once more. With keen battle eyes, she had already taken note of one of her darts lodging itself in the dratted girl’s ankle, tweaking Shampoo’s muscles at every step she took.

There was absolutely no way she was going to lose to Khu Lon’s upstart heir, no way that such satisfaction would be given to her, and her outsider friends. Carrying through on that thought, the slender warrior cut determinedly through her rival’s defence, sheer combat experience guiding her blade to draw on the weaknesses of Shampoo’s bonbori.

And from without, Cologne silently shook her head – for all of her great-granddaughter’s skills and training attained by regular practice with the Shinkasa visitors, the girl still suffered from an impetuous nature, and a headstrong stubbornness that was undoing her chances at victory in this duel. Ah well, it was only the girl’s first championship – no harm done I expect. Perfume had been last year’s champion, and also had many more year’s familiarity with the nuances of battle. Looking to the other spectators, she could see her hidden sentiments more openly reflected in their expressions.

Save for one...one Saotome Ranma. Why on Earth was he smiling like that?

Without looking, Shampoo could ‘sense’ the amount of space she had left before the end of the tournament log. Feeling the expectations of the crowd like an oppressive weight, and not liking their attitude one bit, she ruthlessly forced all concentration to the task at hand.

Ranma had thoroughly taught her this many times – and it would always be in her memory as her very first lesson from the pigtailed boy – the absolute key of timing...timing...here!

Perfume could see that her enemy was out of room, and her last step backwards would take her off the log, and into the realm of defeat. Turning about, she swung for a massive, double-handed slash that Shampoo, on her precarious perch, had no hope of dodging or blocking.

And watched as the violet haired girl did take that step – right off the log.

“Wha...”, but the accidentally voiced word would never be completed, as Cologne’s heir flung her own weapon aside and seized the flying sword by its flat. Pulling it towards herself, she yanked both blade and its wielder into an uncomfortably close proximity.

Tottering wildly, with her sword now useless against the buxom girl, who had now abandoned both bonbori and was also virtually hugging her, Perfume struggled to break free.

Letting loose a positively evil smile of her own, Shampoo gave an almost affectionately loving squeeze, further confusing her slender opponent, before delicately running two fingers up the side of Perfume’s neck.

“Hey, that’s...” Lano trailed off, watching with detached fascination as the former village champion crumpled like a loose rag, face down into the dirt.

And thus, a new champion of the Joketsuzoku was born. Breathing in the sweet taste of triumph, Shampoo drank in the applause and approval she could see radiating from Great-grandmother and her allies – almost as sweet as the equally grudging looks of acceptance from her rivals.

But Airen’s smile of congratulations, and his twinkling acknowledgement of her usage of his techniques outdid them all.

***********

Standing unnoticed in the dregs of the spectators, the Hidden Weapons Master, Mousse felt his heart swell with devoted love and pride as he sensed, rather than specifically saw his beloved Shampoo conquer her opponent. A feeling that almost alarmingly degenerated into hatred as he detected the purple haired blur coming into close contact with a suspiciously dark blur.

“Saotome Rannnmmmaaa...,” he growled fiercely. It was totally unfair – Mousse had grown up with her, stood by her, for so much longer than this...this outsider.

And she went running to him when times were good. What was so special about this ninja? So what if he was a *cough* better fighter? He was dirty and underhanded – and totally uncaring and thus undeserving of the affections that the Amazon heir heaped on him.

He could almost hate Shampoo herself for the way her very existence tormented and teased him into insanity. Why did the Kami put such an angel on this Earth, in this village, only to send her love towards his greatest enemy?

Almost hate – but he loved her too much. “Saotome Ranma, you will pay for this.”

***********

Coming down from the heady elation of her victory, and the extensive feasting that had followed after, Shampoo looked about the close group of people that were so important to her. As had been expected of a champion, she had spent the greater part of the celebration night amongst the people – holding the seat of honour as the many offered their congratulations and respect – no matter its authenticity. Then there had been the official entry of her name, Xian Pu, daughter of Mei Fai-Lan, daughter of Kong Dishu Na, daughter of...a tracing all the way back to the matriarch of her family.

She smiled at the quirk in her lineage – that all the women linking her directly to her matriarch were deceased. Yes, she was both the youngest and eldest heir to the name – a future matriarch of the Joketsuzoku.

That is, if the current holder of the title were to ever actually give up the position within her lifetime. The violet-haired girl almost laughed at the idea – that she would be like all the mothers before her – passing on the rank as heir, to her daughter, even as the station outlived her.

Given that her own mother had born and died seeing only the Elder Khu Lon as matriarch, suddenly the prospect did not seem so unfeasible. Shampoo sighed, irritated by the sudden pang of sadness on what was to be her day of triumph, but the memory of her lack of memories was a subversive pain – the loss of a great woman whom she had known only through stories and hearsay. The Amazons were not a race of Arts beyond that of combat – so there weren’t even any pictures or portraits to provide an image of this fabled Amazon warrior.

“You seem a little low-spirited tonight.”

Shampoo looked up at the unexpected statement to see Ranma’s Korean friend standing before her, a somewhat bemused smile adorning his face. She looked upon him with a mildly curious stare – Iyarasora Lano was somebody she never knew quite whether to like or not. Sure, like all the Japanese outsiders, he was a friend, but for some reason the way he seemed to positively covet the company of Amazon girls – well, all girls in general – irritated her in some inconceivable way. Maybe because it was a social opposite to the conventions that she had been raised by, where it was the woman’s duty to choose whom she wanted – and the man’s duty to accept her choice.

Seeing that his observation had only seemed to darken her mood, Lano tried a different tack. “Saw Ranma a moment ago in the training halls – he’s gearing himself up for tomorrow.” The subject of one pigtailed boy always seemed to be a reliable topic to cheer her up.

“And you no prepare for tomorrow?”

He shrugged indifferently. I’m going to sleep early, that’s enough preparation.” Stretching his arms out the weapons fighter added, “We’ve been training this entire time for tomorrow – if I’m not prepared by now I never will be.”

“Then what Ranma doing now that you no do?” The Amazon smirked teasingly.

It was perhaps his imagination, but it appeared that lately the purple haired girl always loved to make disparaging comparisons between her beloved and...well, anything else. “He’s off doing whatever it is that dark, Ninja Masters to be do in order to prime themselves for battle.” Again the unconcerned shrug. “I just treat the entire affair differently is all. The trials are a test you have to do – best face them with an open mind and simple determination. Ranma on the other hand...” He paused, an unusually worried frown marring his handsome features. “...Ranma’s devotion damn near borders on obsession.”

There was a poignant silence as both slowly dwelt on that. And then, the Amazon girl stated almost challengingly, “Shampoo going to see Ranma now.” With that, she stood up and purposefully marched towards the village training rooms.

Looking wistfully towards her voluptuously attractive form, Lano sighed contemplatively. “Go then to your one true love, Shampoo of the Joketsuzoku.”

**********

He never would have believed how impossibly hard it was to clear one’s mind of thoughts – just the act of ‘trying’ to empty the consciousness was a thought unto itself.

And so, after an inestimable amount of time, Ranma had pointedly given up, and instead tried for the opposite...

...Focus...

But on what? Well, there was certainly an easy enough choice – a pocket hole in his skills that had plagued his training for all these years – that variant of the Catfist which seemed only possible when the pigtailed fighter was in trance.

Even Cologne had claimed to see it on his very first day with the Joketsuzoku – a moment of his morning training when his bokkens had glinted with the shine of pure Chi – Chi that had allowed the wooden weapons to pass unhindered through rock as easily as it cut air.

Yes, it seemed that everyone, with the sole exception of the practitioner, had witnessed this feat. Up till now the ninja trainee had confronted the item with forced indifference – but now, now when the demands of the morrow would be so great, now when he would need to call on every ounce of skill and talent that could be extracted from years of practice – to have such an invaluable technique just beyond your grasp was infuriating to no end.

Abruptly discarding the errant thoughts, which only served to disrupt the balance and generate useless frustration, Ranma took a single, cleansing breath and settled into his new focus.

Within several very long minutes, unbeknownst to the wielder, his unsheathed blades began to glow.

**********

Ukyou wandered aimlessly, enjoying the refreshingly chilled evening air of the Bayankala Ranges. It was an experience that was easy to take for granted – and she was sure that she would come to miss the mountain environs once they returned to Japan.

Once we return to Japan.

That was a thought that the okonomiyaki chef had avoided dwelling upon – Japan, Kyoto, her father, the Saotome’s, Ranma – the whole mess that she would inevitably have to deal with. Ambiently, she wondered how the old patriarch of the Kuonji Clan was faring, and perhaps if he ever thought of his questing ‘son’ in China.

Nah, probably not.

Kuonji Harakuna had been more than willing to send his only child out to risk death in order to exact retribution in blood – Saotome blood – for crimes that impinged upon Clan honour.

But what about herself? Had it been honour – both her own and her family’s that had been the sole driving force behind the hunt? Here, far from her family, and close to her friend, once enemy, now friend again, she could admit that it had been more than that. In some indescribably profound way, Ukyou the girl had been hurt by her abandonment – hurt enough to become Kuonji Ukyou the boy.

But that was all in the past – though on very rare occasions of cold, sleepless nights, the hurt still ached like a pall in her heart - her only fear now was that the same honour, Kuonji honour, might once again break apart long lost companions.

And speaking of which...“Heya, Ranchan.”

The pigtailed trainee was just visible through the half-open doorway of one of the smaller public training halls to be found dotting the village. Sitting still as he was, cross-legged in the complete darkness, she would have very nearly missed him, had it not been for the gleam of moonlight reflected off the cold metal that lay upon his lap.

Acutely aware of how good his hearing was, the brown-haired girl was surprised when he showed no awareness of her presence. Inquisitively, she tried again. “Ranchan?”

When after several seconds there was still no reaction, she tentatively approached the motionless figure. Even when asleep, the ninja fighter was perennially easy to disturb – a result he had often claimed was due to being sneaked on as part of training back in Japan.

And yet...

Undaunted, Ukyou gently lay a hand on his shoulder.

**********

The light pressure on his right shoulder all but disrupted his concentration. Shocked to his core by the alarmingly close violation of airspace, the pigtailed ninja whirled about, his unsheathed katana seeming to melt into his hand as he moved to swiftly dispatch the invader. Guided by reflexes honed by continuous years of practice and revision, his hands and body unthinkingly moved their intricate pattern – sword and bared fingers manipulating the target before them into a readying killing position.

Ukyou gasped, as age old senses warned vainly of impending danger – the flash of a razor sword edge blinding her eyes to the precise hand movements that snapped her head back, exposing her open throat to the blade’s touch. Drifting backwards, feeling an almost surreal sensation of hovering in mid air, she cringed at the icy cold kiss of the metal as it seemed to drag across her skin for the longest of ages. Recognising in that moment, that dreadful hopeless knowledge that her life was soon to end, she offered but one final, mindless whimper, “Please...”

And cutting sharper than the katana in his grasp ever could, Ranma felt the voice, like a pealing clarion in his groggy mind, a voice in counterpart from within screaming for him to stop...stop it all...stop...

Forcing conscious awareness back to golden eyes that saw but did not see, the ninja became vividly sensate to the image before him – a slender girl with long chestnut hair, staring fixated at him with wide, soulfully terrified brown eyes, pleading wordlessly for mercy.

And then he saw the sword, marking a tiny, near invisible sliver of blood that trickled slowly down the edge of the katana.

It mattered not that the wound was barely a nick, that she was alive and still breathing from an intact throat – all he could see was that thick, richly crimson flow marring the baleful perfection of the blade and staining the collar of her shirt.

“Oh God...” The weapon fell gracelessly from weakened fingers, even as the hand around her neck loosened in sequence. “Oh God I’m sorry...so sorry...”

Staring aghast, his features contorted with the horrified realisation of what had come to pass, Ranma took a shaky step backwards, then another, and yet more – all in retreat from the appalling impression of what might have been but an instant later.

“I’m sorry...”

Frightened, though not quite aware of its origin, the pigtailed boy fled.

***********

Lying collapsed upon the wooden floor, still shocked into immobility, Ukyou shuddered over the raging thump of her rapidly throbbing heartbeat. She could barely breathe over the roaring torrent of blood mixed with the acridly sweet tang of pure fear, that sang high in her ears and drowned out all but glaring visions of those glowing swords.

Or had it been his eyes? Eyes that had shone with the light of her death?

No! This was Ranchan – good ol’ pigtailed Ranchan!

Vehemently the chef girl shook away the enduring after-image, only then noticing that she was once again alone.

For about twelve seconds that is.

“Where Ranma?” the stubbornly demanding voice piped from the training hall entrance. A curiously suspicious frown accompanied the query. Shampoo had entered with the clear expectation of seeing her beloved – and to instead see his best friend lying prone, pale faced and visibly shaking, was grounds in her mind for wariness.

“He’s...he’s not here.” Ukyou could only answer lamely, still a little disorientated.

Despite her obvious dissatisfaction with the response, the purple haired girl could not ignore her more immediate concern at the lack of sprightliness in the usually ever-cheerful chef.

“What happen to you?”

“I...” Now thinking a little more rationally, she was unsure as to how to respond to that. “Just had a little...tussle...with Ranchan is all.”

Shampoo eyed the sitting girl critically – her dishevelled and obviously frayed composure did not speak of anything little in the slightest. There was a peculiar moment of joy, that for once the pigtailed boy had beaten down his precious best friend, instead of the soft treatment she usually received - a moment that was quickly and guiltily suppressed. Getting a firm grip on her shoulder the Amazon hauled the chef to her feet.

“Now you tell Shampoo exactly what happened.”

“I...” Ukyou began uneasily. “I just tapped him on the shoulder – and you would have thought somebody had stuck a fork in his eye.” She rubbed at the still trickling welt upon her throat. “Damn near chopped my head off.” Suddenly, she whirled about. “Hey, where’s Ranchan?”

Frustrated beyond belief, Shampoo only just barely refrained from shaking a proper answer out of the brown haired girl. “Is what Shampoo asking stupid spatula girl!” Only to realise that she was now addressing Ukyou’s retreating back. “Hey, you wait!”

Stupid Japanese people. No matter that her beloved belonged to that particular race, they could be sooo frustrating sometimes.

Standing about alone in the now-empty hall proved not to alleviate the annoyance, and thus the Amazon grudgingly resolved to follow the wayward okonomiyaki chef.

**********

“Ranchan? ...No wait, don’t go.” Ukyou implored gently, seeing her friend about ready to bolt from sight once more.

He seemed indecisive for a few tense seconds, before slumping despondently against the tree once more. “I guess I’ll have to deal with this sooner or later – better sooner than later, right?” He offered a sickly smile at that.

Looking about, the girl absently noted that this was the same secluded meeting place where she had had her first real talk with the pigtailed boy. Forcibly brushing away the remnants of her instinctive fear, Ukyou gingerly squatted down beside her friend.

“Soo, want to talk about it, sugar?”

Despite the situation, he had to laugh at that. Over the months it had become their own personal way of dealing with awkward topics that needed to be discussed. “No I don’t really want to.” He looked up at her guiltily, “But you’re not gonna let me off that easy, right?”

A prolonged, and definitely discomforting silence followed.

“It wasn’t that bad, you know.”

That seemed to do it. “It damn well was, Ucchan, and you know it!” In an uncharacteristic display of emotions, Ranma angrily slammed his palm against the trunk, grimacing when he noted her reflexive flinch at the movement. “Even now you’re stilled scared shitless of me – and this is the third time as well.”

“No I’m not.” She argued, almost reflexively. At his subtle glare, the chef added reluctantly, “Okay...so maybe I am, a little – but deep down I know you would never actually hurt me.”

“Funny you ought to say that, when even I can’t say so for sure.”

Pulling out one of her throwing spatulas, she smacked him across the head.

“That hurt, you know,” he commented mildly after a few terse seconds.

“Stop being so damn pessimistic, you jackass!” She shouted into his ear, her outward seriousness somewhat betrayed by her cheerily glinting eyes.

“Spatula girl, you go here?”

Blinking in sudden shock, it took Ukyou a moment to realise that a cute, high pitched, and decidedly Chinese accented voice belonged to none of the present company.

***********

For a martial artist who was only supposed to be trained to defend her okonomiyaki cart, the spatula girl had a irritating habit of disappearing just when she was worth following.

Still, Shampoo was officially the best of her fighting generation – and confident that she had a pretty good estimation of where the chef had headed. “Spatula girl, you go here?”

Her instincts were subsequently rewarded upon finding the pair sitting together in the shade of a wooded grove. Noting Ukyou’s hand still resting in a comforting manner upon her beloved’s shoulder, the Amazon’s crimson eyes narrowed in distaste.

Rising from her seat by a fallen log, Ukyou looked almost guilty, easily interpreting the origin of Shampoo’s ire. “I’ll leave you two now.” She smiled cutely at both and without a further word headed off.

“Hmph.” True to her customary greeting, the purple-haired girl gave an affectionate hug to her love. “Ranma okay, yes?”

“Ranma okay yes.” He answered, his voice mildly teasing. Shampoo was after all kinda cute when she pouted.

Prodding him gently, she murmured, “Is very late now – Ranma need sleep now for big fight tomorrow.”

“True, I guess,” the ninja trainee nodded almost resignedly, his countenance dark once more. Before the girl could add anything further, he was already up and walking away. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight Sham...”

His voice died at the warm feeling of being quietly embraced from behind. “Remember, Shampoo be with you no matter what.”

Pausing for but a moment, he turned within her hold, answering genuinely, “Thank you for that.”

And to the lavender haired Amazon champion, she felt her own heart quail, as for the very first time her hug was returned. But within that instant the sensation had died, as he deftly escaped her grasp, and disappeared into the darkness of the Bayankala night.

Standing alone once more, Shampoo allowed a herself a small smile, remembering the look in his eyes. The eyes of a predator, eyes that Shampoo can live with looking at her for the rest of her life.

And yet, in the end, he had run away. She sniffed in petulant disapproval.

“Stupid Japanese people.”

 

***********

***********

 

Day 3.

Dawn, like any other dawn, save that for this one – to a minute group of ninja in a foreign land – this was to be the dawn of new members to their elite cadre.

It seemed like any other day at the Joketsuzoku village, at first. Unconventionally though, there was a great deal more activity than one would have expected in the darkness before sunrise. As per usual, amongst the earliest occupants of one Elder Cologne’s household to arise were Shampoo’s father, Kwai Lien – to prepare the morning meal for the family, and one pigtailed ninja trainee – to prepare for the morning battle.

Of course, neither Ukyou, nor Shampoo were aware of this, since they were to awaken a good half-hour later.

“Ohayo, Kwai Lien-san.” The brown haired chef greeted somewhat sleepily. Descending the stairway, she noted the absence of occupants at the breakfast table. “Where did everyone go?”

“Ranma ate and left early – he wanted to head out towards the Cursed Springs.” The man opened his hands beatifically. “Although I am not privy to such matters, I do believe that the elders and your Masters were up at pre-dawn preparing Jusenkyou for the trials – which is probably where Elder Cologne-sama is at as well.”

Staring quizzically at the rather diminutive Amazon man, Ukyou tried to imagine a meekly gentle soul such as him fathering a tempered girl like Shampoo. To that end, the only item which she could have linked parent and child were their almost startlingly similar crimson eyes.

“Oh...and as for my daughter, well, she’s behind you.”

Turning about, her eyes fell upon the rather impatient gaze of the lavender haired girl. “Spatula girl is blocking way.”

Mildly irritated by the Amazon fighter’s belligerent attitude, Ukyou decided to forgo breakfast this morning, and head off straight to find her friend.

*********

She found both the pigtailed boy, and his Korean friend standing side by side over the bluff that overlooked the infamous Jusenkyou Springs. Jusenkyou being Jusenkyou, and the kind of anathema that it was seen as by the Joketsuzoku people – this was a place which she had not even once ventured to visit.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Lano commented, as she joined the pair.

And looking out into the dazzling array of almost glowing pools, highlighted by the morning Sun, and frosted by the miasma of the rising mists, well, she had to agree. “Strange to think that a place like that can be so dangerous, eh Ranchan?” She nudged her companion.

“Only dangerous to some.” Pointing, he indicated the distant figure of the well-known Jusenkyou guide, and several other groups of people milling about between the pools. “Apparently the Amazons have some sort of special soap that you wash yourself in – supposed to stop water from coming into direct contact.” He shrugged. “So they walk amongst the pools comfortably enough, it seems.”

Squinting through the glare of the reflected sunlight, the chef could just make out the drab images of the darkly clothed Shinkasa ninjas amongst those below. “What are they doing down there anyway?”

“The Jusenkyou guide is the only person who knows exactly which pool gives what – he shows us which pools are ‘bad’ pools, and...” Ranma gestured towards another party, who were lugging an impressively sized tarpaulin across the banks. “...and we cover them.”

“I’m so disappointed,” Lano added. “All this talk back at Yamakaro about the Masters having their ‘special’ ways to stop us from falling into the wrong Springs, and it turns out to be a canvas sheet.”

“I hope they nail those pegs in tight.”

“I don’t like that guide person – it creeps me out the way he keeps pulling signs out of nowhere, and talking about tragic stories.”

The group laughed at that.

“Well anyways, I haven’t had breakfast yet – what time should I be back down there?” There was no need for her to ask what for.

“We start in two hours, or thereabouts.” Ranma answered sombrely.

“Ah, well I guess I’ll see you then, Ranma-honey.” She finished off uncomfortably, quietly feeling the dampening mood.

The remaining pair stood for a few more minutes, continuing to observe the organised bustle of the ant-like workers dotting the Jusenkyou Springs. The pigtailed ninja looked ready to follow after his chef friend, before Lano’s restraining hand forestalled him.

“Ranma?” Serious eyes conveyed the somewhat uncustomary gravity to his voice. “I have a...a proposition for you.”

**********

Fitting in as best as a be-spectacled, long-haired, white-robed Hidden Weapons Master could, Mousse milled about the borderlines of the Jusenkyou Springs. He had, of course, taken the precautionary measure of soaking in the water-proof soap, but then again the Amazon teenager wasn’t here to test the thoroughness of the substance.

Only one thing mattered – that cursed Saotome was going to fight here, and he was going to fall here as well.

And just what Springs would be available for him to soak was the subject of Mousse’s presence.

Damn foreigners, and their damn customs. To all sane people, the curse of a water reacting body was a terrible dishonour – a fate reserved strictly for punishments amongst the Joketsuzoku. And here these Japanese were making it their ultimate privilege.

We’ll just see about this privilege, Saotome.

*********

“I don’t like this, Lano.” Looking to the skies, Ranma almost wearily ran his hand through his thick hair. “I really don’t.”

“Look at it this way – what was the very first thing we were taught as ninjas?”

His reply was almost automatic. “Survival, and success – by any means...but...”

“But what? What chance do you reckon either of us stands alone?” The Korean indicated towards the rather subversively dark presence of Kagora and Kinaro as they stood several metres away, discussing unknown matters.

“Yes, but by this way, you forfeit your chance...”

“Like I even had a chance before.” Lano cheerfully slapped his slenderer companion on the back. “As long as there is victory, that’s all that should count, right?”

“Well...”

“Right?”

Ranma looked decidedly discomforted. “I really don’t like this, but...”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” The muscle-bound ninja interrupted happily. “Let’s show ‘em what Shinkasa’s finest pair can do, eh?”

“Look, if you ever change your mind...”

“Yes, yes...”

*********

Ukyou didn’t need the prior knowledge to tell that something big was coming up. Knowing the way her Ranchan usually fought – his trademark unassuming, almost casual style, and the fact that he seemed perpetually ready for combat – whatever the dress or environs, well, this was different.

Starting from the bottom up, the methodical, careful way he armed for this battle revealed a side she doubted any, save for perhaps Lano and Ranma’s teachers had ever seen. The simple black silken shirt and trousers which had been sufficient for daily training were now accompanied with cloth ankle guards, leather leg and arm bracers, steel knuckle guards, shoulder belts, wrist bindings...

“Ranma honey, you look ready to infiltrate the Imperial Palace.” She inwardly smiled as he clipped a pair of her throwing spatulas to the bandolier across his breast. “How come I’ve never seen you dressed up like this before?”

“Because there was never a need to.” Turning, the ninja trainee made a show of posing before his best friend. “Two katanas, one kodachi, two throwing knives, and two spatulas – so how do I look?” He smiled dryly.

“Like a true Shinkasa ninja,” came the reply from behind.

Both turned to see the Korean Weapons fighter standing by the door frame. “I won’t bother to tell you what I’m carrying – I’m not even so sure myself anymore.”

Ranma allowed his eyes a brief travel to the heavens. Amassed by an uncountable number of instruments, it was only Lano’s impressive strength that allowed him to stand without toppling over his own weight.

And that was just the visible ones.

“Let’s get going Ranma – they’re waiting for us.”

Silently, the pair headed for the path to Jusenkyou.

**********

Shinkasa Meyah stood proudly, as she watched her son march resolutely up to the confrontation point, her swords – their swords – strapped to his shoulder belt. Lano had already performed the brief ceremony, and now stood to the side, sporting a new black head bandanna with its silver Dragon and Tiger emblem. As the presentation was traditionally carried out in order of age, the pigtailed boy was to be the next to receive.

Looking to the small crowd of observers, the Swordmaster allowed herself a brief consideration over the exclusive choice of viewers to this – a most secretive of Clan traditions. Elder Khu Lon was present of course, with two other matriarchs, as was the Jusenkyou Guide and his daughter, but the others? The two clan guard members, Kino and Nagara had invited none but their host family lady, Siu Wei, and as for Ranma – well, she wondered if there was any meaning in that both of his guests were girls, and his age.

And here she was, standing as a Master of the Shinkasa Clan, while her own son approached to swear himself to their name – yes, today was truly a good day.

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it, Daikoto?” Kuranami murmured to her long time partner in the Shinkasa guard.

“Stop talking like an old woman – it’s only been six years since we were ‘ordained’.”

“Still, what I wouldn’t give for another venture with old Samatoru-sempai.”

As he had been instructed, Ranma walked evenly, straight-backed, and eyes raised to meet those of his Master and mentor. Though over fifty years his senior, there was an almost uncanny resemblance between the two – one that descended beneath the outward form, to grasp at that unnamed element beneath that the pair seemed to share.

As bright blue, young eyes met and bowed once before the grey, weather worn and experienced eyes, Meyah was once again forced to wonder as to what depths the Catfist could change the soul.

“Saotome Ranma, under what accolades do you seek to place your name in honour under the Tiger symbol of the Shinkasa?”

His voice was as clear and steady as it was direct – with neither pride nor shame. “As a practitioner of the Art of Shinkasa Taijutsu, the Tanpuku Kenbu Ryu,...”

Tanpuku Kenbu Ryu. Meyah stifled a smile – that was a name she had not heard in many years. She would later have to ask Ranma how he had come by it.

“...Nichieju no Wu-shu, Mutsbetsu Kakuto Ryu and the Shikontsume Moukoken....”

Almost as one, both Kinaro and Meyah straightened very slightly at that. Fang and Claw of the Tiger?

“...do I challenge any who see me as unfit for the Shinkasa name.”

“Swear by your chosen weapons, to uphold the honour and creeds of the Clan Shinkasa.”

With an eerily silent hiss, a katana was drawn, and presented in both hands to the Masters. The Swordmaster only barely withheld a most inappropriate giggle at the noiselessly mouthed curse from her father – yes, those weapons probably gave him bad memories.

With the utmost care, Ranma drew his fingers along the length of the razor edge, opening a paper sliver cut down his hand. “I swear by the sword, in blood.” Grasping the well-worn handle, he lightly coated the weapon haft with his life-fluid.

And finally, at last, Kagora brought forth the jet black cloth that had been held in his right hand. “Then take this, the symbol of the Shinkasa, and wear with it the burdens of your duty – eased by the skills you have proclaimed to have learnt to this day.”

Without even realising it, Ukyou released a shuddering breath, the suspense and tension to the moment easing away to a relieved nothingness. It took her breath away to see her Ranchan, for the first time since they were little, to hold a full, genuine, and unmarred grin as he knelt and removed his grey bandanna.

And to the boy himself, it was a strange non-event to feel the cool, clean fabric of the silken cloth embrace his forehead. How strange that I can attach so much sentiment and importance to a piece of black fabric.

“Arise then, Saotome Ranma, ninja of the Shinkasa.”

And thus standing, Ranma met his teacher eye to eye once more.

Trainee no more.

And all that remained was to prove it.

**********

Infirmary.

A place that Kuno Tatewaki, in his senior high school years, had grown accustomed to. “Verily, as doth the incandescence of this vicinity’s fluorescent lighting do blind mine eyes, do I realise my own lack of foresightedness.”

Rolling to his side, despite the chorus of complaints that issued from his body, Kuno refrained from staring at the lights any further. It should have been obvious, that in the months he had spent in seclusion, training his mind and body for combat, the goddess Tendo Akane would have done the same for herself.

Oh but this morn’s battle had been so close...so close. To tag her, even once, was a momentous achievement – and heralded to the upperclassman that his goal was within the reach of mortal hands. “Twouldst have been beyond even my broad insight to imagine that a single contact with the goddess in the throes of battle would fill my loving breast with such hope and confidence. Surely the Gods do smile upon the Great Shooting Star, and present me a clear avenue to victory.” Yes, if indeed he could keep the training up – the day would come when he would conquer the unconquerable.

And yet, in the end, and as of today, he had still lost. Maybe perhaps it was time to impose upon Saotome-dono to invest her Nito-Ichi Ryu knowledge upon himself.

Tendo Akane. Oh yes, truly the Way of Heaven was a strenuous one.

*********

“Now Ranma, who shall it be?”

A simple question, but loaded with a vast array of considerations. Who indeed would be the one to test his spirit over the Springs of Jusenkyou? But then, there was also the consideration of...

“Excuse me, sensei?” came the tentative query. It seemed the entire entourage had their attention now drawn to the source of that disruption.

Lano shifted to his other foot. “We have a...a proposal.”

Wordlessly, Kagora gestured for the Korean to continue.

“We ask that our duels be carried out in tandem.”

“Together.” Ranma added. “Two students against two Masters.”

More silence.

“You realise that this against tradition?” Kinaro said firmly.

“More a habit, rather than a tradition, Master Kinaro – simply that nobody ever thought to do otherwise.” Kagora rubbed his eyes fitfully. “Ah, you young ones and your innovations.”

Eyes twinkling, Meyah not-so-surreptitiously elbowed her father. “Why not? Afraid they have something nasty planned for us old-timers?”

The Swordmaster received what she had commonly categorised as ‘narrowed eyed look number two’ – translation, like all others: Insolent child.

“Allow us to confer.”

Not liking his extended stay within the centre of attention, Ranma’s eyes flew pensively about. Ukyou could almost have laughed at the caged expression on his face.

“These are the conditions.” Now, that drew everyone’s notice. Kagora lightly clasped his hands. “We duel in pairs over Jusenkyou – should one of you fall, the remainder must fight both Masters.”

“And if a Master should fall?”

If Kagora was perturbed by the suggestion, he gave no sign other than the slightest of nods. “Should a Master fall, then the challenger who selected him or her has the choice to drop out of the battle then, and claim his form, or to continue and assist his partner.”

“Seems fair enough.” Lano shrugged with forced indifference. “Master Kinaro, and Kagora, could you do us the honour then?”

With a curt nod, Kagora indicated his acceptance. “I take it that speaks for Ranma as well?”

“Indeed.”

“Well then, let us proceed.”

As one, the two men and two boys paced almost casually towards the outer limits.

“Look at them,” Ukyou whispered to her Amazon friend. “You’d think they were discussing the weather, just before a Sunday stroll.”

“Shh...” Shampoo murmured hastily. “Airen and muscle boy is planning something.”

Feeling the inexpressible tingling of close anticipation coursing down her spine, Ukyou tensed up – she hated suspense.

********

“They’re planning something, Kagora.” The Weapons Master muttered. “You know it...I know it, so why did you agree to this?”

“My my, Kinaro, are you actually worried that you might for the first time be defeated as a Master over Jusenkyou?”

His reply came as a suppressed growl. “Anyone else, and I’d have little concern – but your boy and mine are full of dirty tricks.”

“It matters not – aye we win, or we lose.” Absently, the old ninja master straightened the cuffs to his robe. “Think back to our days – we were never short of tricks.” If it weren’t for the fact that Kagora was, by nature, a very mild mannered man, his smile might have been interpreted as predatory. “My pupil thinks he can beat me eh?”

Looking to the heavens, as if asking for divine forbearance, Kinaro silently mouthed his prayer.

********

“What did he just say?” Ukyou asked the Swordmaster, who had just joined their group.

Meyah laughed in consideration. “Kagora is annoyed, Kami-sama preserve us – especially me.” Gazing towards her son as he took position, she added. “And I can share his sentiment, and be right glad that neither Ranma, nor Lano chose me to be their opponent.”

Shampoo looked to the taller lady, obviously surprised. “Is not great honour to be asked?”

“Perhaps.” Meyah hesitated for but an instant. “However, it is the duty of the student to go ‘all out’ to try and defeat his Master – no considerations for his enemy’s safety; and thus the onus is on the Master, not only to topple her student, but to ensure that neither is seriously hurt in the process.”

“Soo...”

“So I am not sure if Ranma, by his nature, could ever seriously try to injure me – and if he could, well...well I know for sure that I would have trouble fighting my own son at that level.”

“In Amazon Championships Shampoo have no trouble fighting for real against enemy.”

“You will soon get to see what it means to remove the restrictions off a Ninjitsu warrior.”

*********

“You take the bamboo post, Ranma.” Lano indicated the delicately swaying post embedded into the muddy earth. “I’m a little weighed down for that.”

Glancing towards their opponents, who were taking similar stances, with the heavily laden Weapons Master also on the ground, the pigtailed trainee had to wonder at the true usefulness of them doubling up the battles. Staring, as Kinaro steadily unlatched his sword – a giant no-dachi, Ranma remarked mildly, “You know, in all these years, I never did get around to learning how to wield one of those.”

“They come.”

Master and pupil sized each other up – the twenty metres between them now seeming longer than ever. He thought he might have seen a single nod of acknowledgement from the old trainer, or perhaps Kagora was merely gauging the lie of the Sun.

All consideration of that was discarded, two seconds later.

They came at once – Kagora from above, and Kinaro from below. Tracking their movements with his cat quick eyes, Ranma noted that the Ninja Master was attacking with a sai in both hands.

The sai – a weapon to disarm a swordsman.

And, in an astonishing display of speed that belied his massive appearance, the Weapons Master was rumbling towards his own student, no-dachi in hand.

They aim to keep us separate and fighting individually. Not bothering to wonder if Lano had guessed the same in that critical half-second, he tossed his katana down towards the Korean – the other hand already extended to catch the bo-staff that would soon be sent up.

It was somewhere between that point of decision and action, that Kagora comprehended the change – that Kinaro was now facing a katana wielding ninja, and himself...a bo-staffed pigtailed boy.

Bouncing under his own inertia, he furiously parried a stabbing jab from the iron capped tool, grunting as the shock of the impact travelled up the arm. Ignoring the numbness, he stabbed from below, seeking to undercut the boy’s guard.

It was only Ranma’s Amaguriken speed training that saved him from a nasty stomach wound – his katana only half-drawn when it blocked the darting sai. Twisting away and flipping over the crouching Ninja Master, he let the bo-staff fly to strike Kinaro in the back.

And Lano did not fail his partner, having already flung the borrowed katana back. He could have smiled at their perfect coordination, were it not for the fact that the Weapons Master had seemingly shrugged off the strike, and was battering him with his massive Japanese sword.

*********

“They’ve been practicing for this.” Cologne commented appreciatively. “Neither even had to look to see where the other’s weapon was coming from, nor was there any sign to change.”

Ukyou cringed as she watched her childhood friend mercilessly stab at his Master, who was only just able to deflect the lightning quick sword points. “They’re gonna kill each other.”

Block, strike, slash high, slash high again, low stab... She found herself chewing her lower lip in nervousness. “Oh God.”

*********

Ranma had long ago recognised that the level of dexterity being employed was well beyond even his own conventions. The battle had not even reached the first minute, and he could feel the strain of too many super-speeded movements wearing down his endurance.

Slashing wildly, he cleared a moment’s space – sheathing one of his blades, and in the same movement flipping a throwing knife into the free hand.

Trained from childhood to avoid flying projectiles, Kagora easily twisted around the path of the speeding blade – but the recognition that he had had not been the target only came during his descent. Nonetheless, he had no time to dwell on that as his student attacked with a vicious cross-cut – both razor edges coming to within millimetres of shaving off his nose.

Deaf to the reflexive gasp of shock from the crowd, Lano reached behind and caught the throwing knife that would have impaled itself in his back. “Kachu Tenshin Amaguriken!” Twisting in a full circle, he just as quickly sent it flying back – the other hand catching Kinaro’s downward slicing cutlass on his bracer.

Cutlass?

**********

Shampoo had fought many Amazons to establish her position as best maiden warrior in the village – indeed both the bruises and details of her championship match were still very fresh.

But this was different. Upon the training log, you fought to win, but you fought with rules – many of them unspoken, but common sensical laws of respect and honour to a martial artist.

She blinked as Lano gouged a hefty amount of muddy soil with his machete, sending it flying towards Kinaro – who promptly re-directed it towards her Airen.

Oh yes, this was very different.

**********

“This match would have been straightforward were it not for their damn trickery.” Kinaro muttered.

The two teams had separated, and by unvoiced agreement settled for a thirty second breather – unprecedented, since up till now, all Shinkasa duels over the Jusenkyou Springs had been settled in less than half the time.

The Weapons Master had doffed several of his heavier inventory in favour of more mobility. Unlike his taller, slenderer companion, he had taken injuries – amongst other minor cuts, a somewhat painful slice across the cheek from a thrown spatula.

“They keep us off balance with their constant exchange of weaponry.” Kagora eyed his student warily. “Throwing knives between them, such that we can never tell when they are actually aimed at us.”

“We finish this in the next three minutes, Kagora, else I’ll...” Kinaro was never able to finish his statement, as he was forced to expend air dodging the incoming arrow.

Wondering just where the hell Iyarasora had kept his five foot bow – The Weapons Master moved once more into battle.

*********

The mental clock that ticked continuously within Ranma’s mind – what with Kagora’s lightning speed for even his most basic manoeuvres, and Master Kinaro’s penchant for destroying anything in front of him, it was only the partners’ timing that saved them from being dunked. Trampolining off a tarpaulin covering a banned Spring, Lano tossed a short dagger, linked to his wrist by a long cable, apparently aiming for Kagora’s chest.

Bending over the arcing blade, the Ninja Master moved to ensnare the whipping line, hoping perhaps to pull the running youth off balance. Closing a hand on the cable, he inwardly winced – the wire had been dipped in liquid glass, and cut painfully across unprotected flesh.

And only then came the realisation that the line was already very taut...and...

Having caught the projected dagger, the pigtailed ninja flew in tandem with the Weapons ninja – the pair crossing each other, still carrying the wire between them.

He saw the loop, the curve of the snare as it closed in at an unbelievable speed, seeking to tighten and trap an unwary Ninja Master of the Shinkasa.

But Kagora was accustomed to the unbelievable, bending over backwards in mid-air, and still somehow managing to fend off the double bladed attack of his pupil.

But only barely – and he was poorly prepared for the blindside surge from the other ninja.

And in one of those instants of clarity – despite the milliseconds of instants, Kagora found the time to ask himself two questions:

Where the hell was Kinaro when you needed him? And why were both he and Iyarasora heading for an uncovered Spring?

**********

As far as Master to student battles were concerned, this particular one had not being going well for Kinaro. He was certainly no stranger to Jusenkyou – having initiated several groups over the waters in his long career as Weapons Master of the Shinkasa.

But what was even worse was that, though just for a few terse seconds, he had been left entirely alone by both ninja fighters.

And to have the opportunity in a duel to totally ignore a Shinkasa Master spoke of planning – and Kinaro could feel it in his experienced bones that the culmination of the dratted student’s plotting was soon to be realised.

As if in answer to his gut suspicion – the Weapons Master watched with a detached fascination as both black band ninjas moved in concert about Kagora. Ripping the net that had been used to bind him apart, the massive fighter roared like the Grizzly bear he resembled.

**********

Feeling the world turning about, Kagora urgently jabbed at all the critical points – knowing that time was almost up. The dratted Korean had him in a very stubborn, and certainly most un-ninjerly bear hug, pulling both of them to their doom in the inviting waters of Jusenkyou.

Weaving a tight circle about the struggling pair, Ranma relentlessly hauled the cable that connected his arm to his friend – pulling the entire lot towards the nearest pool.

As had been planned.

And as the plan had intended, left without a foot hold, both Master and ninja toppled off the muddy bank.

Out of time, and out of room for elaborate thinking, the old Master wedged his open hand between their torsos, and somehow managed to find the room for a furtively quick gesture.

To be able to count the time that passed as gravity asserted its dominance would have been impossible, and yet Ranma could see with crystal clarity, as his companion’s eyes widened in shock when a massive slam of force punched his sternum. And that piercing, almost painful clearness continued to reveal a black-band ninja flying helplessly to his doom, as the Ninja Master used the inertia of the near invisible chi-bolt to springboard himself off the Korean fighter.

Straight into Kinaro.

“Aaaauuuuggghh!!!!!!”

**********

“Oh...dear.” Cologne commented mildly.

“I’ll say,” Ukyou muttered, only then realising that her hands had been tightly clenched for an uncomfortably long time.

The splash was certainly impressive enough.

And if Ranma was disappointed by the fact that there was still one survivor from the mess – notably his sensei, well, his expressionless gaze certainly hid it well.

“Dammit Kagora, I was trying to help you!!” Kinaro shouted as he struggled for a decent foothold in the soft bed of the pool. Almost as an afterthought, he turned about, in search of his wayward student.

He didn’t really have to look far – after all it’s not that difficult to overlook a floundering fox, when you’re squashed up against it.

“Oh sir, you fall in Hunichuan, Spring of Drowne.....”

“I know what Spring he fell into!” Kinaro barked roughly. “Help me get him out of here.”

Visibly disappointed, the Jusenkyou Guide pocketed the sign he had already prepared, as well as the tragic story that was to be attached to it. However, on hand with a spacious towel, he delicately gathered the confused animal into its drying folds.

“Oh...my.” She’d been told of it, talked of it, and thought about it nearly every close day leading up to this moment.

But to see it before her very eyes... “Okay...wow.”

At least outwardly not as perturbed, Shampoo’s only comment was a mild, “Somehow, Shampoo think curse is very...suitable for muscle boy.”

“Before we get too distracted...” As one, all eyes, including the fox’s, turned to the old Ninja Master, still standing patiently against a bamboo pole. “Ranma?”

“Hai, sensei.”

And once more, they were at it again.

Sighing, Ukyou wearily rubbed her eyes. “I don’t think my nerves can take much more of this.”

“It only been five minutes, spatula girl.”

“Like I was saying...”

**********

Balancing delicately upon the precariously thin bamboo pole, Ranma cautiously gripped his last remaining throwing knife – eyes riveted solely upon the rangy Ninja Master that stood upon the post across the covered pool before him.

He could feel it in the atmosphere – knowing that a mistake, any mistake, would cost him the battle. And the way that Master Kagora now fought spoke of a pristine, systematic methodology that had never been apparent in the previous four way duel.

In the first thirty seconds, he’d lost a katana – sent spinning off to sink at the bottom of a Spring. It took a further minute or so to be relieved of the second.

Remove the cat’s claws before you skin it.

A low, almost feral growl escaped his throat – Saotome Ranma, practitioner of the Anything Goes unarmed style wasn’t going to be taken down that easily.

Without even thinking, the pigtailed fighter leapt off his high perch, landing on all fours.

**********

Ukyou painfully swallowed a gasp – she knew that stance very well.

“Shampoo know that stance very well.”

And apparently so did others.

“Look to the other.” From her diminutive position close to the ground, Cologne pointed out his opponent with her cane.

Shinkasa Kagora – crouching predatorily, on hands and feet.

**********

On some unseen signal, Master and student burst towards each other in a blast of graceful speed – and though no one could track the events that transpired at their point of meeting, the after-effects were apparent enough.

Sparing a risky moment of inattention, Ranma looked down to see the collar of his silken shirt hanging loosely open, supported by the few threads that had remained intact. But before he could investigate further, the pigtailed ninja was forced to evade once more, slamming to the dirt to avoid an arcing swing from the Master’s sai.

Rolling and scrabbling desperately on the ground, he was millimetres from being clouted as Kagora mercilessly kicked and stamped, never allowing the boy a moment to regroup himself.

“Soon now.” Cologne muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

Sensing, more than seeing that Kagora had been steadily steering him towards an open Spring, and that he was very nearly out of room, Ranma blindly reversed his direction, and in his variation of the Amazon’s Splitting Cat Hair’s technique, flung his aura to the right while moving to the left. That instant’s distraction was all that was needed to slam into the slender Ninja Master, and use an Anything Goes technique to literally clamber over the top of the surprised attacker.

Though in the end he had not gained much – the narrow borderlines between the pools resulting in his deposition into a neighbouring Spring.

Which by the God’s luck just happened to be covered.

Except...

“KUSO!” The boy gasped, as the tarpaulin gave way under his weight. This wasn’t right – they were supposed to be secure enough to take a man’s weight. Feeling the flimsy cloth starting to cave, he risked all in a sudden leap, grabbing the nearest solid support, and praying that the surface tension against the canvas would support his movement.

And it did – though only barely – and added to that his choice of support could have been somewhat wiser.

*********

Master Kagora found himself caught in a quandary – immense pride at the equally immense skill displayed by his own student, and the irritation that the damn boy just wouldn’t lie still and get dumped like a decent ninja.

And that was the second time he’d been used as a vaulting pole. Revealing an unusually expressive frown, the old ninja twisted about, and in a lightning quick jab seized Ranma by his pigtail and viciously yanked downwards.

Nobody touches my pigtail like THAT!

It was as if there were some gravitational force that drew him inexorably towards the nearest water source – no matter what methods he devised, no matter the extent of his skills, somehow, Master Kagora was always able to counter them and steer him straight back.

And this time, the Ninja Master was taking no chances, keeping a firm reverse grip he dashed for the water, intent on throwing the both of them to the Spring. Yes, he would make sure the stubborn boy was dunked even if both of them had to get wet for that to happen.

Face whitening with the strangling pain of Kagora’s grip at the base of his neck, Ranma watched with a semi-detached interest as the view of the serene waters rose to encompass his vision.

For the honour of the Shinkasa...clasping his hands before his head like a diver, he made the slightest of gestures. “Amaguriken.”

*********

“What was...” Shampoo blinked, astonished. “Shampoo miss what...”

Unexpectedly, it was Ukyou who answered her. “That invisible chi blast Master Kagora uses.” The chestnut haired girl smiled, in martial artist’s appreciation. “Ranchan saw how Master Kagora used it – damn he learns fast.”

The Amazon eyed her companion suspiciously. “Shampoo no know Airen already know technique. How...”

Any further comment was cut off once more.

*********

Swearing lividly, the Ninja Master felt the both of them drifting away – riding on the force of Ranma’s blast into the Spring.

Not bloody likely.

A quick slice with a Catfist blade, and he requisitioned a bamboo rod in passing – using it to pole-vault them straight back.

If he had the time and breath to sigh, Ranma certainly would have.

I give up.

“And stay down you stubborn boy!!”

The splash, as before was very impressive.

**********

The feel of the cool, almost seductively embracing wash of the Spring’s waters as he sank through them was very quickly eliminated by a constrictingly tight, yet still strangely pleasant hold.

A hold, but on what?

Intellectually realising that he was now, as the Amazons would have named it ‘cursed’ – he tried to mentally brace himself for the change – that one moment he had been preparing for months, finally arriving.

The chilly gust of Bayankala’s mountain air as it toyed with the fresh droplets still trickling in rivulets down his skin was a welcome...wait a moment, skin?

“Oh sir, you fall in Nuannichuan, Spring of Drowned Girl.” Delighted that nobody had sought to interrupt, the Guide continued avidly. “Very tragic story about young girl who drow...” The focus of his explanation was in no mood to register his informative speech.

This wasn’t right. He still had hands – human hands that is. Just to make sure, Ranma lifted them out of the shallow water to examine them.

Yes, his hands – perhaps there had been some...mistake? Looking up to see Master Kagora staring at him intently, the ninja ambiently wondered why everyone had gone all so quiet. “Um, am I...”

Startled, Ranma very nearly toppled over. That wasn’t my voice. It was too high pitched – like when he was a lot younger. But then, who’s voice was it?

He certainly didn’t feel any younger...

“Uh, R-Ranchan...”

As the seconds passed, he began to feel more and more uncertain. As a matter of course, the ninja stood up to give himself a rudimentary check.

Although he didn’t get very far.

“What the...” That voice again. But more importantly – what the hell was stuffed down the front of his shirt?

“Ranma...” Kagora began patiently, placing a gentle hand on the bo...err...child’s shoulder.

They’re breasts.

“...There’s no need for alarm now...”

They’re MY breasts.

“...this is still, err, normal...”

“NyaAARGhhhHH!!!!!!!!”

********

And off to another land, where people were considerably more...calm...

“The Nito-Ichi Ryu?” Nodoka, to say the least was quite surprised. “Two Swords as one?” Setting down her teacup, she laid an uncertain gaze upon her sole student, who was still sporting various bandages about his form. “I do not consider myself sufficient to practice it – are you so sure that you are capable?”

“Nothing is beyond the Great Shooting Star...Nothing!!”

A sword style so intricate and complex, that its existence bordered on the mythical – whether even as great a warrior as Musashi could have fully mastered it was debatable. And here was this high school student, asking for her to teach him – teach him kenjutsu with twin katanas.

“I have texts, handed down through generations of my line, holding the teachings of the Nito-Ichi Ryu, but...” Nodoka uncomfortably straightened her kimono, “...but, I myself never even dreamed of consulting them. I can read from them, and instruct you, though perhaps it would be better if you could find yourself a true...”

The boy hastily interrupted. “Twould seem my faith in you surpasses that which you hold for yourself.” His upraised hand halted any further argument. “I ask that you try your best to tutor me – nothing more. Let my conquering of mine love be the adjudicator of our success.”

Nodoka beamed happily – he was such a manly boy to be doing so much in the pursuit of a girl. Although, he did tend rather heavily towards the...

“Verily do I cometh towards thee with open arms of welcome – against all odds, against all that might oppose, against...”

...shall we say, melodramatic?

********

Looking up, Ryouga wondered at the faintly familiar voice that echoed across the roadway. That almost sounded like...

But that couldn’t be right – if it was Kuno, then he’d still be within the Nerima precinct, when that rice farmer had specifically stated that they were in Shikoku. Of course, that had been yesterday, but Ryouga was fairly sure he hadn’t crossed any significant bodies of water recently. Maybe he was lying. Groaning forlornly, the muscled fighter threw aside his doubts, and once more, like he had at least a hundred or so times before, looked down to consult his well-worn map.

It didn’t seem to particularly bother the boy that it was, in fact, a map of South East Asia – and even then one pulled from a nineteenth century history text – there were several island groups that, if you turned the sheet sideways, bore a passing resemblance to Japan.

Here seemed to be about as good as any place to take a breather – and thus Ryouga dumped his schoolbag to the side and settled in for a good half-hour’s worth of moping. It had been his first night in many months out in the open, without the familiar comforts of his own futon underneath a solid roof that didn’t ripple with the night breeze.

He would have given much for that even – after all this time of relative security, the wanderer had eventually stopped bothering to carry around his old travelling backpack and tent – where it had been a practical necessity for one who was bound to lose his way within the day, with Akane to guide him it only served to garner peculiar stares from his fellow highschoolers.

At least that had been the mentality two days ago...and now...brushing back dirty, unruly hair, the martial artist swore heavily.

He was cold, he was lost, and he had no Akane.

Man, life sucked.

*********

“How is he doing?” Meyah worriedly queried, her voice layered with noticeable concern.

Kagora toyed with his fingers thoughtfully. “Actually, with all things considered – I think he is taking it a lot better than I would have expected.” Looking to is daughter, he added. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“I did. He said ‘I’m fine, Master Meyah.’ ” She frowned disapprovingly. “It was one of those – please go away I want to be left alone kind of ‘I’m fine’s’.” The Swordmaster looked ready to leave it at that, before she suddenly blurted, “Did you have to fight him so hard?”

“Pardon?” The old Ninja Master appeared genuinely surprised. “We are supposed to fight to our fullest – a true test of the candidate’s mettle – and in any case how does that affect the situation at hand?”

Staring distantly towards the afternoon Sun, Meyah murmured quietly, “It is not just his alternate form - Ranma was honestly trying to fight to win. Besides...” her look bordered on a glare. “I’ve never ever seen you get so infused into a battle before – what was all that swearing and cursing?”

And it was then that she was to observe yet another first – her father, the enigmatic Master Kagora, looking very sheepish.

“Yes, well I cannot say I am particularly proud of that.” He coughed embarrassedly into a voluminous sleeve. “I do not know what became of me then – that boy...that boy was just so stubborn.”

“Perhaps he reminded you a little too much of yourself.” Meyah shook her head in amazement. “I still cannot believe it was my father who bellowed at his student to stay put. It was as if you and yonder Kinaro had exchanged places in that instant.”

Kagora held his hands open in acceptance. “As I see it, it is to Ranma’s credit – there are precious few who have ever been skilled enough to fluster me so.” Whipping his right hand across with enough speed for it to whistle through the air, he continued absently. “And their planning – throughout the entire battle, it was intended that the Iyarasora boy would sacrifice himself by taking me down with him, and thus presenting your son with victory.”

She shook her head disbelievingly. “I cannot tell if that was a sheer act of friendship, or part of some higher ridiculous plan.”

“Oh, definitely the latter.” Kagora smiled knowingly. “Neither counted their chances of actually defeating a Master as being very significant – so instead, Iyarasora decided that at least one of them would be given that opportunity.” Raising his hand to rub thoughtfully against his chin, the old fighter murmured wonderingly, “And he could have won that battle though – had he dared to employ the Nekoken on his Master at that last moment.”

“You know Ranma – especially after how you have instructed him, he would never have even considered it.”

“Ah, but the boy did.” The man’s gaze glinted sagely. “I saw it as we flew, in his eyes, that golden glow of the predator in him – daring him to try it.”

“And you are proud of that?” His daughter’s demeanour was caught midway between disgust and shock. “I always thought we had an understanding that you would never seek to align his future with your history.”

Turning to her, the Ninja Master answered curtly. “Indeed.” But before she could relax, he continued abruptly. “But recall his words – Shikontsume Moukoken – a technique that at one stage was so infamously renown, that it took on its own nickname of sorts – the Catfist.”

“Your point being...”

“My point being that in the end it is still a warrior’s technique – one that should never have been created, one that should never be preserved, and yet one that this Shinkasa Master before you had in his youth come to rely on.” Almost ashamedly, he whispered, “Forgive an old man’s pride at seeing his most loved and valued heir carry on all the skills and knowledge of his sensei to the fullest.”

Turning away from him, Meyah murmured through tight lips. “I am heartily confused by what you say – but as my father, and the one I have loved and trusted unconditionally above all others, I will give you the benefit of the doubt.” Holding his gaze with one last, piercing look, she growled dangerously, “But blood ties or otherwise, Ranma is my son, and the Kami forgive anyone who would disturb his sanctity.”

Because I certainly will not.

********

Ukyou stared long at the sitting figure – still Ranma, still very obviously a...a female.

A girl, with fiery red hair, pouty, almost elfin lips, petite, slender, and yet devastatingly curvaceous. Her childhood friend – the lethally deadly and sombre Saotome Ranma.

“Ranchan?” The voice was only a hesitant venture, but in the hour long soundless void of the room, its intrusion was akin to a thunderclap.

“Greetings.”

She flinched at the unfamiliar tone – a poignant contrast to the familiar words and accent. Aware that his gaze was upon her, and that he had most certainly noticed her reaction, she flushed in embarrassment. “I won’t lie to you, Ranchan. Talking to you like this...no, just trying to convince my eyes that it’s still you under there is really hard.”

Emotionless eyes somehow gave their acknowledgment and acceptance.

“But that’s only for now.” Taking a pensive breath, the girl dived headlong into her next statement. “I swear this doesn’t change anything about us.”

“Of course not.” He, no she looked away, rubbing her arms, feeling their slender softness.

Trying to convince herself that those arms, this body did indeed belong to himself...herself...whatever.

Crouching in companionable silence, Ukyou hesitantly placed a comforting arm around the smaller figure.

Smaller...man this is soo weird. Forcibly shutting away the errant thoughts, she whispered quietly. “You’re still my Ranchan.”

Raising bright, opal blue eyes, the Shinkasa ninja looked ready to answer – and she might have, save for...

“Shampoo very disappointed in Airen.” The Amazon warrior had a harsh frown to match, as well. Tossing her thick, purple hair to the side, she marched up to the redhead, and to the utter shock of all company present, hoisted Ranma to the sky and threw her bodily across the room.

Perhaps it was that this new form was still unfamiliar to her, or that she felt no inclination to put in the effort, but against her usual graceful elegance, Ranma crashed heavily against the hard wooden wall, bouncing off to flop to the equally solid floor.

“Heya now Sham...”

“Quiet, Spatula Girl!” The Amazon shot a glare at the okonomiyaki chef. “Shampoo have words for you later.”

Returning her fierce, crimson gaze to the pigtailed girl, she continued as if uninterrupted. “Will admit Shampoo always think you people have strange custom – jumping into cursed Springs like it be big honour. But...” Again she grabbed the petite girl by her jet black shirt, only this time shaking her like a rag doll. “...But Shampoo no like how you make it big dishonour to become girl.” Before he could answer to that, she barked, “What is big problem with girl type?”

The look in Shampoo’s eyes very well conveyed that it would be better to not answer that question. Nonetheless, Ranma dared to venture a reply. “Absolutely nothing – unless you’re a boy.”

Leaning forwards, till their noses nearly touched – her shining red eyes filling his vision, the Amazon murmured almost defiantly, “Shampoo was born girl. Shampoo is proud to be girl.” Her gaze turning dangerously enticing. “And Shampoo can show Airen many goood things about girl-type.”

He was blushing furiously at the rather blatant insinuation – although no outward observer would have ever been able to notice, given that the diminutive girl was more or less entirely smothered in an all-encompassing embrace, followed shortly by a...a...

In the history of their relationship, this could have been recorded as the second time they had kissed – or rather Shampoo kissed Ranma – however...

“Ugh, that’s gross!...”

Looking up at the unwelcome comment, Shampoo only grinned smugly at the chestnut haired girl. “Now Shampoo get first kiss off both girl-type and boy-type Ranma.” Scrunching her brow in a mock-frown, she rudely poked the stunned redhead in the chest. “Prefer boy-type though – things not get in way.”

“Ooohh m-man I’m glad Lano didn’t see that.” Ranma shakily breathed. Almost fearfully, she furtively looked about, as if to confirm her assertion.

“Relax Ranchan, he’s still back at the kitchen playing with his forms.” Ukyou physically wrenched her gaze from the couple before her, trying to dispel the still fresh image of their locked lips. “

“Shampoo have to go there too – making meal for great-grandmother.” Tightly, the busty Amazon girl hugged her love once more, forcing her to look once more into soulfully expressive ruby eyes. “Remember what Shampoo say – is no lie.”

And, just as suddenly as her arrival, she disappeared out of the room.

It seemed for the minutes that followed, neither of the remaining pair were sure or willing to break the silence.

“I...I suppose that was supposed to cheer me up?” The pigtailed girl brought her fingers to still tender lips. “Well, it sure as hell woke me up.”

“I’ll bet it did,” the chef responded darkly, more to herself than anyone else. I can’t *believe* she did that.

Staring quizzically at his friend, Ranma nonetheless continued. “Do you know what else just occurred to me? I’ve been sitting here sulking, and nearly everyone I closely know has come to cheer me up – like I’m some sorta basket-case.”

“We all care about you, honey.” She affectionately pushed her friend.

“I’m not going to be some pitiful wimp that runs away from his own lot in life.” Suddenly, she turned to catch the taller girl’s gaze.

Deep, vividly blue orbs – so very blue – the eyes of her childhood friend. Eyes framed by fiery, crimson...

Shuddering, Ukyou took a deep breath. “Man, this is gonna take some getting used to, sugar.” Before the pigtailed girl could turn away, she added hastily, “You’re far from a wimp, Ranchan – the Kami knows you have to go through much more than any normal person.” Normal being the subjective word, that is.

Frustratedly, Ranma ran a hand through her hair. “I was prepared to turn into any type of animal you know. Any type. But look at this.” Unaware of how it changed her appearance, she hefted her chest bound assets to emphasize their already prominent existence – that is before the feelings the action generated became too confusing. “Ack, damn breasts.”

“T-trust me, sugar – don’t ever do that again in public.”

Continuing on as if unhearing, Ranma muttered. “I’m a guy...guy enough to know that this body is damn cute.” Uncharacteristically emotional, she slammed her hand to the wooden floor. “Dammit, it’s bad enough to have to change genders...but this?”

“This what?” Ukyou fired back. “If you had to turn into girl – wouldn’t you want to be a good-looking one?”

“Coming out of the Springs, I could see Daikoto-sempai, and even Lano...you know, checking me out.” Sourly, he grumbled, “And the worst thing is that I can’t really blame ‘em – I’d check myself out if I saw me walking down the road.”

Ukyou could think of nothing to say that would alleviate that statement. Wordlessly, she brought her arms around her friend, ignoring the soft feel of their pressure against each other. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I think you look cuter as a guy.”

“Marvellous,” Ranma responded dryly. Placing a small hand over her companions, her tone softened. “But...thanks, Ucchan – I really mean in it.”

Eyes twinkling warmly, she cheerily said, “You’ve all gone and finished your training, gotten your alternate forms – so it’ll be soon time to head back to good ol’ Japan right?” Another loving squeeze, and she murmured, “I’m in no hurry to get anywhere – I can hang around as long as you want.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you – it’s hard enough to believe you’ve stayed with me, in a another country, for this long.”

“It’s not as if I missed anything back home.”

The pigtailed girl eyed her meaningfully. “One year’s worth of Junior High?”

“Ah...right, I guess we all have some catching up to do then.” Sheepishly, the chef realised that she had, through all the months of her stay here, entirely forgotten about school.

“Well,” Ranma leapt nimbly to her feet. “I’ve had enough of sulking – let’s go see how Lano’s handling himself.” Abruptly she tottered as her relatively new body asserted its relatively new sense of balance.

And was promptly stabilised by Ukyou.

“Ah right, thanks.”

*********

At seeing the pair approach, Lano waved his greeting. “Consider yourself lucky – you still have hands after you transform.” He ruefully indicated the large splash area surrounding his sitting position next to the hot and cold water repository. “Taken me ages to work out how to get myself back to human form.”

“So...what does it feel like?”

“What does it feel like for you?” Not bothering to wait for an answer, he scratched his head thoughtfully. “Surprisingly...normal. Well, not normal – but not really as weird as I would have thought.”

“That is because, within the magic of a Jusenkyou Spring is the instinctive knowledge of the creature contained within that Spring.”

Well grilled by Ranma’s similar habit of entering unnoticed, the party barely flinched at all – barely.

“I don’t like how that sounds, Master Meyah,” Ranma commented darkly.

“We can only assume that to be so – after all, I knew how to fly almost immediately after arising from the waters, and Iyarasora here clearly knows how to run on four legs.” She smiled mildly at the increasing discomfort on her son’s features. “I must say we have not had this sort of...gender transformation in a long while – if at all.” As if to alleviate her son’s fears, she added, “Judging from the way you carry yourself, I would say that your male personality outweighs any that might have been carried through by Jusenkyou.”

“And it will stay that way as long as I have a say in it.”

“Yes, yes.” The Swordmaster hurriedly waved off her son’s emphatic declaration. “It is lunch time now, and although your deeds for today may be done – I still have to see off our other two fine young ninjas.”

Remembering then that Daikoto and Kuranami had yet to even start their trials, Ranma cursed his own self-pity. “I guess I’d better go have a few words with them.”

After all, they would be wanting some pointers on how to fight Shinkasa Masters over the Springs of Jusenkyou.

**********

Left largely to his own this day, one Hidden Weapons Master angrily fumed in silence.

“Damn you, damn you, Damn you Saotome!!”

Alright, perhaps not so silent.

But he had just cause. Mousse had risked a great deal to intrude upon the Jusenkyou area after it had been declared off-limits for the Shinkasa usage - and all apparently for naught. Although the Amazon boy had not been privy to the knowledge of just what curse that cursed Saotome had been given, he was fairly certain from the general atmosphere that it hadn’t been from one of those pools that had been covered.

It was petty – even Mousse acknowledged it to himself – but after close to year of that dratted bastard always, and he meant literally always getting the upper hand over every incident, the Hidden Weapons practitioner would have been satisfied with just about any victory, however insignificant.

Yes, it had been close to a year, and he’d never get the chance for revenge, now that the entire training group would be leaving...

...Leaving...

“Shampoo, my LOVE!!!!”

 

***********

***********

 

Day 4.

“Up so early, Kinaro?” The stout Shinkasa warrior turned to see Kagora joining him to appraise the rising Sun.

“Yes, I awakened early – too many aches.” He coughed heavily into his cupped hands, generating a respectable cloud of steam. Although they were beyond the end of the Winter season, it seemed that the Bayankala Ranges were not readily willing to acknowledge it so. “The weather does not help my bruises.”

“You were rather hard done by, yesterday.”

Gruffly, the Weapons Master answered, “You’re one to talk – having the entire afternoon off to watch your daughter and I beat the remaining two into submission.”

“I was rather impressed with the manner in which you handled young Nagara Kuranami and her technology fetishes – although take it as a personal piece of advice, when I suggest that the best ways to deal with a stun grenade would not including sitting on it.” Kagora’s eyes twinkled – the closest he would ever get to outright laughter.

“Scoff all you want Kagora – at least the rest of our troupe weren’t too scared to challenge me.”

“How do you mean?” His tone, like his expression, was carefully guarded, though the insistence was there.

“The way the two of you behaved – you and your boy – fighting like territorial lions.” Kinaro spared his fellow Master a cursory glance. “Some hide it better than others, but I warrant that we were all worried that you two would forget that this was just a duel, and rip each other apart.”

“Ranma is very good – I need not reiterate that to you – a ninja of his calibre demands that I fight to the best of my abilities...” He stressed his last phrase, “Whatever they may be.”

“Was worried for a few moments that you were going to go ‘gold’ on me, back then.”

Now Kagora did openly scoff. “You know me better than that – I have never, and will never do that – and for something as relatively banal as a Jusenkyou trial battle...”

Grimly, Kinaro finished off the thought. “Just goes to show that even us Masters may have grown a little complacent in the leisure of our Clan’s long time peace and stability.”

“Cherish it Kinaro, cherish it – the environs tell me that this time of calm is not forever for the Shinkasa.”

The two settled in amicable quiet, resolved to watch the end of the Sun’s rise, and the peace of the moment.

**********

“For heaven’s sake Ranma keep your legs closed!” Meyah pinched her nose in open frustration. Following their day of honour, it had been a more or less ‘back to business’ affair. And currently, business involved the beginning of her son’s crash course in ‘girl etiquette’ – before the group were due to leave for home.

Fortunately for her nerves, his friend Ukyou had agreed to help – although looking at that young lady’s particular choice of dress, perhaps it had not been so advantageous to acquire her assistance.

Her son’s comment brought her back to the present. “What’s the big deal? I’ve always sat like this.” As if to emphasise her impatience, the girl wearily stretched her arms tightly above her head.

And Ukyou positively goggled at the change in geography that occurred on the redhead’s body. “R-ranchan, p-promise me you’ll never do that in public either.”

“And in answer to your question,” Meyah cut in, “it may seem acceptable to you, but the social connotations of sitting like that, especially in a skirt...” She abruptly bit her lip, the realisation of her mistake too late to rectify.

“Skirt?!” Ranma blurted, clearly alarmed. “Since when were ‘skirts’ and ‘me’ in the same sentence?”

Sitting off to the side, Ukyou, not for the first time, wondered if this sputtering, argumentative redhead was really the same person as the severe and solemn pigtailed boy in black that she had grown to know.

*********

“What was that noise?” Daikoto queried curiously, his head turning at the echoing remains of the clamor.

“I imagine that was the sound of our young Ranma being informed of the more basic points of womanhood.” Deceptively nonchalant, Kuranami continued to methodically pack her belongings, ignoring her partner’s noticeable shivering.

“Damn I’m glad I didn’t fall into that pool.”

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Is the possibility of being a female that objectionable to you?”

Danger question. He sensed that a lot more than just the continuance of this conversation hung on his answer. “No – but then how would you feel about falling into the Spring of Drowned young boy?”

“Point taken.” Yet Kuranami’s eyes were smiling in ill-concealed mirth. “Just wait till Master Meyah gets to the part about panties, bras, and female hygiene.”

“NyaAARGhhhHH!!!!!!!!”

********

“Alright, that was essentially an entire morning wasted.” Meyah commented tactfully to her father.

Either unhearing or ignoring of his daughter’s words, Kagora instead replied with, “I think it best if we start the journey as soon as possible.”

“Why?”

“The high school first term has already started, and due to Ranma’s now...unexpected requirements, I think it best that we return swiftly – the less time spent here, the more spent tending to the needs of the newest additions to our little family.” Absentmindedly polishing one of his kodachi, he murmured, “It has been an extremely long time since a Shinkasa ninja was given another human body as his or her alternate form – steps will have to be taken with our network to create a history and record for the new girl.”

“Why cannot we treat Ranma’s alternate as we do with all other alternates?” That being as a hidden commodity – rarely used and even more rarely seen.

Putting away the short sword, Kagora answered curtly. “Believe it or not, but in some ways a human would attract more attention than an animal – whereas people will pass off the sight of say...” he eyed his daughter speculatively, “...a golden falcon, to see a nameless red haired girl popping up hear and there would be sure to generate questions. And besides...”, he looked out towards the mountains thoughtfully, “Ranma may find his female form greatly useful – especially if she has a specific identity.”

“So...he is to invest an equal amount of time in both bodies?”

“Yes, if that suits him.”

Sighing exasperatedly, Meyah’s voice was a near mutter. “That will involve a new wardrobe, new lifestyle, and new headaches. Oh for the simplicity of a simple animal curse.”

Returning to his original topic, Kagora promptly queried, “So, can we be ready to make our leave, say, tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, in fact.” The Sword Master sniffed indifferently. “All of us are more or less packed and fit for travel – I take it the others just took it for granted that our departure would be soon, following the initiation of all.”

“Well then, we leave for the foothills tomorrow morn – although without better preparation the journey to our airstrip will have to be made entirely on foot.”

“If you want...” Meyah paused, as if in consideration. “If you want I can...fly on ahead. If I leave tonight I can make it to the field and commandeer some vehicular transportation in ample time to meet you when you reach the beginning of the roads.”

Making quick mental calculations, he voiced aloud his thoughts. “One – one and a half day’s decent – and it’ll take the trucks half a day to get to the meeting point.” He looked over his daughter quizzically. “Can you make the entire journey in less than twenty four hours?”

“Is that a serious question?” Meyah responded evenly. “Loremaster Rishoto once clocked the speed of my falcon form while you were away.” She didn’t bother mentioning that they had done so to evade Kagora’s strict ‘no transformations while in Yamakaro territory’ policy. “I can comfortably maintain a hundred kilometres per hour speed for several hours.”

“Have a hearty dinner, and do so then.” Kagora gestured offhandedly. “I’ll have...I don’t know...Kinaro and Iyarasora carry your baggage.”

“I am sure they will be thrilled to hear that.”

*********

Although they had slept in separate rooms, the chef and her best friend ended up packing their belongings together – mostly because a fair amount of Ukyou’s indoor clothing had been borrowed from the pigtailed ninja.

Sitting back for a moment, the chef looked over across the room to her companion. “Whatcha got there, sugar?”

Caught unawares, Ranma self-consciously cleared his throat. “Heh, nothing really.” He quickly dropped the bundle to the floor.

Curiosity piqued, she closed the distance between them on hands and knees, long, unbound hair draping over her form like a chestnut curtain. The red silken cloth immediately caught her attention, tied neatly at the top to form a package of sorts. Raising her head to stare him in the eyes, she queried expectantly, “Well?”

And why was he blushing like that?

Forcing his gaze away, the boy ninja instead moved to the more material task of untying the bundle. “It’s just a bunch of stuff I’ve picked up over the years.” Spreading the cloth, he let the motley assortment of mementos tumble free. “As you can see, nothing much.”

“Hey, my spatula.” She gleefully picked up the name-engraved utensil, quietly recalling the previous time she’d seen this particular item.

The symbol of our friendship, and how he truly recognised me after all these years.

Almost reluctantly returning the mini-spatula, the chef instead retrieved another article – and oddly twisted husk. “How about this?”

“A chestnut shell.” Ranma replied simply. Reading her mystified expression, he added, “Kachuu Tenshin Amaguriken – my first.”

“Oh.”

The pigtailed boy offhandedly commented, “Told you, it’s nothing special.” But as he moved to gather the items, a gentle hand overlaid his, forestalling his actions for a moment.

“Later on, you’re gonna tell me about every piece, okay honey?”

Smiling appreciatively, though he himself could not tell why, Ranma merely nodded. Glancing at his belongings, he turned back to the chef. “Hey Ucchan, I’m still missing like two or three of my black silk shirts.”

Catching his gaze once more, the chef girl pouted cutely, batting her eyelashes, and innocently fingering her long chestnut hair. “But Ranchan, I like them.”

Turning away from the playful girl, he managed to hide his very faint blush, further disguised by his gruff, “Fine then, keep ‘em.”

“Thanks honey.”

“I’m sure.”

In the long quiet that resumed, the pair continued to methodically organise their gear – occasionally passing stray items across.

“Say Ranchan...”

“Hmm...?” His eyes narrowed distractedly – mouth gripping the end of a loose piece of string.

“Lano tells me, when we get back, you’ll get to choose where you’ll live for the remainder of your high school years – sorta like a holiday from Clan life.”

“Yeah,” he answered non-committedly. “It’s supposed to reacquaint us with normal Japanese life, plus catch up with education, people your own age, socialising – normal stuff.”

“Ha! Not bloody likely.”

Both realising at the same time that the last comment had come from neither of them, the kneeling pair turned simultaneously to see Lano leaning casually against the doorframe. Seeing that he had their attention, he clarified himself. “After all this time we’ve known each other, I just can’t imagine you in a normal...context.”

“Hey, I can too be normal.”

The Korean almost absently sent his drinking cup of water flying.

“Shaddup, Lano.” The soaked girl growled menacingly.

Unable to contain herself, the okonomiyaki chef burst out laughing, an arm snaking out to grab the fuming redhead for support.

“I...I’m *hah* s-s..sorry...” she raggedly cried out between hurriedly gulped breaths – her attempts to suppress it not aided by the petite girl’s agonizingly cute frown – disapprovingly crossed arms only serving to make her look petulant.

“Keep going.” Ranma muttered, trying to retain a shred of dignity through dripping wet bangs.

In time, her humour was brought under control, broken only by a few unguarded hiccups. In a vain attempt to salve her best friend’s bruised pride, Ukyou returned to her original topic. “I was going to ask if you had any plans...you know, for where you want to go.”

Instead, it was Lano who answered first. “I’ve already talked to Master Kinaro – I’ll be heading back North up to my homelands for a while.” He sighed wistfully, handing over a glass of hot water that just happened to be sitting in his other hand. “I haven’t been back to Korea since, well since the accident.”

“You’re going...overseas?” the now male Ranma blinked, startled. The two had never been apart for more than a few days, and now he was going... “Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

Lano shrugged. “I only just thought of it yesterday – sort of a duty bound tribute to my homeland.” He grinned modestly. “Anyhow’s, where were you thinking of going?”

“I...I don’t know.” At that was the truth – he’d been so geared up just for the Jusenkyou trials, that any consideration of an ‘afterwards’ had been put long on hold. And now...

Now suddenly, everyone had plans.

Feeling an unexpected pang of loneliness from nearby, Ukyou hastily cut in. “If you didn’t have any plans, I was wondering...” all of a sudden feeling rather shy, she tentatively continued, “...I have an unoccupied place in the Nerima Ward of Tokyo, and you know...” Rapidly, her fingernails were growing remarkably fascinating.

“Ho ho,” the Weapons ninja chortled. “The plot thickens – the bashful maiden invites her best ‘boy’ friend to stay at her place.”

“It’s not like that.” The brown haired girl protested, her face flushing like a tomato.

Lano nodded sagely. “Methinks she doth protest too much.”

“Methinks a certain person in this room, not mentioning any names, Iyarasora Lano, should make his exit before he gets trisected.” Ranma stated dryly.

Smirking despite the threat, Lano nonetheless made good on his departure.

“I s-swear that’s not what I meant.”

“Of course.” Smiling uncertainly, Ranma nervously scratched at the back of his pigtail. “Is the offer still there?”

She gazed at him hesitantly. “Yes, I guess. That is...” she finished off in a rush, “...if you have nowhere better to go...that is.” The chef couldn’t help thinking, though, that there was something rather important she had to mention.

“No, I can’t say I have.” He couldn’t seem to leave the back of his head alone. “Well, yes, I guess...and thanks.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. “Err...Great!”

More uneasy silence.

Needing to say something, anything, to break the awkwardness, Ranma shakily gestured to their remaining belongings. “Pack.”

“R-right.”

No more was said, as the pair finished off the task.

 

***********

***********

 

Day 5.

Morning once more, and time to tally the good with the bad. Unfortunately, for one prominently fanged and muscled youth, he had all too soon run out of fingers to count the latter. Despite the positive aspects of the new day, such as his recent, ahem*, acquirement of  a tent, bedroll and useful camping gear – there was a single item which, in his view cancelled them entirely, and more.

Hibiki Ryouga was still lost – but what made this aimlessness even more disastrous was the current location.

An airport.

Hibiki Ryouga was lost, in an airport.

It wracked him with fearful shivers just to imagine where his next fateful step could take him – for this was truly the first time in the young man’s short life, that his involuntary tourist travels showed the possibility of leaving Japan entirely.

But the martial arts fighter was by no means stupid – well aware of the risks, he had quite wisely (in his opinion at least) decided to stay put, in the hope that eventually somebody could be found to lead him out of this mess. And at the time of its formulation, the plan had seemed altogether quite secure – but now after the fifth hour or so, including the time spent sleeping at the very same spot, the various airport security guards were giving the dirty, and admittedly somewhat suspicious looking youth, equally suspicious and dirty looks.

Realising that time was more or less up, and resolved to do something more decisive, be it for the better or worse, Ryouga took a deep, cleansing breath, and took a resolute, and very random step towards whatever fate the Gods had instilled for him this early Spring’s morn.

And not five minutes later...

“Would all passengers please pay attention to the stewards in your section as we begin the safety instruction procedures...”

Not bothering to waste brainpower trying to figure out just how he had managed to bypass the entry point without a ticket, or even failed to notice walking down the long boarding corridor – Ryouga instead focused on the massive willpower involved in trying not to cry at his misfortune.

This just had to be somebody’s fault – although he had no idea who.

*********

The same morning – but from a different place, and taken with a markedly different attitude. The last Bayankala morning, experienced from the Amazon village of the Joketsuzoku.

For Ranma at least.

As if in recognition of that fact, the pigtailed ninja – still male – took a heartily deep breath, savouring the cool crispness of the mountain climate, and trying to ingrain its unique atmosphere into his memory. Looking about, he let his cat sharp eyes delicately trace the rugged ridges of the valley walls, topped by the white peaks of the mountain ranges.

And so ends a chapter in the life of Saotome Ranma.

“Feeling philosophical?”

He didn’t need even need to hear the voice to tell who it was. “Why do you suppose that, Lano?”

“You have that – ‘oh the mysteries of the world’ look on your face.” Raising his hand to halt any retort, he resumed. “Save the arguments for later – Shampoo wants to meet you in private before we leave, and...” he offered the lascivious grin that had drawn in many an Amazon girl, “...we all know it’s rude to keep a girl waiting.”

Not willing to take up the Korean on his insinuations, the Anything Goes ninja instead headed off in the indicated direction.

**********

Shampoo was waiting patiently, her back to the door, when he entered. “Shampoo no know no right words to say now.”

It took him a long moment to interpret her remark, and before he could respond, she had already turned to face him. “Is been nearly year, Shampoo keep promise made on second day to be just friend for Airen – and now Airen is leaving Shampoo.”

“I...” he trailed off, somehow feeling a little ashamed.

She continued, as if deaf to his meek reply. “Shampoo wonder maybe if she had tried harder – push Ranma more, maybe he stay with her forever.”

“I can’t...I’m sorry.”

“Shampoo promise Airen she take whatever he give, and no ask for much more – but Airen no give what Shampoo want.”

“Shampoo please...”

The purple-haired girl walked to him, unknowingly graceful even in the simple movement. Sliding her hands around to the back of his neck, she forced his eyes to meet hers. “And now, Airen is leaving Shampoo.”

He drew in a shuddering, heavy breath, but her piercing crimson eyes refused to let him escape. “It feel good to Shampoo to know, at least Ranma no go for other girl in village – that he no choose other girl over Shampoo.” And softly, so very unlike her usual enthusiastic embraces, the exotic Amazon warrior simply leaned against her beloved, allowing her draping arms to take in his warmth, while she gave hers.

“Shampoo wait for a year, and now she say at end of it...” the last came out as a mere whisper, that only his sensitive hearing could detect.

“Wo. Ai. Ni.”

And for the life of him, he could not say anything in return, not the words that she may have wanted from him, nor those in objection of it. Sighing forlornly, he merely allowed his arms to wrap around her slender waist.

“Is only second time Airen hug Shampoo back,” she whispered. Taking a deep breath, she broke their embrace, stepping back and reaching into her thick hair.

Still dazed by their contact, it was a while before Ranma registered what she had placed into his open hand.

An odango – one of the ball-like ties that held her elaborate hairstyle. Raising his eyes to her head, he saw the left tress of purple hair in front of her ear, now unbound and hanging in a pleasingly asymmetrical curve around her pretty face.

“Shampoo give this to you – so you no forget her, and...and also give you this...”

He caught her seductively hungry smile a little too late for a credible defence. Grabbing his pigtail, she pulled his head back down, and...

...and gave him the wettest, hottest kiss ever experienced in his short life. Artfully curling her tongue around his, the voluptuous Amazon took a distractedly shaking hand in her own, and delicately cupped it to her ample bosom.

Both cursing and revelling in his ultra-senses, Ranma instinctively found himself leaning into both his hand, and the kiss, delighting in the feel of her shivering murmur. Eyes closed, he never saw hers open and give him a cruelly torturous gaze.

All at once, the lavender haired girl pushed her beloved off, with enough force to send him stumbling for balance. “If Ranma stayed with Shampoo, he would have got lot more.” She slowly ran her tongue over moist lips, leaving him in no doubt as to what the definition of ‘more’ included.

Another push. “Ranma go now – everyone waiting for him.”

Confused, anxious, and not a little aroused, Ranma staggered clumsily to the door.

“Ranma?”

Risking it, he slowly turned to face her one last time.

Shampoo blew him a kiss.  “Suffer.”

Gulping, and filled with a desperate need to just get out of here, the pigtailed boy weakly waved, and took off.

*********

“What the hell happened to you?” Ukyou stared at the dishevelled form of her best friend, hair all mussed up, and shirt hanging awry.

“Nothing...absolutely nothing.” Ranma answered hastily, much too quickly for the comfort of the present party. Though he suspected from the sly, knowing smirk Lano was giving him, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. “Just, err...reminded, about what I’ve missed.”

Unable to fully comprehend her friend’s words, she merely shook her head, and moved on.

“So, sonny boy – it looks like you slipped through my fingers.” Unusually, Cologne saw her student eye-to-eye, perched on her ever-present cane. “I so would have loved to steal you from Kagora-chan, and make you my heir, but I guess we will have to leave that to a later date.”

Noting her ‘prized-meat’ speculative stare, and not liking it one bit, the pigtailed ninja chose the more tactful response of bowing deeply. “I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality, and education.”

“You could thank me – by becoming my heir.” Despite her precarious perch, she somehow managed to lean forwards. “I haven’t given up on you yet, sonny boy.” A terrible, blackboard scraping, bird-killing cackle followed her pronouncement.

For once, even Shinkasa Kagora appeared a trifle disturbed. “Yes, well, after all the effort Master Meyah is putting into our journey, it would not do to be tardy.”

“Yes yes Kagora, get going, and until next time...”

“Fare thee well, Elder Khu Lon.”

And that, apparently, was that.

 

**********

**********

 

Some distance away, though not very far, by modern standards, another group of people were out to test the morning mountain air.

Crown Prince Herb – ruler apparent of the Musk Dynasty, surveyed his domain from the lofty heights of the Royal observatory.

“The winter hit us hard, my lord – we have less than...” Field General Cayenne halted as his prince raised a commanding hand.

“We missed this Spring deadline – nothing can be done about that.” Feeling a frustration that he would never outwardly reveal to his subjects, Herb turned away from the large open air balcony. “There is no choice but to survive another year – and be sure that we are ready come the end of next Winter.” Abruptly, he levelled a fierce glare at his subordinate. “Will you be able to ensure me a working force by then?”

Though he had considerable doubts, Cayenne did not dare voice them. “Yes, your highness, come next year we will be ready.”

“There is no ‘if’ about this, General. If we are not – then we are but one step closer to extinction.” Slamming his fist against the wall, and easily smashing through two feet of ancient granite, Herb roared viciously, “The Musk Dynasty shall not fall under the rule of Prince Herb.”

“N-no your highness.” Despite his rattling nerves, the General offered the his attempt at a crisp salute.

“A year then.”

“A year.”

 

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

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

Authors notes.

Okay NOW it’s finished. Hope you enjoyed the chapter – cause I certainly tore out my guts getting it down and posted. I’m not sure if it’s rising standards that I set for my work, but there was a great amount of dissatisfaction involved in writing this chapter, as well as numerous restarts from scratch, and revisions. In the end however, no matter how I feel about it, it’s still the readers’ opinions that count in the end. So if you thought it was sub-‘Jason Wong’ standard then drop me an email to voice your complaints.

The last thing I want is to live in false complacency. Of course if you thought it was on par, an email would still be nice ^_^  . In any case I hope I don’t take so long for the next release, which will be Fate of Love Chapter 2.

Oh, and if you were curious about the translations to the Japanese terms used in this chapter, I can send out a list – I refrained from putting a glossary at the end of this work, since it’s not entirely necessary to know their meanings.

Email me at dojohouse@optushome.com.au

Or check out my other works at http://members.optushome.com.au/dojohouse/

 

Until next time............