Author's Notes: It's been too long since I've last written. I've been quite busy. Serving one's nation call for some uncompromising schedules sometimes. Well, anyway, I've managed to finally get this episode written.

For those of you who are interested in knowing, I've got the rough storyline done for my series. Hopefully I will be able to see this work to completion. In total, I've got something like 25 episodes. And this is the first of my two/three-parters.

Well, thanks again go to the people who created all the Ranma stuff and also to all the fanfic writers before me who have done a great deal of excellent and inspiring work. And of course to the readers for your support and comments.

The Breaking Point Part I

 
Episode 4: The Lost Boy Returns . . . Again

            Another dawn. Again the first rays of light came spearing over the mountaintops, cutting through the darkness, heralding the coming of a new day. But to Ryoga who slumbered, literally buried six feet under, he did not see the coming of day.

            His undisturbed mind was slow to wake. He came to when it finally decided that it had enough rest. He rose abruptly, realizing that it was still dark around him and almost drove his head through the ceiling of packed soil above him.

            Ouch. He frowned and tried to get his bearings. He was underground again. Twisting around, he orientated his body, searching for the exit. There was light coming through an opening up ahead. It was the brilliant light of day; he wrapped his hand around one of the backpack straps and dragged it behind as he moved over to the snow-edged hole, his brain coming fully alert now.

            Many miles up in space, the orbiting KEYHOLE satellite noted another disturbance. A very slight one. It was a head, poking out of the snow. No one seemed to notice it even though the satellite got pretty good pictures of a head wrapped with a bandanna emerging from a hole in the ground. Analysts were still trying to figure out the previous night's disturbance.

            The morning air hit him like a wave. It was cool and refreshing, compared to the air that had gone stale the night before in his burrow. Now he could finally survey the land around him.

            It was barren

            Totally devoid of humanity. There was not even the slightest sign of human habitation anywhere on the horizon. All he could see around him were other snowcapped mountains and the deep valleys between them.

            Now which way should I go? He asked himself. Head east maybe. Ryoga looked for the sun, saw it, and promptly headed down the mountain in the opposite direction. I'm going to find Nerima . . . I've got to!

            And he began his run down the snow-covered incline, his unprotected feet struggling through the knee-deep snow. There was only one thing in his mind. Find home.

            His foot caught on something and he tipped forward, falling face first into the snow. He held out a hand to stop himself, but it was already too late. His feet were already kicking in the air as he ploughed forward, his neck twisting at an impossible angle. He heard some vertebrae pop as his feet dangle above his head. Then his feet were beginning to dig into the snow next to his ears.

            His head connected with a boulder and the impact sending him catapulting through the frigid air, limbs flailing wildly. He came crashing into the snow again with bone-shattering force and he lost all control of his rapid descent. He fell head over heels and the pain kept alternating between his head and his posterior.

            Again, the KEYHOLE satellite picked up another anomaly. But again no one seemed to notice the ball of snow that rolled down the mountainside, getting larger and larger as it went.

            Ryoga had almost blacked out inside the white interior of his snowball. The world continued to toss him over and over, but the pain was gone now, replaced by this growing nausea as he rolled downhill. His awareness of his orientation blurred compounding his already horrid senses of direction and he the blackness had reduced his vision to only tiny points of light.

            Just when he thought he would finally black out, his world came to an abrupt stop. The liquids in his body continue to spin in contradicting directions while he struggled to regain his bearings.

            When he finally extracted himself from that cursed ball of snow and ice, he was in a lamentable state. His snowball had come to grief against a great boulder. Every joint in his body ached, throbbing in agony at the sudden overextensions. He huffed breathlessly as he crawled away from the mound of snow that had been the great ball only moments before.

            Get up! He made a frustrated sound as he hauled himself to his feet. Several more joints popped back into place, but he was beyond caring about the pain. He felt a murderous rage building up within him and he let fly at the boulder with his finger. To the common observer, it would look like a simple prick.

            Cracks spread from the point of impact and the boulder seemed to shatter. Then it disintegrated into millions of tiny shards and a depression seemed to appear in the snow as the entire rock simply self-destructed.

            As the roar of stone chips rushing past him subsided, he had expected to hear silence. But instead, he was met with the deep rumble. He felt it more than he actually heard it, the ground trembling under his feet as thin sheets of snow began slide past his legs.

            What the . . .? His eyes traced the source of the sound and he certainly did not like what he saw. Ice. Snow. Thousands . . . make that hundreds of thousands of tons of it, were bearing down on him, rolling down the side of the mountain in one gigantic, crushing wave.

            His eyes widened in horror at the sight of this tidal wave of frigid death and destruction coming at him. It seemed to move slowly at first, menacing and unstoppable. When he finally forced his body back into action, turning to run, it was already too late. The leading edge of the avalanche caught him and he was drawn helplessly into the great deluge of snow.

            If his earlier 'ride' in a snowball had been painful, his 'stay' in the avalanche was absolutely excruciating. He felt his already overextended joints contorting in ways that he had not thought possible even after his recent experience in the snowball and he reached a new level of physical agony as he continued his downhill journey.

            With the greatly increased pressure of crushed ice on him this time, couple with the greater force that pushed him forward, he really blacked out. Which was just as well since the avalanche took him through a forest, slamming his limp form from tree to tree before finally allowing him to come to rest against another massive boulder.

            It was awhile before he finally came to again. He woke to the sounds of the forest and when he finally cracked his frost-covered eyelids open, he was greeted by the sight of sunlight stabbing at his eyes through the thin foliage of the trees that towered over him.

            For the umpteenth time that day, Ryoga pulled himself to his feet. There were aches and pains in places that he didn't know he had places, but he didn't let them stop him from standing. So maybe he really hurt in some place and maybe he would have incapacitated if he were unfortunate enough to bump those injured spots, but he told himself that he had to keep going.

            The pack rested uneasily on his bruised and battered shoulders and even he had to grit his teeth slightly at the pain. He shifted the weight, trying to balance it out and took a step forward, testing his throbbing knees.

            They worked.

            He took a few more steps, adjusting his posture and the pack so as to minimize the pain and found that he could still make good time despite his injuries. Maybe the real pain would come later. He stared at his surroundings. It was the same everywhere. Trees, trees and more trees. He closed his eyes for a while and concentrated, willing for some spiritual prompting to show him the way. Well, certainly enough people were putting their trust in the divine back in Nerima so I guess it wouldn't hurt to try . . .

            He concentrated. He focused. He meditated.

            He thought of all the deities he knew and even created a few of his own in the process and sought them all for their help. He tried to attune his senses with the Force. Wasn't there something about how it is in everything around us? But either he wasn't trying hard enough or he was simply not Force-sensitive at all.

            When he opened his eyes again, he was still standing in the middle of a forest, confronted with the same problem of which way to go. Not even a breeze blew to give him the slightest excuse to call something a sign.

            In times like this, he would simply move forward and hope for the best, which was what he did. He threaded his way through the thick forest. Sooner or later he would be clear of the trees and then he would be able to concentrate on finding his way back to Nerima.

Little did Ryoga know that his journey to Nerima was only beginning. For the purposes of the plot, the author had decided that it would be appropriate as well as necessary that he'd get lost for another four or five days.

However, even the best-laid plans are sometimes overtaken by events.

            What the author did not anticipate was the sudden onslaught by the Cult of Fanfic Readers For More Regular fanfiction.net Postings who had suddenly invaded his world, causing him to flee into his room where he was trapped until he finally gave in to starvation and depravation of privileges, promising to post more frequently in exchange for his continued existence. Satisfied with their latest achievement, the Cult moved on and work resumed.

            But this would leave Ryoga in a limbo, which in story time would amount to almost two weeks. It was an unfortunate consequence of having such a slacker as the author of one's fate.

            And so for now, it will suffice to say that Ryoga simply spent his time wandering.

            And wandering.

 I loved you Ranma! Even before you met Akane! And yet, you left me. Not once, but twice!

            Ranma had woken with a start. It hadn't quite been a nightmare, but Ukyo's words had hit him harder than he had expected. He had spent the entire weekend thinking about his friend, unable to grasp the depth of the hurt and bitterness that she felt at him.

            He looked towards the window and noted that it was still dark. The far-off droning that was probably the sound of people in prayer was no longer as noticeable before. He squinted at his alarm clock and noted that he still had an hour to go before it was once again time to wake up for school.

            Akane shifted slightly beside him and he pulled his fiancée a little closer to him. She still moved violently in her sleep, but Ranma had the timing so ingrained in his mind now that he could avoid getting stomped, prodded, shoved or jabbed. Right now, closer to dawn, she slept a little more peacefully and he wrapped his arms around her in a loving hug.

            Oh, Akane . . . what am I to do? He looked up at the ceiling, as if straining to gaze up into the heavens, searching for an answer. In fact, one floor above them, a quartet of worshippers from the Salvation through Enshrouding Darkness Movement, looked earnestly up at the cloudless sky, seeking answers as well.

            Ranma's mind whirled. He did not know what to do. What could he say to Ukyo that would make things right again? What could he do to brings things back to the way they were? He continued to stare at the wooden beams up ahead, staring to intently that they might have broken under the pressure. But the answers were not there. The cold timbers stared back at him, mute and unmoving.

            How much can you expect a girl to bear? One way or the other, you were my life! But I just bring myself to hate you anymore! And if I can't love you . . .

            Those words struck him like another blow. A blow that neither Ryoga nor any other opponents that he had ever met could deliver. This one went right through his defenses and shook him at the very core of his being. Ukyo Kounji. Ucchan. Hurt. And it was all his fault.

            There was no one else to blame this time. Akane stirred, becoming aware of his presence. She didn't open her eyes but snuggled closer to him. Ranma stared at the girl he loved and asked himself why. Why did I choose you, Akane? Why do I love you more? She couldn't hear his thoughts and she didn't answer so he contented himself with hugging her tight.

            Those painful thoughts were rapidly coming to a head. He could sense it. There had to be some form of resolution soon. He could stand to leave the matter at rest no longer. But what to tell her? What to say?

            Akane . . . I don't know what to do . . . He savored the warmth of her body against his. He closed his eyes again, trying to will away the negative thoughts. He would talk to Ukyo again. Maybe this time alone. They had to get to the root of the problem and resolve it once and for all.

            For all his faults, Ranma Saotome recognized when he had hurt a friend and when he had to do something about it. The only problem was figuring out what had to be done in order to make amends.

*******

She was somewhere far away. Her logic could not explain how she had come to that conclusion. She just knew it in the depths of her subconscious awareness. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she seemed to be floating in some void, surrounding by bright white light that seemed to have no noticeable source. Again, her logic failed to adequately explain how this was actually possible.

Am I . . . dead? There was a fleeting thought of Ranma and she felt the familiar stab of pain. Have I gone without getting the chance to say goodbye to him?

            It would be just as well if I were dead . . . Ukyo Kounji felt incredibly light and she savored the feeling of being free of the burden that had stifled her endlessly for months.

            But just as she thought that her emotional weight had magically been lifted off her, she heard a beep and another and another. What the . . .?  The beeping had taken on a more insistent tone and she felt the light receding from her, as if some invisible hand was pulling her away from it all.

            Her mind was wrenched violently and abruptly back to reality as her eyes snapped open. That irritating beeping was still sounding next to her left ear and she rolled her body in that direction and saw her brand new alarm clock flashing at her.

            It was one of those new designs with 'light and sound' guaranteed to wake the dead. She grabbed the offending device, feeling around for the button to kill its annoying caterwauling. Through her sleep-fogged eyes, she found the protrusion and pressed it down with no small amount of viciousness. She was of course careful enough to limit the amount of force since she didn't want to replace the clock yet again.

            The silence that met her was deafening and she felt her ears rings and she rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. She let a loud sigh escape her body as she felt the familiar weight sinking back down on her.

            Ranma . . .

            She forced herself to sit up even though she really didn't feel like it. Her mornings were mostly like this. It surprised her that she somehow managed to motivate herself to rise from her bed every morning. She spent a moment just sitting there, letting the head clear and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

            Will you just get over him, girl? Ukyo felt the coming of a slight headache. A sign that she had not slept enough the night before. But a glance at the alarm clock and at the glow of the rising sun outside her window told her that she didn't really have the means to address that problem. Tossing her blanket aside, she crawled out of bed, feeling the chill of the morning biting at her.

            Another day of school, she thought as he stood herself out and headed to the wardrobe to change. She had pretty much set her body on automatic and she ran through her usual morning rituals without much conscious thought.   Oh, the tub was still a shattered wreck and she's certainly have to get that fixed soon but somehow, she had inexplicably left it that way for the better part of a fortnight now. So it wasn't a tub anymore. Big deal, she thought. The water still ran and the drainage still worked so it could pass for a crude shower.

            Her walk to school had been painfully ordinary. Fraught with indescribable boredom. Ever since Ranma had declared his love for Akane, Ukyo had dreaded going to school. Just seeing them together killed a part of her every time.

            But that was her heart talking. Her head told her that she needed to go to school since now that she didn't have Ranma to depend on, she'd have to earn a living and even with the okonomiyaki business, it was always safer to have some paper qualifications somewhere in case she ever needed to find a job. Not that a high school education would really get her far but at least it was something.

            As she walked to school today, she found herself dragging her feet again. Something that she had not done since . . . she frowned and tried to remember when she had stopped dragging her feet to school.

            Yes . . . it was the night since Ryoga had ended up at her place, wasn't it? For a few days after that, her life had seemed a little more normal. It wasn't that she liked Ryoga or anything like that. But that Lost Boy had simply turned up when she had been feeling at her loneliest. That doofus had unknowingly filled a void, both physical and emotional when he had first tunnel his way into basement of her restaurant.

            She began to wonder about him now. It had been nearly two weeks since she had seen him off at the bus station. She wondered if he would be true to his word about paying for the repairs to her bathroom. One of the reasons that she had not arranged for repairs was because she was waiting for Ryoga to return and settle his end of the bargain. She didn't want him to reappear only to find that the job had already been done and paid for.

            But two weeks had seemed like an obscenely long time to wait and she as beginning to tire of seeing that pathetic excuse of a bathroom everyday. The more she looked at it, the more it reminded her of ground zero in some pictures she had seen of Hiroshima and Nagasaki back when the A-bombs had been dropped.

            Ah, what the hell . . . I guess I ought to call the contractor today. Get the damn place fixed up. Ryoga was probably lost again. A part of her did hope that he was lost trying to find his way back to Ucchan's, with the money to pay her for the repairs that needed to be done.

            A vision of Ryoga lost on a snow-capped mountain popped into her mind and she couldn't help smiling at that. He must have been watching the sunrise and telling himself he'd head that way but end up heading west instead. There had been times long ago when she had thought it impossible for such a directionless cretin to exist. But having joined him in a martial arts hot springs race so long ago had proven to her that his pathetic sense of direction was chronic enough to be declared a genetic defect.

            How they'd won that race, she'd never know. It must have been pure blind luck. After that, they'd ended up in Atami, which had been a famous tourist spot for its hot springs, though he had made some mentioned of a place called Jusenkyo. Of course, she'd not understood the connection until recently. Like Ranma, Ryoga had fallen into those cursed springs as well and while Ranchan turned into a girl on contact with cold water, Ryoga turned into P-chan.

            Ukyo felt sorry for him. Not only did he possess such an embarrassing cursed form, it was also the only way he'd ever been able to get close to his true love, Akane. Such sad lives that we both lead. At times, she did feel that she and Ryoga had more in common than they'd ever realize.

            She was coming into sight of school now. That familiar, ugly clock tower protruded from the main block, its scarred clock face proudly displaying the time to all students of the Furinkan High School and wait . . .

            She heard the familiar chiming sound. Classes starting already? Was she that late? According to the school clock, she was still a good half hour early. So why . . .? Then she saw the gates beginning to close and she felt her blood run cold. What in the hell . . .?

            "Bwahahaha!" She heard the familiar, maniacal laughter as that tanned man with the idiotic-looking sunglasses and the even more moronic Hawaiian outfit suddenly appeared perched atop the rapidly closing school gate. "New rulez, people! Da skool now starts a half hour earlier and you're all late! Dat means toilet-scrubbing for ya all!"

            He had a thick stack of flyers in his hands and he threw them out to the students who were still outside the school compound. Ukyo caught one of the flimsy sheets and was about to read it when she Ranma Saotome came bounding along the wall with Akane in tow.

            The pigtailed martial artist, not seeming to notice the principal in his way (or choosing deliberately to ignore him) ran through the evil Principal Kuno, striking a glancing blow.

            The older man struggled for balance even as he tried to close to gate and realized that he could do neither. Finally losing the battle with gravity, he lost his grip on the gate and felt unceremoniously to the ground, dragging the school gate wide open as he did.

            A cheer went up as the students of Furinkan charged through the open portal, eager to get into school before their Principal could recover. Ukyo heaved a short sigh of relief that they had all been saved once more from one of their psychotic principal's nefarious schemes to bring hardship to the school's student population.

            There was always the possibility that he would try something later in the day, but that was a rather nasty fall that he had. And he didn't look like he was going to get up anytime yet.

            Even as she joined the crush of students pouring into the school's courtyard, she saw Principal Kuno struggling to rise. "Curse you, Saotome!" The elder Kuno said, flashing his middle finger at the back of the fleeing martial artist and his fiancée. And then he was trampled flat by the scores of students that he had so maliciously planned to lock out of school.

            Whether the students were actually aware that their principal was being grinded into the asphalt underneath the rubber soles of their canvas shoes would have been debatable. But even if they had known, it was doubtful if anyone would have the compassion to avoid stepping on him.

            Ukyo spent a moment watching the stampede smearing their 'beloved' principal further into the dust, driving their heels into his joints and causing them to contort at awkward and impossible angles. For a split-second she saw his face gazing up pleadingly, those trademark sunglasses crushed and cracked. But then she was pushed on by the sheer inertia of the students pouring through the gate and soon the principal's cries of agony had been drowned out by the stream of students that flowed into Furinkan.

The wonders of modern communication had spread the word of the Principal's foiled in a matter of seconds and even though everyone had known that Ranma had cleared the way for them, no one was taking chances and they were all converging on that open gate with all possible speed just in case Principal Kuno somehow recovered and made another attempt to seal the gate.

            While Principal Kuno's scheme may have ultimately backfired, causing his body some really serious grief, he had also unexpectedly made a rare achievement. Seldom, if ever in the history of Furinkan High did so many students reach school before the first bell went. Again, the residents of Nerima saw this as a sign that things had been changing for the better and many adults, awed at the near-religious fervor with which their children attended school that day would also be present at the first meeting of the Blessed Circuit of Parents for Enlightenment Through A Furinkan Education.

            Of course it was safe to assume that Principal Kuno was not entirely thrilled at the thought of his school becoming the focal point of a new faith. But before the end of the day, his broken body had to be MEDEVACed to the nearest hospital by way of helicopter. For almost a week, the doctors would argue over which of his many injuries to treat first. It would take another week of haggling as the senior physicians at the hospital realized that they were dealing with a very rare case of multiple injuries and Principal Kuno would spend another four weeks, sedated most of the time as he was brought to various medical institutions around the country, serving as a hot topic for debate in trauma treatment and also being used as a live specimen patient at the medical faculties of a few universities as well.

            Despite what passed for progress in the world at large, some things still never changed.

            She had avoided him again at school. Just as she had most of the time. It wasn't until he had actually sat down to observe her during class time that he realized just how lonely she really was. During recess, she would slip always slip away and he had never bothered to find out where she'd go to . . . till now.

            It had taken most of the recess time to track her down discreetly. He had informed Akane of his intentions of course and she had helped as well. They had finally found her on the roof of the building, staring up at the sky and sighing to herself.

            It was at exactly at that moment that Ranma's nerve had failed him. The words had been stuck in his throat and just when Akane had goaded him into action, Ukyo had turned around and this time, both of them had been stuck, unable to say anything more than 'hi'.

            Before any one could say anything else, the bell had gone and the trio wordlessly joined the stream of students trudging back to class to resume lessons. It had galled Ranma that this was the first time in months that they had a full recess since Principal Kuno had a habit of shortening the rest period whenever he felt like it. (Readers will of course note that it was no lesser man than Ranma who had been responsible for incapacitating the principal that day.

            The rest of the day had crawled by. Without the madcap interruptions of their clinically insane headmaster, the teachers had been left to pursue their own devices. In the absence of the guiding spirit of their schoolmaster, the teachers had tried their utmost to teach real lessons. But far too many of them had been under the influence of Principal Kuno for far too long and their performance had been characteristically lackluster.

            Even with school ending an hour earlier than normal due to a total lack of interest by all parties followed shortly by a total breakdown in discipline. Ukyo Kounji had made good use of the widespread confusion to slip away into the faceless mass of students pressing out the gate in the same manner they had entered in the morning.

            Ranma had seen her go and had tried to catch up, but it had been no use. Ukyo had been too fast and he had been slowed down by having to wait for Akane. But if they couldn't find her in school, there was always one other place to go . . .

            "Good afternoon and welcome to Ucch . . ."Ukyo stopped dead at the sight of that familiar, pigtailed youth stepping into her restaurant. He was alone.

            "Hello, Ucchan."

            "Ranma." She acknowledged him with the briefest of nods and returned to cleaning her grill. There were a few other customers in her restaurant. Peak hour had been over for quite awhile.

            "Hey, aren't you going to serve me? Ranma flashed her one of his famous cocky grins as he sat himself down at the grill.

            "I didn't hear you order."

            She saw the slight shock registering on his face and she grit her teeth, hardening her heart. She had to get him out of her life. If he couldn't be her fiancé, then he shouldn't be in her life at all.

            "Well, I thought you'd always cook me my usual."

            "And what would that be? I don't remember the preferences of all my customers." She said coldly. "Only the regulars."

            This time, she knew her words had really struck home and she saw him actually recoiling as if he had been struck. There was a hurt look on his face too though she tried her best not to notice it.

            "What's wrong, Ucchan? What have I done to deserve this?" Ranma seemed to be genuinely perplexed.

            "What have you done?" Ukyo felt herself exploding now, losing her slight grip on her bottle-up anger. "What have I done to deserve this?"

            "Huh?"

            "Damn it, Ranma! I loved you! Couldn't you see that? Didn't you know that?" A small voice inside her head told her that she ought to maintain her calm, but she found herself incapable of stopping herself from shouting.

            "Please, Ucchan . . ."

            "Oh, don't you 'Please, Ucchan' me, mister!" Ukyo cut him off with a vicious gesture. "I don't want to hear it!"

            "Come on, Ucchan. Listen to me . . ." He said as he hopped over the grill and he knelt next to her.

            "Listen to you?" She felt herself going hysterical now. "Why should I when you've never listened to me?" Control, Ukyo . . . control . . . She tried to fight the anger and hate but there seemed to be no way to stop it.

            A very small part of her began to worry now. Will we ever be able to speak to each other again after this? She felt her fists bunching up. This was the man whom she had loved so selflessly. And he was the very same man who had told her she was cute and then cast her aside for that . . . that tomboy. Is this the end of our friendship? Is this how you really want to end it?

            Damn right it is.

            But you don't have the guts to end it now.

            Oh, yeah? All he needs is to give me one more excuse . . .

            "Hey, this isn't fair . . ." Ranma protested.

            "Since when did you ever care about fair?" Ukyo snapped and she felt the first tear beginning to trickled out the edge of her eye. "Do you think it's fair? The way you've treated me after all this time?"

            "Hey, Ukyo. I'm sorry, but . . ."

            "Sorry? But what? But I'm not cute enough for you? But you were just playing around with my feelings? What?" The tears were streaming down uncontrollably down her cheeks now. Her voice was breaking now. "I hate you, Ranma Saotome. I wish I'd never met you!"

            "Ukyo . . ." Ranma reached out to her.

            "No! Just leave me alone and go away!" She finally let go and screamed at him with all the anger, frustration and hate that had been stored up inside her. "Get out of my restaurant now!"

            There was a loud crash and both of them thought they actually felt the earth move. Ukyo felt a sudden blast of heat and the temperature in the restaurant rose abruptly. For a split-second, she thought the grill had caught fire since her customers were fleeing in terror.

            She saw that her grill had been reduced to a twisted wreck, the folds and cracks all emanating for a single point where a fist had been driven into it. What the hell . . .?

            Looking through tear-blurred eyes, she traced the fist to its owner and was stunned to find out who it was. Standing before her with his fist rammed into her precious grill was a familiar boy with a bulging backpack. His clothes were torn in some places, his unruly hair held in place only by a dirty, yellow bandana. Apart from the deplorable state of his clothing, multiple bruises and lacerations on his body and the fact that his eyes seemed to be emitting a strange greenish-yellow glow, he looked none the worse for wear.

            "Ryoga?" Ukyo gasped through her sobs.

            "Uh, Ryoga . . ." Ranma winced as the grilled continued to sizzle around the pig-boy's wrist. "That's hot, you know?" The glow had spread so that Ryoga was now silhouetted in light.

            "A girl in tears . . ." Ryoga said in a low, dangerous voice. "She told you to get out . . ."

            "Uh, Ryoga? Ehehehe . . . it's not what you're thinking . . ." Ranma said nervously, finally beginning to realize what was going on.

            "YOU BASTARD!" Ryoga lunged with his umbrella, Ranma narrowly avoiding the blow. "NOW YOU DIE!"

            "Uh . . . guys?" Ukyo blinked in surprised as Ryoga pulled his other hand out of the splintered grill. He was bringing his umbrella around again for another strike even as he roared.

            Observers would say that they felt a rush of heat that day a split-second before downtown Nerima was engulfed in a great sphere of brilliant light.

            And meanwhile, high in orbit over Earth, the KEYHOLE satellite continued to snap pictures, relaying the latest in a set of disturbing images to the CIA folks at Langley.

Endnotes: Ok. I've learnt my lesson. I shan't promise when the next episode will be. But right now, I can tell you that it's tentatively titled: The Breaking Point Part II – The Tides of War.

Well, hopefully I'd be posting again soon. This is really one of those episodes where things really go to shit (pardon the expression). We all know how cocky and infuriating Ranma can get and Ryoga's already worked up so you can expect a fair amount of carnage in the next episode. Don't worry, no one dies. J

The year-end is coming soon. I'd be moving around the region. Some of it being official military business and the rest of it being personal recreation etc. Then there's the usual year-end work to settle plus the fact that I'm hoping to finish the first book of my Arcadian Conflicts series on fictionpress.com. It's a bleak picture, ain't it. But I do enjoy writing this as a distraction so you can be assured that it will be continued. It's just the pace . . .

Till next time then!