Note: I disclaim. AN's at the end, since I rant a bit, and no one wants that at the top of a page.

Possession

1. Anything that is owned or held as property.
2. The state of being controlled or dominated by a force alien to oneself.

–

Of all the people that thought something negative about Genma Saotome, most would be surprised to know that topping that list was the man himself. There were a lot of reasons for this and few of them were simple – as he wasn't, despite common opinion, a simple man. He was however bound to a certain goal and despite all he wanted himself, and all concept of right and wrong, he would attain it.

He would make Ranma the best martial artist of the age. Not just his age, among his peers. The best of an era. Not for his own aggrandizement. Not for some concept of pride or honor. No, he would do it, because otherwise, the boy would have no future to speak of.

Would, and had done it. Oh, he knew that his son picked up and mastered skills and techniques at a rate that was frankly inhuman. It didn't matter – he'd made and paid for those sacrifices in the distance his son moved from him. The Cat-fist wasn't just a flawed method to build a mindless berserker, but a calculated gamble to unlock his son's ki at the earliest age possible. Once that had been done, he could push harder, knowing that instinct would have the young Ranma unconsciously drawing on that wellspring of power.

Honing ki at such an early age had taken brutal work, but to draw such resources out in an unconscious manner, it had to be done. Inhumane methods, mentally scarring techniques, and practices no sane father would consider putting their child through... Genma used them all, and showed the boy no mercy. In time, Ranma had expected none, and the lessons began to become a natural process. Everything was training, and the training never stopped. Not when asleep, not when eating, not when bathing. In time, the boy didn't even realize what he was doing – for Ranma, using ki to enhance himself was second nature, at the young age of eight. In just a few short years, he'd be ready to start with manipulating it consciously, putting him decades ahead of the curve. Despite that victory, however, training continued. Even school was an exercise in multitasking, where meditation flowed into retention exercises.

Genma knew Ranma kept his grades at a steady average or just-below point, to dissuade the administration and clubs present in Japanese schools from harassing him. This was acceptable to both of them, as those activities – while potentially fun and fulfilling – had little to do with the Art, and Ranma was far beyond those kinds of concerns by the time they presented themselves. The boy was somewhat ignorant socially, but that couldn't be helped. A life on the road took toll of that coin. There would be time later for such things. He didn't bemoan those situations, as they simply weren't important in the scope of what Ranma perceived to be his life. Genma knew at some point such a world-view had to shift, but that time wasn't now.

"Well, perhaps sooner as opposed to later," the bald martial artist grunted, considering what he knew and the state of his plans.

Saffron... that one serious unknown had shattered everything. He couldn't blame Ranma for getting involved, however. He'd taken the only approach available, considering his role in his son's life, to teach him honor and duty and that role had been the wrong example. It worked, Genma admitted to himself, if somewhat too well at times. Still, better the boy have some concept of such things, rather than follow in darker footsteps.

That was, after all, the entire reason for what he'd done.

That trip to China and all that came after, however, escalated things and sped up time-tables he'd assumed he had at least another year to work on.

Which was why he was currently placing a phone call much earlier than he'd planned on. "Hello? Yes, this is Genma... No, things aren't going to plan... I'm willing to take that step... When? Tonight, actually... Yes, it's that serious, but he's ready. I just won't have the chance to explain things... Yes, I can do so. I trust you'll explain things to him? Then I can proceed with no regrets... Yes. Goodbye to you as well."

Genma set the phone in its cradle before taking a centering breath to calm and collect his thoughts. Tonight, Nodoka was staying at the Tendo home, while he was supposedly out searching for more cures, as the last of Jusenkyo's waters had been wasted during the doomed wedding only a week before. He had the Saotome premises to himself, which was good for what he had planned.

Thinking on that goal, Genma made his way to the smaller practice hall that rested beside the Saotome home. It wasn't anything like the Tendo dojo in size, but then it was never intended for classes and instruction, just the needs of a small household. In the center sat a table, bearing the things he would need. Two sheets of paper sat there, along with a cloth-wrapped bundle the size of a small pillow, a simple ink set, and a modest bit of rice-paper scroll, and his personal hanko seal.

Inspecting the paperwork he'd secreted away until earlier that night for the better part of seventeen years, Genma ensured everything was in order, before placing his seal firmly. That done, he composed a small poem on the rice-paper scroll.

A path through night
I walked with the sun before me
A child, magnificent

Satisfied, the master of the Saotome School of Indiscriminate Grappling prepared himself for the last step as he settled into seiza by the table.

–

"Ninomiya-sensei?"

Furinkan class 2-A paused as the school-wide public-address system chimed to life. Her own lecture and lesson stalled for a moment, the diminutive young teacher – in her smaller 'normal' body – frowned slightly. "Yes?" she replied, knowing the system was bi-directional once queued on.

"Is there a Saotome Ranma present, today?"

Shooting the young man a questioning look he simply returned, the young woman answered. "Yes, does he need to come to the office?"

The voice on the other side seemed to consider that a moment before replying. "No, guidance room 215 would be better."

"Alright, I'll send him along," the English teacher said, before motioning the martial artist to her desk. Speaking lowly so the rest of the class couldn't hear, she favored one of her few stand-out students curiously. "Ranma-kun, is something wrong?"

Sparing the PA speaker a speculative glance, the pig-tailed youth shrugged. "I dunno. Never been called to one of the guidance rooms before."

"I know, but," for some reason, the young-seeming teacher felt a sense of foreboding from this meeting. "If you need to talk, or need help, come see me, ok?"

"Hey," Ranma offered while offering the woman a cocky smirk, "remember who you're talking to here. I can handle anything."

Hinako Ninomiya was not a touchy-feely person by nature. Nor was she one of those who had been won over by the Saotome boy's charm, rough and ready as it was. She was, however, observant enough after their initial meeting to understand the young man's feelings and intentions. He had wanted to help her, and for the most part, that uncommon selflessness derailed her usual focus on maintaining discipline. After all, the adherence to rules and observation of moral codes was put in place to guide and mold people into being good examples. Ranma – rough and unpolished as he was – already managed such a thing. It was just somewhat hard to see under the bluster and sharp corners, sometimes. The bottom line, however, was clear to anyone that had an inkling of human nature and a slight insight into a person's actions. Ranma wasn't a bad person – he just sometimes didn't know how to avoid the wrong answer, when pressed for a solution. That in mind, she pulled the young man close and gave him a brief hug, somewhat fearful of the feeling she was getting of the impending meeting, more now than before.

"There are people, like me and Dr. Tofu, even if he isn't around, that worry about you, Ranma-kun," she whispered as he was somewhat petrified at the close contact. "Just remember that if you need help. Sometimes, a friendly ear means more than you'd think."

When the small teacher let him loose and gestured to the door, Ranma left quickly. Sliding the thin door behind him shut, the young man frowned, considering his ki-crippled teacher's words. "I'll keep that in mind, Sensei," he murmured with a slight smile, despite the fact she couldn't hear it.

After all, how many people in his life had made such an offer?

Class resumed with little fuss, but it wasn't until the next period – and a subsequent change in teachers – that Ranma returned to class with a blank, stony expression and dull eyes that seemed very much out of the ordinary for the young man. Handing the current teacher – Yukari Sugimoto, their science instructor – the note in his hand, the young martial artist took his seat with wooden motions.

The teacher, as unused to his actions as his classmates, read the note and paled dramatically. "Ah, Saotome-san, this says that you're excused for the day-"

"Got nowhere else to be," the young man replied in a dead tone. "If it's alright, I'd like to just stay here."

Considering those words and the life the martial artist lead, the kindly teacher nodded while sparing him an uncertain glance. "Alright. But you'll just be observing the lecture today – no chemicals for you."

"Thanks, Sensei."

Nodding, Sugimoto turned her attention to the rest of the class and scowled as she noted a certain pair of boys trying to hide their actions. "Oi, what are you brats doing with that potassium chlorate? Don't make me put the fear of Martial Arts Chemistry in you!"

With that out of the way, the class continued in a relatively normal fashion, though there were at least two pairs of eyes that strayed often to a nearly motionless Ranma Saotome, as he went through the motions of class. What surprised those present – including the teacher – was the young man volunteering information on some of the questions presented. Correct information.

Those two things, along with his vastly out of character behavior, convinced two separate individuals to approach the young man, at their first opportunity for answers. Whatever had happened when he was called out during Ninomiya-sensei's lecture had obviously been something big.

And clearly, that affected his fiancees too, right? Right!

–

At lunch, there were more signs of the upcoming apocalypse.

First, the martial artist vacuum sometimes mistaken for Ranma Saotome wasn't eating. It wasn't because he'd forgotten his lunch, or didn't have the option – both were present, in a wrapped bento from Kasumi and his friends offering him various flavored breads, thinking the latter. Once everyone actually began paying attention, it became clear that it wasn't those options at all, but something worse. Ranma simply seemed to have no appetite.

Second, Ranma managed to not only sidestep Shampoo's patented air-drop bike delivery entry, but also to dodge her incoming Amazon Glomp ™ like a matador would an unruly bull. When the Chinese girl face-planted into the tree in the common yard of the school, the young man continued his listless pacing, hands in his pockets where they'd been since he walked out the doors.

Third, while somewhat stalled by the sight of a knocked-silly Chinese girl, the other two most-common fiancees seemed to be showing a concerted front, in approaching the young man. Having seen enough, most of the students of Furinkan High School decided that was all they needed, and retreated before becoming collateral damage.

This being Nerima, and Ranma being involved, those sentiments were likely justified.

"Hey, Ranchan!"

"Ranma, what's up?"

Hearing the two young women call to him, Ranma blinked out of his fugue somewhat to address them. "Ukyo. Akane."

The flat response didn't sit well with either girl, but they didn't respond with anger, considering the young man's distant demeanor. Of the two, Ukyo was the first to respond, "Hey, Ranchan... what's wrong? You've been acting off ever since you got called out of class earlier."

"Yeah, did the principal do something?" Akane asked with some heat, having figured that all things considered, a delusional Kuno was the most likely culprit, considering all the points offered.

Ranma shook his head, staring up at the sky listlessly. "No, wasn't anything like that," he murmured, before closing his eyes with a grimace. "Look... I don't really wanna talk about it here. Supposedly there's gonna be some kinda meeting at a hotel tonight. They rented out one of those party rooms. Akane, your dad should have gotten the call earlier, but can you pass it along just in case?" Following action to words, the pig-tailed martial artist handed his fiancee a business card, with a date and location on the back. She blinked a moment at the feminine handwriting of the note before nodding.

"You too, Ukyo," Ranma continued, flipping the chef one as well, as he tucked a third into Shampoo's pocket discreetly.

"Wait," Akane asked, catching up with the conversation. "Pass it on? Are you not coming home after school?"

Shaking his head the young man closed his eyes, his face screwing up under the pressure of an unknown thought. "Nah. Got to... check on something first. Not something I can put off. I'll be at the hotel though. Kinda have to be."

With that the young man walked off, ignoring the half-muttered questions that the two girls tried to voice, as they worked to get their heads around what was going on.

Akane looked to her sometimes rival and the slowly awakening Chinese girl with concern clear in her eyes. "What in the world is going on?"

"I don't know, sugar, but I don't like it," the okonomiyaki chef replied with a hint of worry in her voice. "And I think I'm gonna like this meeting later even less."

A feminine groan announced a certain Amazon waking up, causing Akane's expression to sour. She never had quite gotten as friendly with the foreign national as she had with the spatula-wielding girl nearby, and didn't much want to be around for the purple-haired girl's inevitable questioning. Especially after the failed wedding recently – sure, she should also be mad at Ukyo, considering, but they managed to patch things up. Shampoo on the other hand... "Hey, can you handle her?"

Ukyo nodded, understanding the youngest Tendo's meaning easily enough. "Sure, you go keep an eye on our little worry."

Akane sketched a rough salute with a half grin. "Right, see you in class!"

"Uhh, where Airen?"

With a roll of her eyes, Ukyo prepared for the unenviable task of talking with Shampoo, and trying to get through the girl's pig-headed, one-track mind what was likely needed for later that night.

–

Afternoon came to Nerima with a somber and strained note. As the various invited parties arrived at the hotel where explanations were expected, there were the usual 'pleasantries' exchanged. Soun Tendo questioned the Joketsuzoku contingent of Cologne and Shampoo on why they were there, then started his usual belly-aching on Ranma's honorless actions for inviting them, while the elder ushered her heir by the scene with a look of mild disgust.

"Oh, if only Saotome-kun were here to show his son the error of his ways!"

Nabiki rolled here eyes from where she stood behind her father. "Oh, you mean like teaching him to run off at the first sign of trouble?" Seeing her father stall wide-eyed in his childish display, she gestured around sharply. "Because I can bet you this is his fault, again, and as usual the fat freeloader isn't here to take responsibility."

Stunned and in mild shock over his daughter's sharp tongue, Soun allowed his oldest daughter to guide him to their marked table. Kasumi, though not appearing to have an opinion one way or another, questioned her younger sister on her words, "Was that truly necessary, Nabiki?"

"The family can't handle another of Genma's stupid decisions coming home – to our home no less – to roost," the irritable young woman replied, causing her father to sputter in his fugue as another salvo was launched. "I mean, look at the facts, sis. The Kuonji, Daikoku, and our own agreement with the Saotomes has caused more damage and upset than anything since mom died," Nabiki lectured, counting off points on her fingers, ignoring her father's spasming with each one. "Lets see. The only situation that was remotely Ranma's fault was the Amazon one, and our oh-so honorable uncle Genma was right there beside him then, surprise, surprise."

"I won't have you speak about our guests in such a way!" The Tendo patriarch snapped, rousing himself finally once he'd been seated. "My old friend and I know what's best for our families, and have taken the proper steps. Those other situations are irrelevant."

"So we're just supposed to ignore them?" Nabiki asked snidely, jabbing a finger into her father's chest, making him flinch back. "That's worked real well in the past. Do I have to remind you, father, that whoever marries Ranma gets the lovely bonus of his terminally stained family honor to go with it? And considering he was too young to be setting up those arrangements, who am I supposed to hold responsible?"

Looking to his oldest daughter and source of support, Soun's face fell as Kasumi simply returned his look with an arched brow. "Er, that is..."

Nabiki crossed her arms and sat back, nodding to a subdued and somewhat nervous Akane who'd taken a seat nearby. "So, lets say they get married. Ranma and Akane. Then, Akane gets all of Genma's bad decisions lumped on her shoulders – because it's clear the man won't solve them himself! – and all that brings with it. Possible blood-feuds with two families with more influence over more of Japan than ours, likely an open declaration of hostilities from the Amazons, and who knows what else."

Soun drew himself up, "Then Ranma should resolve them, like Genma and I decided, after that wedding... incident..." trailing off as his youngest shot him a glare that could peel paint, the older man worked his jaw soundlessly for a moment. "Ah, Akane...?"

"And how is he just supposed to 'resolve' those kinds of things, dad? Ignoring them won't magically make them disappear, you know! You know, I used to be convinced that Ranma was the biggest pervert in the world, till I got to know him. No thanks to you, dad, and trying to set us up by taking down the sign on the bath."

"How did you know – er, I mean, what are you talking about, daughter?" the beleaguered man sputtered, looking around frantically for someone to back him up. Genma's presence for the last two years had been a constant comfort, as he had another voice of reason to rely on. Now, however, he found his usual defenses lacking, and currently wished he'd simply let his daughters come to this alone.

"I told her," Nabiki sniped, her mood if anything, growing more sharp. "And be lucky that's all I've told her. So far."

Soun froze where he sat, eyes wide at that threat.

Akane took up her sister's slack, continuing her verbal assault, "And that's another thing – I know you're hiding things from me, but this is just getting stupid. But we'll talk about that later," she promised, eyes narrowed. "But like I'd said, I got to know Ranma more. I actually took a step back, and looked at what was going on, rather than just react. Sure, he's still an insensitive jerk, thoughtless, and insulting, but who's he had as a role model for the last decade? A liar and a thief who's afraid of his own wife."

"Genma is-"

"Oh, Akane, it's improper to say such things in public," Kasumi chided, interrupting her father's incoming tirade while sending her sister an apologetic look.

"Thank you, Kasumi, I can always count on you-"

"Even if it's all true, airing such things in public is unseemly," the eldest of the Tendo daughters continued, ignoring her father for the moment.

Sniffling in defeat, Soun could only whine pathetically as his last bastion of support vanished like morning mist. "K-Kasumi..."

While Soun proceeded into his daily breakdown, Akane began to note Nabiki's increasing agitation. "Hey, what's up? You're edgier than usual today."

Heaving a sigh, the typically composed young woman spared her sister a half-hearted smile. "Sorry little sister, but I'm a bit frazzled."

"Over this?" Akane asked, gesturing to the room. "I mean yeah, this is kind of different, but I don't think it'll be any worse than what's usually going on."

"That's where you're wrong," the middle sister muttered with a sigh. Louder, she went on, "This... alright, I'll go ahead and say that I know what's up. Sort of. And it's going to cause problems. Lots of them. But can't say for sure, how."

Grumbling, Akane sat back with a huff. "If you know what's going on, why haven't you said something?"

Nabiki shook her head slowly. "I know some of it. Bits and pieces, and I don't like it. I'll apologize to dad later, though. I shouldn't have snapped at him like that."

"Ask me he's had it coming," the youngest Tendo replied with a huff. "I mean, how is Ranma just supposed to make all that crap go away? We talked about it some, and the best he could come up with, is taking our name if we got married. I mean, that's not going to stop Ukyo and Kaori cold, but it'll take him off the Saotome register at least, and put this all back on Genma where it belongs. That didn't solve the Amazon issue, but he... well we..."

With a smirk, Nabiki leaned forward, scenting blood in the water. "So, he showed you those brochures I got him?"

Squeaking in embarrassment, Akane shushed her sibling. "That was you? He said he got them from a clinic..."

Nabiki snorted. "Right, like he'd even consider that. Though, remind me so I'll thank the soft-hearted lug for trying to keep me out of things."

"Still, giving the Amazons access to a... a... " Akane swallowed heavily, the thought of what they'd considered making her face redden. Most of that was due to the memories of the conversation that accompanied such talk, and how awfully awkward that had been. "Er, um. Samples. Of his. It's just odd."

"You mean making a deposit at a sperm bank, and giving them access," Nabiki clarified for her chronically embarrassed sibling, eliciting a deeper reddening from the other girl. "It was something we talked about, when brainstorming one night. Clearly, their outsider laws are there to strengthen the Joketsuzoku, so it has to do with either allies or children. Seeing as an unwilling or hesitant soldier may be a liability more than an asset, we figured it had to do with kids.

"So, this was the obvious result. Ranma's biggest problem with it... well. I can see where he was coming from, but..."

Akane nodded, remembering that part of their conversation as well. "He didn't want to have children, where he wasn't there to care for them."

Nabiki blew out a breath, ruffling her bangs with a slight sigh. "His heart's in the right place. It's his head that keeps me pulling out my hair, though."

Across the room, another conversation was taking place, though it was significantly more covert in nature, thanks to the language barrier between the speakers and those around them. "So, great-granddaughter," Cologne asked in her native tongue quietly, "have you any idea why we were summoned here?"

"No, elder," the young woman replied in kind, shaking her head. Shampoo spared a surreptitious glance around the room, easily noting the common thread as the okonomiyaki chef arrived with not only her ninja assistant, but an older man that resembled her somewhat. With a word, the young woman sent the kunoichi away for a time. "Though, considering those others invited, I have some guesses."

"Indeed?" the Joketsuzoku matriarch replied, happy to see her heir approaching this unknown situation tactfully. It was a lesson she'd been working to instill since the outsider handily beat her years ago, and she found working against the young woman's considerably solid and calcified notions hard to deal with. Though it was a good thing to keep Joketsuzoku law and tradition close to one's heart, there were times when diplomacy required those ideas to be tempered with experience and wisdom. Sometimes, one had to make sacrifices for the good of the tribe, against personal desire, or even family. She hoped those lessons were far in the future, however. Coming back to the task at hand, the old woman nodded to her great-granddaughter. "So, what are you guesses, Xian?"

Nibbling her lip as she thought, the younger of the two began hesitantly. "Well, almost all of Airen's other entanglements are here, so it must either directly involve him, or them."

"And? What else," Cologne prompted.

"He hasn't arrived yet, but there is much security," the lavender-haired girl observed with a small frown. "Competent security, as well," she admitted with something like a grimace. She wasn't going to admit it, but those women in the suits who were clearly – to her senses – carrying weapons intimidated her terribly. They each felt at least as strong as her or the chef girl, and moved like trained warriors to a one. That they seemed quite comfortable with their firearms made the Chinese girl recall the few times Beijing had sent an emissary, in her time in the village. Those seasoned soldiers had a healthy respect for the Joketsuzoku, and were afforded the same, as it was they who kept China's border as clean as it was.

Cologne nodded, having noticed the same thing herself. "And what conclusion do you draw from that?"

Shampoo hedged a moment before speaking. "Whoever Airen has managed to cross this time, has influence."

"Good," Cologne allowed, pleased her heir was thinking things through a bit more, since her mishap at Phoenix Mountain. Being reduced to a mind-controlled slave would do that to you, she mused. "Influence means power, child. Before, all our opponents in regaining your honor and acquiring your Airen for the tribe have been weak in this regard. People, rather than entities."

"I do not understand," the younger Amazon countered, looking perplexed.

Nodding, Cologne worked to change that. "An entity, like a business, or government. Alone, we have been enough to counter the Tendo's arrangement, by using your curse and the guilt it caused and some careful use of jealousy to prevent forward movement there. The Okinawan chef has supplied her own difficulties, and a only a few small nudges have been sufficient to stymie her.

"This presents a new... and potentially fatal aspect to our plans."

Shampoo did not like where this conversation was going. All her plans for her future were balanced on her ability to prove she had the makings of a matriarch, and the respect of her people. Lacking either would see her either exiled in disgrace, or worse, never cured of her curse. Now that her Airen had proven himself capable of not only curbing the Dragon Prince of the Musk, but also the Phoenix Lord, pressure was greater than ever for her to conclude her foreign hunt.

The situation could have been resolved much sooner, had things gone her way, but the language barrier, misunderstandings, and Ranma's own lack of interest in her sexually worked against her. What had she done wrong? Surely, the young man could put aside the mistaken hunt to kill his cursed form, for the honor of sharing her bed. Did not all young men desire a willing partner?

Her great-grandmother's words haunted her thoughts. "How does this change things? What must I now do?"

"It will be a difficult thing to see," Cologne replied with some gravity. "Since our own position is one of weakness, here."

"Weak? How?"

"Think, child," the matriarch snapped. "We have no legal footing in this foreign land. Our laws mean nothing to these people, and only the bonds of honor Ranma finds himself entangled with hold him to us. That is why I haven't pushed for plans to force him to discard all his honor, to our benefit. Because there would be no benefit."

Heaving a tired sigh, the Joketsuzoku elder regarded her great-granddaughter's growing worry with a hint of pride. She'd had her own tough decisions in life, and no doubt Shampoo would grow from this one as she had. She just hoped that growth left her able to continue her aspirations in the tribe. "If whoever has an interest in Son-in-law now has the backing of law, our claims become nothing. Luck has his current entanglements in the same position, being agreements rather than bound by law. We have no way to press our hand in that fashion.

"Beijing humors us out of some mislaid notion that if China herself were threatened, we would aid in its defense. You know this from my lessons to you, unless your mind has become too clouded with thoughts of your Airen to recall it," she asked with a raised brow. Seeing her heir blush, the older woman sighed. "In truth, we simply threaten and retreat, gauging our place carefully to maintain distance without becoming a further tool in the government's arsenal."

Shampoo snorted at that. "Like the Joketsuzoku would bend to any regime's whim."

Cologne regarded her heir neutrally. "I suggest you study the recent wars, great-granddaughter. Things are much different in this world, than our old texts describe."

"Indeed they are, Elder Ku Lon," a young girl in her late teens commented in Mandarin as she seemingly strolled out of a nearby shadow. She was of middling height, neither too tall or short, with hair cut similar to that of the middle Tendo daughter, if somewhat less styled and in a different shade – hers being a deep blue-black that resembled a raven's wing. There, however, the similarities ended. The girl glancing aside to the Joketsuzoku she passed had sharper features, and moved with the easy, slinking grace of a prowling cat. The black cheongsam with white lining and accents she wore seemed custom designed to show off her form, slight and lithe as it was. She wouldn't win any swimsuit competitions against Shampoo, but where the Amazon presented a cheerful, warm, bubbly image, this girl was cold steel. Dark burgundy eyes betraying nothing lingered on the Chinese contingent a moment longer before turning to room at large, dismissing them wholly.

Stunned that such a clear threat had been lingering literally at an arm's length, Shampoo stumbled her words, speaking in Japanese, "Ah, who... how?"

From her position nearby, Cologne could only guess that the woman's presence and abilities meant for their goals, and none of those guesses were pleasant.

Elsewhere in the hotel's rented room, a different sort of meeting between family members was taking place. "So, son-"

"I'm a girl, dad," Ukyo bit out between grit teeth. "I was born a girl. I'll die a girl. I've barely seen you in ten years, so can you at last get that much right, today?"

There were many things that made up the man named Akito Kuonji. Pride and entitlement were two of the largest. It had galled him to no end, when he learned that Genma had played him so easily, and so he'd done what he could to recoup that loss. If he didn't have a daughter then that damned agreement couldn't have been made. Changing the family register had been easy, at that point. True, only his distance from the rest of his clan allowed such a thing to be possible at all, but it had worked. Now, all that remained for him to erase the dishonor of his past rested in his... child's hands.

Still, the elder Kuonji had to admit, the man he'd made that agreement with was far beyond his abilities. It was for that reason he sent Ukyo out into the world to train. He himself would gain nothing from such a trip, as his skills were too calcified and set in particular patterns, which had failed before to defeat the elder Saotome. Now, however, he had a child that could do what needed to be done.

Provided they could get past this little issue, of course. "Now, Ukyo, you know why we can't-"

The older man was given a first-person glimpse at what happens to those who strayed too long in Nerima. Specifically, a look into the lack of tolerance for stupidity that overexposure to that ward tended to cause in some. Retrieving her combat spatula from her now-dazed father's face, the irritated chef sat and grumbled to herself about thoughtless family, stupid arrangements, and annoying meetings that had to come up during good business hours.

It was nearly seven in the evening, when two uninvited guests were halted outside the closed room doors. Those inside caught the familiar bellowed bluster of a certain Kuno scion, before he was cut off with a strangled squawk. As if that were her queue to continue on in the same vein, Kodachi Kuno's voice could be heard, though it was her laugh shortly after that truly cemented recognition. Surprise painted a few faces in the rented room as that same grating noise was cut off mid-laugh, ending with a pained shriek.

Almost idly, a woman dressed as one of the attendants threw a knife into a shadowed corner, resulting in a rat-faced man in an ill-fitting ninja suit falling with pained and startled sound as he clutched at a bleeding hand. He was removed from the room by two more women in similar formal dress, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

On that ominous note, the hosts for the evening arrived.

–

AN: Irregular updates here at best, as this shares motivational brainspace with Bulletproof. This is just the other side of the coin.

Rant time. I have no, and shall never have, respect for so-called Joketsuzoku law. I see too many authors simply caving in to that idea, giving up on something logical for no good reason. Does the use of the word 'law' engage some mental safety, removing the ability to simply ignore a ludicrous situation? Because frankly, given even a small amount of time or exposure to modern culture, even Ranma would come to the conclusion that the Joketsuzoku were blowing smoke.

Is it because Shampoo is too lovable? I suppose an assassin who has no scruples about killing, mind-controlling, drugging or otherwise removing the basic human rights of whoever stands in her way could be considered a lovable character...

Excuse my sarcasm.

Threat from Cologne is a possible reason, but then, if that were a valid situation, Ranma would either be free of the obligations (too much of a risk, after Herb and Saffron), or already knocking up Shampoo from a mud-thatched hut in backwater China.

The mental aerobics needed to transform a willing and complicit murderer into a bumbling, amorous ditz do not interest me, nor do the workings of her exotic and tourist-unfriendly tribe of barbarians. I'm well aware of what pride and entitlement will do to a person's ability to justify their actions. I have my own skeletons, as testament.

On a lighter note, not I have not abandoned my other Ranma work. Eclipsed went on downtime while I map out where to go from here (lot to do there) and then take a small break, so I don't burn out on that story. I'm currently deciding which of many paths to take, which at this juncture, will set the tone for the rest of the story.

Lux will continue once I figure out how I want to progress from where I left off. I'm a relationship writer, really, and that makes me want to do something of the sort. However, I have this... mental block about messing with Konoha/Setsuna. And I REALLY want to. My conflicted nature is staggering.

Bulletproof, surprisingly, should be my next project, based on reception. I was not expecting the support it got. I will endeavor not to disappoint, as I'm finding my inclinations to write coming back to things that would work well in that story.

All other projects (specifically HP work) can be considered done/complete as posted/abandoned. Do not contact me regarding such things, as you will not get an answer, and bitching will just make me laugh at the time you wasted to vent at me. Those precious seconds of your life, spent all for me... so delectable.