Standard disclaimer

I do not own, have never owned, nor will ever own Ranma nor any associated Ranma 1/2 character. Those belong to Rumiko Takahashi and all appropriate licensors, such as Viz Media in the states. My intent is not to profit from these works but to pay homage to a great manga series.

End disclaimer

Prologue

Ryouga sighed dejectedly. This wasn't particularly unusual, since it was around two o'clock, and he was already three dejected sighs behind that day. He gave the straps of his backpack a tug, tightening them, and kept on walking. He wasn't particularly sure where, or why, but he reasoned it was always better to be moving instead of standing still. Sooner or later, he'd get to where he wanted to be. He just cursed that it had to always be later instead of sooner. Much, much later.

It had been over a week since Akane and Ranma's little wedding fiasco and a little over three days since he last saw them. He didn't feel guilty for what happened at the wedding, and with good reason. First, he sincerely, honest to God, thought that he was in Okinawa, about to crash into a zoo keeper's office. Second, from what he learned afterward, it hadn't even been a 'real' wedding, considering they knocked Ranma out to get him to agree. That coward didn't even have the guts to marry Akane correctly. Damn him. Third, Ryouga didn't do anything. He now knew that Ranma and Akane were going to end up together, and as much as it galled him that Akane should settle for a womanizing half-man intent on humiliating him for the rest of his natural life, he'd come to terms with it. He wouldn't have fought Ranma over Akane's hand. Over other crap, hey, sure. He knew that all he had to do was hang around Ranma enough until he said or did something that demanded righteous retribution.

Still, the wedding had been ruined before his arrival, and all he did was go after the Nannichuan water. Everybody else did it, and Ryouga'd be damned if he'd let the cure (to something that was Ranma's fault, of course) get away from him simply because he had to be polite.

"Oh, no, please, Mousse, I insist. Take the water for yourself," he said, to himself, gesturing a bit in exaggerated motions, "Ah, Mr. Saotome, how could I ever take away your need for a cure? Please, you must take precedence."

Most people walking past the boy talking to himself gave him a wide berth, allowing him to be as crazy as he thought he had to be. No reason to shatter the poor kid's heart, they told themselves, by telling him that there was no one else with him.

Ryouga kept on walking, albeit without any physical manifestation of his thoughts. He wanted to be so many different places at the same time. He wanted to be home, to store some of the things on his backpack and maybe, just maybe, talk to his parents face to face. He wanted to be at the Unryuu farm, so that he could talk to Akari, let her know that she really was the only one for him, that the red-haired pigtailed girl meant nothing, really. He wanted to be at the Tendo Dojo, to challenge Ranma on the grounds of being a crummy groom. He wanted to be in Hokkaido, since somehow, he seemed to have a ticket for a sold-out concert two days from then, and he'd heard that it would kick ass. Not that he knew who 'U2' was, but if he had the ticket, might as well try to show up. He wanted to be anywhere in Japan that he'd be able to recognize.

Instead, Ryouga saw a tall Caucasian with long black hair and a pair of spectacles suddenly run out of a store and slam the door behind him, panting heavily. After a few breaths, he turned, cracked the door open, and peeked inside. He gave a small wave inside, along with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry," he said, in English. He then opened the door fully.

Ryouga, at first staring curiously at the westerner, suddenly felt very ill. He could not be in England again. If Ranma learned about this, he'd have a field day. Get in one or two cargo ships by mistake, end up in Russia, Mexico a few times, and suddenly Ranma wouldn't let him hear the end of it. Ryouga looked around. Everything was in Japanese, which was a good sign. He'd assume that the man was a gaijin in Japan instead of him being in a Japanese block of some city. It would seem an obvious assumption, had Ryouga not been in so many situations where such assumptions failed him.

"Hello," the foreigner said, addressing Ryouga, still in English.

"Heh-roh," Ryouga replied.

Hearing Ryouga speak seemed to trigger something in the man. He looked around a bit, and seemed to be taking in his surroundings. Ryouga took the time to evaluate the man. He was sharply dressed, wearing a red shirt that looked to Ryouga that might be Chinese silk, gray vest, pleated gray pants, and a pair of white Italian shoes that matched his belt. He was wearing also a very heavy trenchcoat, currently opened, and a red wool scarf, hanging around his neck like a towel.

"I'm in Japan, aren't I?" he finally said, still in English.

"Yes," Ryouga ventured, hoping that he wasn't actually lying.

"What is day today?" he said in Japanese. His language skills weren't bad, in Ryouga's opinion.

"Saturday," Ryouga said.

"The date?" the man specified. Ryouga told him.

"How many world wars have there been?" He continued, an anxious look growing on his face.

"Uh, two. Listen, why are you asking these questions?" Ryouga said, looking slightly uncomfortable. Was this man a truant officer? He hated those; hard to explain why he didn't attend school.

"Just..." the man had a pained expression on his face, "just a few more questions, OK? It won't take long. Has Japan won both of them?"

"Lost in WWII. But I guess you could consider that a trick question. Japan was the last power in the axis to fall, and the surrender was mostly to save the lives of soldiers that wouldn't have, had the US not employed a pair of atomic bombs, given up. Since their defeat in 1945, the Japanese people have managed to become an economic power, their imposed lack of military notwithstanding, demonstrating this success didn't come from the bullying of weaker nations."

"Are towels easy to buy?"

Ryouga was befuddled by this man, but felt that he had no right to refuse him. He'd needed help with directions more than once, and this man looked just as lost as he was. Maybe he'd knock him out after the questions and send him to some sort of mental hospital, as a favor. "Yes. Very easy. You can buy one in just about any large department store."

"Is print illegal?"

"Huh?"

"Is print illegal? Is it illegal to carry, own, or create printed materials such as books, posters, leaflets, porn? Especially porn."

"No," Ryouga pointed at a bookstore nearby, "if you want travel guides, those places usually carry quite a large selection, actually."

"Have aliens ever descended upon Earth, wreaking havoc and mayhem?" The seriousness with which he asked this particular question took Ryouga back.

"No, never. Listen, is this going to go on for very long? It's getting kinda late," he pointed at the sun directly above them, "and I really have to be home before dark."

"Just one more question: Have you ever heard of the name Harold P. Orlitz?"

"Can't say it rings any bells, sorry," Ryouga started to leave, hoping that was the last question.

"Wait," the man grabbed the youth by the shoulders, "Are you sure? Howard Orlitz? Hal Owlitz? Anything like that? Overlord of the Americas and doombringer of the new era?"

"Nope," Ryouga said, slightly annoyed at being grabbed, and thinking whether or not to hurt him when he broke the grip, "I've heard of a Bill Gates, but..."

He let go of him. "Yeah, yeah, I'm not interested in any upstarts," he said, with a dismissive wave. Then, he relaxed visibly. He took some deep breaths and pounded his chest twice. He raised his right fist in front of him, and cried, "Finally figured you out, you bastard. No Orlitz, no aliens, no WW VI, I can buy porn and a towel!" He let out a cry of joy, and then, in a much lower voice, "This is paradise."

The man turned to Ryouga, who had decided to stay and see this to the end anyway. "Thanks kid. Sorry for taking your time," he said, and bowed.

"Sure, no problem," Ryouga replied, a little uncomfortable.

The man turned on his heel and started walking away. As he passed a trash can, he paused, seemed to struggle with his hands, and threw something that looked like a keychain to Ryouga, but he was too far away to make it out clearly. Deciding he had spent way too much time cavorting with lunatics, he set out in a different direction, intent on finding the Tendo Dojo. As he was walking away, he passed a trashcan, where something metallic nearby caught his eye. It seemed to be jewelry of some sort, and Ryouga crouched and picked it up.

It looked like three rings connected together to a smaller fourth ring. He didn't know what it was supposed to be, but it was pretty in an elegant, simplistic sort of way. He could give it to Akari, even. Ryouga paused in his thoughts for a moment, and decided that it was best to find out what it was first and then have it appraised. He didn't want to give Akari a piece of junk, or something utterly worthless. She deserved more than that.

He put the three larger rings on his index finger, and twirled the object absently. Maybe women liked linking multiple rings to one finger nowadays? He was so behind on female fashion, he didn't want to embarrass himself, presenting it as a bracelet sort of thing when it probably would end up being a really weird earring. He stopped the spinning, and put it in his pocket. He'd have to see a jeweler later, and he had other presents with him to give. One of the advantages of traveling the world.

Quickly forgetting about the strange man and the object that he threw away, he set out once more into the cold and unforgiving world.