Lifted by warm greetings and happy faces, Kimiko enters into a seemingly pleasant world. As the sky grows dark with the jealousy and rage of the mad, the surface of her newly discovered plane will be permanently shattered by those seeking her demise. Time will only tell if fate allows her salvation from the darkness, or consigns her to the bitterness of eternity, to be caught in its web of lies, deceit and worst of all, love.


Misery Loves Company
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfiction
by Ryan Erik

Part Two: Haunted Pasts
(1 of 4)

Glancing across the surface of the blue river, the coin-shaped rock skipped nearly thirty feet before plunging into the water. Another followed, though it only stretched half the distance before it sank to the riverbed. Another, the size of his open palm, was raised to meet a similar fate to its brethren, but instead was tossed to the side. The hand that had thrown the rocks fell to the side of its owner, firmly placed on the dirt.

He sighed, watching as the sun began its slow but steady ascent on its way towards its zenith, but it still had nearly six hours until then. The sky was empty at the moment, not even the slightest swirl of white water vapor tainting it. He closed his eyes for a moment as a bell sounded out across the water, striking seven times. He wondered if it had been that long since he'd sat down upon the riverbank. It seemed as though only a moment had past, yet he had been throwing stones for nearly an hour. He did more than toss rocks across the rippling water; he used this time to think.

His bare arms tingled from the cold as did his wet feet, but he ignored the discomfort for it was hardly comparable to the pain he felt inside, the emotional strife that fed his depression. His eyes blinked open and he turned to see his younger brother walking down the incline of the hill towards him. Turning again, he stoically faced the water, a tinge of anger burning within him. It was not for his brother, but he often directed it at him.

"What do you want, Shin-kun?" He found another stone and cast it skidding across the water. "I told you not to follow me." He had no need to see his brother to know that he was scared. "What's the matter?"

Shintaro sat to his right but he did not turn to face him. He could feel his little brother's eyes weighing him, judging him, just like everyone else. "Poppa wants you to come home and get ready to go."

He caught himself from snorting in disgust; after all, it was not his brother's fault. "Was he mad?"

"No," Shintaro whispered, as if surprised by it himself. "He was excited, though, and told me to find you and tell you that we're leaving at nine instead of eleven." His brother paused tentatively, and continued, "I wouldn't have come out here if he didn't say so, I swear!"

He sighed again, looking at the water and watching Shintaro's stone skip nearly twice as far as his best had. He gritted his teeth, gripping his knees to his chest. He hated to lose at anything, no matter how insignificant. "Don't worry about it." His voice sounded brittle to his own ears so he added, "I'm not mad at you." Rubbing his chilled arms, he bit back his anger, trying to calm himself with a deep breath. He could never fully extinguish it, though. It always seemed to build, layer upon layer, until he could no longer stand anyone's presence. He knew that he had the right to be indignant, or at least he hoped he did.

"Okay," Shintaro replied cheerfully, standing. "Don't be mad but dad said that if you don't come this time..."

"I know," he interrupted. "I won't make him mad like that again. I promise, I won't miss any more." The last time that his parents were getting together with their friends, he had refused to go. His father was incredibly angry and his anger had vented on Shintaro too. He might not have liked his little brother much, but he certainly did not want him to be punished when he, himself, made the mistake.

"Thanks," his brother replied solemnly. "I'll go now."

"You can stay," he offered, turning to the boy whose hair was a mess as he squirmed with discomfort underneath his thick clothes.

"Nah, I gotta get ready," his brother said to him, a little less than convincing. "I'll see ya around, though."

"Sure," he muttered, facing straight ahead once more. "Whatever." His brother scurried away as if he'd forced the boy to stay there against his will. He clenched his teeth again, feeling truly alone.


Warm water gushed from the gleaming metal faucet, slowly filling large bathtub. Kimiko submerged her right hand into the flowing stream of water, testing the temperature. She withdrew it slowly, watching large drops of water slide down her hand and fall back into the tub. Quickly shaking her wrist over the water, she stood and walked over to the shower. The icy water hit her full on, but she clenched her teeth and forced herself to submerge in it. Shivering, she picked up the bar of soap and started scrubbing, eager to be in the warmth of the tub.

Twisting the knob, she shivered uncomfortably as the spray of ice water withered and died. Walking over to the tub, she stepped in and lowered herself in. The waves of warmth were pure pleasure, and she sighed with relief. Closing her eyes wearily, she began to relax in the hot water.

Her dreams had been particularly rough the last night, and she wondered if she would have been better off skipping sleep all together. Mental exhaustion was almost as bad as, and sometimes worse than, physical exhaustion. Sinking lower till the water covered her ears, Kimiko yawned.

Relaxing, she slid until her head submerged underneath the gentle waves of the bath. She opened her mouth, spilling the oxygen from her lungs, watching them rise and bubble to the surface. Under the clear bath water, it seemed almost serene and strangely haunting. The light from the window shone down upon her, but its image was less vibrant, its color filtered. Reality there was different, even though it was no more than a foot away.

The light steadily grew in intensity until she was forced to close her eyes and puncture the peace she felt below the water's surface. Her lids opened momentarily and she reeled back in surprise, striking her head on the bottom of the tub.

"It is good to see you again, Kimiko," the pleasant voice greeted from above the water's surface. Too stunned to reply, she only stared in silence as the spirit continued, "You do not seem so happy to see me."

The wet, torn silks worn by the specter across from Kimiko barely covered her entire figure. Her messy, long black hair dangled past her ear, brushing the surface of the water, and her dazzling green eyes shone with unnatural light. Her pallid skin almost took a bluish tinge upon closer examination, but not dark enough to be casually noticed. A white aura glowed faintly around the ghost, and she smiled placidly. Goosebumps rose on Kimiko's skin as she beheld the specter hovering over her.

After a few more moments of silence passed. Kimiko instinctively took a breath of the water, and her lungs mysteriously filled with air. She paid little attention and spoke anyway. "I didn't think you were real." Her voice carried to its receiver, still sounding doubtful of the ghost's existence. The drip of the faucet echoed across the bathroom, and faint morning light illuminated the room, but no noise intruded upon their conversation. It was as if time stood still for them to talk.

"I am real enough," Lily replied solemnly, staring back serenely. "I'm much more than a figment of your imagination." Breathing heavily, Kimiko only nodded in reply. Her heart thumped so loud that she could swear that the people outside could hear it.

"How do I know that you're real?" she asked, reaching her hand out to the spirit.

Reaching across, the spectre put her warm hand against Kimiko's and whispered, "Would you rather believe that you are crazy, or that you are perfectly fine and that you have a guardian spirit?"

Retreating her hand to her side, Kimiko replied, "The second one."

"Good, love," the ghost whispered, smiling eerily. "I have just come to warn you, nothing more, nothing less." Her brilliant green eyes shimmered brightly, and she turned towards the entrance of the bathroom. "I have very little time, so listen carefully. You will be challenged three times, by three different forces, each of whom has a quarrel with you. Whether imagined or real, it does not matter. Treat them as real threats, or your life may end in this place you call home. Do you understand?"

"Who is—?" Kimiko began, but Lily interjected.

"Do you understand?"

Silently, Kimiko nodded.

"Good, very good," she replied. "I must go now, so remember to never let your guard down, for a friend or even a family member."

The sound of the door to the inner bath opening filtered through the water, and Lily instantly vanished, revealing the interior ceiling. Kimiko drew in a startled breath, but only sucked in water. She instantly sat, sputtering water and coughing violently. She was only vaguely aware of Mayako entering the room.

"Are you all right?" the girl asked, walking to her side. "Swallow some bath water?" She smiled warmly and then walked over to the shower, turning it on.

"I'm okay," Kimiko replied, straightening herself. She coughed once more, clearing her throat. Lily's words burned in her mind, her last message before Mayako's entry more so than the rest. Why would she say such a thing? she wondered sadly. Here she was, returned to this place after nearly twenty years and she was not supposed to let her guard down. Could Mayako be one of the three Lily warned me about? she wondered distastefully, but that was unlikely. Could she even trust the advice itself, or even its source?

Kimiko turned in time to see Mayako stick her tongue out at her. She smiled. Mayako was trustworthy enough. Before Kimiko could return her attention to soaking, the shower turned off. Mayako walked over, putting one foot in the tub. "Oh, it feels good." Kimiko nodded. "So, what are your plans for today?"


With his eyes intently planted on the back of his father's head, he silently followed his family as they wended their way to the Tendou household, the last place he wanted to be. The many memories of that place resurfaced, each burning as harshly in his mind as the ice-cold wind burned the exposed flesh of his arms. From the moment he started martial arts there with the other students, to the day he stopped taking lessons at the dojo, not one of them was friendly to him, all jealous of his ability, no doubt.

He had been an apt student, and Aunt Akane, the Onos and the two masters of the school trained him more than the others. Many probably figured it was because his father was one of the masters, but he knew otherwise. He was to be the heir of the Saotome style of Anything-Goes Martial Arts, and his teachers, especially his father, wanted him to strive harder than the rest, harder than anyone had before him against some unknown standard. Not a single waking moment had been his alone, and every sleeping hour was spent resting from some horribly exhausting and painful training exercise.

Somewhere he had heard the phrase, "That which does not kill you will only make you stronger." His father had taken that mantra literally, throwing him in any possible situation that could cause pain of any kind, so that he would fear nothing, and overcome any obstacle. Was he, then, the result of such a lifestyle? What had been the cost?

He knew over fourteen styles and variations of martial arts, he had acquired six different black belts which included a fifth degree in the Anything-Goes style, and yet he had absolutely no friends. Even his own brother feared him. He guessed that it was probably best left that way. He did not want friends. Friends held you back. Friends were nothing but liabilities in the face of the Art. Nothing but victory mattered: that he knew, and that he had been taught.

The problem with friends was that you were supposed to like them. How could he like someone he may have to fight sometime in the near future? You simply cannot pull your punches for anyone. Never, ever pull punches. If you do, then you give them an edge, he reasoned to himself. The line between friends and enemies was too fine for him to discern. His father's teachings had drilled that into his mind.

There was no time, no place for them either. Who needed them anyway? The answer, he had learned years ago, was that he did. He needed them more than he needed water. He needed someone to pour out his heart to, he needed someone to hang out with when it rained, and most of all he needed someone to back him up, be by his side, inspire him, and everything else a friend was supposed to do.

Oh, but no, friends betray, friends stab you while your back is turned, and the hurt of the loss was too deep to risk. He couldn't take chances like that. When no one's at his back, no one can stab it, no one can betray him. If there was no one, he had to worry about no one. Blanketing his eyes with this philosophy, he tried to live life normally, but when you hated everyone and everyone hated you, it was not easy.

Oh, he'd had a friend once. He was fun to be with; he said they would be friends forever. Then he left. He left without saying goodbye, and that hurt worse than anything father ever did to him. That hurt worse than the rocks, and the fire, – and those had hurt a lot, especially the fire. He hated fire. Fire hurts, burns and scars.

But no one would listen to him, not him, the boy who no one liked, the troublemaker, the misfit. No one liked him and no one cared if he lived or died. So, then, why should he care if they lived either?

His gaze then trained on the back of his mother's head. Where was she when he needed her? Where was she when he cried and cried, wailing for her to come to his rescue? Oh, where was she when the fire burned him, when the rocks slammed into his adolescent body? The answer: turning a blind eye. She ignored him, let his father do those things, oh, and she continued to let him. She wanted a manly son, a superior being, one who was more god than man. She wanted him to be the best, to win, never fail. No, never that. You can never fail. Failure was pain; failure was death.

He hated her more than his father, almost as much as fire. She could have stopped it, but she did not. It was not abuse; it was training. Why should she stop his training? It was working, was it not? He excelled in the Arts. He had straight A's in school. Nothing and no one could stop him from any goal. Why should he complain? Why should she interject herself where she was not needed?

Shivering with dormant rage and with the cold alike, he looked between his parents, his supposed caretakers, his would-be benefactors. They walked identically, not in unison, but in stature. His father walked with pride and happiness, – in fact, he practically glowed with it. His mother strode down the walk gracefully, with that same pride, that same happiness, that same joy. Why should they, of all people, be happy? Were they not ashamed of what their eldest son had become, their creation, their Frankenstein's monster? Those were the words that his father had used the day before, the week before, and the year before. He had said he was so ashamed to be cursed with such a son, such a disrespectful, uncouth youth. The power behind those words, though denied, stung deeply.

"What is she like?" he overheard his mother say as she quietly spoke with his father. They may have thought no one could hear, but he was not just anyone. Years of intense meditation had made his hearing more acute than even the visually impaired.

"She's amazing," his father replied, his voice hoarse with excitement. "Soun said she fought with skill he had not seen in ages, and he would not exaggerate concerning such delicate matters."

"And you think that she's his?" His mother's voice sounded hopeful and happy, though she normally took the most shocking news calmly, without any betrayal of emotion.

"We do believe that she may be his daughter," his father answered, putting his arm over her shoulder to plant a kiss on her cheek. He almost skipped a step watching that event take place. Rarely did they ever show emotion for one another, and never in public.

"God must have heard my prayers," she whispered in his father's ear.

Their words circulated in his mind, repeating endlessly, trying to extract order from chaos. He hissed inaudibly, unable to decipher their conversation. They spoke of a woman, most likely a girl since she was someone's daughter that they knew. His father spoke of her skills, which he obviously knew to be in the realm of martial arts – his father would not speak of this girl if it did not pertain to it. Though he knew the hatred he felt for his father was mutual, he wondered if the man would take on another student, one who might replace him as the heir to the Saotome School of Anything-Goes.

Never before had his heritage been challenged, since Shintaro was his only other competitor for the title, and he had absolutely no worries there. Shintaro completely lacked any ambition whatsoever, and his natural ability was average at best. The man had no right to do this to him after all the torture he'd endured for the position.

He truly wondered if this girl had the skills to stand up to him in real combat. A challenge would certainly fix his ever-sinking mood for the present. Not only from the fight: he would gain much pleasure by seeing his father's plans ruined, his schemes against his eldest son, his only true prodigy.

They were silent from that point on, and so he decided to study the boy who strode next to him. His brother looked like a version of himself at that age, though the boy's hair was slightly longer than his. There was no need for long hair. It simply got in the way when you needed to see, and became a disadvantage if an enemy were to latch onto it.

"Mother?" Shintaro asked as the boy glanced over at him.

"Yes, son?" His mother's voice still radiated the joy from earlier.

"Can I stand between you and father?" His brother's voice sounded weak, fearful, and it almost came out as a squeak.

"Sure you can," she replied, moving over to the side. His father turned for an instant, and they locked stares before he turned to his younger son and patted him on the head.

He almost roared with laughter after that. His brother was just scared standing next to him. Oh, the irony.


A deep rumble of thunder resounded across the valley's walls as a cold north wind wailed. Black clouds gathered overhead, flashing with streaks of lightning. Hard leather boots trampled over the ground, uncaring of their path, or their destination. As people ran for shelter, one man continued with melancholy determination, tearing his way through anything and anyone that stood in his path.

His cold, lifeless eyes stared towards the horizon, ever watching and waiting for something. What, he did not know, but he did know that something was out there, and he needed to find it, before it found him. Another flash of lightning lit the sky, but he ignored it, stomping ever forward towards his imaginary destination. One day he would find it, and on that day he would stop his meaningless search. On that day his life would be filled again.

Morning light should have shone down upon him, but in the ever-changing world, only coldness and water would fall upon his tired, dusty brow. Traveling, in the old days, was unintentional, but now it was his only release. The maddening call for blood did not burden him here, in this ancient, vast land. He never stopped to ask questions, but rather, he just existed, to be here one moment, and there the next. To settle down, he would have to stand up to his demons, which he could no longer even name. The memory of them had escaped his mind long, long ago – a second to God was an eternity for man.

The rain began then, first as a light shower, and then as the storm he knew it would amount to, winds roaring, lightning crashing and rain pouring. It amounted to little, in the grand scheme of things, and it mattered not to him in the slightest anyway. If he could defeat the greatest martial artists in the world, what, then, was a little storm that could hardly be considered anything compared to him?

In the next moment, his heart skipped a beat and he spun on his heels, prepared for an attack, and yet, the streets as far as he could see were empty. He almost turned to continue his journey, but the nagging feeling he experienced made him dodge hard to his left. Where he had stood, a large fist ripped through the space. There was absolutely no time to size up his opponent, for it attacked him again.

The speed his attacker utilized was admirable, but fell short of being effective in comparison with his sheer skill. Blocking the figure's attacks proved less effective, though, as he realized its strength. A flash of light revealed his attacker, and his eyes narrowed in anger. He should have known this particular bastard would not give up after one fight.

"What's wrong, maggot?" he taunted as his fist connected with his opponent's face. "I already gave you my answer, even though you lost in the first place." He followed that with a nasty combination of punches, but his target vanished, reappearing above him. He rolled to the side, frantically avoiding the aerial attack.

"I don't believe you," a cynical voice replied, though it was more of a feral growl than speech. "Stop hiding him!" Flipping to the side, he narrowly dodged his opponent's following attack.

"What do you think—" he began, tearing through thin air as his opponent became airborne again, "—could possibly motivate me to hide the old demon?" He ducked under the swoop as another flash of electricity illuminated his opponent's enraged form. "He could be dead for all I know."

"You're lying!" it roared back, attacking viciously. "I don't know what you did with him, but you'll tell me now!" He dodged its assault and landed a nasty kick on its left leg, crippling it. Its cry of pain reverberated throughout the village. He doubted if any of the villagers would investigate the noise, but rather dismiss it as the howling of the spirits.

"I'll tell you one more time," he yelled, straining to be heard through the fierce wind. "I don't know where the hell he is, and I haven't seen him for over fifteen years!"

He could hear its strangled panting and knew he'd already won the fight. Yet, it continued its resistance. "You lie." It's voice sounded no more than a hoarse whisper, but he knew that it would never admit defeat.

"Farewell," he laughed back at it. "We'll probably meet again."

Its reply was cut off by the storm.


Pushing her right hand through the sleeve of her gray silk blouse, Kimiko watched Mayako rush out the bathroom door. Her swift bath showed her eagerness to leave, but Kimiko had little idea why that could be. She almost felt like a leper, the way her friend quickly left her presence, but she could not be the reason. Shaking her head as she rolled up the cuffs of her long sleeves, she continued dressing without thought. Having become so used to them, she quickly slipped into the knee-length, navy blue skirt. Girls here, or at least those she had seen so far, seemed partial to skirts now, even in the United States. Only when it was required did they ever wear pants, but in Mayako's and her case, whenever they could not wear skirts, they would wear pants, which was almost always. Tomboys, she silently jeered, shaking her head.

It was not such a big deal, now that she thought about it. Unfortunately, the fact that it did not bother her anymore somewhat scared her, too. Acceptance did not require pleasure. So far, it had not come to that, but she feared it was not far off from her now. The last thing she wanted was to lose her original identity, she thought, almost laughing at the irony of the word original. Ranma might be subdued, but she had yet to completely give up on him. Out there, somewhere, a cure surely existed. Finding it was the main problem, and finding it in time further complicated the matter.

But now, she needed to concentrate on other matters, or more precisely, the Tendous and Saotomes. If she revealed her identity, there was no telling what could happen. Would they accept her, or would they cast her out? Acceptance seemed highly unlikely since she had disappeared without a word nearly twenty years ago. She had to admit that it did look pretty bad on her part. Kiyoshi would back up her story, of course, and if she revealed a few facts that only she could possibly know, they might believe her, especially considering her current physical condition: young. Only then another problem would arise. She would almost surely scare off her new friends. That, combined with not being able to marry Akane, or even having any other type of relationship with the older woman, made it seem like a very poor choice.

To be Ranma, or not to be Ranma, that was the question. She buttoned the blouse to the top and tucked it into her skirt. Kiyoshi would be taking her out of this place soon, and she figured it could not hurt if she wore her mask a little longer. At least this way, she still had friends who did not consider her a freak of nature, and she could still see Akane without bringing the past slamming into her present. Sometimes, the past was best left in the past, and that sometime was probably now. Too bad it hurt so much.

Looking into the mirror, she straightened her crimson hair, pulling it back into a ponytail and tying it with a small red ribbon. Sighing lightly, she pushed her belongings from the sink's counter and into a large duffel bag she had brought from her room. She paused a moment, and then carried it into the outer bath, leaving it in a corner. Noise from the living room echoed into the bathroom, and she curiously walked out to investigate.

Silently, she crossed the hall and walked through the house until she stopped at the stairs. The door was ajar and she heard noise outside, but left up the stairs, hesitant about prying into anyone's business. She was about to knock on the door to Mayako's room when it opened, revealing Mayako.

"Hey," she greeted, walking towards the stairs as Kimiko moved aside. "Come on and I'll introduce you." Kimiko stood there for a moment, pondering Mayako's words when the girl turned and grabbed her hand. "They won't bite!"

"Who—?" Kimiko blurted as her friend pulled her, dashing towards the stairs.

"You'll see!" Mayako replied, literally jumping down the last section of the stairs. Kimiko had an instant to react, but she managed to land safely without crashing into Mayako.

The girl's abrupt halt had a reason, and he stood in front of them, larger than life. The fact that he looked exactly the same struck Kimiko as very odd, considering he was probably forty-five years old now. His benevolent smile reached his eyes even through the thick-rimmed frames she remembered him wearing. He still wore his light brown hair in a small ponytail though lightly brushed with gray, and even his attire was relatively similar to the outfits he wore back when. One of his hands was on Mayako's shoulder, the other casually placed behind his back.

"You should really be careful on stairs, Maya-chan," he gently scolded, smiling more broadly. "Especially when you're dragging friends behind you."

Giggling, Mayako leaned closer and hugged Dr. Tofu, whispering, "It's nice to see you too, Uncle Tofu."

Kimiko gulped, inching back from the two. She silently scolded herself for the fear. Why should she fear Dr. Tofu? The man certainly could not be one of the three Lily had warned her about, and he would definitely not cause her harm. She reconsidered and struck the last from her list: he could identify her.

"It's been a while since you've visited me at the clinic, so you must be well," he told her, patting Mayako's back.

"I'm fine," she replied, pulling out of the hug. She then turned to Kimiko. "Kimiko, this is my dear Uncle, Tofu Ono. Uncle, this is Kimiko Nishiyama." He bowed forty-five degrees, and she bowed lower, nearly gritting her teeth.

"It's nice to meet you, Nishiyama-san," he greeted, which she returned. When he blinked, and readjusted his frames on his face, she weakly smiled. "My, you look awfully familiar. Have I met either of your parents?"

Oh yes, she thought dryly, and you've met me before too. "You may have, Ono-san." Oh, the lies and half-truths, and how easily they flowed from her mouth.

He peered at her quizzically for a moment, but then fell into his happy, carefree demeanor again. The answer must have satisfied him, for he bade them farewell and walked into the living room. Sighing with relief, she watched his back until he disappeared from sight.

"Let me introduce you to the rest of the Onos," Mayako proposed, taking Kimiko's right hand. The honest joy radiating from the girl even made the redhead smile, but as they pushed through the front door, Kimiko inhaled sharply.

Shaking her head with a light chuckle, Akane stood on the brick walk happily talking with Shampoo. Akane's long black hair had been bound with a thin cotton string, swaying with the movement of her head. Her casual smile filled Kimiko with warmth, and her eyes reflected the morning sun's light. The end of her soft yellow dress ruffled with the chill wind, but she showed no signs of discomfort, though the matching jacket she wore was thin enough to see through.

Across from Akane, Shampoo stood with her arms crossed, smiling warmly. Her beautiful purple hair was curled in a bun while long sidelocks adorned each side of her head. She wore a thick, red sweater and a long, black skirt that reached past her ankles. She nodded slowly, replying to something Akane had said.

Mayako reached the pair of women in the next moment with Kimiko in tow, and waited until the two turned to face them, rather than rudely interjecting herself. Their gaze was enough to make Kimiko gulp with anxiety.

"Auntie Shampoo," Mayako said, addressing the violet-haired woman with respectful tones. "I would like you to meet Kimiko Nishiyama."

Shampoo's benevolent eyes alighted upon the redhead, widening slightly, her lips curling into a thoughtful frown. There was less than a moment's pause before Kimiko bowed, whispering her greeting.

"It's nice to meet you, Nishiyama-san," the woman replied with a slight bow. "I am Shampoo Ono." Her voice had matured as well as her manners since their last meeting, but that was entirely unavoidable considering the amount of time spent between then and now.

The adults' attention immediately returned to their conversation, which they carried with them into the house. Reiko and two others, hidden in the shadows of gate, conversed with openly argumentative tones.

"I'm not always late!" a male voice protested.

"Yes you are, baka!" Mai insisted, loud enough for Kimiko to recognize the voice. "If Mother and Father hadn't woken you, you'd still be in bed!"

"So?" Ryosei Ono, Mai's brother, hissed, putting his hands behind his head. "I happen to enjoy my vacations, thank you very much." His next step fell short of its place, nearly causing him to trip over himself. He regained his composure, peering at Kimiko.

"Hello, Ryosei," Mayako coolly greeted, sinuously approaching him. "Looking as unattractive as ever, I see." Her insult was off base, for he actually was a rather handsome young man, if not pretty. Between his pretty face, brown ponytail and long bangs, curling inwards to hang in his eyes, at first glance Kimiko almost thought he was a she, but yesterday she had quickly distinguished his gender by his muscular upper body and his easily discernible male voice. The gi top he wore did nothing to conceal his corded biceps, but his baggy trousers concealed his leg muscles, which were probably just as impressive. He had already thrown his jacket over his shoulder.

"Good day, Mayako-san," he replied just as coolly as he walked up to her. "I see you still appear to be a man at first, and second look."

Kimiko honestly expected Mayako to attack the impudent male on the spot, though his remark was just as crude as hers. To her utter amazement though, the boy and the girl both laughed. Pulling him into a hug, Mayako probably squeezed the breath out of Ryosei, though he too probably hugged her harder than required. A show of strength between warriors, Kimiko supposed.

The young man withdrew from her embrace with a smile, and turned his eye to the redhead. "And so we meet again, my dazzling star." If the day could have held any more surprises, it certainly could hold nothing more unexpected than the moment he fell to his knees, lifted her hand gently and slowly kissed it. He released her hand. "If anything awoke me so suddenly today, it would be for our meeting on this cold morning."

"I guess," she replied, crossing her arms under her breasts. "It's nice to see you're still alive." Mai already had walked around them and was on her way with Mayako, strolling toward the house. Reiko still stood behind Ryosei, politely waiting.

He laughed, turning to Reiko, but addressed both girls. "Let's head in and get some breakfast."

When Kimiko turned, Ryosei politely hooked his arm around hers. When she turned to protest, she saw Reiko being escorted on his left. With a sigh, she shook her head as they entered the household.


"You would have been well advised to have brought your coat as I told you, son," Genma coldly told his eldest child.

"I'm not cold," Rintaro shot back, fighting hard to control his shivering. Unfortunately for the boy, his skin betrayed him with goosebumps. "Concentrate on walking, or you might fall down." The unspoken insult "old man" did not even need to be spoken.

The morning's weather had been painfully cold to him, and he wore a thick jacket, as did his wife and youngest. Genma did not particularly like the long walk from his home to the Tendou's, but he did need to exercise now and again, and his wife certainly was in good enough shape to keep pace. He glanced back to his eldest again, before contentedly increasing their pace.

"Are we almost there, Poppa?" Shintaro asked impatiently, squeezing Genma's hand.

"Yes, son," he replied. "There is only one block left."

The boy squealed with delight, and whispered, "I can't wait to see Eiji again." Genma smiled down at the child, wishing he could begin again with the young man calmly walking behind them.

"Are we almost there?" Rintaro mockingly asked, drawing close. "I just cannot wait to see all of my most wonderful friends." The venom laced with sarcasm almost caused Genma to turn and scold the boy, but he kept his calm.

"If you are so impatient, Rintaro, than why don't you run on ahead? I'm sure everyone will be just as delighted to see you too." He spared his eldest a half-glance.

"Maybe I'll take you up on that, Father," the young man said, walking around them. He put his arm on Nodoka's shoulder briefly, and after she nodded, he sped into a full run, turning the corner.

"I fear, not for the boy's manners, but of his intentions, dear," his wife calmly told him, too calmly.

"Yes, love," he replied. "But I doubt he'll upset the party." His wife looked at him, raising her right eyebrow. He shrugged helplessly and returned her look. "Much."

Only the howling wind greeted him as he pushed open the gate to the Tendou's residence. He sprinted across the red bricks, only to stop and knock on the front door. Pausing for only a couple of seconds, he turned the knob and nudged it open. Ryosei and Reiko turned to face him as he entered. He smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked through the door into the foyer of the house.

Ryosei's black pants rippled with the frosty wind as he held the door open for the young man entering. "Hello, Rintaro." The coolly bitter greeting rang pleasantly in Rintaro's ears as he recognized the disappointment hidden within it. The boy's eyes were fire, fueled with resentment, dislike and maybe even jealousy. The two young men might have once considered each other allies, but now they were hardly even that.

"Ryosei," he indifferently acknowledged, nod. "Greetings, Reiko."

"Hi," she replied sweetly. Her brown hair was not bound behind her head as he remembered her wearing it, but rather it fell across her shoulders and back. She was one of the few individuals who could stand his presence, and vice-versa.

"We missed you last time," Ryosei lied, closing the door behind the dark-haired youth. Rintaro turned to face him, a very light smirk growing on his face. He figured that Ryosei truly despised him. "Where's your family?"

"They're several blocks behind me," he replied, standing in the foyer without any intention of making the first move. He looked at the ponytailed boy for a moment, and then passed his gaze to Reiko. She folded under his gaze, and turned to Ryosei. He also turned to him, addressing him. "Did Tofu-sensei come with you this time?" Dr. Tofu was a strange man, but he was an incredibly talented martial artist with more knowledge than anyone else Rintaro knew. Talking shop with him was tolerable, if not enjoyable.

"Yes, my father is with us," the brunette boy answered, a bit of acid resonating in his voice. Ryosei was probably jealous of Rintaro's friendship with his father. "He's in the living room if you wish to see him."

"Thanks," he whispered. Sensing the subtle demand for his departure, he walked past them and into the hall. Rintaro had barely even crossed into the hall when he overheard something that turned his smirk into a wide grin.

"There goes the party," Ryosei whispered to Reiko.

"Ryosei!" Reiko scolded, but all further comments on her part were muted as he approached the living room.

Nearly crashing into him as he rounded the corner to the living room, little Eiji burst past him, running at his top speed to avoid capture. The person that followed was not as fortunate and ran straight into Rintaro. Reacting on instinct, Rintaro knocked the figure aside, barely stabilizing himself in the process. Kenichi expelled a pained grunt as he fell onto the floorboards. Rintaro looked down at the Tendou boy, realizing a moment later that he could have seriously hurt him, but the thought quickly passed.

"You might want to watch where you're going," he told the fallen youth smugly, standing over him. Kenichi's eyes narrowed as Rintaro held out his hand to help him up.

"No thanks," Kenichi told him, standing. The boy's eyes held less dislike for him than Ryosei's, though how much less, Rintaro did not know. "How come you missed last time? Scared of our rematch?" He smiled slightly at this, for they both knew that he would almost never be a match for Rintaro.

"Of course, mighty Kenichi Tendou," Rintaro replied sarcastically. "I had decided that of all the reasons for me not to show, your rematch was enough." If anyone was a good sport about losing, Kenichi would be the one. He at least tried to make an effort to be civil; not that Rintaro returned it.

"I better go catch the rug rat before he thinks he got away from me," Kenichi said, excusing himself. "He'd never shut up about it then." Rintaro nodded, walking past the other into the living room.

The familiar scene of a casual Tendou morning lay spread out before him, and as he entered, he tried to stifle a yawn. Three figures sat around the shoji board, Tofu Ono, Master Soun and a girl with long, bright red hair who had her back to him. A crash from the kitchen indicated that Shampoo Ono was embarking on their hopeless, bimonthly journey to teach Aunt Akane to cook more than rice without utterly ruining the dish. He shook his head, regretfully remembering the last item she managed to prepare. Its incredibly bitter taste still lingered in his memory. Thank God for takeout, he mused to himself.

Drawing closer to get a better view of the redheaded newcomer, he wondered if this was the person his father had spoken about earlier. Less than ten feet stood between them, and not one of the shoji players had noticed him approach. The redhead did not seem out of the ordinary in any way, besides her abnormally crimson hair, and she looked a little too small to even be considered for training under any proficient masters.

With a silent, deep breath, he began to focus his eyes to ease past the physical plane and into the spiritual one. Any artist worth paying attention to would at least glow in the blackness that he drew to himself, and a chi master would burn like a red coal in the darkness. This separated the strong from the weak, the believers from the heretics, and the true fighters from the talkers.

She shone like a brilliant star, her distant light growing increasingly brighter the closer his chi came to hers. He was forced to close his eyes then, as the illumination of her life energy suddenly leaped towards him. He could smell her, the sweet perfume of soap; he could feel her, tender flesh pressed up against him; and he could taste every inch of her, a bead of sweat on her forehead and day-old, dried tears on her cheek. From within her depths, energy stronger than any he had faced before pulled his entire essence from his body, and he was helpless as it drew him in.

Suddenly dislocated from his body on the prime material plane, he tried to cry out in pain as he was torn asunder. Agony shook his existence as the energy pulled; he had no chance to fight back. Madness shone from his eyes, memories from childhood driving him backwards into the depths of his abyss, the silent, sightless hell he created for himself after being sent into unconsciousness from his father's endless training. He cackled, realizing that this was the end, eternity in the one place he thought to hide once, without thinking that he could be trapped here permanently. Silence could be worse than the agony at times, but there had always been a balance before.

Just as despair began to overwhelm his sanity completely, a calming hand rippled through him, holding his deafening thoughts at bay. Like water to a dehydrated man, he welcomed the flush of pleasure. His captor held him in limbo, examining every inch of his soul.

Words echoed into him then. "Reach not where you do not belong, young one." A pale face broke the inky blackness of his prison and peered at him. Its bright white eyes bore through him, and its lips moved, creating more sound. "Remember that the next time you attempt to bind my host's essence with yours. Your existence ends the moment the consideration crosses your mind."

With that, reality violently crashed into him, and he reeled, barely holding his essence from shattering. A horrible tearing sensation that felt as if someone was trying to suck out his guts with a high-powered vacuum pump returned to his body. His pain vanished, the pleasure faded and sight returned to his eyes.

Jarring awake as if he had been standing comatose, Rintaro jumped forward, barely catching himself from tripping and falling onto the redhead he had been watching moments before.

Laughter rippled behind him, just as Soun and Dr. Tofu chuckled from his front. The girl twisted at the waist to look at him, the hint of a smile forming on her face. Rintaro spun to glare at his assailant, but his anger slipped when he saw that his Aunt had sneaked up on him.

"A little bit jumpy today, Rin-chan?" Akane asked before drawing him into a hug. Rintaro absolutely despised the nickname she had given him as a child, but he always ignored it, for she was one of the few that actually liked him. If someone else even whispered it near him, though, he would pound the living daylights out of them.

"I was just admiring the sunny, warm day outside, Aunt Akane," he sarcastically whispered as his senses fully returned to him, though he still focused on what had happened. Was his experience merely a vision, he wondered, or was it as he felt it had been? For that matter, what did he feel that it had been? He decided to sort out his thoughts later.

Akane released him and smiled, her hands still remaining on his shoulders. She gently spun him around and whispered, "Introduce yourself, silly."

The redheaded girl stood before him nervously, straightening her navy blue skirt. He was tempted to let his eyes linger upon her well-endowed chest hidden within the close-fitting gray blouse, but his manners kicked in and he bowed.

"I am Rintaro Saotome," he said, introducing himself. Her face seemed to whiten the moment he spoke his name, though nothing else affected her visibly.

"I am Kimiko Nishiyama," she replied, and as she bowed, her loose red hair fell from behind her ears and over her shoulders. By the time she righted herself, the color had returned to her face. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Saotome-san."

"Likewise, Nishiyama-san," he returned with a nod. For the first time, he took in her appearance deeply. By her hair, he figured her to be a Joketsuzoku Amazon in light of Shampoo's heritage and unnatural coloring. His first idea might have been might have been a wild guess, but her facial features further reinforced that idea, because she appeared vaguely Chinese. He had seen some Amazons from Shampoo's village before, for some of the youths who ended up having to travel to Japan seemed to make a pilgrimage to the middle-aged woman when they were in the Tokyo area. Half could barely speak Japanese, while the rest had heavy accents, or at least some recognizable flaws in their speech. Kimiko had none from the little he had heard her speak.

"What brings you to our gathering, if I may ask, Nishiyama-san?" He resisted the urge to clench his teeth and scream. Why had it not occurred to him sooner? Kimiko Nishiyama was definitely a Japanese name, though she did not look like a native. If he did not pay more attention...he let that thought slide.

"Kenichi-san and Mayako-san invited me," she half-whispered, hanging her head as if suddenly finding the wooden floorboards interesting.

"Soun!" Dr. Tofu admonished, replacing a shoji piece to its proper position. "You know better than to cheat against people other than Saotome-san." The lopsided grin on his face broke the effect of his berating. Kimiko turned to face the board again and quickly sat to guard the rest of her pieces. Rintaro assumed this was the ending of that short-lived conversation.

Master Soun chuckled. "Habit," he admitted, replacing a few other pieces he had stashed up the sleeve of his gi shirt. "I don't need to cheat to win this match."

"We'll see," Kimiko replied, moving a piece and extracting a low moan from Soun.

Turning from their game, Rintaro slid open the door to the back and exited the house. He needed to think alone.


The steady beep of the machine echoed in Masami's ears as he sat in the corner of his friend Michio's hospital room. Shadows seemed to gather around the boy, though the lights were on. Three teenagers, about ten feet from where Masami sat, stood over the sleeping, injured boy, their words filled with outrage and contempt. They had every right to it, though, especially after yesterday's embarrassing defeat.

Out of the four of them who had fought the redheaded demon, he had suffered the least, simply being knocked unconscious when his head collided with the ground one too many times. The others had been beaten before that point. Seiko remained in fairly good condition, though she had a few broken ribs and torn pride. Michio had obviously taken the brunt of the redhead's attack, landing himself a broken leg. Shoji was in the room across the hall with numerous fractures and abrasions, but no one wanted to talk to him after yesterday's events. He was far too irritable today.

Seiko leaned up against the wall next to the head of Michio's bed. The other two young men in the room were Jotaro Saito, Michio's older brother, and Kojiro Yoneda. Jotaro was the eldest member of their group and definitely the strongest. He stood nearly a foot taller than even Shoji, their leader, and he was about six feet tall. He could have been Michio's clone, if not for the height difference of about a half-foot. Unlike his younger brother, though, Jotaro was even-tempered and wiser than his years, and yet he vehemently turned down the position of leader when they had first offered it to him. Perhaps that was more of a wise decision than Michio had thought.

Kojiro Yoneda had only gritted his teeth when Seiko had furiously related the story to him. He would constantly push his slim fingers through his spiked, bleached hair, and his eyes consistently danced from member to member as if one planned to stab his back. His dismal, black apparel suited him well, for the boy was a total downer when it came to conversations. He kept his responses brief and to the point, even when the others expected more out of him. For once, he actually stood over Michio's prone body, giggling at the strange position the doctors had set his leg to occupy.

The two other members of their group, Katsumi Aomizu and Rina Nomiya, were purposely absent. They had left early in the morning to find out more about the redhead, Kimiko Nishiyama. Katsumi was originally told to do it alone, but knowing his close relationship with Rina, she inevitably followed. Seiko had only scowled when the two left together; she was not fond of her little sister falling in love with Katsumi, the weakest member of their group.

A tickling sensation was Masami's only warning before a sneeze violently shook his body.

"Shit!" Kojiro exclaimed, suddenly alarmed. "God damn it, Masami. How come you always have to sit in the darkest corner? You were so silent that I forgot you were there." The bleached blonde placed his open palm over his chest, taking a deep breath.

"Pay more attention to your surroundings, Kojiro," Seiko berated. "You won't be caught off guard like that next time."

"If he pays any more attention, his eyes will pop out," Masami quipped, putting his hands behind his head, sitting far back in his chair.

"Shut it, all of you," Jotaro told them, his gaze still fixed on his baby brother. "Tell me again how this Kimiko knocked you into the brick wall."

Seiko sighed, shrugging her shoulders helplessly. "How am I supposed to know how? One moment I was standing there, ready to be hit, and the next it felt like someone had tossed me across the alley. I hardly felt her touch me, and she certainly didn't leave a mark where she touched." When she finished, she shook her head, rubbing her bruised cheek.

"Besides the marks up and down your body?" Masami asked with feigned politeness, grinning wryly.

"That's enough out of you, Masami," Jotaro commanded, glaring at him. "She handled you pretty easily if what I hear is true."

"She fucking kicked my ass is what she did," he replied. He turned his head, unwilling to listen to any more talk, but what Jotaro said next caught his attention.

"Well, I'm guessing she's at least an instructor of whatever art she practices," Jotaro told the group, frowning. "We know that Ryosei's a good fighter, and some of his friends are even better, but not one of them could have taken the four of you like that."

"What about Rintaro Saotome?" Kojiro questioned, honestly intrigued with the older boy's assumptions.

"He hardly counts," Jotaro answered, rubbing his chin. "He fights about as much as my mother does simply because no one with any brains would fight him once, and definitely not twice."

"Um, Jotaro?" The three teens turned to Masami. "Your mother's a professional wrestler."

"God, shut the fuck up, Masami!" The even-tempered boy seemed ready to breathe fire over him. "One more word from you and your ass is grass!" Masami turned his head again, feigning that he did not care.

"As I was saying," Jotaro continued, turning his attention to the other two. "Saotome doesn't count because he doesn't join anyone's side now anyway. Only the Tendous would really help Ryosei out of a jam, and it would take the three of them to take the four of you. Seiko's almost a match for Kenichi, though I'm probably the only one who could possibly take Mayako alone." He massaged his left side in remembrance of an old wound. "And that bitch is incredibly tough. But Seiko and Masami could handle her, though they'd probably take a beating, and the fight would last for a good deal of time."

As Jotaro paused, he looked down at his younger brother. The whole situation reminded Masami of the first time their group brawled Rintaro Saotome. Two years ago, Jotaro and company dominated Furinkan and they had only been freshmen at the time. Seiko and Jotaro were the only ones old enough at the time to be in high school, and Rintaro was the sole member of the opposition there. As it turned out, Rintaro challenged Jotaro to a fight after school, but Saotome brought Mayako with him. Masami had thought everything was in order, since he was only there to act as a witness, as he assumed Mayako to be, but Rintaro had pretended that he had no idea that there was a fight. He had said that Jotaro was trying to jump him while he was unaware.

Whatever Rintaro had said next to Jotaro, Masami completely forgot, but it sparked a fire within the even-tempered boy that he had never seen before. Enraged, Jotaro attacked blindly and struck Mayako by accident when Saotome had dodged. Immediately, Rintaro and Mayako attacked. Even when Seiko and Yoshi arrived, though they were not supposed to, the four of them could not stand up to Rintaro and Mayako. Yoshi was nearly killed; Jotaro and he had been thrown in jail, while Seiko escaped before taking any serious hits. Masami shook his head with disgust. Seiko always managed to escape.

They dominated him and his friends then, and now another one showed up on the scene to take four with only two. If Rintaro was still a member of Masami's enemies, there would be no chance to win their respect back. With only Ryosei, Mayako and Kenichi, they had the advantage, but now...

"Considering this new girl took Seiko, Masami and Michio all in a minute or two," Jotaro began, breaking Masami's train of thought, "I'd say she's easily a master. She might even be able to take Rintaro out in a one-on-one, though I once swore that it would be a cold day in hell before that would happen."

"I'd like to see Saotome beat the shit out of Nishiyama," Seiko added, promptly yawning. The thought of turning Rintaro to their side, at least long enough to beat Nishiyama, sent chills down Masami's spine.

Jotaro looked at her, his eyebrows slanting in thought. He hummed, his eyes returning Seiko's questioning stare.

"What is it?" she asked, putting her right hand on his shoulder. "You've got a plan!" She grinned when he nodded. "Tell us!"

Nodding, Jotaro looked at all of them before speaking. "With this new girl clobbering us on our own turf, I say push her out, and I know exactly how to do it." Even Masami stood and drew in close as the eldest told them his plot.


Closing her eyes with a deep sigh, Akane leaned against the kitchen counter, her hands clenching its edge. The wall of patience she had surrounded herself with had begun to wear thin. She had managed to cook several meals before, and they had all turned out quite edible, quite the contrary to the stew she had concocted today. One sip of the grotesque slime was all that was needed. She did not even argue when Shampoo dumped it in the trash.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder, comforting the struggling cook. Akane turned to her best friend with a smile, but even she felt that it was a bit forced. Her eyes sank and she relaxed her grip on the counter.

"Why does it always turn out like this?" she asked rhetorically, lifting her hands to stare at them as if they were a curse upon her femininity. She sagged her shoulders, releasing another heartfelt sigh.

"Well," Shampoo began, pretending to count numerous reasons with her fingers. Akane grinned, pressing her left hand to her forehead. Shampoo gently squeezed her shoulder. "You just need to relax, Akane. Just keep it simple and do it slowly, and you'll get it eventually. I promise."

Nodding slowly, Akane put her hand on Shampoo's. "I remember someone telling me once, 'Keep it simple, stupid!' Of course, it only made me more angry and I punched him through the kitchen door!" Akane and Shampoo chuckled, but suddenly Akane's humor died and her knees wobbled slightly.

As Akane began to fall, Shampoo caught her and wrapped a steady arm around the woman's waist. "What's wrong, Akane?" The urgent concern in her voice woke Akane from her stunned silence.

"I—I...that is..." she began, staring at the floor. She looked at Shampoo, her eyes pleading. "Ranma told me that." Shampoo looked away, breathing in deeply. "It was only a week or two before he disappeared. He was trying to help me cook, and he was actually helping for once, but..." Her voice trailed off and she wrapped her arms around herself.

"It's all right to think about him, Akane," the purple-haired woman told her solemnly. "That's all we have left of him now, anyway. Memories of a boy that everyone loved so deeply." Shampoo turned to her then, smiling playfully. "Cheer up. Maybe what he taught you last will help you cook now."

With a weak nod, the raven-haired woman dreamily stared at nothing. "Sometimes I think he was only in my dreams, and that I never really lost him, as if he only existed in my imagination." She turned back to Shampoo, lowering her eyes. "Then I'd wake up and realize he really did exist and that I did lose him. We never had a chance to enjoy what we had."

"Stop talking like that, Akane," Shampoo replied. "How come you're thinking about him all of a sudden? I thought you came to terms with this years ago?" When Akane did not answer, she questioned her further. "Is it because of Kimiko Nishiyama, Akane?"

As crystalline tears began to spill down her flushed cheeks, Akane turned away from Shampoo. "No, what would make you say that?"

"Only two reasons," Shampoo told her, putting her hands on Akane's shoulders. "Because she practices martial arts far beyond her age and she looks like Ranma did when we first met him. I'm guessing it has a lot to do with the second one."

Conceding, Akane nodded, glad that she and Shampoo would not be bothered for a while. Her hand reached down the front of her shirt, grabbing hold of the small locket dangling between her breasts. She unhooked the golden chain on the back of her neck and held it out behind her, which Shampoo took.

"It's not the hair or the similar appearance, really," Akane confessed, turning her flank to Shampoo, looking over at her as she stared at the pictures in it. "It's her eyes," she said faintly, almost whispering. "She has his eyes, Shampoo. Not just blue eyes, his eyes."

"How long have you had this?" Shampoo asked, holding up the open locket.

"I've had it for sixteen years." The everlasting warmth faded from Akane and she no longer felt anything but the pain of Ranma's loss all over again. "I cut those out from two different pictures and hid them in the locket when my husband started throwing everything of Ranma's out, or giving it away." She had protested, but he had told her that keeping his stuff at the house would only be a constant reminder of Ranma. Everyone else agreed, but it hurt worse losing almost everything that tied him to her than it did to have the objects around, especially the pictures. Nodoka took most of those.

"I remember that," Shampoo stated. "Those were hard years for everyone." Placing the chain around Akane's neck, she re-clasped it. "What you said earlier, about Kimiko having Ranma's eyes...what did you mean?"

Shrugging helplessly, Akane wished that she knew what she had meant by that. For a brief instant yesterday, their eyes had met and she had recognized the deep blue eyes of her former fiancé. "My father and Genma believe that she's his daughter."

Gasping with shock, Shampoo put a hand to her mouth. "You think they're right, don't you?"

Akane could not answer her and only remained silent. She had not really decided for herself, and thinking about it only hurt more. Old wounds were once more fresh, burning slashes cut across her soul, and its poison coursing through her body. She wiped her face with her arm and then tried to dry it with her cotton apron.

"Let's talk to her," Shampoo suggested, walking to the door of the kitchen, spying through the circular glass-cut top part of the wooden door. Akane only looked at her incredulously. "I can always do the talking while you just listen in."

"Okay," Akane agreed. She then took a deep breath, trying to calm her shaken nerves. Following the purple-haired woman, she shook her head. A week ago, if someone had told her that she would break down upon seeing someone who resembled Ranma, she would have laughed. It did not seem so funny at the moment, though.

Her father sat across from Kimiko, while sweet Doctor Tofu watched from the side of the shoji board. From the scowl on her father's face, Akane guessed that Kimiko was winning.

"Sorry, Tendou-san," the redhead told Soun, bowing from her sitting position.

"Good job," he muttered, rubbing the back of his head.

At this moment, Akane and Shampoo sat down, one on each side of the girl. Shampoo opened her mouth as to speak, but Eiji burst into the room with Shintaro, the youngest Saotome child, in full pursuit. Eiji positioned himself between Kimiko and his mother, circling around when Shintaro tried to catch him. Akane almost cried out in protest.

"Can't catch me!" Eiji teased, sticking his tongue out at the other boy.

"Why don't you two take your game outside?" Tofu suggested, motioning to the closed door to the backyard.

"It's cold outside," Eiji complained, narrowly dodging Shintaro's lunge. Akane smiled and slid out of the way, allowing Shintaro to charge his opponent. With nowhere to dodge, Eiji braced himself and both of the boys fell sprawling on top of Kimiko.

"Ow," Eiji whined, sandwiched between two other bodies. "Get offa me, Shintaro!" When whole group of adults began to laugh, Eiji started to giggle. "I'm stuck."

"Allow me," Kimiko said as she stood, lifting both of the boys up with her. Adjusting them in her arms, she held them both upside down by their legs. "Both of you want down?"

"Yes!" Shintaro whispered with a giggle, trying to wiggle out of her grip.

"No!" Eiji giggled, holding his arms to his chest.

Walking forward, the girl cleared the area of the shoji board and set them down, much to Eiji's disappointment. "I'll give you three seconds to get outside and hide!" The boys immediately bolted towards the door, barely remembering to open it before plunging headfirst into a sprint.

"I'll play you later, Doctor Tofu," Kimiko promised as she began to chase after the children, shutting the door behind her.

The remaining four adults all sat around the shoji board in silence, until Shampoo broke it. "She certainly gets along well with the children."

"Yes," Soun replied, nodding with a smile. "She'll make a fine mother some day." He scratched frizzled mustache idly, staring at the shoji board. "An amazing child, that one is. She planned the whole game, right from the start. I could see it in her eyes."

Any further comments were cut short as the next family entered the house. Genma and Nodoka both carried covered baskets as they strolled into the living room. As the four sitting around the shoji board stood to greet their friends, Akane glanced back to where the children were playing. Her questions would have to wait for later.


Within the bright dojo, the twins circled one another each one ready for the other's attack. Cracking his knuckles, Kenichi prepared for his sister's rush. The gleam in her eyes left little doubt in his mind as to what her opening moves would be, though she rarely ever fought with anything less than with her full effort. As if predicting the outcome of their fight, she stood across from him wearing a cocky smirk. He curved the right side of his mouth into a lopsided smile, signaling the beginning of their match.

He quickly sidestepped her lunge kick, striking her outstretched leg with a closed fist, hard enough to cause her to lose her balance. Unfortunately, he was not quick enough to redirect his body against her and she deflected his counter-punches with impossibly quick blocks. Never one to give up on a failed attack, Kenichi continued to assault his sister with punches. She almost managed to block every one, but the last slipped past her defenses, grazing her chin.

Caught off guard by his successful strike, Mayako tripped backwards and fell onto her back, dazed by its power. She immediately turned over onto her side, grasping her chin.

Quickly falling to kneel next to her, Kenichi leaned over his sister. He furrowed his brows and slowly put his hand on her shoulder. "You all right?"

Turning quickly, Mayako punched him in the stomach, grabbed the folds of his gi shirt and tossed him over her side. Automatically curling into a somersault, Kenichi rolled to his feet.

"Of course I'm fine, stupid," she told him as he dusted himself off, pulling on the ends of his shirt in a poor attempt to straighten it to fit his body. "You always fall for my crocodile tears, don't you?"

"Whatever," he replied, turning to face her as she rolled to her feet. Somehow she always managed to turn his victories into defeats.

"He actually managed to knock you down, Mayako," Ryosei commented, grinning smugly from his spot next to Reiko at the edge of the dojo. Both Mai and Reiko had become fairly accustomed to the bickering, and they chatted between each other unnoticed by the others. The ponytailed boy stood, further driving his teasing into Mayako's skull. "You're losing your edge."

"Shut up, Ryosei," Mayako muttered, turning her attention to her brother. Their antics never ceased to make Kenichi chuckle. His sister's eyes turned dark. "How did you hit me, Ken?"

Wondering the same thing himself, he cupped his chin as if giving it deep consideration. Mayako narrowed her eyes, folding her arms under her breasts. A moment later, he shrugged and turned, walking to the edge of the dojo.

"I'm not done with you!" Mayako exclaimed, running to catch up with him. "Just 'cause you got me once doesn't mean it's over!" By the time she did stand next to him, he had already taken a seat next to Mai.

"Yes, it does," he replied, grinning up at her. "You said before the match that the first to be knocked down loses."

She grumbled, playfully kicking his shin. "Well, I want a rematch then."

He considered it for a moment, but decided to quit while he was ahead. He probably would not survive round two anyway. "No thanks." He rested his back against the dojo wall, putting his hands behind his head. Beside him, Mai and Reiko giggled.

"Ha-ha, laugh it up," Mayako mumbled, turning away from them. She began to walk towards Ryosei who had already taken a fighting position in the middle of the dojo. "Get ready, Ryosei! If I can't kick Ken's ass today, I'm gonna kick yours."

"You promise?" Ryosei quipped, broadening his grin. "We can always go to your room and you can kick it there."

Kenichi turned to the girls at his side and asked, "Reiko, do you know if Kimiko is still playing shoji with Grandfather Soun?" He had not seen her since he chased Eiji through the living room nearly twenty minutes ago. The thought of leaving her alone with his relatives scared him. Knowing his grandfather, Kenichi guessed that the old man had probably already devised a plan to marry her into the family somehow.

Shrugging her shoulders, Reiko gave him an apologetic look before continuing her conversation with Mai. He definitely did not wish to join their girl talk, and watching Mayako splatter Ryosei across the walls seemed even less interesting. Rising swiftly against the side of the dojo, Kenichi took a deep breath. The clock above the shrine read 10:00. Such an early start for their gathering, he thought.

Silently padding across the clean, wooden floor of the dojo, Kenichi left in search of Kimiko. His thoughts turned inward, reflecting on his brief friendship with the redhead. Strange coincidences riddled his memory, from their accidental encounter at the airport to her pre-existent ties to his family, which he had only learned about today. The fact that they would have met regardless of their first meeting made it seem even more fated.

As the cold air penetrated his reverie, he gritted his teeth, not allowing his thoughts to falter. Her tear-stained face and wide-eyed expression remained imprinted on his memory as he searched for her. The urge to record the image onto canvas began to burn within him, and he decided to begin it tonight. The only reason he did not begin this instant was that he would much rather spend it with the girl herself.

Rewarded sooner than he expected, Kenichi rounded the corner of the house to see her running from his little brother and Shintaro Saotome around the blue waters of the koi pond. Smiling, he spied them from afar and realized he was not the only one doing so. Not more than ten feet away, Rintaro Saotome stood, nearly invisible within the shadows. That setting suited the dark-humored boy, Kenichi decided, approaching his side.

"Kenichi," Rintaro acknowledged, not stirring a muscle.

"Hey," Kenichi greeted, realizing Rintaro did not even have to look over to realize who had approached him. "Whatcha doing?"

"The same as you," the dark-haired boy responded, turning his head to face him. Kenichi did not like his gaze. It always seemed as if Rintaro were looking into your soul, to see what lay there, peeling you apart layer after layer. "Beaten by your sister early, perhaps? Or did you actually managed to defeat her this time?"

"I got lucky," Kenichi told him neutrally, watching Kimiko run and narrowly dodge the little boys' tackles.

"That's all it takes, usually," Rintaro told him, also turning his head to watch. "A little luck is what you need to win, though sometimes even that's not enough." Kenichi looked at the older boy again, searching his face for any sign of emotion. As usual there was none. His blank face was impossible to read, though sometimes you could see depression in his eyes. Expressionless, emotionless, uncaring: these were all words easily associated with the dark youth.

"You must have a lot of it then," Kenichi replied, hoping for any response beyond a quick grin that would fade as quickly as it appeared. Not even receiving that, he watched Rintaro turn for a moment, as if in consideration, only to turn away again.

"I just use what luck I have efficiently." Rintaro's response was dry, lacking any feeling.

So bitter and so empty for one so young, Kenichi thought, frowning at what his old friend had become. Looking into Rintaro's pale blue eyes, Kenichi could swear that they would pull you in just to fill the void in the boy's life.

He had not always been like that. Kenichi and he had somewhat been friends when they were children, though Rintaro's training limited their interaction to only one day per week. When the older boy began school, they grew apart and they both made other friends, though most of Kenichi's were shared with Mayako. Only within the last few years had Rintaro begun to change and close himself off from everyone. No one really knew who he was now.

"Be careful with that one, Kenichi," Rintaro stated flatly.

Raising an eyebrow, Kenichi stared at him, confused. "What do you mean? Careful with who?"

"Around Kimiko Nishiyama," the dark-haired boy replied coldly, turning to face Kenichi. His pale blue eyes seemed to glow in the shadows. "Don't mess around with her."

Even more confused, Kenichi frowned. "What do you mean?" Taking offense at the simple mention of not being with her, he easily filtered out his pity for the eldest Saotome child. "Why do you even care?"

"She's a dangerous one," Rintaro continued, not even recognizing Kenichi's question. "It's as if she were a stick of dynamite and someone's already lit the fuse. A relationship with her will only speed up the fire, if not detonate it." He blinked, meeting Kenichi's stare. "I wouldn't want to be around when she explodes."

Believing Rintaro to be a time bomb himself, Kenichi turned his head away from the dark youth, watching the two younger boys catch Kimiko, only to fall with her into the koi pond. He chuckled, turning back to Rintaro whose expressionless face had not even turned to see the commotion behind him.

"Remember what I said," he told Kenichi, walking past him curtly. Before he left earshot, he spoke one final piece of advice. "I wouldn't even mess around with her at all, if I were you. She's bad business."

"But you're not me," Kenichi muttered under his breath as he began walking to Kimiko. "And thank God I'm not you."

Sopping wet from her plunge, Kimiko stood facing away from him, ringing out the bottom of her blouse. Kenichi's little brother and Shintaro both remained in the pool to splash each other as the koi scattered from the youths. Turning in his direction, Kimiko smiled as she squeezed water from her gray blouse, which was now nearly transparent and clung tightly to her skin. Leaving little to his imagination, her wet bra now conformed to the shape of her breasts and showed him the outlines of her nipples. She released her grip on her blouse, covering her washboard stomach.

"Before you say anything," she began, rolling her sleeves up to her biceps. "I meant to do that." Glancing over to the boys leaving the pond, she brushed her wet bangs out of her eyes with her hand.

"Do you want to drip dry, or do you want me to get you a towel?" Kenichi asked, stopping to stand beside her. Though his words were flamboyant, he felt his stomach turn over, and a slight blush colored his face. He should have turned away and been a gentlemen, but the sight before him was too much to release. She did not notice, and took a step closer to him.

"Akane-san's getting us towels," she replied as she rested her hand on his shoulder. Her chill, damp hands sent sparks down his spine and sped up his heart. "I told her to bring four."

His mind began to shut off, but he managed to ask, "Why four?" As he recognized the light fragrance of her damp hair and the smell of mint toothpaste, the thought of her body so close energized him.

"Because you fell in too." Before he had a chance to react to her words, she drew him up against her for a brief second, right before twisting and lifting him. Though it seemed to take hours from the point his body limply rested upon hers to the point she tossed him over her hip towards the water, it did not take long for him to crash into the center of the shallow pool.

His head punctured the surface of the koi pond, as laughter pierced his ears. Spitting out sour water, he coughed. Regaining his senses and shuddering at the unexpected cold of the pond, he wiped his eyes. While his brother and Shintaro had already fallen down laughing, Kimiko only stood on the edge of the pool, holding out her hand for him. Though he should have been angry for the cheap tactic she had pulled to throw him into the water, he was not. Her blue eyes twinkled with enjoyment, a light they had probably been lacking in recent times. Unlike his sister, who could be quite vicious at times, Kimiko genuinely seemed playful, not intentionally trying to humiliate him. After all, she had fallen in as well.

Sliding to the edge of the pond, Kenichi firmly took Kimiko's offered hand, when the moment wiped away his sensibility. As if time had slowed to a crawl, he felt her sluggishly begin to haul him out of the water with her right arm. With one sharp tug, he countered her strength. For less than a second she resisted, but she did not have the leverage to sustain her position. Yelping in surprise, Kimiko fell forward. The lethargy of the moment manufactured time between the instant she slipped off the edge of the pond, and when she fell into his arms, like some fantastical dream right before he woke up.

Her wide eyes met his as their bodies collided and descended into the pool. The water slapped the back of Kenichi's head as he once more submerged into the cold water. She hovered above him as he tried to sit upright with her on top of him. Though the chill of the water was draining the warmth from their bodies, he still felt flush when he managed to push his head above the surface. His face pressed up against her, and only too late did he realize just where he had his open mouth. Disengaging his face from her breasts, he shifted to sit up straight to sit eye level with her. He could numbly feel her sitting upon his lap, one leg on each side of his waist. Her warm breath caressed his face, her hands firmly held his shoulders, and her slender body trembled against his.

He had not been this close to her since she had pinned him to the dojo mat the day before, he realized. Like hers, goosebumps rose on his arms as he very slowly placed his hands on her hips. She made no protest and did not even try to get off of him. It felt almost as if his body was on autopilot and he was just a vessel, helpless to stand by and watch. She only shivered as he tilted his head to the right and drew in close, sliding his eyes shut. A surge of adrenaline flooded his veins, his stomach cramped and a thousand other sensations overflowed his awareness.

And their closed lips met. She felt so warm in contrast with the water, that he only just began to feel their close embrace, the hardness of her nipples pressed up against his chest, his arms completely encircling her tiny waist, her hands grasping the back of his neck. He could feel her rapid heartbeat in close comparison to his own, taste the salt of her lips, and smell the sour water on her skin. The torrent of emotions burning within him made every inch of his body tingle, but just as his yearning for her was being sated, the moment ended.

A voice, familiar yet unrecognized cried out, "Is everything okay, Kenichi?" Kimiko pulled away from him and stood, leaving him there to shiver in the pool. Unable to move, he continued to sit as his mother handed Kimiko a towel. "Kenichi, are you all right?"

"He hit his head when he fell in the koi pond," Kimiko explained, her voice distant and hollow. Shivering uncontrollably within her towel, she looked at him with her brilliant blue eyes, the pain within them shining through for him to see. His stolen kiss had affected her demeanor, he could tell.

"Come out of the water and let me have a look at your head," his mother ordered, holding out a white towel for him. She looked at Kimiko for a moment, and then turned her face back to him.

Standing gradually, despite his shaky knees, Kenichi acknowledged her and slowly walked to her. Wrapping the towel around him, she took his shoulders and asked, "Where'd you hit your head?"

Shrugging, he clenched the towel to himself, unable to find warmth in it. As Akane began to probe his head for concussions, he looked past her at Kimiko who still stared at the water shivering, as if someone still sat there.

"You seem okay," his mother told him, smoothing back his hair. "You had me worried, sitting there like that in the pond." He turned his attention to his mother and smiled wearily. "I'll start the bath for the two of you, if you want." He nodded eagerly, but Kimiko did not even turn her head to acknowledge anything. "Kimiko-san?"

"Huh?" the redhead asked, shuddering abruptly as if someone had jumped out of the bushes, about to pounce on her. She turned, her eyes distant as she draped her towel around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Akane-san, what did you ask?"

Akane smiled, approaching the girl. "Would you like me to warm the bath for you?"

"Oh, no thanks," she replied, avoiding Kenichi's eyes entirely. "I did soak my only clean clothes, though." She turned, a sparkle of sunlight reflected off her eyes for an instant before her hair fell in her face, sticking to her skin. She quickly pushed it out of her eyes.

"I'm sure Mayako won't mind lending you some," Akane told her, placing her hand on Kimiko's shoulder. "I can take you up there right now, if you want." With a solemn nod, Kimiko acknowledged Kenichi's mother, and she shied her eyes from Kenichi's as she followed the older woman into the house.

His face appeared as blank as his thoughts were, confusion from the recent events still gripping him. Everything had started out like a fairy tale, a moment never to be forgotten. Her strange behavior after the fact did not fit into the puzzle he had begun to construct. He closed his eyes and brushed his lips with two outstretched fingertips. The bittersweet taste of her lips still remained, as did his whole impression of the moment, her wide green eyes, the feeling of her arms around his shoulders, her body pressed against his. What could have gone wrong?

Blinking his eyes open, he furrowed his brows. "Green eyes?"


The Nishiyama Clan
Kimiko Nishiyama (14-17?): Formerly Ranma Saotome (18), locked in female form.
Kiyoshi Nishiyama (20s?): Formerly Happosai (?), unknown cursed status. Owner of Nishiyama, Inc.

The Tendou Clan
Soun Tendou: Head of the Clan
Kasumi Tendou: Wife of Mousse, homemaker.
Mousse: Husband of Kasumi, currently on tour with his rock band.
Nabiki Tendou: Executive at Nishiyama, Inc.
Akane Tendou: Wife of Ryouga, teacher at the Tendou Dojo.
Ryouga Tendou: Husband of Akane, whereabouts unknown.
Reiko Tendou (17): Daughter of Kasumi and Mousse.
Kenichi Tendou & Mayako Tendou (15): Twins of Akane and Ryouga.
Eiji Tendou (7): Son of Akane and Ryouga.

The Saotome Clan
Genma Saotome: Husband of Nodoka.
Nodoka Saotome: Wife of Genma.
Rintaro Saotome (17): Son of Genma and Nodoka.
Shintaro Saotome (11): Son of Genma and Nodoka.

The Ono Clan
Shampoo Ono: Married to Tofo Ono. Manager of Ucchan's in Nerima.
Dr. Tofu Ono: Married to Shampoo Ono. Local chiropractor.
Ryosei Ono (16): Son of Shampoo Ono and Dr. Tofu Ono.
Mai Ono (15):Daughter of Shampoo Ono and Dr. Tofu Ono.

The Kuonji Clan
Ukyou Kuonji: Owner of Ucchan's chain restaurants, currently lives outside Nerima.