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 XXV (v1.3)

by: J. Wagner

102 1898.

Herb's burnt and torn cape fluttered out behind him in the stale wet air. Beams of light and energy crisscrossed his vision, his enemy's lifeless body a still darkness behind him. Ki blazed, a ferocious red and yellow, all about him, in and out of the green orbs he had for eyes, tearing at his soul for release. He was a living maelstrom of energy and fury and death, every desire, every thought, every whim echoed a thousand fold into a terrible chorus that seemed to shake the very earth.

26 474.

Herb felt the Serpent push aside the Dragon. He felt his blood pulse and boil. He felt his forearms burn and itch. He was so close to being free... so close to throwing off every inhibition, every trapping of restraint. He would become, he could become, that tireless undying machine that was the legacy of his father, his grandfather, and every one of his cursed line back seventeen generations and thousands of years. The wild clarion call sounded in his ears.

106 1894.

He cried out against it.

27 473.

He burnt it from his mind.

110 1890.

The flames bit into him, like a refreshing storm of pain along every nerve of his body. It brought back his father's voice, his father's lessons, and his father's discipline. He was power, but he was control. Perfect control. Perfect balance. Perfect order.

28 472.

The flames disappeared, and the Serpent's voice faded into nothingness, replaced by the comforting hum of the Dragon, and the ordered symphony of the blood. It was his burden, and he carried it willingly - gladly. It was his purpose, and his connection to a history long lost. Long buried, and left buried, for the good of all men. Composing himself, and tossing his long hair over his left shoulder with a flick of the wrist, he walked over his opponent's corpse, gradually leaving the darkness and entering the light.

The Musk Dynasty would take this day as their own.

***

It began with a man... and a monster. Back when the world was old, but mankind was young. His name was Sho Amaun Ma'at, or as the Musk were to call him: 'The Grand Father.' One hundred and forty centuries ago, he was born, though exactly where had long since been lost to time. It was an age of night and fear, for dark things, creatures of myth and legend, roamed freely in man's infancy, and greatest and darkest of them all was the Great Serpent. The tempter. The corrupter. The Great Serpent was old, even among ancients, but had been growing feeble and dependant on sacrifice and servitude over the ages. It came and it consumed, subverting and corrupting those it came across into doing it's bidding.

Some say Amaun shared blood with the creature, which was known to take human form. Yet Amaun shared nothing with the Great Serpent, save its rage and its power, for among men, Sho Amaun Ma'at was the most powerful to live. He hunted the Great Serpent as only a man possessed could, tracking it across sea and desert, untiring, unyielding. When it flew, he chased. When it hid among men, he rooted it out. When it corrupted and sent those he loved to oppose him, Amaun slew them.

And so it came that, after a lifetime, the Great Serpent retreated to an island in the Heart of the Sea, and Amaun followed. Undeterred by the native population that had been long since corrupted by the Serpent, the Hunter tracked his Prey to the center of the island, and into a great cave. There, finally, the Serpent faced its hunter, first in human form. It claimed Kinship, it claimed fellowship - but Amaun would not be deterred. The battle raged amid the glassy pools of water below them, in the great temple cave of those long forgotten ancient peoples. In the fight, Amaun's loyal hound was struck down into one of the pools, beside three large stones. Outraged by this final loss, built upon so many countless others, the man slew the monster, and the Great Serpent fell, dead, great gouts of blood and flame issuing from it in equal measure.

***

Pearl Adams was intimately familiar with the Tendo home. It was a slightly less than modest two-story building, four bedrooms on the second floor, and two on the first. The outer and inner baths were to the side on the first floor, the family room and Kitchen nearly adjacent. The Dojo was largely a non-factor, isolated on the east side of the property, as was the small storage shed. There were two entrances: one normal, one for martial arts challenges that led directly to the Dojo through a small winding path. A good-sized koi pond dominated the western quarter of the land.

The most vulnerable point was the Kitchen, and would provide the optimal effect if an explosion were triggered. The family room was a poor target, primarily because of was off to the upper left of the house, and because if was directly under the living quarters of three non-combatants who were only tertiary targets at best. Or worst. Intelligence revealed it likely that the main targets would move into the Dojo, which was fine with Adams, though it complicated their initial strike plans somewhat. He was accustomed to observing and studying the house from afar, listening or watching through one of several clandestine bugs that had been smuggled into the place. They had none in the Dojo, however, hence the official reason for his visit. Truthfully, he was curious.

From where Pearl Adams currently stood, the Tendo property had a far more comforting and homey feel that he'd imagined, nothing like the hellhole he'd called home for all of ten years. Or perhaps it was just the company he was in. To his side, Kasumi gave him a soft smile - a knowing and understanding smile that both warmed him, and made him feel deeply uncomfortable. She couldn't possibly know he worked for a ruthless man named Bishop Chen, who by now ran the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society alone, and with an iron hand. Bishop had a sprinkling of truly fanatical supporters, hidden among the entire Society: they were his unseen, unblinking, unwavering eyes and ears, watching and listening for any signs of weakness or betrayal. Kasumi's warm smile betrayed no knowledge of his purpose here in Japan - to watch and spy on numerous residential martial artists, and when ordered, either assassinate or capture them.

Lately, he'd heard that Bishop favored the former strategy more and more.

They were part of Operation Clean House, which Adams assumed meant the nearly worldwide removal of those with 'unique talents.' Adams was only an intermediate player in the Operation, in charge of half of the Japanese operations, with their focus on Tokyo. He knew another group from the Society was also operating, but they weren't mercenaries like he was. Most likely, they were Society muscle from the Muscle or Wind Sword Cults. Bishop feared them, he supposed, these martial artists of Japan and China, these supermen and women.

"So this is the legendary Tendo Dojo," he said, hands holding a small package without any sign of nervousness. He resisted the urge and instinct to put a hand in his pocket, an obvious sign of deceit that the middle Tendo daughter would almost certainly pick up on. From his left elbow a plastic bag held a carton of milk and a bottle of soy sauce. In the crook of his right arm, he easily supported Kasumi's bag of groceries.

"It looks very pretty at night. When there aren't any holes in it," Kasumi said the last half of the sentence more softly, yet also with a hint of worry.

"Don't worry about them Kasumi-san." He kept his voice perfectly controlled. In all honesty, he couldn't really have blamed Bishop for fearing these martial artists of Nerima, and elsewhere. He had not totally understood the magnitude of what they wanted of him when he'd first been assigned to the Operation, reassigned from simple Society technical oversight and security command in the People's Republic. The eggheads there had talked about chi, and chi infusion, and chi manipulation, the 'internal stimulation of the hypothalamus via an unknown medium,' and hosts of other things he really didn't understand. He hadn't really cared enough to.

Then he saw them.

He saw film, in slow motion, sometimes one eighths speed, sometimes frame by digital frame. He saw a high school boy, Saotome Ranma, punch so fast that even the Society high-speed digital cameras couldn't totally follow his attacks. He saw a 'low level threat,' one Kuno Tatewaki, slice clean through a solid rock with a wooden practice sword. He had seen another subject (one of the Ranma boy's contemporaries) throw a bloody car over twenty feet, in a fit of pique, and then uproot a concrete telephone pole with one hand. They all seemed to routinely jump thirty or more feet in a single bound, defying physics and a rational world with effortless ease and aplomb. These were not men and women; these were monsters of terrible power hidden beneath human skin.

That the people of Nerima, and even neighboring Wards, had over time simply become accustomed to these things astounded him no end. Or perhaps, as many Japanese were like, they just ignored what they didn't want to see or believe. Adams carefully hid his concern and amazement from his colleagues, who would likely see it as foolishness. Around the people he worked with, even a small sign of weakness was not something healthy to cultivate. He hid it from them with an ease that came from years of practice.

"Shall we go in?" he asked, pleasantly. "I admit I'm sort of eager to see the place."

"There will be plenty of time. It isn't really that interesting, Adams-san." Kasumi led him in at a gentle pace, and he found himself happy to follow. As he entered, however, and took off his shoes, his mind also noted the layout of the house: the structure, the construction, available blind spots and points of entry. His thoughts disgraced him, and for the first time, he regretted his first instinct. He wasn't armed, and if and when he did approach this house in that fashion, he would only actually enter it as a last resort. Well armed or not, he'd be taken apart in a heartbeat by any of his assigned targets. A quick and unnoticeable breathing exercise cleared his mind and calmed him.

"I hope I'm not intruding too much," he said, his voice steady. "I wouldn't want to seem like a freeloader. And I don't really have..."

"Please don't worry over it," Kasumi said, her voice glad for his presence here. He handed her the small plastic bag with the milk and soy sauce. They had met once more, by apparent coincidence, at the market they both frequented. The coincidence was, of course, a carefully crafted illusion. Adams and his cadre were well aware of many of the goings on in the Tendo household, and Kasumi had become their primary link.

She was their carrier. Her codename had become 'Key,' just as the many bugs they worked into the house were 'Guests' and the house itself was the 'Door.' Kasumi was their way in. They had known when she left, and it had been fairly obvious why, though they had lost the very valuable 'flower bug' that had found itself in the family room. As he passed what was identified as the room of an old man named 'Happosai' and to the entrance of the Kitchen, he looked into the family room and saw a small clear vase on the table, replete with fresh tiger lilies, the same number and type of flowers that he'd given her the last time they met. She had thrown out the old ones, a week old, and replaced them with identical new ones - hence how they'd lost the bug. It annoyed him and deeply troubled him at the same time that she had... cared.

He quickly quenched both feelings.

"Where should I put this?" He indicated the wrapped package in his hands, held carefully in a way that likely seemed somewhat shy and vulnerable. Adams wondered, in that instant, whether he'd be delivering something truly horrible the next time he visited her.

"On the table is fine," she said, from the Kitchen, busy putting things away neatly, orderly, everything where it should be.

"All Righty." He let his tongue roll, and said the phrase in English. She always smiled when he said little things like that when they talked, or when he offered to do things for her. He passed the room belonging to the one she called Grandfather Happosai, and looked in. The little troll wasn't present at the moment, something for which Adams was very grateful. Happosai was a pervert and a nuisance. Though he wasn't really sitting on what one would call the moral high ground, it still annoyed him on general principle. He would have to be taken out carefully and with overwhelming force if... when... the time came. At least this Happosai seemed content to molest women outside the house, and occasionally the youngest Tendo girl, and not Kasumi.

He wondered, then, why the old man also avoided the middle Tendo girl.

"Mind if I look around a little, Kasumi-san?"

"You are our guest; please feel free to make yourself at home," she replied, unsuspecting. If she did suspect, if she did know anything of the true him, she would never let him out of her sight, and never let him wander unchecked.

"Thank you very much. This is so much nicer and neater than my messy old apartment," he complimented the family, as he had planned to continue doing for some time, with different people, and took in the layout. The doors presented a good possibility, the outdoors area, especially the porch and near the koi pond, another.

"If you wouldn't mind, I could help clean..."

Adam's heart jumped a beat, as he walked outside onto the porch. She was bolder than he had anticipated. He needed to throw off any possible interest in his apartment, at all costs.

"My apartment is too much of a bachelor pad. I think my roommates prefer it that way, really. Thanks, anyway." He stressed the word roommates, and waited for a reply.

"Boys will be boys," she finally said, from inside the house. He imagined hearing a trace of disappointment. The rebuff was sharp, but beyond necessary. Beyond necessary. Reaching into the light black and gold vest that he worse over his plain white shirt, Adams' fingers brushed by and picked up a small electronic bug, audio only. He made a single curious pass of his chosen targets.

The bushes.

Just under the porch.

He was tempted to directly bug the koi pond, but decided against it. Too much risk of discovery, really. The little disks were quite small, with a tiny thin wire transmitter, and easily mistaken by anyone not really looking for it. They were designed for concealment, but their range was limited. Of course, they had planted a relay just outside the property, on a nearby telephone pole. It was larger, a black box, but it wouldn't be noticed or even investigated.

He slowly walked inside, taking in a dramatic deep breath, sounding far more satisfied than he actually was. As he did, Kasumi walked in, carrying a tray with tea. Later, he would see to the rest of the house, and exploit any opportunities as they arose. He would remember the layout far more clearly, and it would work to his advantage and his plans. His plans to ruin this woman's life, and destroy everything she loved. However, before that, he would sit, and over tea, he would talk to this beautiful, serene woman who made an ordered life amid the chaos, and he would enjoy her company.

And silently hate himself.

***

Turning to the pool, Amaun saw not his faithful tracker and companion, but a human woman, injured but alive. These cursed pools, used as ritual sites and burial grounds by the ancient peoples of the island, and focused on a ley line nexus - an area of incredible magic and power - amazed him. It was then that he noticed the three large stones lying in the pool; not stones at all, but eggs. They were eggs of the Great Serpent, which had lain dormant for unknown ages. With his fist, he smashed them, the three eggs in the pool, and from their remains rose three women, beautiful and fair: one of silver hair, one of gold, and one of pure onyx. With dulcet siren voices, they spoke to him.

"Come, you who are Child of Man. Come unto us, and we will birth you the greatest of just progeny, so that you and your glory will rule all men unto the end of days. You have bled your weight; reap your rewards for all mankind."

Amaun stayed his hand, and showed mercy, for the three were new and innocent to the world, and with the Great Serpent dead at his feet, his vengeance was satiated. As was the custom of his long dead people, Amaun consumed the heart of his Prey, and took its power to augment his own. Ascendant, he brought to the island those he could trust, those who had followed and aided him over the Hunt. He gathered them to him, to that cave, and to those Cursed Springs, and so was born the Ma'at Musk Dynasty.

The island at the Heart of the Sea did flourish, in this, the Golden Age of the Musk, and Sho Amaun Ma'at ruled for thousands of years. His Golden City raised temples to the heavens, moved mountains, and worked great wonders of which mankind would never compare. His followers scoured the world, and brought to their Lord only the best of man, the wisest of man, and the strongest of man. And, in time, did Amaun come unto what was his, and the Three Women birthed him Three Sons. For them did he Rest and Sleep, so that the world would be passed onto his noble progeny, whom he had raised and loved and brought into the light and instilled with honor.

***

China.

The Guide was anxious, and when he got anxious the back of his hands got itchy. He resisted the urge to scratch them, and looked around his home, ensuring that everything was in place and where it was expected to be. In the Kitchen, he heard water running, and Rouge's soft humming. Upstairs, he could just barely hear his adopted daughter Plum running around, making last minute checks of the second floor in preparation for their guest.

Plum was a good girl: smart, vibrant, and curious. She was an explorer, ready and hungry to see the world, much as he had been, so long ago. So long ago, it seemed another, past, life. His blood didn't flow in her veins, but her spirit was Kin. She was so quick to learn, to pick up on things, and most importantly, she knew the difference between learning and knowledge. The village she was from was under Joketsuzoku protection and supervision, and they, like their enemies and neighbors the Musk, stressed knowledge as essential to growth. Hsing Kung, Guide to Jyusenkyou, disagreed. It was learning, not knowledge, that brought growth.

Knowledge implied certainty, and in an uncertain universe, that was impossible to hold to forever. Knowledge clung to proven things, rocks against the raging and ever changing tide. Learning was built on uncertainty, on the mysteries of the universe. It was the question, not so much the answer, that Hsing believed the key to understanding. Plum echoed this, Plum embraced this, and he had taken her under his wing. She would, in the fullness of time, become the next Guide and be privy to its mysteries and secrets. And then he would finally die, content.

The door rang.

Hsing pushed down the need to scratch the back of his hands.

"Father?" Rouge said, cheerful and somewhat excited by the company. "Should I get the door?"

"No," Hsing said, softly. "No, Daughter. I shall get it."

Rouge was normally shy around strangers, but always quick to open up and try and be friends. The Amazon boy that had stayed here for two days, Mu Tzu, had at first subtly avoided her, preferring his presence and listening to the learning that Hsing imparted into the boy. For this, the Guide was both sad and grateful. It wouldn't do for his daughter to get too used to him being around, because he could never stay, and because there was no guarantee he'd survive the week. Mousse had been adamant - he would not bring danger or hardship to their home.

Danger would come anyway.

Danger was already here.

Slowly opening the door, already knowing whom it was, Hsing came face to face with a man and a presence he could never forget. Stepping aside, and inclining his head, the Jyusenkyou Guide welcomed him in.

"You look well, Hsing," the man said with a small smile, stepping inside. He looked different, now. His face had returned to the hard-set lines, the strong jaw... the piercing eyes of his youth. Even his hair had returned with a vengeance, though it was still kept short, in strict military fashion. A single streak of silver, like some hint of his true age, framed the hair just above his ears. A simple set of formal pants, a belt with a cross, a plain white shirt. There was no doubt. He wasn't coming.

He was here.

"You look like a young man, Bishop." Hsing smiled, and noted the two others outside. Two bodyguards, one he recognized as Kiini, the leader of the vicious Muscle Sword Clan. The other was a woman in a black business suit, with long dark hair cut modestly and bundled up in a bun, sunglasses hiding her eyes. She was one of his 'Furies,' he knew immediately. They were part of his personal bodyguard, and frequently used as political infiltrators and assassins when dealing with those outside the Society. They were also all fanatically loyal to their master, and supposedly joined together in some sort of Slavic coven.

"I have been restored, old friend," Bishop smile never really reached his eyes. But it had never reached his eyes, not in all the years Hsing had known him. "Let us sit and talk. I will tell you of it all."

"That would be nice. It has been too long since we talked," Hsing said and called a little louder into the Kitchen. "Rouge, could you bring in the tea?"

"Tea would be lovely." Bishop pivoted a little, his eyes meeting his two bodyguards. "Kiini, Rutha, stand alert out front. No disturbances, understood?"

Kiini nodded. "No disturbances."

The woman made no visible sign of acknowledgement.

***

As Amaun slept, however, the Three Women, Serpents all, schemed and worked away at their sons. The Three of Ma'at gradually fell, subsumed, to corruption and darkness, and the Age of Gold was no more, replaced by Iron and Fire. The Three Sons warred, and debauched, and abused, and went unto mankind and multiplied. The Heart of the Sea had become thoroughly corrupted, when the stench awoke Amaun from his Great Sleep, and as he beheld what had become of all he had wrought, he cried to the heavens.

"Lo, all I loved lies ruined, and all I despised has become legion."

Confronting his three children, and his three chosen wives, he fully realized what had happened. The sirens whispered to their sons of their father's death and fall, of their eternal rule. They whispered of the Legacy of the Serpent, and now will-less, the Three Sons did listen, and all that he had loved attacked Amaun in a fury. His sons were possessed of terrible power, yet they were not his equals, and so finally decided, Ma'at slew them. Turning next to his wives, he heard them say:

"Blame not us alone, but yourself, Lord Husband. For you were desirous of what man must not have, and you had fallen to the Serpent long before we set eyes upon you."

In his rage, Amaun cut them down, and destroyed them.

He turned then to his land, and the island at the Heart of the Sea was destroyed, and the progeny of Ma'at slain, one after another. He spared only the youngest, only the most innocent, of his grandchildren, from his wrath. And as the island was consumed, he bid them flee to the old lands of man, out of paradise. Heart heavy with despair, hands wet with his own blood, Sho Amaun Ma'at disappeared into Sleep, never to awake. His was the last trace of the Serpent, and in retreating forever into death; he would indeed end the Hunt.

***

Shampoo had been tracking her prey for too long. It was bringing back memories of her one great failure that she wasn't prepared to deal with. It was getting late, and her two companions, Cherry and Chain, were eager to find camp for the night. Shampoo, however, would hear none of it. The two girls were herbalists, and backup, though she doubted they'd be necessary. When she found Mousse she would take care of him personally, and with finality.

Clambering up the rocky incline, she took a moment to look around and enjoy the view. Mousse had passed through local places Shampoo herself had never been to. Almost two weeks ago, she'd nearly cornered him in a small village where he was staying. She'd picked up the pace then, but Mousse was always a few steps ahead, and for a few days, it was like he had completely disappeared in an isolated highland area.

Soon after, however, he'd cropped up again, and headed down into the lowland valley, probably to get supplies. He had a good lead on her, but seemed to linger for a day and a half, questioning the locals, before heading back to the mountains. The town itself was a Joketsuzoku protectorate, providing them with food and clothing, mostly, as well as the normal tribute of their best and brightest girl children, and occasionally males. When she arrived, the Village Speaker, a woman appointed by the Council of Elders who Shampoo didn't know, treated her cadre to a small feast. They were on the outskirts of Amazon territory, and concerned about the Musk attacks filtering to them by word of mouth in the west.

Apparently, two villages there had been overrun, and surrendered to the Musk, while a third had been burnt to the ground when the Amazon garrison there made a stand. They spoke of that with particular fear, for one of the Musk armies had acquired a reputation for ruthlessness. Supposedly, the Dragon Prince himself rode with one of the armies, at its head. However, this tiny hamlet was far from that conflagration, and Shampoo assured the woman that the Amazons would not be caught unprepared for them again, and would give no more ground to the foul Musk.

The same Musk Mousse was guilty of aiding.

She had wanted to doubt it at first, to believe that there was a mistake or misunderstanding. But after this, after these reports of Musk atrocities and advances into Amazon land, Shampoo realized that he truly must have turned against them and provided the enemy with information on garrison numbers and supplies in town stores. She was eager to get the unpleasantness of her task here done with, eager to destroy the traitor, so that she could return to fight with her sisters against the man-beasts that threatened them. She would fight alongside them, and together, they would beat back the Musk to their mountain hiding places, just like every Amazon warrior dreamed of doing, from youth to deathbed.

They would win.

Prove themselves through conflict.

Show themselves superior through victory.

Leaving the village with a local guide, Shampoo and her two companions followed Mousse, deeper into the mountain range. Where he was going, she had no idea. Perhaps the traitor was looking for his Musk allies, or for a place to hide out the coming storm. It didn't matter. Mousse made no effort to conceal his tracks or presence anymore, probably thinking that he'd lost anyone who had been sent after him. Shampoo was not deterred. She had tracked Ranma and his father for months, across China and Japan, when she couldn't even speak basic Japanese, and still she had hunted them down to their lair. It was, no doubt, that reason why Shampoo had been ordered by the Elders to find Mousse and bring him to justice. Only she could know him well enough, overpower him alone, and track him quickly enough, to make the journey worthwhile.

Now, as she looked around, Shampoo let out a deep sigh, faint wisps of condensation in the air from her breath. It was getting cold, and while the air wasn't so thin yet as to make breathing laborious, there was a strong biting wind blowing in from the north. Her vest tight around her, Shampoo checked her weapons as an afterthought, and kept forward. There was a sense of something approaching, something powerful at the extreme edge of her senses that couldn't be classified or quantified.

"When are we going to stop, over?"

That was Cheery, Shampoo thought, and looked over her shoulder. Cheery and Chain were identical twins, from some village called Yaoshin, if she remembered the name of the place correctly. The two girls were nearly impossible to tell apart, and had an odd manner of speech that reminded Shampoo of something from a long time ago. Still, Cherry, Shampoo had learned, tended to walk to Shampoo's left side, while Chain usually stuck to the right, and slightly behind. It was Cherry (the more talkative of the twin sisters) that spoke up.

"We'll stop when I say we'll stop," Shampoo snapped, annoyed. The two girls had no stamina, and tended to slow her down and sleep too long. They weren't warriors. They weren't fighters. They were weak. After this, she would say as much to her elder sister of one year, Tso Pu, who had recommended them for this job. Shampoo would be sure to see that Cherry and Chain never became adopted into the Tribe as Full Amazons, with all the rights and power that came with that station. They weren't worthy of the honor and the title, and their weakness would enfeeble the entire Amazon Tribe.

"But it's late," Chain complained, loudly, obviously not caring that she might alert Mousse to their presence. "My feet hurt from all this climbing and walking and..."

"We will stop..." Shampoo turned slowly, interrupting the other girl and pointing at her sharply. "When I stop. Understood, Initiate? LinLin and RanRan are little children, and they would not be complaining as much as you two do. Because they, unlike you, are Amazon warriors."

Chain looked down, unwilling to meet Shampoo's gaze. Snorting, Shampoo kept walking, and her two companions kept following. The ground was a coarse mix of broken stone and sharp unfriendly weeds, and still at the extreme of Shampoos' senses, something was tingling. Warning her. Preparing her. Rounding a corner, she noticed something about the rock outcropping next to her.

"Hold on." She signaled for Cherry and Chain to stop, and looked more closely at the outcropping. It seemed to be a large single boulder, but it looked cut - hewn, into an almost rectangular shape. Tracing her hand down its surface, to the base, she felt a seam where it fit perfectly into another hewn rock. And another, mostly buried. A building had been here once. This was the work of man, not a natural occurrence.

"Look!" Cheery yelled, and pointed to something around the corner of the broken face of the rock wall. Shampoo quickly jumped over, and gasped at what she saw.

It was huge.

It was unbelievable.

A ship, beached high on this mountain, lying slightly on its side. Perhaps three hundred feet long, and over sixty feet wide, it defied imagining. Dark spires of broken wood bloomed from the corpse, high into the air. Everywhere, bits and pieces of it, parts of the hull, parts of the compartments inside, where strewn around. The place was like a graveyard, and the smashed ruins of this ship made seem like some Kind of ghostly cathedral. It creaked and groaned as the wind blew through it, and Shampoo felt a chill fall over her.

"Finally made it, did you?" The voice came from the ruins. It was Mousse.

"Mu Tzu!" Shampoo focused on her mission, found some small perverse comfort in it. "Show yourself, you coward! You will run and hide from me no longer!"

"Who's running?" his echoing voice asked, mirthful. "Who's hiding?"

"You are!" Shampoo walked forward, towards the wreck. She noticed the occasional assorted weapon lying around, rusted and useless, mixed amid the broken wood and stone. A blast of cold wind came in from a nearby gorge, raw and angry.

"I let you follow me. I knew your sister would send you to get me."

"If you let me find you, why are you hiding? Face me and die well!"

Mousse laughed. He jumped from out of sight onto a rock, and then onto one of the broken, but still tall, ribs of the destroyed ship.

"I'd rather not die, Shan Pu. Not before, and not now. I brought you here to talk - to reason with you. I knew you would be sent to get me, for what I did, and what I did not do. I knew this, and I hoped it a mistake on their part."

"Why? Because you think me too weak to finish you?" Shampoo stared up at him.

"Because I think you smart enough to know when not to fight, and when to listen to reason. That time is now. I know things..."

"You know only what you stole from us! Stole and sold to the Musk! Even now, they attack us, and they do so with your aid!" Shampoo shook her head. "I will not listen to you. I will not listen to the words of one without honor!"

Behind Shampoo, Cherry and Chain took a few steps back and away.

"Shan Pu..." Mousse tried again.

"You will fight, or you will run," Shampoo said. "Those are your options, Mu Tzu. I will not fail the Elders. I will not be swayed."

"So, that is how it is, is it?" Mousse frowned from his perch, high above them. "You may come to regret your decision, Shan Pu. I bear you no ill will, indeed, a small part of me still yearns for your approval and love... if you leave here, I will not pursue you. Go back to your masters and tell them to make their own peace, first."

The expanse of the fallen Airship howled in the wind, the great arching ribs, like those of some Kind of beached whale, long dead and picked of its skin and flesh, swayed slowly, creaking and adding their tortured sound to the angry snarl of the place. A shiver of dread passed through Shampoo involuntarily, as her hair waved freely behind her. Mousse's eyes were hidden by his glasses - glasses firmly fixed on his face, not put away or drooping down his nose. The Amazon male had his hands in his sleeves, his face bearing a look of cold analysis towards those below.

It was as if this place, this graveyard, had changed him.

Fortified him.

"You are a fool to think I would return again in disgrace!" Shampoo yelled up at him, her pride covering any insecurity and nervousness. "You are a traitor to our people! You betrayed them, and you betrayed me! I have been told to Kill you, so I will Kill you! There is nothing more to it!"

"Really?" Mousse chuckled, his tone firm and unyielding. "I know too much, hold too much in my mind and in my hand, to die just yet. There is more to this world than your pretty pride and need to gain favor with the Council. I had hoped to convince you..."

"Convince me to turn against the Elders?" Shampoo's outrage made her voice barely recognizable as her own. "They made me all I am! They ARE the Amazon Tribe!"

"If you really believe that... If you cling to it with every breath and beat of your heart, as I see you do," Mousse answered slowly, his shoulders widening in preparation. "Then you and I will fight. And I will not hold back any longer."

"So be it, Mu Tzu!" Shampoo reached behind her, bonbori quickly in hand.

Mousse's sleeves seemed to part in slow motion, before becoming a total blur. Shampoo's eyes couldn't even identify the projectiles, but she knew what they were: ropes, chains, weighted yoyos (some bladed), the occasional gauntlet. The world focused, her blood pounded into the base of her head, flooding her body and senses with power. She jumped, instinct and reflexes guiding thought rather than the other way around. Twisting and bending, she avoided the first flurry of his attacks, but had to dip and pull back under his next assault.

The ground became pockmarked by Mousse's weapons, but as every one hit the ground or even neared it, they were pulled back the fifty or sixty feet into Mousse's sleeves. He alternated hands as he jumped to another gaping wooden rib. Shampoo dodged and spun, slapping aside the more dangerous gauntlets while trying to avoid the smaller, sharper, attacks. She didn't even wince as a bladed yoyo cut a line of red across her left bicep.

Her foot touched the ground, her momentum altered, and below her rocks and clumps of dirt took to the air, a testament to her change in inertia, and how much it had been imparted into the rocky and rubble strewn floor that was their battlefield. She dived into and through, head and shoulders low, bonbori held wide and to the side, and passed by the isolated wooden rib Mousse stood on, directing attacks from on high.

It splintered in a cloud of cracked wood.

Mousse jumped again, and Shampoo's eyes narrowed as she followed and mentally calculated his next position. He was aiming for nearby rocky outcropping, a slab of upturned stone that had once been part of Fortress Soryn. Mousse had a great advantage over her at these long ranges, and even as she watched him gracefully move through the air, coils of rope and weapons retracted back to its master. Blinking as the answer came to her, Shampoo lunged into the air, and caught the hilts of two knives connected to different but adjacent ropes, and tugged.

Mousse's trajectory altered a tiny fraction, but the ropes instantly became slack. The Amazon male landed on the rock outcropping, sleeves back together, glasses glinting against the few rays of available sunlight. Shampoo threw the two detached ropes aside, her frustration and anger rising to new levels. Her legs surged with power, and she jumped up to the side and backwards, onto and against another tall rock formation, before rocketing towards him, at top speed, her course unchangeable.

He smiled.

"You don't expect that to work, do you?" He spoke quickly, took a few steps forward, and fell straight down. She passed right over him and overshot her target. Shampoo had expected him to attack, which would allow her to close the distance and draw him in. Silently, she cursed. Mousse pivoted and looked up as she passed by. She was now behind the rock, and he back flipped four times, just as she came down on where he had been, from out of no where, her bonbori smashing the ground into oblivion.

"Damn you Mu Tzu! Stand still!" she screamed and ran forward, blindly. Mousse's sleeves just parted, little more than a crack, and Shampoo realized she'd been drawn into a trap. Crossing her bonbori, she twirled and spun them, forming a de facto shield to block and absorb the wave of weapons the Amazon male threw at her. As she plowed forward, she felt a strong tug, and realized Mousse had been rapidly sidestepping. Her feet dug into the hard broken earth, trying to halt or slow herself, when the sharp pull, coming from her now entwined bonbori, took her off her feet. Desperate, she tried to let go, but found her hands tangled as well.

"Forgive me!" Shampoo thought she heard Mousse yell, and she was thrown into a hard wall of wood that smashed behind her.

"Forgive you?" She snarled, and opened her eyes. She saw Mousse holding the ropes firmly, all of them, a trail leading from his hands to hers. She smirked, and with all her formidable strength, pulled back. "For WHAT?"

"W...wha?" Mousse left the ground, and Shampoo pressed her feet flat against the depression in the wooden wall behind her. Pushing back and out, she sped forward and, like a human air intercept missile, plowed into Mousse. He grunted as the mass of chains and weapons and tangled bonbori bowled into him. As they fell down, hitting the ground on an uncoordinated melee, both fighters' instincts Kicked in: they rolled, and were almost instantly back on their feet. The two Amazons, one male, one female, both the best of their gender, stared at each other over the mess of weapons that held them both hostage.

"Now," Shampoo said, slowly. "Now I have you."

"I could say the same to you." He pursed his lips in a silent Kiss.

"Die, Mu Tzu!" She pulled back, drew him forward, and Kicked up and around the obstruction around them. Mousse smiled as he twisted, ducked under the chains, and tugged. Shampoo left her feet, again, but instead of slamming into the ground, she landed on one knee, cracking the ground. The two twisted and Kicked and grabbled through the ever-tangling medium between them, struggling for control and position, slamming each other into the ground in turn. Finally, at the same time, the overwhelmed and overstressed ropes around their hands and wrists snapped, and they were free.

"Shall we try that dance again, my darling Shampoo?" Mousse's hands blurred, and suddenly he had his Deerhorn Knives in hand. Oddly, Shampoo felt herself smiling back. She reached to her shoulders, and pulled out her Amazon Dao: sabers, one short and one long. They were Sister Blades, left and right respectively. With a clash of metal driven by muscle, they met, and started to dance.

Shampoo braced herself, and kept moving. Mousse had the advantage in reach, especially when it came to Kicks - his preferred method of unarmed close combat damage dealing. His Deerhorn Knives were dangerous weapons, and especially effective defending against swords with their superb hooking and locking techniques. They were capable of breaking and manipulating the energy of her own swords, too, so she mixed up her attacks, and when she committed to a true attack, it was with overwhelming force.

"Come on, Shan Pu! You can do better than this, can't you?" Mousse taunted her. He had never taunted her before; he had never opposed her before. No one ever really had.

"Stupid... Making me angry," she hissed, through clenched teeth. Her swords were pressed together in a quick lock, but she twisted the Little Sister blade, and scissored out of the hold his Deerhorn knives had on them. Stepping back with her left foot, she brought her Big Sister blade around and down in a fluid motion, aiming for the throat but catching only a few strands of black hair. The male Amazon leaned back, locked the sword, and pressed it aside, his other hand striking out, blades glistening, and Shampoo quickly intercepted it and put more strength into the parry to try and throw him off balance.

Mousse went with the movement, rolled forward, and snap Kicked back. It grazed Shampoo's temple, and she swiped at him, high, then low, then twice high, spinning into a cycle as Mousse desperately ducked and dodged and blocked the quick attacks. Suddenly, sensing an opening, he jumped straight up. Shampoo followed without hesitation, and at the apex of their vertical leap, they resumed trading blows. Now in midair, Shampoo took advantage of the situation and crouched, switching into a cross slice combination of attacks Mousse had difficulty fending off.

Then, as they approached the ground, Mousse's wrists flicked, and he moved with deceptive speed. A false lunge lured Shampoo's blades away and to the right, while his left Deerhorn Knife moved in, catching her Little Sister sword at the base. They hit the ground, sending up a cloud of debris, even as their feet adjusted and reset stances, jockeying for position and power. Shampoo kept relatively still, but Mousse was constantly moving as the weapons of their right hands clashed at an ever-increasing speed. Within seconds, the air seemed literally charged with sparks.

"Give it up, Mu Tzu!" Shampoo snarled, pulling back with her left, lunging with her right. "You cannot escape Amazon justice forever!"

"You overestimate yourself, *and* your so called 'Amazon justice!'" Mousse answered. The lock between their left weapons broke, and Mousse spun, seemingly rejuvenated, into a veritable dervish of cross patterns and feints. Shampoo blocked them as they came, as he advanced, and as she slowly fell back. Her mind told her to wait out the storm, wait for him to tire, wait for an opportunity to present itself.

Mousse kept coming.

Impatient, Shampoo made a quick assault, sensing a small window of opportunity in the pattern. Mousse switched seamlessly into a low crouch, spun, blocked, and threw her. It was a harmless throw, really, and she landed on her feet, but it gave Mousse the initiative once more. He kept to her right now, the opposite of before, and she didn't realize she was being herded until the ankle of her left foot hit a bundle of chains and rope, and quickly grew tangled as she fell back.

"No!" She gasped. For the first time, she sensed the cold threat of defeat and humiliation nipping at her heels - creeping up her spine. The prospect of death was secondary. Indeed, it could even be seen as a favor and a release over the shame of failure and defeat. She had tasted that most bitter fruit before, with Ranma... with Mousse, it would be a million times worse.

"Yes!" Mousse was moving to strike, the light off his glasses fading with the setting sun. How long had they been fighting?

Desperate now, more than ever, Shampoo braced her shoulders against the ground, Kicked her legs up, and spun like a top, first centered around the base of her neck, then on the ball of one palm. Around her, the chains and rope tangled at her feet spun and tore into the air like whips, like a hundred pound cat o' nine tails, like a blender... and Mousse was caught in it. The trap had turned against him, and he was hard pressed to back up, fend off the angry chains and coils, and keep track of her next attack.

Sharply and suddenly Kicking out into an upside-down split, the restraints at her feet broke. The pain was terrible, and her ankles were screaming, but as she rolled back and to her feet, Shampoo was given an unexpected surprise. Mousse had lost one of his Deerhorn Knives to the maelstrom she had created. Raising her Sister Blades, she gave him a cruel smile, eyes narrow.

"Feh!" He growled, and threw the yin-yang shaped weapon at her. She leaned back and to the side, effortlessly, and it sailed past her and imbedded itself into the wall-corpse of the nearby floundered Lucky Gods Airship. His sleeves met, for just the blink of an eye, parted, and he was wielding claws, three from each arm. His wrists and palms were sheathed in studded black leather, part of the Claw weapons he now used.

With a feral scream, she charged at him, swords a blur.

A high strike, low, then a swipe coupled with a lunge. She attacked, and attacked, and attacked like a woman possessed. Driven was more accurate. Driven by the need to win. Driven by the need to prove herself through victory. Driven to draw blood for the cause of her leaders. Shampoo's rage was a tempest that couldn't be contained, but for every blow, for every attack, Mousse countered, or dodged.

She attacked high, and his feet came into play. He would dance amid her strikes, and try to sweep her feet out from under her. She attacked low, and his Claws became far more dangerous. He would intercept her blows more often, and use them to initiate counterattacks. Instinct and the power calling from her blood drowned out all thought save the defeat of her foe. Time seemed meaningless, pointless, and insubstantial. Her wounds seemed unimportant, like they were someone else's and that person only told her what it was like. The pain was purely second hand.

She would Kill Mousse.

She would Kill any traitor to the Amazon Nation.

She would Kill any Musk that dared face her.

She would Kill any she was told to.

She was the PRIDE of the Joketsuzoku.

"You're nothing!" She yelled, and they crashed through a wooden wall. "Do you hear me, Mu Tzu? YOU ARE NOTHING!!"

"And yet... I live." He grimaced, taking a bleeding wound to the left shoulder, as he counterattacked. His Claws finally caught both her Sister Blades, and with eerie grace, he Kicked up, hooked his legs, both of them, over her forearms to the elbow, and fell backwards. Shampoo's swords bent and snapped under the pressure, and the two fighters fell into and through the creaking wood beneath them, to another hard layer, Kicking up a billowing cloud of smoke and dust.

"Not for long you won't. Mu Tzu." Shampoo, now weaponless, took up a low Amazon stance. It was her favorite, a combination of power and speed, for all that it lacked in flexibility or evasion.

"Talk, talk, talk. Is that all you women do?" The male Amazon grinned at the rage he'd fanned, tossed aside his ruined and bent Wrist Claws, and took up a modified crane stance. He was fighting unarmed, but as anyone who knew him would testify that he was far from weaponless.

Both warriors took an instant to note their surroundings and their battlefield: flash imprinting it into memory and impulse. They were inside the ancient hulk now, amid its ruined and broken levels. It was a great open maze, dizzying to plot or look on. Great canyons of hull, expanses of blasted, burnt and broken wood that once formed the bowels of the ship. The arching ribs of the place towered like monuments to the sky, casting long shadows. Everything was terraced, one layer on the next, collapsed sections falling into dark rubble. Behind and ahead, the blasted middle merged with the mostly intact aft and fore. Thick spider webs and tattered cloth swayed in the wind.

Mousse advanced, and Shampoo received him; his hands struck out, open palm blows that Shampoo blocked or fielded. She tried to counter with a twin tiger blow to his midsection, but rising his elbow and supporting it with his left arm moved it just aside, and her open hands, fingers curled menacingly, brushed over his robe, tearing it. The sound seemed to bring attention to the fact that it wasn't in particularly good shape anyway.

Mousse jumped, but Shampoo leaned back, a high Kick twisting to capture his foot with her own, at the ankle, and pull him back down. Gritting his teeth, Mousse tapped his next to last toe on each foot, and small blades snapped out of each shoe's base. As their hands struck and countered and warred, their feet made a different dance all their own. Mousse maneuvered to free the room for a good Kick, to take advantage of his superior reach, and bladed shoes. Shampoo made sure to intercept every Kick, every step almost, just as it left the ground.

As they fought on, high above, the clouds obscured the sky.

With every step, every hard movement, the ground beneath them creaked and cracked, threatening to fall apart entirely. Dust rose high from unsettled boards that hadn't been touched, or even seen, in years. Bits of broken wood rained slowly from above, and the two fought on. Then Mousse made a mistake, as Shampoo intercepted yet another attempt at a Kick with her foot. Expertly, she twisted his foot slightly, and he landed wrong - the small blade embedding in the wood floor. With an audible 'snap' it broke off.

Mousse followed with a quick sweep, but the surprised Shampoo still managed to jump. He watched as she seemed to float against the broken twilight sky, landing on a higher platform that shook with her weight. Grimly, he cracked a half smile and broke the silence between them. "Where you running to, Shan Pu? You can leave anytime you want. I haven't changed my mind on that."

"I..." she took a deep breath. They were both breathing heavily now, but she seemed slightly worse off. "I won't run from a male, and certainly not a filthy criminal like you."

"So nice that you still think highly of me," Mousse said, and laughed. With a sharp roundhouse Kick, he snapped one of the nearby wooden supports in half. Shampoo looked down on him, but didn't stumble as the wooden platform she was on cracked and fell. Instead she rode it down to Mousse's level. It landed with a thunderous crash, and for a second it seemed like the structure would hold against the trauma.

For a second.

Then everything seemed to fall apart. The world groaned - pillars shot upwards; boards and planks fell down with a crash. Both martial artists jumped, and landed on the now surviving support columns that ran up from below. Balancing, one foot in each column, they stared at each other, determination in their eyes.

With only a second's delay, they walked across the remaining pillars and supports, each only three inches in diameter, or occasionally rectangular, with even less surface area to it. Mousse was at an advantage, with Shampoo's footwork unable to establish a superior close range for her. He picked away at her defenses with Kicks, hard and fast, as they circled. At their feet, the pillars creaked and threatened to split under the weight.

"So, are we back to not talking?" Mousse asked, punctuating each word with a snap of the knee, before making a small jump into a chicken Kick that Shampoo barely blocked, falling back a foot onto another pillar.

"What could I possibly say to you?" She responded, voice burning with indignation.

"A little love would be nice. But I'd settle for understanding." He Kicked low, at the pole she was standing on, and its top broke off leaving a splintery mess. Shampoo cartwheeled across two more poles, before touching both feet to a safe pillar some distance away.

"Understanding!?" She cried, not sure whether he was joking or not, and surprised that she cared.

"You never understood me, Shan Pu. I devoted myself to you!" He jumped at her, she blocked the Kick, but he recovered and landed perfectly, "But, now, I don't think I ever understood you either."

"I always hated you Mu Tzu!" She high Kicked, strong and wide, but missed. He replied, but she leaned back and it passed over her head. Reaching up, she tore down a long piece of wood, like a makeshift staff to compensate for her reach disadvantage. "I never made a secret of it!"

"And I always glorified you!" He bent his lower body slightly, avoided the lunge. Reaching up, he dug his fingers into the broken wood, found a seam, and tore down a splintered staff of his own. "I don't want to fight you. Shan Pu..."

"No more talking!" She attacked, leaning with her blows, and he met each one. "You always talk too much, Mu Tzu! This situation is simple. The Elders want you dead, and they want it done by my hand. This isn't personal. Not really. It's the law. It what I do."

"Is that all you aspire to?" He practically yelled at her. Their feet moved with a life and balance of their own. Neither Amazon gave it much thought, focusing on the clash of wood on wood between them, and the struggle. It was how things had always been among the Joketsuzoku. Shampoo would Kill him if she could, not just because he was male, not just because she had been ordered to, but because he was the weak, and she the strong. Combat would prove that. Amazons ruled each other by class and fiat. Combat forged the Amazons and kept them strong, but all too soon, combat would decimate the Amazons beyond recovery.

He hated them.

Yet he wanted... needed to save them.

"What are you blabbering on about?" Shampoo spoke on low angry tones.

"You're the finest Amazon warrior of your generation..." Mousse advanced on her, his blows like a hurricane. "You're the descendant of Great Warriors, male and female. Legends in their own right..." His makeshift staff crashed into Shampoo's, the sound reverberating through the world around them. "You're the future of the Amazons..."

"Spoiled!"

Clash.

"Blind!"

Clash.

"Arrogant!"

Clash!

"Doomed!" Mousse roared, and with a spin, he smashed Shampoo's weapon to bits and splinters. "Do you want to see why, Shampoo?" He jumped at her, suddenly, throwing his cracked staff aside and pushing her off her perch, feet failing to find purchase. "I'll show you!"

They landed, and something broke.

The snap of bone.

"Look." Mousse's voice came, echoed. "Look, Shampoo!"

She blinked, rolled over, trying to get to her feet, trying to keep fighting. Something shaded, something distinct, met her eyes. As faint light passed overhead, through rolling clouds, she saw the gaping hollow eyes, the gum less maw. She screamed, jumped up, tried to find footing. Instead, she heard something else break, looked down, and saw bones.

Bones everywhere.

"Now you see the legacy of the Joketsuzoku," Mousse said from behind her.

"What...?" Shampoo gulped air, taking it all in: the tattered clothing, the strewn bodies, some still clutching weapons, and the hollow eyes. They all seemed to be staring at her, refusing to blink, blaming and cursing her in their silence. "What is this?"

"This is Soryn. This was the sacrifice you were never made to know. This is why, within the week, the Amazon Council of Elders will all be dead," Mousse said, slowly steeping around and in front of her. His face was passive, neutral. "This is why your world... your comfortable, secure world, will come crashing down into oblivion."

Shampoo was silent, fighting with herself instead of him.

"I wouldn't lie to you, Shan Pu. I never lied to you," he said, simply. "Listen to me."

"Mu Tzu, I..." Shampoo looked up; saw a descending shadow fall down on Mousse. Then two flowers were in his hair, and something hit her from behind. There was sharp pain - blinding pain, and then the blessed cocoon of darkness enveloped everything.