Disclaimer: I do not own anything. I'd like to compliment the second
OAV crewmembers on their work, for one nice piece of fried crap. I
hope all the DVDs and tapes spontaneously combust. Followed by a chant
of joy by the creator of the esteemed anime itself. I refuse to accept
its continuity within this fic, and in the series itself. Get over it,
or please leave.

Ranma Saotome was coming!

Soun Tendo was overjoyed at the fact that his old training partner's
heir was finally coming, and the first and most likely only promise
Genma had ever made in seriousness would be fulfilled. The Tendo
School of Anything- Goes and the Saotome School of Anything-Goes would
finally be united, and Anything-Goes would be at its peak, a pinnacle
of perfection. He had put aside his grief and allowed Akane to study
every aspect of the Art she could find. Though he himself had taught
her as much of the Ryu as he could, she was simply too slow, too quick
to anger, to become a practitioner of the true secrets of his legacy.

Ranma Saotome was coming.

. . . Ranma AND Genma Saotome were coming.

Genma Saotome was a louse.

A relatively friendly louse, but a louse nonetheless. He was sneaky,
underhanded, idiotic, and quite possibly one of the most powerful
martial artists in the world. As he had developed the style that
allowed himself to imbue his own emotional ki into his blows that he
dubbed the Imbuer Techniques, Genma had developed the Umisenken and
Yamasenken. The 'Way of the Quiet Thief' and the 'Way of the Noisy
Thief', the master had trained Genma truest to the style of Anything-
Goes, leaving himself to train in solitude. The techniques he
developed only in secret had shown his own potential as a true Master.
Over the years, they had grown to be the best of friends, a good chunk
of that friendship being what brought them to meet in the first place.
The Art.

Stepping out of the reminiscing state he'd placed himself in, he
walked to the door to the rather large ki presence that was on his
front step. "Hello?"

He looked mildly surprised to see someone answer the door before he
knocked, but he looked at the older man with a look of relief. "Soun
Tendo?" His face betrayed his hopefulness; it was painfully obvious
this guest was searching for him.

"I am he, and who might you be?"

The guest stood proudly for one so young, perhaps five foot five, with
deep and piercing blue eyes. His leanly muscled form seemed to flow
with an unspoken grace, his long legs coiled as a taut spring. A quiet
grace seemed to flow within him, and he couldn't help but feel a small
amount of comfort in seeing the youth. His jet-black hair was set in a
braid down just an inch past his shoulders, an almost silken quality
about it. He was dressed in a red shirt, probably Chinese from the
looks of it. A white belt made of silk was wrapped around his waist,
on top of his shirt. His black pants were tied at the ankles, an
interesting look that seemed to fit him perfectly. He wore long white
bracers around his arms, and in his hand was a staff, about four feet
tall. It was rather smooth for what seemed to be more of a walking
stick, with the traditional design seen upon a saya. Ranma bowed
lightly, "Hello, Mister Tendo. My name is Ranma Saotome. . . of the
Saotome Anything-Goes Style. . ."

"RANMA!" Soun moved to hug him tightly, tears running down his eyes.
"I am so glad to see you here, all will be well!"

He jumped back in surprise, holding the staff like a kendoka. Poised
off of one foot, his staff held in one hand with the other in a stance
ready to block or twist punch. It showed great defense and offensive
capability, and scared the very few wits within the Tendo patriarch
right out of him.

"WAAAAAAH!" Soun turned white as a ghost, fainting dead away.

A young girl, about his age, ran forward. "Dad! Dad, what happened?"
She growled at Ranma, classifying him as an assailant and pervert.
"What did you do to him?"

"Your dad fainted when he. . ." He shuddered and glared at her.
"Nevermind that, what tha hell do YOU want with me?" He kept his
stance, slowly regretting ever listening to the letter in his oyaji's
pack.

"I want you to dry up and die! KIYAH!" Akane Tendo, sole active
practitioner of the Tendo Anything-Goes Ryu, 'strongest' martial
artist in Nerima and unofficial pervert-smasher, charged as fast as
she could towards him.

Ranma reacted instantly, leaping above the offending tomboy. She
looked up and gasped, disbelief etched upon her face. The moment of
surprise was all he needed as he descended as he moved towards her, in
midair no less, and struck the back of her neck with his staff. "RYU
TSUI SEN!" The blow made a rather interesting THWACK against her
flesh, as Ranma landed on one hand and knee to recover from the ki
used within the blow. "That attack. . . it takes alot outta ya. . ."
He grimaced and pulled himself up with his staff, breathing
haphazardly.

Akane wasn't faring much better for the attack, it was one of the few
times she had really been hurt. She vaguely recognized the ki usage,
but she wasn't particularly concerned with that as much as the
physical and prideful pain. She was Akane Tendo! Nobody could defeat
her! And this pervert had dared tried to knock her and her father out!
Her battle aura, thin though it was, appeared as she charged once
more. She deliberately telegraphed a straight punch, pulling it back
at the last second to jump just a few feet in the air and kick off of
Ranma.

He held out his staff with one hand on the top and bottom each,
catching her foot on the hard wood and pushing her off of the staff.
She actually recovered rather well, crouching before attacking once
more. This time, he put his staff in a holster on his backpack, taking
a stance not dissimilar to her original one. Turned so his side was
facing her, his right arm crossed over his chest, fist placed next to
the elbow of his left arm, poised to switch sides almost immediately.
"So, you think your pop can steal my school? MY LIFE?" He jumped
towards her, appearing to be floating a few inches in the air. He
kicked out towards her, catching Akane in the gut before effectively
pinning her arms, his feet catching her legs so they couldn't move
either.

"What do you mean, steal your school?" She spat at him; outraged this
pervert would pin her down and call her a thief, cheating by jumping
so high in the air. He probably used springs on his feet. . .

"The Anything-Goes Ryu is my LIFE! You think your father can teach you
a few tenants of it so you can slander the name of my style? I am the
only user of Anything-Goes, and I ain't taught nobody how to do any of
it in my life. How the heck do you justify stealing my LIFE?" The
sheer rage on his face was evident, out of place, but evident. It
scared Akane to her core, but she shook it off and glared. "My
father's trained me in the Anything- Goes since I was ten years old!
The only other family that practices hasn't been seen in eleven years,
you idiot!" He stood up, his foot on her stomach to keep her pinned
down. "I am Ranma Saotome, Grandmaster of the Saotome Musabetsu Kakuto
Ryu and sole practitioner of the Saotome Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. You may
be good, but you ain't nowhere near my level. I am here to speak to
Soun Tendo about school business, and if the idiot fainted it's not my
fault. So do me a favor and just leave me alone so I can be miserable
in peace!" He unsheathed his staff, bringing it down to her face in a
swift strike. She had just enough time to close her eyes before. . .

Nothing?

She looked up unharmed, and this. . . Ranma, as well as her father,
were gone. "KASUMI! NABIKI!"

Ranma was leaping, grumbling as he leapt off with Soun Tendo. He could
feel his opponent's mind, her anger and underlying sadness from. . .
loss? Ranma shook his head. No sense in trying to explain empathy
today, it just wasn't worth it. He slowly began to construct a mental
shield, his instincts guiding his progress towards a vacant lot as he
blocked the youngest Tendo girl's mind and emotions from himself.

He set down the target of his wanderings, and pulled out some smelling
salts from his father's sparse herbal kit. The old idiot did know some
things about medicine, after all the injuries he'd suffered. . .

He shook his head clear of thoughts of his father, and waved them
under Soun's nose. He awoke with a start. "Good Gods, what is that. .
. you!" He somersaulted backward, a low crouching stance, known as the
Battered Tiger.

"Please, Mister Tendo, I'm not here to hurt you. I swear. I have news
of my father, Genma Saotome."

"Speak your piece, boy." He may be something of an old man now, but
years of ingrained discipline and power were not to be taken lightly.

"He wrote to me, in his final will, that I was to come here to fulfill
a pledge of the Anything-Goes school. I want to know why you stole my
pops' school, and what this pledge is about!"

Confusion was clear among the mustachioed face of Soun Tendo. "Your
father and I trained together to develop and perfect this school. . .
I stole nothing from him, nor him from me."

Ranma may not have been the sharpest blade on the rack, or even the
sharpest blade of grass, but he was pretty good at knowing when he was
being fooled. It came with the. . . territory. "I believe you. . . and
I. . . apologize. For startling you. Will you please tell me what this
whole pledge is about?"

Soun sat in the lotus position, looking as calmly as the neurotic man
ever did. "The pledge between our two families was to continue the
Anything-Goes school was one made before even my eldest daughter was
born. Our legacy and Art were at their peak then, and while they were
powerful, there was no way we knew of to improve upon them. As we
thought of this in a local tavern, my best friend Genma asked me why
we kept our schools separate. His chaos and unpredictability in midair
combat was astounding to even the most powerful masters of the art,
and the defense, Jiu Jitsu, and ground combat skills of my own school
were formidable at least. With this, we wrote a pledge of our family's
honor. . . for as soon as we had children of the opposite gender, to
have them wed, so our schools would become whole and complete. The
Shin Anything-Goes."

Ranma was shocked at this, and looked to the ground. He'd been hoping
it was a challenge, some battle in which to perfect his skills, old
and newfound. But no. . . he was trapped in a pledge made by his
father, betrothed to some girl that tried just now to beat the living
crap out of him. If he didn't believe in respect for the dead. . .

"It is a matter of family honor that our two families be united. . .
Genma assuredly has told you of this, hasn't he?"

A pained look crossed his face, and he looked to him. "Mister Tendo,
my father. . . will not be joining us on this plane of life again. He
died in the Cursed Springs of Jusenkyo, in a training accident."

Soun looked down in sorrow, trying to regulate his emotions for the
sake of the school and the pledge that was so important to him, the
only thing that kept his old body going, save his wonderful girls.
"Please. . . tell me. . . how it happened."

"It started when we were in China, traveling to Jusenkyo to train. "

"Come on boy, we're almost there!" Ranma looked to the middle aged man
in front of him, by only a sparse few feet. He wasn't a skinny man,
but he wasn't exactly obese. His bald head was covered by a bandana,
spectacles framing his stern looking face. His dogi was a dirty white,
though it was hard to tell from the traveling vest he wore around it.

"Allright pops, I'm goin'!" Ranma, on the other hand, made sure to run
with blindingly fast use of his legs. He almost leapt with each step,
covering a yard with each stride. He was able to go with nigh full
speed, but preserved a great deal of his strength. At least, that was
his theory.

"Honored sirs?" A portly little Mandarin man looked up to see two
approaching martial artists.

Genma stopped in front of him and gave a shifty smile. "Would you
happen to know where the Springs of Jusenkyo are?"

"Oh, I is guide to Jusenkyo, I take you dere, yes?"

"We'd like that, yes."

"Right dis way, sirs." The Jusenkyo guide began to walk. "Is only few
miles to Springs. . ."

"No problem, right pops? Unless you're gettin' feeble in your old age.
. ."

"We'll see about that, boy!" Genma smirked and sped up as quickly as
he could, racing against his insolent son. He crouched low and sped
forward, mindless of the heavy pack containing all their worldly
possessions atop his rather broad (Albeit chubby) shoulders.

Ranma glared and pushed everything he did into his gliding stride, his
speed a true blur to all save Genma.

The cursed guide of Jusenkyo sighed and muttered. "No one ever listen
to me. What I do to them?" He sighed once more as the raw magic of the
springs transported him in front of where the customers would be. He
really hated this job. . . He truly pitied them more then he, however;
they were about to be very, very. . . different.

The Saotome no Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu heir and grandmaster looked upon
the vast grounds of the springs.

"This don't look so bad, pop."

"Allright then boy, follow me!" Genma threw off his pack and leapt
into a crane stance, balanced on one foot atop one of the hundred
poles that covered the springs.

Ranma followed in an instant, poised in identical fighting stance to
his father and sensei. He gritted his teeth, preparing himself to
fight.

"I won't go easy on ya boy!"

"That's just the way I like it!" In an instant, they leapt towards
eachother. A flurry of punches and kicks were traded, the final blow
struck by Genma. As Ranma was kicked into a pool below, the guide
resisted the urge to scream. 'Honored sirs nothing, they is honored
idiots. Why nobody ever ask about the springs?' He thought to himself.

Ranma jumped out, his speed quickened moreso even then before. In a
spiraling punch, he took Genma by surprise off the pole and into a
spring behind a chain fence.

"And that's how he died. . . he drowned in that spring, disappearing
before we could recover the body. I read a letter in his backpack,
telling me to traverse here, to see you."

"You must fulfill the pledge, son. For the honor of our families, and
the sake of our schools."

"I do not only practice the Anything-Goes Ryu, Mister Tendo. I use a
specialized style of Kenjitsu as well, coupled with the teachings of
my father. . . a school in which I am the grandmaster of, as I was my
father's heir."

"It doesn't matter, son. . . I'm sure we can overlook any problems, as
long as the pledge is fulfilled."

"Tell me about your daughters then, sir. I need to know before I get
engaged to anyone who likes hittin' people for pleasure, for instance.
. ."

"I have three beautiful daughters. My eldest is Kasumi, who is very
dear to me. She is an amazing cook, and a dutiful girl with the sun's
smile. She's nineteen, so she may not wish the engagement right away."

He nodded lightly. "Continue."

"My middle daughter's name is Nabiki, who is seventeen. She's as smart
as anyone you'll ever meet, a real head for business and numbers.
She's a little isolated, but she's truly a very nice girl."

"And of course, my youngest, Akane. She is a martial artist as well,
very sweet. She has extreme determination and will, with a face just
like her dear departed mother. . ." His eyes closed at this, and he
sighed. "She's a little on the violent side. If you cross her, she has
a very hard time forgiving you."

Ranma thought it over, his eyes glazing over slightly as he moved into
a meditative trance. His mind extended to touch and feel the youngest
daughter, and he looked. . . into her mind's eye.

*FLASH* A little girl playing in the park.

*FLASH* That same little girl going through a kata over and over,
attempting to master it.

*FLASH* The girl was older now, a man touches her, and she lashes out,
sending him flying.

*FLASH* A wall, men clambering to push through it.

*FLASH* A picture of a woman, held close to her.

Ranma opened his eyes in a flash, wincing. "Mister Tendo, I realise I
must fulfill the pledge. However, I am also rather sure if I do so, I
would want to be with the one who is happiest in the agreement. . .
mutually so, I am sure. Would it be allright if stayed with you, and
waited to decide on the course of the engagement?"

Soun looked to him, suitably impressed. He seemed to have everything
covered. . . and the pledge would finally be fulfilled. At least one
of his daughters would be happy again. . . "Of course, son. Welcome to
the family." He smiled at him, standing up. "Come, Ranma. . . we
should go now. My daughters should meet their new brother-in-law." He
laughed a little before asking, "Ranma, tell me, what are you like?"

"I'm a martial artist, best there is. The Anything-Goes is my
specialty, but I also practice the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. I only started
a little ways back, but it's done wonders for my speed. I don't do
much besides martial arts, and perfecting my skills in the two styles
and skills related to them takes up a great deal of my time. I keep to
myself alot, and I ain't a big fan of bein' ordered around. You got
somethin' you want me to do, you can just ask me and I'll try and
accommodate you if I can. That's not such a big deal, is it?" He
smirked a bit and absently began some katas as he walked, the motions
seeming accidental. He kept eye contact with the Grandmaster of his
sister school, concentrating on his current situation as well as the
Grand Ultimate Fist katas he had seen.

Soun blinked. He was certainly an independent young man, wasn't he? Ah
well, it wasn't a big deal. "No, I suppose it isn't."

They had arrived at the Tendo Training Hall. Ranma looked to the old
building, kept in pristine condition by someone who had obviously
known what they were doing. "Nice place. . . I ain't seen many
like'em."

"Thank you." Soun found himself confused once more, something that
seemed to be happening a lot around this boy. It was odd; Ranma's
voice seemed to have two different 'modes'. One used slang and
atrocious grammar, and the other was one of the smoothest talkers he
had ever seen. He had not missed the meditative trance he had put
himself in, but he had no idea whether that had anything to do with
the sudden change in voice and attitude. It was beginning to give him
a headache.

"Well Ranma, shall we enter?"

He nodded in reply, absently twirling his staff like a baton. It moved
at a blinding speed, even in the youth's apparent lack of attention.
Soun chuckled lightly. 'I am most impressed with my old, departed
friend's teachings. . .' He sombered up rather quickly at the thought
of his old friend.

They walked inside, and Soun shouted, "Girls, I'm home!" He walked to
the kitchen and put on a smile at his three daughters. "Girls, this is
Ranma Saotome, of the Saotome Anything-Goes Style, as well as the
Saotome Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu." Ranma smiled and looked to the three
girls. The one farthest to his right sat on the floor, her azure hair
flowing freely halfway down her shoulder blades. She looked to be
about his age, with a rather cute form hidden under a dogi that spoke
of her Art. The fiery look on her face that seemed rather natural. On
the farthest left was a woman that looked to be about nineteen; in a
plain housedress that one would think would hide her figure. In truth,
it accentuated her innocent beauty and calm presence. Her long, brown
hair wrapped around the front of her neck, she seemed to balance to
her sister's fiery persona with her soft aura. And finally, in the
middle, was a girl a year older then him. Wearing a formal kimono, she
seemed to be looking rather appraisingly at his form. In return, he
took an eyeful of hers. She wasn't cute, nor was she pretty, at least
by his definition. If he were to be truthful, he would have to say she
was sexy. An interesting smirk on her face, just slightly narrowed
eyes, her face framed with a pageboy haircut, she looked to be very
calculating, though a lot happier then normal. He could tell these
things. All in all, they seemed to be rather attractive.

Soun smiled widely and pointed first to the youngest, "This is Akane,
my youngest, she's sixteen." She promptly glared, as if she could hurt
him by doing so. He then pointed the to the far left, "My eldest,
Kasumi, she's nineteen." She smiled a familiar smile at him, the
peaceful serenity she held within it comforting and warm. "Nabiki, my
middle daughter, she's seventeen." She smiled lightly, neither of joy
nor serenity, but of a form of acceptance, and if he didn't miss his
guess, hope of something besides the old pledge. "Pick one of them,
they'll be your new fiancée."

"I'm. . . Ranma Saotome. Sorry 'bout this." He gave an almost
obligatory look to the floor, an almost embarrassed look on his face.
"FIANCEE? Over my dead body! He attacked me!" Akane looked up and
glared daggers towards him.

"I wish you wouldn't do that. It really gives me a headache. And you
attacked me first, dimwit." He bopped her on the head with his staff.
"One of the tenants of our school is to use challenges very seriously.
If you wanted to fight me to defend your father, it is your duty to
challenge me, and for my consent. I also practice the Anything-Goes,
so I would have accepted, of course. However, you didn't, and I
treated you suitably. You don't attack the best there ever was. Not
without some seriously good reason, and proof behind it, especially
not as badly as you did, tomboy."

She picked up a stone lantern and smashed his head in.

He rather complaisantly fell unconscious, his staff clenched tight,
but otherwise unmarked.

"Akane!" Kasumi's voice got as close as it ever did to yelling, a mild
reprove in her voice. She looked to the ground in shame at her elder
sister's scolding. "Help me move Ranma to the old guest room, I'll
check him over to see if he's all right."

"Okay Kasumi. . ." She helped hoisted him over her shoulder, not very
gently, either. Walking up the stairs, she began to honestly feel bad
for hitting him. 'He was just defending himself. . . and he's right,
those are important rules of our Budo. I shouldn't have hit him. . .
I'll apologize when he wakes up, I guess. . .' She muttered to herself
about stupid boys, not noticing once that she didn't associate him as
a pervert anymore.

Ranma awoke to the surprised face of Kasumi. "Ranma?"

"Uhhhh. . . what killed me?" He groaned and sat up, looking to the
eldest Tendo daughter. "Usually cute girls don't take care a me. . ."

She blushed lightly and took the compliment as the result of the blow
to the head. "Ranma, we have a guest here. . . his name is Tofu Ono,
and he has. . . some questions for you."

"Sure. . . whatever you say. . ."

A man a little older then Kasumi walked in, his expression stern as he
assessed the situation. He was told Ranma had been a boy, but when
some water was spilled on him, there was a drastic change, and that
his expertise in the medical and magical area was necessary. "Hello,
Ranma. I'm Dr. Tofu."

"Nice ta meetcha. . . yo, Doc, can you get ridda the little tomboys
beatin' my head with stuff?"

He chuckled lightly at that and looked at the base of his skull.
"Fascinating. . . Ranma, have you ever been cursed?"

"Well, yeah. . ."

"Are you a boy or a girl?"

"I'M A GUY!"

"In that case, I highly recommend you explain to me how you were
cursed, because right now, you're nothing of the sort."

Ranma looked to his body, or rather, hers. She had shortened quite a
bit, the chest she had as a boy less muscled and much more filled out.
The black hair that had once adorned her head was now a bright red,
and his voice had definitely changed to be much higher. Her hands
looked almost delicate, and she imagined she probably looked pretty
cute. Her cursed form had beaten any girl HE ever saw in the chest
department, at least. . .

"Damnit."

He began to explain the training trip, to the cursed grounds of
Jusenkyo.

After he'd finished, Dr. Tofu called out. "Nabiki! Could you bring me
some hot water?"

"Sure thing, Doctor!"

He looked to Ranma's staff for a minute before his eyes widened.
"Ranma, may I see that for a minute?"

"Ya mean my Bo-blade? No problem." She handed it over, curiously
awaiting for whatever discovery the doctor had evidently found.

"This. . . Bo-blade, where'd you find it?" He looked rather dazed,
staring intently at the top of the staff.

"Well. . . you see, a few days after Jusenkyo, just as I was tryin'
some new speed maneuvers in a training manual I found. . ."

Ranma stood in river, running as hard as she could against the
current. She growled at the pure pressure thrown against her, and
tried her best to run faster. After ten excruciatingly long minutes,
she gasped as she reached the waterfall at the end of the river. The
newest student of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu jumped out of the water,
catching her breath from the uphill battle. "Whew. . . I'm making
better time, but this'll be as far as I can go with the physical part
before I find a sakabato, or a katana." She grimaced and sat down. "I
don't want to steal one, but one in any decent fighting shape will
cost me an arm and a leg."

A woman in a traveling cloak walked up to him, a staff in hand, with
beautifully intricate designs of what would normally be on a saya
carved into it. "Excuse me, did I hear you say you're looking for a
sakabato?"

"Yeah, I am. . . why do you ask?"

She took off her hood, revealing her long white hair. A small triangle
tattoo adorned her forehead, and below that was a beautiful, deeply
tanned face. Sly and cunning, or so it appeared, she dripped
sensuality. The rest of her was covered up by the cloak, which a small
part of Ranma's mind was screaming bloody murder for. "Well, I happen
to have a special blade right here." She flipped up the staff in a
loose Kendo stance, smiling. "Problem is, it only works for those who
have the fighting spirit to summon it. . . what do you say, kid?
Interested?"

"What's the price?" Ranma wasn't an idiot; he knew enough that nothing
was free unless you were ready to run from everybody and their
brother, sister, nana, and dog. He learned that the hard way

"I want you to channel your ki into the blade. Make it part of you,
and pull off the saya. If you can do it. . . it's yours."

She looked dubiously at the woman and took the staff in hand.
"Allright. . ." Her body began to remember the Battoujutsu stance,
moving to bend her knees. Half-crouched, she turned to the side as she
held the staff to her left hip. She held the cloth-covered head of the
staff tight, channeling the energy of her body and spirit within to
the blade. Slowly, a crack smooth began to appear a few inches down
from the top. Her teeth grit, and she felt the staff become a part of
her. In no way attached, her spirit could literally feel the wood and
metal intermixed, the energy so potent within it. She shouted to the
wind as she stepped forward on her right leg and pulled on the sword,
withdrawing it from its sheath. "BATTOUJUTSU STRIKE!" A vicious arc of
the reversed blade left an almost visible trail in the air as it was
drawn.

It was a beautiful weapon, with no nicks or cuts in the blade. It was
a sakabato, so the blade was on the opposite side of the normal. The
metal looked to be a silvery-white, a color he'd never seen in any
metal before. He could feel the creator's life energies within the
weapon, energies pulsating with care for the blade, as well as his own
ki, intermixing with the passion of the smith and the power behind
such a weapon. Strong, but impossible to kill with, as a sword should
be. There was an inscription upon the ornate hilt, with the kanji
between the saya symbols. "Bo-blade." She whispered and looked up to
the stranger. "I. . . can keep this?"

"You can. . . you've earned it, kid. Seeya 'round. . . Saotome. . ."
She disappeared into the forest, almost melding into the beauty of the
nature surrounding.

Tofu looked at him, his eyes widened. This blade. . . it held the
symbol of the Three Norn Goddesses. "That's. . . incredible, Ranma.
That woman who gave you the blade. . . did she say anything else?"

"'Fraid not. . . I'd like ta say otherwise, you seem real interested."

He chuckled a little at that. "It's simply my own curiosity getting
the better of me, Ranma. You appear to be in perfect health, and I
hope you have the best of luck in this place. You're destined for a
lot more then you think." He walked out, chuckling to his own unknown
joke.

"Nice guy. . . absolutely nuts, but a nice guy." Ranma laughed to
himself, grinning for the first time in days.

"Oh, Nabiki, could you bring that water up to Ranma?"

"Sure thing, Dr. Tofu. You leaving already?"

"I'm afraid I must get back to the clinic."

She grinned teasingly, "Kasumi would REALLY like you to stay. . ."

The good doctor's glasses immediately fogged up, and he skipped down
the stairs, mumbling to himself about the object of his rather odd
affections.

Shaking her head and smiling to herself, she walked up to the room
Ranma was supposed to be in. "Ranma?" She opened the door, kettle in
hand.

Ranma was sitting there stretching, the omnipresent Bo-blade sheathed
on his back. "Oh, Nabiki, right?"

"Uh, right. . ." She blinked and looked at him. She'd seen the
transformation occur, and probably wouldn't have believed it until she
did. "I've got the hot water for you. . ."

"Oh, thanks alot." She smiled and took it, pouring it on herself
before shifting into her male form. His voice deepened, and his body
completely metamorphed. "Ahhh, that's so much better. . ."

"So, Ranma. . . you're. . . I guess. . . our new fiancée?"

"Yeah. . . I asked your pop to let me pick whoever'd like it best. . .
so nobody got pressured into anything, y'know?"

She nodded a little and looked to the floor, then sat down. "Yeah, I
know what you mean." She felt something in him. . . as if he was a
safe person from life, from much of anything. His body was nice and
all, but she felt. . . drawn to him, like she figured many were. He
seemed to be almost magnetic towards those who needed protection,
though Nabiki couldn't for the life of her figure out why. "You got
any impressions of us yet?"

"That I don't want Akane, if the masochism thing becomes habit
for'er."

Nabiki actually started laughing out loud, falling to the floor.

"Nabiki, are you okay?" It hadn't been that funny. . .

"Oh God. . ." She wiped a tear away. "If Akane heard you say that,
she'd beat the daylights out of you. She's a real pervert-hater, and
she takes nearly everything the wrong way." She giggled a little and
looked up to him. "I can imagine her with a whip, going after a guy
she thought was HITTING on her. . . 'Come back here, pervert! I'll
give you a taste of your own dirty medicine! Now sit still and be
punished!'. Akane, a closet Dom. . ." She tried not to laugh as she
sat up, subconsciously leaning towards him. Seeing as she was about to
fall, he moved so she'd half-rest on his shoulder.

Nabiki's eyebrow rose as she felt the rather well muscled frame of one
Ranma Saotome holding her up. This felt. . . nice. . . "Forward. . . I
like that."

He tensed up and started to babble. "I didn't mean to I mean you were
just gonna fall and you'd ruin that nice kimono you're wearing and so
I moved to catch you and. . ."

Nabiki put a finger to his lips; surprised she'd done it afterwards.
In this house, everybody was an absolute prude. "Don't worry about
it." She moved her finger off his lips, smiling. "I don't have many
boys at school who are interested at me. . . it really got me worked
up when I found out one of us was to be engaged. I thought I'd have a
chance to have a fresh start with somebody."

He nodded a little at this, feeling her mind slowly open up. "I really
know whacha mean. . ."

"I'm not unattractive or anything, but I use my business to earn a lot
of my money at school. Guys seem to be turned off by women who aren't
afraid to run the show and take charge."

"That's dumb. . . if a woman don't take charge, how can she ever get
anything done? I think it's cool when women can do things guys can. .
. I can't do much of anything with finances, 'cept for budget." He
couldn't explain it, but he could feel the link he'd read about with
her. It was slowly but steadily growing. . .

She looked up to him, seeing his expression as completely honest and
straightforward. It was a tad disconcerting. . . "Our family doesn't
make much money anymore, and because of it, my work is necessary to
our family's finances. My nickname is the Furinkan Ice Queen for it."
She found herself opening up to a stranger almost absolutely, his
presence near her making her feel a little better. It was as if he was
magic. . .

"I don't think you're an Ice Queen. . . you seem really open to me.
It's kind of nice, seeing a person who doesn't put up anything to hide
themselves."

"I guess I'm just a lot different at school. I'm so busy earning
money, I never look at much of anything but the profit margin."

"I get that way with my Art. . . it's like nothing else matters. The
flow of the movements, the power and speed you feel when you're doing
it just right, the exhilaration of a fight, the power you feel of even
the soft movements. . . it's all-consuming." Ranma poured his own
emotion into the words, a sub-product of being what he was. Anytime he
talked about things personal to him on a certain level, his own raw
emotion was tempered into the words and felt by the person he was
talking to.

She felt it allright, her breath slowly quickening. It felt right
talking to him, in a way she didn't ever want to describe. . . in a
way she simply couldn't. She looked up at him and cupped his face in
her hand, pulling him closer to. . .

"PERVERT!" Akane Tendo stormed into the room, her trusty mallet at the
ready. "You're trying to force yourself on my sister!" She glared at
him, getting ready to smash his head again.

"I did nothing of the sort." Ranma's voice had become as it was with
Soun, deeper and commanding. He seemed almost as if he was a different
person, his vocabulary and manner of speech different in so many ways.

"LIAR!"

"Then ask her before jumping to conclusions. Or I will defeat you once
more as quickly as possible." He opened his mind to her, feeling the
anger consume her, become her.

"Nabiki, did this PERVERT force himself on you?"

Nabiki shook her head and stood up, her eyes deathly cold and icy. She
looked to Ranma, and before she'd known what she was doing, she kissed
his cheek and left the room.

Ranma's face turn beet red, his demeanor changing absolutely. "I. . .
wha. . ."

Akane was flabbergasted. Her sister, the closet boy-crazy Ice Queen
had kissed a boy, on the CHEEK! He must've done something to her! She
made a move to attack him, but he jumped out the window, disappearing
over the roofs.

He needed to think. He just wanted to help her. . . Ranma knew she was
lonely, and he knew how it felt. He just wanted to make her feel a
little better; that was it. So why did she do that? He didn't
understand why a girl would do that. . . he needed to think, that he
did. He leapt roof to roof, looking for a spot to think, and sleep. .
. he'd return in the morning. Maybe she'll have cooled down by then. .
. and maybe he'd have some idea what to do.

Nabiki went into her room and locked the door, lying down on her bed.
She began a few yoga routines she used to keep her figure, thinking to
herself. 'Why did I do that. . .' She found herself standing up in a
rather familiar position, her icy cool demeanor cracking as it had
around Ranma. 'He pierced through everything. He didn't even outsmart
me, I just HAD to tell him. . .' She gave a swift jab in the air, not
even noticing the style she was using. 'He could tell how I felt. I'm
certain of it. . . up until. . .' Nabiki literally flipped in the air
as she kicked, though the unprecedented maneuver caused her to fall on
her butt in the landing. She knew not of what she had been doing; only
that it was. . . comforting. 'Until I tried to kiss him.' She did a
quick sweep before sitting in the lotus position, murmuring. "Why did
I try to kiss him. . . he's no different than anyone else. So he's a
martial artist, so he changes genders. . . so what? He'd still. . .
he'd still. . .' She shook her head as a feeling left her, the icy
indifferent exterior remaining once more on her face. She fell down
onto her bed, trying to look for that feeling. . . that link, that
essence that Ranma held within him. "Leave. . ."

She never once noticed she'd been using the Saotome-Ryu.

Ranma came back in a couple of hours with a grin of pure triumph. He
had finally understood what Nabiki had done, and more importantly,
why. 'It was obvious! When I tried to help her, she liked it. When
girls liked stuff guys did, they were nice to them. Sometimes they
hugged, and sometimes they kissed. Nabiki was just saying thank you!'
It wasn't exactly scientific terms, but it worked for Ranma. He may
not have known EXACTLY why she kissed his cheek, but that seemed to be
a rather workable situation to him. He nodded slowly and set down his
Bo-blade next to the futon lain out for him. He noticed a note was on
his pillow, so he picked it up and read the neat and pristine kanji.

'Dear Ranma-kun,

I hope the futon is comfortable for you. I apologize for Akane-chan's
behavior, it was extremely uncalled for. She's a very nice girl, she's
just something of a violent maniac.'

He had to laugh at that before finishing the note.

'Anyway, before you go to sleep, would you please go into the furo and
take a bath? You must be tired from the fight you and Akane-chan had
earlier. I can tell you've been working out, and I'm sure the long
journey hasn't had a lot of nice furos.

Kasumi'

Ranma had to admit he probably smelled. . . Kasumi seemed to be a
rather polite woman, and he could tell she took immaculate care of
this home. He shrugged and walked to the furo, his body exuding a
rather. . . healthy aroma from the training he'd done. He'd been
working on the Ryu Tsui Sen for the past hour, and while it wasn't all
the time he'd like, it had been enough to work out some kinks in the
way he performed it. The way he'd been using it before completely left
him open to projectiles, but it was a lot better, though he'd probably
have to test it out later. He absently began taking off his clothes,
not noticing that a sign was on the door to the bath. . .

He muttered to himself about rather monotonous details of the
technique as he opened the door. As he finally worked out that last
bedamnable detail of the ki flow in his legs, Ranma looked up to see
the face of one Kasumi Tendo, washing herself in a jasmine scented
bubble bath. The only thought that went through one of the prodigies
of the martial arts field was one that went through boy and man alike,
once caught in a situation that could prove to be volatile with any
female. 'Ah CRAP.'

Kasumi Tendo was a very nice young woman. She received an A average in
her school, graduated in the top three in her class, never cheated on
a test, never said no to her father, took care of the house. . .

And she had to admit, it was kind of nice. The thrill of cooking the
immaculate meals she brought to the table everyday was a rush for her,
almost like the tea ceremony's meditations. It brought her peace of
mind, tranquility, and relaxed her to no end. This was a very good
thing. Because if she wasn't relaxed, she could never deal with the
onslaught of the emotions she felt.

She had always been a rather emotional person. She threw herself
wholly into the emotion, and it almost always led her to happiness. If
she was angry, she could yell with the best of them, if she ever felt
like it. In itself, that wasn't a huge problem. She had enough control
over her own emotions, and enough reason to be happy, that feeling
badly or much of anything besides what brought the comforting smile to
her face happened almost never.

That wasn't the problem.

She had never denied being a sensitive person. She was affected by
teasing very deeply, even light teasing between friends. It wasn't
that she didn't know that it wasn't meant to really affect her, but
she had known very well how painful teasing was to people. She never
knew how to explain it. . . she almost felt as if she was the one
being hurt when boys had picked on the younger classes, or when a girl
became angry with another girl for any small reason. It hurt her so
badly. . . she could barely deal with it. This was why she often spent
time alone, or with people who felt badly themselves. She found it
almost. . . compelling to make them feel better, and it always seemed
to work when she tried to cheer them up.

And then she came home.

Her sister, Akane, whom she loved dearly, had the temper of a Mongol.
It was almost as if she actually enjoyed the all-consuming anger she
put herself in almost constantly, only stopping around her and her
school friends Yuka and Sayuri. It was a constant strain on her mind,
listening to the screaming, the 'KIYAH!'s as she broke every last
thing she could. She ranted and raved about every last thing that
irritated her, and it drove her out of her 'perfect and demure' little
mind.

On the other side, there was Nabiki. She knew how flippant and light-
hearted the girl was so often, but that was all she ever felt from
her. It was as if she deliberately hid everything she felt from all
but herself, and she wasn't sure she even admitted that much. Of
course. . . tonight was different. Tonight, she felt a kind of hunger
from Nabiki. It was as if her middle sister had opened up what she was
to the world, and she didn't care who saw it. She hungered for it.

She thirsted, even if she wouldn't admit it.

She found her bread and water, what may very well be her solace from a
very cold and lonely future.

And she almost claimed it.

Then Akane had gone and pretty much killed it. She saw her sister
actually happy, and it sat horribly with her. She felt so despondent
at seeing someone happy that she did what was natural, she attempted
to attack and destroy.

If she weren't so nice of a person, she'd smack her little sister
upside the head sometimes.

Which is exactly why she went to go work out her frustrations in the
dojo. She couldn't begin to grasp the advanced ki concepts involved in
the hard and fast movements of her father's style, so he suggested she
take some Grand Ultimate Fist classes. Kasumi had been rather
reluctant to take them, but much like cooking, she found peace in the
soft and gentle movements of the style better known as Tai Chi Chuan.
Each day, when her father took a nap, she went to the Dojo and lost
herself in the harmony of the dance. . .

She'd not had a chance to do that today, from all the commotion Ranma
had caused. She didn't mind so much, but she was rather fond of
routine. So much so that the eldest Tendo daughter found she couldn't
sleep without it. She moved out into the Dojo, slowly working through
her forms with practiced ease. Kasumi knew how much her little sister
enjoyed her family's Art, and she could never deny that. However, she
also knew that the Hard within her particular use of the style kept
her off-balance. If they ever fought, there was a chance, perhaps,
that they could be an even match. She shook her head and stopped
thinking entirely, concentrating simply on the instinctual reflex
ingrained by years of work in her style. She was not a master, nor
would she probably ever be, but this was bliss. To be alone, away from
her sisters and father, her duties, and simply relax into what she
almost lovingly referred to as the dance.

After about two hours of work, which was a little more then she
usually did, she had worked up a rather healthy sw. . . glisten. Her
mother instilled that into her early on, ladies did not sweat, they
glistened. She laughed softly to herself, carefully walking up to the
furo. She took off her sweatpants and tank top that she wore for
training, shaking her head at how ridiculous she must look in those
things. She'd bought them simply because her other clothes were too
restricting, and she had to be honest, the motherly looking clothes
she wore got old after awhile. Routine was a wonderful thing, but
there is such a thing as too much. After heating up the furo, she took
off her bra and panties and sat gently in the water, set exactly as
she liked it. She took the ponytail holder out of her long brown hair,
and simply soaked. And then he came in.

He was murmuring absently about something, and she very, very sorely
regretted putting that note on his pillow. And when faced with a
situation that would have almost all girls filled with a rather odd
sense of dread, her thoughts came very close to Ranma's. 'Oh MY.'

Ranma was not in a wonderful mood now. His face began to turn red, and
he looked down as quickly as he could. A little voice in his head,
that sounded oddly female, was giving whistles at the view, while not
at all a view of anything. . . private, gave him a rather clear view
of the woman in front of him. This voice took the form of a little
kimonoed girl, a katana strapped around her back. "I didn't mean to. .
. I mean. . ." After wishing he could give that bedamned voice a kick,
the sole practitioner of the Anything-Goes Style closed his eyes and
prayed death would be swift.

Kasumi looked to him, looking at his not quite unclothed form. He
still had his boxers on, but it was. . . quite a view. After she
realized what she was doing, she looked down in an instant; very glad
she was covered by the bubbles. Of course, that didn't stop the
growing blush on her face. . . "It's perfectly allright, Ranma. . . I
mean. . ." Rather self-consciously, she sank deeper underneath the
bubbles, leaving only her face visible. "I didn't leave the sign out
this early. . . it was really my fault."

Ranma winced. His. . . gifts, allowed him to give a rather unique look
into Kasumi's life. She had done nothing but try to make him
comfortable, and he hurt her feelings, as childish as it sounded.
"Nope, it was my fault. I shoulda been payin' attention. I apologize,
Kasumi, that I do." He bowed, making sure he couldn't receive a view
of the rather beautiful woman in the bathtub in front of him. While
doing so, he gave himself a nice mental kick in the head for even
thinking those kind off thoughts while he was apologizing for the very
thing the little voice was urging him to think about.

Kasumi looked at him and smiled softly. "It's allright, Ranma." She
felt. . . something, digging at the corners of her mind to be
recognized. "Let's split the blame fifty fifty. . ." In a rare,
unfounded display of confidence, she asked him something. "Have you
ever seen a girl. . . like this before?" She turned brighter red
still, this felt improper to her logically. . . yet. . . that same
feeling that kept her sisters closer to her then she could ever
explain was starting to shine through. It alone was the thing she
could trust most, and the judgements it gave were almost always right.
Not always the best decision, but always right.

"No way! I'm not some kinda pervert, I promise!" He kept bent, praying
for a way to escape without outright running from the kind woman.

"It's allright Ranma, I never said you were. . ." She laughed softly,
her mind slipping, changing. . . it always happened this way. If she
got close to a person in any way, her mind would open up. It was as
though she was blind, seeing everything for the first time as her eyes
truly opened. Wisdom and words flowed through her, things she could
never remember learning, things she could never say unless her mind
changed like this, and things she would never remember unless she was
told. The confidence within her wasn't very visible, but her whole
demeanor changed. The propriety within her voice was astounding, and
while it still carried that same soft tone, it was as if she became
part of something else. Something that was. . . epic. The very fabrics
of what she tapped into seemed mammoth to her. She knew not how she
did it, how to do it, or why it happened. But she knew when it
overtook her. . . she was up for a wild ride.

Ranma himself was extraordinarily confused, though he was doing well
so far in minimizing it. He could feel The Technique's hold slipping
in on him, changing his mind to aid him. He thought, in a way, that it
was almost like a living thing. . . it rushed through every last fiber
of his being, aiding him when he was overwhelmed. The Technique gave
him the power and strength, in a way, to do anything his body could
not. As The Technique took hold of him, he felt his fears slipping
away. He knew immediately she wasn't out to attack him, or do much of
anything to him. But he could feel her. He felt every last piece of
her kind nature, her sacrifice, her losses. . .

He felt something that almost jarred him out of the strength that The
Technique gave him. It was an energy so familiar to him that he
could've smacked himself upside the head for not noticing it before.
The Technique's holds. . . also touched Kasumi. But that meant. . .
that Kasumi was an empath. Was that even possible? The Scrolls of
Washed Blood made no mention of other empaths, other then they always
touched lives in the deepest way imaginable They told that ill will,
as well as the desire of others to keep them happy were both equal and
unparalleled. He gave a soft smile, matching hers with startling
equality, his voice becoming deeper, more mature in the folds of The
Technique. This was too important to be embarrassed about. "I have
some questions to ask you."

----------------------------------------------------

Errr, well. Hmm. Yes. This isn't a masterpiece, this ain't vunderbar,
this ain't even all that good. But it is an idea I've had wanderin'
around in my head for a few months. if you can make sense of this, I'd
applaud your skills. Make the connection and you get a prize. before
it's revealed, of course. *walks off, my cloak swooshing behind me as
I laugh maniacally*

Ranma: . idiot.
Foreward: I own nothing. If the apostrophes and quotes are bad, then
do me a favor please: Right click an area on your browser that's NOT
text, go to 'Encoding', and click 'Unicode'. That should fix any
problems.

I imagine if, at some point in time, Ranma Saotome was to stay in any
place for longer then two weeks before the Tendo home, he would have
noticed quite a few things. Like how alone he was with only his father
as company. Or how happy a lifelong friend could be, or a place that
held memories. The closest thing he had to friends were people who
continually challenged him, attacked him, and attempted to claim
vengeance on his head.

He chuckled and thought about all he had learned in the past, the
techniques, forms, speed and power that came with martial arts, the
very crux of his existence. The Anything-Goes Ryu is rather vast and
varied, and different for each member of the school. He had seen
people take the bare basics of the rather modified kempo he taught
them and adapt them to include the strangest things, from typical
martial weapons such as bo-staff and nunchaku to things such as garden
hose, headphones, or construction supplies. His father's own style
involved quick, precise strikes in the right places, using his own
body as a tool to sneak and creep, dodge and weave, stumble almost
incoherently until he came up behind you with a palm strike to the
back of your neck in one fell movement, while you wondered what the
hell he had just done. At least, the first few times...

His own style of the Art involved midair combat at its highest. He
emphasized speed over power, though he had plenty of either attribute,
he was capable of using his speed to become invisible to the untrained
eye. Not to mention a few trained ones to boot. He could strike in a
flurry, though he preferred a slow, methodical approach. That way he
could watch his opponent's style, integrating it into his own. Never
stealing a maneuver per say as taking the materials in which it was
composed of and using it within his own style. He ignored the flashier
attacks and defenses of many styles, taking instead the principals and
cores and attempting to integrate them on his way to becoming the
best. He asked the masters and senseis that he had trained with
whether this was a normal thing to do, back when he was still young.
They had all laughed and ruffled his hair, smiling as they explained
how truly unique and strong he was with only the proud and wondered
look in their eyes. However, as he had learned the Hiten Mitsurugi
Ryu, his style was slowly yet surely beginning to change...

The forms on the Scrolls of Washed Blood were so different from
martial disciplines he was used to seeing. A martial artist was to
protect all those around him... but he knew better. Easily, he could
destroy any one person if he ever lost control, particularly if he
used more lethal attacks in general. He liked to think he was better
then that. Until now. He was not a fool; the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu was
an assassin's style. The ultimate style in which to take a human life.
To snuff out years of work, suffering, joy, and memories in the single
strike of a blade. His first kata, and all others after thus far, he
had learned under the tutelage of the scrolls was depicted by pictures
and a caption beneath them to show how to move to the next picture...

He stood forward in a low crouch, his hand held tight onto his Bo-
blade. Leaning back onto his right foot, he grasped onto the saya as
he channeled his ki into the weapon. A small, almost unnoticeable
crack appeared below the cloth handle as he looked dead forward, his
eyes began to harden with intensity. He slowly drew out the blade from
the saya, feeling his body with the control of one who had trained for
his whole life as he looked for any small error within the stance. The
strength within him, pulsating as if it belonged there, was evident,
the sword coming in an arc that would most obviously decapitate any
human it was used on. A change in speed and tempo, he spun around and
used his momentum and strength to fire the saya from his hand like a
dart, and then the most difficult part... catching the saya. His speed
training had been intense in the past, but this was downright intense.
He was supposed to catch something that he himself had thrown, with
accuracy down to the centimeter. After catching it, he was to roll on
the ground to the side, removing the sheath again in the process, and
striking out where the knees would be with his sakabato. After that, a
quick sweep to the Achilles tendon without the sword (Which was
perhaps the least difficult part of the kata for him). And to complete
it, he stood up and attacked with a five combination, a thrust to the
shoulder, stab at the stomach, a downward chop to the head and two
diagonal strikes at the neck to follow through.

The kata was vicious, brutal, and most likely very bloody. It was made
to disable and destroy, to end life in the most painful way he
could... and this was the first kata, you must remember. The things
that he could do with the knowledge of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu were
frightening at best, and horrific at worst. The chances of him losing
control were slim to none. Training, day after day of training,
stressing control of his body and emotions to the fullest made sure of
that. He hoped to whatever Gods there were that he never slipped. He
could not bear the pain and sorrow he inflicted on others and himself
if he became like the man in the scrolls once was... Himura Kenshin.
The most recent Master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu... and his ancestor.

Ranma Saotome of the Saotome no Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu was trained by
his father, Genma Saotome, Grandmaster of the Saotome no Musabetsu
Kakuto Ryu. As a child, Genma had learned to rely on himself. Not a
tool that could be stripped away from you. He passed that belief to
his son, that it was much more reliable and stronger within a person
to use the two weapons a person was blessed with from the beginning:
Their fists and mind. Though Ranma knew there was more to martial arts
then just his own body, he could learn more from his father if he
stuck purely from the Kempo style the Saotome Ryu was founded upon.
And so it continued, until they hit the training ground of Jusenkyo...
Ranma and Genma trained atop the high poles over the cursed springs,
exchanging blows until Ranma was knocked into the pool of Nyaniichuan.
In a spiraling uppercut from that very pool, a red-haired streak came
up and punched his father into a spring as well...

The Springs of Jusenkyo were simple in nature. They absorbed the first
DNA pattern that fell into the springs, and duplicated it into every
person that fell in afterwards. Thus, the cold-water trigger was able
to change Ranma Saotome into his girl form. However, in an extreme off
chance, Genma was knocked from atop the pole into a blank spring. He
drowned in that spot, the only possibility of 'rescue' a cheap
facsimile with only the body of the man that raised him. And even
then, it based itself purely on the off chance someone else fell in.
And Ranma was sent to the Tendo Dojo by the last words of Genma
Saotome, to look upon all the scrolls in his possession and complete
his mastery of the Saotome no Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu in his succession.
Bobbing his head over the water one more time, the last words he spoke
were "I'm sorry..." Ranma woodenly went to the camping ground near
Jusenkyo, the loss of his father permeating every thought within
himself. He openly grieved for three days and three nights before
finding the strength and will to practice the Art again. He slowly
walked out of his tent, the unfamiliar sun momentarily blinding him.
It had rained during the time he grieved, as if the Heavens recognized
and wept for his loss, for once on the side of the young martial
artist.

Though he still mourned for the loss of his father, he stood up and
took to heart what his ten-year training trip had been about;
mastering the Saotome Style of Anything-Goes Martial Arts. He began to
search through the various scrolls in his father's backpack, looking
for whatever his father was going to teach him next. Genma always
looked up the forms to make sure there wasn't anything he had
forgotten before teaching Ranma something new, they had to be in there
somewhere. Finally, he found a bundle that seemed to capture him,
entice him in a way he had never felt before. The scrolls were
weathered and old, an interesting shade not of faded yellow. The faint
red in the color of blood staining of the normal white with kanji.
Sealed each by a wax imprint, they seemed to be numbered, each
sequential number in the scrolls next to an X-shaped imprint into the
wax. As soon as he touched them, he saw an almost visible glow of
faint magenta, the seal off of one vanishing in an instant. He felt
compelled to do this, as if this was right, to read the first
passage...

"To my unborn heir,

I am a man who has two faces, two lives, two destinies running
parallel and intertwining all at once. Though I am nothing more then a
simple vagabond now, I was once known as a man called the Hitokiri
Battousai. A man who was created simply to assist a movement against
the old and corrupt government, to bring about the era we now call the
Meiji. Though even that was not enough, I have been through war once
more: A revolution not to bring the Meiji government, but the ideals
that were made to found the Meiji era. Each time an innocent stood
down in silence from fear, of death, of others being hurt in their
stead, of the land falling to corruptness... a casualty in my eyes. It
is my mission to protect, but it was not always so. I was once an
assassin, a destroyer of men and women alike, all to bring about the
peace I so longed for, only to be drawn out and fight once more. While
I am not proud of what I have done, I do not believe the world would
be a better place if I had not used my sword to bring about the era we
live in today. Though samurai are now a thing of the past, I am a
still warrior. A ronin if you truly wish to be technical, but a
warrior nonetheless. I have never served under a lord, but ever since
that fateful day twelve years ago, I have wandered the lands to
protect all those who needed it. I saw all the things I had worked to
stop; oppression, death, slaughter, poor workers, people who worked so
hard only to be denied what they had fought for. Though I have settled
down with my wife, Kaoru Kamiya, my school of Kenjitsu is about to die
out. This one school, with the two practitioners still living, has
saved this country in ways the history books will surely forget.

I have touched many lives in my thirty years on this earth, and though
I may be foolish to do so, I have written down the secrets of my style
in these scrolls... the Scrolls of Washed Blood; so as to have others
touched the way they deserve. Avenged and protected by the sword and
will of a warrior. The Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu is yours now, to have and
to hold, the knowledge within these scrolls exactly as I remember it
from my training all those years ago, my own additions within. Though
you may not have the same facilities in which to learn, however many
years later you find these scrolls, I believe you will be able to
adapt adequately, that I do. I am the man who was once known as the
Hitokiri Battousai. I am the man who was once known as Kenshin the
Rurouni. I am Kenshin Himura, the master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu.
And you are my descendant... you alone are my heir.

I know you wish to become stronger, the desire to protect and defend
all those around you. Your mind is different then others, or you would
not be able to understand the true implications of these words; that
you would not. The Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu is a very simple school in
theory; relying on predicting an opponent's movements before they make
them, as well as god- like speed that allows the execution of quick
and precise strikes, and several ki based techniques in which the
focus of the style will be. However, the act of predicting an
opponent's moves is very difficult, and requires not only the ability
to sense body movement, and see past any feint, but an ability that is
required in order to so much as open the scroll you hold in your
hands. It is an ideal called Ketatamashiihaato: Piercingheart.

The Piercingheart is a rare attribute within a person, and is erratic
in how it is manifested. I do not know how we are created, but it
causes extraordinary powers to manifest. Without focus, the sheer
ability which this entails to you is strong, but erratic and nigh
useless in practical application. I have learned from my master, Hiko
Seijuro, that the first of the thirteen Hiko Seijuros in existence was
able to manifest and control his gifts without tutelage, and used
these powers to develop his own school of Kenjitsu, the one I practice
now. The powers he developed were great, and many of them were lost to
all who practice the style. The focal point of the Piercingheart's
strength, the one that you have, is not in any physical power, or
changes in their body, but the ability to sense and read emotions in
other people. By sensing the emotion and intent to what your opponent
will do, you are able, with your own non-extrasensory skills, to tell
your opponent's maneuvers before they are executed. This skill is not
a difficult one to execute, with the proper training, but it is
extremely difficult to master. Against a truly skilled warrior, even
this alone may not save you. Develop your Piercingheart... develop
your empathic power. These scrolls will help you develop them as I
myself have been taught, by Hiko Seijuro the 13th.Though this is the
first scroll that I have written, I know in my heart the man or woman
that opens this scroll is the one destined to inherit the Hiten
Mitsurugi Ryu: the Style Of The Dragon Flying To The Heavens. The
style in which one could go so far as to save the world... should you
choose to do so, wild one."

His eyes closed, and he thought about what he had read. He started to
think, to feel, to understand what Was and what Is, the things around
him that simply Were. The words he read upon that scroll seemed to
speak to him, take on a life of their own and speak with the voice of
their creator. They encompassed a true purpose, the desire for one's
heir... Ranma felt his mind slipping away, changing not to another
person or the calm bliss of meditation, but what felt like his very
personality being drawn out. Words and things came to his mind that
touched him, that carried weight and passion. Things he never
understood, never knew, seemed to flow through his very being, the
crystal clarity provided by this sudden change within his mind
intoxicating. And yet... it felt as if a piece was missing from the
newfound mental change. Standing up, he looked to the sky and breathed
deeply, the warm air and gentle breeze pleasant to the senses. He
seemed almost out of control of his body as he jumped into the air,
high as he could. Though he was not as good as some he had seen (Not
that he'd ever admit it); midair combat was the specialty of his
school. A leap about seven meters in the air was the norm for him, and
he figured he could probably jump twice as high if he tried. It was as
if the scrolls themselves deigned him suitable to be truly possessed
by the nature of the techniques Kenshin Himura had written, that he
himself had never seen.

The time slowed down for Ranma Saotome, achieving a state of
meditation within the folds of The Technique he had yet to name, or
even begin to comprehend. He felt the air around him in state of
almost extended time, his hair flat against his head from the force of
the jump, seeming to stay like that for minutes before reaching the
peak of his jump. He felt the air and wind around him, what felt
natural to him. He had been training in the Art ever since he was
four, and had left the house he was meant to grow up in two years
afterwards. Ranma wasn't as good at the Art as he could've been, and
he wasn't allowed to undertake the more extreme training methods with
his mother around. And thus, he had forgotten about the warm and
comforting home, the small dojo in the back that he had practiced the
family Art he thought to be created by his father. Even now, all he
remembered was first learning the beginning kata in that small dojo,
the introduction to a flurry of fists and feet, the absolute state of
serenity within meditation, the rush and thrill of the challenge, the
fight... his mind closed itself from the memories, extending the
rudimentary seventh sense he had developed under extreme tutelage of
his father. The seventh sense, unlike his 'danger sense' or sixth
sense, was the ability to extend his ki to feel outside of his body
without use of his limbs. He was able to literally sense ki presences
at an ultra-heightened sense in this state, the Technique's holds
guiding him, pushing him...

There it was! The thing Ranma had been searching for was twenty miles
ahead. He felt an overwhelmingly strong amount of ki in the village,
and while normally without this clarity of mind he would believe it
was one person, he could tell it was a group of warriors. Martial
artists didn't seem to fit them somehow... he instinctively knew the
proper designation. He knew it was necessary to go there. He had to.
He had no choice... even if the Technique had not guided him; he
needed to test his skills against the world, to improve them, better
them. It was the purpose he had driven into him for years, to become
the Master of his school of Anything-Goes Martial Arts. The state of
extended time left him, and he touched the ground. He opened his eyes,
and though he could not see it, the blue-grey wide eyes seemed bluer,
gentler in a way. The confident smirk he had still adorned his face,
but it seemed softer somehow. Ranma sat down in front of the scrolls
and began to read on to the second passage...

"My heir,

It appears you are still reading. I knew you would... you were guided
to. As was I guided to learn the style of the Hiten Mitsurugi, you too
my descendant were as well. I have given instructions in my will to
have this scroll passed down to each member of the family. I do not
know why, as the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu was never a family style so much
as one passed down from heir to heir. I am not a psychic, and I truly
hope I never will be. Such powers are not meant for men such as I; I
could not stand idly by and allow the future to take course, nor
subtly manipulate it. Learn your limitations and attempt to surpass
them. Today is the first day of your training, and you will need to
find a waterfall..."

And so Ranma Saotome set about learning the style of his ancestor,
whom he suspected was at least his great-grandfather. The Meiji
restoration was quite awhile back...

He spent the majority of his days training in a waterfall away from
Jusenkyo. Consequentially, it also meant he was a girl most of the
time, but he did his relaxation as a male. Which consisted of the two
favorite activities of one Ranma Saotome besides his life's work of
the Art: Eating and sleeping. He retrained himself to use two styles,
not simultaneously, but so that he could switch in between the styles
during a fight. The Anything-Goes as was his father's last request,
and the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu from the scrolls. He spent about four
hours at various points in meditation, usually in two-hour increments.
Meditation was an important aspect in any martial art. More important
even then learning the forms themselves... his father had explained it
to him several times when he was a child. Meditation was not meant
simply to clear the mind, but to allow the muscles to put themselves
in their natural positions. Once that was achieved, and that was no
small feat, then the formwork began. All human bodies pretty much
reacted the same way in terms of relaxing: The muscles did not conform
to the katas and forms, the katas and forms
conformed to the muscles. It didn't matter how quickly you learned,
without your body relaxing in the proper way you would be doing the
katas incorrectly. So he spent two hours in meditation before working
on the Anything-Goes Ryu for a good five, and two more before
beginning his training as a student not from his old master and
father, but from a man who had placed his very essence into the
scrolls for five more hours of grueling training. Anytime he spent
outside of that was hunting and cooking, or sleeping. He swore up and
down he heard Kenshin Himura's voice whenever he read the scrolls, and
he couldn't understand why. Though that wasn't his prime concern. Not
all of the scrolls lessons were simply work in forms and conditioning
his body; quite a bit of it involved empathy. It was there he was
within a crossroad. Empathy involved the ability to sense another
person's emotions, and that was impossible with no sparring partner
unless he mastered some insane technique in which to have two bodies.
He had made his decision. Ranma Saotome was heading out to the village
of warriors he had sensed earlier. The haven that would further his
training to mastery of the Anything-Goes, as well as allow him the
first step to a much older style of his family: the Hiten Mitsurugi
Ryu.

He spoke to the guide before he left, asking directions to the
village. The guide looked mildly surprised that he knew there was a
village, but shook his head and pointed to a dirt trail through the
woods. Ranma gave small bow to the little Cantonese man and shouldered
his pack, as well as his newfound Bo-blade he had received from the
mysterious woman a few days ago. With that, he took the first step to
what he was told was the Amazon Village.

"Honored Sir?" Ranma turned around to listen to the Guide.

"Is Chinese village... you no speak Chinese, do you?"

Ranma almost facefaulted. He stood back on both feet and tugged the
back of his pigtail. "Guess I don't..."

"Honored Sir, for your loss I guide you for free. I translate for you
and warrior womans, yes?"

He almost smiled genuinely, the empathy or Piercingheart that Kenshin
had written down he could literally feel taking effect. He sensed
things from the guide... regret, sadness, and genuine concern. He
couldn't tell how strong they were, but they felt genuine and true.
"Thanks, man."

The guide smiled and took out a small backpack of his own, moving to
the dirt path. "Come dis way."

"Allright." Ranma began to walk, the staff on a holder in the backpack
for just such an occasion.

"Is too bad sir, was important tournament not long ago. Very special
to see all womans fight... you been in forest for three week."

"That long?" He was surprised... Ranma had no idea it was that long
since his father's death. His eyes looked half-to the ground, but he
still noticed the Guide's nod.

They reached the village in about an hour, making rather good time.
The Guide's portly build was rather deceitful, and Ranma had gotten
much better in how he expended his energy, both literally and
figuratively. The Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu had gone into some detail even
now about conscious ki control, something his father hadn't even
mentioned outside of things only the masters of masters doing.

"Here we are sir, at Amazon village of warrior womans." Though he
could only see the wooden walls around the village, he could still
just sense the overwhelming gathering of ki with the little seventh
sense he had. His experiments to duplicate the feeling he had just
after he had read the scrolls had failed, and he had slipped out what
he had deemed The Technique after he had fallen asleep that day.

"Listen, I wanna talk to somebody about a sparrin' partner... think I
can get some help here?"

The Guide nodded, bound by the enchantment placed on him by a woman in
the village that forced him to send males to the village. He knew it
was essential for their survival, but he couldn't help but hope he'd
lose... "Honored sir find many partners here to fight."

The grin on Ranma's face was unparalleled.

The doors opened, and he saw the village square... women seemed to be
on the better half, fighting eachother with all multitudes of weapons
and martial arts. He almost instinctually knew that they weren't
fighting for real, some due to his training, the rest due simply that
he felt it would be wrong to act and stop them. On the other side it
was exactly the same, but it looked like there were only males. He
noticed one boy working with a katana, his long black hair and glasses
obscuring almost all of his face. He wore a white patterned robe and
what looked like jeans, rather out of place in the bare-chested or
lightly armoured males... Ranma walked up to the boy, the Guide having
sat to the side and watching the warriors, male and female alike.
"Hey."

The boy quickly stopped and turned to him. "Hello."

"Listen, I saw that you weren't partnered up..." He paused in
disbelief when the weapon seemed to disappear from the Chinese youth's
hands and shook his head. "And I was wondering whether you'd like to
spar. I've been training all my life, and my sensei recently
departed..."

"I'm sorry for your loss... I suppose it would not inconvenience me to
stop and spar. I am Mu Tzu. Grandmaster of the Hidden Weapons."

"And I'm Ranma Saotome of the Saotome no Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu and the
Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu." He was mildly impressed... Grandmaster, and Mu
Tzu didn't look to be any older then him. By all technical rights, he
was the grandmaster of the Saotome style, but he didn't want to go
around bragging for something like that quite yet. Particularly since
he hadn't managed to master all of the forms and kata involved in the
style, and he had yet to learn the succession technique... regardless,
he set down his backpack and pulled out his staff, holding it in a
tight stance that emphasized speed and agility. He gave his customary
smirk, though for once it was in simply his own skill and not in
mocking. "And I say we get to know eachother."

Mu Tzu looked at him with an arched eyebrow. He could most definitely
tell that he was very good, though it looked like the Hiten Mitsurugi
Ryu was not the Art he had trained in all of his life. This promised
to be fun... "Let's." Without words, they charged.

The master of the Hidden Weapons used what appeared to be a left
cross, though as Ranma moved to block with his Bo-blade, a staff
appeared in Mu Tzu's hands that him square in the chin. He fell back,
rolling with the hit before coming back with a quick sweep. Mu Tzu
jumped over it, moving to vault on his staff to gain a height
advantage. He didn't have the time, as Ranma butted him with the tip
of the staff he held like a sword. He fell down, using the staff for
support so he didn't lie prone. He vaulted towards him, the staff
disappearing after having served its purpose. A pair of wooden tonfa
appeared in his hands, and he slashed in an X to aim for each shoulder
on his opponent. Ranma took the staff by each end and held it out in a
traditional block, thrusting it forward to hit his wrists and force
him to lose balance.

Ranma himself was getting confused. Not that it was a difficult or
uncommon phenomenon; but he didn't understand exactly how Mu Tzu was
able to cause his weapons to appear and disappear like that. He shook
his head and cleared his mind, attempting to allow his natural
instincts to take over. That was another advantage to the
Piercingheart's gifts: It required no incantation, no technique, and
no special circumstances to be invoked. Simply allow the natural mind
to be let free, and it would guide you.

Mu Tzu looked at him and quickly threw the tonfa almost like darts,
two more appearing in their place. Ranma jumped over them easily,
anticipating the movements with grace and speed true to his form.
Twisting over them as he maneuvered in midair towards his opponent, he
did a series of quick strikes to his back and shoulders, about twelve
total before landing on the ground. The Chinese youth winced at the
hits and spun around, the tonfa a distraction to block the crescent
kick. He may have been the master of the Hidden Weapons Style, but he
was privy to the Crane techniques that resembled the birds he loved so
much. Ranma blocked the tonfa as was expected, but got hit with the
viciously fast crescent kick. He slid back about a foot and grinned,
the unspoken challenge showing it wasn't just a test of weapons
anymore. He stood in a stance recognizable to all swordsmen, the right
leg far back to balance. His left hand rested on the saya part of the
sword, the right holding the hilt. Crouching low, he gave the now
wide-eyed Chinese Grandmaster of Hidden Weapons a small nod. Mu Tzu
knew the challenge, pulling out a katana still in its saya. Taking a
stance that mirrored Ranma's, they awaited an unspoken signal from
somewhere...

The wind picked up just audibly, and they both pulled their swords
from their respective sayas...

A crowd of males and a few of the more experienced females had
gathered a safe distance away from the fight, watching with baited
breath the results the contest of the Battoujutsu... also known as the
Killing Technique. They doubted Mu Tzu would kill, but they weren't
sure about the stranger... and if that was true, then someone very,
very powerful had just declared war on the Amazons.

A cloud of dust had arisen from the uncontrolled speed of their
swords. Once the dust had cleared, it became evident who the winner
was... Ranma's reverse-bladed Bo-blade was at Mu Tzu's neck, while the
Hidden Weapon Master's blade had barely left the saya. Mu Tzu stood
shock-still for a scant few seconds before falling to the ground in a
thud, the only marks on him a blackened bruise to his neck.

Ranma himself had enjoyed this quite a bit. He really needed to
practice some more with this guy, he was unpredictable and it suited
his purposes to the ground. Sheathing and shouldering his Bo-blade, he
looked around to the previously unnoticed crowd. He could sense what
Kenshin referred to as 'open' people, albeit vaguely. In order to read
people, it was usually necessary to link with them. Linking with them
was a simple process for him, it seemed, involving eye contact and
nothing more, save a bit of his own will to trigger it. However, the
difficulty and will required to link with them was lessened without
mental barriers humans naturally erected around the part of their
brain centered on their emotions. Needless to say, mental barriers
were a natural part of human brains. Some buried themselves so deep
into the walls that they in fact gathered on parts of the brain to
create a pseudo-other personality centered specifically on the
emotions that allowed the undesired ones to stay buried. Anger and
depression were typical ones, though peace and elation were also ones
in which people would bury their tempers or pain they felt inside. The
more the barriers, the harder it was for a Ketatamashiihaato to pierce
the barriers and read the emotions within them. However, some people
simply had no need for mental barriers: They were open, and honest.
That didn't mean they were always nice people, simply that they did
not lie to others or themselves about what they felt. So it was
possible to feel their emotions, albeit not nearly as well as if
linked. A blue-haired girl in particular, staring him dead in the
eyes, walked towards him. Her bonbori held in hand, Ranma was a little
too nervous to be thinking about finding her true intentions.
Reflexively standing in defensive posture, his muscles suddenly
tensing. The blue-haired girl's eyes widened lightly at the stance,
but she put her
bonbori behind her in a way no one but her would be able to reach. She
smiled and walked to him, her Japanese lessons were finally going to
pay off. She vaguely remembered one of the other Niechizu sisters
telling her that they had conversed in Japanese before battle.

"I is Xian Pu." She smiled as disarmingly as she could, not quite
within his kicking distance.

He looked warily at her and relaxed out of his stance. "I am Ranma
Saotome."

"Xian Pu want thank you for knocking out bothersome Mu Tzu."

"I didn't do it on purpose. We were sparring, and to be honest, I'd
prefer NOT to have had my head cut off..."

She smiled and giggled just a little at the dry humor. "True. But Mu
Tzu is still very bothersome to Xian Pu, so want thank you for help."

He blinked once, warily eying her up. He could tell the 'cute' act
wasn't real, that much was for sure. She had too much grace. Her
movements, even when attempting to seem disarming, had flow like water
within a stream, surpassing even the largest rocks as the unchanging,
unyielding water wore at even the strongest of stones. Her hands
balled into half-fists from pure muscle memory, she didn't look like
he was actively out for HIM at least. It hadn't occurred to him he
could link with her to read her emotions with more clarity. Training
with Genma Saotome did that to you: No layers. Only the first thoughts
seemed to take hold in his brain, and nothing more. "Thank me?"

"Yes. Xian Pu know you warmed up, he not even very big fight for you."
She absently licked her lips as she discreetly looked him up and down,
shaking her head just a little after she did. Physical contact was
generally a private affair in Niechizu, save fighting. While there
were... less then reputable martial arts (She gave an almost
noticeable blush at the thought), she practiced her family style of Wu
Shu. She was future Matriarch of the tribe, and it never hurt to
'recruit' new blood into the tribe... "Want real challenge?" She
raised an eyebrow and took out her bonbori once again.

Ranma gave a light smirk, standing in a very tight and defensive
stance based off of the Northern Fist Mantis School. His hands in
hooks, slowly twisting and weaving over his chest and head, obscuring
none of his vision. "Let's go then." Sharply, the hooks went back in
an all-offensive manner, the right pulled back as one pulls a fist to
punch, the left at level with his shoulder. Twisting it upward so the
back of his hand faced her, he quickly curled his fingers twice into
his palm before going back to the original stance.

All those that understood this had their mouths open in shock. Those
who didn't were able to notice one thing, the message when he curled
his fingers...

'Bring it.'

He leapt forward, slashing at her with his hooks and landing behind
her about a foot and a half. She weaved just a little and countered
with a spin of her bonbori, smashing into his chest. Grabbing the
bottom of the bonbori, he attempted a quick disarm. In turn, she did a
jump and spun away from him, landing on the tip of her toes before
sliding back, one bonbori just under her face, the other almost
completely covering her torso from the sheer size. Ranma gazed into
her eyes with piercing intensity his mind giving a discreet push into
hers, and the dance Xian Pu had begun gained a partner... she charged.
Strike after strike after strike, and all Ranma had to do was feel,
and he danced in between, under, and when her arm cocked back just a
little more, over... he jumped. Pushing off her head, he pulled out
his Bo-blade and shouted, "RYU TSUI SEN!" The first step in mastering
the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, an aerial attack in which many would be
completely hopeless against. He wasn't sure how effective it was, and
whatever the speed, the kick off the head had blinded her from the
attack regardless. The tip of the Bo-blade, still sheathed, hit the
back of her neck and rather hard to boot. Not too hard, but enough to
weaken her without using lethal force. His control with a weapon
wasn't as good as it should be, he had to correct that... Landing on
one foot, he cocked one fist behind his head, the other resting at his
waist with the Bo-blade crossing over his body.

Xian Pu growled, attempting to maintain some composure. She sensed ki
in that last attack to increase his jump and speed. Turning around,
she quickly closed her eyes. Almost all weapons given to females in
the tribe were magical in nature: By closing their eyes, one would see
an outline. Putting the bonbori to that outline, they would disappear
until needed again. Thus, the ability for her to take her bonbori in
and out at a moment's notice. Time to bring out the big guns...

She shouted, an odd quality in the soft and almost bimbo-ish voice she
cursed with every fiber of her being. "KACCHU TENSHIN AMIGURINKAN!"
She leapt the small hop towards him, her fists flying faster and
faster with the technique her Great-grandmother taught her. Ranma
gawped at the speed, but maintained his composure as he tried to step
back while avoiding her punches. She was fast, real fast, and whatever
that technique was; it was increasing her speed exponentially.
Fortunately... he was fast too. He was hit over and over to start,
trying to back up while weaving his body in between the punches. He
closed his eyes and continued to avoid them; relying on his danger-
sense and the link he shared with her. Finally, when he was avoiding
all but a few of her attacks, he leapt back at the scant opening she
left just enough to lean back into the stance for a "BATTOUJUTSU
STRIKE!" Drawing out the sword as quickly as possible, his strike went
straight to her stomach... or so it was supposed to.

The Kacchu Tenshin Amigurinkan was an attack that relied upon two
things. Ki and the proper mindset. The training involved in the
Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire attack was very simple: Swoop
chestnuts from an open fire without burning yourself. Once you were
able to grab a hundred chestnuts from a fire without burning yourself
on either the fire or the nuts, you had mastered it. The speed you
gained without using the technique was extreme, but by putting
yourself in the proper mindset in which to attempt such a feat you
naturally generated extra ki to shield your arms from the speed of the
attack and to increase that very speed. The human body naturally
protected itself, and the Kacchu Tenshin Amigurinkan played on that
strength. So naturally, when Xian Pu's eyes saw the stance that felled
her unwanted suitor, her ki reacted. Sending an extra burst of speed
to her in desperation, she did the most natural thing in the world to
her. She channeled it to her legs; something that had never occurred
to her, and jumped like her life depended on it. For all she knew, it
did.

Ranma was officially irked. His reactions weren't fast enough to deal
with a split-second reflex yet, particularly with so little practice.
He liked to think of himself as versatile, but he wasn't that good to
do something people trained there whole lives for QUITE that quick.
'I'll have it in a month.' And with that cocky thought, he squatted
down to match her jump, sheathing the Bo-blade and putting it into the
shoulder harness. He launched, and Ranma was once again in his
element... matching her height, he attacked. Xian Pu was weary after
the Amigurinkan, and not at full form. So she took the defensive; as
Ranma himself became four blurs, his legs and arms attacking her full
out. He had no conscious thought, only concentrating on letting his
reflexes do the work as the link between them widened...

Xian Pu was open. Very open. She hid nothing back, and when she did,
it was very difficult for her to do so. Her mind was open and mostly
pure, though she had her faults and hid not one of them. Contaminated
by no deep-running hatred or long-rooted anger, all of her mind was
open to those who knew how to See it... Ranma pressed for openings in
the village champion, as the attacks were going as well as the
Amigurinkan itself had against him. Not nearly as effective from the
lack of speed generated by the Amigurinkan, however. And thus, his
mind probed deeper into hers... images flashed through his mind
unwarranted, as Ranma pierced himself into the core, the central focus
of her thoughts that made his Niechizu opponent who she was.

*FLASH*

Her training began. The fist of her Great-Grandmother struck out to
hers, and her warriors heritage awoke...

*FLASH*

A woman much like her disappeared.

*FLASH*

The scorn of her peers came down like a maelstrom as she stood
triumphant, not minding that she had to defeat to become stronger,
lose friendships she worked so hard to maintain...

*FLASH*

The pain of fists, fleeting over her lifetime as her Great-
Grandmother, day after day, pushed her deeper and deeper into her
training as a warrior.

*FLASH*

A regal woman lay, and was to take place where she stood.

His knee struck out as he hit crystal clarity within her, striking
instead of the chest as he would with a male, dead in the stomach. The
wind was knocked out of her, and it became impossible to move... she
gave a soft gasp and fell, and Ranma moved down with her. He landed
before her in one fell move, moving a half-step forward, he held out
his arms expectantly. In a few seconds, she fell right into his arms,
and he very, very quickly set her on her feet. Falling to her knees,
it looked like she was bowing, her head leaning just a little forward.
His guard dropped quickly, kneeling down next to her. Now that his
concentration wasn't in such a large divide, he asked gently, "Xian?"
He almost instinctually put an arm around her, never minding that it
was completely out of character for him to do so. He Knew it was what
she Wanted...

Her breath returned to her, and she looked to him. She knew what she
had to do. The Kiss of Marriage was very specific.

She leaned in and kissed him, her tongue moving in after a few
seconds. 'Tasty...' Maybe she'd continue. She could get to enjoy
this... Ranma, however, had jumped right as he felt her tongue.
"GWAH!" The smartest move he'd ever done started now...

A true and perfect Saotome Secret Technique, for which he had his own
private name.

'Run like hell and never look back.'

"Wo ai ni! Come back airen!" Xian Pu bounded after him, using her
skills as a tracker to leap and bound after him, shouting declarations
of love to her new husband.

And all the Guide to the accursed springs of Jusenkyo could do, having
watched this whole thing, was laugh hysterically as his poor customer
had the village champion chase after him; reminiscent of a certain
American cartoon he had seen several times. A few of the Niechizu
children asked the Guide what was wrong, who was at this point rolling
on the ground. All they could make out were two syllables...

"Le... Le Pew!"

Authors Notes: Hey all. I'm sorry it's not QUITE as long, but I wanted
to have an explanation for the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu before I continued
to post. I swear I won't take so long in the future, especially since
I have my proofreader: Professor Jon Beauclaire Wolf. My thanks to ye,
boyo.