A Ring of Ki's: Tears of the Beast
by BTB
Disclaimer:
RANMA ½ is the creation of Takehashi Rumiko – all rights belong to her and her authorized distributors, Shonen Sunday Comics, Shogakukan, Kitty TV and Viz Communications.
NOTE: This was originally an all too long prologue for Ki Cutters. Ring of Kis stories are generally one shots dealing with side stories for the characters portrayed in Guest Ki, Ki Cutters and Master Ki.
He floated adrift in a sea of black, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was almost a familiar place. It was dark as the womb he remembered, but there was no sensation of warmth or presence. Still, like a womb, he could faintly hear things going on around him. Whether they were real or truly ghosts, he didn't know, didn't really care, because finally, he had really lost.
If his memories went back farther than most people's and were more particularly detailed, the early ones were still as sporadic as any child's. Major events, things that went beyond the everyday warmth and food concerns of an infant, stood out in the tapestry of his days. In particular the surface of the clear waters of a pool as wrinkled old hands lowered him into and under the surface, cleansing the fluids of labor from his minutes-old body.
He felt a buzzing, tingling sensation and suddenly was covered in hair and could feel the odd sensation of other limbs at his back, where he could not see them. Oddly, he could see, though not well, with the eyes of the eel that formed his tail. He felt no horror, only interest. He had nothing to gauge humanity or cruelty by, no mentor at that point. He chirruped and mooed, and was a bit frightened when his mother's voice screamed. He began to cry.
Though only minutes old, in this body, his reflexes were better and he staggered, after several attempts, to a crawling position and began to force himself to move toward the terrified woman, while a creaking old voice calmly told his mother something of importance. Hissing with impatience, a kettle was pulled away from the fire and hot water lashed across his shoulders. Instantly he had fallen into the dirt, crying in earnest now. A human baby can't walk right after birth, but the memory gained from the genes of a yak, however diluted, told him he should be able to. He was very confused, upset and frustrated. After all, he had been making progress!
Then the wrinkled old hands scooped him up and deposited him back in his mother's arms. Blearily, he tried to focus his eyes on the form. There was a cackling sound, not a particularly reassuring thing for anyone to hear.
"You're gonna be something else, kid!"
oOo
As he grew older, the little old man returned every couple of months to take his godson into the wilds and train. This meant spending time in his other form, something young Taro rather enjoyed. It meant greater mobility, speed and power. Taro started out no larger than a large dog in his monster form, but in hours was upright, walking and moving as fast as any toddler. The things he learned in monster form transferred somewhat to his human form as well. He was up and walking as soon as his hips and legs had finished those special early adjustments, and was running when many other children were still holding onto their mother's skirts.
He loved his mother. She was beautiful to him, slender and graceful, with short dark hair, dark eyes and a voice that sang him to sleep. She made beautiful pots the old fashioned way, with clay gathered from the pool in the stream below where the village got water. Whether scolding or loving, she punished, not with a slap but with a look or, if he were extremely bad, with isolation on a stool in the corner of their little hut. She had grown used to his monster form, cold water being so easy to come by, and no longer feared him.
Once, soon after he turned five, he thought to overawe her with his strength. His monster form was taller than a man and stronger, and horns had begun to sprout from his brows. He wanted to go out and play, but he was being punished for a minor but important infraction that resulted in a broken pot. His mother firmly said, "No!"
He casually spilled some water across his arm and reared up, horrible and bellowing, expecting to cow her into submission. After all, that was what the larger children did with smaller ones (except him, of course) or what his godfather did using his aura to frighten the many robbers in the area. He looked down at her small form expectantly and saw determination, strength, love… and a tear.
The tear destroyed him. The tear told him of her disappointment more keenly than anything could, and he loved his mother. She always stood up for him, yet always held him accountable if he caused harm. If Happosai taught him the uses of strength, she taught him the restraints of honor, and honor to your parents is the first commandment in family life. If his godfather's training was too brutal, she defended Taro and repaired the hurt. He could never allow himself to disappoint her.
He fell to his knees and hugged her clumsily, trying all the while to make those ridiculous crane wings stay still least they cause more damage.
oOo
Happosai, despite the irritation of many of the women, had become a sort of village protector. But he was often away, saying he had two promising students he needed to oversee. During one of those absences, bandits attacked the village looking for loot and slaves. A pretty woman like Taro's mother was a prize all by herself. One of the bandits forced their way past the door and struck her down with an open handed blow intended to demoralize and punish her for resistance.
Taro attacked. Nearly six, he was already as skilled as many casual martial artists, enough so, that the bandit had a few bad minutes with him. They surged back and forth across the hut, the boy striking with linear power and diverting his opponent's powerful blows past their mark, to waste themselves on air. Then, the bandit pulled his knife. Happosai had taught him some things about knife fighting, but most of the disarming techniques he knew as yet, required surprise or leverage, both sadly lacking in the tight confines of the hut.
Several painful slashes later, desperate and bleeding, he despaired of survival. He heard the screams of the other villagers, the weeping of frightened women and children, the crackle of fire as some of the bandits began to burn what they could not take. He took a desperate chance, diving into the bandit's grasp and striking upward with a knife hand, his stiffened, calloused fingers were launched with all the power of his body. His target the tiny indentation below the bandits adams apple... He felt the icy kiss of steel sliding across his ribs, too sudden to hurt as yet, and felt the crunch as his hand struck home.
Then the heavy body collapsed across him, spasming, bearing him back against the potter's wheel and nearby the bowl of water to moisten the clay…
The water was cold. Screaming in pain from the knife wound, Monster Taro came bellowing to his feet, transformation and new strength launching the bandit across the room and through the wall beside the door. Outside, the laughter of the attackers stilled.
The whole door of the hut disintegrated as Taro burst out, bellowing at his opponents. His hand flicked out almost negligently, and a man went down. He roared and others sprinted away, screaming about demons. Raging, berserk, he charged the dozen or so who held the captives. Even armed with rifles as they were, they were in no condition to meet his attack or his terrible appearance and shots were fired with little consideration to aim.
It became a general rout. Bandits streamed away in terror, most having cast aside their weapons, charging pell-mell into the hills and vowing never to return again. Meanwhile, Taro roared in exaltation and bellowed and postured to reinforce their terror. Then, he returned proudly to the remains of his mother's home.
And victory became ashes. One of the uncaring bullets had struck through the thin wall of their house and had taken his mother away. The elders of the village counted a half dozen dead in the attack, including his mother, but to Taro, it was his whole world.
oOo
Happosai returned a week later. He found Taro near the stream where his mother used to gather the clay for the pots that had been the source of their income. There was a small clearing there beneath an old cherry tree that stood defiant against bamboo, brush and its smaller brethren. The boy sat facing the stream and the deep pool there, his head down and his shoulders slumped in misery.
"She was a beautiful and gracious lady, m'boy," the old man said, patting his shoulder, commiserating. Taro missed the tears that dampened the wrinkled old face. "The world is a darker place without her."
"Where were you, old man?" Taro sobbed. His face was without tears; he had wept them all away. "You could have done something!"
Happosai sadly shook his head. "If it was her time…"
"What are you talking about?" snarled Taro. "She's d-d-dead and I d-d-d-don't want her to be! I want her back!" He reached for Happosai, his five-year height topping the old man but Happosai easily flipped him over his head with his pipe and sat on his back, pinning him to the ground.
"The wheel has turned, boy. Life goes on." Taro groaned in anger and sorrow. The little freak wasn't even breathing hard. Happosai tamped tobacco into his pipe while Taro shifted and groaned, trying to get the diminutive martial artist off his back. Though smaller than the boy, Happi easily contained him. "So what do you want to do?"
"Kill them!" howled the boy. "Kill them all!" Aroused again, he beat the ground with his hard little fists.
"Just hunt them down and kill them?" Happosai sounded surprised. He hopped off the boy and watched him roll over, panting.
"Yes!" Taro's eyes lit with unholy glee at the thought.
"Hmmm…" Happosai sounded thoughtful. "I don't think you have much imagination." He poked at his pipe and sucked on it, then blew some smoke rings. "You'd track them through the woods, right?"
"Yes!"
"Discover where they live… Maybe a camp, but as likely as not, it is another village nearby," Happosai conjectured.
"Yes!"
"Get in your monster form, burst through the doors and rip their screaming heads off?"
"Yes!" Taro howled, "YES! That's exactly…"
"In front of their terrified wives and children, spattering their horrified faces with the blood of their husbands and fathers and brothers…" continued Happosai.
"…" Taro stared into a private hell.
"Maybe kill a few of them as well for irony and revenge." Happosai grinned thinly. "Sounds good kid! Let's go." He jumped toward the edge of the clearing. Taro didn't move. "We'll make 'em suffer!" The old man looked back over his shoulder."Hey, Pantyhose Taro! Get a leg on!" He said cheerfully. "We got some bandits to track and mayhem to plot! It won't get done laying around like that!"
Taro didn't move.
"C'mon! Maybe they got some good beer or food! We can tell all the kids and widows we leave alive, why their men are dead. I'm sure they'll understand…"
"SHUT UP!" Taro was on his feet, fists clenched, screaming in Happi's face. "I won't be like them! I hate what they are! But. I. Will. Stop. Them!"
Happosai had not moved from where he stood. He turned and gazed at the panting youth before him. Then he casually sucked on his pipe and blew another smoke ring at his face. "How?"
Taro went to the nearby stream and jumped in. Monster Taro surged out, bellowing, sending waves everywhere as he charged back up the bank to show that cold-hearted little bastard just what he could do.
Happosai promptly, and effortlessly threw him into a tree. "How did you say?" the little demon asked curiously. "Oh, that's right! You can't talk when you're like that. Why did you jump in the water, then?"
Taro tried to focus on the pair of upside-down Happosais that floated in his vision. His focus did not immediately improve as the little man came close and hunched down to look him in the eye.
"Taro, always there will be evil in the world, and no man no matter how sjilled or powerful can ever be there to save everyone who deserves it from that evil." Happosai sighed and took a puff of his pipe. "Maybe if I had been here, the bandits might have been stopped before they'd gotten so close, but bullets can fly far. If there had been a man of training among those fools, a bullet might have just as easily ended your life or mine. Your monster form is powerful, but hardly invulnerable." For emphasis he blew a smoke ring at Taro's muzzle, forcing a cough from the befuddled youngster.
Taro toppled onto his stomach and groaned. "Fmight efil…" he mooed at Happosai.
The little man smirked. "Fight evil, you said?" Taro nodded. "There are some who would declare to you, in all honesty, that I am evil. You ready to fight me?" Taro shook his head and groaned, not up to making distinctions. "Evil is part of Tao, or yin and yang, and therefore, part of everyone, so they're right. Now if you said you were going to fight for your friends, family and lifestyle, now that I could understand." Happosai's eyes took on a distant and lecherous look. "Ahhh, the pretty ladies…" As a puzzled look crossed the bovine features of the cursed boy, Happosai added, "And if you're wondering why I feel that way, you'll figure it out when you're older. But in the meantime, you need to add skill to the speed and agility training I've been putting you through."
Taro grew thoughtful. At five, he hardly understood why the other villagers got angry at Happosai. He staggered to his knees and gazed at the old man. "Teach…" He managed to force the word past his bovine vocal cords and lips.
Happosai stood quietly then reached his hands out. Taro placed his huge hairy palms and carefully took the extended grip. "Pantyhose Taro, I consent to take you as a student of my Art of Mutsabetsu Kakuto. From this day forward, I am your sensei and you are my student."
oOo
For the next two and a half years, Happosai was around almost constantly as he trained the fledgling warrior. He was strict as hell on forms and infuriating in some of his training methods. Taro was pushed to his limits and beyond while the women of the village sighed in aggravation as they went about their daily business. Their men grumbled but tried to ignore the little pervert. Happosai was a lot safer than the bandits. Unknown to Taro, Happi's presence in China allowed for the conception of two Tendos and a Saotome.
"Well my boy, I'm off," Happosai caroled, packing a bag with food and women's undergarments. "I've got to check up on those two students of mine in Japan. Who knows what trouble they've gotten into!"
Taro learned that while Happosai did not approve of killing, almost any other kind of villainy was all right in moderation. He would miss the training but not the panty raids and robbery that Happosai had begun to indulge himself in. (as well as try to force Taro to join in now that Taro's training was getting better) "Gonna knock them back into line?" Taro asked contemptuously.
"Heck, no! I want in on the fun!"
Happosai finished packing and stood in the doorway.
"When will you be back?" Taro asked. He had grown to dislike the old man. Especially since he discovered just how annoying people could be about a name. "I want to talk to you again about my name."
"And get more training in the Art," Happosai chuckled. "Well, don't be afraid to train where you can, boy. I'm not getting any younger."
"You're not planning on coming back?" Taro's eyebrow rose.
"What do you think?" They stared at one another.
"Huh, huh, huh, huh…!"
"Hee, hee, heh, heh…!"
"I'll be waiting for you, old man," Taro said when they finished laughing.
"See you in a few months!" Happi agreed.
oOo
Taro waited, training only in what he knew for a year. The local bandits knew better than to attack his village, but occasionally, someone new or someone desperate would try to attack one of his people when they were alone. Finally, he asked the village elders how he might learn martial arts yet still protect them. They had looked at one another, and then bowed and told him they would take care of it.
Two weeks later, a bored looking woman with long brown hair showed up at the village.
"All right, who's the budding martial artist protecting your village?" she asked. Taro took two steps forward.
"Right here."
She looked him over. "You're Taro, the fearsome warrior I've heard about?" Her smile suggested she was less than impressed.
Taro flushed but maintained his outward cool demeanor. "Care to find out?"
He didn't beat her, but it was close. He found out later that he was lucky. Amazons had some interesting customs and the idea of being married to someone three times his age…
"Your forms are fine, excellent, in fact," she told him. "I think your teacher must have had training from one of us." She looked him over from where she stood waist deep in the pool where he and his mother used to gather clay. She had no sense of modesty; he had no sense of shame. At eight, women didn't interest him, yet. She grinned playfully, anyway. "Why don't you join me?"
The pool was large; Taro was sweaty after their sparring. He shrugged and stepped into the water.
"Jusenkyo!" she exclaimed as monster-Taro swelled to existence.
She hadn't stayed to teach him much after that. She and other Amazons teased him for a few years with glimpses of techniques and sparring partners who seemed a little too prepared to lose. Apparently, Amazons were forbidden to instruct males too far in the Art, unless of course, they were Amazon husbands. They only made sure other villages with trade associations with them got some training in how to defend themselves. Their village was in a dangerous section of Quing Hai the PRC authorities had better things to do than protect a two-bit village.
"Find me a real teacher!" he demanded the elders. Damn Amazons! "I need to learn!"
oOo
It was over a year before the old monk stopped by on a journey from the Shao-lin. Taro had come running when he was told. Breathless with anticipation, he skidded to a stop before the old monk.
"Teach me!" he gasped.
The old man had nodded politely and waited for him to elaborate.
"My mother… My people…" Taro stopped and gave himself a ringing slap. He regained his composure and let out a slow breath.
"Please try again, young man," encouraged the thin old monk. "And please tell me everything."
Taro told, everything, including his Jusenkyo curse.
"How very interesting." The old monk had tugged at his beard and smiled faintly. "Which spring did you fall into?"
"Which one?" Taro blinked. "There are more?"
"Oh, yes, very many, each with their own tragic, or sometimes simply ridiculous story," the old man had said, eyes twinkling. "Spring of drowned hawk, spring of drowned twins, spring of drowned boy…"
"Mine is spring of drowned monster," Taro answered.
"Ha, ha, ha!" the monk laughed, a light happy sound. "But which monster? There are several springs that produce results that could be termed monstrous."
"Would you mind if I show you?" Taro asked almost shyly.
"It will be a new thing. No eyes are to old to see a new thing."
Afterwards, the man had walked around and around Taro eyeing the wings, examining the cloven hooves, peering at the eel that swayed like a tail behind him.
"Hmmm… Spring of Drowned Yeti Riding Yak, Carrying Eel and Crane," he told the boy after he returned to human form.
"MwwaaaH?" Taro had never thought about his curse in terms of why he looked the way he did.
"What can I say? The people who made the springs did some pretty silly things!" He laughed again, while Taro contemplated the idea that his horrible monster form was somehow… silly. He didn't like it. He frowned.
"Oooh! Such a scowl!" the old man smiled slyly. "You are proud of your curse. And you have had it since that old pervert, Happosai, baptized you in the spring?"
Taro scowled some more.
"I'll tell you a secret, young Taro. I too am cursed." Taro stopped scowling and stared. "Oh, yes… As a matter of fact I was traveling to Nicheiru to discuss the curse with them. The Joketsuzoku nominally control Jusenkyo."
"Those bitches," growled Taro after he used some hot water. He had never forgiven them for barely showing him their skill before withdrawing.
"Now, now… They have their reasons. The Joketsuzoku was formed by women so badly abused by men that they decided never to trust men again."
"All right… Idiots, then."
"Well…" The monk rolled his eyes drolly. "You may call me Citrus. I took that name when I took my vows at the Temple. I believe I will stay for a while."
For four years the monk remained, a welcome addition to the growing village. Taro trained hard in both forms at the old man's suggestion. He learned weapons forms as well as more advanced unarmed techniques. In an attempt to draw criticism by mocking it in advance, Taro adopted wearing a few loops of silk stockings around his middle like a belt. They made great garrotes and were good as slings as well.
Pantyhose Taro! Bandits were even more wary of the village than before. Citrus was quite willing to go in disguise as an ordinary villager, much to the discomfort of would be bandits.
Citrus was drinking from a ladle one day, when Taro noticed the water splashing on the monk's feet. The weather had been cold, but Citrus always went barefoot. Taro frowned. Come to think of it, he had never seen the monk wash despite his cleanly appearance. "I thought you said you were cursed?" he demanded. It made him uncomfortable to think Citris might have lied to him.
"I am!" Citrus insisted. "One of the drowned-man springs, I suppose. This is my cursed form. I was traveling to Joketsuzoku to find out what I was before. Pure curiosity, I suppose, but you know about that!"
"Bet it turns out you were a cat," Taro said grinning.
"Meow," Citrus chuckled.
"Why don't you just..." Taro motioned tipping water over his head.
Citrus shook his head. "Hot water is very painful for me for some reason. A very strange condition, you must admit, but I find even mildly warm water to be unbearable on my skin. He sighed at his tribulation, then grinned. "Inside is okay, though! To be without mulled wine or hot coffee or tea in a Bayan Harshan winter would be too cruel!"
They laughed together then. Citrus had turned Taro into a scholar as well as a martial artist. His curiosity had him wondering about the stars and the fish in the streams and the engineering of waterwheels (China had built one of the first). Everything was grist for the mill.
oOo
One day, walls were the objects of discussion.
"You would think walls would be built in a logical manner," Citrus said, "with the largest stones on the bottom. But everywhere, walls I see are built either like puzzles or with big stones, then little ones, followed by another row of big ones, followed by… Well, you see what I mean. The only thing I understand is that the base must be wider than the top!" He shrugged. "But if I ask anyone 'why?' they say, 'We always do it that way'!"
Taro shrugged. "Tradition is a powerful force. Consider my problem with my name." Taro, at fifteen, was still stinging from the various ways young women of the village had rebuffed him. Here he was, a top martial artist and the village protector and the girls either giggled and shook their heads or hid indoors when he came courting. He blamed it on his name. The idea that his useful monster form might be at fault never crossed his mind.
"Tradition is like an old shoe that grows so thin you feel the stones of the road, yet so familiar you can't stand the idea of breaking in something new," Citrus declaimed with solemnity.
Laughing, they turned a corner and walked right into a woman bringing out a pot of tea for workers in the fields. The tea sloshed.
"Oh, please forgive me! I didn't…"
Then she screamed.
"Free…" came a low guttural voice. Citrus straightened and became taller. He turned, and Taro blanched. Citrus was still an old man, but a very dangerous looking old man, nearly two meters tall, broad shoulders and hands like grapples. Citrus always had thin curving scars on his arms. In this form, they were broad, raw looking welts that told of a terrible conflict. He shook those hands at the sky and laughed long and loud, a sound that chilled his listeners. "After sixty years…"
"Citrus?" Taro was not amused. All of the warning bells were going off in his head.
"Hah! Forget that puking little man. I am once again, Blood Claw, Warlord of the Bayan Hara!" He held up his marked arms and his nostrils flared, as he lustily took a deep breath. "I am strong, Taro. Even as a young buck I matched a tiger hand to hand and got these. Sixty years ago I could have shown you his teeth and claws. Strong… But I was betrayed.Young Taro! I need a strong man as my second, to watch my back. Those damned Amazons could never take both of us…" The cruel voice turned wheedling. "Between us, we could control the entire Quing Hai Province in a matter of months. Even the Chinese in Beijing would eventually give in if we send them their cut! What do you say?"
"What spring?" Taro was momentarily stunned by the sheer arrogance and charisma of the man.
"Spring of the puking Drowned Righteous Man, dammit!" the other exclaimed. "Those damned Amazons thought locking me in that form would effectively kill me! But I am strong. For sixty years I've lurked in the monks dreams, and slowly felt their damned 'Cat's Tongue Tsubo get weaker and weaker.
"He knew it too! Blood Claw snarled. "Which is why he was heading back to the damned Warrior Women! Of course they never told him about me. And they sent him off to the Shao-Lin to learn to 'atone for my sins'… Hah!" The evil looking old man smirked and flexed the tendons in his powerful hands. "Damn their prissy ways and pious mouthings! Still, the Shao-lin know how to train warriors, don't they?" He thumped Taro on the chest. "You wait, Taro. Citrus wouldn't have taught you the deeper secrets – but play your cards right and you will know true power."
A crowd was gathering, listening in confusion. Blood Claw turned to this audience.
"Who does not want power?" Blood Claw bellowed. Whatever else he was, he crackled with charisma. "You have suffered from the villages around you. Suffered from their greed and suffered from their envy!" There was absolute silence. "You break your backs, day after day, bearing your loads to feed your families, never knowing when one of your nearby friends will decide it would be easier to take what you worked for."
There were mutters. Taro caught several robbers as they entered their homes in other villages. They had been forced to pay in replaced goods and labor for their injured victims, or were turned over to the government for trial if murder had been the result.
"Take first!" Blood Claw snarled. "You are hunter or hunted, and I can make you strong! All the secrets of the Shao-Lin are mine! We will conquer!"
"No." The rejection came out in an angry shout.
Blood Claw turned and scowled at Taro, angry at the interruption and trying to dominate him with a look. "I thought you were smarter, boy."
"You forgot what I told Citrus. What I told Happosai long ago. I will never be like one of you!"
"Too bad." Blood Claw's hand reached out and opened negligently. "No hard feelings, boy." Light seemed to swirl in the arc of his fingers. "Here… let me show you what Citrus would have held back."
Taro snatched at a nearby object, sensing the need for a shield against an attack unlike any he had ever known. He crouched, began to dodge…
(BLAM!)
A ball of energy, like lightning, leaped out of those outstretched fingers and ripped through the air at him. It shattered the heavy clay water jar and boiled the water inside in a flash. Then, it blasted him back through the wall Citrus and he had been examining and out into the field beyond.
Turning away, Blood Claw raised his fists high and sent bolt after bolt into the air. "I AM YOUR NEW LEADER! I AM BLOOD CLAW! YOU WILL FOLLOW ME TO GLORY! …Or you can die right here! Who is with me?"
Taro groaned in pain out in the field. What the hell had that been? He groaned with the pain of his injuries and the pain of hearing the villager's tremulous voices raised to join Blood Claw's army. His hand fell into a puddle and he changed.
The pain was horrible, but he knew if he made any noise, Blood Claw would hear and finish him off. He had to stop him. For his mother, for Citrus and for himself... He staggered to his knees. Blood Claw demonstrated his power by blasting the old small truck they used as a tractor. It had taken them days to get it overland from the nearest road. Those blasts were powerful. He would need something to throw, something big. His horny, callused hand found one of the blocks he had dislodged in his flight, a big rock — thirty or forty kilograms. He tried to pick it up.
"You still alive, boy?" Blood Claw had noticed him. In his pain, Taro had forgotten just how hard it was to hide a ton of monster in an open field. "Don't worry!" he said cheerfully. "I can fix that!"
Blood Claw stepped through the hole in the wall and advanced into the field. The boy's monster form looked in bad shape and the old bandit/warrior decided he would have little trouble killing him with his bare hands. Besides, he had wasted a lot of energy with his demonstrations. If somewhere inside, a pure old man cried out against his intent, he gave no sign. He laughed as he came, confident and strong.
"Blood Claw?" Taro tried to mumble but he never could speak right in this form. 'Catch!' he thought and poured everything he had left into picking up that stone and hurling it.
Ten meters away, Blood Claw saw the movement and set himself expecting an attack. The missile startled him. He couldn't conceive of how, one-handed, even Monster-Taro could pick up something like that and throw it. Not at that speed! He raised his hands to use the Shao-Lin ki-techniques and realized too late, he had nothing left fuel them. The rock took him in the face as he tried to duck. He cartwheeled twice in midair and came to rest on his back, eyes staring at the sky.
"Mmmrawwa!" Taro roared as loud as he could and made motions with his good hand. The other villagers at first didn't approach, afraid and guilty about how they had acted. Then the woman who had spilled the tea stepped out and ran across the ground to pour warm water over them both, realizing that she was dealing with a Jusenkyo curse, but not understanding the nature of it.
"Cold water for him," gasped Taro. "Quickly!" Blood Claw's eyes were beginning to focus and he never wanted to see or talk to that evil man again.
They poured carefully and Citrus shimmered back into being. "Citrus?" Taro spoke softly. He wondered at the tightness in his chest. Somehow it was more than his own injuries. "Do you remember?"
"My goodness! What happened? I remember that little woman coming out of the house then… Something bad has happened?" His pupils wandered this way and that, but Taro could tell they no longer saw this world.
"A… a wall fell on us," Taro lied. He could see the other was dying. He was amazed the brain inside the skull allowed coherent thought. "I guess it wasn't quite right despite traditions, huh?"
"What did I tell you?" Citrus' voice sounded full and confident. Then more softly, "Is the woman all right?"
"I am safe, honored one," she whispered a few steps away.
"All is well then." Citrus' matter of fact statement scraped at Taro's heart. A heart he thought had died with his mother.
"It's not all right!" he snarled. "You're…"
"Dying? We all do, my son." His voice was gentle even though his eyes had become blank as death drew near. "Still, I would have liked to at least known what I was."
"You are, and will always be, a monk of the Shao-lin," whispered Taro. What else could he say? Why make Citrus' last moments more painful…
"Ahhhh…" Citrus' voice sighed out, and Taro thought it was the end. Then the voice continued, weaker, "Now you have taught me wisdom, my son. It is good…"
oOo
Taro mended. He found that his monster form could breath water and that immersed, his healing progressed far more rapidly than on land. There came the day, above a high cliff, deep in the mountains, when he chose to test the last power of his transformed self. If he succeeded, he would be supreme on land, sea and in the air. He could feel the wind roaring up the side of the cliff and see a nearby eagle soaring. He posed like a high diver and leaped into space.
He fell like a rock.
At first he simply stretched out those wings, trying to soar as the large birds did. He wasn't too afraid. Below was a deep lake, perfect for landing if things went wrong…
…Except even though he was falling, the wind was blowing him off course! He was getting aimed right at a stand of bamboo. He could even see a stupid panda getting lunch! He had seen what could happen to a person after a long fall onto straight spear-like plants like those! He had no desire to be monster shish-ka-bob!
He beat madly at the wind with his crane wings. Who cared if they weren't engineered for this kind of thing! Do or die! He thought of the speed drills he had done with Citrus and tried to apply them to the wings. Buzzing like a gigantic horsefly he fell toward the bamboo…
…Which fell away as his wings caught the right rhythm and sent him tearing across the lake at a speed far greater than he had believed possible. He soared into the air, exultant! He was alive! He was powerful! Nothing could stop him now! After a few hours of experimentation, he returned in triumph to his village.
oOo
"I… I am sorry Taro, but I cannot accept your kind offer. Please forgive…"
The door shut tightly and frightened whispers quieted as he stood in the dark and contemplated his life. He was young. He was strong. He was intelligent. Everyone in the village came to him for help about engineering, crops, building and philosophy. They came to him when they needed physical help as well, of course.
His monster form was magnificent; his human form comely, with its foxy chin and long eyelashes. His violet eyes had been commented on from time to time with great favor. On a recent trip to an old ruin he found the scaled vest and bracers that he now made part of his costume. The darn scales were light, but hard enough to turn bullets. They matched his eyes and he felt he looked dangerous and sexy. If his ears served him right when the girls talked, they thought that way as well, yet they would not welcome him into their homes.
"Damn that old pervert for never coming back!" At twenty-two, Taro was a most unhappy and frustrated man. He could not bring himself to threaten his people, no matter how angry they made him. "If only my name weren't…"
"Pantyhose Taro…"
Taro spun, his senses searching the night. Was that? That was the pervert! Old Happosai! …Or his ghost.
"Happosai! Come out and face me if you're not afraid!" He couldn't find him. Maybe it was his ghost, or a trick of the wind.
"You've grown, boy." Happosai seemed to congeal out of the darkness. "Miss me?"
"Like plague and drought," answered the young man. "Where the hell have you been all these years?"
Happosai shrugged. "I got tied up," he said enigmatically. "The village has changed a bit."
That was an understatement. When Taro had been a baby, the village had boasted twenty-four family dwellings. Now, over one hundred families lived together, in some cases the result of Taro forcing former bandits to relocate to insure they repaid the damages assessed them, in others the remnants of small villages like Taro's, joining them for the greater safety. Just one week ago, representatives of the government in Beijing had come to discuss a connecting road to the railway, forty kilometers away. Soon there would be an official presence in the village. Taro shrugged.
Everyone else was happy about that, despite his voiced reservations. They didn't understand that the PRC would collect taxes, poke into lives and inform them all how they should live. But Taro didn't have the political clout or connections the Amazons did, to encourage the government to ignore them.
Since the death of his mother, he had been the village guardian, sixteen… almost seventeen years. The latest response was not encouraging to him. He suspected they would be coming to him in about six months to complain about the new restrictions and taxes and laws, and there would be little he could do without destroying them all.
"Yeah," he said finally. "A bit…" He eyed the little freak. He didn't remember Happosai being that small or that old looking. "You sticking around this time?"
"Nope! Too much to do," the old man chortled. "Just stopped by to pay my respects to my godson! Now I'm off to Japan, again. You'll probably never see me again."
"What about my name you old toad?" Taro growled dangerously.
"What about it?" Happosai twirled his pipe around and looked at Taro speculatively.
"It's interfering in my life. I want you to change it."
"Change it yourself!" Happosai snorted. "I think I'll take a spin around the village before I go and see if the girls are as pretty as they once were."
"I didn't say you could go, old man," Taro said flatly. "This is my town, now, and I don't like perverts messing with my people."
"Oh? Your private, preserve, huh? Well I suppose a young buck like you must have a pretty good harem set up by now!" Happosai chortled. "All the best lovelies gathered together in one place!" He rubbed his hands together. "Lead me to 'em!"
"What are you talking about?" Taro asked uneasy. "That's the problem! With my name, who wants to be associated with me?" He flung his arms wide in negation. "I go court the girls and they either die of giggles when I say I'm Pantyhose Taro, or they go all quiet and scared and lock their doors in my face!" He scowled at Happosai. "It's pretty damn frustrating to spend all my time helping everyone then have them treat me like I'm some damn animal!"
"Taro, Taro, Taro…" Happosai shook his head sadly. "You've obviously neglected all my training. Not surprising, given how long I was gone… You aren't using that brain of yours." Happosai suddenly tapped his pipe out on Taro's head.
"Hey!" Taro swept the ashes aside and upped his look to an angry glower. "What did you do that for?"
"The problem with teaching philosophy and ethics, is that the teacher can teach himself blue in the face, but unless the student discovers the answers for himself, he cannot make them his own!" Happosai grunted and picked up his pack. He turned away, ignoring Taro's growing irritation.
"Get back here!" Taro roared. Happosai laughed and danced away from Taro's lunge. "Little creep! You're gonna change my name!"
"How are you gonna make me, slowpoke?"
There began a furious dash through the town, Happosai using any path he wanted, including heads, to stay just out of reach of Taro, and Taro lunging after the little pervert as he dashed here and there, flipping skirts, glomping bosoms, and creating a rising wave of panic.
Taro saw the little freak focus on a girl he was particularly fond of, a cute busty raven-haired girl named Chou Meh. The girl screamed as the bald headed guided missile suddenly attached itself to her chest and began squeezing and rubbing his bald head on her attributes. Taro roared in anger and lunged through the excited crowd. In a way, part of his mind thought, this could be good. Save Chou Meh and then comfort her as her defender. Maybe he could get some appreciation after all! He snatched at the little monster.
He froze as the softness that filled his hands told him it was definitely not Happosai! His hard warrior's hands were filled instead with the softness of Chou Meh's breasts. He'd never touched a girl there before and the feeling was… was… He felt a tickle at his nose. His fingers twitched without his will.
"Pervert! (SLAP!)"
Taro was rocked sidewise by an impressive open-handed cross he never saw coming. It brought him back to the business at hand, so to speak.
"Sorry! So sorry!" he babbled, staring at her chest, his fingers on fire. Not knowing what else to say he added, "They're very nice though and…"
"Molester!" Chou Meh added a small pot to her accusation, which Taro ducked. "Pantyhose Taro!" she added with contempt. He winced at the rejection.
"GODDAMN YOU, HAPPOSAI" yelled Taro, spinning away. He saw the little monster unconcernedly dodging swings of a huge knife wielded by Chin Tau Pin who had once been a robber, but now ran a meat stall. He was finishing off a plate of treats the man used to help attract business. "You little…" He charged.
He grabbed for Happosai and found he was falling into the path of Chin's knife, he jerked away only to receive a contemptuous stinging slap from Happosai. He lunged again at where the little monster seemed to be relaxing, and had to duck Chin's knife, only to find himself in the path of Happosai's foot. He attacked…
Taro finally yelled and snatched the lethal cleaver out of Chin's hand and tried to turn Happosai into cold cuts. The dwarf martial artist picked up a sausage and dueled with him, snapping thin slices of the meat out of the air with his mouth as Taro whittled it down. Finally, the sausage was gone and Happosai seemed backed into a corner. Taro unleashed a vicious riposte…
…And found Happosai gone and the main support for the canopy of the shop sliced cleanly in half by his blow.
"HAPPOSAI!" Taro's frantic bellow as he tried to find his way from under the enveloping cloth was met with the old man's laughter, standing on the cursing head of one of the town's councilmen.
"You've gotten better, Taro," Happosai laughed. "I'll grant you that. Much better than I expected really; but still not good enough, to beat me. If I'd known what I know now, I might have dipped you in a different spring when I baptized you."
"What are you talking about you slimy little ball of shit?" Taro tore the canopy in half and kicked free of the rest of the hampering material.
"All this time I've been away is on account of my two ungrateful students back in Japan. They found women to marry and conspired against me, locking me in a cave for years. Their children are interesting, though, especially the one with the Jusenkyo curse. I think I'll make him my heir! He's much better than you."
"Son of a bitch!" Taro charged again and they were off, leaving a councilman somewhat trampled. Soon the market was in an uproar as Happosai led Taro a merry chase up and down the street before ducking into a shop.
"Bi-da!" Happosai gave him a red-eye as he ducked in. Taro charged in after him, his focus as completely on Happosai as he could manage, hoping to avoid any further traps.
Except the whole shop was a trap! It was the shop and warehouse for the town's new cottage industry of fine china and glass, and Happosai was only meters away with a bucket in his hand. Taro tried to back-pedal but it was far too late.
(splooosh…! …B-DAAAM! CHASHHSH! Tinkle, tinkle…")
"Well it was fun, Pantyhose Taro! I'm off to Japan. Look me up sometime, hey?" With a cackle, Happosai was gone.
oOo
Taro stood relaxed and unconcerned before the emergency council meeting called in the marketplace that evening. Four Councilmen sat in judgment behind a battered aluminum, folding table covered with a clean cloth. The fifth member of the council was not attending. He was still recovering from Happosai and Taro's fight. Taro was thinking furiously about what Happosai had said during their fight. So, the old freak's new student and heir was a Jusenkyo 'graduate', too?
The chief councilman called the meeting to order with a cowbell. "We are here to discuss the incredible display of violence and destruction that happened today because of a disagreement within a family of our community. We are speaking of Pantyhose Taro and his godfather, Happosai, who recently returned from overseas. Several people were hurt and there was much property damage. There are numerous complaints of women molested."
Taro frowned. Where was he headed with this? It wasn't his fault the freak of nature had returned.
"You in particular, Taro, are responsible for the destruction of Chin Tau Pin's meat shop and the obliteration of nearly a year's worth of porcelains and glassware that were to be shipped to the railroad tomorrow for sale. That shipment would have put us on the map!"
"And a pretty penny into Sung's pocket," Taro heard someone mutter. "It was Sung's shop." Taro suddenly knew where this was going and began seeing red.
"How will you repay the damages, Taro? You do nothing that contributes to the community except a little manual labor from time to time!"
"You are saying my protection is no longer necessary to the community?" Taro asked softly.
"What good did it do?" Sung shouted. "You actually caused more damage! Just what did you accomplish?"
"He got his hands on Chou Meh's melons," Taro heard someone snicker.
"And what nice ones she has," offered another comedian. They subsided at his glare, but he saw the look on Chou Meh's face. She heard the comments too, and any hope of romance was gone.
"I had to try to stop him, Councilman. If I had sat back and let him go, I'm sure everyone would be wondering if I offered my godfather run of the place."
"How are you going to pay for the damages?" howled Sung, purpling as the others sat there, heads bobbing in agreement. Something in Taro snapped.
"How's this offer?" Taro said quietly. "I won't kill you."
The meeting, which had been getting noisy, went still.
"W-w-what?" squeaked the pale Council leader. "You won't…"
"I won't kill you for your insults, for your inhospitality all these years while I have protected this place," Taro elucidated. "I won't kill you, Sung, as I might have when I dragged your slimy carcass here after you beat and robbed old Shang Sou. You paid the price we set and seemed pretty happy that we didn't kill you or torture you to death, Sung, and the same goes for Chin Tau Pin." He looked around and smelt the wave of fear that suddenly surged in the place. "You say the shipment would put this town on the map? Where would this town have been without me, Sung? We were twenty-four huts when I lost my mother to scum like you." No one met his eyes.
"Where would you have been when poor Citrus turned into Blood Claw? He would have packed you all off to fight and die for his power and taken any woman he wanted. Where would you have been, Chou Meh?" He turned and looked at her. "You made it plain you don't want me, Chou Meh, and I respect that. Could you have done that with Blood Claw? I doubt he would have offered marriage."
Chou Meh clutched her arms about her tighter and muttered 'Pantyhose Taro' loud enough to be heard. There was a sucking in of breath. Taro wasn't happy about his name in the best of times. But Taro didn't explode. In some ways, that was worse. He turned away, as if at the sight of something foul. "In some ways, I suppose it's for the best," he sighed. "When the government people get here with their laws and regulations you'll find out how much you've lost. You probably would have gotten me mixed up in that, too. Feh! I can see it's past time to go."
He turned on his heel and walked out of the circle, the people straining away least someone do something to bring his anger to the surface.
"But what about my porcelains and glass?" cried out Sung, as he stood, ineffectual and small, behind the old folding table.
Taro stopped and half turned, the glimmer of light in his eyes speaking more eloquently than any words. Sung collapsed into his chair and Taro stepped into the darkness. Moments later a bass hum sounded and a minotaur-like shape lifted into the night sky. Behind him, voices rose in recrimination and anger, but Taro no longer cared.
He had never worried about money and knew his geography. Master, or at least advanced student, of air, land and sea, Taro made his way first to Jusenkyo. After all, Happosai had never told him his address in the Land of the Rising Sun, nor given the names of his students. The guidebook would prove useful. Then in easy stages he crossed China to Beijing. He spent little time in the ancient capital of the land but pressed on along the coast and down into the Koreas. He had several adventures along the way, including an encounter with South Korean military jets, but managed to push on.
His name kept him moving, preventing him from finding a place along the way. He just couldn't bring himself to give his name, anticipating the laughter and rejection to follow. His crossing of the sea was largely inconsequential, though he probably gave a few ship captains nightmares.
The one incident that made a permanent impression came when he decided to fish on the way. He found shortly after he had learned to fly that fish were an ideal food for his monster body. His teeth were more like the yeti's omnivorous maw than the yak jaw they were set in. Both his eel genes and crane genes fed on fish as a life-style. He skimmed the surface of the sea, his sharp eyes catching sight of fish moving on the surface. He dipped closer to the waves and extended his hard hands to cup forward like claws…
(WACK!)
He felt a large fish catch on his extended fingers and bounce off his knees before dropping back into the water. Disappointed, Taro almost flew on, then on a whim turned back to see if he could make another pass at the school. His prey, weighing thirty kilos, twitched stunned on the surface. Taro grinned and dove down.
He snatched the fish from the surface and simultaneously felt a shock as if something had tried to grab his catch. He brought the fish up before his eyes and gulped. The head and part of the body just behind the gills was gone, cleanly severed by a sharp but ragged instrument. He circled, trying to see what had happened.
Around the outer edges of the school, long graceful forms prowled, some nearly as long as he was tall. He had read about sharks but never really expected to see one. Here were dozens, come to feast on the bounty the school represented. One had also targeted his fish for a meal. He buzzed closer to examine the predators.
"Hmm, blues (long slender sharks), makos (tense, stocky sharks with pointy noses and powerful bursts of speed), and oceanic white tips (built heavier than the Makos, but with immense wing-like fins that made Taro think of jet planes)." He decided to eat on the fly and avoid setting down in the water. He had an idea that being bitten by one of those things would be unpleasant.
He was exhausted by the time he made the coast Japan. He spent his first night under a wharf on the island of Tsushima near Kyushu. In the morning, rested, he went in search of humans and hot water. He found both, but the humans didn't stick around. Human again, he went elsewhere and began to ask questions.
At a small library, he found what he was looking for — microfilm storage of three of the biggest newspapers printed in Japan. He had been astonished at the number of people who had somehow visited Jusenkyo and received curses. Nearly three dozen were scattered across the length and breadth of the islands. Unless he wanted his search to take years, he had to narrow it down. He began looking in certain years for unusual criminal activity involving women and women's underwear. He found individual reports all over Japan, but most were centered about Tokyo. Of that group, the most recent, had been in Nerima Ward. He checked the guest list he had taken from the Jusenkyo Guide and smiled.
His subsequent battles with Ranma Saotome and his allies were exhilarating. He had never used the Art in anything but serious attack and defense. Ranma inadvertently taught him the adrenaline rush of meeting a worthy foe in joyous battle and provoking the sex-changing martial artist to fight his best was a worthy goal and the provocation was not entirely one-sided. The octopus tentacles he had added before returning to Nerima the second time had been of mixed benefit. Their tendency to try to pull him into any tight crevasse if undirected had been unexpected. Nor had his attempt to inspire Happosai as Blood Claw had been inspired borne fruit. Spring of drowned twins – brrrr! And he still couldn't believe he had thought those stupid back-magnets of Rouge's might be something special. But though all of his plans to date in gaining a hold over Happosai had been a bust, it had been rewarding in other ways.
Taro had an odd fascination in experiencing combat with Ranma. His girl-form was so damn pretty it hurt to watch the smooth flow of block and counter, the rush of combat almost translated to a mating urge – Which he restrained. He would never allow himself to do that, even when he eventually managed to defeat Saotome. It was too… wrong! Then there was one of Saotome's many fiancées, Akane Tendo…
She looked like his mother. She was so much like his mother, kind and firey in a blink, but always determined, that it did hurt to watch her, though in a different way. He had broken off that first fight with Ranma and kidnapped her mostly because of that resemblance. He couldn't bring himself to tell her, though, and the twin attraction of Ranma and Akane kept drawing him back, would have drawn him back with or without Happosai.
Then Happosai promised him a new name if he acquired an object called the 'Kinjakan'. He even told him where it was and warned him of some of the dangers. Taro shuddered at the thought of the eggs the bird people used to enslave their opponents, but to rid himself of his horrible curse…
oOo
He had cased the place, easily avoiding the winged guards. There had obviously been some recent damage. Many of the inhabitants were involved in repairing the palace that surmounted Mt. Phoenix's peak. The throne room was heavily guarded and he saw not one staff, but two, flanking an empty throne. Which was Kinjakan? Hmmm… As busy as the place was, the forces at the palace were actually drawn a bit thin. The key seemed to be the daily cycle of activity. Everyone was busiest at dawn, many of the strange winged humanoids involved in gathering wood and foodstuffs from the surrounding fields and forests. He watched covertly, quickly noting the affinity they had for birds as well. The area resembled an ant hive when the winged male and new queens departed. Dawn might not be the best time to act.
As the day wore on, he was at first puzzled at the rapid disappearance of the winged folk and the appearance of rather handsome humans, who worked the fields and walked the pathways as they tended the crops and herds on the mountainside. Were they peasants or slaves to the winged people?
Then by chance he saw one of the Phoenix mountain folk dump cold water over themselves. 'Nanniichuan!' he thought furiously. They have Jusenkyo curses to hide from normal humans. He noticed that there were fewer and fewer winged forms as the day came to a close. He suspected that like birds, they didn't like to fly at night. He would strike then, tomorrow, at dusk.
Taro watched for his chance and weakened one of the recently repaired walls to the point of collapse, bracing it with struts he could knock away. He gauged the path the wall would take down the mountainside. Only two small houses in the danger from his action and they were close enough to the throne room to draw attention.
He backed off out of sight and waited. As the sun dipped over the ridge, he yanked on the lanyard that released the straining boulders and then banged on the door of the first house. "Everybody out!" he shouted. "Landslide!" Two young humans carrying a child slammed out the door. "Head that way!" he yelled directing them out the slides path. A leap and he was at the second house's door. "Landslide!" he yelled over the rumbling growl of his diversion. He banged on the door again. "Hey! Get out now…"
"Just a moment, young man," quavered a voice. A wrinkled winged woman pulled the door open.
"Is anyone else inside?" Taro shouted, sweating. He hadn't considered septuagenarians in his plans. The rumbling grew louder.
"No…"
"Great! Let's get you outa here!" She squawked as he gathered her up and leaped away. He set her down with the young couple from the first house and the growing crowd of spectators. The stones banged into the legs of the first house, cracking one with an explosive pop. The house twisted and he felt a twinge of guilt as the young woman wailed at the damage to her dwelling. He steeled his heart and ran silently up the mountainside as the disturbance drew away a significant number of the inhabitants from surrounding houses and the palace above.
It was easy to slip in a back way and sneak up on the old man who seemed to be the only guardian left. "Where is Kinjakan, old man," he growled threateningly, grabbing Saffron's chief advisor by the throat. The old man was surprisingly resilient.
"What do you want to know for, groundling?" he snarled gamely.
"My business!" Taro glanced at the two metal staves only meters away. He dragged the old man with him. "Which one?"
The old man got a sly look on his face. "My business, groundling. And don't think you can take both and get away with it."
Taro flushed. "Fine then! I will take both!" He thrust his prisoner back towards the throne, then quickly reached out to grasp first one, then the other staff. He missed the expectant glitter in the old man's eyes.
He didn't miss the gasp of shock as the old man boggled at Taro looking curiously at his prizes. Taro glared and glanced out the window. They were on the mountain's western side. The sun was now a mere glow behind the jagged horizon, the palace lay in deepening shadow alleviated only by lamp light and torches as the inhabitants prepared for the coming night. The Chinese martial artist tucked the rods under his arm and saluted the old man as he backed up to a window. He didn't know what was bothering the old fool, but he wouldn't argue with the advantage it gave him.
He cursed as the old man shot off down the corridors screaming that Kinjakan was being stolen. Taro made a swift exit, only immediately have to defend against a pair of egg-wielding guardians. He caught the dangerous weapons in the pantyhose he wore around his waist, and slung them back at the winged warriors. Dumping cold water over his head from a thermos, he didn't stick around to see if the hypnosis thing actually worked.
In Japan, he had difficulty in finding Happosai at first. Apparently Ranma had really trashed him and he was lying low. He fiddled with the staffs, and discovered that prongs on the base of one fit into holes in the base of the other. He almost dropped it when the staff flared and seemed to weld itself together. He cautiously examined the result, and soon found that the staff boosted his rudimentary ki abilities. After a week, he could, even without its assistance, throw fire, electrical blasts and erect a plane of force that acted like a shield. With Kinjakan, or whatever it was…
Authorities briefly wondered if a remote volcano in northern Japan was becoming active again.
Upon returning to Tokyo he had finally located the freak. Happosai had smiled, nodded and declared he would change Pantyhose Taro's name: to Lacy Darlings. The language with which Taro commented on his new name is immaterial, but pungent. He attacked Happi, of course. The staff made a great flame-thrower. Taro tried to torch the little pest, but Happosai was fast and tricky. As he fled, he suggested that he had reached an agreement with Ranma and his fiancée, training them in advanced ki techniques and martial arts in return for certain favors.
It was another trick of course, but Taro had already run into the new improved Akane with shocking results and the story fit his worst expectations. The thought that the martial artist he most admired and the woman he secretly idolized had… had become sex-toys in return for training revolted him and he had over-reacted.
He used the staff, which he now called Taochinpang as well as his considerable skills, in fighting against Ranma, destroying the Saotome home, attacking and injuring Ranma and then kidnapping Akane again. Somehow Ranma came back, rescued Akane and suckered him into an ambush. Unfortunately, things went wrong for the Nerima crowd and Taro reacted violently to the unexpected attack, torching everything around, including Akane, Ukyo, Shampoo, Mousse, Cologne, Genma, Soun and a visiting martial artist called Ryu Kumon. Ranma had countered using a devastating move that had surely killed them both.
Now Taro floated on this sea of black, waiting his sentencing from the Judges of the Dead. He was calm but resigned. Everything he had ever committed himself to, gone in a single, senseless act of violence. He deserved to have his spirit sundered and scattered to the winds, never to be reborn again. He almost hoped the Christian Dante was right about Hell. He felt it would be justified to spend an eternity immersed in a lake of blood or fire. He could not forgive himself for the pain he caused or the lives he sundered in violation of the oath he'd made so long ago…
He heard the voices again. It sounded like Ranma and Akane, discussing their future… their love? Fem-boy would never have the guts to… Well, now Ranma would never have the chance to, either. The voices wavered in and out of his hearing, tantalizing and torturing him. Was this the divine punishment, hearing the dreams he had destroyed? He wanted to weep to cry out, to scream and beg someone, anyone, for another chance. Not for him, but for them.
Then something touched him, hot and burning as a flame, and sensation rolled through him like a tidal wave. He gasped and felt air move in his lungs, searing and cold, making him cough painfully. He shivered, becoming aware of how cold it was, and the tingling that was spreading throughout his body.
"Hey, Taro! Wake up, man! I really don't wanna hafta drag yer butt to the bathroom."
'Ranma's voice.' Taro could feel his eyes again. He blinked, the dim light here achingly bright to his eyes, but he could see a little. He focused with difficulty and found a blurry form to his right. "Whhhhat…" he breathed out, his throat raw.
"Take it easy, man," Ranma said. The other's voice was calm. When he last heard that voice, it had hissed Taro's name in loathing and anger and despair.
"I'm sorry," Taro whispered. He had to let Ranma know. "I'm so sorry."
Ranma sighed. "I have a feeling that there's a lot more to this than you goin' nutso and tryin' ta burn down Mom's house and half the city. Are ya gonna give us any more trouble?"
"No," Taro whispered.
"Akane and I'll help ya up…"
"Akane?" Taro gasped. His head flopped sidewise and suddenly her stern, beautiful features came into view, her shoulder under his, her body warm through her clothes against his skin. "You're alive?" A tear trickled down his cheek and she looked away embarrassed. Ranma was quick to see his distress and, Taro thought, misinterpret it. Ranma thought he was hitting on the dark-haired girl.
"Jeez, man, I know those stupid tsubo point things Cologne does can hurt wearin' off. Don't lose it, okay?" They supported him through the doors to the bathroom and sat him down. "Get lost, Akane, I'll wash him off and get him in the furo."
Ranma efficiently stripped him and dumped the clothes in a bucket. When Taro's hands proved too numb to hold the sprayer, the other began the long tortuous process of spraying him off with hot water and rubbing feeling back into his limbs. Taro winced as those ministrations also stimulated pain in the massive bruising covering his body. The ringing in his ears didn't help, either. As the feeling came back, he took over cleaning himself and stiffly doing a final rinse.
"I thought she was dead… That we all were dead," whispered Taro.
"Yeah?" Ranma supported him, stumbling, over to the furo and lowered him in. "I guess I got a little nuts, too. Appearances can be deceivin'." Ranma watched him carefully as he in turn cleaned off with hot water then joined Taro in the hotter water of the big basin. "You were lucky, man. Nobody got hurt or killed …this time. If you'da hurt Akane…"
"I would have deserved it." Taro mumbled. "Saotome, I need to know. How did Akane get so good? And where did you people learn the ki techniques you used?"
"I'm a good teacher," Ranma shrugged easily. "Akane's a damn good student, though I'll ask ya not to repeat that. As for the ki techniques…" Ranma flushed and sank lower in the tub. "Well, let's just say it was a cooperative effort between a bunch of us here in Nerima." He watched curiously as Taro flushed angrily beneath his injuries.
"That bastard, Happosai," snarled Taro. "I should have known!"
"The old fart tricked ya again?" Ranma concluded. "I sorta figured that. What did he tell ya?"
"That you two had become his sex-toys in return for training in ki techniques."
Ranma looked shocked then disgusted. "Man, how could you think that? I mean…"
"And he said he'd rename me if I got him Kinjakan."
"Whoa!" Ranma looked confused, then angry. "But ya had Kinjakan… and Gekkaja for that matter. Ya mean he went back on his word?" Ranma was astonished. Happosai was many things but he usually at least conformed to the letter of his word. Then he saw Taro's face. "Uh-oh. What's yer new name, monster-boy?"
"What's it to you, fem-boy?" Taro snarled back. Ranma gave him a look. Finally, embarrassed as hell, he mumbled, "Lacy Darlings…"
"What?" Ranma wasn't sure he heard him right.
"Lacy Darlings! Lacy Darlings!" Taro snarled, splashing water everywhere. "Are you satisfied?" Ranma shrugged. Taro was beginning to feel more like himself. "Where's my vest? I'm kind of attached to it." He had a picture of his mother in its liner if nothing else.
Ranma made a face and looked away. "That vest may be the only reason yer still alive, Taro. I heard the old ghoul say it was made of authentic dragon hide. Back when we trashed Jusendo, when Akane touched Kinjakan, it shrank her down like that!" Ranma snapped his fingers. "Only dunkin' her in the cold cursed waters at Jusendo brought her back, and it was a damn near thing. I don't appreciate the danger ya put her in." Ranma looked distant and added, "I killed Saffron for that."
Taro raised an eyebrow. Ranma had killed someone? Of course, he had thought Ranma had killed him.
Ranma waved a hand dismissively. "Things got outa hand."
"Like they almost did here, dammit!" Taro subsided. "So, where's my vest? I don't give a damn what you do with Kinjakan or that other thing."
"I think…"
The door to the bathroom banged open and Cologne followed by Akane, Shampoo, Ling-Ling and Lung-Lung, Ukyo, Mousse, Ryoga and others out in the hall tried to crowd into the room. Taro sank down to nose automatically covering his privates.
"Ranma," croaked the old ghoul, Cologne. "What's the meaning of releasing Taro from my tsubo points? The representatives from Phoenix Mountain will be here any day now and they will probably demand we turn him over to them!" Taro scowled. At his best he'd be cautious of the old woman. In his present state…
"They can go screw pigeons in the park for all I care, old ghoul," Ranma retorted. Taro glanced over startled. He hadn't expected fem-boy to defend him.
"Ranma…" the old woman growled warningly. Ranma snorted.
"Happosai caused this mess over Taro's name again. Musta heard some of my nightmares about Jusendo and figured if he got Kinjakan he could hold it over my head." Ranma glowered at the woman. "So he told Taro here, if he got Kinjakan, he'd change his name." Taro smirked. Maybe this would work out. "If Phoenix Mountain can catch Happosai," Ranma added, "they can keep him!"
Cologne hissed in frustration. "They won't be happy about this."
"Tough." Taro noticed that Ranma was increasingly agitated by the audience, perhaps especially because of the dark haired girl that peeked at him from between her fingers. "Do you people mind?"
"Hey, old ghoul," Taro growled after the giggles subsided. "Where's my stuff? I want it back."
"Tough!" Cologne mimicked Ranma, to his annoyance. "We don't all get what we want in life."
Taro smirked and rose higher in the tub. Except for his name, he wasn't shy around girls. "Wanna bet?" he asked sweetly. Mostly, he was hopping for some indication as to where those objects might be.
"Jeez, Taro!" he heard Ranma's snarl. "Quit tryin' ta seduce my fiancées!"
"What did you say?" snapped Akane. Taro retreated quickly back into the water as her hands dropped and her aura began to shimmer.
"He say fiancée… with multiple counter," offered the purple haired bimbo, looking Taro over thoroughly. Taro smirked. She might be an Amazon, but she was also a pretty girl.
"Pantyhose Taro, leave my beloved Shampoo alone!" snarled Mousse at Ranma.
"Over there, Mousse!"
"I knew that," the male Amazon said with a sweat drop.
"I thought this was settled," demanded a girl that Taro took to be Ukyo, the okonomiyaki chef. With a hint of irritation she slipped a gigantic spatula from its hangers on her back.
"Ranma! If you two-time Akane now, I'll kill you," shouted Ryoga from behind her.
Taro shook his head, staying as far from Ranma as possible. "Morons," he muttered, and then added more loudly, "I guess these girls are all so hard up, they gotta peep at guys any time they can."
That did it. With suddenly red faces, the horde retreated, dragging Mousse and Ryoga with them.
"I owe ya one, man," Ranma said quietly. The water steamed between them.
"No problem." Taro sighed and considered what would happen next.
"Taro-san?" a different voice called in at the door. Nodoka Saotome did not enter, but her distinctive shadow with her katana slung across her back was clearly visible in the changing room. "I'm going over to what's left of my house. You are planning on doing something about the damages, aren't you?" Her voice nearly chilled the waters of the tub.
Taro paled. That was right. He had blasted the Saotome house, hadn't he? Uh, oops... Ranma shook his head. "Fiancées are one thing. Mom's house is entirely different!" Ranma told him.
Taro gulped. His "Gee, thanks, Saotome," rang hollow on his own ears. He reached a sort of epiphany, then. His attacks, the property damage... The pain and fear he had caused both now and in the recent past. Despite himself, he had become what he despised, a mere brigand who used force to take what he wanted. Outside the shadow waited for some reason reminding him of one of the yama kings of the childhood stories, the judges of the dead. He remembered his dreams of his past as he lay on the cold ground behind the Tendo dojo. He stood at a crossroads, a funny thing to do when sitting naked in a furo. The light changed subtly, and the sun raised glints of flame from the ripples and the steam. His reflection seemed to writhe in a lake of fire…
He snorted at the imagery and almost told them all where to go.
Then he smirked, amused at himself and his own bull-headedness. Besides, fem-boy needed lessons on how to act as an adult for his tomboy of a fiancée. "I will be honored to replace what I have damaged or destroyed, Mrs. Saotome. I apologize for the harm I have caused and will do everything in my power to correct it." His sighed at the expression on Ranma's face. His efforts had obviously gone over cross-dresser's head.
That suddenly, it seemed the furo was merely a furo once more and the shadow was that of a woman old enough to be his own mother. Discomfited, he sank deep in the furo and tried to understand what was happening to him.
"Thank you, Taro-san." The voice beyond the door became warmer. The shadow retreated.
"What was that all about?" Ranma asked. He could feel that something had happened, but wasn't certain just what.
Taro sighed and shook his head. "You'll figure it out when you're older, Saotome," he declaimed, making the statement as obnoxious as possible.
The water battle that followed was a great relief from the weight of maturity.
Author's Note: You thought it would be as simple as Happosai claimed? You know he lies (and does it well) when he wants to.