Ranma watched his reflection as it distorted and reformed
in time with the ripples from the gentle breeze blowing through
the valley. Finally, after two long weeks of bad weather, over-
zealous bandits, and less-than-generous innkeepers, he had
reached his goal.

It had taken him and the guide hours to navigate the
springs of Jusenkyo toward the fabled 'Spring of Drowned Man.' It
was a small, quiet spring roughly fifteen yards or so from the
center of the training ground.

[[It smaller than I think,]] Ranma said in broken Chinese,
more to himself than to the guide beside him. Ranma had learned
from his father's mistakes and had at least learned a little
Chinese during his trek across China.

[[Yes,]] the guide responded, [[it is the smallest spring
in Jusenkyo. There is no record of anyone falling into it by
accident.]]

Ranma nodded, still not taking his eyes off the rippling
waters that had eluded him for so long. An infinitely long
moment passed as Ranma stood at the pool's edge, poised to jump in.
Suddenly, in a flash of movement too fast to follow, Ranma was no
longer at the side of the spring, but was retracing his steps back
out of Jusenkyo, the guide trailing after him.