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 XXIII (v1.3)
by: J. Wagner
Tokyo.
Futara Arms Apartments.
"The Guest is in through the Door, everybody. No, don't rush up to thank me all at once, now.... Hey, who got pizza?"
The tall, light blonde man closed the door behind him and greeted the two other men in the apartment. They threw back twin grunts of acknowledgement. Pearl Adams looked over the small crew he had assembled: Good ol' Team A. There was a dark haired Asian man, Takuhara Yosho, who was busy fiddling with some specialized equipment in the corner, set up on a too-small desk. He was the team's 'snooper,' their electronics specialist. The other, watching television, was an American, Kenji Smith. The guy was a wizard with explosives, and cemented the team as their demolitions specialist. He had a short attention span, at least when it came to prime time television, and only stayed on any channel for a minute or so at the most before moving on to another.
"It's okonomiyaki," Yosho corrected, his English only slightly touched by his Japanese accent.
"It's flat. It's round. It's got crust." Pearl picked up a lukewarm and somewhat mushy half-pie and examined it. Finally he decided on just picking up the box, and rolling the pancake into something bite-able. "Well, its kind of got crust. And it's small, but it's essentially a soggy Japanese pizza."
"No way. There are fundamental ingredient differences, man. You need cheese for a pizza," Kenji said and casually leaned back on the sofa.
"Oh, you're some kind of pizza connoisseur, now? The first pizzas didn't have cheese, you know," Adams said as he took a bite between sentences. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't that great either.
"The first pizzas didn't have tomato," Kenji lectured, "They did, however, dress them with cheese."
"What? Where'd you get that crap?"
"Don't kill the messenger. It's true. I heard it on TV. Like on the Learning Network or something."
"I've got my doubts." Adams finished off the half-pie, tossed aside another empty box, and found an untouched one.
"Besides, I don't think okonomiyaki has cheese or tomato. Usually. Hey, Yosho, am I right on this one?"
"Yeah, yeah. Hold on a second." The raven-haired man in question held up his hand, and after a few seconds continued, "Here's how I understand it. Okonomiyaki has... ah... eggs, flour, cabbage, usually bento, seaweed, some kind of meat... it can have tomato, though. You guys always order tomato with it. Anyway, it doesn't have cheese, and it usually doesn't have tomato. They seem pretty incongruous to me, except for them both being round and flat. Sorry, chief."
"Right, fine. 'Okonomiyaki,' all right? I'll use the proper terminology - you'll never hear pizza from me again." Adams groaned, and took a big bite as he walked over to check on Yosho. "You know, the stuff from that other place was better."
"Ukyou's?" Kenji asked from where he sat, still browsing through the channels.
"That's it. Ukyou's Bar and Grill. We had her under surveillance for a while anyway. It was a good, easy pickup. Tasty too."
"Yep. Damn good food," Kenji agreed. "She was cute, too."
"Not our jurisdiction anymore," Yosho said as he snapped his fingers together. "Ah! Gotcha! It's all set up, Chief."
"Cool. Let's see it." Adams took another bite and looked over the radio reception equipment. "Time?"
"Twelve... fourteen," Kenji called out, as he flipped to a news channel for the exact local time.
"Right. Remember that when we fill out today's report." Adams turned to Yosho. "Let's hear it. Kenji, turn the TV down!"
"Yeah, yeah... I wish we'd just get the call to do the Hit already."
"Sssh!" Yosho silenced the other man, and adjusted the volume dial appropriately, after taking off his earphones.
"...You didn't pay for those, did you?"
"Oh my, no. A nice man gave them to me."
"This wouldn't be the same nice man you've been seeing behind everyone's back, would it, sister o' mine? When do we meet him?"
"Nabiki. He's just being friendly. It would have been rude not to accept."
"Well, come on. He's actually given you flowers! It's your obligation to tell us, or at least me, about him now."
"Nosey, isn't she?" Adams cut into the conversation they were listening in on.
Yosho just shrugged.
"There's nothing to say, Nabiki," Kasumi's voice insisted. There was also the sound of running water in the background.
"Of course there is. Is he... older than you?"
Hesitation.
"Yes," Kasumi finally said.
"He isn't a martial artist, is he?"
"Oh, I don't think so."
"Is he cute, then?"
"I... Nabiki-chan, don't you..."
"Oh, that means he IS, cute, isn't he?"
"Well, he's a very nice man."
"Kasumi-speak for 'he's a stud,'" Nabiki's voice came closer. "What about Dr. Tofu?"
"What ...about ...Dr. Tofu?"
"I was just wondering."
There was splashing noise just then, cutting off and interrupting the sound.
"Water. Compensating... putting on filters," Yosho clicked on two smaller side machines, and adjusted them slightly. The sound quickly returned, slightly softer and a little muddied, but otherwise fine.
"...Father will want to meet him. You know how he is about you, his 'favorite' daughter."
"Nabiki, father loves all of us equally. I'd appreciate it if you didn't imply otherwise," Kasumi's voice was, for once, quite stern.
There was a moment of silence.
"...Sorry."
"I know you didn't mean it, Nabiki-chan."
"I guess I'm just kind of hassled. Or maybe not hassled. Ever since Ryo-chan and Ranma left on that training trip of theirs, it's been... like a sort of tension on the air. Akane... Natsume... And of course, now that the boys are gone, and Shampoo's left for China, Happosai is running amuck."
"He is a handful."
There was a 'thump' in the background, just then.
"That's an understatement!" Nabiki laughed, softly. "You should talk to him. He'd listen to you... if anyone."
"What do you mean? That I should demand grandfather Happosai stop... being himself?"
"Stop being a pain in the ass and a filthy old pervert is what I mean. He's even testing me, now. It's like he has no fear at all. How on earth do you keep him out of your room, and from stealing your stuff?"
Kasumi was quiet for a few seconds.
"Hey, what's going on?" Kenji yelled and looked over the back of the couch, "You lose the connection of something?"
"Connection's still there, Chief. Five by five," Yosho checked the equipment.
Miles away, Kasumi finally relented.
"The laundry."
"What... about the laundry?"
"He avoids the laundry. Just being around... men's things weakens him. I've always thought that was why he does his own laundry... on the roof thank goodness. He doesn't really trust me, I suppose. Or maybe he just doesn't like the idea of laundry."
"Hmm... a chink in his armor?"
"Oh my, Nabiki... you're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"
Insidious laughter followed.
"Interesting. More infighting around Target C, it seems. Good job, Yosho. All this is recording, right?" Adams finished talking, and licked a bit of sauce from his index finger, having finished the okonomiyaki itself. Satisfied, he crumpled the box up into a rough ball.
"Patched directly into the system we were using before. Saving every word for posterity," The Asian man replied, smiling.
"Good. Sounds like the two of 'em are walking off," Pearl said as he crossed his arms in thought. "You think we got the table in the main room?"
"Depends on the impression you gave her, Chief. Sounds like chances are good, though. You caught her, hook, line and sinker."
"Yes," Adams' voice softened a bit. "She's... she's very different from the others. She's not as cynical. She's very accepting."
"Accepting, Chief?"
"Accommodating, may be a better word." The blonde man closed his eyes. "We'll see where it takes us. I'm moving towards Project Haul, personally. Once the two prime targets return."
"Which one?"
"Either. Both have their merits... and their drawbacks. But both, I feel, are preferable to a shootout like Mr. Chen suggested. At worst, we have that possibility to fall back on. Right, Kenji?"
"Sure thing," Kenji called back, "A kilo or two of C-4 and a face full of frag should take out any of these people, martial artist superpowers or not. Problem solved, eh?"
"Yeah," Adams voice hardened. "Problem solved."
***
Soun folded the letter in half between his fingers. He had watched, for too long, and too often, as the world around him got steadily worse. It was long past the point where action should have replaced words. Now, the solution... a solution, certainly, was in his hand, but he found himself far more reluctant to use it than he had thought. A bright ray of sunshine crossed his path as he walked past a broad window on his home's second floor. He darkened it for a half second as he passed by, but his thoughts lingered on that action until he came to the guest room. Ranma, Genma and Ryouga had been sharing it for the about the last two weeks. Shortly after the two boys got back from rescuing Nabiki and Akane from that Pantyhose person, they had left on a training trip. Genma had, in light of the pampering he was receiving, decided to stay behind and sleep in the dojo itself.
It was Natsume's and Kurumi's room now.
"Hello?" Soun knocked on the half open door. "Anyone in there?"
"Come on in, Papa."
Pushing the door aside, Soun stepped in and saw Kurumi sitting at the normally unused desk that the room hosted. It had been moved from the corner where Ranma and Genma had moved it to the window, in the light. The place was clean, too, though Soun supposed that was mostly Natsume's work. Kurumi was at the desk, reading something. He couldn't see the title, but guessed it was schoolwork. Now that they'd found a home, Kurumi especially was looking forward to attending school and getting a formal education. Natsume was still concerned over getting an official adoption into the Tendo family, and had gone out for a quick walk about an hour ago. Soun nervously fingered the folded letter in his hand.
"Studying hard?" Soun asked, calmly. He walked up to her, and looked down at the book on the desk.
"Hai, papa," Kurumi said with a bright smile. "I can't wait to go to Furinkan, just like Akane and Nabiki! It sounds so cool!"
Soun frowned a bit at that. Furinkan was a hassle, and he'd heard about the Principal there. He was also considering the possibility of sending Kurumi to St. Hebereke's Academy - it was an all girls' school with a supposedly excellent athletics department, high-test scores, and a relative minimum of school related mayhem. It was a private school, but Kurumi could easily get in for free riding her athletics. Still, all that was provided he kept them around.
He had sent for a genetic test a while ago, to prove that he wasn't Kurumi or Natsume's father. He'd been right, of course. Tendo Soun might cheat at shogi (and go, and checkers, and poker, and lots of other games), and he might shirk his martial artists' duties once in a while in his old age, but he did not outright lie, and certainly not to his own children. It still troubled him that no one had simply taken his word as truth. Why would he persist on hiding something like that? He had been a pillar of faithfulness in marriage. He hadn't even been with a woman since his beloved wife's death...
The genetic test only confirmed what he'd said. He wasn't even the girls' uncle, or anything similar. It was what he had wanted, at the time. Bring out the evidence, and the girls leave to keep wandering in search of their father. Akane calms down, because she isn't threatened anymore by Natsume's claims, or Kurumi's abilities. He even suspected that the whole situation here was what drove Ryouga to do some random wandering of his own, and it defiantly didn't do anything to encourage Ranma to stick around the house either, when Ryouga apparently asked, off hand, if he would like to come, too. It was good for them, Soun knew. It gave the boys some time to themselves to become true friends, which the elder Tendo sincerely hoped they would become soon, just like he and Genma had gradually become comrades rather than opponents all those years ago. Quite frankly, he'd almost been looking forward to kicking the two pseudo-Tendo girls out, and returning the household to semi-normalcy.
"Is something wrong, Papa?"
"No," Soun said, quickly snapping back to attention. "Nothing really. I was just checking up on you, seeing how things are going, you know."
"Things are... very good." Kurumi leaned on one arm, and looked up at him. "I'm kind of hungry, though."
Soun's expression softened.
"You're always hungry." He was tempted to say more, but chickened out. "I tell you what, I'll go see if Kasumi has any snacks downstairs."
"Really?"
"Really," Soun gave a small wave, and headed for the door.
"Thanks, Papa," Kurumi said. She paused for a moment then added, "I love you."
Soun's whole body tensed up.
"Study hard, Kurumi-chan," he said, perhaps too quickly, and then left.
Downstairs, Nabiki turned the page of her manga, and took a long drink from a tall glass of lemonade. It had been a quiet day, downright dull actually, except for teasing Kasumi for a little while, and thinking of anti-Happosai measures she had plans for in the near future. In a way, it was almost like it had been before Ranma showed up.
Routine.
The slamming of the door outside got the middle Tendo's attention.
"Hey, Akane." Nabiki gave her sister a long look. "Hard workout?"
"You have no idea," Akane said and winced, towel draped around her shoulders.
"You know... a friendly word of advice, for free, even." Nabiki lowered her voice and Akane sat down opposite her. "Give yourself a break. Daddy made it abundantly clear he doesn't want anyone fighting over the school. Kurumi doesn't seem to care that much, by herself, and Natsume only put the idea forward because she wants to prove herself as indispensable to dad. This whole 'who will carry on' deal is stupid, if you ask me."
"You don't understand because you're not a martial artist, Nabiki." Akane gripped the ends of the towel around her shoulders tightly. "It's a matter of pride."
"You mean stubbornness? That does seem to be a trait you all share."
"That, too, maybe. It's... It's one thing to not be as good as Ranma or Ryouga, or even Shampoo and Ukyou.... They're all truly dedicated to the Art, but none of them are really competition. I stopped being like them years ago, after Dad finished teaching me the School Techniques. I just... I guess I got complacent. I thought I was the best out there. Better than Dad, even."
Nabiki didn't say anything - all this she knew.
"Yeah... I still don't know about that. I know I'm not the best, Nabiki. I know I'm far from it. But that doesn't mean I'll just roll over and do nothing, while someone else takes what's mine!"
"I guess I can kind of understand that," Nabiki said, after a few seconds. Akane stood back up, as if to leave, but stopped before she left the room. It seemed like the conversation was over, but something remained unsaid.
"Hey!" She called over her shoulder. "Do you have any idea when Ranma is getting back?"
"You miss him?" Nabiki grinned at the thought. Akane seemed about to yell 'no' simply on impulse, but then she looked around, and quickly nodded.
"A little," Akane explained, quietly. "You miss Ryouga?"
"A little," Nabiki said, and went back to reading her manga. "They'll be back when they're back. Hopefully they'll both be in one piece. It's out of our hands anyway, and I make it a policy not to worry about things I have zero control over."
"They better not be fighting," Akane growled, shaking a fist. "They made a promise..."
***
Meanwhile, somewhere deep in the wilds of Japan:
"Saotome! Those were MY raisins, you... you... you damn thief!"
"What? You expect me to eat the food Akane packed!? Even vultures wouldn't touch that stuff!"
"That's it! The last straw!! DIIIEEEE!!!!!!"
***
"I'm sure they're behaving themselves," Nabiki said to sister, but felt an odd shiver down her spine when she said it. Chalking it up to the slightly cold breeze from outside, she promptly forgot about it. On the table, in a glass vase, Kasumi's flowers shifted a bit in the wind.
***
1953 CE
"My God... we actually found it... the old woman was right..."
Baiyankara Range.
Quinghai Province, People's Republic of China.
"Chouchuanshan!" Hsing Kung tipped back the rim of his Mao hat. "I told you getting a hold of those old manuscripts would pay off, sir. I told you!"
Bishop gave a short laugh, and patted his companion on the back.
"That you did, Hsing! It's the find, the discovery, of a lifetime. I wish I could take more credit for it, but it was all you, Hsing. It was your baby."
"Thank you, sir. But it couldn't have been done without your contacts, your money, and your influence... This is our find, not just mine."
"Our find." Bishop nodded, facial features set in stone. "Our great opportunity."
"Opportunity?" Hsing had never heard that word used in respect to their quest for the Legendary Cursed Springs before.
"Opportunity," Bishop said again. "For Greatness."
"Greatness," Hsing repeated. "Yes, sir."
"Let's get down there," Bishop took one last long look down at the mist-shrouded valley. "I want to start documentation as soon as possible."
"Absolutely," Hsing agreed, following the other man as they made their way down a rough path descending into the place. He saw Bishop's clenched left hand, for a second, before he went back to hiding it in the folds of his parka. As they walked, the mist seemed to surround them.
"Greatness," Bishop's ghostly voice echoed. "Our find... Hsing..."
Greatness...
Greatness...
"Maybe you should go first, Hsing. After all, you make a far better guide than I...."
Hsing woke up with a start, clutching his chest. He was almost seventy years old, and it was at times like this that he felt it. Checking the clock in the living room, he realized that it was late, almost ten o'clock at night. Still, he felt far more weary than he normally did, despite not exactly being the most physically active of people. Slowly getting up off the couch, and putting aside the magazine he'd been reading when he dozed off, Hsing walked to the downstairs bathroom, and washed off his face. The cold water shocked him into a greater state of alertness, but did nothing to subside the nagging doubts and thoughts he'd been harboring for too long.
Then the door rang.
"Plum? Plum?" He called out. "Plum?"
"I'll get it!" A voice called out, from upstairs.
"Good," Hsing slowly replied. The doorbell rang again, and this time, Hsing greeted it with greater suspicion. No one in the area would wish him ill, except the Phoenix people, who would likely just be content to keep him out of the way and away from Jyusenkyou, but there was still the chance of bandits or other unsavory folk coming by unannounced. The Guide reached behind him, making sure his 9mm was still there, just in case. He hadn't used it in a lifetime, but he'd be damned if anyone or anything threatened his adopted daughter. Not again.
As Hsing got closer to the front door, he heard voices.
"My name is Mu Tzu. I... I didn't know there was a house so far out here. I was wondering if I could stay for the night. I can pay..."
"Mu Tzu?" The Guide stepped forward and asked, "Is that an Amazon name?"
"Yes, sir, it is," The boy said, his voice coming from behind the door. If he was who the Guide suspected he was, it was a given that he could pretty easily tear any regular door off its hinges, locked or not, or even smash through the wall. This boy, Mu Tzu, however, had not. He was asking for permission, and even willing to pay for a good night's sleep on an actual bed. Plum was standing behind the door, looking through the peephole.
"He's by himself," Plum said, before the Guide could ask.
Hsing sniffed, then spoke, "All right. Let him in."
Plum opened the door, and Mu Tzu entered, stopped at the threshold, and took off his shoes, which were dirty from walking. His robes weren't in any better shape. He looked like he'd been roughing it on the road for some time and hadn't been enjoying it one bit. Mousse adjusted his thick glasses, and gave a quick, small bow to Plum and the Guide.
"Thank you... both of you," he said.
The Guide met his gaze. "Hmm. So it is you... Plum, I will be having a talk with our guest. I suspect he will want a warm bath when we are finished. Make sure Rouge doesn't disturb us either, all right?"
"Sure." Plum gave her elder an unsure look, but didn't pry as to Hsing's motives. As the little girl quickly headed upstairs, Hsing folded his arms behind his back and motioned for Mousse to follow him. The younger boy complied, and the Guide led him into the house's lower living room.
"How do you like my home?" Hsing asked.
"It is a very nice house." Mousse took the polite route. "Three floors?"
"Four, actually. Including the attic and the basement."
"You didn't...?"
"Build it? No, of course not. Let's just say that I have a much higher paying job than most would assume." The Guide smiled as a joke he alone understood. "You should see the health plan."
Mousse scratched his head, missing it entirely.
"Please, sit." Hsing held out his hand, and the two men sat down opposite each other, across the coffee table. "I'm no fool, Mu Tzu. How did you really find this house?"
"It... it was on a map."
"A map? I find that unlikely."
Mousse licked his lips, before giving a resigned sigh. He reached into his robes, and took out a large rolled piece of paper, then another, and then another. Handing them over, he shied back, expecting disapproval.
"Understand that I didn't have a choice. Those are copies of maps that the Joketsuzoku have. It was the only way I could find what I wanted... needed to know."
"I see." The Guide looked them over, in a cursory way.
"I've been on the road, and on the run for over a week. I didn't have anywhere to go, or anyone I could turn to. None of the Joketsuzoku aligned tribes or villages would harbor me. And I don't dare approach the Musk... I don't know whether I'd attack them first, or the other way around... no, sir, it wasn't any coincidence that I found this place."
The Guide looked up from the scrolls, then slowly rolled them up and put them aside on the table.
"I'm sorry." Mousse continued. "I've probably brought nothing but trouble..."
"I could say the same." Hsing cut him off. "Do you remember the last time we saw each other?"
"Herb," Mousse snarled. "He kidnapped Ukyou, and knocked me out. Stashed me away on the far side of the valley, too. Frankly, I'm surprised he didn't dunk me in something horrible... more horrible, anyway. Actually, I'm surprised he didn't just kill me. But I'm not exactly one to look a gift horse in the mouth."
The Guide was about to tell him that he should, but turned to something else.
"So you came here. Understandable. You want answers?"
"More than anything. I've... I've got nothing else."
The Guide leaned back on the couch, and took a deep sigh.
"You should have died, you know."
"Huh?"
"You should have died. If you and your friend hadn't shown up... Herb would have been cursed, and you two would be on your way with the cures for your curse. An exchange, almost. As it was, when things didn't turn out like they were supposed to, I was supposed to finish things.... Make you disappear."
Mousse tensed.
"Don't worry," Hsing assured him. "I didn't do it then, why would I now?"
"Why were... who wanted me killed, anyway?"
"Do you know who I work for?"
The Chinese youth shifted a bit, uncomfortable. "No."
"You've heard of the Chouchuanshan... or perhaps I should use the Japanese? You've heard of the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society, haven't you?"
***
Western Jyusenkyou.
"Gentlemen!" Bishop clasped his broad hands together, cufflinks clapping together in a soft chime. "So nice to see you all again."
"I only wish we could say the same, Bishop."
"Indeed. Your recent activities have drawn more derision than approval."
Nodding and assorted signs of agreement came from the seven Society Elders. Around them, their guards, drawn from the ranks of the Muscle Sword Clan, were present but silent. The shadows of the tall warriors cast down and almost obscured many of the short, shriveled old men that made up the heart and soul of the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society.
"Please." Bishop's eyes lazily noted the positions of the guards, and that of the large man next to him; sword held at the hip. "If the Council would but ask, I will answer everything it desires, to the best of my knowledge and ability."
"When we allowed you to open a business branch of our organization, Bishop." A bald man, his head as white as a mountaintop, gestured towards Bishop. "It was with the expectation that the moneys raised would go towards the general use of the Society as a whole."
"Yes? Has that not been so?"
"Over the last few years, profits have been steadily decreasing. Recent evidence actually indicates that your activities are operating in the red... that you are diverting stockpiled funds kept for the whole of the Society to cover your own expenditures."
Bishop smiled. "We are entering a period of... expansion."
***
"The Society... was founded shortly around the failure of the Boxer Rebellion. At the time, it was under a separate name, and dedicated itself to the rebirth of mysticism, ancient martial arts, and the occult." Hsing paused to scratch his nose.
"The occult?" Mousse asked.
"Hidden Weapons, for example. Chinese Black Magic." The Guide gave a wry smile. "Things I'm sure you are familiar with first hand. However it was a small and relatively insignificant group... I served some time in the Korean War did you know that? No... of course not. How old do I look?"
"Maybe... forty?"
"Try over seventy." The Guide laughed at that. "But that's another story. Another tragic tale, I suppose... I served in the War with a man from the USSR, who was there as a special observer from the Soviets. His name was Bishop Verikov. Shortly after an accident... and the end of the war, we became close friends. At least as close a friend as Bishop ever allowed himself to have. I was a young man like yourself, eager to see some of the world, and make my mark on it. I had all the knowledge I'd thought I'd needed, and none of the opportunity to show it off. Bishop gave me that opportunity and I... we found Jyusenkyou."
He took a deep breath before continuing. "Or maybe Jyusenkyou found us. Regardless, we became the first outsiders to set foot in that forsaken valley in centuries. It was an archeological gold mine, but of course, it had to be kept a secret. There was a great deal of power hidden there, and Bishop and I knew better than to draw the attention of the young People's Republic into the area. Instead, we... or more specifically, he, gradually let the Preservation Society in on it, and used their resources and local familiarity to bring his own people in. He was patient... very patient, and content to handle financial affairs, and open businesses relating to Jyusenkyou. He made a great deal of money through legitimate means, both in direct sales of things relating to Jyusenkyou, and through indirect sales to pharmaceutical and paramilitary groups worldwide. You can perhaps also imagine how much he made through alliances with criminal cartels, smugglers, and organized crime..."
***
"We are a moral organization, Bishop! We enforce proper values... the values of our ancestors. We cannot afford these... entanglements we hear you've gotten us into."
"I completely understand," Bishop said as he spread his arms wide, as if to embrace them all. "However, I am involved in things. Research... Development... that require a broad hand, so to speak."
"Additionally." Another elder, a wrinkled bag of bones, cut in, "There is the matter of this... this situation with the Musk and the Phoenix and several other groups. You are funneling aid, in the form of food, medicines, even metals and other essentials towards one group, the Musk. You have, apparently, given them the idea that we, the Council, approved of this. That they have the support of the Society, when no such vote has been put before us, much less given the... frankly slim... chance of passing."
"Oh yes," Bishop said as his smile curved into a smirk. "You didn't get a chance to vote on that little issue, did you? Oh well. It is rather too late now. ...Kiini?"
"Yes?" The big man next to him asked.
The half-Russian nodded to the man, and turned his back. "I think it's time I leave."
"Bishop! Bishop!" One of the Council elder's nearly strained his voice yelling, "You have not been dismissed!"
"Get back here, Bishop!" Another added, "Guards! Stop him immediately!"
To the surprise of the Elders, the Guards didn't move a muscle.
"What... what's that sound?" The wrinkled bone bag who'd said it looked up, as a sudden and loud roar filled the air. Rising above the tall bamboo, a helicopter, jet-black, descended to hovering just over the ground. Bishop gave the assembled Elders a quick salute.
"Gentlemen, it was a pleasure seeing all of you again. Kiini... If you would do the honors?" He asked, as he boarded the helicopter.
"Bishop! Just what the hell are you doing?! Bishop!!"
As the helicopter took off, the broad smile of Kiini was matched only by the curve of his sword. With a loud 'click' every one of the Muscle Sword guardsmen took out their blades. The grouped Elders, all summoned in one place for their meeting, clustered together, almost back to back.
"Wait! Kiini... stop! What are..."
"Kill them," The tall man said, his voice bordering on mirthful. "Kill them all."
***
Mousse cleared his throat.
"Why are you telling me this?" The male Amazon finally asked.
The Guide seemed to consider that query.
"Someone needs to know. Maybe I've just been holding this inside me for too long. You can only pile so much guilt on a man's shoulders before he collapses from it all. Besides, what did you say? Don't look a gift horse in the mouth?"
"True enough, I guess."
"I work for him. We work for each other. You could say either. I catalogued the Springs, that was the early work... getting their histories in order was the difficult part. Bishop and I worked on that, while he built up his influence. He wanted to secure our position there, so that the Joketsuzoku or Musk or whoever wouldn't be able to simply push us out or take our research. He and I had far too much invested, too much work put into Jyusenkyou, to let that happen. Naturally, our worst enemies were to become the people of Phoenix Mountain. They need Jyusenkyou to induce maturity in their god, Saffron. Of course, he wasn't truly a god... he made himself one..."
"Saffron? I've heard..."
"You've heard nothing!" The Guide slowly composed himself, straightening his shirt self-consciously. "You've heard nothing that can describe him properly. He was terrible... the caretaker responsible for rearing him had been a cruel and jealous woman. The Musk were at their height, and some say she had some grudge against them... she's dead, now. He killed her after he matured. That Saffron was as dark a soul as you could ever dread meeting. He crafted the image of himself as a god, not just in title, but an actual god to be worshiped and sacrificed to. He spread like a cancer, enslaving those of his own people who doubted his actions... and he killed those who spoke against him. Bishop and I both supported the coalition that assembled to prevent his expansion into the surrounding province. The Musk, the Amazons, the Seven Lucky Gods, and the young Society... Saffron was eventually driven back, and 'killed' through the sacrifice of the Musk King, Herb the Fourth."
"The Musk..." Mousse seemed to remember something.
"Yes, the Musk. You wanted to know who wanted you dead? The Society... for seeing what you did. Bishop wanted Prince Herb weakened, preferably with the female curse. He believed it would degrade his leadership in the coming storm."
"That's it?" Mousse balled his fists in anger. "That's IT?"
"That is enough." The Guide frowned, eyes half lidded. "That was more than enough."
"So then the Musk... must have stolen the papers from the Joketsuzoku. Because Herb... plans on attacking them next?"
"Right, and wrong. There are three sides to everything."
"I don't get it. What side is the Society on, if they support the Musk, and yet try and double cross Herb at the same time? And... who are the Musk? Really?"
"Those are two very long answers, Mu Tzu. I don't believe you're... ready for them yet."
***
Bishop didn't stay to watch the slaughter.
There was little entertainment value in watching the deaths of a cabal of withered and obsolete old men. They had always been nothing more than a means to an end, and now that that end was nearly at hand, they were no longer necessary. He had had some fun in toying with them, but quickly grown tired of it. All that had mattered was that they were all there, and that the guards present had been unquestioningly loyal to him, and him alone. Such a thing came with surprising ease - the old Elders engendered little respect and loyalty in this new age. Still, if even a few of the old roaches managed to scuttle away, they could remain a thorn in his side for years to come.
Luckily, Kiini was very thorough in his work.
In the air-conditioned near silence of the helicopter, Bishop allowed himself a simple smile. Things were proceeding excellently. The Society was his and his alone, now. He controlled the finances, the research, the projects divisions... he controlled the private army he'd been building up for years, in secret, waiting for this moment to strike. All his agents were in place among the respective parties. On that thought, Bishop put on a headphone, and made a quick call. After only a few rings, a female voice answered.
"Ah, my dear Lychee. How nice to hear from you."
"Papa?"
"Yep. Making a quick surprise call, you could say. Just checking in on things. How's our little patsy coming along?"
"Well enough, Papa. He'll go along with whatever Bishamonten and I tell him. One little wave of the missing half of the scroll is usually all it takes. I'd still rather hold off using one of our few remaining surikomi eggs unless absolutely necessary. Its effects can be rather obvious, or even vulgar, around those sensitive to Ki."
"Very well. And the warship?"
"Finished refitting... almost, from what I've heard. They've installed everything you wanted, including the failsafe device. I don't think it will be necessary, however. Once Kirin and I are wed, you'll find him especially malleable."
"I was just checking. I worry about you, you know."
"I know, Papa. Don't worry. I have everything under control. You'll know the moment when to move... if not from me, than from one of the others."
"Good. Good... keep safe. I don't want to keep you..."
"It's mostly a very little social things. There's a new girl down with the Musk in Sach Khandu, named Kuonji Ukyou... from Japan. She's not part of the Plan, either, but that's not such a bad thing. I think she'll be more than willing to work with us when the time comes, if only for the chance to go home. I like her. She could be a powerful ally... she is close to Prince Herb."
"Hmm." Bishop relented. "I trust your judgment of her character, Lychee. Tread carefully."
"I do, Papa. Talk to you later. BaiBai!"
With a click, she closed her cell phone. Taking off his headphones with his good hand, Bishop Verikov... or Bishop Chen, depending on whom you asked, gave a hearty laugh. Outside, and far below, the world sped by.
"Learning Curve"
Part XXIII (v1.3)
by: J. Wagner
Tokyo.
Futara Arms Apartments.
"The Guest is in through the Door, everybody. No, don't rush up to thank me all at once, now.... Hey, who got pizza?"
The tall, light blonde man closed the door behind him and greeted the two other men in the apartment. They threw back twin grunts of acknowledgement. Pearl Adams looked over the small crew he had assembled: Good ol' Team A. There was a dark haired Asian man, Takuhara Yosho, who was busy fiddling with some specialized equipment in the corner, set up on a too-small desk. He was the team's 'snooper,' their electronics specialist. The other, watching television, was an American, Kenji Smith. The guy was a wizard with explosives, and cemented the team as their demolitions specialist. He had a short attention span, at least when it came to prime time television, and only stayed on any channel for a minute or so at the most before moving on to another.
"It's okonomiyaki," Yosho corrected, his English only slightly touched by his Japanese accent.
"It's flat. It's round. It's got crust." Pearl picked up a lukewarm and somewhat mushy half-pie and examined it. Finally he decided on just picking up the box, and rolling the pancake into something bite-able. "Well, its kind of got crust. And it's small, but it's essentially a soggy Japanese pizza."
"No way. There are fundamental ingredient differences, man. You need cheese for a pizza," Kenji said and casually leaned back on the sofa.
"Oh, you're some kind of pizza connoisseur, now? The first pizzas didn't have cheese, you know," Adams said as he took a bite between sentences. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't that great either.
"The first pizzas didn't have tomato," Kenji lectured, "They did, however, dress them with cheese."
"What? Where'd you get that crap?"
"Don't kill the messenger. It's true. I heard it on TV. Like on the Learning Network or something."
"I've got my doubts." Adams finished off the half-pie, tossed aside another empty box, and found an untouched one.
"Besides, I don't think okonomiyaki has cheese or tomato. Usually. Hey, Yosho, am I right on this one?"
"Yeah, yeah. Hold on a second." The raven-haired man in question held up his hand, and after a few seconds continued, "Here's how I understand it. Okonomiyaki has... ah... eggs, flour, cabbage, usually bento, seaweed, some kind of meat... it can have tomato, though. You guys always order tomato with it. Anyway, it doesn't have cheese, and it usually doesn't have tomato. They seem pretty incongruous to me, except for them both being round and flat. Sorry, chief."
"Right, fine. 'Okonomiyaki,' all right? I'll use the proper terminology - you'll never hear pizza from me again." Adams groaned, and took a big bite as he walked over to check on Yosho. "You know, the stuff from that other place was better."
"Ukyou's?" Kenji asked from where he sat, still browsing through the channels.
"That's it. Ukyou's Bar and Grill. We had her under surveillance for a while anyway. It was a good, easy pickup. Tasty too."
"Yep. Damn good food," Kenji agreed. "She was cute, too."
"Not our jurisdiction anymore," Yosho said as he snapped his fingers together. "Ah! Gotcha! It's all set up, Chief."
"Cool. Let's see it." Adams took another bite and looked over the radio reception equipment. "Time?"
"Twelve... fourteen," Kenji called out, as he flipped to a news channel for the exact local time.
"Right. Remember that when we fill out today's report." Adams turned to Yosho. "Let's hear it. Kenji, turn the TV down!"
"Yeah, yeah... I wish we'd just get the call to do the Hit already."
"Sssh!" Yosho silenced the other man, and adjusted the volume dial appropriately, after taking off his earphones.
"...You didn't pay for those, did you?"
"Oh my, no. A nice man gave them to me."
"This wouldn't be the same nice man you've been seeing behind everyone's back, would it, sister o' mine? When do we meet him?"
"Nabiki. He's just being friendly. It would have been rude not to accept."
"Well, come on. He's actually given you flowers! It's your obligation to tell us, or at least me, about him now."
"Nosey, isn't she?" Adams cut into the conversation they were listening in on.
Yosho just shrugged.
"There's nothing to say, Nabiki," Kasumi's voice insisted. There was also the sound of running water in the background.
"Of course there is. Is he... older than you?"
Hesitation.
"Yes," Kasumi finally said.
"He isn't a martial artist, is he?"
"Oh, I don't think so."
"Is he cute, then?"
"I... Nabiki-chan, don't you..."
"Oh, that means he IS, cute, isn't he?"
"Well, he's a very nice man."
"Kasumi-speak for 'he's a stud,'" Nabiki's voice came closer. "What about Dr. Tofu?"
"What ...about ...Dr. Tofu?"
"I was just wondering."
There was splashing noise just then, cutting off and interrupting the sound.
"Water. Compensating... putting on filters," Yosho clicked on two smaller side machines, and adjusted them slightly. The sound quickly returned, slightly softer and a little muddied, but otherwise fine.
"...Father will want to meet him. You know how he is about you, his 'favorite' daughter."
"Nabiki, father loves all of us equally. I'd appreciate it if you didn't imply otherwise," Kasumi's voice was, for once, quite stern.
There was a moment of silence.
"...Sorry."
"I know you didn't mean it, Nabiki-chan."
"I guess I'm just kind of hassled. Or maybe not hassled. Ever since Ryo-chan and Ranma left on that training trip of theirs, it's been... like a sort of tension on the air. Akane... Natsume... And of course, now that the boys are gone, and Shampoo's left for China, Happosai is running amuck."
"He is a handful."
There was a 'thump' in the background, just then.
"That's an understatement!" Nabiki laughed, softly. "You should talk to him. He'd listen to you... if anyone."
"What do you mean? That I should demand grandfather Happosai stop... being himself?"
"Stop being a pain in the ass and a filthy old pervert is what I mean. He's even testing me, now. It's like he has no fear at all. How on earth do you keep him out of your room, and from stealing your stuff?"
Kasumi was quiet for a few seconds.
"Hey, what's going on?" Kenji yelled and looked over the back of the couch, "You lose the connection of something?"
"Connection's still there, Chief. Five by five," Yosho checked the equipment.
Miles away, Kasumi finally relented.
"The laundry."
"What... about the laundry?"
"He avoids the laundry. Just being around... men's things weakens him. I've always thought that was why he does his own laundry... on the roof thank goodness. He doesn't really trust me, I suppose. Or maybe he just doesn't like the idea of laundry."
"Hmm... a chink in his armor?"
"Oh my, Nabiki... you're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"
Insidious laughter followed.
"Interesting. More infighting around Target C, it seems. Good job, Yosho. All this is recording, right?" Adams finished talking, and licked a bit of sauce from his index finger, having finished the okonomiyaki itself. Satisfied, he crumpled the box up into a rough ball.
"Patched directly into the system we were using before. Saving every word for posterity," The Asian man replied, smiling.
"Good. Sounds like the two of 'em are walking off," Pearl said as he crossed his arms in thought. "You think we got the table in the main room?"
"Depends on the impression you gave her, Chief. Sounds like chances are good, though. You caught her, hook, line and sinker."
"Yes," Adams' voice softened a bit. "She's... she's very different from the others. She's not as cynical. She's very accepting."
"Accepting, Chief?"
"Accommodating, may be a better word." The blonde man closed his eyes. "We'll see where it takes us. I'm moving towards Project Haul, personally. Once the two prime targets return."
"Which one?"
"Either. Both have their merits... and their drawbacks. But both, I feel, are preferable to a shootout like Mr. Chen suggested. At worst, we have that possibility to fall back on. Right, Kenji?"
"Sure thing," Kenji called back, "A kilo or two of C-4 and a face full of frag should take out any of these people, martial artist superpowers or not. Problem solved, eh?"
"Yeah," Adams voice hardened. "Problem solved."
***
Soun folded the letter in half between his fingers. He had watched, for too long, and too often, as the world around him got steadily worse. It was long past the point where action should have replaced words. Now, the solution... a solution, certainly, was in his hand, but he found himself far more reluctant to use it than he had thought. A bright ray of sunshine crossed his path as he walked past a broad window on his home's second floor. He darkened it for a half second as he passed by, but his thoughts lingered on that action until he came to the guest room. Ranma, Genma and Ryouga had been sharing it for the about the last two weeks. Shortly after the two boys got back from rescuing Nabiki and Akane from that Pantyhose person, they had left on a training trip. Genma had, in light of the pampering he was receiving, decided to stay behind and sleep in the dojo itself.
It was Natsume's and Kurumi's room now.
"Hello?" Soun knocked on the half open door. "Anyone in there?"
"Come on in, Papa."
Pushing the door aside, Soun stepped in and saw Kurumi sitting at the normally unused desk that the room hosted. It had been moved from the corner where Ranma and Genma had moved it to the window, in the light. The place was clean, too, though Soun supposed that was mostly Natsume's work. Kurumi was at the desk, reading something. He couldn't see the title, but guessed it was schoolwork. Now that they'd found a home, Kurumi especially was looking forward to attending school and getting a formal education. Natsume was still concerned over getting an official adoption into the Tendo family, and had gone out for a quick walk about an hour ago. Soun nervously fingered the folded letter in his hand.
"Studying hard?" Soun asked, calmly. He walked up to her, and looked down at the book on the desk.
"Hai, papa," Kurumi said with a bright smile. "I can't wait to go to Furinkan, just like Akane and Nabiki! It sounds so cool!"
Soun frowned a bit at that. Furinkan was a hassle, and he'd heard about the Principal there. He was also considering the possibility of sending Kurumi to St. Hebereke's Academy - it was an all girls' school with a supposedly excellent athletics department, high-test scores, and a relative minimum of school related mayhem. It was a private school, but Kurumi could easily get in for free riding her athletics. Still, all that was provided he kept them around.
He had sent for a genetic test a while ago, to prove that he wasn't Kurumi or Natsume's father. He'd been right, of course. Tendo Soun might cheat at shogi (and go, and checkers, and poker, and lots of other games), and he might shirk his martial artists' duties once in a while in his old age, but he did not outright lie, and certainly not to his own children. It still troubled him that no one had simply taken his word as truth. Why would he persist on hiding something like that? He had been a pillar of faithfulness in marriage. He hadn't even been with a woman since his beloved wife's death...
The genetic test only confirmed what he'd said. He wasn't even the girls' uncle, or anything similar. It was what he had wanted, at the time. Bring out the evidence, and the girls leave to keep wandering in search of their father. Akane calms down, because she isn't threatened anymore by Natsume's claims, or Kurumi's abilities. He even suspected that the whole situation here was what drove Ryouga to do some random wandering of his own, and it defiantly didn't do anything to encourage Ranma to stick around the house either, when Ryouga apparently asked, off hand, if he would like to come, too. It was good for them, Soun knew. It gave the boys some time to themselves to become true friends, which the elder Tendo sincerely hoped they would become soon, just like he and Genma had gradually become comrades rather than opponents all those years ago. Quite frankly, he'd almost been looking forward to kicking the two pseudo-Tendo girls out, and returning the household to semi-normalcy.
"Is something wrong, Papa?"
"No," Soun said, quickly snapping back to attention. "Nothing really. I was just checking up on you, seeing how things are going, you know."
"Things are... very good." Kurumi leaned on one arm, and looked up at him. "I'm kind of hungry, though."
Soun's expression softened.
"You're always hungry." He was tempted to say more, but chickened out. "I tell you what, I'll go see if Kasumi has any snacks downstairs."
"Really?"
"Really," Soun gave a small wave, and headed for the door.
"Thanks, Papa," Kurumi said. She paused for a moment then added, "I love you."
Soun's whole body tensed up.
"Study hard, Kurumi-chan," he said, perhaps too quickly, and then left.
Downstairs, Nabiki turned the page of her manga, and took a long drink from a tall glass of lemonade. It had been a quiet day, downright dull actually, except for teasing Kasumi for a little while, and thinking of anti-Happosai measures she had plans for in the near future. In a way, it was almost like it had been before Ranma showed up.
Routine.
The slamming of the door outside got the middle Tendo's attention.
"Hey, Akane." Nabiki gave her sister a long look. "Hard workout?"
"You have no idea," Akane said and winced, towel draped around her shoulders.
"You know... a friendly word of advice, for free, even." Nabiki lowered her voice and Akane sat down opposite her. "Give yourself a break. Daddy made it abundantly clear he doesn't want anyone fighting over the school. Kurumi doesn't seem to care that much, by herself, and Natsume only put the idea forward because she wants to prove herself as indispensable to dad. This whole 'who will carry on' deal is stupid, if you ask me."
"You don't understand because you're not a martial artist, Nabiki." Akane gripped the ends of the towel around her shoulders tightly. "It's a matter of pride."
"You mean stubbornness? That does seem to be a trait you all share."
"That, too, maybe. It's... It's one thing to not be as good as Ranma or Ryouga, or even Shampoo and Ukyou.... They're all truly dedicated to the Art, but none of them are really competition. I stopped being like them years ago, after Dad finished teaching me the School Techniques. I just... I guess I got complacent. I thought I was the best out there. Better than Dad, even."
Nabiki didn't say anything - all this she knew.
"Yeah... I still don't know about that. I know I'm not the best, Nabiki. I know I'm far from it. But that doesn't mean I'll just roll over and do nothing, while someone else takes what's mine!"
"I guess I can kind of understand that," Nabiki said, after a few seconds. Akane stood back up, as if to leave, but stopped before she left the room. It seemed like the conversation was over, but something remained unsaid.
"Hey!" She called over her shoulder. "Do you have any idea when Ranma is getting back?"
"You miss him?" Nabiki grinned at the thought. Akane seemed about to yell 'no' simply on impulse, but then she looked around, and quickly nodded.
"A little," Akane explained, quietly. "You miss Ryouga?"
"A little," Nabiki said, and went back to reading her manga. "They'll be back when they're back. Hopefully they'll both be in one piece. It's out of our hands anyway, and I make it a policy not to worry about things I have zero control over."
"They better not be fighting," Akane growled, shaking a fist. "They made a promise..."
***
Meanwhile, somewhere deep in the wilds of Japan:
"Saotome! Those were MY raisins, you... you... you damn thief!"
"What? You expect me to eat the food Akane packed!? Even vultures wouldn't touch that stuff!"
"That's it! The last straw!! DIIIEEEE!!!!!!"
***
"I'm sure they're behaving themselves," Nabiki said to sister, but felt an odd shiver down her spine when she said it. Chalking it up to the slightly cold breeze from outside, she promptly forgot about it. On the table, in a glass vase, Kasumi's flowers shifted a bit in the wind.
***
1953 CE
"My God... we actually found it... the old woman was right..."
Baiyankara Range.
Quinghai Province, People's Republic of China.
"Chouchuanshan!" Hsing Kung tipped back the rim of his Mao hat. "I told you getting a hold of those old manuscripts would pay off, sir. I told you!"
Bishop gave a short laugh, and patted his companion on the back.
"That you did, Hsing! It's the find, the discovery, of a lifetime. I wish I could take more credit for it, but it was all you, Hsing. It was your baby."
"Thank you, sir. But it couldn't have been done without your contacts, your money, and your influence... This is our find, not just mine."
"Our find." Bishop nodded, facial features set in stone. "Our great opportunity."
"Opportunity?" Hsing had never heard that word used in respect to their quest for the Legendary Cursed Springs before.
"Opportunity," Bishop said again. "For Greatness."
"Greatness," Hsing repeated. "Yes, sir."
"Let's get down there," Bishop took one last long look down at the mist-shrouded valley. "I want to start documentation as soon as possible."
"Absolutely," Hsing agreed, following the other man as they made their way down a rough path descending into the place. He saw Bishop's clenched left hand, for a second, before he went back to hiding it in the folds of his parka. As they walked, the mist seemed to surround them.
"Greatness," Bishop's ghostly voice echoed. "Our find... Hsing..."
Greatness...
Greatness...
"Maybe you should go first, Hsing. After all, you make a far better guide than I...."
Hsing woke up with a start, clutching his chest. He was almost seventy years old, and it was at times like this that he felt it. Checking the clock in the living room, he realized that it was late, almost ten o'clock at night. Still, he felt far more weary than he normally did, despite not exactly being the most physically active of people. Slowly getting up off the couch, and putting aside the magazine he'd been reading when he dozed off, Hsing walked to the downstairs bathroom, and washed off his face. The cold water shocked him into a greater state of alertness, but did nothing to subside the nagging doubts and thoughts he'd been harboring for too long.
Then the door rang.
"Plum? Plum?" He called out. "Plum?"
"I'll get it!" A voice called out, from upstairs.
"Good," Hsing slowly replied. The doorbell rang again, and this time, Hsing greeted it with greater suspicion. No one in the area would wish him ill, except the Phoenix people, who would likely just be content to keep him out of the way and away from Jyusenkyou, but there was still the chance of bandits or other unsavory folk coming by unannounced. The Guide reached behind him, making sure his 9mm was still there, just in case. He hadn't used it in a lifetime, but he'd be damned if anyone or anything threatened his adopted daughter. Not again.
As Hsing got closer to the front door, he heard voices.
"My name is Mu Tzu. I... I didn't know there was a house so far out here. I was wondering if I could stay for the night. I can pay..."
"Mu Tzu?" The Guide stepped forward and asked, "Is that an Amazon name?"
"Yes, sir, it is," The boy said, his voice coming from behind the door. If he was who the Guide suspected he was, it was a given that he could pretty easily tear any regular door off its hinges, locked or not, or even smash through the wall. This boy, Mu Tzu, however, had not. He was asking for permission, and even willing to pay for a good night's sleep on an actual bed. Plum was standing behind the door, looking through the peephole.
"He's by himself," Plum said, before the Guide could ask.
Hsing sniffed, then spoke, "All right. Let him in."
Plum opened the door, and Mu Tzu entered, stopped at the threshold, and took off his shoes, which were dirty from walking. His robes weren't in any better shape. He looked like he'd been roughing it on the road for some time and hadn't been enjoying it one bit. Mousse adjusted his thick glasses, and gave a quick, small bow to Plum and the Guide.
"Thank you... both of you," he said.
The Guide met his gaze. "Hmm. So it is you... Plum, I will be having a talk with our guest. I suspect he will want a warm bath when we are finished. Make sure Rouge doesn't disturb us either, all right?"
"Sure." Plum gave her elder an unsure look, but didn't pry as to Hsing's motives. As the little girl quickly headed upstairs, Hsing folded his arms behind his back and motioned for Mousse to follow him. The younger boy complied, and the Guide led him into the house's lower living room.
"How do you like my home?" Hsing asked.
"It is a very nice house." Mousse took the polite route. "Three floors?"
"Four, actually. Including the attic and the basement."
"You didn't...?"
"Build it? No, of course not. Let's just say that I have a much higher paying job than most would assume." The Guide smiled as a joke he alone understood. "You should see the health plan."
Mousse scratched his head, missing it entirely.
"Please, sit." Hsing held out his hand, and the two men sat down opposite each other, across the coffee table. "I'm no fool, Mu Tzu. How did you really find this house?"
"It... it was on a map."
"A map? I find that unlikely."
Mousse licked his lips, before giving a resigned sigh. He reached into his robes, and took out a large rolled piece of paper, then another, and then another. Handing them over, he shied back, expecting disapproval.
"Understand that I didn't have a choice. Those are copies of maps that the Joketsuzoku have. It was the only way I could find what I wanted... needed to know."
"I see." The Guide looked them over, in a cursory way.
"I've been on the road, and on the run for over a week. I didn't have anywhere to go, or anyone I could turn to. None of the Joketsuzoku aligned tribes or villages would harbor me. And I don't dare approach the Musk... I don't know whether I'd attack them first, or the other way around... no, sir, it wasn't any coincidence that I found this place."
The Guide looked up from the scrolls, then slowly rolled them up and put them aside on the table.
"I'm sorry." Mousse continued. "I've probably brought nothing but trouble..."
"I could say the same." Hsing cut him off. "Do you remember the last time we saw each other?"
"Herb," Mousse snarled. "He kidnapped Ukyou, and knocked me out. Stashed me away on the far side of the valley, too. Frankly, I'm surprised he didn't dunk me in something horrible... more horrible, anyway. Actually, I'm surprised he didn't just kill me. But I'm not exactly one to look a gift horse in the mouth."
The Guide was about to tell him that he should, but turned to something else.
"So you came here. Understandable. You want answers?"
"More than anything. I've... I've got nothing else."
The Guide leaned back on the couch, and took a deep sigh.
"You should have died, you know."
"Huh?"
"You should have died. If you and your friend hadn't shown up... Herb would have been cursed, and you two would be on your way with the cures for your curse. An exchange, almost. As it was, when things didn't turn out like they were supposed to, I was supposed to finish things.... Make you disappear."
Mousse tensed.
"Don't worry," Hsing assured him. "I didn't do it then, why would I now?"
"Why were... who wanted me killed, anyway?"
"Do you know who I work for?"
The Chinese youth shifted a bit, uncomfortable. "No."
"You've heard of the Chouchuanshan... or perhaps I should use the Japanese? You've heard of the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society, haven't you?"
***
Western Jyusenkyou.
"Gentlemen!" Bishop clasped his broad hands together, cufflinks clapping together in a soft chime. "So nice to see you all again."
"I only wish we could say the same, Bishop."
"Indeed. Your recent activities have drawn more derision than approval."
Nodding and assorted signs of agreement came from the seven Society Elders. Around them, their guards, drawn from the ranks of the Muscle Sword Clan, were present but silent. The shadows of the tall warriors cast down and almost obscured many of the short, shriveled old men that made up the heart and soul of the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society.
"Please." Bishop's eyes lazily noted the positions of the guards, and that of the large man next to him; sword held at the hip. "If the Council would but ask, I will answer everything it desires, to the best of my knowledge and ability."
"When we allowed you to open a business branch of our organization, Bishop." A bald man, his head as white as a mountaintop, gestured towards Bishop. "It was with the expectation that the moneys raised would go towards the general use of the Society as a whole."
"Yes? Has that not been so?"
"Over the last few years, profits have been steadily decreasing. Recent evidence actually indicates that your activities are operating in the red... that you are diverting stockpiled funds kept for the whole of the Society to cover your own expenditures."
Bishop smiled. "We are entering a period of... expansion."
***
"The Society... was founded shortly around the failure of the Boxer Rebellion. At the time, it was under a separate name, and dedicated itself to the rebirth of mysticism, ancient martial arts, and the occult." Hsing paused to scratch his nose.
"The occult?" Mousse asked.
"Hidden Weapons, for example. Chinese Black Magic." The Guide gave a wry smile. "Things I'm sure you are familiar with first hand. However it was a small and relatively insignificant group... I served some time in the Korean War did you know that? No... of course not. How old do I look?"
"Maybe... forty?"
"Try over seventy." The Guide laughed at that. "But that's another story. Another tragic tale, I suppose... I served in the War with a man from the USSR, who was there as a special observer from the Soviets. His name was Bishop Verikov. Shortly after an accident... and the end of the war, we became close friends. At least as close a friend as Bishop ever allowed himself to have. I was a young man like yourself, eager to see some of the world, and make my mark on it. I had all the knowledge I'd thought I'd needed, and none of the opportunity to show it off. Bishop gave me that opportunity and I... we found Jyusenkyou."
He took a deep breath before continuing. "Or maybe Jyusenkyou found us. Regardless, we became the first outsiders to set foot in that forsaken valley in centuries. It was an archeological gold mine, but of course, it had to be kept a secret. There was a great deal of power hidden there, and Bishop and I knew better than to draw the attention of the young People's Republic into the area. Instead, we... or more specifically, he, gradually let the Preservation Society in on it, and used their resources and local familiarity to bring his own people in. He was patient... very patient, and content to handle financial affairs, and open businesses relating to Jyusenkyou. He made a great deal of money through legitimate means, both in direct sales of things relating to Jyusenkyou, and through indirect sales to pharmaceutical and paramilitary groups worldwide. You can perhaps also imagine how much he made through alliances with criminal cartels, smugglers, and organized crime..."
***
"We are a moral organization, Bishop! We enforce proper values... the values of our ancestors. We cannot afford these... entanglements we hear you've gotten us into."
"I completely understand," Bishop said as he spread his arms wide, as if to embrace them all. "However, I am involved in things. Research... Development... that require a broad hand, so to speak."
"Additionally." Another elder, a wrinkled bag of bones, cut in, "There is the matter of this... this situation with the Musk and the Phoenix and several other groups. You are funneling aid, in the form of food, medicines, even metals and other essentials towards one group, the Musk. You have, apparently, given them the idea that we, the Council, approved of this. That they have the support of the Society, when no such vote has been put before us, much less given the... frankly slim... chance of passing."
"Oh yes," Bishop said as his smile curved into a smirk. "You didn't get a chance to vote on that little issue, did you? Oh well. It is rather too late now. ...Kiini?"
"Yes?" The big man next to him asked.
The half-Russian nodded to the man, and turned his back. "I think it's time I leave."
"Bishop! Bishop!" One of the Council elder's nearly strained his voice yelling, "You have not been dismissed!"
"Get back here, Bishop!" Another added, "Guards! Stop him immediately!"
To the surprise of the Elders, the Guards didn't move a muscle.
"What... what's that sound?" The wrinkled bone bag who'd said it looked up, as a sudden and loud roar filled the air. Rising above the tall bamboo, a helicopter, jet-black, descended to hovering just over the ground. Bishop gave the assembled Elders a quick salute.
"Gentlemen, it was a pleasure seeing all of you again. Kiini... If you would do the honors?" He asked, as he boarded the helicopter.
"Bishop! Just what the hell are you doing?! Bishop!!"
As the helicopter took off, the broad smile of Kiini was matched only by the curve of his sword. With a loud 'click' every one of the Muscle Sword guardsmen took out their blades. The grouped Elders, all summoned in one place for their meeting, clustered together, almost back to back.
"Wait! Kiini... stop! What are..."
"Kill them," The tall man said, his voice bordering on mirthful. "Kill them all."
***
Mousse cleared his throat.
"Why are you telling me this?" The male Amazon finally asked.
The Guide seemed to consider that query.
"Someone needs to know. Maybe I've just been holding this inside me for too long. You can only pile so much guilt on a man's shoulders before he collapses from it all. Besides, what did you say? Don't look a gift horse in the mouth?"
"True enough, I guess."
"I work for him. We work for each other. You could say either. I catalogued the Springs, that was the early work... getting their histories in order was the difficult part. Bishop and I worked on that, while he built up his influence. He wanted to secure our position there, so that the Joketsuzoku or Musk or whoever wouldn't be able to simply push us out or take our research. He and I had far too much invested, too much work put into Jyusenkyou, to let that happen. Naturally, our worst enemies were to become the people of Phoenix Mountain. They need Jyusenkyou to induce maturity in their god, Saffron. Of course, he wasn't truly a god... he made himself one..."
"Saffron? I've heard..."
"You've heard nothing!" The Guide slowly composed himself, straightening his shirt self-consciously. "You've heard nothing that can describe him properly. He was terrible... the caretaker responsible for rearing him had been a cruel and jealous woman. The Musk were at their height, and some say she had some grudge against them... she's dead, now. He killed her after he matured. That Saffron was as dark a soul as you could ever dread meeting. He crafted the image of himself as a god, not just in title, but an actual god to be worshiped and sacrificed to. He spread like a cancer, enslaving those of his own people who doubted his actions... and he killed those who spoke against him. Bishop and I both supported the coalition that assembled to prevent his expansion into the surrounding province. The Musk, the Amazons, the Seven Lucky Gods, and the young Society... Saffron was eventually driven back, and 'killed' through the sacrifice of the Musk King, Herb the Fourth."
"The Musk..." Mousse seemed to remember something.
"Yes, the Musk. You wanted to know who wanted you dead? The Society... for seeing what you did. Bishop wanted Prince Herb weakened, preferably with the female curse. He believed it would degrade his leadership in the coming storm."
"That's it?" Mousse balled his fists in anger. "That's IT?"
"That is enough." The Guide frowned, eyes half lidded. "That was more than enough."
"So then the Musk... must have stolen the papers from the Joketsuzoku. Because Herb... plans on attacking them next?"
"Right, and wrong. There are three sides to everything."
"I don't get it. What side is the Society on, if they support the Musk, and yet try and double cross Herb at the same time? And... who are the Musk? Really?"
"Those are two very long answers, Mu Tzu. I don't believe you're... ready for them yet."
***
Bishop didn't stay to watch the slaughter.
There was little entertainment value in watching the deaths of a cabal of withered and obsolete old men. They had always been nothing more than a means to an end, and now that that end was nearly at hand, they were no longer necessary. He had had some fun in toying with them, but quickly grown tired of it. All that had mattered was that they were all there, and that the guards present had been unquestioningly loyal to him, and him alone. Such a thing came with surprising ease - the old Elders engendered little respect and loyalty in this new age. Still, if even a few of the old roaches managed to scuttle away, they could remain a thorn in his side for years to come.
Luckily, Kiini was very thorough in his work.
In the air-conditioned near silence of the helicopter, Bishop allowed himself a simple smile. Things were proceeding excellently. The Society was his and his alone, now. He controlled the finances, the research, the projects divisions... he controlled the private army he'd been building up for years, in secret, waiting for this moment to strike. All his agents were in place among the respective parties. On that thought, Bishop put on a headphone, and made a quick call. After only a few rings, a female voice answered.
"Ah, my dear Lychee. How nice to hear from you."
"Papa?"
"Yep. Making a quick surprise call, you could say. Just checking in on things. How's our little patsy coming along?"
"Well enough, Papa. He'll go along with whatever Bishamonten and I tell him. One little wave of the missing half of the scroll is usually all it takes. I'd still rather hold off using one of our few remaining surikomi eggs unless absolutely necessary. Its effects can be rather obvious, or even vulgar, around those sensitive to Ki."
"Very well. And the warship?"
"Finished refitting... almost, from what I've heard. They've installed everything you wanted, including the failsafe device. I don't think it will be necessary, however. Once Kirin and I are wed, you'll find him especially malleable."
"I was just checking. I worry about you, you know."
"I know, Papa. Don't worry. I have everything under control. You'll know the moment when to move... if not from me, than from one of the others."
"Good. Good... keep safe. I don't want to keep you..."
"It's mostly a very little social things. There's a new girl down with the Musk in Sach Khandu, named Kuonji Ukyou... from Japan. She's not part of the Plan, either, but that's not such a bad thing. I think she'll be more than willing to work with us when the time comes, if only for the chance to go home. I like her. She could be a powerful ally... she is close to Prince Herb."
"Hmm." Bishop relented. "I trust your judgment of her character, Lychee. Tread carefully."
"I do, Papa. Talk to you later. BaiBai!"
With a click, she closed her cell phone. Taking off his headphones with his good hand, Bishop Verikov... or Bishop Chen, depending on whom you asked, gave a hearty laugh. Outside, and far below, the world sped by.
