Identity, by Muphrid. A tribe of Chinese sorcerers captures Ranma to purge emotions from the hearts of men. A continuation story, set after the end of the manga.

What's going on here? As Keema puts her plan into action, Akane holds the line against the Sorcerers, but her mind is clouded. Something lurks where her eyes don't see, and that blindness will cost her dearly.

What Waits in the Shadow of Madder

Chapter Six, Act Three

"So Ryōga bursts in, yelling something like, 'Akane-san! Is Akane-san here? Did you find her?' Well, here Akane-chan is, out like a wet match, and all he can do is shake her shake her shake her like she's an empty bottle of ketchup that won't give up the last drop! I mean, gods! It was five in the morning! Do you not sleep, devil boy?"

Mousse winced. "Kuonji, your figures of speech are killing us."

"You're just too blind to see the genius in my words."

"Watch it, you petty…spatula scraper!"

" 'Spatula scraper'? Who're you calling a spatula scraper?"

"Enough!" Cologne rapped her walking stick on the stone floor. "Your explosive banter should be saved for another time, preferably after the real fireworks have gone off, hm?"

On the far side of the room, a team of Phoenix tribesmen carved a niche in the wall. An arm's length deep already, builders chipped and hammered at the crevice, for they brought with them a cart of assorted gunpowder derivatives and rockets—the explosive matériel to obliterate the remaining supports and bring the weight of the mountain on the Sorcerers below.

"All I'm saying is that I don't mind being concerned," Ukyō went on. "But didn't your parents raise you not to walk in on a girl as she's getting changed? I ought to lay you out for what you saw!"

"Oh?" asked Konatsu. "What did Ryōga-sama see?"

Ukyō gritted her teeth. "Nothing, thank gods! All his attention was fixated on Akane-chan, but that doesn't take away how I've been violated!"

"You do realize," said Ryōga, stifling a yawn, "that I'm in the room? That I can hear everything you say? I won't let you pull one over on everyone here. You were fast asleep when I barged in."

"Was not! I get up at five every morning to get my restaurant ready for the breakfast crowd!"

"But Ukyō-sama," said Konatsu, "we don't have a breakfast crowd."

"Yes we do!"

"And when the alarm goes off at five, you usually just yell at me to get the batter ready, to warm the cooking surface, light the—"

"Konatsu!"

"And then you go back to sleep until seven. Oh! Unless Ranma-sama came by the day before to pick something up. Then, you take fifteen extra minutes to—"

THWACK! Ukyō's battle spatula clunked over Konatsu's head.

"My point is that we were supposed to be resting for this great mission, and you two…" She pointed to Ryōga and Akane. "Your being out late meant I hardly got any real sleep either."

Konatsu beamed. "It's all right, Ukyō-sama—you're still beautiful without any beauty sleep!"

"Eheh, I suppose that's true…" Ukyō took a sliding step back.

"What's the matter?" asked Ryōga. "Isn't he your type? A studious, hard-working cross-dresser?"

"I may like to wear a set of trousers from time to time, but that doesn't mean I like my men in skirts!"

"Ranma's not above wearing a skirt."

"That's diff—mmh!" A hand clasped over Ukyō's mouth. Shampoo drew her mace…

And Konatsu caught it by the end, below the bulb. "What are your intentions toward my Ukyō-sama?"

Ukyō batted Shampoo's hand away. "What do you mean your Ukyō-sama?"

"Ah, that is—"

"Two stupid people shut up!" hissed Shampoo. Her gaze shot to the chamber entrance, an open hollow in the rock that led to the interior passages. The room froze, yet echoing through the tunnels, some faint whispers remained.

With knowing glances all around, the group drew their weapons. Ryōga put his back to the inside wall, hiding himself and his umbrella from sight. Shampoo took position left of the door, and on the right, as voices and footfalls rose ever louder…

"YAH!"

Akane drove her spear forward and held it a hair's breadth from her target's chin.

"Are you crazy?" With dark skin and black wings, the visitor nudged the tip of the spear away with his forefinger. "You could've killed me!"

"As one should expect," said Cologne. "You're a fool, Korma, if you think you can approach these chambers without someone giving challenge."

"Hmph. Well, I guess it's good to see even you outsiders are taking this seriously."

"Is that what brought you here?" asked Mousse. "You just dropped by to check if we were paying attention?"

"I'd rather pluck my own feathers. No, Captain Keema asked me to tell you when our charge was planted. My men are pulling back to the next level. Yours should be the last."

"You're not staying?" Cologne huffed. "Keema seems quite confident this plan of hers will succeed."

"The captain felt too much movement all at once could make the Sorcerers suspicious."

"Is that so?" Cologne narrowed her eyes. "Yes, yes, I'm sure she did. Very well. If you're so eager to get away from the fireworks, so be it. Off with you."

Korma nodded. "Don't blow yourselves up."

With a sneer, Cologne watched Korma and his men go. Her gaze flickered to a pair of handset radios, which stood in a box separate from the firework cluster.

"That won't reach Keema from here, you know," said Ryōga.

"Indeed. And I suspect, even if it did, there would be no answers on the other end."

#

"So because Keema's actions don't make sense," said Ukyō, rolling her eyes, "we have to be the ones to check it out. Honestly, has no one been paying attention? What Keema does never makes any sense!"

"Great-grandmother say we should look closer, not complain."

"Shh!" said Akane. "Do you want them to hear you?"

Shampoo and Ukyō eyed her strangely. "What, do they have super senses from the planet Krypton?" asked the latter. "Able to hear sharp needles drop in an empty room?"

"I'm just saying we should be careful.."

"Careful's fine. We're two turns away from them, and yeah, if we got any closer, maybe they'd blast us to pieces. Gods help me if I have to be dead quiet while we wait for what's probably nothing."

"Is not nothing if Great-grandmother say not nothing."

"Oh, yes, I'd love to know that first-hand…" Ukyō folded her arms. "And not just by hanging out with our ears pressed to the wall."

With Shampoo in the lead, the three girls huddled close to the tunnel wall. Perhaps Cologne had nothing concrete to suspect the Sorcerers of, but Keema's unusual tactics had piqued her concern.

"But for these diggers here," Cologne had said, pointing out the explosives crew, "we're alone. And if I were in Keema's position with people I claim not to wholly trust, either I keep them as spread out and separated as possible, or I do as she's done—I keep them in one place. With us as the last to finish this affair, I dare say Keema isn't entirely unhappy if we should end up with trouble while the rest of her people are safely above."

So faced with this potential threat, she sent Akane, Shampoo, and Ukyō to investigate the Sorcerers' doings. Whether she felt confident they could complete this task unnoticed…

"Well, at the very least," she'd muttered, "it'll get the three of you out of earshot, so I needn't listen to any petty bickering."

…let's just say that wasn't the first thing on her mind.

"One can hear much with ear and glass pressed to wall," said Shampoo.

"Again, not the point."

And it seemed her concern wasn't unwarranted, either.

"Is not?" Shampoo blinked. "Well, Ukyō right. Three of us no want stand here all day listening. Should take action." She smirked. "I say Akane go forward."

"Me?"

"Just poke head around corner there and pull back quick if Sorcerer shoot ice lance at you," she said, grinning.

Akane gripped her spear, taking a step. True, if all she did was dart around the corner and back, odds were she would avoid most of the possible fatal injuries…

"Oh no you don't!" Ukyō yanked her by the collar. "Don't listen to her; she's just trying to get you riled. After all, why would a girl who's grown up in the wilderness ask someone from real civilization to do her job for her?" Ukyō raised an eyebrow. "Or maybe she was never very good at hunting or sneaking around and the like, hm?"

Shampoo narrowed her eyes. "Is fine then. You stay. Shampoo show how sneaking done." She stormed down the tunnel, her bulbs swaying back and forth as she walked.

And her maces, too.

"My," said Ukyō. "She's not exactly subtle, is she."

"How's that?" asked Akane.

"She wanted you to go out there and get slaughtered."

"Oh, no, you don't really think—"

"I know it."

Akane peered out, clenching her fingers around the shaft of the spear. "You might be right."

"Don't tell me you forgot she tried to kill you."

"Of course not!" Akane glanced away, shaking her head. "I just can't understand it, though—to think anyone, even Shampoo, would kill for Ranma's sake…"

"You wouldn't?"

"You would?"

Ukyō flinched. "That's not—I mean, this isn't about me. I keep to my word, unlike that conman who ran off with my family's property and never meant to make good on his promise." Stern, she met Akane's gaze. "But you have to have thought about it. Say we get out of here and go back to Tōkyō. What then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, say there's still the three of us plus that crazy flower girl. Whatever else happens, there's going to be a fight for Ranma's heart. Maybe not with arrows and knives, maybe not even with our bare fists, but it'll happen. Are you ready for that?"

Akane eyed the tip of her spear. "No, I don't think I am."

"Really? You mean it?" Ukyō laughed. "So that fool Ryōga was wrong then. I knew he had to be making it up."

"Making what up?"

"That you—" She stifled a giggle. "That you came down the morning we left and said point-blank, 'I love Ranma, and I'll do whatever it takes to get him back,' or some such. I knew that moron must've misheard!" She erupted in laughter. "What an idiot! I can't believe—"

Thud. The blunt end of Akane's spear hit the rock beneath their feet, and the sound echoed through the tunnel, reverberating even when Ukyō's snickers died out.

"I did say something like that."

"But you just said you wouldn't fight—"

"I won't fight because whatever contest or showdown you put in front of me for Ranma's sake, I won't be involved in." Her eyes flashed, staring Ukyō down. "Shampoo attacked me because I told her that, but I'll tell you the same. You can impress Ranma. You can earn his respect if you don't have it, but I don't know how to win his heart. Do you? Do you really think if you outclass everyone else who wants him in martial arts, in cooking, in everything else, that you can make him love you and you alone?"

Ukyō gritted her teeth. "So I see. It's easy, isn't it, to say you won't fight for what you think is already yours. Fine then! Just know this, Akane-chan: whatever you think your relationship is with Ranchan, I'm still here. His family still owes me. I'll do what I have to. Understand?"

Akane nodded slowly but said nothing.

"Good." Ukyō peeked around the corner, leaning past her, and stared into the dark. "That's just…good."

No it's not, thought Akane. It's definitely not because I lied to you, Ukyō. I don't understand it at all.

And even with the admission—to herself, to her family—that she felt drawn to Ranma, that she yearned for him, longed for him, loved him…none of that put to rest her confusion, her inability to comprehend what happened right before her eyes. Ukyō and Shampoo, for all their faults, possessed qualities that Akane could never have. They had initiative to pursue Ranma no matter how he might rebuff them. They had cunning to manipulate him when it seemed he might look to another. They had cleavage to attract him when his eyes might stray…

Akane frowned. Best not to harp on that aspect of it; she really might never have that quality, no matter how she tried. Not unless she could convince the doctor down the road to become a plastic surgeon and give her a nice graduation present.

But none of those faults and shortcomings seemed to matter to Ranma. That's why Akane could say so confidently—to Shampoo, to Ukyō, to whomever else—that no amount of competition or duels of any kind would win Ranma's love, but what could turn his heart even Akane didn't know.

That's why Shampoo baffled her. To have the moral indifference to murder was alien enough. To think it would endear her to Ranma, or that it would make it easier for her, despite the consequences…

Akane shook her head. That wasn't it at all, was it? Shampoo had long tried to separate her from Ranma. She wiped Akane's mind of all memory of him; she lamented that Akane was too stubborn to let it stick, for if it had, Shampoo wouldn't have attacked her then, many months ago, and tried to kill her before Ranma's eyes.

Was Shampoo's choice—to brainwash her first rather than kill her—an ounce of pragmatism? A measure of compassion? A little of both? Either way, something had changed since then. Akane wasn't merely an obstacle to Ranma anymore. Shampoo's biting words were like barbs under Akane's skin. "Those who no know how to fight well eventually fall," she'd said, and now, before the Sorcerers' foothold, she wanted to put Akane to the test, prove her inferiority as a warrior, and let her bleed on the stone floor with a spear of ice in her gut.

These were the marks of hate, and Shampoo wasn't the only one to bear them. Ukyō wore them differently, behind devotion to Ranma, dedication to a promise, an oath of honor, but whatever duty she felt, she'd made her intentions clear: when they returned to Nerima, it would be war. Maybe not the way Shampoo might wage it, but war nonetheless. And perhaps, despite her prideful words, Ukyō hoped as Shampoo did—that somehow, in her darkest dreams and fantasies, the girl who stood in her way might cease to be, by Ukyō's own hand or someone else's. She might push it from her consciousness or say she loathes the idea to Akane's face, yet the things we're too ashamed to admit wanting tend to hide in the shadows of the human heart. In a mirror maze, when what we see seems bent and distorted, perhaps the truth is shown in its clearest hue.

Looking upon Ukyō—how she clenched her teeth and stared down the empty hall, making no move to engage Akane, as if she weren't even there—the Tendō girl shivered. Such thoughts made the faint hairs on her arms stiffen and quiver. The mountain could hardly be called a warm and inviting place, yet now, trapped with two girls—one who definitely wanted her dead and another who might not mind to see it happen—Akane sank in the frigid doom around her, for unlike these girls, who seemed so certain that Ranma's love would make their world a fantasy, Akane was hardly so inspired. Truly, his casual smile, his burning determination—they could raise spirits for miles around, but so long as Ranma loved her yet she knew not why, she had to wonder: did he see her clearly, or was what he loved an illusion? Could he truly care for who she was, or was there something dark and ugly he'd yet to see in her—a phantom that lurked before her eyes, like the visions of Ukyō's dreams?

Like the memory of a night that disappeared in the shadows of her soul?

Her teeth chattered. Her toes curled with dampness and cold. Maybe Ukyō was right. There's something I should remember. I should know why Ranma loves me. I should know what happened when I went to see Keema…but why is it so cold?

"Akane-chan, water."

She opened her eyes, and a flow of icy water ebbed at their ankles.

"Bizarre," said Ukyō, dipping her finger in the wake. "If their ice were melting bit by bit, it should flow down, but we're above them."

"Unless," said Akane, "it melted so fast it had nowhere else to go."

The girls exchanged a glance.

Plink, plink, plink!

And Shampoo dashed past them, kicking up water at her heels.

"Run!"

#

Boom, boom, boom. Dust shook loose from the ceiling and scattered on the floor. Where the Phoenix buried their bomb, Cologne stood watch, her radio in hand.

"I'll stay with the charge—"

Z-z-zap! A flash of light shined from the tunnels, but its otherworldly glow foretold neither victory nor defeat.

"I'll stay with the charge," Cologne finished. "Keep those Sorcerers away and below. You have five minutes, gentlemen, to get the girls out, and not even for my Shampoo will I wait a second longer. Go!"

And so the boys charged into battle headlong, but a slick, icy tunnel robbed them of traction. They wobbled. They stretched their arms for balance, leverage, but it was futile. They tumbled face-first and slid into the fray instead.

"You want to keep a better look where you're going?" said Mousse.

"Oh? You think you can see the way better?" asked Ryōga.

Konatsu snagged a handhold on the tunnel wall and dragged them both to their feet. "Less talking," he said. "More fighting, yes?"

Z-Z-ZAP! Lightning blasted a hole in the tunnel wall. Rounding the corner came the embattled defenders: Akane, surrounded, cut and slashed at the air, driving back her attackers with the frantic swiped of her spear. Fireballs bounced and ricocheted off Ukyō's spatula, but the flames pushed down the length of the handle, charring the polish on her fingernails. The lone aggressor of the bunch, Shampoo darted off the ceiling and pushed the attack against the enemy. Though a spike of ice ripped her sleeve, she batted a Sorcerer into the rock and charged further still, for no number of foes deterred her. She was a warrior of the tribe, and before her fists, her feet, or tempered steel maces, the enemies of her people would fall.

WHAM! But surely, she wouldn't begrudge some help from Ryōga's fist. As one Sorcerer rocketed down the path, Mousse and Konatsu laid waste to the others, for a sole kunoichi could spar with a dozen of the Guard, giving time for Mousse to draw his strange and exotic assortment of weaponry: iron chains yanked Sorcerers off their feet, and razor-hooks ripped at their hair, their eyes, their clothes.

"Come on!" Ryōga's umbrella batted away Akane's attackers; he took her by the wrist. "The old crone didn't give us much time!"

Over rock and ice they scampered uphill, lobbing steel-tipped arrows and cooking spatulas as they ran. Knowing the tunnels a fraction better than their pursuers, they put ground behind them for a while…

THWAP!

Until the fastest element of their foes caught them. A column of ice shot past, plowing into the end of the tunnel.

"Ahh!" Akane stumbled. Her hands and knees skidded on the rock.

"This is no place to lose your footing!" said Ukyō.

But a sharp, stinging pain pulsed from Akane's side. She put a hand to her hip and felt through tattered fabric. The skin was dry and cold.

The blood was neither.

"Take her by the arm," Ukyō told Konatsu. "Akane-chan's been hit!"

" 'Hit'?" said Ryōga.

Meekly, Akane held out her red, sticky palm. Fluids seeped from the scrape on her side, soaking into her shirt.

And down the hall, the way they'd come, stood Wuya, whose stalwart men filed in behind her.

Ryōga scowled. "All of you go on," he said. "Leave her to me."

"Were you born stupid?" said Mousse. "Do you know how much time we have?"

Shaking, he took Akane's bloodied hand. "It doesn't matter. Should I have to hold a minute, an hour, a day…"

He closed her fingers, and with tears streaming down his face, he kissed her on the knuckle.

"I would do it without hesitation."

Ryōga-kun…why?

He opened his umbrella and crouched behind it like a Spartan with his shield. Though ice and fire bombarded the canopy, he locked his fingers around the handle and shaft, so no Sorcerer would blast it from his grip, but even Ryōga must've known, despite his determination, that a battle of one versus a dozens of Sorcerers would be a hopeless cause. He must've known, for even he dared not engage them and risk falling in less than a minute's tick on Cologne's clock.

That's why—one can only imagine, at least—he pressed his bare index finger to the floor and, with it, shattered the tunnel to bury himself, and the Sorcerers, in tons of rock.

"Ryōga-kun!"

Ukyō and Konatsu grabbed her by the arms, holding her back from the sinking pit. "I'm sorry, Akane-sama," said the kunoichi, "but we really must go."

Her feet carried her, yet they worked on their own, for Akane's mind could hardly do the driving.

Why, Ryōga-kun? She touched a finger to the back of her hand, to the knuckle where his lips had met her skin. We've been such good friends, despite your problems with Ranma. I never understood why you fought so. Should I now? Could it be that you and Ranma weren't just competing with each other? The same way Ukyō, Shampoo, and I…

"This way!" From a gray light at tunnel's end, Cologne's voice echoed through the halls. Toward rain and wind the defenders fled, but the rumblings of shifting rock gave chase. Into the storm the group emerged, for under the shelter of a thin canopy, both Phoenix and Amazon took shelter, waiting on the switch in Cologne's hand.

"Please, you have to wait!" Akane's weight came back to her as Ukyō and Konatsu released her. She fell to a knee before Cologne; her hands grasped at the elder's robe, tinting the cloth with blood. "Please," she begged. "Ryōga-kun's still inside! We have to wait!"

"You're on the run from Sorcerers!" cried Korma. "We can't wait any longer!"

Cologne frowned, stern and resolute. She marched to the rock face, radio in hand, and pressed her palm to the sheer wall of the mountain, feeling the pulse of battle within.

"Believe me when I say it, Tendō: it is no easy thing to sacrifice a child. I know—I've given up my own flesh for higher causes. Difficult as it may be, there are many reasons to do just that. I chose for my flesh the greater good. What would you chose for your friend in there, for Hibiki, hm?"

Akane shuddered.

"You still tremble with uncertainty? Well now, I know what I choose. Battles fought must be finished. The effort we expend seeking the truth and defense of others should not be wasted by indecision." She opened a covered switch on the side of the handset. "He made his choice, Tendō. I don't condemn him for it. Nay, I honor it."

Click!

BAM BAM BAM! Rubble blasted from the side of the mountain, spraying the plain below. Boulders tumbled and rained past the covered platform. Rock crumbled, breaking apart in slow-motion, and though the debris posed no threat to the defenders—the blast zones were a home run away at nearest length—the scale of the explosions rattled them all. It wasn't just their corner of the mountain that crashed down. Nay, from these fireworks, no pebble had been spared. Such the Phoenix had willingly done to save what was remained of their kingdom—they watched a piece of their lands shrivel, wither, and die in the Sorcerers' hands, and they mustered the wherewithal to cut that piece away, like a surgeon excises a frostbitten foot or a necrotic patch of skin.

Like Ryōga, who showed what he'd given—a piece of his heart to Akane, who'd never known, never thought, to take it. Like Cologne, who gave her blood and family for something bigger than herself. To give a life for something Akane understood—she'd made that sacrifice or prepared herself for it. She'd thrown her doll-like body into Saffron's fireball to save Ranma, not knowing she'd escape alive, but her life alone wouldn't buy Ranma's safe return. How could it? When the people around her—Ryōga and Cologne, Ukyō and Shampoo, the Phoenix and their enemies—would all sacrifice something more.

They'd give up pieces their souls.

And there was nothing demonic or evil in that. They'd give up their innocence, their family—everything that was dear to them, everything that made them whole. They were willing to lead fragmented lives to hang on tightly to whatever was left. They were willing to change. Nay, they expected it, counted on it—that maybe, when it was all done, they wouldn't be so different, they wouldn't regret they'd changed at all.

Ryōga—he came after Ranma for a grudge, and maybe, if things happened any other way, they would've settled it and he'd have gone. But he didn't go. He came back. He came back polite and kind, at least to her. Was he always that way, or did he change? Did he change to suit her?

Didn't Ukyō change? To bear the time until she found Ranma, she made herself look like a man. She would've given up cooking if it wasn't so ingrained in her.

And Akane?

She'd changed, too. She'd resolved to learn cooking. When did that idea come into her mind? Was it before he came through her door? Was it after? When she looked in the mirror and brushed the stray hairs from her face, did she do it because she enjoyed looking pretty? Or because she wanted him to see it?

No! It's not— She shook her head. They're different! What these people give up to survive…what I do to save Ranma and how I look at home—they're not the same!

Staring at the stone floor, her eyes found a puddle, a pool of dripping rainwater. She crouched over the surface, peering at her own reflection, but she saw only gray—a blank, empty, formless shadow.

"Come on then," said Cologne, tapping her stick on the floor. "I'd like to spend no more of my time in the rain than necesar—"

WHAM! Where rubble and boulders had blocked the tunnel, pebbles and dirt came loose, rolling from the exit.

"Ready!" said Korma.

The tips of swords, the points of arrowheads—all leveled on the once-sealed tunnel. The troops gathered in a semi-circle, awaiting the enemy breach…

Ka-thud.

But, to their relief, a boy plowed through the rock, clutching his umbrella and a dirty, spotted bandana.

"Ryōga-kun!"

"Did I make it?" he sat up, woozy. "Mama, did I make it home in time for supper?"

"This is a joke, right?" Ukyō strapped her spatula to her back. "You're telling me he found us after boring through tons of rock? That nit actually found something for once?"

Ka-WHAM! A blast! The defenders backed off, and Ryōga too scampered to his feet, clearing the way for spray of debris.

"On your guard!" said Cologne. "I shouldn't expect another of ours to come through that hole!"

THWAP! A column of ice shot through the tunnel exit and shattered! Shards peppered the defenders, cutting at their hands and arms as they shielded their faces from frozen shrapnel.

And through the breach stepped a lone Sorcerer, staff in hand.

"Fire!" said Korma, and the Phoenix warriors obeyed. They pulled at their bowstrings, sending a speedy shower of arrows to obliterate their foe.

Ching-ching-ching! The arrowheads dug into ice. A thin panel of frost shielded the Sorcerer, and he hovered to the edge of the platform, the precipice of escape, where the Phoenix people's great sacrifice would be all for naught if he penetrated the higher mountain.

Flick, thud!

But the Sorcerer, in his haste, forgot to protect his flank, and Shampoo's arrow stuck in his back. He crashed amid the fragments of his own ice shield, and the warriors of the Phoenix tribe gathered around their wounded foe.

KA-PAM!

…who greeted them with a flash of fire to their eyes. Embers seared their eyelids; their bows and daggers fell to the floor. Blinded, dazed, the Phoenix tribesmen wandered helplessly, feeling about the black that only their eyes could see.

"Give him no chance to flee!" said Cologne. "Attack!"

And attack the Nerima party did. Konatsu darted in the shadows of the walking wounded, lobbing shuriken from angles high and low, but the Sorcerer too was quick and crafty, and the throwing stars spun into the storm outside—or cut at the Phoenix who couldn't see them at all.

Into the maze of bodies they all charged—some more callously than others. Shampoo's maces worked furiously, clearing the forest of wounded souls before her with neither pity nor remorse nor fear, yet Akane found the wall of bodies immovable, impassable, and had to watch the fight from afar.

There is something wrong with me.

That's what Ukyō said, and she was right. Since the moment Konatsu snapped her spear before she even had time to blink, since she returned to her sleeping bag the night before to find it early morning instead of night.

'One does what one must,' said a voice in her mind. 'One cuts with the blade she is given, however dull or nicked it may be.'

Cologne's walking stick bashed in the Sorcerer's kneecap. He staggered, kneeling, but a flurry of lightning drove the Amazon matriarch back.

'We all wield the power we have within us.'

Shampoo's maces swiped under his chin. He backpedaled, limping, and blasted her feet with waves of pressure, carving divots in the floor. The blinded Phoenix tribesmen scattered from the blasts. They opened a whole for Akane, and for the Sorcerer to back into her bath.

'Look at me, child…'

"Tendō, strike at him!" said Cologne. "Quickly!"

She clenched the shaft of her spear. She gripped it with her right hand back, left hand forward, both from below—like a digger wields a shovel, to drive the blade into the Sorcerer's back, and slay him she would to protect herself and her friends. That much she would do to prove herself worthy of standing with them.

The Sorcerer caught her gaze, but it was too late. She planted her front foot; she thrust!

'And obey your master once again!'

Her muscles tensed. The blade halted, an inch from skin, but not the Sorcerer's flesh. A stray Phoenix warrior, clawing at his own eyes, had wandered into Akane's path. With one stroke, she could finish them both, and yet…

"What are you doing, Tendō?" shouted Cologne. "Strike! Shove the bird away if you must, but strike!"

She turned the spear to its blunt end and held it to the Phoenix warrior's neck, but even then, she froze. A force, invisible and silent, pulled at her. It was everywhere and nowhere, for it stayed her hand long before her brain could say otherwise.

"I—I can't!"

The Sorcerer laughed to himself. He batted the Phoenix warrior away, shoving him into Akane's body, toppling them both, and before the stunned Nerima party, he formed a line of snowflakes from his fingertips, connecting him to a victim who stood too close to avoid it.

"Child, move!" said Cologne.

THWAP!

Futile words they were, for though Shampoo left her feet, the spike found her. Her blood mixed with seeping rainwater in pools and swirls, forming the pale imitation of a shade of red.

It was the shadow of madder, the shadow in which Keema herself had hidden, lurking in the folds and crevices of Akane's mind.

Next: With Keema's control over them not yet extinguished, Cologne faces a terrible choice: attack the Phoenix and save their minds, or battle the Sorcerers and save their lives. Phoenix and Amazon wrestle for reign over Akane's soul in "The Battle of Phoenix Mountain" Part IV - "Substances Immiscible" - Coming January 21, 2011.

For notes and commentary on this chapter and others, visit my blog at westofarcturus [dot] blogspot [dot] com, or follow the link in my profile.