Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. A few others are mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.

"Learning Curve"

Part XX (v1.3)

by: J. Wagner

1951 CE

Korea

Hsing Kung wrung the water from his hat, and looked up with a mixture of disgust and annoyance. It wasn't even a pleasant cooling rain, like after a long day's work back home - it was a cold, depressing rain that only served to make an already bad day worse. Wiping his forehead, he questioned, not for the first time, whether it was wise to have gotten so worked up about marching into Korea for the 'good of the people.' True, he'd been excited by the idea of going anywhere remotely different from his village, he always had, but it was starting to get tedious... and dangerous.

Luckily, he hadn't been pushed to the front to fight any of the United Nations and American troops. Instead, they'd kept him in the rear, shuffled from one minor position to another, in half a dozen units. He just didn't fit in anywhere - how could he? The last thing he wanted was to be put into a position where he had to kill or even wound another person. Hsing suspected that if push came to shove, he'd probably run.

Shouldering his rifle, he pushed forward a little faster, the muck at his feet kicking up onto his pants. They were already dirty and wet, though, so it hardly mattered. To his side, he saw that the other soldiers he'd been stationed with were similarly uncomfortable, and looking to stop for at least a few minutes, but none of them were in charge. Leading them from almost in front was a foreigner: a Russian man, and a 'military advisor' from the U.S.S.R. He seemed fairly young, definitely no older than Hsing himself, but he was obviously more athletic. A large man, though not husky, he was tall, and had kept up a constant marching pace for hours.

Sighing to himself, Hsing almost got up the courage to try and ask the man for some sort of pit stop, but chickened out at the last second. The Russian was almost always scowling or brooding about something, and didn't look like the kind of person to argue with. Instead, Hsing occupied himself by thinking back to his little village, where he'd been born and raised. A family of farmers, he'd had a younger brother and four sisters. He'd never really felt that close to them, except for his youngest sister, Shih, but now he felt like he missed them terribly. The constant bickering behind their father's back was far preferable to the sound of gunfire in the distance, and roar of jets and helicopters, and the deafening roar of artillery.

Which was itself quite odd.

Hsing had never felt any real fondness for the life he'd been born into. He'd been listless and feeling cooped up at home more often than not, and the only escape he'd found was in reading about the rest of China, and then the rest of the world. Self taught, he'd hoped, eventually, to get a job in a city somewhere, and maybe travel someday - India perhaps. Someplace with a rich history he could get lost in, and secluded places where he could just sit and think. Eventually, maybe, he'd write a book.

A wet leaf smacked Hsing in the face, and he took a moment to swat it away.

He'd been called up, and instead of running for it, had decided that it was a great opportunity to get out, and see some different places, maybe meet different and exciting people... He'd heard legends of great martial artists, ancient places forgotten by most men, and sights of natural beauty. He wanted to see them before he died. He wanted to experience them, and through them, feel unique and special. So he'd packed up what little personal items he'd hoarded over his twenty years of life, and headed off to fight in Korea, for the good of Communism everywhere.

Or something like that.

Truthfully, Hsing doubted that was the reason he and countless others had been sent into North Korea. From what he'd heard, and put together, the war had been going on for some time before they were sent in, with the North Koreans driving the Europeans defending the corrupt government in the south almost to the sea. Then there'd been a big turnabout and the Northern troops had been routed by the American General Macarthur. When they were pushed to the Chinese border, Chinese troops were finally sent to bail them out.

Some cause it turned out to be: shoring up a buffer state. Not that it mattered, the cause hadn't really factored into him deciding to come. He'd just wanted to get away. Now, he just wanted to go back. ...Or did he? What did he have to look forward to at home? Becoming a farmer to a tiny plot of land... not even that - becoming a tenant farmer to a tiny plot of communal land, nothing to his name, no legacy and no future.

He could read and write, though, and though he'd taught himself most of the outside knowledge he had, there was no guarantee at all that he'd be able to get more of an education, or if he were lucky, go to a college somewhere. He might just end up stuck in the military machine, then. Or maybe blown up or shot. Not that it'd be anti-climactic, he started to think... ironically, being caught in some huge explosion would actually be the high point of his life. Not exactly something to tell the grandkids, unless he survived as a broken, crippled, bitter old man, but still...

Suddenly, Hsing felt something chill run down his spine.

Gathering his courage, he decided to ask their leader for a break. "Sir?"

"What?" The man asked, curly, in very passable Chinese.

"I was wondering if we could stop for a few moments."

"No," he almost snarled, and kept walking, slightly faster than before.

"But..." Hsing pressed.

"NO," The man repeated, louder this time.

Hsing balked, and let it drop. For a few seconds, light shone down through the trees above, and he felt like enjoying it. The moment lasted only a second, before a tremendous howl split the air, and it seemed like from every angle, fire lapped up at him. He heard people yelling, softly, in a way - nearly silent compared to the explosion they'd been caught in. Instantly, Hsing threw himself to the ground, without even thinking, his mind instantly focused on recanting his earlier thoughts that being blown to bits would be the 'high point' of his life.

He wanted to live!

Even if it meant being a farmer in a rice patty, or a guard patrolling some tiny outpost in the middle of nowhere, he wanted to live! Then, as soon as it had happened, it seemed to be over, and a heartbeat later, the air was filled with the sound of gunfire. He looked up, through the smoke, and saw someone, another soldier, running around, his gun pointed into the air, firing on full automatic. Shaking the stars from his vision, Hsing quickly patted himself down, checking to make sure he was whole and functioning, even as the adrenalin shot to his brain, flooding any attempt at logic with all consuming fight or flight instincts.

Then he saw someone lying on the ground, clutching his arm, smoke rising from his body. It was their leader, and through the blasted bits of dirt, Hsing could see the man's grimace of pain where he lay, curled up in obvious agony. The sound of some sort of machinegun, and tufts of the ground spitting up into the air almost deterred him, almost sent him running.

Almost.

Running through the downpour of fire, Hsing leapt and quickly dragged the man to the safety of the brush, behind a large and sturdy looking tree. Looking down at the soldier he'd saved, Hsing saw the man's left hand clenched tightly, a shard of metal imbedded in the palm, and sticking out the back. Hsing was tempted to try and pull it out, but the other man stopped him.

"Leave... leave it in. Can't... lose blood," he said, between gritted teeth.

Hsing only nodded, somewhat dumbly. Getting slowly to his feet, and holding what seemed to be a broken rib or two, the larger man swallowed, hard, and motioned for them to fall back. Above, the sound of gunfire had diminished to nothing, and whatever had fired down at them, most likely a helicopter, or maybe a plane, was gone. Not that they could have done much against it anyway.

"What about..." Hsing looked around, quickly, for any more wounded.

"Probably already dead." He took Hsing's shoulder with his good hand. "Come on. Follow me."

"But..." He hesitated, before giving in and following the man they'd been assigned to 'escort' to wherever he had been headed, wherever they were.

"You saved my life." The Russian, or perhaps half Russian, now that Hsing got a good look at him, looked down at his bloody left hand. "What is your name, comrade?"

"Hsing... Hsing Kung." He made a quick salute, more out of nervous habit than anything else.

"Hsing." The man repeated, as they walked at a quick pace. "I'll remember that. Bishop Verikov never forgets a favor."

***

1999 CE

China.

Mousse wiped a hint of perspiration from his brow with his sleeve as the village came into view. He'd been building himself up for a visit home since he'd won the Onsen 'Hot Springs Obstacle' Race, back in Japan. Still, he found the surge of memories and the hesitation of returning stronger than he had assumed it would be.

"Something wrong?"

"No," Mousse answered, quickly, picking up his pace.

Tso Pu didn't pry, and the group moved towards the village walls in silence. The main gate was open, like he had always remembered it being, and found his thoughts returning to Herb, the Musk Prince. Mousse had heard of him, though only in passing. Actual information on the ancient enemies of the Joketsuzoku Amazons was rare to come by.

All he'd learnt, as a boy, was that the Musk were like animals - fierce, brutal, xenophobic, and worst of all in the eyes of the Amazons: patriarchal. Their Prince had certainly acted the part, blasting Mousse without warning with some sort of Ki energy, and kidnapping Ukyou - his friend.

His close friend.

Inside the walls, Mousse watched silently as the three women that had 'escorted' him back from Jyusenkyou went their own way. Mouse had half expected Tso Pu to say something in parting, perhaps to remind him of their deal not to mention that they had been in the forbidden valley of Jyusenkyou, or something else to try and get him in her pocket. Sure enough, the tall sister of Shan Pu paused, for a moment, looking at him over her shoulder.

But she seemed to think twice, and kept walking.

Emboldened, by their leader's lack of parting words, Plun opened her ugly maw. "You go back to male friends, Moo. Don't play the warrior you know you're not."

"Of course." Mousse smiled, warmly, before switching to Japanese. "I won't bother you anymore, you walking sack of garbage."

Plun grimaced, not understanding.

"I'll see you in hell, you dirty bitch." Waving and smiling smugly, Mouse spun on his heel, and stalked into the heart of the male quarter. He hated the place, more than any other, which was exactly why he made sure to see it, and to keep it burnt into his memory. The male quarter of the Joketsuzoku village consisted of three longhouse type buildings, mud brick, with thatched roofs. These were the bachelor houses, where the unattached male Amazons stayed, and worked away their menial lives, doing chores the rest of the village would shun.

And shun they did, those who did the jobs, if not the jobs themselves.

He watched as three of them noticed him, and stopped cleaning the large rug they'd obviously been assigned to deal with. They were pathetic, really - beaten mentally, if not physically, and subservient to all women, and even married men. These men and boys, though none present were younger than fifteen, had not been picked by any female Amazons for marriage, and as such were homeless. Kicked out when they came of age by their families, and unwanted or unwelcome by any single unmarried women, because of their health, appearance, or any number of unknown things, they congregated together in their hovels.

Mousse had been one of them once, though that seemed an eternity ago.

He spread his arms, and one of the three came forward, blinking his eyes as if seeing a mirage. He was a thin man, a year or so Mousse' senior, with thick braided black hair, kept just above shoulder length - as was the custom. Males were forbidden to have longer than shoulder length hair, as were disgraced females. Long hair was maintained by those who fight and lead, and among the Joketsuzoku, males did neither. It was the reason Mousse kept his hair long, in defiance of that stereotype, and out of pride for his own forbidden fighting abilities.

"I can't believe you came back, Mu Tzu." The man smiled, a thin moustache clinging to his upper lip. The two men were almost the exact same height, and Mousse openly embraced the man, clasping his shoulders firmly.

"Had to sooner or later. At least until they finally kick me out. How you holding up, Rho Bu?" Mousse let go of the guy's shoulders, and crossed his arms.

"Not so great, Mu. You know how it is..."

"What about Lo Shin?"

Rho shook his head. "Didn't work out. She is still single, though. Just didn't pick me."

"Sorry to hear that." Mousse meant it - Robe had been dedicated to the male Amazon lifestyle, and he was a good, honest, hard worker. Mousse still found him spineless, like all Amazon males, but he was an all right person, and deserved some measure of happiness.

"You'll..."

"I'll find a woman, yet?" Rho sighed. "Was that what you were about to say, Mu? I'm not getting any younger."

Mousse nodded, understanding. After twenty-five, it was almost impossible for a male Amazon to get picked by a female, especially with the 'option' of finding a strong outsider male instead of a domestic native one. It was the hypocrisy that Mousse had always most abhorred, and part of the reason he so disliked Saotome Ranma. Amazons found, in a strong outsider male, a good mate, and yet in an Amazon male, expected servitude and weakness. It was a double standard, and Mousse had personified breaking it. Like all Amazon men, he had the domestic skills they had been taught since their youth, and yet he had learned to fight, and hunt, and explore.

What was he, now?

He could see that Rho was asking himself that same question, just looking at Mousse. They had grown up together, and though they had never been close, Mousse had gotten along better with Robe than the other men. And still, he didn't know what his childhood acquaintance was: Amazon male, or self made Outsider? Mousse had always hoped to be a mixture of both, to be caring and emotional and supportive, though not subservient, and yet strong and respected. Always respected.

Now, he wasn't so sure.

"Hey. You must be hungry." Robe motioned for him to follow, and yelled to the other bachelor Amazon men to finish up. They didn't say a word, and seemed to prefer on focusing on their 'work' than the outsider Amazon that was once again among them.

"I am a bit," Mousse admitted. He hadn't eaten in over a day.

"I'll cook up something," Rho Bu offered. "You can pay me back by telling me about Japan, and all the adventures you've had there."

"Not too much to tell." Mousse mentally went over what he would say over dinner, and what he would keep to himself. Certainly, he could say things about Japan, and what he'd seen there - tourist stuff, mostly, but the other things, there were things he wanted to keep to himself for the moment. Information was power, and the more mysterious he could keep himself, the more invincible he became.

"I'm sure you'll come up with something interesting. ...Mousse, are you planning on seeing your mother?"

Mousse frowned. "Perhaps. Perhaps not."

Robe said nothing more.

Mousse was glad he didn't. The matter of his mother was a sensitive one. Mu Tzu, unlike the vast majority of male Amazons, had never known his father. He had been an outsider, a man passing through, who had gotten engaged in typical fashion, and died a year after Mousse had been born. They had no pictures of him, and Mousse mother couldn't even accurately describe him anymore, not that she had ever gotten a good look at him, he suspected, given her sub par vision, and habit of not keeping on her glasses.

Following custom, she had raised him as a child, before he was handed over for training in the 'male arts.' At which point, he had drifted apart from her, and never really sealed up the rift. She had shown cursory interest in his attempted flirting with Shampoo, and she had never treated him poorly, but they had always kept at arm's reach. Still, he loved her dearly - she had been as supportive and caring as a mother could, under the circumstances.

Robe led Mousse to the closest of the communal houses. There were a few other bachelors about, and three old men hunched over a table, playing some sort of game. Unlike the matriarchs, who were respected for their age and wisdom, and even power in a few cases, elderly males had little to live for. Those three, Mousse recognized. They had always been bachelors, and had long since given up ever being picked, even by one of the widowed elders, who preferred to 'pick up' younger males.

Mousse shook his head, and sat down on one of the cot like beds provided for the bachelors. Robe leaned over the cooking fire in the middle of the place, and started quickly making something warm to eat. As he did, he spoke up, "So, Mu Tzu, what made you come back?"

"I... promised to show someone around. A good friend of mine."

"From Japan?"

"From Japan, yes. ...She had heard about the area, and wanted to give it a look. I spoke the language, and agreed to go along. We stayed on the coast for a bit... saw Beijing."

"Really?" Robe perked up at that. "What's it like?"

"Big. You'd be surprised how large these cities get. Beijing... Tokyo... Kyoto." Mousse added that last one, remembering what Ukyou had told him of her home city. "There are buildings that go so high that they're like mountains of glass and iron."

"Wow." Robe sat down in front of the fire, looking up while rapidly cutting an onion with a small knife. "You didn't bring any pictures did you?"

"Pictures?" Mousse scratched his chin. "Well... Yeah, I guess I've got a few."

"Can I see them?" Robe put the nearly diced onions into some sort of sauce, in a pan over the fire.

Mousse hesitated. "Ah..."

"Please?" Robe stirred the pan a bit, got up, and walked over. "Come on, Mousse! We all can't actually leave the village, you know."

"All right. All right... why not?" Mousse flexed his wrists, searching through his robe for a second before finding what he was looking for.

"What's that?" Robe asked, seeing what Mousse brought out.

"It's a wallet." Mousse opened the leather case. He had some yen with him still, though not a lot, given how antsy The People's Republic was about foreign currency in their borders, and a larger chunk of yuan, that he and Ukyou had converted when they came into the country. Looking in one of the side pockets, he took out a small handful of color pictures.

"That's me in front of Tokyo Tower." Mousse showed Robe the picture. It was one of the first pictures he'd taken in Japan, and it showed. He'd given the camera to a teenage kid, and a bit of his thumb was showing in the upper side of the picture. Still, it showed him, in his usual robes, in front of the famous metal structure/tourist attraction.

"Look," Mousse took out another one. "This is me in the Ginza shopping district."

"Who are all those other people?"

"Well... that's Tendo Kasumi, Nabiki, and Akane... their father, Soun, took this picture." He pointed to the boy next to Nabiki. "That's Hibiki Ryouga. Between him and me is a girl named Kuonji Ukyou."

"Why is she dressed like a man?"

"It's... a long story." Mousse hurried to continue. "Anyway, you can see that it's really crowded. When the Tendos learnt that I really hadn't seen much of Tokyo, they offered to take me to Ginza. I didn't buy anything... because I couldn't afford much, but Ryouga and I ended up carrying a lot. Akane and Nabiki wanted clothes, and Kasumi wanted some new stuff for the kitchen..."

"Why would she want new stuff for the kitchen?"

"She does all the cooking. Akane can't tell bread from paper, from what I've heard, I don't know about Nabiki, and I doubt that old man Tendo is of any use in the kitchen. So she does all the cooking. ...She's good, too. Better than me, certainly."

"You could never cook anyway!" Robe laughed, and went over to the fire, checking on whatever he was making. After getting some stuff, he came back. "Ok, what's next?"

"I can cook you know." Mousse frowned. "Just because I don't make a living out of it..."

"Of course. Of course." Robe held his hands up, relenting.

"Anyway... ok, look at this. This is a nightclub Ukyou and I went to just before we came to China. Nabiki, Ryouga, Akane and... someone else were supposed to come too, but they had to cancel at the last minute."

"What's this 'nightclub?'"

"Well... it's a crowded place. I couldn't really wear my robe." Mousse almost blushed at the thought. He'd felt almost naked without his robe and his weapons, but Ukyou had insisted they go as 'semi-normal' as possible, and had even left her minispatulas and megaspatula at her restaurant. "Everyone there gets together and there's lots of music and dancing."

"You mean like a festival?"

"Not the festivals here, that's for sure. It's kind of hard to explain."

"Ah... I guess I get the idea. What's next?"

"This... is a picture of Shan Pu." Mousse paused, and got a good look at it himself. It was a picture he'd purchased from Nabiki, of Shampoo in her waitress outfit, smiling pleasantly. Most likely, it had been taken moments before she tried to glomp onto Ranma, though Mousse wasn't really sure. She looked beautiful... she always looked beautiful to him, but she looked positively vibrant and independent in this picture - capturing everything he associated with and loved about the Amazon girl.

Oddly, he realized it was the only picture he had of her.

"She looks well." Robe looked at the picture, but didn't linger on it.

Why would he? He didn't really care for her.

He didn't care *about* her.

"She's well," Mousse echoed, and moved onto the next picture. "This is Ukyou and me. The guy on the ground with hair shears in his hand is the head of the school where Ukyou goes, Furinkan High school. It's a really good picture. Nabiki took this one a while ago... maybe two months or so. I don't really remember. We beat up that guy dozens of times."

"You beat up your teacher?"

"Not my teacher. Only Ukyou, Nabiki and Akane went to school there. And this guy was totally insane... he had it all coming. We were acting in self defense."

"If ...you say so."

"And this last one." Mousse examined it for a few seconds. "This is Ukyou again, and Hibiki Ryouga. I took this of them in a park somewhere - I'm not sure where. Ryouga was kind of lost at the time."

"Looks like you've got quite a few new friends in Japan. Was it one of them that you came here with, or someone else?" Rho Bu went back to the food, while Mousse put the pictures away, and the wallet back into his robes. Mousse mentally debated whether or not to answer honestly, before making a decision.

"Kuonji Ukyou," he finally said, his voice firm. "I came with her. And I'll leave with her."

Robe smiled wryly and handed him a copper plate, with the stir-fry in it, not commenting on what Mousse had said with such intensity. They ate in silence, and Mousse couldn't help but realize that his Joketsuzoku acquaintance was, indeed, a far better cook than he was. They parted on good terms, and as the sky was starting to darken, Mousse blended into the night. He had work to see to, and things to do, and it wouldn't be prudent to involve anyone else in them, especially a nice guy like Rho Bu.

***

Mousse moved swiftly and silently, his long sleeves catching an updraft of wind as he jumped, before landing soundlessly on the roof of the building. He was deep in the matriarch quarter, now, where males seldom visited, and never stayed. Adjusting his glasses slightly, he followed the movement of the two female guards below, both armed with a long spear and bow. They looked around forty, middle aged - proven veteran fighters, though veterans of what, Mousse couldn't say. The Amazons hadn't gotten involved in a serious fight in generations. Still, this was the matriarchal quarter, and as such, it was populated and primarily guarded by older women.

Women who had proven their loyalty to the Council of Elders.

He was tempted to take them out, quickly, but quickly realized that would cause more problems than solutions. So Mousse waited, nearly motionless, while the two stood on guard in front of the door below him. He entered a minor meditative trance, to pass the time, and to hone his body... to attenuate it into the background Ki of the world and the village. Compared to the vast majority of the world, and even crowded places like Tokyo, the village had a good deal higher ambient amount of Ki as a backdrop. It made it much easier to hide, and avoid setting off any of the more experienced fighter's danger senses.

Hours passed, before the two weary guards below yawned, and stirred in preparation for the next shift to take their place. Mousse heard more than saw their replacements, some way off, heading towards the windowless building. He waited for the near morning duo to take their places, and wave off their elders, before carefully sprinkling a small handful of dust above them, while the wind was almost non-existent. It was a relatively tiny application of sleeping powder, but it had the desired effect after a few minutes.

With the guards asleep, Mousse landed between them, and shook the kinks out of his arms and neck. For the seemingly hundredth time, he looked around and made sure no one was around or aware of him. The last thing he needed was one of the Elders, like Pas Tu, finding out what he was about to do, or even seeing him about to do it. But Mousse doubted they would know. Only a few bachelor males, and Soap, Plunger, and Mirror knew he was even in the village. Soap and her cronies wouldn't say anything that would lead to questions as to where they had been, and where he had found them, exploring the Forbidden area of Jyusenkyou, and no self respecting female Amazon would care less what the bachelor males think or say.

No, he would have free reign, at least for the moment.

After dragging the two unconscious women to the side of the building, and out of sight, he appraised the situation. From behind his left ear, the Master of Hidden Weapons drew out a small lock pick, and went to work on the hefty iron mechanism. It only took a few moments for his practiced fingers to open it, and then he cracked the heavy wooden doors ajar. Covering his handiwork with a black bit of cloth, to avoid casual eyes noticing anything unusual, he entered, closing the door behind him.

Finally, breaking out a small pocket flashlight, he allowed himself a quick smile of nervous appreciation. He had done it, and quite easily, too - broken into the Joketsuzoku Library. Inside the sturdily crafted stonewalls, thanks to his own illumination, Mousse could see a long shelf of tomes, scrolls, and books. Shifting his point of study, he saw a few weapons and other artifacts, though not nearly as many as he had expected to find. True, Happosai had stolen a goodly number of them almost three centuries ago, and Cologne had taken more than a few with her to Japan, more than a year ago, but he'd still expected much more from what he'd heard, off hand.

Then again, only the Elders ever actually entered the library.

The Elders, and now, him: a lowborn, outcast bachelor male.

The thought made him grin widely, before he caught himself and focused on the task at hand. He was here for something specific, and he found it on the wall across from the shelves of books. Standing before the large map, etched into a thick sheet of old paper, Mousse scanned it from top to bottom, and making sure it was what he was looking for. Smiling, he saw the tiny seal of the Jakou-Maneki... the Musk Dynasty.

It was the map.

The Joketsuzoku had kept conspicuous records of their engagements with the Musk, and the territorial claims of the other groups in the region, as well as information on their fortifications, outposts, and holdings... Quickly taking out a three large sheets of drafting paper, Mousse started copying, and getting down as much as he could. Most of his effort was directed at the area mapping out the territories of the Musk and the area of Jyusenkyou, but he made sure to get less accurate cursory information on other areas, like that of the Seven Lucky Gods, just in case it became necessary.

Rolling the copies up, and putting them away, Mousse hesitated on his way out. He'd always dreamt of sneaking into the Library and finally finding out all that had been held back from him, and everyone, for all these years. Checking the time on his watch, he quickly looked through the different groupings that the scrolls were in. Stopping at the genealogy scrolls, he found Shampoo's, and on a lark, carefully opened it. It wasn't as old as he thought it would be, and then figured it had likely been copied from an older document a few hundred years ago.

On the bottom, in relatively fresh looking ink, he saw Shan Pu and Tso Pu, but neither were the reason he'd decided to look at this particular scroll. Looking up through the generations, he passed the name of Khu Lon and kept going. Mousse had heard that Shampoo was descended from the Forgotten King; the one figure in Amazon history Mousse had ever felt anything approaching respect... or maybe understanding, for. He'd first heard the legend told among the older boys, when he was young. Nothing might have come of it, had he not asked his mother, and had not she, in turn, told him more... etching the story into his mind, forever.

It was told that, in a time of great wars, across the world, and in a time of great crisis for the Amazon tribes, a male Amazon appeared, almost from nowhere. He had been exiled as a boy, and returned a man. In this time, the Three Dynasties of the Musk had been growing strong and influential, and in Asia the Amazons had been reduced to a nomadic, leaderless existence. They were broken spiritually and physically, and hounded by their enemies.

This man came to them, and gathered together his brothers and sisters - treating each equally, and needing them both to work together to survive. He battled where others challenged him, and no woman could defeat him, and to those that desired his fall, he felled them in turn. Merciless to his enemies, he reorganized the Amazons of Asia, and led them from the arid plains where they had been kept moving and starving and homeless, and drove boldly into the Musk and the Chinese Kingdoms that opposed them. He cut them down, and for the first time, brought the Musk to the hearth fire, where they brokered an agreement, and an end to the fighting.

The Amazons settled, and the Joketsuzoku was born.

But, in time, the old ways returned, and the Forgotten King was slain, some say by his wife, while he slept, when their daughter came of age. His name was burned from the scrolls that had recorded it, and never again did a male rise from within the Amazons to question the status quo, as the Council of Elders rose to fill the power vacuum. Mousse finally reached the top of the page, nearly breathless in anticipation, but knowing he would not find what he desired.

The Forgotten King's name was gone, never recovered. Never again spoken.

Replaced by a scorch of black ash on paper.

But his blood survived. It survived through Xanthe, in Khu Lon, in Tso Pu, and in Shan Pu. Putting the scroll away, he moved down slightly, looking for a section dealing with the Musk. Finding the three rolled parchments easily enough, he took out the smaller looking one, and opened it.

"What the hell?" Mousse blinked in surprise.

It was blank.

"Odd."

He put it away, and tried the next one. It, like the one before it, looked somewhat old and wrinkled, but it was blank, too. Annoyed, and more than a little confused, he tried the last one and found that it, too, was a phony. It only took a moment for him to see what had happened - someone had stolen the real scrolls... it was impossible to think that the Joketsuzoku had no information whatsoever on the Musk, after so many centuries, even counting Happosai's thievery so long ago.

"So... there's a wolf among the sheep, eh?" Mousse scoffed, and put the last scroll back. The pieces came together perfectly...

Herb was standing watch over Jyusenkyou, where the Musk had not been seen since Cologne's time. The obvious cooperation and consent of the Jyusenkyou Guide at the scene. Missing Musk records in the Amazon Library. After hundreds of years, the Musk Dynasty must again be on the move, not just against the Phoenix Tribe, as they always were and always had been, but against the Joketsuzoku as well. And the Amazons had a traitor... or a conspiracy of traitors, living under their noses.

But why hadn't one of the Elders... people who would never ally with the Musk, people who hate the Musk and what they stand for, why wouldn't one of them have noticed that the records were gone? The scrolls looked very convincing, yes, but they were still empty. Could it be that no one even checked them anymore? Or, alternatively, had the theft occurred recently? Perhaps even very recently?

"Damn it. I better get out of here," Mousse hissed under his breath, and headed for the door.

Only to have it open out on him before he could touch the handle.

"You lost, Moo?"

"Yeah..." Mousse stepped back, flashlight between his teeth, as he reached into his robes casually. "Is this the little Amazonian's room?"

"Nope." Plun Gu's steel mace caught a bit of light from the flashlight, as shapes moved outside the doorway behind her.

"Oh. My mistake. I'll just be leaving then," Mousse spoke despite the flashlight in his mouth, and stepped forward, his hands inside his sleeves finding the grips of well-concealed weapons.

"You'll be...." She looked about to strike, when another voice called out, stopping her. Mousse recognized her instantly, even just by her tone, even before his flashlight passed by her features -a wealth of light brown hair obscuring her left eye, her right one dark and uncompromising. The fact that she was wearing her iron-coil bracers, replete with backwards-swept blades, meant she had come prepared too fight.

"You'll be putting down those weapons in your sleeves, Mu Tzu!" Tso Pu stepped forward, a torch in one hand, her other empty. Her spear, however, was still strapped to her back and ready to be drawn.

Mousse's eyes narrowed.

"What're you going to do, Tso? Bring me in?"

Her eyes moved like vipers, from him to the shelf of books.

"You're not supposed to be here, Mu Tzu."

"Yeah, well, one place I'm definitely not going to be in is some cage waiting to be put on trail. No, no, no, no..." Mousse shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere, except out of here."

"Don't make us fight you, Mu Tzu. What would your mother think?"

Mousse smiled. "What would your father think?"

"Enough talk!" Plun's hot temper got the better of her, and quick as lightning, she lunged, weapon aimed to break the Chinese boy's shoulder. She covered half the distance, before there was a sweeping wave of blinding white cloth, and the sound of a heavy weapon hitting the ground.

"Such haste..." Mousse tightened his grip around her right wrist, while the muscles of his other arm pressed on Plunger's windpipe. In a single motion, he had immobilized her, disarmed her, and now held her soundly. Plun let out a sound that was part whimper and part snarl, but nothing that could be interpreted as words.

"Now I've got a hostage," Mousse said, voice calm. "Just what I wanted, too. Step back, Tso."

"Or?"

"Or what do you think? ...Make your decision quickly now. I don't think bat face here can hold her breath too long. Can you, Plun?"

Mousse was desperate now, and though his voice didn't show it, he was like a cornered animal - dangerous. Plun Gu let out another angry gasp. Tso Pu didn't move. She was calling his bluff, and didn't seem to care whether Plunger lived or died. Frowning, she called over her shoulder, "Mir Ru! Get one of the Elders! Now!"

"But..." A voice from outside protested.

"GO!" Soap shouted, and the other girl was off instantly.

"You see, what I'd like to know is how you can just watch this friend of yours die? Especially at the hands of an outcast single Amazon male like myself."

"You're no killer, Mu Tzu."

"You think so?" Mousse's glasses glinted dangerously.

"I know so. I've met killers, Mu Tzu. I know them, and I know you." Tso made a half smile as she talked. "You're running out of time. Any second now, the whole damn village will be up and awake, and looking for you. You want to add murder to trespassing, you go right ahead."

Plunger let out another choked sob.

Mousse's shoulder trembled, for half a second, before he moved. Like a tornado, he spun, throwing Plunger to the side, and against the hard stonewall, knocking her out. Both hands reached into his sleeves, just as Soap drew her spear. They clashed, Mousse leaning forward, Mandarin Duck Axes parried by the solid wood of a torch and the metal blade-base of Soap's spear. Mousse scowled, and broke the lock, forcing Soap to the side as he locked again with her weapons. With a hard flick of the wrist, he sawed through the wood of the torch, and as the two pieces fell to the ground, Soap's other hand found the spear, and pulled back.

Mousse's feet left the ground to avoid the sweep, and he had to lean back almost to the point of snapping his spine to avoid the following trust with the tip. He locked again, with his right weapon, and advanced with the left, forcing Soap back and to the side. In the dim light of the dying torch, lying on the ground at their feet, the two Amazons danced.

Soap was good, Mousse had to admit. Far less heavy handed than Shampoo, and definitely not as physically overpowering or strong, she concentrated on counters and ultra quick moves. Mousse didn't doubt that, if pressed, and given the opportunity, she could strike with her spear at Amaguriken speeds. Of course, he knew better than to give her that opportunity.

"You're much better than I thought, Mu!" Soap's back hit the wall, and her hand had to leave her spear to catch his at the wrist, before his blade could strike. They were at a minor impasse, with him possessing the slight advantage in situation and strength.

"You should have let me go," he snarled.

"Sorry, Mu... this was too good an opportunity to pass up." She saw the confusion on his face. "You're in way over your head. Messing with things you don't even understand."

"...You?"

"Not what you think." She held his striking hand at bay, as a momentary surge of anger granted him extra strength.

"You're setting me up!"

"You broke in here Mu... you're a big boy. You're responsible for what you do, whether you get caught or not." Soap shook her head, long bangs swaying from the motion. "For what it's worth, I'm sor..."

"Save it!" Mousse broke off from their grapple, and quickly composed himself, or tried to. Scoffing, he looked away from her. "Well, looks like you finally get to play hero for real, Tso."

He gave her one last hard stare, loaded with a full clip of accusation, and bolted out the door. He'd been defeated, even if she hadn't physically brought him in. Even if she wasn't sure whether she actually wanted to or not. In the darkness, Soap watched him go. Almost casually, she wiped her index finger under her right eye, to make sure it was dry.

"Another time then, Mu Tzu."

It came back wet.

***

Japan.

"I've brought you your paper, papa."

"Er... Thank you."

"I made you some nice tea, papa."

"That's... so considerate."

"Your lunch is ready, father."

"Be right there..."

"I bought you some nice bean filled rice cakes for a snack, papa."

"Uh... you're too kind."

Tendo Soun rubbed the base of his nose, as the steam rose around him. The water was more than a little on the hot side, and it served its purpose well, boiling the knots in his neck and shoulders away almost completely. If only for a while, the situation outside the furo seemed far away and someone else' problem.

"I tell you, Saotome..." Soun sighed, letting out a deep groan. "I just can't take it anymore."

"Hey, Tendo," Genma said and paused, as if considering whether to broach the subject further, before deciding it would end up coming up sooner or later anyway. "Are you sure you didn't do it?"

"Saotome, what do you take me for? I'm very high strung... How could I possibly...?"

"Father!"

"Saotome-san!"

Genma saw them coming first, or perhaps his better-honed senses simply heard the door opening first. Regardless, Soun was not far behind, when the two girls' voices indicated their barely existing hesitation to enter the room. With a splash appropriate to and amount of aging martial artist suddenly displacing it, the two were underwater.

Soun rose out of the water, and opened his eyes to see the older one - Natsume, with her long samurai bob of dark brown hair, leaning over the edge of the bath. She didn't even have any of his features, though he hadn't come out and said so. Why did a little scrap of paper mean more than his own word, in his own house?

"Oh, father, let me wash your back!" She said in a remarkably hero-worship way that thoroughly unnerved him. His own daughters had never acted this way, why would these... pseudo-Tendos act like he was the new center of their universe?

Kasumi had never acted this way. She had always been obedient, and kind, and helpful and eager - so much like her mother, but her idol had always been just that: her mother. And she found purpose in honoring that memory, and keeping true to it. Nabiki had certainly never really respected him, he had always known. He did truly love his middle daughter, even as they drifted further apart, and even as Nabiki found her role in life by being what her sisters weren't. And heavens forbid, Akane hadn't acted like these two since she was half the age she was now, not after he taught her all she ...had to know about the Family School.

"No!" Soun put forward his sternest sounding voice. "Absolutely not! Young girls have no business in the..."

"Oh, your back is so nice and big, Saotome-san."

"What a nice thing to say."

Soun turned, eyes half lidded, at the sight of his oldest friend and compatriot getting his back washed by the younger of the two, Kurumi, with her brown-orange hair tied up with that curious weapon-bow. It was something he'd have to talk to the Hibiki boy about, given that Soun's own knowledge in respect to Iron Cloth techniques and Martial Arts Gymnastics was more than slightly limited.

Genma seemed quite content, however, and totally oblivious to the expression of his old buddy. Giving up, Soun returned to the water from whence he came, dearly hoping he could simply blot out the world around him, and let the hot water do its job. It was truly a fool's dream.

Things were destined to get worse.

"Come on! Don't you think they're overdoing it? Dad and Mr. Saotome are acting like a couple of idiots!" Akane's face turned from an angry red to an I-could-destroy-Pompeii purple before Nabiki's eyes. She then went on to state the obvious. "OOHH! They made me so mad I can hardly stand it!"

It had been two days since they got back from their little adventure with the amazing transforming monster with a name problem. For a scant few seconds, apparently, things had looked good - maybe a few days of total leisure and doing absolutely nothing and thinking about even less, when something new got thrown in their faces. She'd woken up that day on the couch next to Ryouga, who had fallen asleep with both brows furrowed, an obvious frown on his features.

She still wasn't sure whether it was there because of what he thought he'd done at the Temple of the Watery Grave, or because he'd walked back into a situation where he had no hope of fighting his way out to any sort of conclusion. He and Ranma had largely retreated to the dojo. They weren't fighting, which was a good thing, but the whole situation seemed to draw them to another place where they didn't have to worry about anyone except themselves and their fists, not words.

Then there was the fact that everyone, herself included, had pinned this on the lost boy for giving the Lost Tendo girls their general address. Natsume had happily pointed out that they'd run into each other in the woods, and that Ryouga had been kind enough to point them in the direction of Nerima. How sorry Ryouga was for what he'd done, she wasn't sure. He'd cringed visibly, more than she'd ever seen him cringe from a physical blow, when she and Akane had stared him down right after finding out he'd led total strangers to their home, and gotten them a pair of supposedly illegitimate sisters.

He'd subsequently mumbled something, and kept quiet the last few days.

It was stupid, and the more Nabiki thought about it, the less terrible it seemed. Really, what did it matter of their father had an affair all those years ago, beyond the little emotional problems with him cheating on their mother, which were, from a practical point of view, moot at this point anyway? Akane seemed to take it the wrong way, certainly, not believing that it could have happened, and that Soun's new daughters were acting the part far better than any of them every really did. Kasumi seemed herself, but Nabiki suspected there was a tension to the situation that her older sister kept well hidden.

"Hey, I think its great! Now dad and Mr. Saotome won't be a burden on us in their old age!" Nabiki leaned back a bit as she spoke, waving the pen in her right hand around.

"We should be nice to them," Kasumi spoke up before her youngest sister could say anything. "Think about it. Those two have never had a family of their own. It wouldn't hurt to show them a little kindness, Akane."

She seemed to wrestle with the idea, but coming from Kasumi, who could refuse?

"Oh, all right." Akane looked away, at the floor. She obviously wasn't happy about things at all, but putting on a pretense of civility couldn't hurt.

It probably wouldn't do any good, though.